Quickly, Pauline and I clear my office space, sobbing the entire time. Pauline—not me.
I can’t believe I fucking quit my job. But working with the prick who sexually harassed me was not an option. I may not have stood up for myself back in med school, but I’ll be damned if I stay in a toxic work environment now. My eyes remain dry because I refuse to show any more emotion in the vicinity of those two despicable men. I’ll cry at home. Preferably over a giant martini. With extra olives.
3
Claire
ASexand the Cityrerun is on, the volume turned down, when Joey lets herself in.
“You better catch up,” I call from the kitchen. My first martini is nearly empty where it sits next to a pile of tissues.
She scrunches her nose. “There better not be olives in mine. I hate olives.”
“Gasp!” I chuckle. “That’s because you didn’t grow up in the country club culture. Those people serve gold-plated baby bottles with a skewer of olives, darling.”
She giggles, but her face falls as she scurries around the kitchen island to hug me.
She understood the assignment and showed up in sweats. Her hair is pulled into a topknot like mine too. Her hair color is similar to mine, and though my eyes are a lighter shade of brown than hers, we’re often mistaken for sisters. I always wanted someone I could share clothes with, and since she and Cam basically live out of suitcases, she leaves most of her wardrobe in my closet—with the understanding that I can wear any of it anytime I want. Too bad I don’t fill out her shirts as well as she does. But Isuppose someone has to be the president of the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee.
“Is this vodka or gin?” she asks as she picks up the martini—sans olives—I prepared for her.
“Gin.”
“Oh shit,” she gasps. “Good thing I’m not wearing a bra. Otherwise I’d be taking it off in four sips.”
Clinking my glass against hers, I say, “Here’s to day-drinking in your twenties.”
“Here’s to shoving it up your boss’s ass. And not the fun, pegging kind.” She winks.
Before long, room service brings up a charcuterie board. The two of us pick at it while we lounge on the sectional with our martinis.
“What’s Cam up to?” I ask.
“When I left, he was pouting because I wouldn’t let him crash our boozy girls’ day. But I think he’s going over to Ezra’s after he gets off work. Probably to keep him company while Millie’s away.” Eyes closed, she takes a slow sip of her drink. “Speaking of work…” She peers at me from beneath her long lashes. “Are we just drinking the day away?” With her glass held up, she grins. “Because if we are, that’s totally cool. Or did you want to talk about it and make a plan?”
She knows me well. I love a plan. At least I think I do. My whole life has been one big plan. Prep school, med school, become a doctor. Eventually get married and have kids. The Great American Dream. Whatever the fuck that means these days.
“I’m not sure.” I take a generous swig from my glass, eyeing her over top of the rim.
“For what it’s worth, I understand why you didn’t tell anyone.”
“Right?” I slap the cushion next to me. “Thank you. It’s notthat I didn’t want to take it seriously. I just didn’t have the brain beans to deal with it at the time. The idea of all that attention stressed me out, and med school was already almost more stress than I could handle. I figured it would be a bigger pain to deal with it than it would be to simply drop it. It felt easier to keep my head down, avoid Leo, and push through until the end of the semester.”
She nods. “What makes it even worse is that there are a million women out there with the same story and thought process as you.”
“Totally.” That truth is like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. With a sigh, I drain the rest of my martini. Then I rise to make a new one. Joey throws back the rest of hers before passing me her glass.
The common areas of the penthouse are open to one another, so we continue chatting while I’m in the kitchen.
“So… a plan?” she reminds me.
“For one, I need a new job,” I tell her. “My parents will freak when they find out I quit.”
“Are you going to tell them what happened?”
I huff. “I’m surprised Cam hasn’t already.”
“Trust me, he wanted to,” she says. “But I convinced him that it’s your call.”
