“Lady, for the next few hours, I own you,” she shot back. “So dry your tears and get to work.”
The office was quiet when Michelle and I finally finished. She rushed out of the door to a date she was already late for, and I packed up my bag to leave. But as I walked towards the exit, I saw the light on by Vivian’s desk and heard voices. As much as engaging in conversation with Vivian was like a really specific form of torture, I figured I could at least give her my travel dates now while it was on my mind. And then back to my lonely little flat to binge on the trashiest box set I could stomach.
Vivian wasn’t at her desk. But her bag was, her Chloé blazer draped elegantly across the back of the chair. I heard a noise from RJ’s office, a thud and what sounded like her voice. The door was a little ajar, so I poked my head around.
At my first, my brain didn’t comprehend what I was seeing; the room was dim, lit only by the awards shelf’s dedicated strip lighting. There seemed to be some kind of dark mass on RJ’sdesk, a long, pale limb and then … sloppy kissing sounds, a flash of wheat-blond hair, a deep chuckle.Oh God.I withdrew my head so quickly I stumbled. That was Vivian andRalf. And although I hadn’t seen anything explicit – thanks, baby Jesus, for that – I’d seen enough. I decided I’d better leave them to … whatever that was.
I turned to make my way out of the office but was in such a hurry I knocked my hip against Vivian’s desk. Her ostentatious Stanley cup wobbled, I dived to catch it, only to send her keyboard skittering off the desk.
“What was that?” Vivian breathlessly demanded.
“Hang on.” Ralf’s belt buckle jingled, and I swallowed the wave of nausea that accompanied the mental image. I was very keen to avoid any awkward conversation about this entirely unhinged coupling, so I darted into Sadie’s office, which was next to RJ’s, and tucked myself in a corner where I could peek through the gap in the blinds. Ralf emerged into the hallway, his hair uncharacteristically mussed.
“You see anything?” Vivian hissed, scurrying to his side. Apart from her silk blouse being buttoned incorrectly, she looked as chic as ever.
“No, just your keyboard.” He pointed to where it lay on the floor.
“Weird.” Vivian stalked over to retrieve it, scanning the office predatorily.
“Hello?” Ralf called nervously. “Anyone here?”
Vivian tutted. “Sure, Ralf, like an axe murderer is really going to answer you back.”
“What would an axe murderer be doing in a Chelsea office?” he asked defensively.
“Axe murderer, hobo, vape-smoker …” Vivian shuddered. “You never know who might be lurking.” I shrank back against the wall of Sadie’s office.
“Maybe we should get out of here,” Ralf suggested.
“And go where?” Vivian said. “Baldemar’s hosting his geriatric investor’s club at our place.”
“We could go to mine?” Ralf looked down at her with hope shining in his eyes, the first wholly honest emotion I’d seen him display.
“Ralf.” She tutted at him. “You know I don’tdoBrooklyn.”
“Hello, it’s Park Slope,” he said.
“Whatever. You know I can’t. There’s a reason we … do things the way we do,” she said with a sniff. “The discretion, the—”
“Sneaking around, the two-ring-booty-summoning,” he interrupted. I stifled a giggle as I remembered hearing his phone ring twice and then stop. That had been Vivian, booty-calling?
“Booty? Ralf, that’s crass,” she said.
“Well, what would you call it?”
Her eyes turned murderous. “Survival. Like everything I have to do right now.”
“Relax.” He gripped her shoulders. “We’re almost there—”
“Do you really think we can make this work?” she interrupted. “It’s a risk.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Ralf said. “You know me – I see an opportunity, I take it.”
“Is that what I am to you?” Vivian said. “An opportunity?”
“Baby, you’re so much more,” he told her. He then gestured at her blouse. “You should fix that before you go.”
“Ralf?” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft as he walked away.
