Jada
I adjust the collar of Jack’s black wool blazer in the elevator on the way up to the office the following Friday. “Suit porn take two!” I tease.
He’s in Prada today; underneath the jacket, he wears a gray sweater vest over a pinstripe cotton shirt and wool trousers.
He yanks me to him and kisses me deep. “Did you dress me in this just to taunt Renata?” he mumbles into my mouth before moving onto my neck.
“Thirty-percent to taunt Renata, thirty-percent for our meeting and forty-percent for me,” I say.
“I want a hundred,” he whispers. “I need a hundred percent of you right now, in the supply closet.”
I push him away, laughing. “First of all, that doesn’t make sense, and second, we almost ruined this suit once this morning. This is the big sale, Jack. If we make this, we’re home free. They can’t close us next week.” I fix his tie. “We got this.”
The door opens. He grabs my hand. We always have to be touching lately. I’ve never experienced this feeling of being so happy with somebody that I want to be touching him all the time. Some nights we stay up way too late talking. There’s always something more to say, a new topic we haven’t covered.
Or else sex.
Or else talking about how great the sex was after the sex. Or just how lucky we are to have found each other.
In short, we’re disgustingly into each other.
He actually asked me the other day if things were going too well. Like if things were suspiciously too good. “Don’t you worry?” he asked.
He was serious. It’s the messed-up way he was brought up. Happiness as part of a transaction. Good things always came with a cost for Jack.
I’d climbed into his lap—a place I spend an inordinate amount of time these days. “I believe in us,” I’d said. “We’re in it together, no matter what.”
He’d tucked my hair back behind my ear like he does, looking intense. He was so aloof when I first met him. Nothing mattered to him. Nothing touched him. I didn’t realize there were worlds inside him.
They say a cynic is a wounded idealist. I’ve come to think that maybe a villain is just a wounded saint.
“Fuck. You,” Renata says when she catches sight of Jack. “Fuck the fuck out of both of you. That’s what I have to say.”
Jack chuckles and I make a pouty face. Renata sticks out her tongue at us and we all get to work. Fridays tend to be lighter, even with the chronic understaffing we’re facing. Our appointment at Nobella is at four. We haven’t figured out an excuse to tell Bert yet. Lacey thinks he’ll be out of the office by then, and people can pretend we stayed and punch us out in absentia.
Bert leaves even earlier than we hoped. Renata sees him pull out of his usual space out front. “Bert just left,” she says. It’s two in the afternoon, and she’s by the window that overlooks the VIP parking area. “Bye, asshole,” she says.
The whole office relaxes. Renata and Dave push Keith to the window.
“Keith needs to be soaking up sunshine for two now,” Dave says.
“Don’t forget to move him back at the end of the day,” I say. “We won’t be here to help you remember.”
“We won’t forget,” Renata says.
Mackenzie wanders over. “We are so nailing this.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “I talked to my friend at Hilfiger and she said Nobella’s nailing down their spring line right now. We got in just under the wire. If they seem hesitant, I might offer a discount.”
“Don’t do it,” Jack says, coming over. “They’re not buying on price.”
“Right,” she says. “I keep reverting back to the discount shit.”
“If they don’t love the bag, they’re assholes who don’t deserve the bag,” he reminds us. “They’re lucky we’re even considering them.”
“Thank god you’re coming,” Mackenzie says. “You’re our secret sauce.”
“I didn’t even do anything at the last meeting,” he says. “I’m just telling how it is.”
“You’re our secret sauce,” Mackenzie insists. “These buyers are like horses. They sense confidence. By sitting there being how you are, you help us get in the right mindset. The mindset of: This bag is too good for you!”
Everybody’s excited. We are going to have a whale of a celebration once we save the company. One more week to go.
As far as Renata and Dave and the rest of my co-workers know, we’re only saving the company to fight another day, or the next accounting period, as it were.
Jack and I know the truth—if we can pull this off, he’ll be able to void the contract with Bloxburn and kick them—and Bert—to the curb.
We’re debating taking a cab over and when to leave.
That’s when Bert walks in. He strolls around, wearing an expression of smug suspicion.
A dead hush falls over the place. People creep back to their assigned places.
Where did he come from? He was supposed to be gone! Did he move his car to fool us? Did he sense we’re hiding something? We’re hiding a lot of somethings.
Bert’s walking up the row of cubicles, away from the project area. “Where’s Lacey?” he asks.
Is that why he’s here? Did he figure out that we’re protecting Lacey? Letting her nap or even possibly leave early sometimes?
He turns and stands in the front of the room. “I asked a question. Where the hell is Lacey?” He’s scanning all of our faces.
Nobody speaks.
“A funny thing about people who are keeping secrets,” he continues. “They always give themselves away. For example, I’ve noticed a few of you glancing over at the small meeting room. What might I find in there?”
I grimace as he strolls over to the small meeting room. Out the corner of my eye, I see Jack standing up. I look over and catch his eye. I shake my head. This is no time to be a hothead.
Bert flings open the door to the small meeting room. “Rise and shine!” he barks.
A few minutes later, a weeping Lacey is cleaning out her desk. “Sleeping on the job. Not permitted,” he crows. “Does anybody else want to help me reduce payroll expenses?” He’s walking around again.
My heart breaks for Lacey. I can’t believe he fired her. I try to catch her eye, to somehow assure her she’s not alone.
Bert slows, and then he turns toward the window. That’s when he sees Keith.
I hear Renata inhale sharply.
Bert takes his time walking over to where Keith basks in his little sunbeam, listing slightly in his sad clay pot.
We all rise from our cubicles, watching.
“Did I or did I not instruct you to put this thing in the break room?” Bert turns around, addressing us all. “My directive was clear, was it not? There is not to be anything obstructing this window.” He turns back around. “So why is this thing here?”
My heart beats like a bongo. Keith just got that little bud. Is Bert gonna banish him to an even worse place than the breakroom? Like a janitorial closet where he’ll never see the sun?
He’s still too fragile for us to pick up and move across the city in the cold, blustery weather. Jack’s glowering at Bert.
Slowly, Bert walks up to Keith. He stands right in front of him. “Why’s this piece of shit even in the office?”
I stiffen. Why is Bert so down on Keith? It’s not like Keith takes up that much room.
And then, all in a blur of speed, Bert swings his leg and gives Keith a ruthlessly hard kick.
The blow lands on Keith’s lower third with a sickening thwick. Keith practically explodes. I gasp. Bits of cactus fly across the room, landing on the carpet.
Keith, or what’s left of him, is just a little stub sticking out of a pot.
I clap my hand over my mouth.
“His bud!” Shondrella squeaks.
Bert turns, smirking. “That was incredibly satisfying, I have to say.” His smirk quickly turns to alarm, however, when he sees Jack beelining toward him.
“Jack, no!” I run over and get between them and set my hands on Jack’s chest. “No.”
Jack’s face is pure fury. “Out of my way.”
“Forget it!” I say. “Ignore him. Don’t do this.”
“He fucking kicks him?” Jack growls.
“What’s the problem, prettyboy?” Bert says. “You sad about your widdle pwant?”
Jack surges at Bert, but I hold him back with the help of Dave. “Don’t wreck this,” I say.
Bert’s smiling. He’s doing it on purpose—that much is clear.
“You’ll ruin everything, Jack,” I say. “It’s the wrong move.”
“It’s the only move I’ve got,” Jack says.
“What about us? We need you, Jack!” I say. “We’re a family!”
Bert’s laughing. “Did somebody say something about a bud?” He crunches a section under his boot. “Oops.”
There’s no more holding Jack. He surges at Bert. His fist flashes powerfully, almost too fast to see.
There’s a weird, suspended moment when Bert’s face shows nothing but surprise. For that split second, I can almost trick myself into thinking that everything’s just fine.
Then, in the next moment, Bert stumbles back and falls to the ground, almost in slo-mo.
“Come on, you bully prick, get up!” Jack says. “You beat up on a poor, defenseless cactus, but you won’t fight me? Come on. I’ll give you two free ones!”
“Jack, no!” I scream. “Stop it!”
Suddenly, everything goes into fast-forward. Bert’s on his feet, going at Jack, throwing punches, one after another. Jack bobs and weaves. Bert’s fist never connects.
Jack dives in and tackles him low at the hips. In a flash, Bert’s on his back, and Jack is on his chest, one knee on either side, drawing back his fist, about to pound Bert’s face.
Dave rushes in and grabs Jack’s arm.
“Stop it, Jack!” I plead, even though I can see he’s gone fully feral. “Please! You’re ruining everything!”
“Good,” Jack growls, lost in fury, struggling to get loose from Dave and get back to Bert.
I rush in and help Dave. Renata helps, too. Somehow, we get him off Bert.
Bert’s face is bloody and angry. He has his phone out. “Nobody is leaving! I’m calling the police, and you’re all witnesses.”
“What have you done?” I breathe.
Jack’s nostrils flare. “What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” It’s like a switch flipped.
“This isn’t you!” Even as I say it, I can see that there’s something different about Jack. Something cold and calm. Like he’s gotten a dose of some drug. He’s expressionless, his eyes blank, his body tense and angry. In an instant I don’t recognize the man I’ve grown so close to.
“That was very me,” he says.
Security rushes up. Bert instructs them to subdue Jack. They’re clearly confused, because Jack is just standing there, acting all weary and unperturbed. And blank. Totally blank.
He offers to sit in a chair by the door, and he plays on his phone, unruffled. I keep trying to make eye contact with him, but it’s as if he’s beyond reach.
Lacey is sobbing, cleaning up her stuff with Varsha’s help.
Mackenzie comes up to me. “We have to slip out of here or we’ll miss Nobella. No way will they let us reschedule.”
“Go with Shondrella,” I whisper. Shondrella is already putting on her coat.
Renata comes and grabs my arm.
“Nobody goes anywhere until this is finished,” Bert barks.
“Damn,” she whispers.
