Page 82 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
The second his back was turned, I put my head between my knees and concentrated on breathing. There. That was better. I sat up again, muttered, “Whoops,” and went back down again. It had to be at least ninety-five out here, and so humid it was like sitting in the middle of a gigantic, soaking-wet washcloth. A hot one.
When Hemi came back with not one but three water bottles, I was sitting up, attempting to look as cool and composed as a woman could whose body temperature would have been right at home in the Saharan Desert.
“Better?” he asked.
“Sure.” I eyed his overabundance of hydration. “Thank you. But…were you thinking I’d stick one under each arm to cool me down, or something?”
He smiled, the barest touch at the corners of his mouth. “Reckon youarefeeling better.”
I took the bottle of water he handed me, and then couldn’t get the top open, because my stupid hands were shaking. He took it from me without a word, opened the top, handed it back, and pulled out his phone.
“Yeh,” he told somebody. Charles, obviously, because the next words out of his mouth were directions. “Twenty minutes,” he said once he’d hung up.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Got dehydrated, that’s all, I guess. Much better now. And isn’t it Charles’s day off? Does the poor man evergeta day off?”
“He doesn’t want a day off. Lives with his sister, doesn’t he. And he likes his job.”
“How do you know? Secret sign language? Mental telepathy?”
“Because I asked him after you two moved in, when I gave him his raise. I asked, was he satisfied. He said yes.”
“Nice to be you,” I muttered. “Nice clear communication.”
“I think so. And I’m waiting,” he pointed out, “for you to communicate with me now, instead of practicing your sarcasm skills.”
Right.Get going.I took another drink of wonderfully cold water, then said cautiously, “I’ve…heard that, um, that people think I got Martine fired.”
Hemi’s entire body stilled. “Well, you did. Or rather, you didn’t. You got hernotfired.”
“Yes, but they don’t know that, and how can I tell them? They say…” I took a breath and continued. “That I complained to you that she was…mean to me, because she criticized my work. And because my work was bad,” I finished in a rush. “Slow and sloppy.”
I was burning from more than the heat now. The humiliation was right there. It had never left; all I’d been able to do was shove it aside. What I’d heard in the ladies’ room had cut to the bone, because I hadn’t known if it was true.
“Of course you weren’t slow and sloppy,” Hemi said. “We both know why she said that.”
“HowdoI know for sure, though? I’ve never had an office job before. Vincent didn’t exactly praise me to the skies either, for that matter. Nathan said I was fast, but how much can I rely on that? I can’t. Maybe Iamslow and…and sloppy. I can’t get better if I’m not getting honest feedback.”
It hurt so much to say it, especially to Hemi, especially tomyself,but I had to say it. It was the truth.
“Fine,” he said. “I told you, you don’t have to work. I’m quite happy to have you stay home.”
“And do what? Have…blow waves? Shop? Hemi, I need to see if I can do ajob.I need to see if I’m any good, and if I’m not, I need to find out how togetgood. And the only way I can do that is to find someplace where nobody’s going to shield me because I’m your girlfriend, or hate me and backstab me because I’m your girlfriend, either.”
All right, I was getting agitated. Sue me.
“First,” he said, “you’re my fiancée, not my girlfriend. In six weeks, the minute we can do it, you’ll be my wife.”
“Right. And that would make it better how?”
“Second,” he said, ignoring that, “who’s hating you? Who’s backstabbing you?”
Oh, man. I’d gone there. “Figuratively,” I said.
He stared at me. “No. Not figuratively. Who?”
“Well, let’s see,” I said. “Who was upset yesterday, when I talked at that meeting? Oh, yeah.Everybody.Take your pick. I shouldn’t have talked. I had no place talking. It wasn’t my job. You could have told me about the meeting privately if you’d wanted to, have shared your…your vision, and your concerns about it, and I could have given you my opinion or just asked questions, for what that was worth to you. If you ever wanted to do that, I’d love to hear it. But I can’t do it atwork.It’s not going to fly. It would be different if I had some skills, but I don’t. That’s the hard truth. I need to get some. I need tobesomebody. I need todosomething. I need to have something to offer.”
“You are somebody,” he said. “You’remysomebody.”
