Page 17 of Silver Fox
It’s not the exit I’m looking for though. I pass a home theatre with the comfiest movie theatre seats I’ve ever seen. But then I recognize the hallway next to it—and the foyer from last night comes into view. My heart jumps when I see there’s a note next to the bouquet of white-and-pink peonies, and I snatch it up to read.
On your way out, could you drop the old bunch of flowers off in the garbage disposal downstairs?
Thanks
S
I read it twice over, my expression blank. My mouth falls open. Is he freaking serious? Is that all I get after last night? The bubble of happiness in my chest well and truly pops, deflating far past where it had been before I met him. What about everything he said to Brett on the phone?
The fuck did you just say about my girl, asshole?
My girl.
Clearly that was the drink talking, then.
I put the note back where I found it, spying the fountain pen next to it. Taking off the fancy leather cap, I touch the golden nib to the paper and write a reply.
Take your own goddamn garbage out
Thanks for a fun night… sir
Slipping my heels on, I wince at the way they irritate my blisters from last night, but they’re not nearly as irritating as the note Silas left for me. Well fuck him, and fuck his peonies.
I may not have my panties, but I have my dignity, dammit.
I stab at the button for the elevator and, with a narrowed look at Silas’s mind-blowing apartment, descend back down to the first floor, ignoring the almighty sinking feeling in my chest.
I feel… adrift when I eventually get into work, ready for my meeting with Kenneth. My work bestie Deanna and I usually text throughout the day, and a one night stand with a silver fox would certainly be dissected and discussed a thousand times over. But she’s off on her honeymoon, and I’m not going to shoehorn my crap into her life right now.
God I wish I was one of those people that can’t see mental images in their mind. Because the sight of Sara and Brett together will be burned into my brain until the day I die.
We’re isolated from the main office block down here in logistics. In contrast to the towering office next to us and the warehouses to the rear, the logistics office isn’t large, containing only a few cubicles. Most of the logistics staff are working remotely today, and the only sign of the employees that usually inhabit the cubicles is the personal effects they’ve left behind. Gareth, for instance, has a small fish tank on his desk, and a lone betta swims amongst the plants, flaring his fins at anyone who looks too closely and patiently waiting for the auto-feeder to spit out a few pellets every day. Tom has a photo of his wife and kids, as well as some drawings his kids have done for him. There’s even a dog bed under Vivian’s desk, where her service dog Beau chills during the day. My desk, however, is located next to Inez.
“Hey Inez,” I say, giving her a smile as I take my seat, depositing my laptop bag on the hard gray carpet.
Inez acknowledges me with a look over her rounded flower-patterned glasses. There’s about three decades between us, and she’s not what anyone would callfriendly. “Morning.”
I can’t help but try again. “How was your Valentine’s night?”
She looks at the calendar on the wall next to her. It’s gardening-themed, and Inez’s crowning achievement was that her garden was chosen as the picture for October. This month’s picture is a riot of pink peonies, and they immediately remind me of the bouquet in Silas’s apartment. “I didn’t even realize it was Valentine’s,” Inez observes, leaving my question unanswered and going straight back to her computer, slowly pecking at the keyboard in front of her.
Fine. I get the hint. Inez isnota morning person and I need to respect that.
With the exception of Deanna, all of the staff here are a good decade or so older than me. We’re friendly, but we’re notclose. Do they know about my disciplinary hearing? I don’t even know what it is I’m supposed to have done, but goddamn it I am not going into that meeting unprepared.
Silently, I take out my work laptop and fire it up. My meeting isn’t for another half hour, so I’ve got some time to go through my spreadsheet with a fine-tooth comb. A few new emails have come in overnight from other departments, and I go through Kenneth’s work calendar to ensure everything is correct across the different time zones. As much as I hate the bastard.
As I work, I realize that other than Deanna, there’s no one I can really talk to. And I don’t even want totalk. I want to vent. Ineedto vent. I have some trauma to dump. My sister fucked my goddamn long-term boyfriend, who had apparently been looking at engagement rings last week.
When I have a spare second, I log into my personal email account, shooting off an email to my therapist. I’ve never had any significant therapy other than when I lost my mom, but I have a feeling Sara sleeping with Brett is going to fuel more than a single session.
Our dad had left before I turned a year old. With mom gone, Sara was the only family I had left.
And then there was the issue of Silas.
I couldn’t get him out of my head. The way he snatched my phone from me and tore Brett a new one. The way he called memy girl. The way he made me beg for him to touch me. The way he moved inside me. The soft, gentle talk in between the filthier moments. God, every aspect of our night together runs through my head.
I didn’t want it to just be a one night stand. I wanted more.
