first word. I’m the liar in this scenario, and the only thing worse than a liar is a self-righteous liar.
He must see that I’m offended, because he comes up beside me and squeezes my arm. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just saying, you’ve got a good gig.”
My heart speeds. Now is the time. I take a deep breath. “But I don’t have a good gig, Andrew. I’ve been pretending—”
“Would you stop with the second-guessing already? I get it. You feel like an imposter. We all do, sometimes. But you’ve got to step up, babe, show that you’re up to the task. Stop doubting yourself. You’re coming into your own now, becoming the woman your mother—and I—always knew you could be.”
Oh, Jesus! I can’t tell him the truth now. “Um, well, I don’t know about that.”
“There’s not a doubt in my mind.” He pulls a cedar hanger from the closet and slides his suit coat over it. Then he removes his pants, finds their crease, and clips them to the hanger, bottom-side up. I study his smooth, tan skin and rippled abs. Along with his clothing and his physique, Andrew expects perfection in everything—including his girlfriend. A pit forms in my stomach.
“I’ve been thinking more and more about Bohlinger Cosmetics. I’d like you to consider bringing me aboard.”
I gasp. “I … I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
He shoots me a look. “Really? What’s changed? At one time you were all for it.”
Three years ago I went to my mother, asking her to create a position for Andrew. But she refused. “Brett, darling, I simply won’t consider it unless the two of you are married. And even then, you’d have a hard time convincing me to hire Andrew.”
“Why? He’s brilliant. Andrew works harder than anyone I know.”
“Andrew would be an asset to many corporations, no doubt. But I’m not sure he’s a good fit for BC.” She locked eyes with me then, the way she always did when she had something difficult to say. “My sense is that Andrew is a bit more aggressive than is necessary for a business such as ours.”
I swallow hard and force myself to look at Andrew. “But Mother was against it, remember? Besides, you’ve said many times what a good decision that was. You admitted you’d never be happy at a cosmetics company.”
He moves to the bed and leans over me, positioning one bare arm on either side of me. “But that was before my girlfriend was president of the company.”
“Which confirms the fact that you shouldn’t work there.”
He lowers his body, planting kisses on my forehead, my nose, my lips. “Imagine the fringe benefits,” he whispers, his voice husky. “We create an adjoining office next to your corner suite. I’m your company’s attorney as well as your private sex slave.”
I giggle. “You’re already my sex slave.”
Nuzzling my neck, he lifts my nightshirt. “There’s nothing sexier than a powerful woman. Come here, Madame President.”
But if you knew I was a powerless substitute teacher, would you still find me sexy? I grope for the lamp switch, grateful when the room goes black, and lie still as he makes his way down my body.
My good angel reminds me that I need to tell him the truth, and soon. My bad angel tells her to mind her own business, and wraps her legs around his naked back.
I arrive at Douglas Keyes Elementary clad in black slacks and a black sweater, wearing my bright orange shoes in honor of Halloween season. Children love teachers who dress in holiday themes, though I refuse to wear the requisite appliqué pumpkin sweatshirts until I’m at least fifty.
Principal Bailey, an attractive African American woman, leads me down a terrazzo hallway toward Mrs. Porter’s classroom.
“Woodlawn is home to several housing projects and a variety of street gangs. Not the easiest group to teach, but we’re up for the challenge. I like to think Douglas Keyes Elementary serves as a safe haven for our
He must see that I’m offended, because he comes up beside me and squeezes my arm. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just saying, you’ve got a good gig.”
My heart speeds. Now is the time. I take a deep breath. “But I don’t have a good gig, Andrew. I’ve been pretending—”
“Would you stop with the second-guessing already? I get it. You feel like an imposter. We all do, sometimes. But you’ve got to step up, babe, show that you’re up to the task. Stop doubting yourself. You’re coming into your own now, becoming the woman your mother—and I—always knew you could be.”
Oh, Jesus! I can’t tell him the truth now. “Um, well, I don’t know about that.”
“There’s not a doubt in my mind.” He pulls a cedar hanger from the closet and slides his suit coat over it. Then he removes his pants, finds their crease, and clips them to the hanger, bottom-side up. I study his smooth, tan skin and rippled abs. Along with his clothing and his physique, Andrew expects perfection in everything—including his girlfriend. A pit forms in my stomach.
“I’ve been thinking more and more about Bohlinger Cosmetics. I’d like you to consider bringing me aboard.”
I gasp. “I … I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
He shoots me a look. “Really? What’s changed? At one time you were all for it.”
Three years ago I went to my mother, asking her to create a position for Andrew. But she refused. “Brett, darling, I simply won’t consider it unless the two of you are married. And even then, you’d have a hard time convincing me to hire Andrew.”
“Why? He’s brilliant. Andrew works harder than anyone I know.”
“Andrew would be an asset to many corporations, no doubt. But I’m not sure he’s a good fit for BC.” She locked eyes with me then, the way she always did when she had something difficult to say. “My sense is that Andrew is a bit more aggressive than is necessary for a business such as ours.”
I swallow hard and force myself to look at Andrew. “But Mother was against it, remember? Besides, you’ve said many times what a good decision that was. You admitted you’d never be happy at a cosmetics company.”
He moves to the bed and leans over me, positioning one bare arm on either side of me. “But that was before my girlfriend was president of the company.”
“Which confirms the fact that you shouldn’t work there.”
He lowers his body, planting kisses on my forehead, my nose, my lips. “Imagine the fringe benefits,” he whispers, his voice husky. “We create an adjoining office next to your corner suite. I’m your company’s attorney as well as your private sex slave.”
I giggle. “You’re already my sex slave.”
Nuzzling my neck, he lifts my nightshirt. “There’s nothing sexier than a powerful woman. Come here, Madame President.”
But if you knew I was a powerless substitute teacher, would you still find me sexy? I grope for the lamp switch, grateful when the room goes black, and lie still as he makes his way down my body.
My good angel reminds me that I need to tell him the truth, and soon. My bad angel tells her to mind her own business, and wraps her legs around his naked back.
I arrive at Douglas Keyes Elementary clad in black slacks and a black sweater, wearing my bright orange shoes in honor of Halloween season. Children love teachers who dress in holiday themes, though I refuse to wear the requisite appliqué pumpkin sweatshirts until I’m at least fifty.
Principal Bailey, an attractive African American woman, leads me down a terrazzo hallway toward Mrs. Porter’s classroom.
“Woodlawn is home to several housing projects and a variety of street gangs. Not the easiest group to teach, but we’re up for the challenge. I like to think Douglas Keyes Elementary serves as a safe haven for our
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