L: Ha-ha. No comment. But you’ll never believe the email I got today.
P: Spill.
L: From HAMPTON. An apology. Apparently, he’s in rehab. Also, he said he’d wire me ten grand for any damages he caused.
P: Don’t you dare respond to that email, Lucille.
L: I won’t, I won’t. I promise, cross my heart and swear to Diana.
Carter could have left. He could have trekked downtown to his apartment. The roads had mostly cleared and life was picking back up to its usual post-Christmas rhythm. When he did leave, to grab his clothes and other essentials, he returned right back to Perdie and Bananas. She swore she could feel the ventricles of her own heart folding in on themselves when he leaned down to kiss her in her front doorway. Was this dying?
“Don’t binge-watch any shows without me. And I’m ordering salads too.”
When he returned, he’d changed. Back in his usual expensive but understated style. His stubble gone, jaw now freshly shaven. Work-appropriate attire.
In Perdie’s head the countdown had begun. She only had so many days left of snowed-in bliss until the harsh reality of the New Year, and the judgmental drudge of the workplace returned.
An email popped up on her phone. It was from the recruiter.
Perdita,
Perfect timing. Smith and Macher the firm on Meeting Street needs to fill a position right away with someone of your background. Can you go in for a meeting in the next few days?
Melissa
The morning to return to work had finally arrived. Perdie sent Carter back to his apartment before Lucille came home. She wasn’t ready for that introduction quite yet.
And for work today, in honor of her personal liberation, Perdie dressed in the spirit of Gloria Steinem. She wore high-waisted, flared, gray trousers with a thin black sweater and a middle part in her hair and everything. This is feminism, right? Lucille would know, but she was sleeping.
Before she got out of her car in the attorney parking lot, her phone dinged with a meeting request from Jennifer and Sophia. Perdie pursed her lips. Their relentless nosiness was an irritant. Jennifer and Sophia had gone radio silent over the holiday break, presumably taking the days off to spend with their families, but they apparently hadn’t forgotten the talk they’d had at the holiday party two weeks ago like Perdie hoped they would.
Perdie tapped the screen: DECLINE. First, she had a ton of work to do with Carter to prepare for their upcoming trip to San Francisco to meet with the Fletcher Group members. Not to mention the nebulous and looming threat of his entire family within driving distance. Second, she had a clandestine interview with a firm on Meeting Street for later in the afternoon should things take a murky turn at Joy and Schulz. And third, if Jennifer and Sophia were trying to weaponize her secret relationship with Carter against her, well—ha!—joke was on them, because she and Carter were about to come out with it that very morning, come hell or high water.
Her stomach flipped at the idea but it was better to ’fess up and control the narrative than get caught and have the story told for you, right? Right?
On cue, Carter pulled up next to her, the bump of his car door, and then a knock on her passenger window. She rolled it down.
“Oh come on, man.” Perdie shook her head.
“What? I just got here.”
Perdie opened the door, unfolding out of her vehicle to stand next to him. “Goddammit. We’re matching.” Carter’s gray pants and black sweater were a different cut than hers, but the likeness was unmistakable. “This is going to be a disaster, and we’re wearing matching outfits. Of course, you’re not nervous, you’re not the one with your career on the line.”
“It won’t go down like that. And even if it did, Frank’s only one person. And he isn’t the only person in the firm with power. I can use my skills for good as well, you know. Have a little faith.” He smiled. “And I like that we match. Signifies we’re a team.”
Her lip curled in a begrudging smile. “I don’t like it, but your cheesiness might be wearing off on me.”
They made their way into the building. The plan was to get the easy disclosure stuff with HR done first. Then head to dreaded Frank’s office. Perdie was much more concerned with interacting with Frank than Carter was, but she’d made her decision, and she was going to do this thing with Carter, right? Right?
“Knock, knock,” Carter said.
He and Perdie stood outside Frank’s office door. Frank glanced up, quickly clicking off his computer screen—but not before Perdie caught a glimpse of women’s lingerie. Something told Perdie it wasn’t for his wife, the burden, ha-ha.
“Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure from such a dynamic duo?” He rolled his chair to his desk, interlocking his fingers and resting them atop the surface. “The Fletcher Group has big things brewing on the horizon, acquisitions galore, so I hope you’re ready to wine, dine and sixty-nine ’em on your trip out to San Fran.”
“We’re more than prepared,” Perdie said, crossing her arms, but Carter cleared his throat.
“Actually, we came here to discuss something of a personal matter.”
Frank raised his eyebrows, his gaze on Carter. “Oh? Well then, you have my attention.”
“Regarding the matter of a newly developed personal relationship between Ms. Stone and myself. We understand the special nature of a relationship like ours and we want you to know that we will take all precautions to keep a safe and harassment-free work environment for all parties involved.”
“We—we already sorted it out with HR and everything, so nothing untoward or sordid to worry about,” Perdie stuttered. Heat rose in her cheeks at Frank’s blank stare. Oh shit. Not only was this embarrassing, but she honest to god had no clue how he would react. Sometimes, she swore Frank had it in for her to begin with, and the last thing she needed to do was provide a loaded gun with more ammo.
Stop yourself, P. You’re spiraling. You have another job interview today anyway.
It took a moment for Frank to respond, as if his brain were an old computer with too many tabs open. Then he unlocked his fingers, spreading them on the desktop. “Hmm...okay.”
Perdie nibbled her lip.
“And so...” Carter spoke slowly as if to a toddler “...we are disclosing information to you so that you can rest assured that we have the firm’s best interest at heart and that our personal relationship won’t interfere in any way with our own or anyone else’s professional relationships.”
Perdie held her breath, waiting. She was so fucked.
Frank narrowed his eyes for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of them. And then he let out a chuckle. “Ah, you kids. So serious. Relationship disclosure. Hell, back in my day half the second floor was screwing each other. You couldn’t walk down a hallway without hearing some kind of personal squabble about an affair. Sorry to disappoint, but nobody cares if you...do whatever it is you’re doing together. We’re all adults here. We’re all human. Plenty of people in this firm date or...eh, who cares.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
Perdie raised her eyebrows, tightening her arms to her chest as Frank’s gaze wandered there. “Oh.” The sound came out staccato. “Well then. Glad we are all at a reasonable...ah...understanding.”
