Page 58 of Five Stolen Rings
I grab the crust from my ham sandwich and shove it in my mouth, just to give me a second. “I thought he was just a single, available guy,” I say when I’m done chewing. “He told me he preferred to go by his middle name, Nate.” I shrug, playing with the few remaining crumbs on the table in front of me. “One day when we were in the elevator together on the way out of the office, he tapped his cheek and asked if he could have a parting kiss. I was so surprised I didn’t say anything, and he laughed it off. Said he was joking. But I could tell he wasn’t. And I did like him,” I go on. “I would have been open to seeing where a relationship went. So the next day…”
Jack gives me all of three seconds before he gestures impatiently for me to keep going. There’s a muscle jumping in his jaw, but other than that, his face is impassive.
My face is not impassive. I can feel the vivid heat in my cheeks, the embarrassment and humiliation and even anger—at myself, at Nate, at the company for firing me.
I kind of want to go back into Jack’s bedroom and stick my head out the window again.
But I don’t. I plow on. I have a feeling if I said I didn’t want to talk about the rest of it, Jack wouldn’t make me, butI’ve come this far—and to be honest, it feels good to get it out. It feels good to tell someone besides my parents the whole story.
I inhale deeply and then speak. “The next day I decided to make my move. When we were in the elevator at the end of the day again, I kissed him. But the elevator doors opened, and there was a woman standing there”—I take another deep breath and force the last words out—“who turned out to be his wife.”
“His wife,” Jack repeats in a flat voice.
I nod miserably. “And apparently, Nate from the New York office was actually Fuller Nathan Smith Junior, one of thesonsfrom Smith and Sons.” I sigh, propping my head on my hands. “I was fired, obviously, and even though they tried to keep everything hush-hush, most of the people I worked with found out.”
“I…that’s not even legal,” Jack says slowly, his brow furrowed. “Firing you for that, I mean.”
My shrug is halfhearted at best. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I would never want to work there again anyway. I made some mistakes, but the way they handled the situation put averysour taste in my mouth.”
“What mistakes did you make?” he says, angry now. “He’s the one who?—”
“I didn’t do my homework, Jack,” I say, cutting him off. I’m suddenly very, very tired. “I could have found out more about this guy if I’d just asked around. But he was so secretive with me that I subconsciously acted the same way. I didn’t tell anyone about him. And I kissed him at work.” I shrug again. “He was a cheating jerk, but I could have been smarter.”
“You didnothing wrong,” he says, his eyesflashing. “Sue them. Good grief, Princess—you should absolutely sue them. And then I’ll hop over to California and kick that guy in the?—”
“Jack,” I say, exhaling. “Please.”
His eyes dart over my face, and for a moment it looks like he wants to say more. But eventually he just nods, a curt jerk of his head that’s equal partsI still don’t like itandI respect your opinion.
I fold my arms on the table and rest my head there as something strange settles inside me—a weight, not the bad kind but the steady, grounding, reassuring kind, like a heavy blanket on a cold night. There’s a peace, too, that rushes in and fills the void where this secret has been festering.
It feels…nice. And somehow Jack’s response is exactly what I need; he’s on my side, but he’s not going to push me.
“So what now?” he says.
“Find another job. Earn money. Stand on my own two feet,” I say, the words muffled because my head is still buried in my arms.
“Have you been looking for another job?” he says. The words aren’t skeptical or accusatory; they’re just curious.
“No,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve been…” Sulking? Wallowing in denial? Licking my wounds? “I’m going to,” I settle on.
Because…I think it’s time.
What happened to me was unfair. But I can’t change it. And I could fight back, but it would be time and energy that I could spend more productively by moving forward.
Maybe learning how to fail really just means learning how to stand back up. It seems easy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel easy.
But maybeeasyandsimpleare not the same thing.
“Yeah,” I say, lifting my head now as something solidifies in my mind. I meet Jack’s eye and nod. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to find a new job.”
JACK
I’ve never thought I was a good actor. I don’t have the patience to act, to pretend. There are other places I’d rather spend my energy.
Or so I thought—until today.
Because as it turns out, all that’s really needed for me to give an Academy-Award-worthy performance is sheer panic and desperation.
