"Trust me, I've not forgotten," I mumble but he ignores my comment.
The minute I start looking through the catalogues I become absorbed. My eye for colour, details, management of space and linking pieces with their owner, grab hold of my attention.
I don't only help him to pick out pieces but also show him how I envision everything. I become so animated speaking about designing his office the way he wants it, modern and chic but with a bit of old school feel to it, that I don't realize he's just sitting there staring at me until I ask him what he thinks.
At his lack of response, I turn from the window where I had indicated how he could make an arrangement of potted plants. My heart lurches with my chest to find him staring at me.
"You're a natural at this," he says almost in awe. "How do you know so much about this?"
Before I could respond about my Arts degree, my tummy growls. Not silently but loud enough to be heard by James. My cheeks colour in embarrassment.
"I've only had an apple to eat all day," I inform him.
"What?" His expression turns stormy. "What do you mean you've only eaten an apple?"
"I didn't have time to make breakfast this morning and I haven't had time to take lunch."
"But you bought me breakfast this morning. You mean, you didn't get yourself something too?"
I shake my head. "I'm on the job. I take my lunch when I'm supposed to."
"You bloody fool!" he exclaimed angrily. "Do you think dropping down on the job will help you to get out of your contract? Why didn't you take lunch?"
"You kept giving me things to do," I answered stiffly, not liking him referring to me as a 'bloody fool.'
"Not at the expense of your lunch. Go. Now."
I stalk out of the office furiously. I was quite positive I should schedule an appointment for a psychiatrist somewhere in his weekly calendar. He packed my day full of errands and tasks to do for him causing me to skip lunch then get mad at me for skipping lunch? Should be mad at himself and not me?
I shake my head, convinced I would never understand this man and that's the reason I have to go. He is crazy and my attraction to him is even crazier. You're supposed to be attracted to someone you like. I don't have a single bone in my body that likes Mr. James.
I drove the ten minutes to McGraw Avenue for lunch at La Rosita, a Mexica restaurant. After ordering my meal of chicken fajita. feeling much better than when I entered the restaurant.
Now if that man would just give me so much time alone when I get back to the office, I could look up a flight on the computer. I will have to spend a couple of hundred dollars which isn't ideal now that I'm not working but it can't be helped.
Something tells me if I simply stay home tomorrow, Mr. James would find his way to my apartment. Not many employees would but I'd bet my money he would.
For whatever reason, this man has it in his head to torture me.
After quickly eating lunch, I pay for my meal, leaving a decent tip because I am feeling much better now that I have a plan. I would go through the rest of the day with a smile on my face no matter how hard he pushes me.
*****
Apart from a few calls he asks me to make, he leaves me alone for the rest of the day. When he walks out of the office, heading for the elevator, I feel a sense of relief and open a private browser.
I quickly made a search for cheap flights from Detroit to Birmingham tomorrow. I always travel Southwest because of the free check-in bags as well as their cheap flights but I couldn't find a return flight cheaper than $600. Damn.
The urge to pee had me fleeing my desk and heading for the bathroom. I relieve my bladder and wash my hand, drying with the automatic dryer before returning to my desk. As I sit on the cushioned chair, I hear noise in Mr. James's office.
He is back? I glance quickly at my computer screen and see it had time out and faded the screen grey. He didn't see my computer screen, had he?
I determine he hasn't seen the screen or he wouldn't be calmly putting about his office. I return to the website and quickly purchase a one-way ticket.
At five, I poke my head in his office, my cheeks flushed because I am excited. This time tomorrow I would be with my friends and he would be none the wiser.
"I'm off for home," I inform him.
He doesn't look up from his computer, simply nods and continue tapping away at the keys as though I'm invisible. I close the door a little harder than necessary, checking again to ensure my computer is shut down properly before leaving the office.
My heart aches because I can't take the pictures on the desk. If I do then he would realize I am up to something. I gaze longingly at the last picture of my mom. Maybe I'd ask Marry to swing by and collect my things for me.
*****
I reached Bingham at night my friend Maria received me. We were so happy to see each other after a very long time. We were childhood friends no doubt more than sisters.
Later in the night, after we watch an episode of 2 Broke Girls— we both love that TV Show since the girls' friendship bears resemblance to our own—
"Can't you just mess up your job and make him want to fire you?" she asks me. "There must be another way you can get out of that job. Why is he gunning for you like this anyway? Are you sure you never did anything to piss the man off?"
"Unless he is so petty, he can hold a grudge against me for running into him," I answer, stuffing a pair of jeans in my bag. "Then you're answer is yes, I'm sure I've not done anything to piss the man off. It's like he is not happy until he has that one person to torture and unfortunately I am that one person."
"If only you weren't such a pushover."
"I'm not a pushover1!" I protest throwing the pillow at her.
"You are too!" she responds. "You never stick up for yourself and that's why people take advantage of you. You should walk up that your boss and say "My name is Emmy. I'm your PA. I've worked here for two years and I'm pretty awesome at my job and I won't take any more bullshit from you."
I snort at her. "Trust me, you don't know who James Thomson is. Did I tell you he threatened to sue me for hitting his security guard?"
"Well, you did shove the man in his gut with the box."
"Only because he wouldn't move. By the way, whose side are you on? Mine or his?"
"Yours of course," she replies dropping herself onto my bed and pulling her phone from her pocket. "Why don't we google him? Maybe we'll find some dirt you can use against him."
"If it's on Google, it's not a secret anymore."
"Let's google him anyway."
I pretend as though I'm not interested though I want to know what Google has to say about the man. I hang a shirt and wait impatiently for Maria to spill what she's reading.
"Damn, he's gorgeous," Maria announced. "If you don't want him, I'll take him. Can we switch jobs?"
I scowl at my best friend, not caring for the thought of her with James? When had I stopped thinking of him as Mr. James?
"Be my guest," I told her though inside I am disturbed at the mental picture of him with her. He probably would enjoy her too. Way more than if it's me. Beautiful experienced Maria with the bigger boobs and bubblier personality. What would I ever have to offer a man like that?
"Drat, he's already taken."
"He's married?" I ask, spinning around to face her and I can't help the hint of disappointment from my tone.
She laughs and points a finger at me. "I knew it. You are interested in him. Admit it."
"He's not the first guy I've ever been attracted to," I tell her and it says a lot. Even with guys I like, my insecurities and inexperience keep me away from them.
"He's not married," she clarifies. "Although he has several pictures taken with some very high-class women. Holy hell! The guy's not only a millionaire. He's a billionaire."
My heart sinks. That explains why he thinks he can boss me around and have things his way.