Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
The elevator arrives. I get inside, pretending to check my phone, but Jasmine isn’t to be deterred.
“Did you go shopping last weekend?” she asks, eyeing my bag and shoes. “It seems he’s feeding you well too.”
I look at her. “Why do you say that?”
“You picked up a little weight, but don’t worry, you’re still hot. Guys prefer fuller girls anyway.” She nudges my shoulder. “So, did he buy you the clothes? I mean, it’s obvious. We can’t afford those brands on our salaries, can we?”
Suppressing a sigh, I recite a lie that I take from Saverio’s book. “He likes to spoil me.”
She makes a puppy face. “You’re so fucking lucky, bitch.”
The doors open.
“If only you knew,” I mumble under my breath as I hurry down the corridor.
Just as I reach the kitchen, Ms. Price exits. I almost bump into her.
“Ms. Brennan.” She looks at me from down her nose, her mouth pulling into a frown as she moves her gaze over me. “I’m glad you decided to honor us with your presence.”
“I’d like to work in the hours I missed.”
She turns on her heel and heads toward her office. “That won’t be necessary. I already deducted the hours from your salary.”
I swallow my protest. As I’m not a permanent employee, I don’t have the advantage of paid leave.
“Try not to make it a habit,” she shoots over her shoulder. “With Mr. Lewis gone, we’re understaffed as it is.”
I run to catch up. “Ms. Price, I was wondering.”
She stops and looks at me.
Clutching the handle of the bag in both hands, I ask, “When is the funeral?”
She blows out a long breath and lifts her chin. “Ms. Lewis wants to keep it a private affair. Staff isn’t invited.”
“Oh, no. I’d never intrude.”
“Then why do you want to know, Ms. Brennan?” she asks in a haughty tone.
Guilt eats into my gut. “I’d like to send flowers.”
“We’re sending flowers from the office.” She checks her watch. “If that’s all, your shift started five minutes ago.”
“Of course,” I say as she walks away with a stiff back.
The other girls look up when I take my place at my desk. Jasmine shoots them a knowing smile. They no doubt discussed my outfit. Saverio may think our fake relationship will appear more authentic if he treats me like a real girlfriend, but he’s not making things easy for me.
Before, no one paid me attention. I could just keep my head down and get on with my work. I did a damn good job too, even if I have to say so myself, and I know Mr. Lewis was happy with my efforts. I just have to carry on doing more than what’s expected of me, and everything will be fine.
By lunchtime, the receptionist calls to say there’s a delivery for me. Not expecting anything, I walk to the front with a frown.
A basket with an arrangement of tomatoes wrapped in cellophane and tied with a huge, red ribbon stands on the desk. The bouquet is so big it obscures the receptionist’s face. The basket contains every shape and variety of tomato available in the state of New York, from dark purple beefy tomatoes to bright yellow elongated ones. Right in the middle is the biggest bottle of Worcester sauce I’ve seen.
Despite myself, a laugh bubbles from my lips. Pulling off the card, I open it.
In case you get hungry. Hope you’re feeling better.
It’s signed with a big, cursive S.
I need both arms to carry the basket to my desk. My colleagues give the unusual bouquet curious glances as I make space for it between heaps of files and my computer.
“Is that from him?” Jasmine asks when I sit down.
I pull my keyboard closer. “Yes.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Tomatoes?”
Shrugging, I open the balance sheet I’m working on. “It’s a private joke.”
“You’re having your period?” she asks, snickering as she catches the other women’s gazes. “Aww.” She pushes out her bottom lip. “Does that mean poor Saverio is suffering because sex is off the menu?”
I smile. “Do you think a little blood will put off a man like Saverio? I wish. At least my poor body would’ve gotten a break.”
The laugh dries on her lips. An envious look crosses her face before she goes back to work.
At closing time, Kevin marches over with stiff legs to help me when I shuffle sideways through the main entrance with my heavy tomato arrangement. He loads it in the trunk and asks if I’m going straight home or if I have a stop to make on the way. I tell him I’d like to go past Livy’s place, but it’s so close that I’ll walk, at which he replies he’ll park in one of the side streets until I call him to fetch me.
I thank him and start walking, but instead of driving away, he follows, rolling slowly down the road next to me until I reach my destination.