Curved Page 2

Angela nodded. “Another deal with them, probably.”

  Antonio was our competitor. Lindsay worked for them. They were the second largest investment bank in Manhattan, and thusly, the second most prestigious in the world.

  Maybe that’s why Lindsay hated me.

  “No,” Joseph screamed. “I’m not having that. I’m not. You take those advertisements down right now. They’re stupid, wrong, and false.”

  After a beat, we heard Joseph slam his phone down on the table. Angela and I gasped.

  Damn. Someone had gotten him really angry. And that someone could only be Antonio.

  Investment banking always had people’s tempers flaring. It was the name of the game, you get angry, I get angry. We do a deal. In the end, both of us make money regardless. It’s just a matter of how much money either of us will make, since these businesses are so large and can’t fail.

  “Should we knock?” I whispered. “I’m scared.”

  “Girl, you’re always scared,” Angela said. “I’ll do it on three.”

  She counted, but before her hand could even land for one, Joseph called us in. “I’m waiting for you in here,” he said. “I know you’re standing out there. Open the door.”

  Angela squealed again. I cupped my hand over my mouth. Looking up, I thought that he must’ve been watching the two of us on camera. Gripping the doorknob, Angela pushed forward with me behind, my heart quickening as we saw him. How could I not be nervous? Without him paying me, I had very little in the way of supporting myself. His temper could flare at any moment and against me.

  Our heels clicked on the real marble floors. The echo carried upwards and outwards as we entered. Joseph’s floor was the topmost one, with a full panoramic view of Manhattan inclusive of the bay front properties a couple avenues down. The window stretched up to the ceiling, where handcrafted moldings lay. Near his desk, there were three or four chairs, which Angela and I picked apart to sit in.

  I scraped my heels against the floor. Anxious, I wanted our initial meeting to be over. This always happened: he would call us up, we would meet, and then go over the day’s agenda. We were supposed to be shadowing him, intently, but I could hardly focus. Doing my job right the first time involved so much of my headspace, that I had no mental power to really think about other topics.

  “I’m glad the two of you made it early,” Joseph said, his voice traveling from one side of my ears to the other. His tone raked my flesh raw was goosebumps. I shivered in place, arching my eyebrow, scooting my chair closer. God, why was I such a fool? I fell for guys like this too much, but whenever I stared at his chiseled jaw, his muscular chest prodding out from his tailored dress shirts—God, I got wet. Just his voice made me crazed, a fiery sensation cutting my thighs with a leap to my crotch. Crossing my legs, I licked my lips, and kept my thirst to myself. I mean, this guy had quite the temper. And I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. Or did I? “I’ve designated a couple tasks for you to go through. Both of you.”

  Angela and I exchanged glances. I wondered what we were going to do. Especially after his outrage. Normally, when he got caught up in heated deals, he put us on the backburner, which we both kind of enjoyed. Those days were much easier than the normal ones where he gave us thousands of Excel spreadsheets to go through. My guess was more of the latter than the former.

  “We’re ready for whatever,” Angela said, nodding. “Will you be needing help with anything else?” I could tell she was trying to broach the subject of what he was yelling about.

  Joseph shrugged his shoulders, his hair gleaming in the light. My cunt tightened together, my clit throbbing under the weight of my thigh—I had crossed my legs one over the other, but the pressure only heightened the pleasure of sitting down in front of Joseph.

  Why couldn’t I have a less sexy boss? Then I could focus more on what was important.

  “Antonio decided to run a recent campaign,” Joseph said, swiveling his computer monitor around so that we could see the screen directly. He typed silently, stewing in his thoughts. When he reached a login screen, he entered his password and email, along with other credentials. In the interim, Angela and I let our eyes rove around the room aimlessly. What was she thinking about?

  Without saying another word, Joseph clicked on a video, and then an advertisement played on the monitor. Big and bold, Antonio swam up from the bottom of the screen, his suit and tie just as immaculate as Joseph’s. Tall and muscular, it wasn’t any stretch of the imagination to see him as a quarterback in college.

  An American flag wavered across the screen, slowly fading and allowing Antonio to surface at the forefront. He smiled, the tune of Yankee doodle playing in the background.

  “Do you want Placarm Rhodes off-shoring more jobs to random people abroad? Do you care about keeping jobs here in Manhattan? Well I’ll have you know—Placarm Rhodes isn’t abiding by any of those rules.”

  I knew where this was going. Angela’s eyes twitched, her lids falling over to shut out the sight she was seeing. I averted my gaze, because I hated these crossfire politics—they could get so nasty, and the last thing I wanted was to be embroiled in a massive scandal.

  “Joseph Videl, yes, right here in Manhattan, New York, is doing precisely what I’ve mentioned. He’s off-shoring jobs.” And an image of migrant workers flashed across the screen. “He’s making a point of mocking our nation!” And an image of Joseph rose up from around Antonio, showing Joseph at parties while beggars starved in the streets. “He’s making a nuisance out of business here in New York, stalling plans to enact better rights for workers, which ultimately hurts us and you…”

  Joseph cut off the video. He turned the monitor around, a breath escaping from his lips like a long whistle through a valley.

  “He’s making crap up,” Joseph said. He placed his hands over his abdomen, trim and lean hands, a tight waist. I turned my gaze outside to the horizon beyond, attempting to listen to his exact words. My body kept reacting to his apparel, the way his voice lingered in my mind. He was angry and I was turned on. “I can’t stand men like him, because these are the men who don’t do business properly. They’ll go behind your back, right when they think they can take advantage of you. That’s precisely why I was so pissed earlier—Antonio thinks he’ll be giving airtime to blast his nonsense over every radiowave and television station here in New York.”

  “Well,” Angela said, pressing her lips. “Will he?”

  “No,” Joseph said. “I’ve got my lawyers on my side. But this is just one of many random attacks I’ve faced in the last couple of weeks.”

  “Sounds like he’s running a political campaign,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Joseph said. “The word is that he’s going to try this very year.”

  “Scary,” Angela said, probably to gain Joseph’s favor. I glanced over to her, and her back was straight, her legs pinned upright. Never before had Angela been so attentive. I needed to take some tips. “What are you going to do?”

  “Fight him,” Joseph said, grinning. His teeth were white and straight. Naturally so, since his jawline was a perfect knife edge and even on both sides. Perfect male beauty. He turned his eyes to me, noticing my drifting, probably. “What do you think I should do, Ophelia?”

  I stuttered. Then I found my voice, although as fast as it had arrived, it disappeared. “I—I—I—uhm, well, I’m not really sure. You’re taking care of things already, I think. Very well, I might add.”

  Joseph cackled. He leaned back with one palm flat on his arm rest. “You don’t have to be so stiff with me,” he said, “neither of you do. You’re like old secretaries. There’s way more time in the future for both of you to age up—c’mon.”

  I let my shoulders slacken, my body relax. Still, my lungs felt like they could be punctured if Joseph only brushed his hands over my chest.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” Joseph said, “because anyway, both of you have lots of files to go through. Math. I hope you remember how to do macros as w
ell.”

  Investment banking looked glamorous in the movies. Deals, sexy lives, and tons of glamour. But the grunt work, the associate level work, always adhered to rote memorization of skills, data entry, and teleconferencing. Boring. Not wanting to sound entitled, I never complained about my job, although it couldn’t be any more boring, honestly. We never did exciting, high level artistry with the numbers we had in front of us. Instead, we performed basic accounting, checked the math of other departments, and created endless macros for Excel spreadsheets. God, I get flashbacks still.

  “I’ve already attached the necessary documents and forwarded them to your email addresses. Check them on your phones now, so we’ll be on the same page if I need you.”

  Pulling out my phone, I scanned my inbox, seeing that we had over 100 files. Damn.

  “Get to work, ladies,” Joseph said, his glittering blue eyes catching my attention. “I’ll see you in a couple moments, yes?”

  “Of course,” Angela said, lifting her chair slightly so it wouldn’t scratch the floor. She stood closer to his desk, extending her arms, shaking his hands. Doing the whole interview charade, even though we weren’t even interviewing. “We’ll be waiting for you, oh, yes we will.”

  She’s overdoing it, I thought, putting my hand over my eyes. I grabbed her wrist, before she embarrassed herself any further; but Joseph seemed to be amused, crossing his arms, giving both of us eyes. My heart stopped, its beat off-timed and thumping. I stayed in that space, that intangible space between two people—when Joseph gave me his eyes, I gasped.

  How could any man be so good-looking? With thick black hair, and a body I could spend days admiring, he was a Greek god incarnate.

  We stumbled away from him, and he turned from us back to his original work.

  Outside, I glared at Angela. “What was that?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I get so locked up when I’m around him. It’s like there’s a different Angela in the room.”

  I rolled my eyes, but even I couldn’t stop from gushing. Joseph pressed my clit from even far away, as if my body were every keystroke he performed on his computer. “I don’t blame you,” I said. “I’m always different when he’s around. He’s got this commanding presence.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Angela said. “I know you want to fuck the man. He’s like, ‘This Ophelia bitch is hot’ all the time, too. You guys should just finish it up already.” Angela laughed.

  “That’s not true,” I said, blushing. Although my panties had gotten wet and warm from the liquid dripping out of my clit and cunt. Dammit. I guess my best friend knew me better than I knew how to handle. “Whatever the case, we’ve got so much work to do, I’m already stressed. If I have any more, I might just go back to Jersey and drop out of college.”

  We entered the elevator, our reflections following us like ghosts. The doors closed. Angela and I stayed still, catching a breather.

  She draped a finger over one of the buttons. “Hey, don’t be so gloomy,” she said. “If you quit college, then I’m going to lose some serious morale.”

  The elevator rattled as we descended.

  “You don’t need me,” I said. “You know what Zena thinks. Everyone can just run everything without me. Why even bother having me around?”

  The doors opened up, a ringing announcing our arrival. Not our stop. Two men in suits locked inside, carrying briefcases, papers under their arms. They nodded at us, and the doors closed.

  I hated to whine any further, so I fixated on the math ahead of us. Pounds of analysis. Spreadsheet files that could fill up my entire bedroom. Wall-to-wall, at that. I ran through the various equations in my head, all the stuff I would be doing if it weren’t for my ace in the hole.

  One of the main reasons why I could balance being president of a club and simultaneously school plus work was because of a couple programs I ran whenever I needed to do the tasks associated with Placarm Rhodes. I thought it was fair to automate my work—if Joseph only wanted results, and that’s all he ever asked for, then did it really matter how I got them? Besides, I had tests to worry about, and the programs I used were always top-notch.

  I didn’t tell Angela about how I completed my spreadsheets so fast. Actually, when we got to our workstations on the 30th level, I pretended to be deeply mesmerized by all the numbers flying over my screen. In reality, I only had to click three or four prompts and then my laptop was off.

  Yes, it was selfish of me not to tell Angela. But then again, if I did, she would blab and everyone would know. She had this way about her that was energetic and frenetic. Unpredictable. Better off to keep all my secrets to myself.

  Maybe I should’ve just gone for computer science instead? You would think that the obvious solution would be to major in social work or something along those lines, but as I finished wrapping up my program, I thought about the money in my bank account, and how I could help so many people.

  It sounds disingenuous from the outside looking in, but from the inside looking out, that’s how I felt: if I only had enough funds, I could do whatever I wanted. No longer shackled by poverty, my dreams could be accomplished in small pieces. I would buy a plot of land near uptown for the homeless. Then I could expand. Work with larger groups who have always been advocates for those in need—Goodwill and the like. Wouldn’t they want me? Programming their websites, networking with other smaller local organizations? It sounded too ethereal and ephemeral for me.

  Anyway, I was almost done with my work. In only a matter of moments, I had to print out my sheets, show them to Joseph, and be out of the office.

  He could never know.

  “Are you finished already?” Angela said, sneaking up on me. I jolted awake from my reverie. “What, no way.”

  I scrambled my mouse across the screen of my laptop. Folding it with my legs, I narrowed my eyes at Angela. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I said. “I hate being surprised.”

  “Well, be surprised. Joseph wants to see you.”

  I arched my eyebrow at Angela. “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you receive the email? Check your phone.”

  “Text. He texted me.”

  Joseph: I need you.

  I smiled to myself, guarding my screen. Angela hovered over me, crossing her arms, smiling. “What could it possibly be?” she said. “Are you going to finally have an affair with him?”

  “Stop it,” I said, giggling. “He probably has a very faithful girlfriend to attend to. I can’t imagine him single.” Standing, I gathered my laptop and purse, turning for the door. Wow. Several hours had passed. The daylight had faded from Manhattan. I hadn’t noticed though.

  “See you later?” Angela said, following me to the door. She stuck her head out as I went to the elevator. “Tell me how large he is, okay? It’ll be our… Little secret?” Angela laughed from behind me.

  I just kept going. Why would Joseph want me? Need me?

  Chapter 3

  I took the long way to the elevator. The floors in the halls were done in carpet, like in a hotel, and the view was generous no matter where you walk. In the hallways, there were still workers left behind, their shifts not ending until midnight. Investment banking required heavy hours, and most people lost their sense of personal life, personal space, all for the sake of more money.

  Ironically, work was the only place I had to myself. The only place where I could escape into my thoughts and daydreams, analyzing pieces of my journey, my memories. My programs saved me so much effort and mental processing, that I actually sometimes enjoyed coming in.

  When the elevator rang for Joseph’s floor, I waited in the carriage to catch my breath.

  My heart sped. My legs were crumbling under me, as if my feet couldn’t handle the weight of my body anymore.

  “He’s only a man,” I said. “One man. Only him.”

  Whenever I thought of Joseph, when I was away from him, I became flustered and heady. He prevented me from thinking straight, distracted me from my life. Oh, if on
ly the internship would end already. Then I could get away and laser-in on the important goals of my life.

  At his door, I heard no shouting, no screaming. I pressed my ear to the handle, wondering if he was on the other side. Feeling safe, I gripped the doorknob, pressing onward just like Angela.

  “There you are,” Joseph said, his legs on the edge of his table. The shoeshine glossing his feet caught my attention immediately—it was in the details that Joseph was said to have climbed up to the top of Wall Street. By catching other investment banks offguard, he managed to outmaneuver them, the opposition—people like Antonio, for instance. Sitting in front of him, I felt myself shrinking.

  This was a giant of a man. A mogul. Someone who knew infinitely more than I did.

  “Sit closer to me,” Joseph said, sweeping his legs off. He cleared a space in front of himself, knocking with his hands on the center of his desk. Tapping his keyboard, he brushed aside a couple pens, papers, and allowed me room to place my laptop and purse down. Clearing my throat, I edged as close as I could to him, as close as I was comfortable with.