Thirty minutes on the elliptical would clear my head and stop me trying to think up ways to physically hurt Max King.
As I entered the gym, I noticed there were three men already there—one using the free weights, one on a bike, the other on a rower. And apart from the muted sounds of CNN coming from a TV fixed on the wall in the corner, it was quiet. I checked out the rest of the space. No mirrors, so I didn’t have to look at any part of me wobbling while I moved. Perfect. It was as if I’d invented the place myself.
Moving toward an empty elliptical, I avoided the blatant stare of the guy using the weights. I dropped my water bottle into the holder on the machine just behind the man on the bike—he had an amazing ass—hopped on, and tried to find a program that wouldn’t kill me. Just what I needed to stop me from thinking about the office—a hard workout and a nice view.
I found a program on the machine that I knew would be tough, but I wanted to be focused on something other than what a disappointment King & Associates was turning out to be. I needed to be able to tune out when I wasn’t in the office or I’d send myself crazy. My first day on the job, my jaw ached from smiling so much. I’d finally achieved my dream, and I’d done it all on my own. It felt as though I’d arrived on the first step of a bright future—where the beginning of all my plans converged. I’d been beside myself with excitement. But the sheen had worn off pretty quickly, sometime in the first week when I was introduced to Max and he’d barely looked up from his desk to say hello.
The guy on the bike gasped and sat up, circling his shoulders, then tilting his head one way and the other as he continued to peddle. He had a nice broad back, and jet-black hair drenched in sweat. He was going to need a serious shower. If he was the guy I’d heard having sex in the penthouse, I’d be happy to keep him company.
“You live in the building?”
I jumped when the guy who’d been using the free weights draped his arm over my machine. I hadn’t seen him head over. He was short, overbuilt, and so tan I wanted to ask him whether or not he’d lost a bet. He looked as if he belonged on the Jersey shore rather than downtown Manhattan. I nodded, hoping the fact I didn’t speak would put him off.
“You have a nice ass, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Really? He held up his hands when I shot him a look to kill. “No need to be snotty. I just like a nice ass.”
I fixed my stare to my machine’s panel, wanting to punch the guy.
“I think you better move on,” a man said from behind Jersey Shore.
“Hey,” Jersey Shore replied. “I was giving the girl a compliment.”
I kept my head down, not wanting to attract any more attention.
“Her loss, right?” my rescuer replied. I recognized that voice. My brain tried to work out if it was a famous person.
Jersey Shore moved away, and I glanced up with a smile. “Thank—”
It was like someone was trying to take a dump over my entire life.
Max-fucking-King stood right in front of me.
Kill. Me. Now.
The guy I’d come down here to escape was standing right in the middle of my gym in my apartment building. I glanced around. Jersey Shore had left, and the rower was still going. Max King was Nice Ass Guy. Life was just not fair.
My limbs stopped working and I half tripped, half stepped off the elliptical, stumbling into the wall behind the machines. Really? The hits just kept on coming.
“Are you okay?”
I peeled myself off the drywall as he moved toward me.
I nodded, unsure what I’d say if I actually managed to form words. How was this possible? My apartment was supposed to be my sanctuary from this man’s assholey behavior in the office. Now I had to worry about running into him in the corridors of my apartment building while I was drunk or not wearing makeup. Not that it mattered if he saw me without makeup or in my sweats; it would just be another reason for him to think less of me.
“Okay, well. I guess you live in the building,” he said, then clenched his jaw and flicked his eyes to the door as if he wanted to escape.
Fine by me.
“Yeah, I just moved in.”
He looked past me and pressed his fingers to his forehead as he had when reviewing my Bangladesh report. “Right.”
And that was it. Before I could think of anything else to say, he sped out the door as if his balls were on fire.
He had no more manners outside the office than in. He was still cold and rude.
Despite his nice ass.
I leaned against the wall, trying to make sense of it all. A year ago I would have thought my life had peaked at just being within a five-yard radius of Max King. Now he was not only torturing me at the office, but he’d just made my building gym a no-go area. I grabbed my water bottle and headed back to my apartment. Could my day get any worse?
After my near aneurism at running into Max in the gym, I’d taken the hottest shower possible without landing in the emergency room, blow-dried my hair, and then wrapped myself in my white silk robe, which I’d bought on sale at Barney’s. It always made me feel better. As if I had my shit together. I needed a BFF download, and I’d be back on track.
“Hey, Grace,” I replied as she answered my call.
“You sound like you’re about to put your head in the oven,” she said through the sound of her chewing on something.
I wanted to ask her if I could come over and spend the night. For the rest of my lease. “Just a bad day at work.” If I told her about Max being in the building, she’d have me moved back to Brooklyn before she could say the words sublet. I’d have to settle for a general gripe session, so I explained I’d still not heard back on the Bangladesh report.
“Have you ever thought about quitting your job? It really can’t be worth it.”
“I can’t quit. This is my dream position. It’s what I’ve worked so hard for. I just need two years on my resume, and then I’m golden.” And who knew. I might have won him over with the revised Bangladesh report. I could get into the office tomorrow to find he’d turned over a new leaf.
And I might be the next Beyoncé.
“Two years is a long time to be miserable. You could always talk to your dad.”
Was she serious? “Why would you even say something like that?” Grace knew I was the only one of his kids not working at JD Stanley, his investment bank. My three half brothers had all started on the graduate course the September after college. I’d thought I’d get the satisfaction of turning him down, but he never asked. Why would Grace think I would call him? I didn’t want anything from him.
“You do the kind of work his firm needs, right? Don’t you have like a perfect skill set for him?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Ben and Jerry’s cries from the kitchen were growing louder. “I wouldn’t work for him if he was the last man on Earth. And if you remember, he never offered me a job. I didn’t have the correct reproductive equipment.”
“He probably didn’t think you wanted it.” It didn’t mean he couldn’t have asked. “He doesn’t know you, doesn’t get how brilliant and ambitious you are. He’s like a hundred years old. He’s probably just old-fashioned.” Was he just from a different generation who thought women should stay at home and look after the kids? If he’d ever gotten to know me, he would know I wasn’t like that.