Not Sorry

Fuck, I’m hungover.

And tired.

No, exhausted.

I could sleep for another week straight and still not get enough sleep. I thought I’d feel better after spending the last forty-eight hours doing nothing but sleeping and drinking. But I was wrong. All it did was make me feel worse. I feel no more rested than I was when I left, and I haven’t gotten the images of Olive out of my head any more than I could before I left.

So, that’s why I’m taking some drastic measures. I can’t get Olive out of my head, and I’m not sure if abandoning her in my apartment and not calling her is going to be enough to really make her hate me. I’m going to tell Olive the truth about what I do for a living. That’s the only solution I’ve come up with. If I tell her what I do for a living, then she’ll hate me. And, if she hates me, she won’t want to fuck me again. Problem solved. I might even get lucky, and she might quit.

Then, I can focus on what I really came here to do. Run a successful real estate company and to see if I still have a shot with Jamie. And, if I don’t have a chance with her, then I need to learn to get over her.

I step foot inside the office and expect it to be bustling with people, as it usually is on a weekday. I’ve learned from my week here and from speaking with Jamie on the phone that Monday through Friday are the busiest office days while the weekends are the busiest days for the realtors to be doing open houses and showing houses to clients. And my role as the boss is to get people straightened out during the week so that they can do their best at selling the most houses over the weekend.

But I don’t expect what I see when I enter the office. I was expecting the office to be a bit chaotic on Monday morning after a busy weekend and since I wasn’t here over the weekend to ensure that everything was running smoothly. But what I see when I walk into the office is complete chaos. People are running around everywhere with no clue as to what they’re doing. Papers are flying and strewed all over desks in complete and utter disorganization. But that’s not what worries me. Disorganization, I can easily fix. What scares me is the look on everyone’s faces as they run around the office. Something’s not right.

“What’s going on?” I ask Jennifer, one of the realtors, as she walks by.

She stops and looks up at me with fear in her eyes. “It’s Monday?” she half-asks and half-says, but I know it’s not the truth.

I sigh and continue walking to my office. I need answers, and I know the only woman who is going to give me any sort of honest answer as to what the hell is going on is Olive. And, as much as I’d rather hide in my office all day and wait to talk to her until later, it doesn’t seem that I’m going to get to wait.

I walk straight to her desk, but she’s not there. I glance at my watch. It’s a quarter till nine. Olive is always here by this time. Usually, she’s already been here at least an hour or more. I glance around the office to see if I can find her. But I don’t see her anywhere, and I don’t know where to start looking.

Floyd walks over. “Where is Olive?” he asks.

“I was wondering that myself.”

Floyd’s face turns to panic. “Shit.”

“What?” I say a little too sternly.

Floyd’s eyes dart from Olive’s desk to my eyes. “It’s just that there’s only been one other time when Olive was sick with the flu and didn’t come in to work. Happened about two years ago, and it was the worst week. Nobody sold any properties that week. It’s like she’s a good-luck charm or something. Or she put a curse on this place, and we can only sell properties as long as she is here.”

“What makes you think Olive is sick?” I ask.

“Do you see her anywhere?” Floyd says, annoyed.

He runs out to do God knows what while I stand, frozen, staring at the chaos. I’m beginning to think that the reason for the chaos might be because Olive isn’t here.

I haven’t had enough time this week to really see what Olive contributes to the team, but it seems she might contribute more than I ever gave her credit for. But whatever it is that she contributes, even if it’s as simple as just providing stability and normalcy for the rest of the employees, I’m going to figure it out.

But, in the meantime, there’s one thing I know for sure. Olive isn’t sick. She’s avoiding me. She’s too embarrassed to come into work after she let her boss bang her.

I stop the next person who walks by even though I don’t know her name. “Can you tell me Olive’s address?”

The woman shrugs. “No, but I’m sure Jamie has it somewhere.”

I pull out my phone as I walk into my office. I try Olive’s number first, but I get no answer. She is definitely avoiding me. I frown. It’s like everything I’ve taught her has already gone out the window. I’m fine with Olive quitting or thinking this isn’t the position for her. I’m not fine with her hiding. She doesn’t get to take the easy way out. I need her to fight for what she wants. So, I text Jamie and head back out to find Olive. And I hope that, in the meantime, the company doesn’t come to a crashing halt.

I pull up in front of her apartment building, but I can’t believe that this is where she lives. Jamie must have made a mistake when she sent me her address. I try calling Jamie and Olive, but neither of them answers. So, it leaves me no choice but to go inside and see for myself that this isn’t her place.

The apartment building doesn’t have a valet or parking garage that I can find, so I have to circle the box three times before I find any sort of street parking that’s close. Although, after seeing the neighborhood that she loves, I really wish I had taken a cab and left my car back in the parking garage at the office.

I jump out of my car and run inside the building, determined to make this as quick as possible so that nothing happens to my car. I head over to the elevator and see the large sign that says it is out of order.

Really? How can an elevator be out of order in an apartment building this tall?

I dash over to the stairs and run up, quickly taking them two at a time, struggling for breath. I might be in shape. I run and lift, but I’m not used to climbing stairs like this. When I finally make it to her floor, I’m sweating and out of breath. This is ridiculous. I’ve done all this, and I still don’t think she lives here.