Rachel didn’t agree with my playboy ways and had a habit of retaliating by letting the women I slept with into my office. I think she got a kick out of seeing me try and confront them. She was lucky she was such a damn good secretary.
I groaned but made my way towards the elevator, taking it up to the thirteenth floor. Many people thought it was strange I put my office on such an infamous floor, but I’d done it on purpose. I didn’t believe that some number had a supernatural power over the universe. I’d made my own luck and I believed in that whole heartedly. It only seemed appropriate to flaunt my beliefs by putting my office in the thirteenth floor.
The long stretch of hallway was filled with the sound of muffled voices making deals and making money. It was music to my ears. When I finally reached my office, I could see the outline of a tall, busty woman through the frosted glass. The name Marie sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put a face to it. It was a fairly normal thing for me to not quite remember what my conquests looked like.
I stepped into the office and the woman’s face swung around. Her too-thin brows were pulled together and her bright red lips were twisted into a frown. She stood up, black dress clinging to every curve and line of her body, not leaving much to the imagination.
“Why didn’t you call?” she demanded.
God. Her voice was a little too high and her Brooklyn accent thick. It was like nails on a goddamn chalkboard. I winced and held my hands up, sighing softly. “I don’t call back, babe. We talked about that.”
“Don’t call me ‘babe’! You’re a sack of shit! My friends warned me about you! They told me about how you use women!”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past her, settling in my high back, leather chair. “Don’t start with this bullshit, Marie. You knew what this was. You knew what it was every time you came home with me. You use me just as much. Don’t pretend you don’t like the drinks and dresses I buy you.”
Marie was a returning customer. Now that I saw her face, I knew that I’d been with her at least twice. Both times we’d gone to restaurants outside of her price range and I’d treated her to clothes shopping, explaining to her that these little trysts weren’t signs of affection. They were obligations that I had accepted a long time ago. I wasn’t a total asshole, I wanted to give these women something in return for their time.
“I’m not a fucking hooker!”
“I never said you were!”
She stared at me, her hands balled into fists at her side. “You think you can pay me off with dresses and food! That’s not how relationships work!”
My eyes flashed with anger and I slammed my hands down on the table. “Look here, Marie! I was very straightforward with you! I told you what I wanted and I gave you what you wanted! It was a fucking exchange! I don’t play these dating games and you knew that from the start! You had every chance to walk away and you stayed exactly where you were!”
“I wanted you!”
I leaned back in my chair, my golden eyes narrowed, staring at her in slight disbelief. Did she really think she was going to pull the wool over my eyes? Did she think I was born yesterday? I’d been doing this for a long time and I knew exactly what women like her wanted.
“You wanted money.”
“That’s not true!” She argued, walking over to my chair. She reached out and touched my cheek, her cold fingers running along my unshaven jaw. “I want you, Jami…I want to be with you.”
“What’s my real name, then? What is Jami short for?” She looked confused and just stared at me. “Come on. I told you on our first date and all you’d have to do was a quick internet search if you forgot.”
“Well…It’s a trick question,” she murmured, her face going red. “Jami isn’t short for anything.”
I stood up and grabbed her arm, tugging her towards the door. “I could handle the fact that you’re annoying. I could even handle your disgusting begging, but what I can’t stand is fucking liars.” I opened my office door and pushed her out.
She stood there, shocked and just staring at me. I was angry now. At first, I’d just been annoyed, but now I was pissed off. “Get the fuck out of here, Marie! And don’t every come to my offices again.”
“But—“
“Don’t ‘but’ me! My fucking name is Jamison!” I snapped, slamming the doors closed.
The office was silent for a moment before the muffled dealing resumed. I fell into my chair and put my head in my hands for a moment, taking a deep breath through nose before letting it out through my mouth.
People who knew me always asked why I didn’t date. They asked me why I’d rather just sleep around. I was thirty-two now and most people assumed that I would have settled down by now, but the truth was that I didn’t want to settle down and I had no real intention to. Women like Marie were the reason I didn’t settle down. For some reason, people thought that only men were able to be knaiving assholes, but the truth was that women were just as capable. I didn’t want to end up trapped in a relationship with a woman who couldn’t care less about me.
For a long time, I just sat there, trying to relax and get over the anger rushing through me. I needed to just let it go and continue on with my day, but I was struggling a bit. Encounters like the one I’d had with Marie got under my skin more than I liked to admit.
There was a knock at the door and I lifted my head, grunting softly. “Come in.”
Rachel walked in, a stack of papers in her arms. She set them on the desk and glanced at me. “You look sour.”
“Don’t ever let that woman in this office every again.” I sounded a lot sharper than I meant to sound, but I couldn’t help it. Marie had put me in a bad mood.
“Mmmm…Did she piss you off?”