Good Pet

With that, I exit the bathroom and hurry toward Cubicle Hell, where this file is destined. I leave it in the “in” basket on the biggest desk in Cubicle Hell, the one Tommy used to work at and hightail it out of there.

I practically run for the elevator, not wanting to wait around for Vanacore to do any more than she’s already done. Once in the elevator, I get on my phone and log into my work email. From there, I send Kane an email about what just happened with Vanacore. What’s been going on in the days prior, before she confronted me and dragged me into a bathroom to intimidate me. I CC Jake and Ashton on this, as well. I throw in at Reese as well, knowing she must know something about this by now.

I get that done just in time for the elevator to spin me back out on the ground floor. I put my phone away and quickly head to my car. As I do, a text comes in. I take a look at it as I’m hustling across the parking lot. It’s from Tommy and simply reads: Felt worried. Bad. Anxious. Please tell me you’re okay, babe.

He felt it. He felt Vanacore getting to me.

I get in my car, buckle up, and text him back. But not before locking all the doors in my car, in case Vanacore decides to cause me any more grief.

I’m okay, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’m headed home now, Tommy. Just relax and be happy. I’ll be there shortly. I feel bad for leaving him out of the loop when it comes to what Vanacore’s been doing to me. But, as I said before, I don’t want to make his life anymore hellish than it already is. Not when he’s already been through so much and is likely to go through that much more once my accusations are added, and he’s finally called in to give his evidence.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Tommy

I’m on my final week of “vacation” out of the two weeks Melissa put me on. Over the last fourteen days, though, it’s been anything but a vacation. In that time, I’ve spent very little time enjoying my time off, and more time dreading what’s been going on at work without me. With Melissa. With Vanacore. With just about everything involving the charges I now know have been filed with Kane and Co., as well as probably HR at this point.

I know its procedure. I know it’s what I was going after by trying to go after Vanacore and get her out of the company before she can do any more damage to anyone, including me. But I’m still beyond stressed about it. I have been for the last two weeks. And the only way I have felt like dealing with that stress has been to clean, organize things, go shopping for food, and for other household necessities. The things that Melissa shouldn’t have to do if I’m crashing at her place.

If I’m there all day with nothing to do, the least I can do is keep her household running, keep it clean, keep food stocked in the fridge, and meals on the table, which is what I’ve been doing all week last week, and some of this week.

I’ve started cooking in the mornings. Not just for our breakfast, but for Melissa’s lunches, and now, in the middle of the morning, I’m making plans to go to the grocery store. To go shopping for ingredients for the dinner I have planned for tonight, Kung Pow chicken with steamed broccoli, cashew nuts, carrots, and celery. One of the more exotic dishes I’ve made. One of the more complicated ones, too.

Anything to keep my mind and body off what’s happened to me. What’s potentially happening to Melissa at work every day, while I’m not there.

But, just as I’m ready to take my list of needed groceries, that’s been stored on my phone along with the coupons for some of the food items, my phone rings. Again, I can tell by the ring tone that it’s Dad. I don’t bother to pick up. Instead, I leave him to leave a message. As I have done for the last week and a half, anyway.

If he wants to abuse someone, let him abuse the voicemail. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t have feelings, unlike me, I think, grabbing my wallet, my spare key to the condo, and an energy drink from the fridge. He never says anything different, so why bother with it? Those thoughts in my head, I head on foot to the nearby grocery outlet, the one grocery store within walking distance, though it’s not cheap or crappy food by any means. It’s very high brow and trendy.

I’m wearing my comfortable shirt and pants that Melissa bought me from the first store we went to on our date. It seems like ages ago, though it was only two or three weeks ago. Melissa complimented me on them this morning. She told me that she might have to give me a very tender, very sweet, very intimate massage later. Something to relax me, and get us closer together.