Creed's Expectations Page 5

  I flush and bolt out of the stall. I exit the bathroom, ignoring the stares of the ladies in the washroom. I hurry to the elevator, press up and pray that I make it to my room in time. I’m sweating pretty good right now and if anyone gets too close, I bet I smell just delightful. The door opens and I throw myself in and press the fourteenth floor.

  “Hurry, please…” God, why now? I make it to my floor and scurry to my room. Just as I hit my door and reach into my purse for my key, it dawns on me.

  “Oh, fuck me.” I forgot to get a new key. I’m hopping from one foot to the other, fighting off the pains and urges. I can feel a bead of sweat drip down my nose and I swear to God I’m going to squat in the plant in the hallway and lose my shit. Literally.

  It’s then someone up above heeds my prayer.

  I see the housekeeper.

  “Hey!” I yell, scaring her as she turns the corner down my hallway. “Please, I don’t have my key and I really need to get into my room.”

  “Si, front desk will issue you new key.”

  “No, you don’t understand, I don’t have time to do that, I really need to get into my room now.”

  Not understanding the severity, she begins to roll her cart past me as she repeats the same thing. “Front desk will issue you new key.”

  I grab her cart, halting her. “Listen, lady. I need in my room now. Otherwise, I’m going to shit all over your carpet, and guess who’s probably gonna have to clean it up? You! Open my damn door!”

  Her eyes widen, certainly picturing the gross mental image of scraping up feces off the floor. She shakes her head but thankfully goes to open my door. I’m already unbuttoning my pants and the second I hear the door beep, I push past her and run into my bathroom.

  THE BANGING ON MY DOOR finally wakes me up. I assume it’s just room service wanting to see if I’m still holed up in my room since I’m sure its way past check-out time. I try lifting my head, but everything hurts. Well, forty-eight hours of solid food poisoning will do that to a person.

  Once I got into my room, I experienced a hell of a sickness that I never wish to experience again. I know there’s a first for everything, but pooping while barfing in a garbage can is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Except maybe Steven. I swore I just needed an hour and I’d be okay to go back downstairs, still make it to half the tables, and get some good one-on-one time with some strong companies. After hour three, I determined I wasn’t going anywhere. After hour seven, I convinced myself I was just straight-up dying. I watched the sun set and rise, and still the bathroom and I were at war. I couldn’t keep anything down, and even an hour curled up in the shower didn’t help me feel better. It didn’t help that whatever energy I had, I spent crying because I couldn’t even believe I was missing that damn job fair.

  Now it’s Sunday, job fair over, and I can’t even peel myself out of my bed to leave. I’m probably going to miss my flight and have to hitchhike home because I’m broke and can’t afford a new plane ticket.

  More banging, and I lift my head. “I’m still here, go away,” I groan, dropping my head back onto the pillow. Apparently room service doesn’t hear me because I hear the beep of the lock and the door opens.

  “I’m checking out soon,” I grunt into my pillow with no more energy to lift my heavy-ass head.

  “Where have you been?” Creed’s deep voice unexpectedly vibrates throughout my room.

  Noooo.

  “Oh God, get out of here,” I moan, covering my face. The last person I want to see right now is him. I begin to panic that my room smells god awful and I look about as good as the smell of my room.

  “Are you sick? Did something happen to you?” His voice is closer and I’m horrified he might be standing right by the bed.

  “Please go away,” I beg, curling tighter into the fetal position. The only problem with this position is that I’m only wearing a towel. And I think I am giving him a complete view of my bare ass and friend down below.

  I feel the bed dip.

  This can’t get any worse.

  I feel him tug on the pillow I’m suffocating myself with and I fight back until he wins and it’s ripped from my grip.

  “Have you been up here all weekend?”

  I groan, not wanting to do this with him. So much for him leaving with the last image of me sated and beautiful. Okay, so pretty. Or maybe just okay-looking. Shut up, Kasey. I lift my aching neck to look at him, the sun blinding me. I close my eyes and rest my head back down. “I must have eaten something bad on Friday. I woke up not feeling well on Saturday, and well, the rest is history. Now, can you please leave?”

  “What happened with your job fair?”

  Oh, my God, he really wants me to acknowledge rock bottom here.

  “Nothing happened with it. I made it to one table before running for my life back to my room. Now, can you leave, because I need to get up and try to make my flight.”

  Obviously, I don’t look like I’m moving anytime soon. Startling me, he reaches out, placing the back of his hand against my forehead.

  “You’re warm.”

  “Well, American Airlines waits for no one,” I say, groaning as I try and sit up. Yep, back down I go.

  “Stop, you’re not going anywhere. Why didn’t you call someone?” he asks, and if I’m not mistaken he sounds… angry.

  I use the tiny amount of energy I have to laugh. “And who exactly was I going to call?” His glare tells me he doesn’t think I’m funny. He looks pissed, but I’m too tired and sore to figure out why. “How did you get into my room, by the way?” I ask, but he ignores me. He leans over, grabbing the phone and dials a number.

  “Yes, this is room fourteen-twenty-two. I need some ginger ale and crackers brought up. Also, bring some bread and any sort of soup you have. Preferably broth. Charge this to room seventeen-eighty-four. Yes, the Presidential Suite.” He hangs up and brings his eyes back to mine. I can’t tell if he looks concerned or annoyed.

  “Are you sore?”

  “God, yes.” Throwing up for almost two days straight really does a number on the body.

  “Here, roll over.” He helps guide me onto my side and once there, I feel his hands begin massaging my neck. I moan at the feel of his touch, my muscles screaming with how tight they are.

  “Thank you,” I say, relaxing into the bed.

  “For what?” he asks, moving to my shoulders.

  “For being so nice to me. For helping me.”

  He’s silent for some time before he responds, “I’m not the nice guy here, Kasey. Always remember that.”

  His response eats at me. So vague, but filled with so much unsaid meaning. I want to ask him what he means, but my eyes drift shut and before I’m able to, I fall back to sleep.

  I wake up what seems like hours later. The sun has gone down and I’m alone. I cuss every swear word in the book because now I know I missed my flight. I jump off the bed, grunting at the soreness in my body. I start grabbing for my clothes to stuff in my bag when I notice the tray of drinks and food. I stop to witness a white note on top.

  Drink fluids and eat the bread, it will help. Your new plane ticket is on the dresser. The room has been paid for until tomorrow. You fly out in the morning. Be more careful of what you eat.

  -C

  Say what?

  I turn to look at the documents sitting next to the TV. I make my way over to see a printed boarding pass. He bought me a new plane ticket? I look back over at the tray, to his note which reminds me of his earlier comment.

  I’m not the nice guy, Kasey.

  I beg to differ.

  “Okay you can stop laughing now.”

  “Oh… oh, my God… I can’t.” Amy falls over onto the couch in another fit of laughter.

  I slap her thigh and throw myself against the back of the couch. “Seriously, it’s not funny. I thought I was going to die.” And I did. I swore at one point I was going to throw up or shit out parts of my insides. Amy has gotten a good laugh the last thirty
minutes at my expense as I relive my horrible weekend. And by horrible weekend, I mean, my food poisoning disaster. I fail to mention my run in and wild night with Creed. That’s one thing I plan on keeping to myself for now. Or forever.

  I’m just not ready to admit what I’d done. Even to Amy. I know she won’t judge me, but how can I expect her not to when I am totally judging myself? I slept with my ex’s brother! Something is seriously wrong with me. When did I turn into an evil person, thirsty for the worst revenge to make myself feel better? And you know what? I don’t feel better! I feel worse! Your body feels better than it ever has. Oh, shut up, self! So I don’t feel as absolutely horrible as I should. I mean, what I did was super wrong. I should not have let him lay a hand on me.

  But then I would have never known how it felt to be taken for such a ride. To feel high on sex and lust and… Shut up, self!!!! I grunt, blowing out a heavy breath, trying to stuff, jam, and bury that night in the back of my brain. The problem is, it’s virtually impossible. Because I have never been taken like that. Never have I experienced the intensity that I did with him. My body, it’s as if I was possessed. He took control of every single part of me… and I let him! Embarrassment flushes my face as my cheeks turn colors. Flash after flash of our night, the images that I can’t stop from filling my mind. “Ughhh.” I cover my face, groaning.

  “Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. No need to have a mental breakdown over there.” Amy sits up and grabs for the remote. “So, then what do we do about the job fair? Did you give anyone your resume?”

  The quick memory of the one man who I spent thirty seconds with before I booked it out of there comes to mind. I try and at least remember if I left my resume with him before I almost shat myself, but I can’t recall. “No. Unless the maid took them out of the garbage can and dispersed them amongst the hotel staff.” Amy turns, offering her sympathetic smile, knowing what this means for me. Broke. Jobless. Loser.

  “You know… it’s not too late to request alimony. Something. You need the money. You shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for it. He owes you.”

  I sit up straighter. “No way.”

  “Kasey…”

  “No, I mean it.”

  “Why not?” She throws her hands up in the air. “You should take him to the cleaners and then some. That fuckhead owes you! Why are you being so nice about this?”

  “I’m not being nice.” I did sleep with his brother.

  “Yes, you are. You asked for nothing.” I did get revenge sex. “Kasey! Listen to me—”

  “What!? I am. I told you, I’m not going after Steven’s money. I want nothing to do with him. If I have to flip burgers to make a living, then so be it.”

  Shock, then disgust, covers her face. “Ew, really?”

  “Well no, but I’ll find something. First thing tomorrow, I’m gonna get online and start my search. There has to be something for me.”

  Major key word in my statement, has to be.

  I’M LYING IN BED SNUGGLED under my fluffy down comforter. I’m not really sure why I’m so eager to get a job because being cozied up in bed all day isn’t such a bad thing. I know I said first thing, but since we stayed up way into the morning watching Friends reruns, I feel it’s necessary to spend the first part of the morning sleeping. Job openings will be there after lunch. I flip to my other side when I hear the knocking on the door.

  “Sleeping,” I grumble, pulling the comforter farther over my head. Amy doesn’t hear because she opens my door anyway.

  “Hey, you left your phone on the coffee table, and it’s been going off all morning. And what happened to your screen?”

  I toss the comfy material off my head to view Amy close up, her hand practically in my face. “I fell and it met a marble floor it didn’t like. Why are you up so early?”

  “Because I have to work. Here,” she says, wiggling my phone at me to take it.

  “Just put it on my night stand, I’ll call whoever it is back later,” I mumble and flip onto my other side.

  “Yeah… But I already answered it.”

  “What!?” Flipping back, I gape at Amy, then my phone. Shrugging her shoulders, she mouths sorry and hands me my phone. I look at the caller ID to a number I don’t recognize.

  Shit!

  Why would she answer this? And who in their right mind answers numbers they don’t know nowadays?! I panic, debating on just hanging up, but Amy pushes my hand and I groan, putting it to my ear.

  “Uh, hello?” I ask, feeling annoyed by the telemarketer who just got lucky because my best friend sucks.

  “Hello, is this Kasey Monroe?”

  “No… Ouch!” I pull the phone away to gape at Amy. What the hell? I mouth to her assaulting hand swat.

  “It could be a job calling,” she whispers, urging me to keep talking. This caller being a job offer is about as likely as my ex calling and telling me how sorry he is for being such a deadbeat, cheating asshole. “Talk!” she demands in her low bossy voice, taking another swat at me.

  “Okay! Geez.” I put the phone back to my ear. “Fine, sorry, yes this is Kasey, but it’s Bishop now. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, Ms. Bishop, my name is Virginia Callahan and I’m calling from Roe Inc. Investments.”

  Oh, here we go. This is what happens when you travel anywhere and place your name on any sort of list. They sell your life to the highest bidder and you spend the next three years dodging sales calls. “Well, I’m gonna save you the time, Virginia, but I’m not interested in investing anything.”

  “And unless you are a billion-dollar revenue company looking to sell, we aren’t interested, either. I’m calling in regards to your resume.”

  My resume?

  “My resume?”

  “Yes. Reviewing your credentials, we have an opening at Roe Inc. Investments for an Account Manager. It seems that you would make a great fit and hope we can discuss future employment.”

  Okay. This has to be a joke. I look at Amy, waiting for her to crack a smile and give herself away. This scenario triggers the one time in college when she tricked me, having her boyfriend call me, telling me I’d won the lottery.

  “And where again did you find my resume?” I ask, staring down Amy.

  “The job fair in Atlanta.”

  Okay what? Now this has to be a prank. I handed no one but the garbage can my resume while in Atlanta. Two can play this game.

  “Oh, well that’s great. But I have a really high salary expectation. I’m probably one of a kind, ya know. Need huge benefits. Probably my own office. Oh! And my own coffee maker.” I smile and wiggle my brows at Amy, who’s trying to pretend she’s shocked at my response and not caught.

  “I’m sure we can meet those requests. When can you start?”

  “Oh, well, I have a really busy day of couch lounging, then cereal binging, so probably not till… next week. That work for you, Virginia?”

  I’m beginning to laugh, but Amy is shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything. I have nothing to do with this,” she whispers frantically, but I return her with the ‘suuure, okay’ look.

  “Next week will be fine. Roe Inc. Investments is willing to cover all relocation expenses and housing for the first twelve months. I will just need all your information for lease and moving documents.”

  Wait.

  Who’s moving?

  “Moving? Where am I moving to?” I ask, feeling like this joke is getting stale.

  “To Seattle, Ms. Bishop. Roe Inc. headquarters. Will airfare be needed for the relocation?”

  Airfare?

  Now I’m really looking at Amy. “Is this you?” I whisper, putting my hand over my phone.

  “No! I swear. I told you!”

  I look at her some more.

  Shit.

  She looks like she’s telling the truth.

  But if she’s telling the truth… And this is not a prank call…

  Shit!

  “Virginia? I’m sorry to do this to you, but can we start over?”

&n
bsp; HITTING THE OPEN ROAD REALLY brings your life into perspective. The clear skies, a sign things are looking up. The open road that symbolizes no one’s going to get in my way. The fresh—pop!

  “Shit!”

  My car swirls to the right, as my tire blows.

  Well, so much for nothing getting in my way.

  I make it to the shoulder, just in time to avoid being sideswiped by an out of control trucker who thinks slamming on his horn for a solid minute will help me move out of his way faster.

  It’s times like this I wish I was more like Amy. Stick my hand out the window, offering my middle finger. But I’m me, so I offer a kind wave. This, surprisingly gets me a mystery drink tossed from his window. It smashes onto my windshield and explodes. I don’t pull my hand back to roll up my window fast enough, because I have no game, and a white, sketchy smelling liquid splatters all over my arm and the interior of my car.

  “Oh. My. God. What is that?” I screech, staring at my covered arm, as the liquid in question begins dripping onto my jeans. I look around frantically for something to clean off my arm before it starts burning holes in my skin or I decide to saw my entire arm off. I’m pretty sure he just threw his jizz at me. I begin to gag at the sight of my arm then groan at the blocked view of my clear skies, open road, and missing fresh air.

  What am I really doing? This is crazy! In a matter of five minutes, what I thought was a prank phone call, which turned into being a real phone call, I accepted a job, settled on a salary way more than I was expecting and agreed to move halfway across the state. I barely remember the details, since I was dying of humiliation at how I acted during the first part of the call. Virginia brushed me off and didn’t care for my obsessive apologies. She seemed like a straight to the point woman. Get me hired, packed, and in my new office in a week’s time.

  The company, Roe Inc. Investments, which from the small description Virginia gave, and the large amount of Googling I did, is a pretty successful investment firm. Roe Inc., from what I learned, does a large amount of buying and selling of companies. I was kind of lost on the concept, but Amy tried explaining it to me in terms more my style. She broke it down to my favorite HGTV show, saying it’s like Flip or Flop. Roe Inc. finds companies in need, buys them at a low cost, then rebuilds them to flip to a higher bidder. I mean, if she explained it that way the first time…