On the Friday before the Sunday I moved in, I tried to not mope around the office. I was going to miss staying at Lafayette's. I was going to miss the park view on the balcony over coffee in the morning with Faye. I was going to miss helping him cook in the kitchen or taking forever to decide what to order in. I was going to miss watching our shows over dinner. I was not going to miss the bed because Lafayette insisted I keep it, which I was thankful for. Most of all, I was going to miss knowing that I was not alone in the home at night. I tried not to think about how anxious I was going to get on my first night alone in the apartment.
Lafayette said he was going to make Saturday a fun day for me to commemorate my last day at his place. I had no idea what this could entail, but I was looking forward to it instead of getting sad. I mean, it's not like I was never going to see him again. I was still going to see him Monday through Friday.
Friday evening, at about six o'clock, Richard called. I was not looking forward to him ruining Lafayette's evening, because my evening would be ruined, too. Nonetheless, I patched Richard through to Lafayette. I sat at my computer, trying not to pout or clench my jaw. I had no idea who he was but I did not like him. This got me curious, so I looked up his name. It wasn't too difficult to find information about him.
Richard Meyers was forty-eight and was an investment banker. Ten years ago he invested some funds into an up and coming business, Lafayette, Inc. He was removed as an investor six years ago, voted on by the board of directors. If he was removed, why was this former investor still calling six years later? Former investor. Former investor...
I let out an audible gasp when the light bulb clicked on. This had to be the man who assaulted Lafayette in the hot tub eight years ago. I had no way of knowing for sure, but it had to be the case. Something in my gut was telling me so.
I decided to do something that I definitely should not do. I picked up the phone as quietly as I could and clicked onto Lafayette's line. Maybe he wasn't aware that I could do this, but I'm sure he never thought I would listen in on a phone call. My heart rate picked up as I listened to what this disgusting man was saying to Lafayette. He was asking invasive questions. He said vile things, either sexual or offensive. Lafayette must have mentioned how he got lunch with his mother, because Richard was talking about her as well. It was when he said "Your mother probably wishes you had died instead of your sister" that I put the phone down and raced into Lafayette's office.
I ran up to Lafayette's desk, catching him off guard, and hit the receiver to end the call.
"What in the hell are you doing?" Lafayette asked.
"He shouldn't be talking to you like that," I said, my voice shaking.
Lafayette's eyes grew wide at the realization. "You were listening to my call? What the fuck is the matter with you?" he asked, his eyes wild. He stood up, yelling, "I hired you because I thought I could trust you!"
I had to ignore his anger. "Why do you take those phone calls from him?" I asked.
"It's none of your fucking business. I-"
"He's the guy from the hot tub, isn't he? I know he is. I know he is! I'm not going to let him talk to you like that," I said.
"Oh you're not, are you? Now you're going to dictate my life?" he asked.
"Well someone has to help you!" I exclaimed, tears welling up. "That's what I was hired for right? I was hired to help you."
"You're not my fucking therapist or my motivational coach. You-"
The phone on my desk was ringing. I ran into the reception area and picked up the phone. "Hello, Mr. Jett's office," I said.
"Put me through to him again. It's Richard."
Lafayette stood in the doorway, staring at me. He looked like he could kill me, but underneath the anger in his green irises I could see the pain.
"No," I said. "Your number will be blocked. You are to never call back here again."
Richard was cussing me out, but I hung up. When the phone rang again, I yanked the entire receiver off of my desk and dropped it to the ground.
Lafayette still stood, shooting daggers. "You are fired, do you understand me?" he said.
"I don't care," I said, walking up to him. I stood close to him, catching him off guard again, and making him step back so he bumped into the door frame. "I don't care. You can fire me all you want. It doesn't matter because I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to let him ever treat you like that again. You don't deserve that." By now, my voice was cracking and my cheeks were wet.
"You don't know what I deserve," he said, turning from me to walk into his office. "You don't know what's best for me or-"
"I don't care," I said, not caring that I was interrupting him. "I don't care, Faye. When I interviewed, Don said it was an unconventional position, that I was basically being hired to be your friend. You denied it, but look at where we are! I care about you and I'm not going to apologize for it and I'm not going to let someone treat you like that. You don't deserve to have someone tell you that you should be dead or that you're worthless because you're not. You are an incredible person worthy of love and respect and-"
"I need you to stop talking," he said, but he didn't sound confident.
"No, I'm not going to. I-"
"I need you to leave."
We talked over each other. He kept telling me to shut up and leave and that I was fired, but I kept telling him that he couldn't push me away. Never in my entire life had I ever talked to someone like the way I was talking to him. A part of me felt ridiculous, immature, and embarrassed, but I knew I couldn't let him shut me out like he had done with his friends. If he shut me out, he was gone.
Eventually, it was silent. He quietly said, "You're fired and if you don't leave I am going to call security to escort you out. You need to get out of my sight."
"I'm not-"
"Get out!" he shouted. He grabbed his cell phone. "I'm calling them now. You can either leave here with some dignity or get out." I didn't want to get escorted out by security, so I surrendered. As I turned, he called my name. "Leave your key."
"How am I going to get my stuff?" I asked.
"It doesn't matter. You're not allowed in my house or my office ever again."
I threw my key onto his desk and stormed out, grabbing only my phone. I ran out of the building as fast as I could, walking down the street. I hugged my arms. My jacket was in the office. The tears continued falling and my lips contorted downward. New Yorkers were known for minding their business. So as I walked down the street, silently crying, they didn't pay me any mind, even if they looked right at me.
At first, I considered going to Alicia's. She was my sister, after all. Our twin telepathy may have even been letting her subconscious know I was struggling. However, if I went to her place, she'd ask me what was wrong. There was so much I couldn't tell her. I could lie and say I didn't want to be alone and that's why I would need a place to stay, but I wasn't a good liar. She'd know something was up and then she'd discover that I've been living at my boss's home. I couldn't let that happen.
I went to the club I usually performed at, wiping my tears away before entering. I wasn't in drag and I was wearing my button down and slacks so I looked a little too professional. I pushed my sleeves up and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons so some chest was showing. I ended up going behind the stage to distract myself by talking with some of the queens I knew. It didn't take long until one passed me her flask. I borrowed makeup from another one and smeared some shiny brown eyeshadow over my eyelids, followed by a bit of mascara, to help make me look like I didn't just get off work. A joint was passed my way and then a round of shots. The hours ran by as I drank and smoked whatever was handed to me.
I went to a dance club across the street with some of the people I kind of knew. That's when I saw a guy I met on Grindr last year and went into the bathroom with him. We made out in a bathroom stall for a few, before my hands got greedy and I started undoing his pants. I got on my knees and performed oral on him. I was doing whatever I could to distract myself from Lafayette, but when the guy kissed me again I thought of Lafayette. I couldn't help myself. I had to turn away from him, let him take me from behind so I could close my eyes, squeezing the tears back in. He kept whispering things in my ear, but everything he said was drowned out by the memory of Lafayette yelling at me. I couldn't help it.
When we were done, we left the bathroom separately. I didn't see anyone I came with on the dance floor anymore, but that didn't matter. I hopped on the dance floor again, my head spinning, my body spinning. I didn't care. I couldn't leave. I had to stay there forever. I wouldn't move out and I wouldn't move in. I wouldn't be fired and I would never have to go back to the office again. I would just be here, vision blurred, dancing the time away.
"Emerson?"
I turned around, almost falling, but a large and familiar hand steadied me. "Owen," I said.
Owen, my ex-boyfriend from a few years ago, was staring at me. "You seem to be very drunk," he said, smiling. His shiny white teeth contrasted against the dark club.
"Yes," I said. "I just want to stay like this forever." I swayed back and forth, closing my eyes, which only made me more unsteady.
"Easy now," he said, grabbing me. "You actually seem very drunk. Do you want me to take you home?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. I put my head in my hands. "No, no, no."
"Hey, it's alright, come on." Owen put his strong arm around me. He grabbed a cup of water from the bar and then took me outside. He leaned against a wall in the alleyway where it was quieter. "Drink some water."
I did as he said, chugging the whole thing. I crushed the cup and dropped it.
"Em, what's going on? Do you need me to call Alicia?" he asked.
"No," I said. "No way."
"Okay. I can take you to your apartment then, alright?"
I threw my arms up. "I don't have an apartment anymore," I said.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
I recited Lafayette's address perfectly.
"Jesus, that's a little far. I can order an Uber, okay?" He pulled out his phone and stood next to me, putting in the address.
"What if I just go home with you?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.
"Em, come on," he said. "You know that's probably not best." He put his arm around my waist to support me. "Last time we did that..."
"You said I was getting clingy," I said.
"I did, and I'm sorry for that. It's not your fault. I was kind of leading you on," he said.
"You were. You wanted all the benefits of a relationship without having any sense of commitment. That's douchey," I said.
Owen laughed. "It was douchey," he said.
"But it's okay," I said, my eyes closed. "I should've communicated my needs more, as my therapist used to say."
He squeezed me close. "Are you doing okay, otherwise?" he asked.
"I was, up until today," I said.
"I saw you got a promotion," he said, and this is what set me off. Suddenly, I was crying. I held my head in my hands, letting out the sobs. I was fired. I was jobless. Lafayette hated me. I betrayed his trust. I wouldn't be there for him anymore. I overstepped.
"It's okay, Em," Owen said, engulfing me in his arms. He rubbed my back as I kept sobbing. "The Uber is here. We'll get you home soon, alright?" My ex-boyfriend led me to the car, putting me in the back seat, apologizing to the driver for my emotional state. "It's alright, Em. Is anyone at home that you need to text?"
This made me cry harder. What were we doing? I couldn't go back to Lafayette's, but I wanted my stuff. I wanted my phone charger. I wanted my stuffed horse named Horsey. I wanted to sleep in the bed. I wanted to tell Lafayette how sorry I was. I wanted to throw up. "I'm sorry for crying so much," I said.
"It's okay. You're intoxicated. Seems like it was an emotional day," Owen said.
"Are you two good back there?" the driver asked, looking at me mostly.
"Yes," I said. "Just a bad day."
"I'll try to be in touch a bit more, okay?" Owen said. "Seems like you could use a friend. I could use more friends, too, so if you need someone to talk to some time."
I nodded, wiping my cheeks. I felt like I was going to get sick, but I couldn't do that in the driver's car.
We pulled up to Lafayette's house. I miraculously put in the correct code for the gate and Owen helped me up the stairs to the front door. He knocked on the door. I immediately wanted to run away, but I was so tired I felt like my legs were going to collapse. Owen knocked again.
A few minutes later, I was greeted at the door not by Lafayette, but by a shirtless red-headed twink.