“How do you know he even sleep naked, silly girl,” I admonish myself.
I shake my head to get rid of the images and spot an opening in the wall behind the bed. There’s a sliding door and I push it to the side. A light comes on as I step through the space, and illuminates a huge clothes closet. If there was anything that was going to entice me to become a man, this closet would do it. Everything is organized and hung in perfect formation. I run my fingers along the lines of suits and crisp shirts. Everything feels like decadence. There’s a bench in the middle of the closet and I sit down, staring at the lines of shoes and ties.
He might have a fashion-conscious man’s wet dream closet, but it seems he and I do not wear the same type of clothing. I get up and open some drawers until I find one full of long sweater hoodies. Ah yes, the famous hoodies. I take one back to the living room with me. Pushing the little button by the kitchen wall, I watch as the blinds come to life and pull away from each other, opening to a dramatic view of New York City. I drop the bathrobe from my body and pull the hoodie over my head. It’s long enough to hide that I’m not wearing underwear, which will have to do, because I draw the line at wearing a strange man’s undies, Prada or not.
My stomach rumbles and I realize it’s been almost a whole day since my last meal. I growl a bit, remembering that the meal I had cooked last night has gone uneaten, but it’s too early for me to gnaw on a pork chop. I pad barefoot to the kitchen and find a bowl and head to the fridge. There’s fruit and yoghurt and orange juice.
He might not give any indication of anything about him, but at least I know he likes to eat and eat well. And that’s enough for me right now.
I fill up my bowl and balance it on one hand as I return to my perch on the couch.
Munching on a berry, I dial, then balance my cell phone on my left ear and shoulder. It’s early still and Harriet’s phone is off, so I leave her a voicemail telling her where I am and ask her to bring me some work from the office.
“They won’t let me up,” She tells me over the phone two hours later.
“Can’t they just ding you up, I told you what number apartment I’m in?”
“No, ‘there will be no dinging without Mr. Ashley’s okay,’ they said.”
“Ooh, his last name is Ashley?”
“Focus”
“Okay, well… I don’t know what to do.”
“Can’t you come down and get the stuff?”
“I’m not wearing pants. Or underwear.
There’s the silence again.
“Fine, just give me a minute.”
I wander over to the kitchen bench where Xavier left his card and number. I pick up the house phone and dial.
“Kaine?” Xavier answers on the first ring.
Kaine… starts with a K.
“No, it’s Jade, the squatter.”
“Yes, Ms. Sinclair, what can I do for you?”
“I need you to get my friend ding’d up so she can come up to the apartment.”
“No. Anything else?”
“Xavier. I need her to bring me some work while I wait for your anti-social stubborn boss to come home so I can say thank you to him. The work will keep me busy so I stop trashing his apartment and going through all his personal belongings. You’d think he’d want that, wouldn’t you?”
There’s silence on the line and then a sigh. “You know… you’re exactly like him. Call him yourself, his number is…”
“Whoa, whoa! Wait!”
I grab a pen from my bag and prepare to jot down the number on my arm.
“Thank you, Xavier. I owe you.”
“You WILL owe me, when I get fired.”
I hang up the phone and dial the number.
It’s not until it starts ringing that I notice the knot in my stomach at the prospect of talking to him.
HIM
I’ve gotten no work done. None.
There are messages on my desk and emails dinging on my phone every few minutes.
But all I can do is watch the figure on the screen.
In my hoodie.
And no underwear.
Even now, sitting here with two of my department heads updating me on the week’s progress, I’m hearing none of the words that are coming out of their mouth. My eyes are fixed to the screen.
She’s talking on the phone right now, and it’s taking everything that I am to not kick them out of my office, so I can turn up the volume and listen to her voice.
“So, we’d love your input on that, Mr. Ashley.”
“Hmmm.”
“Mr. Ashley?”
“What?” I snap, looking up from the screen just in time to see them passing a look between them. Great. More people to add to the list of people I’ve yelled at for no reason today.
“Sorry. I was distracted, what did you say?”
“Er, just that, um, we really need to start hitting hard on the campaign for the launch of FireFree.”
“Yes, of course. I’m just waiting for the numbers back from the marketing department, hopefully get them this afternoon.”
“Okay, great. Anything else you need from us?”
Oh, they’re leaving. Good.
“No. Thanks. See you later.” I get up onto my feet, waiting for them to leave before pressing on the button to close my office door.
They’re barely on the elevator before I reach over and turn up the volume on my computer.
“Thank you, Xavier. I owe you.” I catch her saying.
Xavier? Maybe he’s convinced her to leave after all. The thought leaves me relieved and terrified both at once. She hangs up the phone and then dials another number. Who is she calling now?
There’s a small ring of the phone on Jemima’s desk. She answers it after the first ring as she knows I prefer.
Just then, Jade on screen starts to speak.
“Yes, this is Jade Sinclair, can you please put me through to Mr. Kaine Ashley. It’s urgent.”
Shit. How did she get my name? And my direct number?! Fucking Xavier. I look over and I see Jemima shake her head, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
Then through my computer, I hear Jade again, “Well, please tell Mr. Ashley that I have every intention of doing the same thing over the phone as I am to his apartment.”
Push her back, Jemima, don’t let her through.