Having Fun with Mr. Wrong (18 page)

Sixteen-year-old Carmala had gazed at herself in the mirror, after the worst imaginable thing had occurred. Even to herself, she appeared worn out, older than her years. She still had on her waitress attire—black skirt, white stockings, commercial shoes, and a button-down top. Her job paid the rent, food, and utilities. Anthony worked sporadically and collected social security because of his bad back. He used his money to “take them out.” But that wasn’t very often.

Earlier that day, after work, she met Anthony’s sister at the mall. On rare occasions, she and Michelle smoked a little weed and went shopping, as they did that day. But when Carmala stepped into the apartment after her shopping spree, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Anthony was furious. “Where were you? You know how late it is, Carmala?”

She’d thought he’d be happy to see her. “Well, I…was just having some girl time with your sister. I thought—”

“You thought nothing. Michelle got you high, didn’t she? Did you save any for me?”

Carmala couldn’t believe him. “What? It was just a joint.”

He responded with his foot and kicked her. She was so shocked she fell, and he kicked her again. This time the force of the kick pushed her across the floor.

He continued his assault as she curled up on the floor and covered her face. When he stopped to take a breather, Carmala used the moment to scramble into the bathroom and lock the door. She lifted her shirt and glanced at her side in the mirror. Welts were already forming. Pain scorched her body where his shoe had landed.

She trembled, afraid of what would happen next. She practically tasted the eerie silence and then sensed Anthony’s presence outside the door.

“Honey, come out. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I love you.”

“You were horrible, Anthony.”

“I was just upset. The apprentice job fell through. I’m out of work again.”

She tentatively, very tentatively, opened the door. He had tears in his eyes. Maybe the violence had been a one-time thing. He took her in his arms and repeated his apologies, his promises of never doing “that” again. He kissed her everywhere, unclothed her, gently caressing where he’d hurt her. Then he made love with such an intense passion she never wanted him to stop loving her.

The promises didn’t last long. He was violent again, quite a few times. Finally, weeks later, like a fugitive, she stole into the restaurant lobby on her break and made the call home. Her mom answered.

When Carmala explained what Anthony had done, her mother was expectedly upset. But Carmala found herself defending Anthony and begging her mom not to tell her dad. She should have known better.

Days later, on a day off, Carmala paced the apartment, waiting for Anthony. He was going to take her out with the money he’d earned from his painting job. The phone rang at nine p.m. She expected it to be Anthony, calling drunk after blowing his cash with some friends.

Instead, it was a doctor calling from the hospital. Apparently her boyfriend had been beaten up pretty badly, sustained head injuries, and would have to be kept overnight for observation. She immediately suspected who had arranged the attack. It had to be her father. He no doubt had called his goon friends on Anthony. He deserved the beating, but it wouldn’t change things.

And it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she returned to her family. Without a second thought, she dialed home. Her father answered and told her to pack her essentials as quickly as possible. He’d be there within a half hour.

She never packed, or done anything for that matter, faster. She quickly grabbed the most important things: her best clothes, her records, jewelry, and her books—her precious books—and her GED study materials.

Her dad waited outside. He must have sped down the interstate at break-neck speed. “Quick, get in the car.” He threw her bags in the trunk. “You better be done with him…for good. I mean it, Carmala. We can’t afford any more heartache. We don’t want to ever hear his name again.”

“You got it, Dad.” She searched for a change of subject as they turned on the highway. “You’ll be proud. I’ve been pursuing my education.”

Her father had beamed. “That’s music to my ears, girl. And you’ll get all the support in the world you need from me.”

A creak in the ceiling snapped her back to the present. Carmala peered in the mirror again, the same old bathroom in her parents’ home, where she’d lived through the years of college. At times, she still felt guilty for what she put her parents through. She didn’t know why the hell she got into that situation.

Surely she’d come a long way from those bad memories. Here she was in her old family home with Guido. The reverie into the past begged the question: would he ever turn out to be a disappointment like Anthony? Would he ever try to get her to quit her job after all her education and hard work? Would he hit her when he got into one of his jealous rages?

No, she doubted he’d stoop to such a vile level.

And, really, all the memories were just triggered by her bad dream.

But, sometimes, Guido scared her with his fits of misplaced anger and jealousy. She was tired. She tiptoed to bed and prayed for a peaceful night’s sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

Two days after Timmy left her, Margo forced herself to attend her Monday morning sales meeting. Ten people sat around the oblong conference table: her boss, Dan; eight loan officers; and her assistant, Sandy. Margo was the only one at the table with a personal assistant. Well, because she was the only one who earned the right to have one. The other loan officers didn’t have the production to support the salary of an assistant. Which is why she didn’t think she needed to be there. Still, she had to go through the motions.

The smell of fresh-baked bagels infused her senses. She glanced at the side table and noted the variety of cream cheeses and fruit, but she had no appetite. Frankly, she had no desire to eat since Timmy left, and she must have lost at least five pounds, so far. The so-called divorce diet. A supposed fringe benefit, only it didn’t feel like much of a benefit.

Dan’s monotone voice receded into the background. Margo found it difficult to concentrate as her mind drifted.

When Timmy left on Saturday, she numbly went through the motions for the rest of the weekend. She even took calls for real estate deals, which she rarely did on weekends, in order to keep her mind off what had happened. She still wore her wedding band. It was too soon to contemplate removing it, although she’d have to one day. Just not today.

If she kept busy and didn’t bother Timmy, maybe he’d come around.

Or was she kidding herself?

The thing that bugged her to no end was the chick. She knew right away it had to be Lorraine—she was the one he’d been working with late nights, on his dull project. Who the hell did she think she was? Breaking up a marriage? Margo Googled Lorraine and looked up her Facebook page. She appeared to live a quiet life. Not terribly attractive, and she seemed more interested in Jesus and plants than a social life. What a total hypocrite!

Margo had considered contacting Lorraine and giving her a piece of her mind. But it wasn’t worth her time. If Timmy was gone, he was gone. She had a lot to live for. Even without Timmy.

Dan droned on and on, but she suddenly tuned in. “We still have a lot of mortgage applications coming in, folks. The economy is in a downturn, and housing values are quickly dropping. But that’s okay, because plenty of repeat clients continue to come in for refinancing. Margo, you’re still bringing in a lot of business. Any suggestions for the rest of the group?”

At the sound of her name, she snapped to business mode. “Yes. It’s a great time to market your existing client base. Reach out to your repeat customers, see if they’re interested in a home equity line or refinancing their home to take advantage of the low rates.”

Dan nodded. “Excellent, Margo. Good advice. We could even have our administrative staff assist you in your efforts. We want to keep the momentum going as long as we can.”

One of the loan officers, Jonathan, spoke up. “It’s only a great idea if you have past customers to market to. Since I’m new, I don’t have a big client base.” He took a sip of his coffee and shot Margo a hopeful look.

“That’s okay, Jonathan. Several of you are new to D.C. Mutual. That’s why we’ve decided to roll out an introductory program…”

Blah, blah, blah…Her cue to tune-out again. She
so
wanted to get out of there and retreat to the quiet of her office. Finally, after another hour of sitting through conversations that mostly didn’t apply to her, the meeting adjourned. Margo quickly gathered her papers and attempted to get to her office before anyone could corner her. No such luck. Jonathan, who had a broken leg from a skiing accident, was hot on her trail. Even on crutches, he caught up with her.

“Hey, Margo. I was wondering if I could take you to lunch and pick your brain a little.”

He caught her off guard. “Sure, shoot me an e-mail, and we’ll schedule something next week.”

Jonathan shifted on his crutches. “Actually I have a Realtor presentation by the end of the week, and I was hoping to meet you before then. How about today?”

“Today’s not really good for me.” He seemed so anxious and green. With a pang of guilt, Margo remembered her early days in the business. No one wanted to be bothered with helping her. And now she was doing the same thing to this guy. “I’ll tell you what. I can be available tomorrow, how’s that? I’m a bit behind right now—”

“No problem. That’s fine. Today I’ll concentrate on practicing the PowerPoint presentation for option arms. Would you mind if I borrowed yours?”

She walked down the hall toward her office, waving him to follow. “Of course not. I’ve got it in my office.”

She located the disc which contained the presentation materials and handed it to him.

“You know, Margo, you’ve been an inspiration to me. I can only aspire to produce as much business as you have. You are the queen of mortgages, everyone says it.”

She loved the praise, but she needed peace and quiet. She had work to do. At the same time, she didn’t want to discourage him. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Come by my office at twelve.”

“Sure thing,” he said.

He lingered for a moment while struggling to balance his notepad and his crutches.
Honestly?
She stepped in front of him, practically tripping over his crutches, and stood by the open door, hoping he’d get the message to leave.

Finally, he did. Sandy looked up as Jonathan hobbled by her desk. She inched to the edge of her chair, waiting for him to pass, Margo suspected, so she could get into her office next. Margo aimed to beat her to the punch. She spun on her heel and quickly closed her office door behind her.

Oh, God. All she wanted was to be alone.

She had loan applications to process and clients to call. The only way to avoid thinking of her problems was to put her nose to the grind and sell, sell, sell. She’d cranked out close to sixty applications during the past month alone—a record for this time of year.

Sandy would have to wait. Margo couldn’t deal with anything else right now.

She punched the Do Not Disturb indicator on her phone. And she forwarded her direct line to voicemail. Then she made sure her e-mail was set to send her usual “unavailable” auto-reply message. She lost herself in work for the next few hours.

The only problem was her office walls were paper-thin. She could hear Sandy outside the door. Every day at three, she’d eat that dratted granola bar. Margo glanced at her desk clock. Sure enough, it was three on the dot. Margo cringed as she heard the crinkling of the wrapper right through her walls and then the incessant crunching. She couldn’t concentrate on anything else. What had gotten into her?

She wasn’t usually so easily irritated. An interruption, a loud cough, someone clearing his throat. Everything seemed to bother her. Maybe Timothy’s leaving caused her to lose her mind.

The thing was she’d promised her boss she’d meet with Sandy first thing every morning to go over the day’s work. But she hadn’t today because of the meeting.

It seemed like a half hour passed until Sandy’s annoying munching stopped. Then there was a tentative knock on the door. Oh no. She’d escaped Sandy’s questions most of the day.
Damn.
She owed her the time and would have to give it to her.

“Come in,” Margo said.

Sandy entered, carrying a stack of files overstuffed with paper.

Before Sandy even spoke, Margo stood and braced her hands on her hips. “I don’t have time for this now. Is this an emergency?” The words came out before she could stop herself.

Sandy cringed but unloaded the files in her arms with a distinctive thud on Margo’s circular conference table. “Sorry to bother you, Margo. But if you want these files submitted to the processing center tonight, I need a few minutes of your time.”

The beginnings of a migraine thumped behind Margo’s eyes. She rubbed her temples. She had several major deals to finalize today and more phone appointments tonight. The interruption was damned inconvenient. “Can it wait until our normal morning meeting tomorrow?”

Sandy froze and a willful determination stretched across her face. “No. I’m sorry, Margo. These files must make the interoffice pickup at six. I’m willing to stay past five to get it done. However, I’ll need you to answer a few questions.”

She took a seat and squared her shoulders. The poor girl’s hands trembled.

Margo stood over the table and glanced at the file names. “Did we not go over these same files Friday?” It would figure. The girl couldn’t retain a single thing they went over. Whenever she’d ask Sandy about anything they covered before, she’d needed to look it up in her notes. Fine. But when it came to the latest Hollywood development, Sandy was all over it.

“Some of them are new. The files we already discussed had pricing changes.” Sandy hesitated a moment and separated the stack into two piles. “You’re bringing in so many files now, and I think that’s great, but we don’t want to be sloppy. I want to do a good job for you.”

Margo took the files that Sandy put to the left, recognizing them as applications she’d completed over the weekend. She pushed them to the side and sat down. “Okay, let’s go over these first. They’re all subject to the midday pricing change because interest rates went down. What are your questions?”