Page 29 of Forbidden Fruit
SIXTEEN
DID I DREAM OF MY BOSS?
Surprisingly, for someone who called their boss a dick, then had a weird moment with them, I don’t get fired. Idoget a dismissive text at seven in the morning, but I’ll take it over searching for a new job and home any time.
Boss Man
Take the day off. I’m home today with Anton and Livia.
Urgh, he really is a dick.
I text Jade, hoping I can vent to her over coffee.
me
I’m free today and the boss is being a dick again. Do you have time for coffee this morning? Over at Brioche?
Brioche is this cute cafe just near the pier. All painted terracotta, that serves the most delicious and buttery brioche filled with chocolate and pistachio cream. My mouth salivatesjust thinking about it. And with the headache I woke up with, coffee will do me good.
I get into the shower while I wait for my friend’s response. My thoughts immediately drift back to Lino Marquesi. There’s no way he couldn’t have been a bit nicer. At this point, I have stopped trying to understand this man.
Actually, that’s a lie. He’s a conundrum that I want to pick apart.
I know I only work for him and I’m not owed his kindness, but, I can’t help but wonder why he can’t spare me … something. At least a little decency. I’ve seen him smile. Given, it was only once but it’s there, hidden under all that ice and those barriers he seems to love so much. And he protected me when I needed it. Maybe that’s really what fucked with my head.
My aunt did a great job at trying to kill my self-esteem until I had nothing left and I’d do her bidding, but my mother loved me enough until her last breath to remind me that my worth is already inside myself. I’ve proved to Mr Marquesi over and over again that I’m a good with his children and hard-working. Would it kill him to be nicer?
Am I destined to keep fighting for respect? First my aunt and now him.
When I get out of the shower, Jade has answered my text.
Jade
I’ll meet you there at 10. I need a break from Ritchie too.
Taking the bus, dressed in a maxi lilac dress with stars embroidered on it and wedges that give me a renewed sense of confidence, I join my friend on the terrace of the cafe.
“I ordered you a flat white with oat milk,” Jade says as a greeting while she embraces me. Her eyes are sunken and lacktheir usual shine, her blonde hair wrapped into a tight bun that doesn’t do anything for her.
“What happened to you?” I ask, worry burrowing inside my chest.
She pulls out of our embrace and swats her hand like it’s nothing. “Ritchie being Ritchie,” she says, like it’s answer enough. And it is. I’ve only met the man once, but he did not leave a good impression. Average built, a throat tattoo of a moth and eyes that seemed to be looking under my clothes, his whole persona was flippant and haughty. He barely said a word to me before guiding Jade to her bedroom and fucking her six ways to Sunday. That was during the week I lived at her place. He left with a wink that made me want to puke.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“No need. He’s just being a dick. Speaking of men being dicks, what happened to you with your boss?”
I tell her everything, from the moment we shared at the beach a few weeks ago, to his callousness yesterday. We speak for hours, enjoying the sweet taste of pastries and bitterness of coffee until she has to go home and get ready for her night shift at Lady in White.
It’s one in the afternoon when I get back to my studio at the back of the Marquesi property and I take extra care not to be seen when I cross the garden. I have a free day after all and I’d rather focus on myself than be the target of Mr Marquesi’s irrational temper, but lethargy slowly takes hold of me until the call of my bed is so strong I can’t resist. I didn’t realise taking care of a two children would be so intense, and I must have not had enough sleep these past few months because I fall into a dreamless sleep.
I jump up in my bed, sure that I forgot my alarm and that I’m going to get fired this time. Daylight has faded outside; it’s almost night.
Fuck, I slept all afternoon.
I’m so hungry I feel nauseous. When I swing my legs to the side of the bed to make myself a meal, I wobble on my feet and fall back on my ass. I blink a few times, willing the lingering sleep away, but it’s hard to focus.
Suddenly, a new wave of nausea hits me so hard, I use my weak legs to propel myself out of bed and into the bathroom, throwing up over the toilet bowl with a hurtful wretch. Bile hits the back of my throat and makes me vomit even more at the disgusting taste and sound I make.