Chapter Four
Molly didn’t have much time to mull it over or debrief it with Olivia. Burying the feeling of regret in the pit of her stomach and hoping they wouldn’t resurface until much later she took the hour to shower, drink a litre of water to counter her hangover, and then got ready for her shift at the library. Pairing a loose dress with a pair of sheer stockings, she bundled herself in her favorite Fall scarf before heading outside.
She had only just stepped onto the street when she heard the daily barking she always did from across the street. She paused and looked up to see Pluto, a black mutt peering down at the street from a second story window, barking as it always did at this time in the morning.
Standing there torn, she contemplated what to do. She did not have time for this today.
Transfixed in the middle of China Town, she started walking again before sighing and turning around. Damn it!
Five minutes later, she was knocking on Mr. Lush’s door and when he didn’t respond, she opened it slowly. “Albert?”
Pluto swerved around the couch and bounded on her excitedly, his big paws scrambling up to land on her belly. His snout sniffed her face and after confirming it was indeed Molly, the black pup greeted her with a big lick. She laughed as she tried to get the excited pooch to scramble off of her, and then when he was back on his four paws, she gave him a good belly rub. “Albert?” she called out again, and this time the call was returned by a creak in the living room.
“Yes, hello?”
She walked in to see her 97-year-old neighbour, watching the telly from his rocking chair. He lived here alone, with no remaining relatives to check up on him. Not able to afford senior-friendly housing, the street had taken it upon themselves to make rounds to make sure he was okay. “How are you doing?”
“Yes, yes,” he nodded and licked his lips, “I had my breakfast.”
“Okay, awesome. What did you have?”
“What was that?”
“Did you have cereal?”
He peered up at her quizzically, “Did I do what?”
Molly looked over to the kitchen to see no dishes had been touched, and no food had been taken out of the fridge. “Let me make you breakfast.”
“Ok,” he nodded and then went back to watching the telly.
Molly quickly whizzed around the kitchen and pulled together a small bowl of oatmeal with a cup of tea and placed it on a tray that she brought to his seat. Stubborn as a nail, he refused to see any doctors, saying that his old age had afforded him the freedom from quote ‘sanitized prisons.’ He kept telling everyone he wanted to spend the rest of his days enjoying all the daytime TV he had missed while working a day job at the Redman sugar factory. For that reason, they couldn’t confirm if he was simply forgetful due to his old age or developing dementia. Either way, he was sweet as a plum, and ever since he had helped Molly pay for a utility bill that she couldn’t afford two years ago, she’d joined the neighborhood Albert watch. Whenever they could, someone popped by to check on him.
She sat next to him, briefly glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. She had texted her boss to tell him she’d be half an hour late, due to rush-hour traffic. “Promise me you’ll eat this oatmeal?”
“I don’t like berries.”
She put the spoon in his hand. “I got the maple syrup kind.”
“It’s not good for my diabetes.”
“You don’t have diabetes, Albert. I promise you’ll like it.”
“Fine,” he waved her away and then slowly ate a spoon of the oatmeal. He crinkled his furry white eyebrows in a frown. “Happy?”
“Yes!” She grinned, “Ok – I’m gonna take Pluto for a walk ok?”
“Yes, that would be good for him. Thank you.”
Molly stretched her legs and then got Pluto’s leash, not knowing why she voluntarily did stuff like this. It only made her life more complicated. Nonetheless, she went down the stairs with the dog and took him for a walk up and down China Town. The street was in full bloom, with all the street vendors set up on the sidewalks selling fresh fruit, vegetables and bonsai plants. The breakfast dumpling place was already open, and her stomach clenched in hunger at the smell. The 75-pound dog next to her needed swift, prompt exercise and she had to get to work so there was no time for stopping.
After a twenty-minute walk, doggy-poop-break, and fetch game, Molly called an Uber to race to work. Thankfully, her boss Dorothy was a laid back, fifty-four-year-old woman, who gave zero shits about anything except keeping the library organised. So long as you showed up, completed your work, and made up any hours missed, she was happy.
“Hey Molls,” Eliza said from behind the front desk, “did you have to stop at Albert’s again?”
“Yeah, sorry. Did I miss much?”
“Someone just paid a fifty-cent library fine,” she popped the gum that she was chewing, “Aside from that, no.”
Molly clocked in, said hello to Dorothy in the back, and went straight to shelving the backlog of returned books. There was a puppet show going on in the back room, followed by a reading of Roald Dahl later on for a group of fifth graders.
Her head was feeling light, and she felt a bit woozy from the excessive amount of water she’d chugged this morning having eaten no food to balance it out. It was only ten in the morning, but she was craving her lunch break already.
The hangover sweats were kicking in, but she carried on shelving, scanning and reorganizing. Her mind had effectively blocked out the memories of the interview, but it was an ongoing practice. It required active “mindfulness” (a term their guidance counselor had taught them in high school), to pretend nothing about yesterday had actually happened.
It was an hour later when her shelving was finally finished, and she re-joined Eliza at the front desk. The kids were starting to pour in, their bubble energy the antithesis of how she felt right now.
Her phone buzzed and she looked at it dully, feeling like hell anthropomorphized.
Ah, fuck.
Ms. May,
I appreciate your honest reply.
I’ll be there lest you change your mind.
Sincerely,
W.
“Who dat?” Eliza was staring at her, looking very bored. “Your face turned red.”
“Nothing special,” she muttered, and shoved her phone back in her pocket.
x.x
It was eight-thirty and she was sitting in her room, chewing on her nails. She didn’t know what to do.
His response had haunted her the entire day, like a case of Chlamydia. As much as you wanted to ignore that it was there, it was very obviously there. Every time you went to the bathroom, sat down, stood up, did bum fuck anything.
She was burrowed under her blanket, staring at Liv who was re-reading the emails for the twentieth time.
“You have to go,” she repeated, again. Her eyes bugged. “This is William Harding asking you to join him at the flipping Fairmont. Water there is ten dollars a pop.”
Molly groaned, burying herself under her hands. “We can save up and take ourselves there, Liv.”
“You are meeting him. That’s not a question.”
“Why are you forgetting everything that happened yesterday?” Molly exclaimed, “this man totally humiliated me.”
“And you humiliated him right back. Didn’t you say his wily charms, or something won’t work on you? And that he was a pompous ass?”
She groaned again. “I don’t know! I can’t remember it. It feels like a bad acid trip.”
“Listen,” she leaned forward. “This guy may be a piece of shit, but he’s important. And right now, he’s asking you to meet him for drinks. And when an important but shitty person in your field of interest asks you to meet them, you meet them – whether you hate them or not.”
She bit her lip, “what happened to having standards?”
“He’s not asking you to do a strip tease, Molly – he’s asking you to meet up. Maybe he wants to apologise.”
She had a strong feeling that an apology wasn’t what Mr. Harding had in mind.
“The moment he pisses you off, just leave.”
That was true. She had agency in all of this after all. If the conversation went sour, she could always just get up and go. With that in mind, she took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll go.”
x.x
The Fairmont was an iconic piece of architecture smack in the middle of downtown Toronto. It was the first thing you saw when you exited Union Station, its red flags fluttering in the wind atop tall steel posts. The Fairmont’s warm lights glimmered from behind old brick, the structure looking very much like a 16th century gothic palace more than a modern-day hotel. One night ran for a thousand dollars, so you never ventured inside unless you had reason (or money) to. Valet’s guided fancy Audis and limousines into a private underground garage, the lights from the CN tower faintly casting shade on the cobbled streets in front of it.
She showed up wearing deconstructed denim capris, with a black blouse and leather jacket. Liv had offered her another one of her fancy cocktail dresses, but she decided to go with her own attire. She was not going to dress up for this guy.
She entered the Fairmont and tried not to look dazzled by the ignominiously large chandelier or red carpet, and instead peered around to see signs for the bar.
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…
Her stomach was eerily settled.
Her chest was pounding though.
She stopped at the entrance and one quick glance around the room confirmed that she was way underdressed – as she suspected. Everyone seemed to be wearing a suit, or a dress, that was either black or white.
She stood out like a sore thumb.
“Can I help you miss?” The waitress looked at her with the same smile the receptionist had greeted her with at WTA consulting. Did they all get together and practice smiling together?
“I’m here to meet Mr. Harding.”
“Oh,” the words slipped out of her mouth, as if without thinking. “Really? I mean,” she cleared her throat, and tried to hide the once-over she immediately gave her, “Right. Okay, right this way.”
Molly hid her eye roll and followed her through the immaculately pristine, fancy and glittery bar.
She saw him before he saw her, sitting at the back of the bar in a mahogany leathered seat. He was in a different suit but had taken off his blazer this time. His crisp white fitted shirt was tucked into the waist of his pants, and his focus was directly on his phone. His hair was more ruffled this time, as if he’d run his hand through his hair a few too many times. She took a deep breath as she saw him. The wolf.
Whatever, she straightened her spine. She had teeth of her own.
He looked up at she approached and gave her a small smile. It sent shivers down her back. “Ms. May.”
“Mr. Harding,” she responded and sat down across from him, putting on her most confident front. Her palms were sweating. It felt as if everyone was looking at them in the bar, and she tried her hardest to keep her focus on him entirely. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
He put his phone down and rested his elbows on the table, “Not at all. I’m glad you changed your mind.”
She wished she had something to still that hammering heart of hers. The dim lighting in the bar seemed to cast ghoulish shadows over them, and she felt that she was in a den of sorts. She could sense the power he had here, that he was in his comfort zone. “Apologies for missing the dress code.”
He cocked his head to the side and gave her an unabashed onceover, “always liked some leather on a woman.”
She blushed.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the waiter strolled by, so elegantly that it looked like he was floating. “What can I start you off with? A red, perhaps? Chardonnay?”
Molly blanched, “Do you have beer?”
The waiter blinked at her, “I’m sorry?”
“Like a Steamwhistle or an Ace Hill?”
There was a momentary pause as the waiter appeared to flounder. Eventually, “Yes, uh. We do. I’m sure we can get one for you. If we don’t, we can certainly fetch one from the beer lounge across the street. And you, sir? Wine, champagne -.”
“Beer for me as well.” He had that amused glint in his eye again, as if the situation was somehow entertaining for him.
The waiter nodded and scurried off, somewhat frantically, as if no one had ever ordered a beer in this establishment before.
Silence ensued in his departure, and Molly sat there, not wanting to break it. Heads that had turned to watch this girl in jeans and a top sit across from one of the richest men in North America were still looking on, although some were turning back to their own conversation.
William seemed unfazed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you the job,” his eye twinkled, the playful glint contrasting the foreboding scruff of his jawline. “I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“None at all,” she gave him a smile. Why did it feel like they were already warring? The conversation hadn’t even started.
“I’m sure you’re curious as to why I invited you here.”
“You could say that. We didn’t exactly leave things on a positive note.”
“On the contrary,” he leaned forward, and she felt her breath hitch. “I found our conversation quite refreshing.”
“Really, now.” She tried to end her sentence in the same matter-of-fact way that he did.
His grey eyes drilled into hers, “really.” He pulled out a neatly clipped stack of papers and pushed it across the table. “I won’t beat around the bush. I think we can help each other out, if you’re willing. I’ve laid out terms of a contract that you can take home and read and amend if you wish. I’m sure you’ll find it incredibly fair to both parties involved.”
She raised an eyebrow and didn’t break the eye contact. “And why should I even entertain whatever proposal you’ve made up? I’m not really your biggest fan.”
“Because you need me if you want to break into this industry. Face it, it’s near impossible to get into a good consulting firm that’s working on humanitarian aid or engineering. It’ll take you years to get even a starting position at a firm like mine. The person who got the position you applied for had worked four internships and spent a year in Kenya before he even managed to get a foot in the door. Your grades helped you get an interview but your lack of experience will get you nowhere. There are too many people, and not enough jobs.” He stopped as the waiter came back and placed two beers on the table in front of them. After taking one slow slip from his frothy mug, William continued. “So. What I’m offering is a deal. I’ll allow you to pursue an internship at WTA, with me as your mentor. You’ll job-shadow me, learn from all of my cases, and come to meetings that I have with clients. You’ll do all my grunt-work, obviously as well, that’s inescapable – running errands, getting coffee etcetera. But you’ll have an opportunity to learn, and you know that’s invaluable.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Cut the bullshit, what do you want in return?”
He leaned back in his chair. “My family has been on my case for a while. Saying I’m too invested in work, don’t have a work-life balance, and all that jazz. At first it was harmless, but now they’ve taken an active interest in interfering with my life because they think I need help in this department. So I need you to help me out to get them off my back,” he nodded towards the contract and she looked down at the terms, “it’s all in there.”
She read the first few lines, her incredulity growing with every word. “Fuck off.”
“It would only be for four months.”
Molly narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth dropping open. “You want me to pretend to be your fiancé?”