Chapter Six
Molly sat on her fire escape, wrapped up in a navy throw that she’d pulled off from the living room couch. Kensington market was in full swing below, as was normal. It didn’t matter if it was Monday, Wednesday, or the weekend, the narrow streets of the Market were always filled with people, and the air was always chock full of smells of smoked meat, curries, frying veggies and spice. The chilly fall wind swept through her air, as she guiltily opened the packet of Belmonts that she’d pulled out from her secret stash. She’d been trying to quit for the past year. It was a bad habit, one that she’d gotten into during the stress of university, and one that she was having a hard time leaving.
“Molly…” Liv drawled out from behind her, the metal grates of the fire escape creaking as she crawled through the window to join her cousin. “What’s that in your hand?”
“I’m stressed,” she meeped as she lit the lighter and held the end of the cigarette to the flame. “I haven’t smoked at all this month.”
“This is the only one you’re allowed,” her cousin said sternly, before holding out a hand. “Can I have one too?”
Molly raised an eyebrow before taking a drag, the smoke comforting her and settling her rattling nerves. “Talk about hypocrisy.”
“Maybe it’ll convince you to quit. Every time you smoke, I’ll smoke – so technically you’re responsible for giving cancer to the both of us.”
Molly rolled her eyes and gave a cigarette to her cousin, and as Liv lit up, Molly relayed the meeting she had with William Harding. As she continued to speak, Liv’s eyes got wider and wider, until finally she cut Molly off.
“Shut the fuck up,” Liv shouted, to which someone on the street responded, “No, YOU shut fuck up!” The two ignored the angry- (and probably drunk-) sounding male. “You’re pulling my leg?”
“No.” Molly leaned her back against the brick, and looked at the Toronto sky. She could never see the stars out here because of the incessant light pollution. The blackness that looked down at her echoed the bleakness she felt awaited her in the future. “I don’t know why I agreed to it. I could just hear myself talking, and then I could see myself texting, and then the next thing I knew, I’d agreed to it.”
“Have you sent the signed contract?”
“It’s sitting in my e-mail. I haven’t pressed send.”
“When would you start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Shit.”
“I know,” Molly groaned, before putting the cigarette out in the empty planter she’d snuck out here for moments like this. “A part of me is saying this has already crossed so many ethical boundaries, and anybody with any common sense would tell me this is crazy.”
“But you want to do it,” Liv finished off.
Molly bit her bottom lift, feeling perturbed. “I just feel like to get anywhere in life, you need to do crazy shit.”
“Sounds like an R-rated hallmark card.”
“Isn’t that true, though?” Molly let out a big sigh. “When have you ever heard of anyone getting anywhere in life without taking risks? I’ve literally been handed a massive opportunity on a silver platter.”
“If he’s serious about mentoring you,” Liv added, her blue eyes earnestly watching her seriously, which was rare for Olivia to do. “Men in power rarely care about the insignificant ones.”
Molly was aware of this fact. Life growing up in the foster care system had been kind enough to slap that into her at a young age. “And he knows that he’s got the power in this situation,” she said, grumpily. The image of William Harding flashed before her eyes and she a shiver ran through her body. Six feet of toned muscled, always dressed in a pressed, and impeccably fitted suit. That irritating and permanent playfulness in his eyes drove her insane; it seemed he was simply walking through life as if it were a game, and everyone around him chess players to be moved. She had noticed the scent of cologne that her drifted her way during their brief encounter: woody, earthy, and expensive. Mr. William Harding was indeed powerful – in every way contemporary men in the world aspired to me.
She couldn’t be more out of her element.
Which is why she felt drawn to the challenge. Working in consulting and sticking up for the small players against the heavyweights was why she’d gotten into political science to begin with. If she backed out now, what would that say about her? She wasn’t sure she could live with it.
“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” Liv asked, knowing her cousin all too well. “And you call me the crazy one in the family.”
Molly brushed off the cold and stood up to send that contract. “I think crazy runs in the family.”
x.x
It had been a group effort. Molly texted her two closest friends, Caroline and Ankira, and told them to be at her apartment at 7AM sharp, with a list of things she needed help with. They were both late, but came bustling into the apartment with coffee, bagels, hair products and the office attire that she had pleaded for. None of what she had would work. She’d seen the corporate offices, the gleaming tiles and immaculate post-modern décor. Her entire wardrobe was paltry librarian at best. Her friends had come through, as she knew they would. It was the one, if only, positive of being driven out of your family. Friends inevitably took that spot, whether you wanted them to or not. The four of them (Molly, Liv, Caroline, and Ankira) were a tight little wolf pack, vying to protect each other’s back no matter what.
“Ow,” Moll chirped as Ankira pulled on her hair, straightening it out so that they could tie it into a slick pony-tail. “Can you not pull so hard?”
Anikira clicked her tongue, “You’re disrupting my zen, shut up.”
Caroline held up a loose block print dress, cuffed at knee-length. “How about this? I think it screams ‘This is casually my first day at work?’”
“Too casual,” Liv said from her spot on the couch, where she was eating oatmeal and watching the makeover take place. “I’d wear that to my first day at a tech firm, but not a consulting firm. Need something sluttier.”
“Why sluttier?” Molly asked from her seat at the kitchen table. “That looks fine to me. Liv, would you be able to walk Pluto today? I don’t think Albert woke up to his alarm today, his windows are still shut.”
Liv frowned, “Ugh. That dog.”
“Liv is right,” Ankira added, “the consulting firm will be filled with blonde bimbos, no insult to my fellow sex. We women have created insufferable competition against one another, that we ourselves detest.”
“Hmm,” Caroline delved back into the suitcase she’d brought over. “What about this?” This time she was holding up an entirely black dress, elbow length and to the knees. It was more fitting, and with the crew neck, more professional. “This one says I’m here to work, but I’d be down to have sex – but only if you’re smarter than me, which you probably aren’t.”
“Yes,” Ankira nodded seriously, “that’s the one. With Liv’s leather boots, the one with the heels.”
Molly balked, “That’s overkill.”
“Anki’s right,” Liv got off the couch and went to her dresser. “How tall is this Harding asshole? Six feet? Six feet two? You don’t want him to look down at you.”
Molly breathed out nervously, starting to feel more nervous as the clock ticked closer to 8:30. She still couldn’t believe she was doing this, still in disbelief that her life had taken such a drastic U-Turn. She had signed the contract and sent it over this morning. Anytime she thought of the consequences of her decision, she felt her fingers began to tremble. So the best way to approach this was to not think about it at all.
“You look white as a ghost,” Ankira commented, stepping back to look at her, “Guys, look at her. She’s going to faint.”
“I’m not going to faint,” Molly took a shaky breath, trying to steel her nerves, “Ok – maybe I’m going to faint. I need to smoke.”
All three of them shouted her disapproval, and Ankira smacked her on the head. “No smoking. Maybe a shot of vodka.”
“Here’s some rum,” Liv brought over the shot so fast that Molly wondered if she’d already opened it prior to her comment. “It’ll make you feel numb inside, which will help.”
Caroline was watching her caringly as she changed clothes, and added: “remember, he needs you, not the other way around.”
“Well, she technically needs this job,” Liv interrupted, before back-tracking after a glare from Caroline, “but not as much as he needs you to convince his family he isn’t an anti-social, emotionally unavailable piece of shit.”
“Agreed, remember that,” Anika fastened her hair in a gold metal clip, and then helped her pull down the black dress. “If he gives you any trouble, you give him trouble right back.”
“And he wanted you because you have trouble keeping your mouth shut. Don’t forget that,” Caroline’s blue eyes crinkled kindly as she helped smooth over the dress. “There, perfect. If I saw you walking down the street, I’d be scared of you.”
“In a good way,” Liv added, “like – I’d doubt my own sexuality kind of way.”
Ankira rolled her eyes. “You look great, Molly.”
Molly let out a shaky breath, and stood up in the heeled leather boots, glancing at herself in the mirror once she put on her gold-rimmed spectacles. She barely recognized herself, which was probably for the best, because normal-Molly would never get herself into these situations in the first place. They’d transformed her, made her look less soft, her make-up fooling the onlooker into thinking she wasn’t as doe-eyed as she felt inside. Her straightened hair fell smoothly down her back, the boots made her look taller, and the subtle ways the dress tucked in against her curves made her feel a tad bit more confident.
“God,” she muttered and then looked away, “I hope this isn’t a mistake,”
“It’s not,” all three said in perfect unison, sternly. Molly looked at her tough-looking friends and smiled. All three of them had been through hell and back, and all three of them knew what it took to survive the unforgiving world they’d been brought up in. That’s why Molly loved and trusted them completely.
“You gotta fight for what you deserve, Molls. Even if it means putting up a ridiculous charade… as… his fiancé,” Caroline seemed to struggle with to this idea, but ended her sentence firmly. “Ok, now keep us posted on the group chat.”
She loved these girls so much. “Ok, make sure to walk Pluto, Liv.”
“I will, I will.”
“And check up on Albert. He’s usually awake -.”
“Go.”
Molly forced herself to turn around and walked out of her apartment, barely getting her coat up over her sleeves as she walked out of the door. Bundled up in a scarf, she hurried down the creaky stairs, and onto busy Kensington St, where the crisp fall air filled her veins with adrenaline. The stalls and restaurants serving breakfast were already getting started as she scurried down the block to catch the street-car, and the familiar smells of the bakery and fruit market comforted her a ton.
As she maneuvered the transit system to get to WTL headquarters, she couldn’t help but feel that she was walking through a kind of twilight zone, where everything felt normal and different at the same time.
Her trepidation rose the closer she got to the building, and by the time that reached the glass doors of WTL, her nervousness in different parts of her body had amalgamated into a stomach ache. The doors slid open in front of her, the lobby greeting her coldly and uninvitingly, just as it had last time.
You want this job, she reminded herself as her heels tapped on the clear, marble floor. This is a good stepping stone. Four receptionists were stationed behind a marble plinth to greet the constant traffic in the building. Molly glanced at her watch. 8.51AM. It was show time.
“How can I help you?” It was the same receptionist as last time, and from the way she looked at her, it was clear that she didn’t remember Molly at all.
“Hi, I’m meant to meet Mr. Harding at 9.”
“Alright, I just need you to sign… wait,” she looked up quizzically from her computer, “who did you say?”
“Mr. Harding,” she said it more confidently this time, straightening her back to appear more sure – which she wasn’t.
“One moment, please,” she replied slowly, not bothering to hide her confusion. She picked up the phone and dialed a number, looking at Molly again – this time more quizzically. “Hey, Joanne? We have someone here to meet Mr. Harding…” she trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing. “Ok, good to know. I’ll sign her in.” She put down the phone and cleared her throat, “alright, no need to sign it. I’ll escort you to his office.”
Molly tried not to make much of the exchange, and politely followed behind her, taking in as much as she could on the way. The ceilings were high, held up with glass walls, which were crawling with vines and greenery. A fake waterfall cascaded down the walls of one hallway, lit by pot lights and decorated with ceramics. They walked around to another set of elevators, which she needed a security pass to activate. The woman walked her into the lift, scanned her keycard, and pressed the button for Floor 61.
The two of them stood in silence. Molly didn’t mind; she wasn’t sure she could speak much anyway.
When the door opened on the sixty-first floor, Molly took a deep breath and followed the woman out. The penthouse suite of the building was as sleek as it was sophisticated. A large, expansive lobby greeted her at the elevators. Directly opposite her, windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling, overlooking the Toronto Harborfront and the edge of Lake Ontario. An executive assistant – who looked extremely stressed – was working behind a large concrete desk. “Here she is,” the woman said to the EA who looked up sharply at her.
“Straight through into the last room on the right,” the asssitant pointed towards a hallway to her left. “He’s expecting you,” she said before burying her face back onto the desktop screens.
“Thanks,” Molly nodded curtly, steeling herself for the encounter ahead of her. Without another word, she followed the directions down the hallway.
Ankira, Caroline and Liv’s pep talks were running through her head as she reached a large oak door, with a silver plate that simply read ‘William Harding, Chief Executive Officer.’
She knocked once, and before she could even prepare herself, she heard his voice.
“Come in.”
She pushed the door open and walked into William Harding’s office. At the sight of him, the familiar rush ran through her, making the hair at the bottom of her neck stand straight.
He was wearing a dark navy suit, a grey tie resting on top of a cream button-up shirt. Cufflinks glinted at the wrist of his shirt, catching the sunlight as he leaned back in his chair. He was wearing leather dress shoes, tied shut with brown laces. He seemed to have permanent four-o-clock shadow, the dark scruff matching his dark hair. At the sight of her, the amused glint shimmered in his eyes.
She walked in, suddenly very aware of how the dress clenched at her waist and followed the curves of her breast. There was something in his presence that made her very cognizant of where his body ended and where hers started. It was probably a biological reaction; the way an animal responded to the sight of danger.
“Mr. Harding,” she said. Her voice came out strong; confident. It took everything she had inside of her to make herself appear that way.
“Ms. May.” His eyes didn’t leave her face, so why did she feel that he was taking all of her in? “Welcome to your first day.”