Page 64 of Playing the Player

I paste on my customer service smile as I hand the hot drinks out to the men around the room, praying that I got it all right. Each cup I set down on the table comes with a snide comment or demeaning nicknames like sweetheart, honey and darling. I get that it should be endearing, but when it’s paired with a smirk and an eye fuck, it comes off as patronizing and sleazy.

It’s just a reminder that these men can make me feel as uncomfortable as they can and I just have to take it with a smile.

“What the fuck is this?” The entire room falls silent. Mr Vaughn stares into his cup like it’s personally offended him. “This is not what I asked for.” He sneers at me and I cower away, “Larry, what are you paying this useless woman for?”

Larry levels me with a glare. “Sometimes I really don’t know.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr Vaughn.” I tell the balding man with a shirt that looks like it’s about to burst at the buttons from his huge beer belly. “I’ll get you a new one.” I move to take the coffee away from him but, like the child he thinks he is, he pushes it off the table. The plastic lid pops free as the paper cup falls to the floor. A sharp gasp tears from my throat as a white hot burn spreads down my legs and feet. “Ow, shit!”

I stumble backward a step as the hot liquid streams down my bare legs. My hands frantically brush at my skin but it doesn’t help. The heat is clinging to me, leaving a fierce stinging ache that makes my eyes water.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

My shins and feet are already turning an angry shade of red, every inch of them throbbing as if I’ve been set on fire. I suck in a shaky breath, trying to ease the panic that’s clawing its way up my chest.

All eyes are on me in this moment, each one of them amused, finding my pain and humiliation hilarious. At least it gives them something to talk about at their next poker night. I bet Mr Vaughn is very pleased with himself right now and will probably get praise and claps on the back for teaching me a valuable lesson. All because of a stupid fucking coffee order!

“For fucks sake, Susan!” My boss barks, as if this is my fault. “Get someone to clean up your mess.” A few of the men around the table are silent, but the snickering and chuckling from others makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. This is humiliating! Why the hell am I doing this to myself? Is the money really worth it anymore? “Come see me before you leave today.”

Shit.

I hide in the staff shower room for nearly forty minutes. Thank God this place has one. Cold water runs down my legs until the burning eases enough that I can breathe again.

By lunch, they’re still raw. I made a quick trip to the drug store for some burn cream and pain killers. That has helped a little too but there’s a constant throbbing sensation and it feels as though it’s taking over my whole body.

The pharmacist advised me to go to the hospital to get the burns checked out, but I can’t afford the hospital bill, and I definitely can’t afford another lecture from Larry for leaving work.

God, what’s Conor gonna say when he sees this? I have to lie, right? If I told him what really happened, he’d storm this place tomorrow morning and I can kiss this job goodbye. Although, the thought of watching him all riled up, charging into my office to defend my honor, that would be so fucking hot.

I should have gone straight home this morning. Staying here was a mistake. I just want to curl up in bed and cry. Or scream. Or do anything that could get me out of this building. But I know Larry would have had my head on a stick if I didn’t show up at his office after work.

When 5pm finally rolls around, I drag myself into his office. I thought I couldn't get more embarrassed today, but clearly I was wrong. Larry has just finished ripping me a new one. You’d swear he was using a megaphone for how loud he was just screaming. The whole office can hear what’s happening. Hell, I’m sure the whole building can hear it.

“This is your final warning.” My final warning? For what? Being assaulted with a coffee cup?

Apparently embarrassing Larry in front of his clients is a much bigger offence than a grown man deliberately throwing boiling liquid over one of his employees.

“If you embarrass me again,” he says in a low, menacing voice, “I’ll not only have you fired from here, but I’ll make sure you never work in another law firm again.”

Can he do that? Maybe he’s bluffing. I don’t argue though. Instead, I apologize like he expects me to and then leave with my tail between my fried legs. I was the good submissive receptionist that he expects me to be.

The second I get home, I slam the front door shut behind me. My bag hits the floor. My shoes follow.

I barely make it to my bedroom before everything I’d been holding in all day finally shatters. The tears come so fast that they steal my breath.

My parents would be so disappointed in me. They raised me not to take any shit from others, especially toxic, misogynistic men. They raised me to have self-respect and dignity and right now, I have neither of those. Larry was able to strip that down and leave me bare in front of everyone I work with.

The tears keep falling, big wet drops landing on my pillows.

I cry for my younger self, the girl who was so naive and jaded to the world, who thought she could have a dream and it would come true.

I cry for the woman with the same dream, but now knows how cruel the world can be and doesn’t have the confidence to see that dream through.

I cry for me now, the woman who feels so broken. For losing my pride. For losing my home. For losing the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.

For Liam, who needs his big sister when I can barely hold myself together.

I cry for hours, the skin around my eyes feeling red and raw. More tears have spilled down my cheeks this evening than they ever have.