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Instantly, I get the sense that there’s more to these words. That they have to do in some way with the picture on her desk — with the man enshrined and immortalized in that frame, but I don’t ask about that. I don’t allow myself to think about it.
But what I do allow myself to think and feel is how much I don’t like it when she diminishes her role and her contribution. “You really did go out of your way for me, though. Repaid kindness or paying forward whatever, all of that aside, you didn’t have to help me the way you did. You didn’t have to become my impromptu stylist, and you didn’t have to say and do all the things you did to pump me up before then.”
Melissa looks like a teenage girl who has just gotten caught picking a rosebush to leave the flowers for her beloved. It’s a “you got me” a “you saw through me” kind of look and posture.
“You didn’t have to do any of that, and yet you did. And it’s because of you that I got the job. That I impressed Ms. Vanacore, after everyone else was so unimpressive,” I say. “Thank you.” I pause, feeling my heart swell with something, something protective and heavy like a blanket. The swelling feeling comes from something I see in her eyes. Some dried-over injury. Some shredded bit of confidence haunting her. “I mean it. If anyone ever tells you that you don’t do much or asks you ‘what did you do? You’re just the secretary’ I want you to know you’re not just the secretary. You do a lot more than just answer phones. You certainly did for me, Melissa. And I want to thank you for that.”
Melissa looks speared through the heart by my words about being “just the secretary” and for a brief moment, I regret saying anything. She looks agonized, but then the agony vanishes, to be replaced by tenderness. “You’re too kind, Tommy,” she says. “All I did was straighten your clothes, help you organize some papers, and let you know you could be dressing a bit better than you are. I didn’t change your fate or fortune,” she says.
“You did, whether you want to accept that or not,” I say, looking over toward the bathroom expecting to see Vanacore at any moment. I flick my eyes back to Melissa, hoping she didn’t notice I was looking elsewhere. I clear my throat. “Anyway. As a way to say thanks, I’d like to pay for your meal.”
Melissa looks shot by a bullet now, not just speared. “Oh, no! No.” She’s smiling, but it’s a nervous, unworthy thing on her face. “No, I couldn’t possibly! You just got your promotion. Don’t waste your money on me, Tommy, I—”
I feel another sensation well out of my chest. Where the other one was protective and warm, this one is commanding and dominating, but in a loving way. Before I have time to think about what I’m doing or saying, I’m rising out of my seat a bit, holding her with my gaze. “You can and will enjoy a meal and a drink on me, Melissa.” What she sees in my eyes, I can’t tell. But I can see she’s not scared by it. Just surprised. “If you’re anything like me, you never get invited out anywhere. Any dinners or weddings that happen around here. So enjoy yourself. Enjoy a meal and a drink on me. It’s the least I can do for the woman who helped me get one step closer to my dream of being my own practicing lawyer,” I say.
Chapter Thirteen
Tommy
At this point, I can hear the bathroom door creaking open. I hear the telltale sign of Ms. Vanacore’s fashionable walking cane clicking along the floor toward us. Briefly, I turn to confirm this. She is.
She is coming toward the table, and she’s spotted Melissa milling around. Immediately, I watch her shoulders go up. Her posture straightens, like an alpha lion walking back into her territory, coming to claim her mate or her kill. I’m not sure which one I am at the moment, or which one I feel like.
“Order whatever you want, and tell the waitress I’m paying for you,” I say to Melissa, watching Ms. Vanacore get closer. I can smell her perfume from here. “Got it?”
Melissa looks reluctant for a moment. Then she sees Ms. Vanacore and decides to acquiesce. “If you insist,” she says. “But if my boss is going to pay for my meal now that he’s promoted, he should expect to be repaid.”
With that, Melissa strolls off. The way she moves, it’s like she knows Ms. Vanacore is watching her but doesn’t feel the need to watch her ass around her. She is confident, and a little prissy or snappy the way she moves.
