CHAPTER TEN
Sam
The next morning, I wake from a dream of Jess and reach for the other side of the bed, only to remember her decision to sleep in her room. Which was probably for the best considering all the things I haven’t figured out how to tell her.
I sag back against the pillows, my heart sinking into my squirming guts.
Reaching for my phone, I shoot Jack a quick text—Hey, you up?
After just a few seconds, he shoots back—It’s six-thirty on a Sunday, of course I’m up. These quarterly reports aren’t going to finish themselves.
Sam: You work too much.
Jack: Said the pot to the kettle. What are you up to this morning? Acquiring another company? Funding experimental energy creation? Writing your first memoir because if you leave the memoir writing until you’re older, the book will be fatter than the Bible and offend those of us who wasted the first twenty-five years of our lives being snot-nosed children and beer-guzzling young adults? Or are you wisely taking a day of rest after bruising your kidney in a daring cat rescue?
Sam: Actually…I’m at Jess’s.
Jack: The Fuck?
Sam: Stop it. You’re worried about nothing. If a conflict of interest arises, I’ll handle it.
Jack: No, I meant “the fuck” as in, was that what you were up to last night? Hence the question mark.
Sam: No. Not that I would kiss and tell, but nothing happened. She just wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I didn’t have any complications after getting run over.
Jack: Nice. It sounds like she cares. I guess that’s a good sign, if you still want to date this woman who you’re offering a job under shady circumstances, and who will likely be pissed when she finds out you’ve been fudging the truth about how involved you are with Paradisus.
Sam: That’s not the only thing I’m still fudging the truth about. I may have let her assume that I’m also a virgin, a second time…
Jack: *wide-eyed emoji* *head-exploding emoji* *weeping emoji*
Sam: Emojis. Great. I was hoping to get some advice before you lost your shit.
Jack: You know my advice. Spill your guts. Immediately. Tell her the truth about everything and let her decide if she still wants anything to do with you. You owe it to her. She shouldn’t accept a job—or your dick—under false assumptions. That’s scoundrel behavior, and I’ve never known you to be a scoundrel.
Sam: With any other woman, I’d agree, but you don’t know Jess. If she finds out I’m the man behind Paradisus, she won’t take the interview. She’ll assume I’m pulling strings because we used to be friends and take herself out of the running. And if I tell her I’m not a virgin, she’ll feel even more awkward about still being one herself. I’m trying to spare her gross feelings and give her a shot at a fantastic job opportunity. That’s the opposite of scoundrel behavior.
Jack: If that’s true, then she needs therapy, not lies. If she has such a poor opinion of herself, that’s something she needs to address with a professional and none of your business.
Sam: Oh, come on. Look at the situation from her point of view. She was treated like shit at her last job, even though she was outperforming everyone else on her team, and she’s no dummy. She knows they would have fired her if she hadn’t quit first. Why would she be feeling confident in her abilities right now?
Jack: I had some shit clients when I was first starting out. That didn’t stop me from going out and finding better clients, who appreciated everything I have to offer.
Sam: You’re also a white dude in a white-dude job with white dudes all around you. You fit in and fit the mold with your work culture. Jess doesn’t. She was the only woman working in design at Brain Chill, and one of the only Asian Americans on the creative team. She was marginalized from the beginning and treated like garbage. Some of the stories she told me last night over dinner made me want to hack every one of those bastards and fill their hard drive with career-destroying viruses. Expecting people to stay upbeat and confident after going through shit like that is heartless, man. Seriously.
Jack: Valid. And I see your point. So maybe—MAYBE—I can see some justification for keeping her in the dark about the true origin of the job offer, at least for a little while. That honestly still doesn’t sit well with me, but I can admit that maybe I’m not in a position to judge what’s best for a potential hire who’s been through the things that Jess has been through. But that doesn’t excuse bedroom secrets. Bedroom secrets are never a good idea. That’s a recipe for betrayal. And personally, I can’t think of anything worse than being betrayed by the first person you sleep with. That’s just going to build a legacy of mistrust and negatively impact her chances of establishing solid connections with other people down the road.
Sam: Not if I never tell her the truth. If I vow to take this secret to the grave.
Jack: Never is a long time to lie to someone you care about. And what if you two end up making it for the long haul? I’m not a big believer in happily ever after, but it does happen. Occasionally. Sounds like it would be just this girl’s luck for her happily ever after to come along in a guy who’s determined to keep a secret from her for their entire lives.
Sam: Fuck. You’re right.
Jack: I usually am.
Sam: Shit, fine. I’ll tell her as soon as she gets home from visiting her family. She’ll be back Monday night. I don’t want to drop a bomb on her now, right before she has to go tell her parents she lost her job. That’s already enough stress for any only child.
Jack: Good. I’m proud of you. And in the meantime, if you want to talk through the wisdom of this shady job offer again over coffee, let me know. Work is hairy this week, but I always have time for a caffeine break with a friend in need.