Quiet As Kept

'What am I going to tell him?' I kept thinking to myself, the very fact that this money was mine and he had not the clue? Sinking into my seat at work, my desk seemed like it was closing in on me. The walls were nonexistent, I mean really, I had a cubicle for walls and even those seemed to be wrapping their way around my neck. That's exactly what he was going to do if I didn't come up with a way to circumvent a conversation with him...telling him I didn't win the money or that he had nothing to do with it. Yea, that's what I'll do, tell him the call was placed by accident - random, like a butt dial.

A butt dial...I hadn't "butt dialed" him in 10 years! But my ass was feeling itchy three days ago? Leave it to me to have the same number as I had 10 years ago...damn it! I searched through that damned black rolodex or my "little rolling, black book" - couldn't carry it with me where I went, but when I needed a go-to or a one-nighter or an easy come-up? I would just grab that knob by its handles and spin away! Sometimes it took a few spins to settle on a name, but more often than not, I got the sucker I was spinning for. That is sad, I know, but when I think of how I spun that rolling black book - each of the names alphabetized, color-coordinated and itemized in the way that we "connected", the name that came up would do whatever I wanted. Anything I wanted.

Within reason, of course. My reason for my call, however was to get him to give me money - sort of like an investment. You know, toward a goal that would benefit the both of us and any future we'd hoped to have for the two of us. Now, what I wasn't saying was that there was no future. I just didn't imply that the futures weren't intertwined - there would be no 'he and I'. Just his M-O-N-E-Y. I hang my head. 'What are you going to tell him?' I hit my head on my desk repeatedly, hoping to jar some kind of great idea. Nope, no lightbulbs here. Ouch.

I took his $2,000 and was able to finesse it into $20K! Twenty thousand dollars, cold-hard cash! I told the truth about one thing though, I would be able to net him the money he invested and interest. He was so thrilled to have heard from me, he didn't ask at what rate, how much interest, how soon or how much! He fell head over ass on just the phone call with a girl he'd spent 1 year getting to know, 6 months of nerve to propose to and 9 years to get over...only to give up $2K to and not have the slightest clue as to what he'd be getting (or not) in return.

I left work after receiving the great news about my stock trading skills, holding the piece of cake we'd celebrated my accomplishments with and barely dropping the wine I was soon to crack open the minute I stepped in my apartment. I couldn't drive fast enough. Hoping not to be pulled over for wreckless driving, much less speeding or having an open container in the car - because yea, I did open the bottle at the first red light that caught me. I had no intentions of giving any of the money back, much less what he'd given me. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe. I made no 'promises', just that there were no guarantees and if I was successful, I would be in a big way. I just didn't say for whom I would be successful.

The real hard truth was I needed that money for an A to B vehicle, catching up on rent and a bed. Sleeping on the floor was not the way to go, having done it for 7 months was getting a bit hard to deal with. Everything had a price and so did the company I wouldn't keep because of it. Who wants to entertain when there's no where to sit, much less...entertain! First order of business? Pay up the rent. Secondly, find a dealership that wouldn't rob me so blind that I didn't see the con coming. Lastly, test every bed manufacturer known to man!

Stumbling into the bank, I drop my purse. All of its contents spill out onto the floor, including the envelope with the cashier's check inside. I rush to pick it up, knowing the value of what's inside and a slender, flawless hand (male hand) picks it up. "Let me get that for you, ma'am." When I can focus my sights inside of the bank's lobby, I look up to find him! Of all the people in all of the State of New York, Jackson Fitzgerald had to be in mine! "Thanks." I say, slightly turned away and covering my eyes. "Danielle? I thought that was you. I tried calling you back to let you know that I was moving to NY and I could've given you the money then, but you seemed so anxious on the phone..." he handed me the envelope with my company's tradng firm name on the front. "Hey! How'd we do?"

"We? We, uh, we...", I can't think! I can't put one simple sentence together! If my firm found out about my little secret and how I managed to come up with the investment money, I'd lose my license and therefore my livelihood. I couldn't...breathe. I couldn't...oh my stars, I think I am about to faint.