Brenda Read online

  “What was that?”

  “I said you could give me a raise.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m not even your boss.”

  “You own the company.”

  “My dad owns the company.”

  “You’re going to own the company.”

  “One day. For now, I’m a secretary.”

  “Well, when you own the company, how about making me a vice president?”

  Lucy laughed. “Vice President of what? Being a racist dick?”

  “You have a VP of Racism? That’s awesome. Yeah, give me that job.”

  “No, we don’t. I mean, we have a VP of Human Resources that deals with racism, or accusations of racism anyway.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, make me that. I can always rename it later.”

  “Yeah, I’m not doing that. Besides, they’re more on the prevention side when it comes to racism.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m not going to put a department in charge of eliminating racism in the work place in the hands of a man who calls all Asian people Shin-huan Choo.”

  “I can change that. Come on, Lucy. I’ve got great ideas on preventing racism.”

  “Mm-hmm. Such as?”

  “Spray painting everyone the same color.”

  “No, Jacob. You can’t spray paint the employees,” Lucy said, burying her face in her palm, the universal sign that she was dealing with an idiot.

  “Come on. You haven’t even heard what color I’m going to paint them.”

  “It doesn’t matter what color it is. I’m pretty sure painting employees violates some law or regulation, not to mention the disrespect it shows for the people who work for us. It’s offensive regardless of the color.”

  “The color’s white. I want to paint everyone in the company white.”

  “That’s the most offensive color you could have picked.”

  “Fine. Make me VP of Human Resources and I promise I won’t spray paint the employees.”

  “Or any other kind of paint?”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Jacob,” Lucy warned.

  “Fine. I won’t paint the employees.”

  “Ever?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Lucy, I ain’t Mother Theresa. I can’t promise that it will never happen.”

  “So, in your view, not painting people who work for you is the same as devoting your life to caring for the sick of India?”

  Jacob rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not the same, obviously. But it’s similar.”

  “How?”

  “They both involve not painting people.”

  “Yeah, I’m not letting you anywhere near the HR department.”

  “Whatever,” Jacob grumbled and went back to eating his food. They sat in silence for a moment, Jacob eating his burrito, and Lucy picking at her salad, I guess. Salad seems to be something she’d order.

  “So, other than David, how do you like your coworkers?” Lucy asked, changing the subject from Jacob’s racist and incredibly stupid HR proposals.

  “I like Henry and Steve alright,” Jacob said. He didn’t particularly, but he figured he had to pick his battles. If he just said he didn’t like anybody then people would start ignoring his complaints and his dislike would have less credibility than an NCAA sanction, though at least his dislike would be both consistent and predictable. “Olivia is a bit uptight, though.”

  “Oh, I love Olivia.”

  “Really?” Jacob said, secretly disappointed as he had only called her “uptight” because he’d wanted to get a feel for Lucy’s opinion before straight up calling her a bitch.

  “Absolutely. She’s one of our best managers,” Lucy said, munching on her salad like a fucking rabbit. “I think she’s going to go pretty far in our company. I have a feeling that she’s going to be a pretty important player in a couple of years, and do a lot of good for our business.”

  “Oh,” Jacob said with the hint of hopeful relief that he could still mock Olivia openly, “so you only like her because you think she’s talented and will make a good manager?”

  “I think she’ll make a good COO,” Lucy corrected. “And no, I like her as a person as well. She’s actually a pretty good friend.”

  Fuck, Jacob thought, seeing any hope for an anti-Olivia rant disappear before his eyes. “I see.”

  “I mean, she can definitely be very Type A, but it’s because she’s driven. You know, she’s motivated. She expects the best from herself, and she delivers it. If it means she’s uptight from time to time, well, it’s what makes her special. It’s what makes her successful. But she’s a nice person, and at the end of the day, a good friend.”

  “Whatever. I haven’t gotten to know her that well. As for Bethany, I can’t stand being around her,” Jacobs said, turning his attention to an easier, larger, softer target.

  “Aww, really?” Lucy asked as if Jacob had just curb-stomped a puppy. Wow, I just made myself really sad thinking about that. Let’s go with curb-stomped a baby instead. Somehow, that’s better. “But she’s such a sweetheart. Haven’t you seen how she puts out candy for everyone? How could you not like her?”

  “Yeah, of course she would put out candy.”

  “Jacob, don’t be nasty.”

  “I’m surprised she doesn’t put out a full fried chicken and cake buffet.”

  “Knock it off, Jacob.”

  “She’s fat.”

  “Yeah, Jacob, I get it. Seriously, don’t be a dick,” Lucy said, which is like telling an eagle not to be a bird. “She’s a good person. Just leave her alone.”

  “I’m not saying she’s not a good person. I’m just saying maybe she should stop eating fried cookie dough for breakfast.”

  “Whatever. Maybe it’s something she can’t control.”

  “No, I’ve seen what she eats for lunch. It’s more than I eat in a week, and it’s mostly junk.”

  “So? Maybe that’s what her parents fed her. It’s a lot more difficult to change tastes and habits later in life. I’m sure it’s not as easy for her to eat healthy as it is for you and me,” Lucy said, looking at Jacob’s greasy, cheese-covered lunch. “Well, for me anyway. Besides, it’s not like it’s any of your business anyhow. Stop fat shaming her.”

  “Fuck that. She should stop having massive personality flaws that she refuses to work on. I mean, I don’t care if she’s fat, but she could at least try to eat healthier. Or go for a walk on occasion. You know, at least make an effort.”

  “And how do you know she’s not?”

  Jacob shrugged before polishing off his own fat-filled, greasy meal. “I don’t. I’m just assuming she isn’t.”

  Lucy put on her best judgmental face. “Right. Maybe you should stop making fun of people you know nothing about based on baseless assumptions.”

  “Yeah, probably. But this is more fun. Besides, with all that perfume she smells terrible.”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  She did.

  Jacob gathered his trash and pushed his chair back. “Well, I’m going to get going. You want to walk in together tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. All right, then. Well, I’ll see you around.”

  “No, Jacob, I mean wait,” Lucy said, reaching out and grabbing Jacob’s arm. “Don’t leave yet. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  Shit. That never means something good, Jacob thought, debating for a second whether to sit down or jump through the window and flee down the street. I could probably be out of sight and hiding somewhere before she know what’s going on if I shove a few of these old people out of the way. I wonder if she knows where I live.

  “Jacob, I don’t know how to say this,” Lucy said with a sigh as Jacob sat back down, instead of running away like a man.

  “Why? Did you forget how to speak English?”

  “What? No. What language have I been speaking in this whole time?”

  “I don’t know. Japanese? Arabic? Ooh, I know, you’re speaking in tongues. Th
at’s what you want to tell me, but you don’t know what language it will come out in.”

  “No, Jacob. I mean, I know what I want to say, and how to say it. It’s just difficult, you know?”

  “Why? Oh my God, Lucy, did you have a miscarriage?”

  “What? Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”

  Jacob gasped. “Did you miscarry my child?”

  “Jesus Christ, no. I was never pregnant. And we’ve never even had sex, so how would I be pregnant with your child? Why would that be the first thing that came to your mind? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Autism? It’s not my fault.”

  “You’re not autistic, Jacob,” Lucy said, rubbing her temples with a sigh. “You’re just an asshole.”

  “Careful, or I’ll call the ARAP on you.”

  “What the hell’s the ARAP?”

  “American Association of Retarded People.”

  “Jacob, I like you,” Lucy said, serious-izing the conversation. “There it is. It’s out there now.”

  “Well, I like you too. That’s why I’m eating with you, instead of mocking you behind your back. It’s also why I didn’t pee on your food.”

  “How could you pee on my food? I never left the table.”

  “All the better to get the message through. Trust me, I pee on a lot of people’s food. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Whatever. No, I mean I like you like you,” Lucy said, her language reverting to that of a grade school student.

  “Like me like me? What are you? Fucking ten?”

  “Do you have to be so insensitive?”

  “I mean, just say you want to bang me. We’re both adults. Why not just come out and say it?”

  Lucy sighed. “Because it’s more than that. I don’t just want a physical relationship. I want, you know, a relationship relationship.”

  “Why?”

  “I like being with you.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. It’s just, as annoying as you can be, I find you funny. And I think, behind your insensitive, crass exterior, you’re secretly a very sweet, caring guy.”

  “Oh, so you’re stupid.”

  “I’m not doing this with you right now,” Lucy said, standing up from her seat and grabbing her purse. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. You don’t need to respond now. It’s just something that’s out there now. Think about it.”

  “How was lunch with Ms. Fontaine, sir?” Reginald asked as Jacob entered his apartment.

  “It was weird. Well, and Mexican. But mostly, it was weird.”

  ‘Really sir? How so?”

  “Well, she came out to me today.”

  “Ms. Fontaine is a lesbian,” Reginald said, licking his lips, a smirk slowly creeping across his face until it became a wide grin. “Nice.”

  “No, Reginald, you old creep. I mean she told me that she likes me.”

  “What is she? Stupid?”

  “Hey fuck you, Reginald. I’m a likeable guy.”

  “No, you aren’t, sir.”

  “No, I’m not. I had the same thought, actually.” Jacob walked to the fridge, opened the door, and poured himself a glass of seltzer water before heading into the other room and sitting down in front of the television.

  “So, sir?” Reginald said.

  “So what, Reginald?”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Jacob shrugged. “I guess I’ll avoid her for a while. I mean, it seems like it would be a little awkward, talking to her now. After a few weeks, this should all blow over, and we’ll be back to normal.”

  “So your plan is to do nothing, sir?”

  “Why do I have to do anything? It’s not my problem. I’m not the one who has a crush on someone. Well, I mean I do, but it’s not Lucy.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of it as a problem, sir.”

  “What do you mean, Reginald? Are you stupid? Of course it’s a problem. A friend of mine, who also happens to own the company I work for, has feelings for me. Do you know the potential this has to complicate shit? Of course it’s a problem, you moron. Are you stupid? Did you drink a big glass of stupid juice this morning? Did you sleep in a stupid bed with a stupid whore and catch her stupid diseases, you stupid fucking stupid?”

  Reginald rolled his eyes. “No, sir, not a stupid whore. Anyway, what I was insinuating, sir, is that this may be an opportunity worth considering.”

  “What do you mean an opportunity, Reginald? Are you implying that I should use this to get closer to Lucy, then get a sex-change operation, kill her, assume her identity, and take over her father’s company?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good, because I’m kind of attached to my wing-a-ling ding dong. I’m not going to cut it off just to gain control of some girl’s company. What the hell is wrong with you, Reginald?”

  “I wasn’t suggest any such course of action, sir.”

  “Now, if the plan were to involve only a wig,” Jacob said, scratching his chin in the deepest thought he’d been in in some time. “Reginald, you may actually be on to something. Alright, you get the wig and the dresses, I’ll shave my legs. Haha, now we’re cooking with castor oil, you old rat.”

  “Sir, have a seat, please,” Reginald said with a deep sigh.

  “Oh, shit. Not this again. Last time somebody said those words, I ended up on national TV and the sex offender’s registry. Damn you, how’d you trick me into your house of deceit again, you rat bastard.”

  “Sir, you’re in your own house. I know that you know that. Now, stop being a dumbass and sit down. I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

  “I know, Reginald, but serious conversations are boring,” Jacob sighed, sitting next to his older, wiser, and less idiotic butler. “And they’re difficult, and they often involve emotions. Emotions are stupid, Reginald. Why can’t we just avoid having emotions altogether? It would make life so much easier.”

  “Because people are stupid, sir,” Reginald said, taking a fatherly seat next to Jacob. “But let’s consider the situation in full before you write off Ms. Fontaine so readily.”

  “What’s there to talk about, Reginald? I don’t love her.”

  “And why not, sir? Do you not find her attractive?”

  “No. Well, I mean, she’s cute. But she’s not as good looking as, I don’t know, Brenda, for instance.”

  “Well, I would disagree, but you do find her attractive, don’t you?”

  Jacob rolled his eyes. “Sure, Reginald. I mean, I never thought about it until now, but yeah, she’s cute. But it’s not just that.”

  “Good to see you’re not just a shallow asshole, sir. But she’s smart, charming. She’s hard-working. Most importantly, you seem to enjoy being around her.”

  “I do. And he’s rich, which is a plus,” Jacob said proving that while he may not have just been a shallow asshole, he certainly had shallow assholish tendencies.

  “Right. So, all in all, it sounds like you and Ms. Fontaine would make a pretty good couple,” Reginald said, presumably because Lucy’s hard-working, responsible nature would offset Jacob’s self-serving prickitude.

  “Perhaps. Doesn’t matter, Reginald, I don’t love her. I love Brenda,” Jacob said, idiotically, like an idiotic stupid face.

  “Ah, yes, our old friend Ms. Brenda. And what exactly do you know about this Brenda girl, sir?”

  “She’s cute. And Australian. And cute.”

  “So basically, nothing.”

  “I know I love her.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, Reginald,” Jacob said, standing up, about to go all Tom Cruise on Oprah. “That’s the thing about love, Reginald. It’s not logical, it’s not quantifiable, or articulable. It’s just wonderful, it’s beautiful. It’s…”

  “An emotion, and therefore stupid, sir,” Reginald said with a deep sigh. “Look, sir, before Brenda, how many women did you think you were in love with? And how many of them
have you forgotten about since? How many of those women did you lose interest in once you actually got to know them?”

  “I don’t know. A lot,” Jacob said, by which he meant all of them.

  “Exactly. Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t continue to try to get to know Ms. Brenda. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t throw away a sure relationship with somebody you know in pursuit of a long shot with someone you think you love.”

  “Fuck you, Reginald. I told you, I’m going to marry Brenda. A lot of people marry for love, you know.”

  “A lot of people get divorced, sir, for that very reason. All I’m saying is that Ms. Fontaine’s proposal is not something to be dismissed so lightly.”

  “I don’t know, Reginald. It just seems that if I end up with Lucy, I’ll be settling. I won’t be marrying someone I love, I’ll be settling.”

  “Everyone settles, sir. That’s the truth the media doesn’t tell you, sir. People don’t fall in love. They settle.”

  “I’ll think about it, Reginald. I’m not sure I’m ready to lower my expectations just yet.”

  “Well, you better get used to it. That’s what life is, sir. Life is the process of giving up all your hopes and lowering your expectations until they coincide with the pathetic existence you have.”

  Chapter 10-Jacob Gets Chewed Out.

  The next day, Jacob got up and got dressed for work, took the elevator to the lobby, got off, and promptly got back on when he saw Lucy in the lobby. After waiting for about ten minutes he took the elevator back down and walked in to work.

  “Hey, Jacob,” Bethany greeted him with the wide smile you would expect from a kind, caring woman doing all she can to make other people like her, but failing due to the shallowness and self-serving nature of the human race in general and the protagonist specifically. “You’re a little later than usual. You look nice today.”

  What business is it of yours what time I get in, you whale-eating cow with fat assitis? “Uh, thanks. You too. Yeah, sorry I’m a little late. I got caught up in a conversation I really couldn’t avoid. Did Steve say something?”

  “Oh, no. It’s fine anyway. He doesn’t care. Besides, we all know how early you get in, so you know, if you’re running late, we assume it’s something important,” Bethany said with a smile and a cheerfulness that would have melted Satan’s heart, or cooled it, or what the fuck ever one would do to Satan’s heart to make him less of a dick. It didn’t affect Jacob though. He was officially a worse person than Satan and Hitler combined. Satitler.