Page 3 of Pride

Seven flights I really wish I hadn’t taken in five-inch heels.

By the time I reached the foyer, I was huffing and sweating, probably looking like a red-faced hot mess.

“Have you seen a taxi pull up?” I asked Leo at the reception desk.

“No. Not yet,” he answered, not even bothering to look up from his crossword.

I don’t think Leo would’ve noticed if a flipping parade was dancing down the street; he was so engrossed in his puzzle. So, I walked towards the revolving glass doors, but there was no taxi outside.

To kill time, I sat down on the sofas in the reception area and took out my phone, in case I’d received a message to say my Uber was running late. But all I had was a text from Gracie with a photo of a glass of gin and tonic sitting on the table at the bar.

‘Get here before the ice melts’ she’d written, and I went to type back that I was waiting for my cab, when I heard a familiar voice bellow across the foyer.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stephen Gold hollered down the phone as he strode past Leo, who still had his head bent over his crossword. Even Mr Gold’s booming voice couldn’t distract him. “No one else needs to go. I’m going alone.”

I slipped my phone back into my bag and sat back into the sofa, hoping he’d walk straight past me and go outside.

“But that’s absurd. Do they know who I am?” he yelled, making me cringe.

You’re a legend in your own mind; that’s what you are, Mr Gold.

“I swear to God, Phillip. If this is a fucking wind up...” He threw his head back and huffed, then snapped, “Fine.” He cut the call, clenching his jaw as he glared around the foyer, first at Leo, then at Phyllis, who’d just walked in and was emptying the bin beside the security desk, and then his eyes fell on me.

“You,” he snapped, pointing his phone at me. “I need you to attend a work event with me this evening. I need to take a plus one.”

“No,” I said before I could engage my brain.

“No?” He furrowed his brow and glared back at me. “That wasn’t a request, it was a fucking order.”

“But it’s Friday night, Sir,” I explained. “And I have plans.”

“Then you’ll have to unmake those plans,” he demanded, standing firm, not giving two shits about what I wanted.

His chubby face was growing redder, and his jowls had started to wobble. He was seconds away from throwing one of his hissy fits that he was famous for in the office.

“Can’t someone else go?” I ventured, knowing exactly what his answer would be, but I had to try.

“Well, it’s you or her,” he said, nodding over at Phyllis, who was standing frozen to the spot, gawping at us. “But I don’t think she’s dressed for the occasion in her blue and white gingham, polyester apron, do you?” I took a breath as he scanned my body, then turned his nose up and added, “You could’ve worn something less... tacky.”

I gasped.

“I’m dressed to meet my friend. Which I still plan to do. I understand you need someone to accompany you to an event, but there are other people you could ask.”

“No, there isn’t,” he snapped. “Everyone has left for the day, and I can’t call Maisie. She won’t answer if I do.”

Maisie was his on-off girlfriend. Long-suffering, some might say, me included.

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again, lost for words.

Mr Gold tilted his head.

“Do you like your job, Miss Belmont?”

No.

“Yes.” I swallowed, waiting expectantly for what he was about to say next.

“I should probably rephrase that. Do you need this job, Miss Belmont?”