Hidden in Pink

Pink

I escaped. After a half hour of arguing, and a single plate being thrown at my head, I escaped. Can you believe she only threw one plate at me? With my last retort, I would've thrown three.

Work was my safe place, my haven. A sanctuary where I'm the shiniest, perfectly polished, most pristine star. Because I own the place. Everybody loves me at the office. Being the owner of a billion dollar company definitely has its perks of being the CEO of the largest publishing company in New York. The office was abuzz when I walked in. People running around with paperwork, the printer spitting out faxes and work that would make my employees cry. The teenage boy that works in the mailroom, Barry, was running around at million miles per hour, delivering everyone their share of mail. Last month he earned the nickname The Flash.

Everyone seemed to pause when my presence was made clear. The office has always reminded me of something special, and when I think of that day: my paperwork load seems to get smaller, I have a skip in my step on the way to the copyroom, and all I had to do was think of her. That was it. And my day would instantly get better.

I decided for the next hour or so, I would just daydream about that day. Just sitting in my office, a cup of boiling hot coffee in my hand, and the idea of her. And I could. I mean, I'm the boss. I get to do whatever the fuck I want.

She was a small, adorably short. She had a medium skin tone and her curly ringlets pushed up into a bun. Her pencil skirt clung to her thighs that her white shirt was tucked into. A tuff stuck out, telling me she's in a bit of a rush to get here. I was in the restaurant downstairs when I saw her. She looked confused as she sat down at her own table, as if she was expecting someone to be there. That was my cue.

I'd never felt so confident walking over to another woman. Approaching woman always cam with the same feeling: nervousness, sweats, what the hell you're going to do or say if you get rejected. However, that's never happened to me before. It really hasn't. Anyway, she was vulnerable now, slightly upset. So I tucked my ring in my coat pocket, and strode towards her. "Is this seat taken?" I asked, my hand already grazing the rim of the chair.

Her eyes weren't on me when she said, "No. I guess not," and with that, I sat down across from her, her face still thoroughly confused. I prayed I hadn't just walk into a tangled mess of crying and women troubles. One time I had walked in on Lizzy when she was watching Stuck In Love. It was a nightmare. Mascara scrolling down her cheeks, lipstick smeared across her face, tears falling into her glass of wine, it was horrendous. I remember the way she looked up at me when she finally realized I had been watching her. Her eyes looked as if they were glass, Lizzy looked at me, still sobbing, her mouth still making that hiccupy noise. Absolutely terrible. I didn't think I'd be able to handle that again.

"So, who was supposed to be sitting in this chair?" I inquired. The question was supposed to be a conversation starter but it was also genuine. Who left this beautiful woman so dazed and confused. She finally looked up at me, her face completely blank. Her dark brown eyes were fixed on me, and I could feel them as they scraped their way into my soul. She gave me a feeling I had never experienced before. A good feeling, one I'd remember everyday I would step into the office.

She let out a light laugh, shaking her head as she did so. "I had a job interview with Ben Affleck in the flesh. I guess he's too busy with himself and all his glory," she laughed more.

Holy shit, so she was my 6:30 interview? She's the girl trying to become an editor! She must be a writer, she had to be. The luck I was having.

Usually when one would insult, (like my wife), I would throw the sharpest of knives back. I would aim at their shitty personality, to their wealth, comparing their success to mine, the clothes on their back, and to finish it off, I would throw in pinch of pity. Things like, "It's sad that the potential in what could have been such a good person went to waste." I've said things like this over an argument about football. I lost my brother that day.

However, that day, I was completely thrown off by this girl. If one were to approach me and tell that I was in love with her, I wouldn't hesitate to believe them. In my mind she was perfect. In my mind she is perfect. Hell, everyone in this room thought she was perfect. Trust me, I'm not the only one in which she had turning heads. In fact, I think I had seen Bill Waldorf, begin to brace himself. The second everyone saw me walk over to her, their chances were fried. And even so, when she said those words of discouragement to me, I saw nothing but a challenge, and I couldn't wait to prove her wrong.

I laughed, "You obviously don't know what this Ben Affleck guy looks like," I bit down my growing smile, but I could tell she could still see it through my teeth.

She scoffed playfully, "And how would you know, stranger," she said, leaning in closer. Our lips were only inches apart, and you wouldn't even be able to imagine what I wanted to do to them.

This was it, the grand finale. "Because I'm him. Ben Affleck."

A wave of giddiness flooded through me as I thought about that night, and what had happened here, just in this office. However, she didn't take the job after my protests in insisting that she must, claiming that it'd be "unprofessional" and "inappropriate." And I never saw her again. Ever. At least, when she was aware of it.