“Stop that,” he said brusquely, and then narrowed his eyes as he leaned closer to her. “Let me put it to you this way, Grace. We go upstairs for an hour or two, and celebrate your birthday, or you're out of a job as of this minute. Now is it ‘Happy Birthday,’ or ‘Happy Trails to You,’ which is it?” If it hadn't been so awful, she would have laughed, but Grace wasn't laughing, she just cried harder, as she looked him in the eye and told him.
“I guess I'm out of a job then. I'll pick my paycheck up tomorrow.” She left the table without saying another word and went back to her apartment in tears. And the next day she went back to the agency to pick up her things, and her last paycheck.
Cheryl returned from New York the next day, and she smiled broadly when she saw Grace come in that morning. Grace couldn't help wondering what Bob had told her. But it didn't matter anymore. She had made her mind up. She only had a little over two months left until her probation ended anyway, and then she could do anything she wanted.
“Feeling better?” Cheryl asked sunnily. She'd had a ball in New York. She always did. Sometimes she was sorry they didn't live there.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Grace said quietiy. After twenty-one months of working for them, she was actually sorry to leave them, but she knew she had no choice now.
“Bob said you got a terrible case of food poisoning yesterday at lunch, and had to go home. Poor baby.” Cheryl patted her arm, and hurried back to her office. She seemed to have no idea that Grace had been fired, or was quitting. And at that moment, Bob came out, and looked at her blankly.
“Feeling better, Grace?” he asked as though nothing had happened between them. And she spoke quietly, so no one else could hear her.
“I came to pick up my check, and pack my things.”
“You don't need to do that,” he said with no expression whatsoever. “I think we can both forget it, can't we?” He looked at her pointedly, and she hesitated for a long moment, and then nodded. There was no point creating a scandal over it, it had happened, and now she knew what she had to do. It was time.
She waited another six weeks till Labor Day, and then gave them a month's notice. Cheryl was heartbroken, and Bob pretended to be too, and Marjorie cried when Grace told her. But in another three weeks she'd be free from probation, and she knew it was time to leave Chicago. She was pretty sure by then that the photographs Marcus had taken were not obscene, even Bob Swanson had said she was completely covered by the man's shirt and nothing was exposed, but they were unpleasant anyway, and he had it in for her. And so did Bob. Marcus was prepared to lie and tell people she was a cheap trick. And God only knew what Bob would say to protect himself, maybe that she'd put the make on him, if it ever served his purpose. She was tired of people like them, photographers who thought they owned the world, and models who were all too willing to be exploited. And she felt as though she had done all she could at St. Mary's. It was time for her to move on. And she knew it.
They gave her a farewell party at the agency, and lots of photographers and models came. One of the girls had already agreed to take her place at the town house. The day after her last day of work, Grace went to see Louis Marquez. She was two days late checking out with him, because she'd been too busy packing up, and finishing at the agency, and legally, she was already out of his jurisdiction when she went to see him.
“So where are you going now?” he asked conversationally. He was really going to miss her, and his occasional drop-in visits to her apartment.
“New York.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Got a job yet?” She laughed at the question. She no longer owed him any explanations. She owed nothing to anyone. She had fulfilled all her obligations, and Cheryl had given her a fantastic reference, which Bob had co-signed.
“Not yet, Mr. Marquez. I'll get one after I get there. I don't think it'll be too hard.” Now she had references and experience. She had everything she needed.
“You shouldda stayed here and been a model. You're as good-looking as the rest of those girls, and a whole lot smarter.” He actually said it almost kindly.
“Thanks,” she would have liked to feel at least civil to him, but she didn't. He had been rotten to her for the entire two years, and she never wanted to see him again. She signed all the necessary papers, and as she handed him his pen, he grabbed her hand, and she looked up at him in surprise, and then pulled her hand back.
“You wouldn't wanna … you know … knock off a quick one for old times’ sake, huh, Grace?” He was sweating noticeably, and his hand had been wet and slimy.
“No, I wouldn't,” she said calmly. He didn't frighten her anymore. He couldn't do anything to her. She had done everything she was supposed to. And he had just signed off on her papers, and she had them firmly clutched in her hand. She was just an ordinary citizen now. Her past was finally behind her. And this little bastard wasn't going to revive it.
“Come on, Grace, be a sport.” He came around the desk at her, and before she could move away, he grabbed her and tried to kiss her, and she pushed him back so hard, that he hit his leg on the corner of the desk and shouted at her. “Still scared of guys, huh, Grace? What are you going to do? Kill the next one who tries to fuck you? Kill 'em all?”
But as he said that to her, she moved toward him instead of away and grabbed him by his collar. He was probably stronger than she was, but she was a lot taller, and he was surprised when she grabbed him.
“Listen, you little shit, if you ever lay a hand on me again, I'm going to call the cops on you, and let them kill you. I wouldn't bother. You touch me, and you'll be doing time for rape, and don't think I wouldn't do it. Now don't ever come near me again.” She flung him away from her, and he watched without a word, as she grabbed her bag and strode out of his office, banging the door hard behind her. It was over. It was all history. The moment Molly had promised her years ago had come. Her life was her own now.
Chapter 9
Leaving Marjorie was hard for Grace, she was the only friend Grace really had. And leaving the people at St. Mary's was sad too. Paul Weinberg wished her luck, and told her that he was getting married over Christmas. She was happy for him. But for a lot of reasons, she was glad to leave Chicago. She was glad to leave Illinois, and the nightmarish memories she had there. There had always been the fear that someone from Watseka would turn up and recognize her.
In New York, she knew that would never happen.
She took a plane to New York this time, not like when she had come into Chicago by bus from Dwight. And most of her savings were still intact. She had never spent much money, and she'd been paid well by the Swansons. She'd even managed to save a little extra money, and her nest egg was back up to slightly over fifty thousand. She had already wired it ahead to a bank in New York. And she already knew where she wanted to stay, and she had a reservation. One of the models had told her about it, and thought it was a dumb place, because they didn't let you bring in guys, but it was exactly what Grace wanted.
She took a cab from the airport directly to the Bar-bizon for Women on Lexington and Sixty-third, and she loved the neighborhood the moment she saw it. There were shops and apartment houses, it was busy and alive and residential. It was only three blocks from Bloomingdale's, which she had heard about for years, some of the girls had modeled for them, and it was a block from Park Avenue, and three from Central Park. She loved it.
She spent Sunday wandering lazily up Madison, and looking at the shops, and then she went to the zoo and bought a balloon. It was a beautiful October day, and in a funny way, she felt like she'd come home finally. She'd never been happier in her life, and on Monday she went to three employment agencies to look for work. The next morning they called her with half a dozen interviews. Two at modeling agencies, which she declined. She'd had enough of that life, and the people who were in it. And the agencies were disappointed, since her reference from the Swansons was so good, and she knew the business. The third interview was at a plastics firm, which seemed boring and which she turned down, and the last one was at a very important law firm, Mackenzie, Broad, and Steinway. She'd never heard of them before, but apparently everyone in business in New York had.