Текст книги "Pure Abandon"

Автор книги: Jeannine Colette

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Looks like I’ve “cut off my nose to spite my face,” as my mother would say. I never understood that expression, but I know it’s what I just did. With too much pride to go downstairs, I turn on our TV in the bedroom and watch the game from the comfort of my pillow.

Stupid husband.

I watch the game well into the seventh inning, when my eyes grow very heavy and I slowly start to drift.

My body jerks awake. The room is dark. The TV is turned off, and Gabriel is next to me, sound asleep. I glance over at the clock. It’s just after four in the morning. Jackson didn’t wake up tonight. That’s good.

I lower my head back to the pillow to settle back to sleep when I remember what it was that startled me awake.

I had a dream.

I dreamed of him again.

We were at the museum, standing in the lobby where we were just two days ago. Instead of him disappearing, like he did that night, he held out his hand to me. I looked down at it for a mere second before placing my hand in his. He pulled me toward him, but not into his arms. Asher took my hand and led me out of the lobby and through the front entrance where a black Escalade was waiting for us on the sidewalk. I looked at the open door and when I looked inside, everything inside was black.

It’s been two weeks since my first encounter with Asher. Every morning I wonder if today is the day I will run into him again. More importantly, every day I wonder if today will be the day he will return one of my messages.

I’ve sent every invoice and production idea up to Asher’s office and have yet to hear from him. I’ve been moving forward with the preliminary work, but without his final approval, I can’t confirm anything. I asked Malory about it this morning and she told me to wait on Asher.

I feel like I’m in limbo. This event is only two months away and I can’t get anything done. If he doesn’t answer me by the end of the week, I’m going to move forward with my plans.

Malory also informed me this morning I need to buy a dress for the gala. I assumed I’d be wearing something professional like a suit since I’ll be working. She said I need to dress in formal attire and looked at me like I had three heads due to the fact I didn’t know this. So now I also have to add “find an evening gown” to the list.

Malory and I step off the elevator and I see those goddamn white roses again.

Yes, they’re still alive.

And they’re not just alive; they’re flourishing.

Every time I see them, I swear they’re getting bigger. I think my mind is playing tricks on me. It’s quite possible it is.

As annoyed as I am to see the roses, I can’t stop myself from smelling them. That heavenly scent of rose mixed with the vanilla accent has become part of my morning ritual.

Looking beyond the flowers, I notice a mound of red hair piled on the desk, buried under porcelain hands.

“Is everything okay?” I say, swinging around the partition to see the usually bubbly and exuberant Trish looking upset.

Trish pops up from her state of distress. Wiping her face with her palms, she tries to gain composure.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bad day at the office.” Trish’s eyes drift up to Malory. She must be embarrassed to say what’s bothering her in front of someone else.

I turn around and face Malory. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Malory looks back and forth from me to Trish. If she didn’t wear a constant veil of confidence I’d think she were offended by being dismissed. With a nod, she turns on her heel and heads down the concrete corridor.

Resting my hand on Trish’s bony shoulder, I lean down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Letting out a sigh, Trish resigns and opens up. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have asked…”

“Asked what?” I kneel down, bringing myself eye level with her.

Trish swoops her long braid around her shoulder and plays with it between her fingers. “Well, with all the extra work I’m doing with Heather and having to maintain my post here, I thought now would be a perfect time to ask for a raise.”

Asking for a raise doesn’t seem out of the norm. I’ve watched Trish bow to Heather’s every whim. The two have been like Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner with Trish zipping around the office, bouncing from fax machine to delivering proposals to getting coffee and making phone calls.

And from the looks of it… “You didn’t get it?”

“No,” Trish says, looking at me with big brown eyes. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not a real promotion. It’s only until the concerts are over, but…” Trish clenches her teeth.

“But what?” I lean my head to the side.

“It’s that damn Heather. I’m only an assistant and she’s had me working on things an associate producer would do. I don’t mind the work. It’s what I want to do. I want to learn more, you know?” Trish pulls her braid into her mouth

I rub her shoulder with the palm of my hand. “Honey, don’t take Heather’s attitude personally. She hates everyone. I’ve been here for five minutes and already know that.”

“Yes, but Erik was going to give me the raise. He heard my proposal and thought it was valid. I was so excited.” Trish leans her head down and lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “Then I intercepted an email between Erik and Mr. Asher where Mr. Asher denied my raise.”

My hand instantly stops rubbing; my body becomes tense in anger. “What?” I say entirely too loud.

Trish further lowers her head and keeps her voice low. “Mr. Asher said due to Heather’s review of me and input on the matter, I was denied a raise and Erik should evaluate whether I am suitable to assist Heather during this very critical venture for the company.”

My teeth clench and I can feel the blood simmer in my veins. Why are people so cruel? I don’t know Trish well and have worked with her for a brief time, but it is painfully obvious how devoted she is to the company and that she’s a hard worker.

She is also quite the little spy.

“Trish, do you have access to everyone’s email?”

Her face turns green as her eyes grow wide with mild panic. “No, just Erik’s. He gave me access last year when he went to Australia and would be out of pocket at times. When he returned, he neglected to revoke my administrative rights to read his email.” Trish catches herself. “But I swear, I never read them! This was a one-time scenario. I just knew something was wrong.”

I lean closer and give her frail frame a half hug. “It’s okay, Trish. I know you didn’t mean any harm.” Maybe it’s the mother in me. I feel very protective of this girl. It’s nice to know I can be to her what Malory was to me.

Our moment is disrupted when the elevator bell chimes and the doors slowly swing open. Trish’s eyes light up at the sight of a boy wearing acid-wash jeans and a T-shirt labeling an indie band. His hair is disheveled and his sneakers are untied. He looks more like a boy than a man, straight out of college. This must be the Kevin I’d heard about during our little coffee breaks.

My suspicions are confirmed when he rounds the desk and pulls his distraught girlfriend up from her chair

“Are you okay? You didn’t sound like yourself in your voicemail.” Kevin kisses Trish’s hair as he wraps one hand around her head and the other around her waist. It’s a beautiful sight. Memories of Gabriel and me at that age flash through my head. It wasn’t that long ago, yet it seems like a hundred years have passed.

After a long afternoon of calls, emails, and a ton of paperwork, I’m spent. I have a spreadsheet started with a timeline for the event and am slowly filling in the details. Erik wants a finalized itinerary by Friday, but I don’t know how I’m going to make this happen. At my old job, we worked on projects like these for months, not weeks. What if I forget a crucial component of the event, overlook something, or drop the ball?

I don’t know when I became so insecure. After college, I was ready to take on the world. There was no job I couldn’t or wouldn’t do.

My career started at Diamond Black Media, a small production company similar to Asher Marks, but it wasn’t owned by a major conglomerate. I heard of the job through the wife of an old baseball buddy of my father’s. She worked in production and knew that’s what I was studying in college. The company created reality shows and sold the rights to various outlets from network television to cable and Internet. My role there was far from glamorous. I answered phones, went on coffee runs, and walked beta tapes from one office to the next. All videos were shot on beta video at that company, and I never knew what was on the tape I was carrying, just that it had to go from one person to the next. I often wondered if I was smuggling drugs or something in those cases the way people went crazy if their tape didn’t arrive on someone’s desk on time.

I did the job dutifully until they offered me a job as an office assistant and then a production assistant. When Diamond Black split, I met Malory and spent the next few years becoming a producer on various concerts and live events, similar to what I’m doing now. I learned a long time ago I was very good at logistics and timetables. Apparently, not everyone is good at that.

Okay, so it’s not the sexiest job. I’m not Gretchen, booking celebrities, but I am the one responsible for making sure the production elements are all in line. I make sure the set is properly decorated, the guests arrive on time, the green room is set up, and they have their sound checks before the performance. I am the one who knows the length of each song performance and how many people will talk before we go to commercial break. And if we don’t go to commercial on time, the network will cut us off. The thought scares the life out of me. It also gets my adrenaline pumping at the same time.

After a meeting with Harvey, to go over the first draft speeches he prepared for the event, I time them out to fit the rundown and make my way to the common area for a coffee.

God bless the Keurig. Seriously. There is no better invention than a machine that makes a gourmet blend coffee with the push of a button. Long gone are the days of the percolator and traditional grinder. I pop in a Guatemalan Roast and wait for it to produce my afternoon jolt.

I’m standing at the counter, my arms crisscrossed in front of me, as I stare at the piece of paper taped to the cabinet, informing everyone about a blood drive in the sixth floor infirmary.

The sound of heels clicking down the concrete hallway signal someone is walking toward the break room. I turn around as Heather enters the room. She stops for a second when she sees me standing by the counter.

“Oh, hi.” Her disdain for me resonates through her big brown eyes. Due to her tight pants and form-fitted button-down, I’d like to think her disdain is merely from discomfort. Nope. This chick just doesn’t like me.

Heather stands at the other side of the room as I wait for my coffee to stream down. Her tiny frame in sky-high heels and oversized chest fill the room with negative energy. I want to say something to her about Trish, but I can’t break the confidence I’ve earned from my new friend. If Heather knew Trish was reading Erik’s emails, she would have her job.

The tension between us could crack a window. It’s an odd feeling when you can’t stand someone so much you can’t even find it in your heart to make small talk. I wish someone else would just walk in and cut it with a knife.

The last bit of hot water empties into my cup, so I grab it and exit the room. Sometimes I wonder if my dad made me too passive. Sometimes I don’t want to “just breathe.” I want to speak up even if it would lead to unwarranted confrontation.

Why can’t I just say something to Heather? Ask her, “Why are you so mean?” Just the thought of it sounds so childish. Malory would never let Heather intimidate her like this.

I make my way back down the hall toward my office. Taking a sip, the coffee tastes beyond drab.

Crap. I must have put the wrong pod in the machine. This coffee is weak and watered down.

Refusing to go back into the kitchen, I stop at my office, grab my bag, and head downstairs. I’ll go to Starbucks.

Trish is still at her desk, talking to Kevin, when I walk through reception. I press the elevator call button. The room is permeated with the smell of roses and vanilla. The elevator pings and the doors open. I place one foot inside the car and find myself face to face with golden eyes.

Double crap. I should have just drunk the damn coffee.

“Mrs. Monroe.” He greets me with a wicked smile.

“Mr. Asher.” My nod is polite yet unassuming.

Trish lifts her head from talking with Kevin, and I catch a glimpse of her surprised expression as the elevator door closes.

Black pin-stripe suit, black shirt, and matching tie, he looks impeccable. His golden highlights shine under the pin lighting, and with long deft fingers, he hits the L button on the control panel for the lobby floor.

Memories of our last encounter in this elevator flood my brain. I feel him survey me from head to toe. Asher doesn’t say a word, but I feel as if I can read his thoughts from three feet away. The numbers on the elevator bay change from twenty-four to twenty-three. A million thoughts swim through my head but all become cloudy from this overwhelming energy I feel just being in this elevator with him.

The last time we were in here, he had his hand on my back and the slight touch sent shivers through my entire body. Wild, warm electricity currents down my spine. I didn’t know a human’s touch could do that to someone.

Then I remember my dream…

There must be something wrong with the elevator car because a chill runs through my body. I start to shiver.

I risk a glance in his direction and he’s smiling at me. Or is he laughing?

“Something amusing?”

He places a well-manicured finger along his lower lip and draws in a breath

“I was thinking about the last time we were in this elevator.”

Damn, can he read my mind?

“It was an unmemorable occurrence.” I stare at my reflection in the elevator door. My green eyes stare back at me, saying, Keep your cool, Kat.

“You look lovely today, Mrs. Monroe. Although, I must say, I prefer you wet.” He laughs while placing his hands in his pockets and rests his weight back on his heels. Does this man always say whatever is on his mind? What is wrong with him?

From Malory’s inquisition to Trish’s tears and Heather’s complete takeover of my backbone, I’m frustrated and pissed off.

I lean forward and pull the red elevator stop button. The cab jolts and we both lean for the walls to brace ourselves.

Shit! That was a little scary. I’ve never done that before.

Asher looks at me with confusion, humor, and if I’m not mistaken, dread.

“What is wrong with you?” It’s the only thing I can get out of my mouth.

“What’s wrong with me?” Despite my nerves, he looks calm, notwithstanding my very dramatic move. “This is a bit theatrical, don’t you think?”

I cross my arms over my body. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Then why did you do it?” His eyes penetrate into mine.

I meet him green for gold. “Because…” I’m exasperated. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Like what?” His voice is smooth and controlled. Daring me to incite myself.

“The way you talk to me… It’s so… so…” Of course, at the very moment, I’m at a complete loss for words, making me sound like a whiny twelve-year-old girl.

“Inappropriate?” He leans against the elevator wall and crosses his arms in a stance that makes him look like he’s posing for GQ magazine.

“Yes!” I shift from one foot to the other. I don’t know what to do with myself.

“Tell me. What did I say that was so inappropriate that you’ve taken the liberty to trap the CEO of a major corporation in an elevator?”

Triple crap. He’s right. My day just keeps getting… Ugh!

Oh my God, this is ridiculous. I lean over to release the stop button on the elevator but am blocked by strong hands.

“No, please, Mrs. Monroe. I’d like to hear this out, since it was worthy enough of halting us mid-ride.” His comment oozes with sexual innuendo.

Maybe it’s just my imagination.

“You can’t say things like that.” I feel the heat radiating on my neck. Oh what I wouldn’t do to take back the last five minutes of my life.

“Like what?” He is challenging me.

“Like, ‘I like to see you wet.’ It is completely uncalled for.”

He looks back at me with an amused grin. “Well, then, my apologies. And if it makes you feel better, you look much better dry and tepid.”

“Dry and tep—” My mouth stops midsentence. I can feel my ears turn red and my eyes furrow. Does this man really just say whatever comes to his head? And what does that mean…? Dry and tepid! Was that a dig at my personality? He’ll claim it’s not.

“Relax, Kathryn.”

Oh, we’re on a first name basis now.

“Relax?” My question is more of a rant than a concern. “You are the most diabolical man I have ever come across. You say whatever comes to your mind, not caring if it’s mean, crass, inappropriate…” I begin a mini pace back and forth in the elevator.

Asher enjoys the floorshow.

“You hit on me in an elevator, knowing full well that I am your employee, then ogle my breasts through my wet shirt, and take the next opportunity you have to discuss my being wet in an elevator…” I run my hand over the back of my neck. “And then there was that scene at the museum. You just walked away. Who does that?” I throw my hands up in aggravation.

“You have yet to approve any of my proposals. I mean, at this point, I’d prefer to hear you tell me they’re complete shit than have you utterly ignore me. It’s belittling and degrading.”

Oh, I’m on a roll. For someone who bites her tongue, I have finally found my voice.

My pace quickens and my hands move freely in front of me like an old-school Italian accenting every word with a dramatic gesture. “You want to play puppet master. You want to hold the strings and have all the control. Meanwhile, there are people upstairs who work hard and diligently who deserve your attention, and you disregard them because of someone else’s report.”

“What are you talking about? Who am I disregarding?” Of course that got his attention.

He’s staring at me with a look of confusion and concern. Oh, what a hole I’ve just dug for myself.

“Kathryn.” His voice is stern and determined. Leaning forward, Asher puts his hand on my arm, halting my movements. I look up into his perfectly sculpted face as he arches his eyebrows. “Tell me.”

Oh, what’s the use? I already dug my own grave. I might as well lie in it.

“Why did you deny Trish a raise?”

His hand still on my arm, Asher looks at me quizzically, as if he just can’t seem to understand what I’m saying. At this moment, I realize how close he’s standing to me. I can feel his breath on my skin and the heat radiating from his arm on mine.

Asher’s mouth opens to say something when a buzzing noise sounds from the speaker on the elevator panel.

“This is Asher Security. We registered that the stop button has been activated in your car. Is everything okay?”

Asher releases my gaze but keeps his hand on my arm.

“This is Alexander Asher. Yes, everything is okay. There seems to be a computer glitch with the cab. Please override the system and return us to the lobby. I’d like this car retired for the rest of the day, and have someone take a look at the control panel.”

“Yes, Mr. Asher. We’ll have you moving momentarily.” The speaker is silent once again.

Thank God this enigmatic man is so quick on his feet. Bad enough I’ll have to endure the embarrassment and office gossip that will follow being stuck in an elevator with the big boss… a week after a recent outburst, no less. At least I have a valid story to go with why we’re stuck in here. No one has to know I pulled the trigger.

Asher’s eyes look back at me. He’s still holding on to me when the elevator starts to move again. When he finally releases me, I take a moment to check my appearance. From the reflection in the door, I catch Asher staring at me, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looks out of sorts. I want to thank him for what he said to security, and I also want to find out why he denied Trish her due.

But I don’t say a word.

I don’t know what I expected when we arrive at the lobby. Hoards of people waiting for the elevator, police, fireman, the media! Instead, and thankfully, the elevator doors open to a seemingly empty space. What did I expect? There are five other elevators.

Chin up and hands at my side, I make my way out of the building and down the block before I even remember where it is I was going in the first place.

I slam my keys on the side entry table as soon I walk through the door. It seems I slammed the door a little too hard too.

“Are you okay, Ms. Kathryn?” Carmen comes running to the entryway, Jackson in arm.

I reach over to grab the angelic little bundle. “Yes, sorry.”

Carmen grabs my purse from my shoulder and sets it, delicately, on the table next to my keys. Grabbing my hand, she says, “Come Ms. Kathryn. You work too hard. You try to be good wife, good mother, and good worker.” Ushering me into the kitchen, Carmen pulls out a chair. “You rest your feet. Carmen will take care.”

I do as Carmen suggests and seat myself, propping Jackson on the table. He babbles and laughs at my funny faces as piles of drool fall onto his bib.

“You like sardines, Ms. Kathryn?” Carmen calls from inside the refrigerator door as she produces a large bowl. “I make chicharron with pepesca.”

She leans down to show me the bowl in her hands. The little fish with their heads still attached look up at me.

“Uh, no thank you, Carmen. I’m full.” I smile up at her as she retrieves the bowl. Besides, I was thinking Gabriel might want Chinese tonight. I lean over and give Jackson a raspberry on the side of his neck.

“Mr. Gabriel called. He has a dinner tonight in the city. He tells me to prepare something for you.” She places the bowl back in the refrigerator and turns around.

Did he tell me he had a dinner tonight? He may have, but after yesterday’s argument, I was so mad he could have told me they found aliens in our backyard and I wouldn’t have listened to him. Then again, I went right to bed last night, so he probably didn’t tell me out of spite.

I put Jackson down and walk toward the entryway. Picking up my purse off the table, I search for my phone. Flipping it open, I look to see if I have any missed calls. None. The last call I received was earlier from Harvey telling me he’d be a few minutes late for our meeting.

“Carmen,” I call, “what time did Gabriel call?”

Carmen replies from the kitchen, “Around two o’clock.”

I was in the office at that time. He should have called my desk. He has my number. I place my bag back on the table and make my way toward the kitchen.

“You should go home. You worked hard today. I think I’ll take Jackson to the park and then we’ll have some of that delicious meal you made for us.” I’m lying. There’s no way I’m eating those little heads.

Carmen appraises me for a moment and then makes her decision. “Yes, Ms. Kathryn. I see you Monday.” She grabs her tote from the closet and slings it around her shoulder.

I watch her walk down the street until she gets to the corner and then gather mine and Jackson’s things to go for a walk ourselves.

Jackson and I take a stroll around the park and stop near a grassy knoll. Grabbing a blanket from under the stroller, I open it and spread it out on the ground. The sun is just about to set, so I take Jackson out of his stroller to let him play on the blanket. I know it’s getting late, but it’s the only time I have my little angel these days. Our nights are our special time.

I stretch out my legs and try to pull the grass off my heels. I should have changed into sneakers before venturing onto the dirt terrain. As I’m scratching dirt off the bottom of my shoe, I hear a woman’s voice.

“Is that Jack?”

I look up to see a blonde woman jogging up the hill. Very blonde and very fit. She looks younger than me, but not by much. Her hair is swung up in a ponytail and her very yellow Nike tank is clinging to her like a second skin. Her shorts are also very short.

Everything about her is very.

Jackson looks up and squeals with recognition. This is very odd.

“I thought I recognized this little guy!” she says, panting and pulling earbuds out of her ears.

I reach over for Jackson and swing him onto my lap. This mama bear is protecting her cub from the platinum lioness. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

She laughs and places her hands on her knees, still catching her breath. “I’m friends with Jack and his daddy.”

I glare up at her and dart my eyes at the vixen in yellow. “You know Gabe?”

“Oh!” She looks surprised, her gaze settling on my left hand. “You’re his wife?”

I slowly nod my head yes.

“I’m sorry.” She continues. “I didn’t know he was married. You’re so young. I thought you were the babysitter.”

Babysitter would be flattering if I weren’t still wearing my work clothes. In this case, it’s just laughable, and not in a funny way.

Staring blankly at this woman, I appraise her. Blonde, tan, young, and fit. I don’t know her, but clearly my husband and child know her. I look down to see Jackson smiling up. I wish I could telepathically tell him to scowl at her. My little cub is falling prey to the predator.

My mouth finds a way to catch up to my thoughts. “Who are you?”

In the upmost cheerful way she could possibly reply, she says, “I’m Becca!”

Of course she is. Not to judge, but she really doesn’t look like a Maude or an Arlene. She looks like she should have two pompoms in her hands and be doing the splits. Again, I’m not judging. Just observing.

“I’m sorry… Becca?” I stand and gather my blanket and baby.

“Yes, Jack and I see each other every Saturday. Isn’t that right, buddy?” She shines a luminous smile that shows either her skin is too tan or she uses way too many whitening strips.

If Gwen were here, she would tell me to stop judging and make a friend with this woman. I guess I could. She looks friendly enough. A little too friendly, but if Gabriel knows her, then she can’t be that bad.

“Jackson and I are here all the time. Surprised we haven’t run into you before.”

Becca looks up at the setting sun and then back at me, bouncing on her toes to keep moving. “Oh, no, this is an early run for me. I’m usually out here later than this. I like to run with the wolves, you know.”

We live in a nice neighborhood, but a pretty girl like her running at night is not a good idea. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

Becca gives me a half smile. “That’s what Gabriel said. He runs with me sometimes. Keeps the wolves away.”

My body halts for a second at the realization of her words. I don’t want to make assumptions but isn’t it odd for a married man to be running with a pretty blonde? Then again, I’m not a runner so I have no idea what runner’s etiquette is. I lower Jackson into the stroller and buckle him in. “Jackson and I need to go. It’s getting late.”

“Of course. Jack needs his book, bath, and bottle, right?”

I just stare at her, dumbfounded. The lioness shuffles from one foot to the other, trying to bring her heart rate back up. “Peace out, cub scouts! It was great meeting you. Later, Jack!”

Off she goes into the wild. Who was that woman? Maybe I shouldn’t be so skeptical. She’s probably very nice.

Oh, who am I kidding? I hate her.

I hate her blonde hair, her tan skin, her toned abs, and the fact she calls my kid “Jack.”