by Gemma Weir
The effect is almost immediate. My muscles relax one by one and my busy mind slows until all I’m thinking about is the inhale and exhale of my breath and if I can be bothered to walk to my bed or if I should just lay down on the couch beneath me.
I take another drag from the pen, savoring the clean lemony taste before exhaling slowly. Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t had to drop out of school. If I hadn’t ever found the Sinners. But that life never existed and I’m both happy and sad at the same time. I love my brothers. I love the club and the family it’s given me. I don’t think I’d change anything even if I had my time over.
The weed does exactly what I need it to, my mind gradually slowing until my limbs feel tired and I drag my ass to my bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
Relocating is a massive pain in the butt.
When my plane lands, I pull my two huge bags from the carousel and load them onto a metal airport trolley. It weighs a ton and I feel like a bodybuilder pushing it into the arrivals hall, while looking out for a driver with a sign with my name on. When I spot him, I sigh, rolling my eyes at my luck at getting a geriatric driver. If my driver had been a young, fit guy, I’d have totally handed over my weighty trolley and let him bring it to the car, but the man holding the sign with my name on is probably closer to seventy and I can’t have his bad back on my conscience.
“Hi, I’m Riley Prince,” I say, smiling warmly, while still internally cursing his age.
“Hello, Miss Prince, my name is Al. Can I take your bags?”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m all loaded up, you just lead the way,” I say, gesturing with my arm for him to walk ahead.
Al raises his eyebrows at me but dips his chin and walks slowly toward the exit. Using all of the strength in my arms, I force the trolley to move and slowly pace behind, my arms braced to keep the momentum. I take two steps before I somehow clip the trolley wheel with my foot and then I’m falling, the trolley rolling freely away.
I manage to catch myself on my arms before my face hits the floor, but the impact of the fall jolts my shoulders and I grunt. Staring at the still moving trolley, I have visions of it careening into the group of nuns stood in the arrivals lounge, knocking them down like pins at a bowling alley. Al effortlessly reaches out and stops the trolley, then turns it as if it weighs nothing and pushes it back to me. He smirks as he looms above me, the trolley at his side and his hand held out to help me up.
“Thank you,” I say, as I take his offered hand and let him pull me from the floor.
“You’re welcome, Miss. How ‘bout I push this now? Seems as you’re not quite as loaded up as you thought.”
I blink up at him and find his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“You’re a bit of a smartass, aren’t you, Al?” I say, shaking my head slightly as the older man maneuvers the trolley with ease.
“That’s what my wife’s been telling me for the past thirty years,” he replies, laughter clear in his voice.
It only takes us a few minutes to reach the car and Al loads my bags into the trunk, then holds opens the door for me to climb into the back seat. “Do you mind if I sit up front?” I ask.
He looks at me, his brow furrowed. “Miss Prince, clients are supposed to sit in the back.”
“I’m sure they are, Al, but this is my first time in Houston and if I’m up front, I’ll actually be able to see the sights.”
Al chuckles good-naturedly. “Okay, sure. But if anyone asks, you sat in the back.”
“Yes, sir,” I tell him, as I pull open the passenger door and climb into the front of the black town car.
“Mr. Winters gave orders to either take you to the office or your hotel. Your choice, Miss Prince.”
“Hotel please. I need to ditch my stuff then I’ll head into the office. But please call me Riley, Miss Prince sounds weird.”
“Okay then, Riley, hotel it is.”
“Are you employed by Winters Inc?” I ask.
“I’m Mr. Winters personal driver,” Al says, his eyes fixed on the traffic ahead of us.
“Oh,” I reply. Pierre did say that Winters had backed the business with his own money, so I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise to find that a man with that much wealth keeps a driver on retainer.
At my request, Al takes the scenic route to my hotel and I’m surprised to find that the city is beautiful. My inner wanderlust, which only ever comes out on my first day in a new place, itches to explore. But right now, I need to check into my hotel, ditch my stuff in my room, then go into Winters Inc. They’re not paying me all the money they’re paying me to play Texas tourist.
Al follows me to the reception desk with my bags, handing them off to a bellboy.
“Shall I come and collect you in the morning to take you into the office, Miss Prince?” Al asks.
“Riley,” I correct him. “I was actually planning on going into the office once I’ve dumped my stuff in my room.”
“Okay, Miss. Well, I’ll wait outside for you and take you in whenever you’re ready.”
“No, that’s fine. I can walk or take a cab or whatever,” I garble out.
“Mr. Winters has assigned me as your driver while you’re working for Winters Inc. It would be my pleasure to drive you into the office.”
“Oh, err, yeah, err, okay. Sure, I suppose. Well, yeah, just let me quickly dump my stuff and I’ll be straight back down,” I say, my cheeks stained red and my voice flustered and unsure.
“Riley,” Al says.
“Yes?” I say, looking up into his warm, weathered face.
“Take as long as you need. I’ll be down here waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Pulling in a deep, slow calming breath, I nod. “Thank you.”
He smiles, then turns and walks back toward the entrance doors. I watch him go for a moment, then look back to the lady who’s waiting patiently to serve me. Five minutes later, the bellboy pushes open a door to a beautiful and spacious hotel room. I walk past him into the room, admiring the impressive view of the Houston skyline as he brings my bags in and sets them down on the luggage stand.
I tip the bellboy, thanking him, before he leaves the room with a congenial smile. Sinking down onto the huge soft bed, I exhale and try to take a second to breathe. From the moment I agreed to take the consulting position, the last few days have been a whirlwind of activity. Packing for two months is hard and time consuming; telling my family and roommate that I was going to be relocating to Texas for a while was even more stressful. I wish I could have just gotten everyone onto one huge video chat and told them all at once about this job opportunity, and about how I had to be on site at their offices for the duration of the contract. But unfortunately, that didn’t happen, so I had the same exact conversation with each person, explaining over and over and answering the same questions ten different times.
Bracing my hands on my knees, I push upright and cross the room to my bags. Opening one, I find it filled with a mix of casual clothes, and computer equipment wrapped in bubble wrap. I always travel with my main laptop in my backpack, but my other stuff I was forced to package up and put in my case. Abandoning that case, I move to the other, opening it to reveal the few ‘work appropriate’ clothes I own. The best thing about being a freelance coder is that I can work from anywhere, and I do. It just so happens that most the time my ‘anywhere’ is either my bed or the couch.
Business suits and dresses would feel a tad out of place to sit in bed all day, so my workwear consists of pajamas and yoga pants with the odd pair of men’s track pants thrown into the mix when I’m having a fat day.
Business casual was another reason why I never enjoyed my foray into the world of corporate. I don’t work well when I’m uncomfortable. Pulling out a pair of skinny black jeans, I pair it with a white t-shirt that says #geekchic on the front, and as my concession to the business part of business casual I grab my only black blazer to wear over my shirt. Dropping the clothes onto the bed beside me, I head for the bat
hroom and freshen up, ridding myself of as much airplane air as I can without taking a shower. I quickly get dressed and pack my purse with everything I think I’ll need for my first visit to Winters Inc.
I’m not at all sure what to expect from the company. I know they’re a fairly new start-up with big dreams and an owner with deep pockets, but this is my first time acting as a consultant and my first time in a customer’s office base. The money I’ll earn from this contract will be great, but as I close my hotel door behind me and make my way to the lifts in chunky black flat boots, I’m glad that I always make Pierre write me a ‘get out of jail free’ clause in all of my contracts. If I hate the company or the staff, or anything, I can walk away from them without looking back.
The elevator arrives a second after I press the button to call it, and I enter, staring at my reflection looking back at me on the mirrored walls. My hair is brown and a little too long. I have my sisters’ face, but geeky black-framed glasses define my own. Freckles cover my nose and dot along the top of my cheekbones.
My jeans make my already long legs look even longer and the blazer fits snugly in all the right places. I look good, but I don’t feel like me. I look like my sisters. As one of a set of three identical triplets I should be used to this feeling, but I’m not. Our personalities are so different that I sometimes forget that we all have the same face.
The conversation I had with my parents when I told them about this consulting position flashes through my mind.
Mom answers the phone on the second ring, her voice warm and so familiar that a pang of homesickness forms in my stomach.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hi, Mom,”
“Riley, how are you, sweetheart?”
I have no idea how she knows it’s me rather than one of my sisters; we all sound exactly the same over the phone and I know she doesn’t have caller ID. “I’m good thanks, Mom, how are you and Dad?”
“Oh, we’re fine. Your father is going golfing this afternoon and I have plans with Ann-Marie.”
“Cool,” I say, psyching myself up to tell my mom about my temporary relocation.
“What is it, what’s happened?” Mom asks, her voice a little frantic.
“Nothing bad,” I assure her. “Err, I actually just called to let you know that Greg and I broke up and to tell you about a new contract I’ve taken.”
“What happened with Greg?” Mom asks, her voice suddenly full of concern.
“You were right, Mom, he wasn’t the one for me.” I say simply, not wanting to go into details and tell my mom that my boyfriend had been cheating on me with anything and everything with a vagina.
“I’m sorry, Riley,” she says, her voice soft.
“You hated him, Mom.”
“I didn’t hate him; he just wasn’t good enough for you. But I never want you to be hurt or sad. You know that, don’t you, honey?”
“I know, Mom. I’ll be okay.”
“Of course you will. Now tell me about this new contract.”
“It’s a consulting role, in a start-up gaming company.”
“Well that’s great, sweetie. Do you think it could lead to a permanent job?” she asks excitedly.
Sighing, I try not to let her hear my exhale. “I’m not interested in taking a permanent role, Mom. If I wanted one, I’ve had plenty of offers; but you know that I like to freelance.”
“I know, Riley. It’s just that I worry about you. New York is an expensive place to live and with the economy the way it is…” She trails off and I try not to let her concern and disappointment affect me.
“This contract would actually mean me getting out of New York for a while. The company is based in Houston and they want me on site. That’s why I was calling, to let you know that I’m not going to be home for the next couple of months.”
“But I thought you were planning a visit home? Your sister’s pregnancy is over halfway though and you haven’t visited yet,” Mom says, the admonishment clear in her voice.
“I had planned to take some time off, but this is a great opportunity for me, and a consultancy position will look great on my resume.”
Mom sighs and I can hear the weight of her disappointment even in her audible exhale. “Well, I suppose you’re right and I’m sure your sister won’t mind you not coming to see her. You didn’t visit during her last pregnancy, so she won’t miss you this time either.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep quiet. There’s no point arguing with her or trying to make her understand that I’m not deliberately delaying my visit. My mom’s unending disappointment in me is so deep-rooted that I think it probably started the day they brought the three of us home. It’s not that she doesn’t love me, she absolutely does; she’s my mom in every way possible. It’s more that she had expectations of me and my sisters and as far as she’s concerned, I’m not living up to my full potential.
I could easily choose to become resentful and morose about this, but the truth of the matter is that my mom and I will never agree on what the right life choices are for me. We love each other in spite of our differences and until I move home and take a full-time corporate position within a blue-chip company, which I never plan to do, she won’t feel like I’m a success.
“The contract is only for two months, so I should have some time before my next project starts to be able to visit with Tiff before the baby comes.”
“Well okay, sweetie, you do whatever you think is best,” Mom says.
Rolling my eyes, I try not to laugh. “The company are paying for either a hotel or a short-term rental for me, so I’ll let you know where I am once I get settled.”
“Okay, honey. I love you and I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you too.”
The elevator dings, heralding its arrival in the lobby. Taking one last look at my reflection, I step out and head toward the exit. I might look like my sisters, but I’m not a brainiac like Anna or a nurturer like Tiff. I am a kick-ass coder. I’m good at my job and that’s why I’m here. That’s why Dan Winters is paying me a small fortune to be here. Buoyed, I stand up a little straighter and pull back my shoulders. I’ve got this. Being on site with a customer might be a little out of my comfort zone, and wearing real clothes and not yoga pants or pajamas might be unusual for me, but I can do this. Winters Inc is lucky to have me and I’m totally gonna rock this consultancy job.
With my head held high and a newfound confidence in my stride, I strut past the desk, smiling to the bellboy as I pass. The mirrored wall to my left catches my attention and I take a moment to admire how badass I look stomping through this hotel. I don’t see the occasional table with the array of leaflets on it until it’s too late. My knee hits the corner and my ankle buckles, the floor races toward me faster than I can save myself and with a thud I land in a heap on the cool tile.
I close my eyes and assess what hurts; there’s nothing except my pride.
My mom would be so fucking proud.
Scraping myself up off the floor, I roll back my shoulders and try not to make eye contact with anyone who just saw my epic fall. I keep my eyes forward and walk straight out of the hotel doors until I find the shiny black town car and Al.
“Miss Prince, are you ready to go into the office, or can I take you somewhere else?” Al says when he spots me and rushes to open the rear door.
“It’s Riley,” I scold him playfully. “But not in the back, Al, don’t make me sit in the back.”
He sighs, “Clients are supposed to sit on the back seat.”
“But if I’m in the front, I get to see the city and talk to you,” I say with puppy-dog eyes and a pout.
His responding smile lets me know I’ve won. He indulgently shakes his head at me as he closes the rear door and opens the front one, holding it for me while I slide inside.
“So, to the office, or somewhere else?” He asks.
“Office please,” I reply.
“Okay then,” he says, as he seamlessly pulls into
the stream of downtown traffic.
Al points out places of interest as we drive through the busy Houston streets, and I try to make a mental note of places I want to visit as soon as I get some down time. The journey is over quickly, and Al slows to a stop outside an impressive looking glass and chrome building.
“We’re here,” Al says.
“Fuck me,” I whisper beneath my breath.
Al chuckles, “Winters Inc, is part of Winters Corp.”
“Okay,” I say, dragging out the word, hoping that he will expand on that very ambiguous comment.
“Winters Corp is owned by Lambert Winters.”
“Holy shit,” I say as recognition dawns on me.
Al smiles and nods.
“And Dan Winters is…” I trail off, waiting for Al to fill in the gaps
“His son.”
“Fuck.”
“Come on, Riley. Let me escort you up to the Winters Inc offices.”
When Al exits the car, I place my suddenly sweaty palms on my knees and squeeze. Lambert Winters, fucking Lambert Winters, one of the richest men alive. He’s made the Forbes 400 every year since forever. And now I’m going to be working for his son.
Why didn’t I research this company properly? I’ve become too reliant on Pierre, too complacent, and now look where I am. Being escorted to the offices of the son of one of the wealthiest, most influential men in America.
Nerves take over my body and all of a sudden, I feel woefully underdressed and underprepared. Looking over my shoulder, I seriously consider making a run for it. Al’s old, I could outrun him. But before I have a chance to formulate my escape route, it’s too late and we’re in front of a smoked glass vestibule with a perfectly polished and gleaming sign with Winters Inc engraved into it.
My window of opportunity has passed. I’m stuck here, and now I have to go meet Dan Winters and pretend that his family’s money and status isn’t at all intimidating. Yeah right, like that’s even possible.
I let Al guide me through the door and past an intimidatingly modern looking reception desk, complete with hostile looking receptionist. As we walk around a corner, the buzz of keyboards clicking, the low hum of chatter, and the unmistakable sound of artificial gunfire hits me. These are the sounds of my people and for a second the knot of apprehension in my gut starts to unravel.
