My thighs ache when I take the second turn. The incline isn’t even that steep yet, but I’m slightly out of shape. It’s been days since I’ve gotten any kind of real exercise, and I’m feeling it in each leg muscle.
I think back to the night before, remembering how little Mr. Mulroney’s face gave away when I turned down his offer for a drink. I laugh out loud and shake my head.
Last night’s dreams were Simon Mulroney free. It’s a good sign, I’m sure. I’m moving past any sort of preoccupation with the man and clearing him from my consciousness.
I work on focusing on my feet while I walk and ignore any more thoughts that come up. The heat rises from the ground in steaming tendrils, swirling around me. The sun feels delicious on my arms, and I’m glad I got out so early. Being under the blaring sun at noon would be nearly unbearable.
By the time I get to Inspiration Point, I’m huffing. Several women in bikini tops and short shorts jog by me, flashing their abs of steel. I grin and bear it, holding back the exhaustion for another minute.
The bench is free, so I plop down onto it. Below the overlook, the city stretches out, buildings pushing all the way to the horizon. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Everything about this morning feels lighter and freer than the entire last five days.
I can only hope the feeling lasts when I get to work on Monday.
Against my thigh, my phone buzzes. I wrestle it out of my pocket and take a look. Laughing, I swipe the answer button.
“Well, hello,” I coo.
“Hello yourself,” Lee responds, her voice comically low.
“What’s that? Are you supposed to be a man?”
She laughs and I feel a wave of homesickness. “I’m not really sure, actually.”
“I thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth.”
My best friend laughs. “Hardly. I’ve just been chained in the middle of The Fish Shack’s dining room.”
“Yikes. Do they at least feed you?”
“They did, but fried flounder gets old after a while, you know? The worst part is the shame. Everyone can come there and see me. They keep the chain tied to a collar around my neck, and on game nights, they let the rival team throw rotting vegetables at me.”
I laugh again. Eight years as friends and Lee still manages to lift me up each time she opens her mouth.
“God, Lee, what the hell?” I ask between spurts of giggles. “That is messed up.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” She’s not, though. I can practically hear the grin on her face.
“So how are things in old Manteo?”
“What do you think? Basically the same. Everyone asks me about you, like, every single shift.”
I crinkle my nose and push my sunglasses tighter against my face. “Really?”
“Really. They think you’re already majorly successful. They want to know if your first film has a release date yet.”
“Why? Just because I haven’t come back?”
“Yep. Precisely.”
“Ha. Well, I only just got out of school, so there’s still plenty of time left to fail.”
“Hey, as long as you don’t come back here, everyone’s going to think you’re a big time director.”
I pull my legs up onto the wooden bench, crossing them. “If only it were so easy.”
“How’s your new job?”
I open my mouth to answer, about to tell her about Mr. Mulroney, then hesitate. Now that I’ve committed to the decision to basically ignore him, everything is so much less complicated. In fact, I don’t even need to talk about it anymore. It’s old news. It’s time to focus on the good and what’s to come.
“It’s nice,” I answer. “It’s just office work, but I’m on one of the biggest studio lots in the world, working for the head of the company.”
“Wow,” she breathes. “It sounds kind of intense.”
I give that some thought. “Not as intense as it should be. My boss is a no show half the time, so it’s not as stressful as I think it would be in another studio office.”
“Hey, that’s pretty sweet. Are you learning anything?”
“It’s a little soon to say. Does how to live without any view from the window count?”
“Definitely. And at least the job is something to put on your resume.”
“Right.” I nod, though she obviously can’t see me.
“Oh my gosh,” Lee gasps. “Guess who I saw yesterday?”
“Who?” I ask, glancing over at the young couple just arriving at the overlook. They clasp hands and stare out at the view, their backs turned to me. The scene is sweet and sickening at the same time.
“Brendan.”
I don’t say anything. The name comes with waves upon waves of connotations, and I’m a little too busy drowning underneath them all to respond.
“Sydney? Did you hear me? I saw Brendan.”
I clear my throat. “Cool,” I feebly respond.
Her voice grows lower, uncertain. “Should I not have told you?”
“No,” I quickly say. “It’s fine.”
“He asked about you.”
I play with the hem of my shorts while staring down at my lap. Lee’s announcement is unexpected, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. If you want to get cheesy about the whole thing, you could call Brendan my high school sweetheart. We dated for four years, including the first two I was away at school in California.
It’s been almost a year since I saw him, and it did not go well. Even though we’d been broken up for a while, I still left the house party in Manteo a complete wreck after seeing him there with another girl.
Details? Okay. I drunkenly cried in the back of Lee’s car while she drove me to her mom’s house where I then fell asleep on the living room floor — still crying over Brendan.
And we hadn’t even said much. It had just been a simple, “Hi, how are you?” and a “Good. How are you?”
But just like that, old wounds had been opened up.
Sometimes, when I allowed myself time to think about it, I wondered why Brendan and I broke up in the first place. Distance was an issue, of course. And sometimes it seemed we just didn’t have much in common anymore.
Sometimes I think that I was too pushy. I wanted him to move out to California, and it was clear he wasn’t feeling the idea. Perhaps if I had just given him his space, we would have eventually come to some kind of agreement. Instead, I brought it up all the time until the weight of the decision just hung over our heads like a heavy cloud, discoloring every conversation we had.
Really, couldn’t we have made it work if we tried? Obviously, as of a year ago, I was still in love with the guy.
“What did you say?” I ask Lee, my voice cracking slightly.
“I told him you just got a job at a movie studio. He seemed really impressed. He’s working at a construction company now.”
I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to ask the question I’m burning to. In the end, I go ahead and ask it. “How did he look?”
“How did he look?” Lee hesitates. “Um… good. Really good. He’s really filled out. He’s got all these muscles now.”
“Oh.”
Crap, I shouldn’t have asked. Now I want to know even more.
“I wish I could come visit you,” Lee sullenly says.
I sit up straighter, glad for the change in topics. “You can. You should totally come!”
“Plane tickets are so expensive.”
I slump back against the wooden boards. “Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe in the fall.”
“How about you just move here?” I ask, half-serious. “Then you’d only have to get a one-way ticket.”
“What would I do there?”
“The same thing you do in Manteo, except in L.A. The only difference is that it would be better here.”
Lee laughs. “How? How would it be better?”
“I’d be here, for one.”
“True.”
“Also, there’s just so mu
ch more to do here.”
“Hm,” Lee murmurs. “I believe that. It’s just…”
“What?” I press, holding my breath.
“My family is here. And most of my friends.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Suddenly I don’t feel like Lee’s Best Friend Forever anymore. I feel like just another friend. It’s not like we share two parts of the same heart shaped necklace or twin woven bracelets we made together at summer camp, but we’ve been calling each other “my other half” for years now.
Though, come to think of it, it’s been months since that term escaped my lips.
When did things change?
“Don’t you ever get bored to death?” I ask.
“Sure. But it feels good to be close to everyone, you know? Here you can walk down the street and know the names of half the people you pass. And the other half of the people you at least recognize.”
I glance over at the couple leaving, knowing in most likelihood I’ll never see them again. “Yeah, it’s different here,” I agree.
“But I still want to visit some time.”
“That would be awesome.”
“Hey, so… when I see Brendan again, what do you want me to tell him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know…” She pauses. “Are you still into him?”
I stare at the scraggly bushes near the bench and chew at a loose cuticle on my thumb. “I don’t know. It’s been a year since I’ve even seen him.”
She blows out a breath, causing static to crackle over the line. “I know.”
“Even if I were into him, it wouldn’t matter.”
She pauses. “What if he wanted you back? Would you move home for him?”
I jerk my chin back. It’s such an odd question, and I’m getting the feeling she wants me to say yes.
“No.” I examine the answer and nod at the rightness of it. “I can’t have the career I want there. I need to be in Los Angeles. It’s my only option.”
“Okay.” She sounds slightly disappointed.
I bite the edge of my thumbnail, then realize what I’m doing and drop my hand in my lap. “Just tell him I said hi, will you?”
“Definitely. You know, I think you guys were a great couple.”
I smirk. “I know. You tell me that all the time. But I’m here now.”
“Yeah, a million miles away.”
“It’s not quite that far.” I chuckle.
“It feels like it,” she says with a sad laugh that makes my heart hurt. “Okay. I gotta go. I’m helping set up Anne-Marie’s baby shower.”
“She’s pregnant?” I nearly shriek, thinking of the friend who was in the same high school class as us.
“Sure is.”
“Damn. Didn’t she just get married?”
“Six months ago.”
I slowly shake my head, the whole concept of being married and expecting a baby at twenty-two completely foreign. Anne-Marie’s whole life is now planned out in front of her. She knows which man she’ll sleep with for the rest of her days and what will be expected out of her: changing diapers and driving to soccer practice.
The idea of committing that much to one way of living freaks me out.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Lee says. “Bye, Sydney.”
“Okay. Bye.”
She hangs up and I drop the phone in my lap, my head reeling from the conversation.
Lee was right about one thing. Being in L.A. does feel like being a million miles away from home. Every time I get online or talk with someone back in North Carolina, the divide becomes clearer and clearer. The people I’ve grown up with are all moving in new directions.
It’s strange and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. I miss home, but I also hate the place.
Married, with a baby on the way.
A shudder goes down my back. I feel luckier than ever before to be following my dreams. Let everyone else do the same. If Anne-Marie is happy, good for her.
Talking with Lee just happened to make me even more aware of the fact that I’m right where I need to be.
And that thing about Brendan… I hug my knees up to my chest.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper to myself. “It was a lifetime ago.”
With that settled, I stand and stretch. Sitting in front of me is an area containing about eighteen and a half million people and countless opportunities.
One incorrigible boss is a detail. Friends drifting apart is normal. And the only boy I ever loved is in the past.
The future is mine to make. It’s cheesy, but it’s true, and so I’ll take it.
*
Monday morning, I arrive at work fifteen minutes early, so I wait in my car until a few minutes before I need to go in. I don’t want to run into Mr. Mulroney again in an empty office. I have no interest in it just being the two of us alone ever again.
Two big white grip trucks pass by while I’m sitting staring out over the windshield. I watch them with longing. They disappear around the corner of the nearest building, headed for the backlot.
I purse my lips. So close and yet so far. What I wouldn’t give to be working on the backlot, where the actual sets are, or someplace out on location.
Instead, I’m in an office. I know I should be grateful for the job. If I somehow manage to keep walking the razor’s edge with Mr. Mulroney, then I’ll hopefully be out of the confines of four walls sometime soon. Pissing him off won’t keep me at the company.
Too bad I have morals.
If I didn’t, I could just screw him and maybe get a promotion. Now that would truly be killing two birds with one stone.
Smirking to myself, I climb out of the car and head for the office. Chuck is going in through the front door, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, dark circles under his eyes.
“Hey,” I say.
He mumbles something indistinguishable while holding the door open for me. We go down the hallway, falling into step beside each other. He looks like he’s about to fall over.
“Tired?” I ask.
“Ugh,” he grunts.
Daniel and Dana are at their desks. They’re both busy on their computers, looking like good little workers, so that’s got to mean Mr. Mulroney is in. I swallow the lump in my throat and go hang my backpack on the hook.
“Coffee?” Dana asks. She hands me a paper cup from the paper carrier on her desk.
“Wow, thanks.” I smile at her and take the offered drink.
“So.” Dana takes in a long breath, and the room collectively flinches, preparing for whatever announcement is coming next. “Lots of meetings today,” she says. “And the first one is in the office in an hour.” She looks at me. “Sydney. That means you get the very special job of tidying up.”
I feebly smile.
“This building has a janitor,” Chuck points out.
Dana ignores the comment. “The windows need to be cleaned, the shelves dusted, and the plants’ leaves trimmed.” She rolls her eyes. “Sorry. This isn’t me talking. It’s You-Know-Who.”
Voldemort.
I set my coffee down on the desk top. Did Mr. Mulroney specifically say I needed to clean the office? Is this my punishment for not taking him up on his offer Friday night?
Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m the new girl, after all.
I force myself to smile. “I’m on it.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’m down on my hands and knees, scrubbing at a questionable stain beneath the window. Questionable meaning two things. One: what exactly is it? And two: will it ever come up?
So many mysteries… and so much time to ponder them while I stare at the sponge moving back and forth over the white paint.
A door opens, but I keep scrubbing, just doing my job as told.
“What is she doing on the floor?” Mr. Mulroney’s voice asks.
I clench my eyes shut and slow down the rubbing, waiting for the worst of it to come flying from his lips.
“Cl
eaning,” Dana says. “Mr. Murakami is coming in a few minutes.”
A short silence. “Hm. Send some bottled water in. For some reason, the fridge is empty.”
A door closes.
“Shit,” Dana hisses.
I straighten up, my back creaking in protest. “What?”
“I’m an idiot,” she whispers. “I forgot to stock his fridge last night.”
I wish I could say it’s no big deal; it’s just water. But we all know with Mr. Mulroney, everything is a big deal.
“Will you go to the front desk and get some?” she asks me. “And hurry. Mr. Murakami will be here any second.”
“Okay.” I grab the cleaning bucket and rush out of the room, suddenly excited. I had no idea the person coming was Murakami. My job suddenly seems really good again.
Maybe his wife mentioned me when he came home that night and read the script. Maybe she told him how “impressive,” “bright”, or “eager” I was. Or maybe she said, “The girl has nice bangs.” I don’t care, as long as she said something positive about me.
I practically throw the bucket into the water closet. About to rush to the front desk, I realize my hands smell like cleaning product. The scent will get on anything I touch.
“Damn,” I whisper, hopping across the hall for the bathroom.
I scrub my skin as fast as I can and then wipe my hands on my jeans while I push the door open. I look down and see two large, wet hand prints across my thighs.
“Damn, damn,” I curse, running back into the bathroom, grabbing paper towels, and making an attempt to blot my jeans dry. Halfway through the process, I deem them to be good enough and toss the paper towels in the trash.
I power walk to the receptionist desk.
“Hey,” I say to Stacey. “Do you have bottled water? I need it ASAP for Mr. Mulroney.”
She looks up at me with her black rimmed eyes. “Yeah,” she says, taking eight years to say the single word. Like my request has just bored her to within an inch of her life.
Sorry to interrupt your game of solitaire, I want to say. I know she just sits there all day and plays games on the computer because I’ve caught her doing just that several times already.
Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 30
