Left Behind (Lost & Found #1)

by C. L. Stacey

  I’m out of breath by the time I reach Stephanie, who is now staring at me like I’m a creature from another planet.

  “When I said hurry back, I didn’t actually mean run,” she says, tossing papers down onto her cluttered desk.

  I shake my head frantically from side to side. “No!” I choke out, trying to form words.

  “No? What?” She tries to make sense of what I’m trying to tell her, and it drains me of the small window of time I have left to explain my side of the story to her.

  “Please don’t fire me! I—”

  “Fire you?” she interjects again. Then her eyes nearly pop from her head when Jackson appears at the doorway. “Jackson, what the hell happened to your lip?”

  He crosses the threshold, entering the office, and I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for not just Jackson’s reaction this time but Stephanie’s as well. “Your new girl’s got a mean right hook,” he outs me.

  I open my eyes, guiltily staring at Stephanie’s gaping face. “He scared me,” I say in my defense.

  “Yes, I did. It was my fault,” Jackson says, shocking the hell out of Stephanie and myself.

  Stephanie was the first to break the awkward silence. “So, you’re not here to demand that I fire her?”

  “Fire her?” he repeats her words back to her, then shakes his head. “No, Stephanie. I’m here to fire you.”

  “Fire me?” Her voice reaches a shout.

  “Can’t say that I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs. “I came here to put in a personal request. I’d like for Ms. Moore to re-do my wardrobe.”

  Stephanie’s eyes cut to me quickly, and I back up behind Jackson, shaking my head no, slicing my hands over my throat in a no-fucking-way motion. “I’ll do it,” she offers.

  “I don’t want you,” he rejects her immediately. “I just told you, I want Lexi.”

  Deep creases line her forehead when Stephanie’s brows bounce high. “That’s a pretty heavy request, Jackson. Like I told you, she is new, and I think it’s best if I spread her out evenly among my clients for now.”

  “I don’t,” he counters.

  Seeing Jackson for a single thirty-minute session was challenging enough. I don’t know how much more my patience can withstand. Seeing him regularly for the next couple weeks will surely force me to crack.

  I’m relieved by how adamant Stephanie is in trying to get me out of this. I’m just not confident she’ll win this one.

  “Jackson, you’re asking for too much. Lexi’s got a lot to learn—”

  “She can learn with me,” he interjects. “I want everything replaced, from accessories to suits. She’d be starting from scratch. I can’t think of a better way for her to learn your process, can you?”

  When Stephanie doesn’t offer an immediate comeback, my heart drops, because even I understand that he isn’t wrong in his argument. I need all the experience I can get if I plan to get far at all.

  Not that it’s necessary at this point, but Jackson adds another argument to strengthen his case. “This will mean a big commission for your company. Do you really want to turn me down?”

  Stephanie stalls while considering her client’s request, and I don’t blame her. She is a professional, a successful businesswoman, and Jackson is more than likely one of the reasons why this company has managed to hold its own against its competitors.

  My boss’s eyes cut to mine again with a less confident look—just as I suspected. I don’t even bother begging her for a way out anymore. Fighting Jackson is pointless; he obviously bends for no one.

  “Why are you so insistent on having her as your personal stylist?”

  It’s a fair question, one that only takes him half a second to consider. “I told you already. Everyone here is useless to me,” he simply states. “And that now includes you, too.”

  If I were Stephanie, that line would have broken my confidence. But I’m clearly not, because Stephanie doesn’t let a single frown line crease her flawless skin with that insult. Instead, she rolls her eyes at him, and then she laughs.

  LAUGHS.

  “Have it your way, Jackson.” She shakes her head at him before taking a seat in her chair. “I can’t assign her exclusively to you, though. We’ve got a ton of events coming up. Between all the premieres, award season, and with fashion week in a couple of months… I just can’t. So book her when you need her, but she’s mine for the rest of the time.” She shrugs in a take-it-or-leave-it kind of way.

  “Fine,” he agrees.

  No.

  “Fine,” she mirrors.

  No!

  ‘What just happened?!’ I want to shout into the room, but I don’t. I just sit there and stare in utter horror at the two as I’m sold off like some cow from one farmer to another.

  Jackson turns to me, his expression blank, while mine is still stuck in the form of shock. “I will see you tomorrow morning at nine to go over details, Ms. Moore. Same location. Don’t be late.”

  That’s it, final. No, ‘Does that sound okay to you?’ or ‘What day would work best for you?’ Jackson just listed his demands and left me standing there, stupefied.

  Daniel and I are in the elevator, making our way back down to the car, and a million different questions fire off in my head.

  What the hell did I just do? Why the hell did I deviate from the original plan?

  The reason for my showing up unannounced was to tell Stephanie that while Lexi was outstanding, I’d prefer to have her keep our appointments from now on. Stephanie, not Lexi.

  What the hell happened? What have I done? I just fired Stephanie and made Lexi my regular stylist. How could I be so careless?

  My hand moves to my busted lip, and I brush my thumb along the spot Lexi split open in her quick defense. Maybe she knocked all good sense out of me with that punch. Where the hell did she learn to hit like that?

  “Mr. Anderson, I’m not sure that this is a good—”

  “Not another word, Daniel.” I stop him right there.

  Everything he’s thinking I’ve already thought it, so I don’t need to hear it. Obviously, I’m aware this isn’t a good idea. In fact, it’s a horrible idea.

  I feel Daniel watching me, struggling with my order for him to remain quiet. He’s been a part of my family for years, so I know he cares for me as more than just his employer. He’s always had my back. Which is what he’s doing now, having my back, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself.

  I stare down at the blood on my thumb, feeling the punch all over again. “Everything’s going to be just fine, Daniel.” I rub the stain away between my fingers and say nothing more.

  The doors open back up to the lobby floor, and I let Daniel lead the way as I follow silently behind him.

  My mind wanders back to Lexi just as we pull away from the building. I go back to the moment her fingers brushed my lip, and I think of how it made me feel. The contact triggered something, and all I could think about in that moment was Ellie. I was so consumed by guilt that my initial reaction was to break contact with Lexi immediately.

  Why did I do this?

  I remember, in vivid detail, the night I first saw Lexi. I remember everything about that night, the where and when, the why and how. All of it, burned into my memory forever.

  There was a line I drew when I made the decision to watch over her, and I swore to never cross it. Then I created a very specific set of rules, and I swore never to break them.

  They were simple.

  No contact, observe from afar.

  Intervene only when necessary.

  Stay out of sight.

  Stay in control.

  I broke every single rule in just a matter of weeks. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I’m no longer in control. I’ve become unpredictable.

  The line I drew is so far behind me that I can’t even see it anymore.

  Did that really just happen?

  My eyes lift to the clock hanging on the wall, and I see that the conversation, i
f one could even call it that, only lasted ten minutes. So much happened in those ten minutes, my head is still spinning.

  When I finally come to, I reach out to close Stephanie’s door and carefully approach her desk. “Stephanie,” I begin.

  “You passed, girlie!” She mistakenly assumes that I need some reassurance regarding the test job, but what I want more is an explanation. “Don’t worry, your job is safe,” she says. “Obviously.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that.” I try to smile, but the sickening feeling in my stomach won’t go away. I’m afraid that I’ll lose my mind, or more, my job, if I have to continue to work with him. “I did the best I could with him today, and—”

  “Oh, I’m well aware.” She leans against the back of her cushioned chair. “I called him at the end of your appointment to see how it went, and I believe the word he used was…” Her eyes narrow into a soft squint when they point to the ceiling, appearing deep in thought. “Outstanding. Yes, that was it.” She points to me with her pen, wearing the biggest grin I’ve seen yet.

  “He what?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Yes, that’s why I found it hilarious when you said he was horrible.” She smacks the top of her desk, laughing the same way she did earlier on the phone.

  It was clear to me that they had a pretty close friendship. It’s the only logical explanation for how Stephanie could find this situation at all amusing.

  Jackson came in here, on her turf, all in charge and making demands, and she found him hilarious. He fired her, and she laughed.

  She’s a freaking loon.

  I lift a hand to my forehead when I realize the pile of shit I stepped in when agreeing to work for Stephanie, and I fight to keep myself together. “Stephanie, I, um…” I breathe a nervous laugh. Nothing about the situation is funny, but I can’t think of any other way to react. “I get that you two have a strange, love-hate thing going on as a form of foreplay, but, um… I’m not really into it, so if you could leave me out of your lover’s equation?” I expressively wave my hands around in between sentences.

  Stephanie lets out a loud whoop before bursting into fits of laughter. Loon. “Oh, honey…” She stops mid-laugh to give me a dead-serious look. “No.” Her face screws in disgust. “Jackson and I?” She points her manicured finger into her chest. “No friggin’ way! I have a type.”

  I exchange the look on my face for another one of the confused little frowns I’ve recently come to master. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m into heavily tatted bad boys.” Her hands slide all around her body to demonstrate where. “Not so much into the pretty dudes.” Her face screws up again to express her extreme level of distaste.

  Won’t argue that. Jackson is definitely more ‘pretty dude’ than ‘tatted bad-boy.’

  What an exceptional day I’m having. This has to be some sort of record for any employee’s worst first day ever. First, I punch my boss’s VIP client in the face. Then, I indirectly, and wrongly, accuse my boss of sleeping with said client. Wonderful.

  My smart mouth often gets me in trouble, this is hardly news, but I really need to learn to think before I speak sometimes.

  “I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect, Stephanie…” I begin with an apology. “After witnessing your exchange and seeing the tolerance level you both have for one another—”

  She giggles. “It’s really no biggie, I don’t care.”

  I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have just assumed, I apologize.”

  “Oh, please!” Stephanie waves me off. “I do it all the time, everyone does. I love very much that you speak your mind. It’s healthy to express yourself.”

  A breath of relief passes through my already smiling mouth. So far, I like it here, and I like my crazy boss even more. If only I could like my new client half as much, but I borderline hate him.

  “I don’t want to press my luck with you, because I’m so grateful for this chance you’re giving me,” I stall, trying to think of the best way to get my words out without somehow offending her. “But I just don’t know how I’m supposed to work with Mr. Anderson, he’s just so…” I struggle for the right word.

  “He’s an asshole,” she states flat out.

  My eyes grow wider at her bluntness. I don’t know why it surprises me at this point, but it does. “Well, yea…” I agree.

  “But it’s work,” Stephanie says with a shrug, then she stands from behind her desk and rounds it to the front where I’m standing, and she perches herself at the edge. “While someone can love what they do, they can’t always love the people they’re forced to deal with.”

  It’s a valid point, so I don’t dare argue it.

  “What does a teacher do when she gets stuck with that one annoying little shit in her class for the entire school year? What does a nurse do when she gets stuck with that one impossible patient on her rotation? What does a waitress do when that one arrogant customer gets seated in her section?” Stephanie stares pointedly at me, then she delivers the answer to all her questions with two simple words. “They deal.”

  I nod. “You’re absolutely right.”

  She smiles, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “I didn’t get to where I am because I loved each and every one of my overly-privileged clients, Lexi. Sure, some of them are pretty damn cool, but the rest are pretty much assholes. But I’ll tell you one thing…” She pushes off her desk to approach me. “They ended up changing my life. Every single one of them.” She hooks an arm around my shoulders, and I bend at the knees to accommodate her lacking height. “Who knows, Jackson could be the one to change yours.”

  Doubt it, but I humor her with a smile.

  “Oh, and Lexi?”

  “Yes?”

  “Punch him again, and I’ll give you a raise.” She winks.

  Loon.

  The dinner meeting I had tonight went well, just as I predicted. It was a deal I’ve been working to close for some time now, and I’m confident I’ve got the client where I want him.

  Everything usually happens the way I predict it to, my situation with Lexi being the only exception.

  “Where to, Mr. Anderson?” Daniel asks from the front.

  “Home,” I say quietly.

  He doesn’t need me to specify. He knows which of my properties I actually consider home, even though it doesn’t feel so much like one anymore.

  When we’re well on our way out to the beach, I pull my phone from my pocket and begin to check my messages. I delete them after listening to each one. Then I get to Ellie’s.

  My thumb hovers over the play button for a few beats as I hesitate, then I give it a push when I decide to listen to it.

  “Hey, Baby Daddy, sorry to bother you…” she starts. My mouth curls into a weak smile. “I don’t mean to alarm you or anything, but I’m sure by the time you’re listening to this you’ll be on your way home, and Mama’s out of milk. If you come home empty-handed, I will have to hurt you. Just a little. Okay? Bye. Baby Mama out.”

  I lower the phone from my ear to my lap. “Stop by the nearest store, Daniel.” When he stares questioningly at me through the mirror, I tell him, “I need milk.”

  Thirty minutes later, Daniel pulls up to the house, and just as he unbuckles himself, I tap my hand against the shoulder of his seat. “That’s okay, Daniel. Go home.” Then I climb out of the car and take the steps up to my front door.

  The lights are on in the kitchen when I get inside, and the first thing I do is power everything on in the living room, like I do every night I’m here. I return to the kitchen and pour a glass of milk, and then I hear her.

  “Hey, you.” Her voice fills the room.

  My hands clench around the edge of the counter, and I bite down hard against my jaw before looking up.

  “Hey, Ells.”

  Her hands lift, fingers tangling together in the form of a hopeful prayer, and she jumps up and down like a little girl. “Please tell me you got my message! Did you get my milk?”

  I watch as the glass of milk slid
es across the counter when I nudge it over, closer to her, and she beams up at me. “My hero.”

  “I try.”

  “You succeed!” She gives me her seal of approval with a quick thumbs-up. “Crackers, please!” She holds her hands up, ready to catch them when I toss the box of graham crackers to her.

  It takes her two seconds to tear the wrapper open, and she dunks one of the crisp squares into the glass of milk.

  “Oh, God…” I hear myself chuckle.

  “What?” she asks with her mouth full.

  “I still think that’s disgusting.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “You don’t know until you try!”

  “I’m not putting that soggy crap into my mouth,” I strongly protest.

  Ellie makes a face, the one that gets me every time, and she says, “You will one day.”

  “No. Never.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “What makes you so confident?”

  “Because you love me.”

  My gaze falls from her face to the glass of milk on the granite counter, and I just stare at it, my tears slowly clouding my vision.

  The guilt forms so hugely in my chest, taking up all the space until everything feels painfully tight. I stare down at the fresh stacks of crackers in front of me. I reach out to take a crisp square from the wrapper, and I dunk it into the glass of milk before popping the piece into my mouth.

  I look up again at the sound of Ellie ecstatically giggling. “Oh, Jackson, I love you.”

  My teeth clench tighter together mid-chew, and I feel the strain it puts on my head.

  “I love you more, Ells,” I hear myself say, my guilt transforming into an unbearable ache.

  She shakes her head at me. “I love you most.”

  The tears are heavy in my eyes, burning painfully from my refusal to set them free.

  It hurts.

  All of it hurts.

  I hate it here.

  Normally, I’m a shut-in. I like to stay home and relax at the end of my day. Harper would often suggest a girl’s night out for drinks, and I’d usually let her down gently, but there are too many reasons to celebrate tonight. So I took my friends up on their invitation to meet at Bottom’s Up! for celebratory drinks.