by J. M. Maurer
A snort bolts from Ed’s throat. “Unfortunately, viewers never get to know the man behind the camera. Eli, my office. O-eight hundred. Monday.” Ed nods at him, then moves his frown back to me. “Think long and hard, Makayla. I want your ass in my office after Eli. And don’t be late.”
As Ed’s words vibrate my eardrums, I sit quietly and refrain from instigating any type of argument with him. Thankfully Eli doesn’t seem to catch the double meaning slipped into Ed’s command. But I heard it loud and clear, and I’ve officially had my fill of his crap. Would love to tell him exactly what I think, but not wanting to make things worse for Eli means I need to sit back and stay quiet.
Questions flood my mind, much the same as an incoming tsunami would swallow up an entire island. I ride the wave and land on two thoughts that drown me in deep contemplation. Over and over, my mind vacillates between how I let a little winter-time fun snowball fight get so out of control and how I should go about making this up to Eli.
Without the answers, I flick my gaze back to Eli the instant Ed’s frame exits my sight. My heart sinks at the bleak and hopeless expression clouding Eli’s perfect complexion. An unbearable coldness spreads upward from my hands, a frost-like burn seizing each muscle in my body, leaving every ounce of my being trapped under a frozen layer of regret.
As if he doesn’t know what to say, Eli merely stares at his lap.
I want to hold and comfort him in any way I can, but given what just transpired, I’m not sure Eli would want me wrapping my arms around him. So I sit still, afraid to do much more than blink on occasion and stare. My eyes brim with moisture, my mind swirls with uncertainty, and my lips tremble as I clutch at the ache that’s taken residence within my chest.
Tears of sorrow slide down my cheeks as I gather strength to open my mouth. My voice quakes, each word spoken with emotion from deep within my heart. “I’m s-so s-sorry, Eli. I’m really, really s-sorry.”
Despite my apology, Eli continues to stare. His expression is flat. His brown eyes are dull. It completely breaks my heart to see him off in deep thought, once again.
I may have bit my tongue with Ed, but I can no longer sit here and watch as Eli turns inward to his thoughts. “Please tell me what you’re thinking. Your mind takes you off to so many places, but you never take me with you. I wish you’d let me in. Please talk to me so I can help you.”
Eli lifts his chin, his glossy eyes finding mine. “My contract is up at the end of the month,” he finally says, his tone rich with concern.
I grab onto his arm, my breath hitching, my body in shock.
“I’ve known for a while,” he adds, searching my eyes intently. “Even before that first night you hopped into the van. Ed’s been jerking me around like a paper puppet, texting me at the last second to cover stories that never even make it on the air, and holding the elusive new contract over my head like he’s the only person in the world who hands them out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I ask, my firm tone riding a flush of adrenaline tingling throughout my body. “Maybe I could have helped. Maybe I wouldn’t have—”
Eli lifts his hand in a gesture for me to stop, and then tilts his head as if to say what happened between you and Caleb tonight probably would have happened anyway. But what I was thinking didn’t have anything to do with Caleb. Since Ed’s arrival, I’d forgotten about Caleb. I was about to say that I probably wouldn’t have turned down the job in Oklahoma.
“How was I supposed to tell you?” He tilts his head to the other side. “Was I just supposed to come right out and say, ‘Hey, Makayla, every time I go off in deep thought it’s because I’m afraid—every time I’m looking forward to something cool with you I’m afraid it’s all going to fizzle once I’m out of a job’?”
“Yes!” I practically roar. “That’s exactly how you’re supposed say it because it’s us now… remember?”
“You honestly think it’s that easy?” He furrows his brows, his tone matching mine. “Do you think I don’t worry that I’ll never again get to watch you spread that gloss across your lips? Or that the possessive man in me wouldn’t look out for you when I’m as certain as the sunrise that your ex-boyfriend is going to turn up and create chaos? Or that going home with you to Oklahoma I wouldn’t end up falling in love and then worry I might never get to be with you like that again?” He shoves his hands into his hair, inhaling a gulp of air. “I’ve never been in this deep before. I’ve completely outkicked my coverage with you. It’s a hell of a lot harder than you think, Makayla.”
“What?” My jaw comes unhinged. “You knew Caleb was at the arena and didn’t tell me?”
“Of course I didn’t know he was there, but I’m not stupid. You’re the one who told me he worked for the Cavaliers. He’d be a moron not to hop on an opportunity right at his doorstep and attempt to get you back.”
“That’s preposterous!”
“It’s preposterous that he tossed you away in the first place!”
My breath catches and my heart thrums at twice its usual pace. I don’t like that we’re yelling, that our conversation has grown this heated. And I don’t like hearing Eli say he thinks I’m out of his league. Somehow, something inside me recognizes that this isn’t the time to sit here and overthink. I draw Eli into my arms and pull him straight to my chest.
He returns my embrace, wrapping his strong arms around my waist. Like a magnet to metal, he rests his forehead against the crook on my neck.
“Eli,” I say calmly, my eyes brimming with tears. “Are you really afraid you’re going to lose me?”
His body quivers as he strengthens his hold around my waist. “Losing you would be beyond my worst nightmare.”
In this moment, I know unequivocally that I’ll do anything for this man. I’m done biding my time, done playing my boss’s games, and I’m definitely over being debased by Ed’s out-of-line commands. One more strong-arm order from Ed and I’ll bring out the hydrogen to complete my virtual bomb.
I’m smart.
I know how to connect the fuse to the explosive.
And so help me God, I’m definitely not afraid to light it.
“Cincinnati! You can’t move to Cincinnati. Why is Ed sending you to Cincinnati?” I suck in a breath, feeling as though my legs are about to give out and my body’s going to hit the ground. And if I so much as think about saying “Cincinnati” one more time, I might as well scream it out of my system, from the top of my lungs.
I know exactly why Ed’s doing this. It’s obvious he wants Eli out of the picture. God, I loathe my boss more now than I ever thought possible.
“Makayla,” Eli says, a soft look surrounding his eyes. “I think this came from above Ed. If you think about it, this might turn out to be a good move. And I won’t be that far away.”
“You won’t be that far away?” This came from above Ed, my butt. How can he say he won’t be that far away? If he’s not where I can kiss him then, in my book, he’s too damn far away.
“It’s just downstate. And I’ll be staying at Ben’s condo until I figure out what’s up with the job.”
Right now, I don’t care about Ben, or the fact that Ben is away trying to get some chick he knocked up to believe he actually loves her. He’s a professional baseball pitcher, and a player with a hook-up in every city he plays in. Good luck getting her to fall off the mound and into your arms, Ben Peterson.
I’m too upset about what’s happening to care about Ben being Eli’s best friend. As selfish as it sounds, I want Eli with me. In my arms. In Cleveland.
But now that’s not possible, and we discuss Eli’s big move south for what seems like hours. No matter what I say, he’s determined to make it work. And worse, he never once asks me to go with him. The fact that he doesn’t say anything slices a gaping hole right through my heart. He might as well have the whole thing because when he walks out my door, he’ll be taking off with my broken heart.
I think about that as we stand in the hall outside my apart
ment door where the tension is palpable in the thick air that surrounds us. About to leave, he has his hands shoved deep in his pockets while I fidget restlessly with mine at my sides. I don’t feel like we’re done discussing the move. Frankly, I want to drag him back inside. More than anything, I want to somehow make him stay. I don’t want Eli leaving me and certainly not this way.
He rocks back and forth, glancing between my door and me, then whips out both hands and threads his fingers through my hair. Clasping the back of my head, he draws me in and holds me tight.
I wrap my arms around his waist and place my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat is fast and matches the pace mine has set, pounding away in reckless abandon against the inside of his chest. As if our next breath is dependent on our physical closeness, we pull each other in and stand together in silence.
While listening to the cadence of his beating heart, I think back to how our emotional connection has always been what’s affected me the most. From the beginning, and seemingly just from being around him, a strange calmness has moved through me like water flowing down a canal, bringing with it a level of patience I’ve never experienced before. Things that had once bothered me now seem so trivial and lame.
The way his gaze pins mine, it’s as if he knows the only pathway to my soul. And he goes there often, making certain to link his soul to mine.
I know he feels it—this powerful bond we have. But why is he leaving like this? What is he really thinking? Why won’t he ask me to come along?
He moves his hands to my shoulders, the grip loose and disconnected, and places a gentle kiss at the top of my forehead. I want to squeeze him tighter, voice my objection to what’s happening. But I know Eli is hurting inside; I can feel it as though his pain were mine. Not wanting to make this harder on him, I decide it’s best to stay quiet.
He squeezes once more. Gone this time is the strength behind what always felt like a great need to hold me as close as he possibly could. Replacing it is a much softer touch, a seemingly last-ditch effort to forget what’s happening and refuse to let go. But then he drops his hands listlessly to his sides, turns away and, after blowing me a kiss, walks down the hall to the elevators.
I stand outside my door, my heart aching, my eyes brimming with tears, my mind consumed with fear that I might never see him again. The moment feels like a goodbye, which is not what I want. At all. And because of that I will never say that one word to Eli.
Things are bad.
So much so I start counting ceiling tiles to pass the time while being sequestered inside the graphics room at work. With the back of my head resting on the cushion of my chair, I stare up at the grid on the ceiling tiles and sigh, my thumb sliding back and forth along the metal clip of an incendiary device. It won’t go up in flames, per se, but I’m hopeful its usefulness will lead to the same result.
I haven’t seen Eli since the weekend he left for That City I refuse to ever again name. We text on occasion, but even with that, I’ve been hearing less and less from him. The last message I received said he was checking out a lead on a promising job in Texas.
Houston, Texas. A whopping one thousand three hundred and four miles away, which is an increase in distance I am not at all happy about.
Thankfully, Stacie has become like a sister to me. Without her, I highly doubt I would have survived the cold and lonely month of January in Cleveland. And trying his best to cheer me up, Vinnie has made The Makayla for me more times than I can count. I don’t have the heart to tell him about the emotions that surge through my veins each time he places that seaside vision of Italy in front of me. I think he takes my responsive tears as happiness, when they are everything but that.
No matter what I’m doing, thoughts of Eli are never far from my mind. When alone in my apartment, I’ve been rereading his texts, wondering what he left unsaid, and wishing with every ounce of my being that I hadn’t blown up at Caleb and messed everything up. Missing him so much, I often thumb through my precious book and watch the video clip he made me for Christmas. I even ripped the security covering off the movie he’d asked if I’d seen, popped it in the video player, and clicked repeat. Depressed and alone, I vegged out on the couch, lifted at least a bazillion tissues to my nose, and cried until I had every word of Major League memorized.
For the record, that baseball player and librarian were so meant to be together—as are a kindhearted cameraman from Ohio and a feisty meteorologist from Oklahoma.
My mind exhausted from hours of ruminating and my fingers still fiddling with the gadget in my hand, I decide it’s time to stow it inside my jacket pocket and head on out of my office. In the past, I would have barged right into Ed’s office and, without thinking, immediately gone off on him. But things are different now and pushing my way into my boss’s space won’t do either of us any good.
Standing outside his closed door, I take one last moment for myself, then rap my knuckles against the wood, and enter as soon as I hear him say, “Come in.”
Once inside, I march to his desk. “Mr. Richardson.” I acknowledge his presence but for the moment offer nothing else.
Ed pushes back in his leather chair and slithers to my side of his desk. Then, as if welcoming me into his domain with a hug, he unfolds his arms from his chest. “Perfect timing. I was just about to call for you.”
The freakishly endearing tone in Ed’s voice makes it difficult to discern his current mood. For once, he doesn’t seem mad. On the contrary, I get the impression he’s quite glad I’ve shown up when I have.
“In fact,” Ed gestures to a scrawny guy at my side who, had he not pointed him out, I’d have missed merely because of his size, “I’d like you to meet Austin Ackerman. Your cameraman.”
My cameraman. I almost hand in my badge. Even with a quick scan over Austin Ackerman, I can tell everything about this kid is wrong. His dishwater blond hair is unkempt and oily, most likely due to an overuse of product that’s doing a lousy job of keeping the strands from falling across his forehead. Because of that, Austin’s eyes are barely visible. He looks like a human version of an Old English Sheepdog. Except Old English Sheepdogs are cute and cuddly, and Austin Ackerman isn’t.
Even more disturbing for me, this kid doesn’t appear to be a day over eighteen. I don’t like this at all. And I don’t like that he’s replacing Eli as my cameraman.
I turn to Ed and cock my head. “Seriously? There is no way this is happening.”
As soon as I speak, Austin’s last name flits through my mind. Ackerman. Something about it sounds moderately familiar.
Thinking on it, I hear Ed’s strangely soft voice cut in. “It is what it is. Get used to it and go grab your things. You too, Austin.”
Confused and irritated, I squeeze the base of my neck and wonder how Ed has suddenly found control over barking out his words. He flicks his wrist at Austin in a quick gesture I don’t completely see.
“Grab my things?” I ask as Austin schleps across the room and leaves.
“Yes. Sam is waiting at the van. And Austin’s been shadowing the sports crew. It’s been brief, but I’m sure he’s ready.”
Shadowed the sports crew? Austin is ready?
I can’t believe it. “Since when has a brief shadowing of anyone ever fully prepared you for a job?”
“Are you questioning my authority, Makayla?”
“I’m questioning the replacement of a highly qualified and gifted cameraman with one who has practically no experience at all. Even you have to admit that he looks like a kid.”
“And you don’t?”
“I spent five years in college earning two advanced degrees and then worked through an internship that helped me build a skillset needed for my job. I’ve worked my butt off to get where I am, and despite your constant reminders of my misconduct, I’m quite confident I’m doing a damn good job. Experience is exactly why you need to get Eli back.” Blood rushes to the tip of my tongue, the way it always does when I have an uncontrollable urge to argue. I release a
heavy sigh, seeing a vein in Ed’s neck begin to twitch.
Thinking twice about pissing Ed off any more than I already have, I decide to go grab my things. But before I make a quarter turn, Ed snatches up both my wrists. With his fingers clasped tight on my skin, he pins me between the weight of his oversized body and the sharp glass edge of his desk. Then he sears me with a dark glint in his eyes that makes me immediately divert my gaze. His rank and pungent sweat-like odor triggers an unwelcome wave of nausea. I cringe and groan the moment I realize the hand gesture Ed sent Austin was a request for Austin to close the door.
As if warning me not to do anything stupid, Ed secures his vise-like grip, leans in even more, and skims his lips along my ear. “Your precious Eli is not coming back!”
“Ed,” I plead, fighting against his harsh hold, but since he’s much larger and stronger than I am, my effort to escape is futile. “Let go of my wrists. And get off me!”
He leans back and laughs at my demand. “I own you, Makayla. And I own your career. The sooner you accept this, the better things will be for me and for you.”
I stare at the door, my limbs shaky, my throat holding in a scream as Ed follows my gaze.
“It automatically locks, princess,” he confirms, his voice insinuating and eerily smooth. “It’d be a total waste not to put these soundproof rooms with windowless walls to good use. There’s no need to think about squandering that sweet voice of yours on a scream. This little chat we’re about to have is solely between you and me.”
Outraged, I glance back at him through narrowed eyes, and thrust my knee up toward his groin as hard as I possibly can. Anticipating my move, he darts left and takes the hit mid-thigh. Undeterred, he steps on my feet, secures my legs with his own, and then burns the skin at my wrist as he strengthens his hold.
Clenching his jaw, he flicks his eyes up to mine and pins me with a sinister stare that tells me he knows I’m powerless beneath his body. “I wouldn’t try that again if I were you.”
