Natural Selection

by Amanda Lance

  As promised, a plumber had sealed off the restroom and was banging around on the pipes. The printer upstairs shimmied back and forth while Elaine jabbered into the phone and tapped her cane. Unused to such noise, the dogs barked louder than usual, squealing and howling in succession. Her headache vibrated through her temples, and Emilia sighed, grabbing two aspirin from a bottle in the desk and swallowing them dry.

  “Elaine! What’s going on?”

  Elaine held up one of her thick fingers to indicate she would be a minute.

  In the meantime, Emilia let her hair down in the hopes that it would help alleviate some of the pain. Afterward, she refilled the water bowls in the kennel and rotated the dogs that were outside, so some of the other guys could get some exercise and fresh air. When she did, however, the community service kids were mowing the yard, and in Emilia’s opinion, making a great deal of noise.

  Emilia sighed and petted Freckles before giving her a treat. She was named for the speckled scars on her abdomen—the result of infected flea bites. Quickly, she pulled back, realizing that interacting with the dog made her sad. Exactly why that was, however, she did not know.

  “Em? Are you hiding back here?”

  She smiled and petted Freckle’s belly. “Guilty.”

  “I saw your car,” Paula half-hollered over the noise, “but I wasn’t sure you were here.”

  Emilia closed Freckles back in her cage and substituted petting the dogs for massaging her temples.

  “Did Elaine tell you?”

  She shook her head and scoffed. “What? More money?”

  “Sort of?” Paula laughed. “We’re having a fundraiser gala.”

  Startled, Emilia stopped Paula’s explanation by putting her hand in mid-air. “A what?”

  “Will you shut up out there?”

  Emilia laughed, grateful that the workers listened and dispersed with the noise enough so that she could hear her own thoughts.

  “Un-huh. Apparently, it was Mr. Weber’s idea. Elaine asked his lawyer where he was staying and called to apologize—”

  “It was Mr. Weber’s idea? Are you kidding me?”

  Paula nodded excitedly. “Isn’t it exciting? Parties like this bring in a lot of revenue.”

  Emilia nodded, still dumbfounded by the news.

  “I’ve been practicing my apology to him all day. I just hope I don’t screw it up. I know Claudette and I made spectacles of ourselves. Guess no one can blame the guy for refusing to work with anyone but you.”

  Emilia walked past her and into the lobby. Clearly, two aspirin would not be enough. “Please, please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Ah, no.” Now Paula looked at Emilia sheepishly, an evident expression of concern crossing her face. “Why would I be? You’re the only one who acted normal around the guy, and since he’s putting up another $10,000 for this fundraiser, it’s natural that he would want to participate in the planning.”

  She sighed. Was this a joke to him? A weird gag she didn’t understand? When she made him leave the night before, she felt liberated for the first time, in control of their relationship since Kasper had first ended it. It had hurt terribly, but with the pain came a raw sense of freedom that made her feel more independent than she ever had. And she had felt a lifting of the purgatory she had kept herself in for the last year. Maybe if she had told him off when he first tried to breakup with her, then it wouldn’t have hit so hard, wouldn’t have hurt so much. Emilia hadn’t realized how much she regretted blubbering and begging him to keep her in his life until that moment. At least now she had given him a taste of his own medicine—kicking him out of her home, and her life.

  But what if he was angry enough to do something cruel to the people she worked with? Build up their hopes up only to intentionally knock them down?

  “When is he supposed to be here?”

  Paula glanced at her watch, cringing as the plumber started drilling something. “About an hour. We don’t have any appointments for then, do we?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you look nervous? Oh God, you are going to be here, right?”

  At any other time, Emilia might have laughed at the dramatized panic that came over Paula’s face, but she felt a new, indispensable amount of anger instead. It was one thing for Kasper to play games with her, for him to try and wear her down or whatever he was doing with her. But it was another thing entirely for him to hurt the people in her life. If he got bored and withdrew his money, backed out of this gala at the last minute simply because he felt like it, it would break everyone’s hearts. Yes, she had willingly given him her heart to smash, but her colleagues hadn’t.

  And she wouldn’t let him hurt them.

  She did everything she could in the short amount of time to make herself as unappetizing as possible. Working up a sweat by walking the dogs outside and mopping the floors, she didn’t bother cleaning herself up for the sake of potential new adoptees or even for herself. If Kasper wanted to try to seduce her again, she would make it as unappealing as possible.

  Emilia was working in the flowerbed when he pulled up. And though she saw his car’s blinker from the corner of her eye, she failed to acknowledge him, much happier to bury her hands in mulch than deal with his mind-games.

  As usual, his steps were subtle, the result of designer shoes flexing softly against the pavement. How many times had she tuned her ears in to hear those steps in Iram Manor’s library or even in the kitchen when she fixed herself a snack? Though the sound was similar now, the feeling wasn’t the same—the anticipation was there, but lacking the joy.

  The footsteps stopped just short of her, and she tried to pretend she didn’t feel his eyes on her neck, the sliver of skin showing on her lower back. After a few moments however, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she coughed awkwardly, pounding her fist deep into the dirt. “What are you doing back here?”

  “How did you know it was me?” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a smile in his voice.

  “Anyone who could afford those shoes would go to a breeder, not adopt.” She sighed and stuck one of the purple dahlias into the soil. At least everyone had agreed that the front of the building needed some sprucing up. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a complete dumb blonde.”

  “You are neither dumb nor blonde, my little peach. I think you know that.”

  “Don’t call me that.” She worked to create another hole in the dirt and overlooked the concealed compliment.

  “If you wish.” Emilia watched his shadow move from side to side. “But if you must dispute me, must you do it out here? It is so blistering hot—”

  “Listen.” She stood up without hesitating and shook the dirt from her knees. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I can promise you that if you go back on your word, hurt these people to get back at me, I will make you regret it.”

  Emilia saw a smile beneath the mask. “You people around here seem to have a great deal of communication problems. Perhaps you need a Mrs. Levkin in your employment—”

  “Kasper—”

  “I have no intention of withdrawing my donation and every intention of going through with this fundraiser.”

  “Why?”

  He looked both ways before shaking his head. Was it not obvious? “Why?”

  “Yes,” she emphasized. “Why? You dislike people, you hate going out, and you really hate animals. I don’t understand.”

  “I may hate all of those things, but I love you. There is nothing else to understand.”

  “What if I don’t love you?” she asked softly.

  Sighing, he chose to stare at the ground for the first time. “Then I will deal with that in due time.”

  “Mr. Weber, right on time, so good to see you!”

  Emilia cringed at the phrase, knowing full well it was one of Kasper’s most disliked. Paula didn’t flinch and gestured for the both of them to come inside, shushing once again at the con
tractors and dogs.

  Kasper grimaced from underneath his mask and waved Emilia forward. “Shall we?”

  She stomped through the front door, not stopping to see why Kasper hesitated just inside the lobby and feigning indifference to how uncomfortable he was.

  If Emilia could, she wouldn’t let on how much she cared for him. It may not have been much, but she was intent on making sure he had no idea how much of her time was devoted to thinking of him.

  Instead, she washed her hands at one of the grooming sinks, taking the time to scrub everything out from under her fingernails and the dirt caked in her palms.

  When she looked back again, Elaine and Paula were trying to subject him to handshakes and thank-yous—other things that she knew he despised. She didn’t like how bluntly they seemed to ignore his discomfort, but she knew he probably deserved it, too. The fact of the matter was that she loved Kasper, but he couldn’t be trusted and was ignorant as to why that was an important aspect of a relationship. After watching her mother and so many others wither away from unscrupulous connections, Emilia wasn’t going to make the same mistake—not without doing everything in her power to prevent it, anyway.

  Emilia stepped over in the middle of their conversation.

  “So the local VFW is available in two weeks—”

  “Or there is that Chinese buffet with the great fried shrimp.”

  She saw his jaw shift back and forth. Though it wasn’t possible, she could have sworn she heard his thoughts—all the names he was calling them in his head. She looked back from Paula to Elaine and knew that whatever he was calling them was probably pretty accurate.

  “Ladies, I thought I made my terms clear. I prefer to work with Miss. Ward.”

  They looked at each other before looking back at Emilia.

  “Right.” Elaine said nervously.

  Paula’s reply was almost simultaneous. “Certainly.”

  They dispersed awkwardly. Elaine made her way back upstairs and Paula pretended to talk with the contractors. Neither Emilia nor Kasper, however, failed to notice how both women gazed at the odd pair and whispered amongst themselves.

  “It is terribly loud in here.” Kasper stepped forward, making Emilia shiver though the air condition was barely on. “Why don’t we go somewhere more—” he whispered in her ear, “private?”

  She stepped away, fearful to even shove him away after the reaction he had on her body the night before. “I work here. If you want to leave, you’re more than welcome.”

  “I don’t think your colleagues would agree…” Emilia almost swore she felt him smile. “But very well.”

  He followed her silently to the staff room, which, he observed with irritation, was little more than a flimsy table and a homely refrigerator. As she gathered some papers from the side of a copy machine, he looked around, allowing himself to laugh at the outdated poster of a cat hanging from a clothes line and the hats and various other clothing items hanging from broken hooks. A note on the refrigerator threatened untimely death for anyone who ate something that did not belong to them, and the wallpaper with cartoon bones and fire hydrants was flaking off.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “You should have come to me a long time ago for assistance with this establishment,” he said. “It is disgraceful.”

  She blanched and made sure to keep her eyes on anything but him. She had come to him a long time ago—had tried to, anyway—and money had nothing to do with it. Had he really so easily forgotten the sort of person she was?

  “That’s only your opinion.”

  He made a noise between a laugh and a huff. “More than that if Home at Last is nearing bankruptcy. There is a reason why private shelters have ceased to function in this day in age.”

  “Since the financial crisis there are fewer government shelters and private shelters have stepped up. Fewer animals are euthanized as a result and—wait—” She stopped herself and relived the conversation in her head. “How did you know that we were nearing bankruptcy?” The question, of course, had been completely rhetorical. Without thinking about it, Emilia knew what the answer was. “Damn it.” She laughed and glared up at him, the remainder of anger taking over. “You were spying on me again, weren’t you?”

  “Hardly.” He looked around and closed the propped door behind him. If she was going to yell at him, the least he wanted was privacy with which to be scolded in. “I was making small inquiries into your life—”

  “No! That’s enough, just shut up! I don’t want to know what you’ve been doing, what you know or don’t know—just the fact that you don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself is an insult…” Emilia pushed the hair from her face and sat at the table. “You want to organize this thing? Fine, let’s do that and get it over with so you can go home and I can file a restraining order.”

  He smiled and watched her under the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t so terrible, but it was not the same as firelight or the sun and something between lust and longing clenched at his heart.

  “Come on.” She gestured to the chair across from her, but Kasper stared at it as if it were something vulgar. “It isn’t fancy, but I promise it won’t bite, either.”

  “Funny.” He smirked. “I’ve known you to do just that…”

  “Shut up.” She looked away so he wouldn’t see her smile. How did he have the ability to make her angry and fill her head with lust at the same time? She flipped through the papers in her hands almost absentmindedly. She needed to stay focused if she wanted to stay true to her new resolution and flirting with Kasper was not going to be helpful at all.

  “Okay,” she said, brushing the hair from her face. “Since you rejected everyone else’s ideas about a location, do you have one?”

  “Naturally. We’re going to have our gala at the Belhurst Castle.”

  “The wedding place? That’s way too expensive, and even if it wasn’t, you have to book it like, two years in advance—”

  “The 18th of next month.” Kasper crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers over his knee. Instantly, Emilia rolled her eyes. Why did he get to act so superior all of the time?

  “That’s only five weeks away.” Emilia picked up a pen and started creating swirls in the corners of the brochure of the Holiday Inn.

  “Yes, well, I understand securing a last minute date is easier to achieve when engaged couples are no longer together.”

  Skeptical and unwilling to get her hopes up, Emilia stared at him and waited for him to admit that he was joking. Still, taking advantage of two other people with a broken heart was not out of Kasper’s realm.

  “I have talked to Aasif and he confirms that $300 a ticket will take care of the venue as well as secure some much needed publicity for this place.”

  “I’m sorry.” Suddenly her mouth felt drier than it had in her entire life. “$300 a ticket? American dollars?”

  “Of course, you foolish girl.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “You can ask people to pay that, but people around here won’t pay that.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said, leaning in closer. “This is a very liberal area. Surely you have lots of professors who believe in this ‘cause,’ classmates and acquaintances alike.

  “Not for $300 a ticket and I’m going to assume black-tie?”

  Kasper rested his elbows on the table. “You assume correctly.”

  “The people who work here can’t even afford that.”

  “Obviously, those hens out there will be given a compensated ticket. And you are being much too small-minded about this, Emilia Ward. New York is a wealthy, democratic state where I just happen to know many people. Once Mrs. Levkin sends out a few exclusive invitations, everyone on the east coast will want to attend.”

  She smiled and looked at his hands. She had to admit, it did sound good. “What do you even need me for, then? It sounds like you have everything figured out.”

  “Nonsense.” He sm
iled back. “I need you for everything.”

  Chapter 5

  Notes of the Heart

  Aasif Shiraz had humored Kasper’s attempts to rid himself of the Ward girl, encouraged it even, suspecting that she would have found another patron to keep her occupied. While he admired the girl for her intelligence, and obvious devotion to hard work, he had been wary of strong-willed women who asked for nothing and offered everything in return. He, like many others he knew, had grown up with the notion that American women were promiscuous and lacked an ability to contain themselves. While he did not agree with the constraints his religion placed on women, he occasionally wondered if the world wouldn’t be a little better, slightly easier for people like Kasper, if such restrictions were applied in other countries.

  Naturally, he was surprised to hear from him so soon after leaving Massachusetts and recoiled at the sight of the hotel’s number coming up on his phone. Kasper hardly ever used the phone, and the last time he had, it was to call him at three in the morning and jammer on about some party idea he had to win over Ms. Ward. Had she rejected him already? Would he have to talk Kasper off the hotel’s rooftop?

  “Kasper?”

  “I am demoting you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “If you can’t be bothered to pick up on the first ring, then I have little use for you. I’ll be taking you down a pay scale immediately.”

  Aasif had to admit he was somewhat relieved. Not only did Kasper not sound manic as he had before, but he had returned to using the sarcasm he loved so much. Aasif hesitated to proceed as he normally would, but knew that expressing his concern or the curiosity into Kasper’s behavior change might be a catalyst to set his client off again.