Wicked Sunshine

by Justine Winter

  “As a new imprint I’m eager to be a part of the team that helps grow Rush House into a successful household name. Right now Rush House is a virgin, and I want nothing more than to pop that cherry and steer it to greatness.”

  “Excellent.” Cam smiles, and I see she’s won him over while the perfectly stiff Joanna with her neat up-do and dull, black, pant suit purses her lips in disgust. What is it about HR that produces such drones? What happens to their personalities? Oh, that’s right. They get fried in the tediousness that is their jobs. Poor souls. “Do you have any questions for us?”

  Redhead smiles, crossing her right leg over the other. “Is there anything I can clarify for you on my CV, any other questions you might like me to answer?”

  I clear my throat. “Are you flexible?”

  “Mr. Rush!” Joanna fumes. “Just what are you insinuating?” She sounds absolutely appalled, but Redhead doesn’t seem insulted.

  “I’m talking about your current employment. If you are successful, can you start immediately at Rush House?”

  Okay, you caught me. I phrased my question ambiguously on purpose to goad Joanna. What? You think I’m being mean? Maybe she should take a lesson in humour, find her funny bone. I’m just saying, tightly wound people are generally missing out on something in life. Laughter. Or sex. And in her case, I’m betting it’s both. She’s probably all cobwebbed up in her prim and proper vagina. I bet no one but a Prince gets to touch those flowery flaps.

  “Yes, I see no problems with that.” She winks at Cam, and I swear I hear Joanna tutting away. Fucking prude.

  “Then that’s a wrap. Thank you for coming in, we’ll let you know our decision in a day or two.” Cam states, standing to shake her hand goodbye.

  As she disappears out of the room¸ Joanna turns with such rage she’s frothing at the mouth. “I’m not here to marshal the comings and goings of your penis, Mr. Rush. Curb these antics, or I’ll file a sexual harassment lawsuit myself for the misbehaving treatment of your employees. Do I make myself clear?”

  Jesus Christ. Do you think she’s feeling neglected? A little jealous my attention hasn’t been on her? Poor little Joanna, fun is not in her vocabulary it seems.

  “Do what you want, my employees will attest that I’ve always been and will always be a fair and loyal boss. Make no mistake between a man with a sense of humour, and the actions of a creep. You won’t like the repercussions.” Can you tell it’s not the first time I’ve been threatened this way? I should make a sign that states I’m not a fool. Stupid spinster.

  She gathers up her stuff in a huff, and I know if we were in a cartoon, smoke would be blowing out of her ears right about now. My phone chirps on the desk, distracting me from Joanna’s dramatic exit.

  I’m scrolling through the two most important emails of the bunch, and realise with sadness that my day isn’t quite over yet. Bollocks.

  “I’ve gotta head to the Foundation.”

  “What about choosing the team?” Cam asks.

  I stare at the array of papers, pointing out who I think will work well based on all my notes. “Who’ve you got?”

  He absently nods, switching out one candidate for another. “He has more experience in marketing, a greater list of contacts.”

  “Right, but he bombed with that last question. She didn’t.”

  “Trust me on this, okay? He’s a better suit for what we stand for.”

  I shrug, this is why his opinion counts. “Okay, then you get to do the honours. Let them all know either way, we go live in two weeks.” I grab my suit jacket and head towards the doors.

  “Is everything okay with the Foundation?”

  “Not sure. Ross needs to see me.” I hold out my phone indicating the message, and leave the room.

  By the time Anderson gets me to the Foundation it’s absolutely pouring down. London is miserable. “Anderson, Miss Kennedy will be joining me tonight at the apartment but I’m afraid I’m going to be late. See to it that she gets in without me.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I dash into the building away from the heavy downpour, and make my way towards Doctor Ross’ office. At this time of night the hallways are empty, quiet, so you can understand my surprise when I bump into a woman and her child leaving Ross’ doors.

  “Pardon me,” I say, sidestepping the petite blonde.

  On a normal given day, I have excellent spatial awareness, but lately my mind is entirely consumed with thoughts of Maya there’s little else I’m able to concentrate on. I’m mostly moving on autopilot; intense and focused on my direction.

  “Don’t worry about it, Grayson.”

  I freeze. The indignation in that small phrase is one I used to hear frequently. Everything turns into slow-mo but my heart - that’s beating rapidly. Imagine you’re sat in the cinema, watching a film with the quality of one of those high-definition cameras. You see the bead of sweat on the guy’s forehead, hear his sharp intake of breath, and watch his pupils sharpen as he recognises someone he used to know well.

  That’s me, right now, staring at the petite woman with her son standing beside her. Familiarity is smacking me in the face with a cast iron frying pan. I can’t find my voice, can’t feel beyond the numbness of my shock.

  “Sabrina?” I manage to choke out of my incredibly dry mouth. Smooth, Rush, real smooth. “What are you doing here?”

  She flicks her blue eyes at me. “Jay just had his first appointment.” Her arm wraps around the sandy-haired boy.

  “Is everything okay?” Stupid question, I know, considering they’re here at the Foundation I set up for kids dealing with being bullied in one form or another, but I don’t know what else to say. What do you say to the woman that ran out on you eight years ago?

  Thanks for stopping by, now kindly fuck off out of my life I’m doing great without you?

  No, somehow I don’t think that’s going to cut it.

  “It will be,” she smiles tightly. “We need to get going, but it was great seeing you again, Grayson.” She grazes my arm with her hand, her fiery touch burns my very core. It reminds me of the pain I’ve endured because of her spitefulness.

  I watch them walk away, and a deeply-buried sadness seeps into my being. This, kiddoes, is the heartbreak that’s ruined me.

  So pass me the fucking scotch, my wounds need sterilising.

  ~ £ ~

  Have you ever noticed how life tends to have this wicked sense of humour? Just when things seem to right itself, it’ll find a way to remind you of something evil. It’s the cosmic balance adjusting the beam, equalising all happiness with that touch of sadness. Just to keep you on your toes.

  But I refuse to let Sabrina’s poison back into my life. Why should I? I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I spend time with Maya.

  Isn’t that cheesy? I’ve been infected with Romanza - romance influenza.

  While I’m riding the elevator to my apartment I make the decision to erase all things Sabrina from my mind. She will not ruin my date night; she doesn’t deserve to.

  I know. It’s easier said than done. Wish me luck.

  “Maya?” I call out, seeing my living room’s empty.

  “In the kitchen!”

  As I make my way towards her, I loosen my tie and unbutton the top of my shirt. A pair of voices catch my attention. Balls, we’re not alone.

  “You didn’t even make it a week before you came here then,” I say, greeting my sister, and kissing Maya hello. It feels good, doesn’t it? Having my two favourite girls in one room.

  “I tried, but I needed an excuse to get away. I don’t think I can make it through another night of partying.”

  I shake my head, isn’t that a relief?

  “Look at this face, Grayson. It doesn’t deserve to be riddled with alcohol-induced wrinkles. I don’t intend to age prematurely, I’ll have you know.”

  “You should start a campaign, Layla. Replace beer bottles with water bottles. Actually, scratch that idea. I’ll be out of pocket if you do,
” I say, realising my costly mistake in that plan.

  “Whatever. What’s with the lateitude, brother?”

  I sigh, sitting heavily on one of the barstools behind the kitchen island. A feast lay on the marble surface, filled with delicious cuts of meat and other sublime European dishes my chef is famed for. There’s a mixture of everything. Tapas, Greek-style salads, pasta and fresh bread. It’s entirely Mediterranean minus the glorious weather. It’s the dinner I’ve wanted to share with Maya all day, but Layla’s beaten me to it. I don’t blame her, I’m much later than I intended to be. Besides, with my sister here, my plans for the night have changed anyway. Can’t exactly have all that rapacious sex I envisioned.

  But fuck me it’s precisely the cure I need for my spiralling emotions.

  “Oh, no. I recognise that face.” Layla’s hand touches her open mouth.

  “What’s going on, Grayson?” Maya’s eyes are wide with fear. I entwine my hand with hers, knowing this isn’t going to be easy. I told you, I don’t lie. I’m an honest guy, and isn’t this bound to come up in our relationship at some point? Old flames always have a way of flickering back to life. Don’t they? It’s time to rip off the relationship plaster. Quick and simple, and hopefully pain free.

  “I saw Sabrina tonight.”

  She stills, and I realise that using another woman’s name as the reason I’m late doesn’t quite portray the right image especially considering my playboy background. What am I thinking?

  “No fucking way. How the hell did that happen?”

  I glance at Layla, raising my brow in a tell-me-about-it way. Seriously, what were the odds? Can you feel my exasperation?

  “Ross called me in to the Foundation when I was finishing up interviews with Cam. She was there.”

  I run my hand over my face. Is it hot in here or is that just me?

  “Who’s Sabrina?” Maya’s voice is calm, but I can see in her pretty jades that she’s having a hard time with this.

  “His ex-fiancée.”

  Oh, I forgot to mention that bit before, didn’t I? My bad.

  Maya’s hand rips out of mine as she stands. “You were engaged?”

  Now, I understand her confusion. How does a womanising fellow such as myself get engaged? Well, I’ll explain in a minute, but right now I’m terrified. I feel physically sick that Maya’s about to run from me at any second, and my sister is just sitting there. Doesn’t she feel my panic? She can help me out here. Come on, Layla. Insert brain, move arse. Save me from fucking this up.

  “When I was in Uni,” I begin, urging Maya to come back to me. She doesn’t, she’s too stubborn. “We were together a few years before I popped the question,” I blurt as if it makes everything all better.

  “She manipulated him,” Layla finally interjects. Praise the cougar for my bright spark of a sister.

  “How so?” Maya softens, returning to her seat.

  “I told you about the time I spent working on the recipe for beer when I was in Uni.” She nods. “Well, Sabrina was my girlfriend at the time. I spent countless hours obsessing and perfecting my product in between all of my classes. I had little, if any, time left for her, but I didn’t notice that. We still had a certain amount of classes together so as far as I knew, we were fine.”

  I breathe heavily, this is where it gets harder. “After I sold the beer, Sabrina told me she was pregnant.” Don’t beat me to the outcome just yet, it gets worse.

  “You have a child?” Maya whispers.

  “No, I don’t, but I thought I was about to, and with the money I was about to cha-ching into my bank account I did what I thought I had to. I asked Sabrina to marry me.”

  “And she agreed, because the little slut wouldn’t tell Grayson she’d been having an affair for at least a year,” Layla explains.

  I’m not stupid. I’d been too busy working hard to make money that I didn’t notice anything else going on around me, like tunnel vision, and that included Sabrina’s infidelity.

  “When did you find out that she’d been cheating?”

  I bow my head, the pain too strong to manage. “The day I thought I watched my son being born his real father came to claim him.”

  Do you know how fucking devastating it really is to lose something you never had to begin with? This is why I suppress my feelings. Self-preservation. I won’t allow myself to go through something like that again. Can you blame me?

  Doesn’t this sound like a fucking Jeremy Kyle episode? He’d have a God damn field day digesting this bollocks to his audience.

  “Sabrina knew Grayson wasn’t the father the entire time, but his newfound wealth was about to provide her with a very comfortable future. Max, the affair guy, wanted to be a part of his son’s life so Sabrina’s dirty secret came out at a fortunate moment.”

  Trust me when I say I didn’t feel very fortunate at the time. I felt like I’d lost an entire family all over again. And who was there to mend me? My beautiful sister and Cam - the family that truly makes me rich.

  “Oh, Grayson.” Maya barrels into me, wrapping her slender arms around my neck as she hugs me tightly. The feel of her body pressed against mine is enough to make everything better. She’s what I want, what I see in my future.

  “Maya, you have to understand, I asked Sabrina to marry me out of duty. I’m not the type of guy that knocks up a girl then walks away. I pay my dues.” I huff. “I can’t even remember if I loved her because I wanted to, or that I felt obliged to.”

  She kisses my neck until she meets my lips. “Is she going to be a problem for us? Because I’ve only just started calling you my boyfriend and I don’t intend to let anything change that.”

  “I told you she’s a keeper, Grayson.”

  I roll my eyes at my sister. Yes, we all know how fucking perfect my sister is at relationship crap. Perhaps she’ll be better suited as a couples therapist than an editor.

  I give the annoying devil a slight push. “There’s nothing left of me that has anything to give Sabrina. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen her in eight years, and the fact that it was out of the blue in my Foundation just punched me square in the gut, drudging up all the betrayal and hurt I thought I’d buried for good. Never mind seeing the kid I’d imagined as mine.”

  “Then let’s forget about her, and keep the past where it belongs.”

  I breathe her in, thanking my lucky stars for gracing me with such a strong woman. “Layla, grab a bottle of champagne out of the fridge, will you?”

  “What are we celebrating?” Maya cocks her head to the side.

  “Well, before my disastrous trip tonight, I received some good news.” This is that other email I’d gotten back when we were rounding up the interviews.

  “This sounds promising.” Layla hands a glass to Maya.

  “My lawyer’s dealt with your contract termination at Enhance Graphics and Design. As of five o’clock this evening, you’ve no longer worked for them.”

  I raise my glass and clink with Maya’s, her shock evident. “How? What happened to the three months?”

  I smile devilishly. “It’s in there, but it states you would have had to have been working there for at least a year first. You’ve only been there a month. “

  “Those sneaky sons of bitches, I can’t believe I respected that place with high regard at Uni.” She chews her lip, and Christ I want to do it for her.

  “So, from nine tomorrow morning you’re officially employed at Rush House, and because we’re not launching for a couple weeks, you can sit your pretty arse at home and be paid for it.” I laugh.

  “Just what am I going to do with all that time?” She marvels.

  “I can think of a few things.”

  “Grayson, cut it out. I don’t want to hear that,” Layla whines.

  “Then leave, I told you to warn me when you’re staying. This is your punishment for ruining my date.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s ruined.” Maya shakes her head innocently, her smile lights up her face. I don’t thi
nk I’ll ever be non-stupefied by her effortless, beautiful grace.

  “Come on, eat up. There’s a monster movie marathon on tonight, and we’re watching. I’ve even got the popcorn ready.”

  I stare at Layla. “Are you dictating the events of my evening with my girlfriend?” Shit that sounds good, doesn’t it? I’m going to have to start saying it more. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.

  “Movie night sounds good to me, Grayson.”

  “I guess there’s no argument then. Feed me, wench, and then I’ll take you to my lair,” I joke, earning myself a slap to the thigh.

  You know what they say about scary films, don’t you? They’re quite the aphrodisiac. Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~ £ ~

  Have you ever been so lost in a dream that it takes a while for you to realise the sounds in your trance are actually happening? The little whimpers that metamorphose into screams and grunts have no place in your paradise, but it still takes longer than it should for you to understand that.

  This is my current conundrum, because I know those squeaky whines aren’t mine, not unless my balls have fallen off.

  And I’m pretty sure that even in the land of snores I’d know whether someone has hacked off a testicle or two.

  I’m opening my eyes from the sleepy abyss, and instantly leaping into action. Maya’s still, lying on her back with her arms at her side. I could even say she looks peaceful if it weren’t for her groaning. Have you ever seen a corpse scream? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m looking at.

  Maya seems dead, and it’s fucking freaking me out. I mean, what’s the procedure here? Do I shake her so hard her head might fall off? Do I call 999 and explain to the operator I have a moaning stiff in my bed?

  I’m going with finesse. “Maya.” I jostle her lightly to which I’m rewarded with a whopping kick to the shin. Excellent, it’s nice to know my heroics aren’t met without some payment.

  By the way, I’ve seen countless zombie films. You know what they all have in common? Patient zero always slips under the radar. This is how it starts. So, if Maya is the beginning of some outbreak, I have no doubts I’m infected, too.