“Good. Keep it that away.”
“Regarding the firing of Ashleys and the rest of extra staff, may I suggest you give them all a chance and ease them into work?” Jeremy is still adamant on saving their jobs. “They would prove to be beneficial in the long run. If they can manipulate you, they can certainly manipulate the clients and bring business.”
They are manipulative enough to sell a custom-made fire insurance policy to the devil for his hell! But from what I have seen today, they simply don’t care about their job. The laziness has reached their blood. And the fact that they think of having the job security of the best kind is only fueling their lackluster attitude.
“All right. If that’s what you want, I’ll give them one more month. But I highly doubt that they would take the work seriously. If only I have a strict, authoritative business manager who knows how to make them work? Todd, do I have a business manager?”
“Of course, you have. He is a very young, talented man. You are lucky to have him.” He shoots me the same smile as he did earlier while introducing himself as the HR.
“You?! How many positions do you hold?”
He starts counting on his fingertips. “Seven.”
“No wonder this company is in ruins,” I say, getting back behind the canvas to complete the painting.
“Then, why don’t you hire your girlfriend as your business manager? Oh, wait! You can’t. You still don’t know where to find her and would never know until you finish her painting.”
Todd taunts me for the lack of details I have for the woman I love. Gosh . . . I don’t even know her name to do a google search.
“Shut up, Todd!” Agreed, I was out of the line, but so does he for bringing her into all this.
“You are making a painting of her?” Jeremy asks.
“Yes. I think Todd would recognize her if she was ever in my life, and point me in the right direction.”
“That’s a good idea, Brandon. How is it coming along?”
Jeremy unknowingly struck my nerve with that question. I shiver in anger and swallow a breath to prevent my outburst. I don’t want to yell at Jeremy after he just got beaten up by the Ashleys.
“Fine,” I say, clutching the paintbrush, tightly.
There is a knock on the door. I hope it’s not one of the Ashleys with a complaint against Jeremy.
“Come in!” I say in a loud tone.
I gaze over the canvas, only to find a petite young girl standing at the door. She is wearing a simple outfit, her blonde hair is not combed well, and has some cute freckles on her cheeks. With the innocence of a newborn baby on her face, she looks beautiful in her own way.
“She is Rebecca, one of the six girls you gave a raise.” Todd introduces her in a low tone and makes me aware of who she is.
“Come in, Rebecca,” Todd says. “She asked for time to see you, and I told her to come after lunch.”
Rebecca enters my office with her head down.
“Rebecca, what can I do you for?” I wipe my hands on the Apron, and comes out from behind the canvas to stand before her.
“Thanks for seeing me,” she says, still looking down on the floor.
“Of course,” I say. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I am here to give you these,” she says, giving me a couple of white envelopes.
“What’s this?”
“That’s the resignation letters of my friends and me. We really appreciate the raise, but I am afraid we can’t work here anymore. We will forever remain grateful to you for hiring and showing us the ropes of this business.”
“That’s a weird way of showing gratitude by slamming the resignation letters. May I ask why do you and your friends want to leave the company?”
“Everyone knows what a raise and promotion mean around here,” she says hesitantly.
Todd clears his throat loudly to get my attention, and then made a hand gesture for sex.
“Is there something on my shoe, Rebecca?” I ask her politely.
“No.”
“Something wrong with your back or neck?”
“No.”
“Then stand straight, hold your head high, and look me straight in the eye when you talk to me,” I say in an assertive tone. “You are a strong, independent woman, not my slave.”
All right, I may have crossed the line of assertiveness. The poor girl is shaking, but at least, she is looking at me now.
I tear up their resignation letters right before her eyes and then, grab her by her arm. She gasps, her eyes widen, expecting something that will tarnish her dignity. I put the pieces of the torn-up resignation letters in her palm, closes her fist, and let go of her arm.
“Your resignations are rejected,” I say, looking in her surprised, hazel eyes. “Give my message to your friends. Tell them that Mr. Bryce has sincerely apologized for creating a hostile working environment. But everything is in the past now. From now on, women in this company will not be judged and appraised on their looks, hair, and certainly not on their body measurements, but solely by their work. He has also promised a safe working environment, free from any sexual slurs, derogatory remarks, and unwanted sexual advances. But he has refused to come to terms with occasional patting on the back for a job well done even if we don’t like it.” I give her a pat on her back and lead her to the door. “Now, get back to your place and continue with the fine work that you have been doing around here.”
“Thank you.” She smiles and nods her head, tears flooding her eyes.
I didn’t know that doing the right thing feels so good. I am experiencing a wide spectrum of emotions inside me that are difficult for me to explain. My life has turned a new leaf. Now, it’s not just about my love for ‘the blonde who got away,’ it’s about building a legacy I would be proud of.
“AAAAHH!”
Before I could even close the door, Todd’s shriek gives a swift kick to the spectrum of feelings I begin to experience.
I turn around and find Todd before the canvas with his eyes opened wide in shock.
“My heart . . .” Jeremy is leaning on the wall and searching for his heart medication in his pockets. “Water,” he says in a weak voice.
“Water,” I mumble in my disoriented state and pour a glass of water for Jeremy. I then help him take his heart medication and lead him back to the couch.
“Look what do you did?” I shove Todd, not with much force, that he would land next to Jeremy on the couch like a bump on the log. “Who told you to look at my painting without asking me first?”
He takes the already half-empty glass out of Jeremy’s hand and chugs it all down. “Tonight, I am going to sleep with lights on.” He is still in shock and not blinking much.
“Try not sleeping for a week. It’s so horrible.” Jeremy wipes the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “After looking at this painting, only one word comes in my mind.
“Salem!” Jeremy and Todd say in unison.
“All right. You are exaggerating. The painting isn’t finished yet,” I say.
“What are you waiting for?” Todd says. “Put a broom under her legs and get it done with.”
“She doesn’t look like a witch, does she?” I turn the canvas around, and Jeremy takes a jump from his seat.
“Make that a month of sleepless nights,” he says, covering up his eyes. “Turn it around!”
“What are you talking about, Jeremy? She is gorgeous—beautiful than all the Ashleys combined.”
“I don’t see the angelic beauty, the divine smile, the alluring eyes, you so dearly explained to me. Brandon, either you are in love with a witch or—"
“I can’t paint.” As an artist smitten by its own creation, I don’t want to admit, but after popular opinion, I take a good look at my painting and deduces this. “I think I have lost my ability to paint.”
“He still thinks!” Todd throws his hand in the air. “After the brain injury, people are known to get the ability to play piano, to paint, to sing, but in his
case, he got the will to cook and lost the ability to paint. A real downgrade if you ask me.”
“How will I find her if I can’t put her face on the canvass for you to recognize?” I say with concern.
“I have an idea,” Jeremy says. “You remember the woman from our adjacent building who threw her shoes at you on your first night back from the hospital? She is an artist. She works mostly with clay, but from what I have heard, she is talented enough to sculpt the clay into a face from just hearing the description. Shall we seek her help?”
“And risk myself becoming a eunuch—no, thank you,” I say. “She is a clay artist. Who knows how many sharp, pointy equipment she has at her disposal that she could throw at me? And with an aim like her, it would be hard to tell where that equipment would hit.”
I go ahead and sit next to Todd, filling the last seat on the couch.
“Besides, I don’t want any outsider in on this. Usually, when I see or imagine her, I become very emotional and sensitive, and if during that state, I blurt out about me forgetting everything about my past, it could have serious repercussion. I don’t know how many enemies I have made over the years, and God knows how many of those are camouflaging themselves as my friend. Apart from you two, I don’t trust anyone.”
“Then, trust me when I say this . . . I will find her for you.” Todd stands up, feeling motivated, holding his head high. “We will find her the old-fashioned way.”
Chapter 19
I KEEP MYSELF BUSY with work now. I stopped hallucinating her a long time back. It was either Jeremy’s slap or six-hour-long session with Professor Able that did the trick. The day is easier to spend, facing resistant of the ladies at the office. Yep, they are still having difficulty in assuming a working role in the company. And in the evening, playing cards with Jeremy and Todd while having fondue makes me forget about her. But at night, the feeling of loneliness comes back eventually when I look at the empty side of the bed.
It has been four months since I am back, and during this time, I have been hit many times by women willing to share my bed for the night. But none of them were her—not even close. This empty side of the bed will forever be reserved for her—just like my heart.
It’s not like we didn’t try to find her. We did everything we could think of. Even Todd’s old-fashioned way, and by the old-fashioned way, Todd meant tracing my step all the way back to where it all started—Chicago, Illinois.
After staying the night there, Todd concluded that we had gone way back. But we still spent a few days there as I wanted to breathe in the air of my hometown some more and see a Cub’s game even if I don’t recognize any of the team players. I am an avid Cub’s fan—or so I have been told—who doesn’t think twice when it comes down to littering the football field.
I have seen enough in the three days to realize why my forefathers chose to stay here. It feels like home. But one thing I didn’t see was my own home. I am still not ready to face my parents—not until I become something, they will be proud of.
Next, we visited Los Angeles—the home of the stars; the creative capital of the world; famous for Hollywood sign; Walk of Fame, and traffic on 405 freeway. Here, it’s easier to spot a celebrity—God, there are so many B-lister—but not somebody that you are actually looking for. We had no luck there, just like we didn’t have any luck of being discovered even a decade later. At least, now I know why it’s densely populated. Every one in six works in the creative industry, and for a place called ‘City of Angels,’ there is not much angelic intervention.
We came back to New York to clear our head and have pizza. I know what you are thinking. Pizza?! It really isn’t a New York-style pizza unless you have it in New York. Let’s just say, when the last chapter between the ultimate showdown of New York v/s Los Angeles will be written, all will rest on who has the best pizza, and so far, New York is leading.
After that, we took Jeremy with us and went on a road trip to Atlantic City, followed by a flight to Las Vegas. Now that I think of it, it was just a gambling trip; we didn’t really look for her there.
‘The blonde who got away’ is important to me, but so does my friends—equally. All right, maybe not equally, but spending some quality time with friends is important. And what’s better than losing money on the craps table, having a go at the Wheel of Fortune machine with your friends on either side and thrown out of the casino when your old friend is caught counting cards. He had to mumble while counting cards?!
15 days later, after an unsuccessful quest in 12 cities, thousands of dollars spent, countless hours wasted on cyberstalking, questioned multiple times by cops for mysteriously hanging around my exes’ buildings, we finally came back to New York for good. ‘The blonde who got away’ has really gone away.
With no name to put to her image in my head, no idea left as to how to pursue her, I have no option but to leave it all up to the guy upstairs.
If my love is pure; if it’s not just an infatuation, but means something deeper; if it’s not just lust of having her in my bed—I’ll meet her.
Fate will make me meet her.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU can’t make it?”
I am parked in the driveway of a Long Island suburban home, talking to Todd on the phone. He was supposed to be here by now to look at this distressed property we are interested in buying, but he is canceling on me at the last minute.
“I am sorry, but I am stuck here,” he whispers while the water runs in the background.
“Where? Niagara Falls?”
“I am in the apartment of a girl I met last night in the bar. I think there is an opportunity for morning sex. I am going to wait and see how it turns out. God! I am so horny.”
“No! Come here. What am I going to do here alone?
“I am sorry I can’t. She is into BBC. I am into her big white ass. It’s perfect. You have already ruined the office for me with your harassment-free workplace policy. I am not going to let you ruin this for me.”
“Wow! You seem determined.”
“So is my dick.”
“I didn’t need to hear that.” I cringe. “Now, that image will haunt me for the rest of the day.”
“Well, you deserve it, you cock blocker!”
“All right, calm down. There is no need to call names. I see you are clearly agitated with my decision on office policy. And I can smell build-up testosterone through the phone. So, you do what you gotta do to clean those pipes, and I will reschedule the appointment with the realtor.”
“Are you kidding? That property is too good to be on the market for long. Make an offer today.”
“You think I am ready to fly solo?”
“Yes, you are. You were on fire during the last two deals—practically on auto-pilot. I was only there for moral support. Remember one thing, if Leonardo DiCaprio is the wolf of Wall Street, then you are the hound of the real estate.”
“I don’t really get that reference, but I love it. It could be the title of our new movie ‘Wolf of Wall Street.’
“Yeah, about that. That movie had already been released in 2013. We liked it so much that we even recreated all the coke-snorting and hooker-fucking scenes, which is basically half of the movie.”
“That’s a bummer. I really had my heart set on that name. What about ‘Hound of the Real estate’?”
“I believe there is no movie title by that name yet. I will look into it and get it registered.”
I hear a door knocking from Todd’s side.
“Coming . . . All right, I am going to go. She has woken up, and I don’t want her to think that I am clogging her toilet.”
Todd hangs up the phone abruptly without even saying goodbye or wishing me luck. I take the keys off the ignition and turns to open the car door, only to find a goofy face of a woman pressed against the car window.
“Aaah!” I let out a scream at the top of my lungs, placing my hand on my chest in horror. “Jesus!” She made my heart beat fast—and not in a good way.
She knocks o
n the window and gestures me to roll down the window.
“You startled me?” I say.
“So I’ve been told by many,” she says with an awkward laugh, and then goes quiet.
I pity those who had the bad luck of playing ‘hide and seek’ with her in their childhood. She must have sent one or two on the trip to the ER like this.
“Are you by any chance, Mr. Bryce?” she nervously asks, pushing her big glasses up her nose to her beady eyes.
“I am, yes.”
“Hi, I am Stacey.” She doesn’t even wait for me to come out of the car and extends her hand through the window to introduce herself. “We talked on the phone yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, the realtor.” I shake her hand, sweaty as hell, and wipe my hand on my pants before coming out.
She looks disoriented and nervous. Her outfit doesn’t match; her hair undone. She is wearing flat sandals with different color socks, and clutching the pen in her hand as if she wants to squeeze the life out of it.
This girl is a mess. I don’t think she has ever closed a deal in her life. Then again—neither have I.
Oh . . . did I mention that she is a blonde? Like I need more blondes in my life.
“Shall we go inside?” she says while pushing her glasses up her nose to the limit.
Lady, if you continue to push your glasses like this, you will be left with only glasses and no eyes.
“Sure.” I smile. “Lead the way.”
She tries to return my smile with a smile of her own but ends up giving me a restrained chuckle. I follow her inside, and she starts off with the tour of the house.
“It is a contemporary style home for a single family, built in 1988. This 3-bedroom, 2.5-bathroom home has all copper piping, a modular kitchen with modern appliances, and a spacious living room. You can host a little get together of friends without any worry.”
For the girl who seems a mess, she is quite good at her job.
“I wish you would invite me to one of your party. Wouldn’t that be funny? Me . . . You . . . Friends . . . ,” she says in between her snorty laugh. The girl absolutely is aching to make some friends.
Dreamy Distraction (Quest for Love Book 1) Page 14
