Driven Collection

by K. Bromberg

  He nods, flashing me a shy smile, and I watch him walk back to the family room where his beloved comic books are sprawled haphazardly across the floor. I move my gaze from Scooter to the figure huddled on the other couch.

  Zander is static. He is in the same mute state he’s been in for the past three months he’s been in my care. He is curled into himself, an impassive expression on his face, as he watches the muted television with large, haunted eyes. He has his beloved stuffed dog, ratty and coming apart at the seams, a lifeline held tightly against his chest. His wavy brown hair curls softly at the nape of his neck. He desperately needs a haircut, but I can still hear his terrified shrieks from a month ago when he caught sight of the scissors as I approached him for a trim.

  “No change, Jax?” I murmur to Jackson who has walked up beside me, keeping my eyes on Zander.

  “Nope.” He sighs loudly, empathy rolling off him in waves. He continues in a muted tone, “His appointment with Dr. Delaney was the same. She said he just stared at her while she tried to get him to participate in the play therapy.”

  “Something is going to trigger him. Something will snap him out of his shock. Hopefully it will be sooner rather than later so we can limit damage to his subconscious...” I hold back my sorrow for the lost little boy “...and help the police figure out what happened.”

  Zander had come to us after the police found him covered in blood in his house. He had been trying to use a box of Band-Aids to stop the bleeding from the stab wounds that covered his mother. A neighbor walking her dog had overheard his mother’s strangled cries for help and called the police. She died before they arrived. It is assumed that Zander’s father committed the murder, but without Zander’s statement, the events that led up to the actual act are a mystery. With his father missing, he’s the only one who knows what happened that night.

  Zander has not uttered a word in the three months since his mother’s murder. It’s my job to make sure we provide for him in every way possible so he can dig his way out of the catatonic, repressed state he’s in. Then we can help him begin the lengthy process of healing.

  I turn from the heartbreak that is Zander and work with Jackson to get dinner finished. We work in sync, side by side, like an old married couple; we’ve had this shift together for the past two years and can now anticipate each other’s movements.

  We both work in silence, listening to the flurry of activity in The House.

  “So I heard the benefit was a success—with an unexpected entrant in the auction.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I roll my eyes in response before turning back to the sink. “And one hot and heavy make-out session backstage.”

  I drop the knife I’m washing. It clatters loudly against the stainless steel basin. I’m grateful that my back is to Jackson so he can’t see the stunned look on my face. What the hell? Someone must have seen me with Donavan. I have to remind myself to breathe as I panic, trying to figure out how to respond. I don’t need my staff gossiping about my backstage encounter.

  “What—what do you mean?” I try to sound casual, but I hope I am the only one who can hear the distress in my voice. I turn the water off, waiting for the response.

  Jackson laughs his deep, hearty laugh. “I would have loved to see you in action, Ry.”

  Shit, shit, shit! My heart races. How am I going to explain this one? I feel warmth on my cheeks as my flush spreads. I open my mouth to answer him when he continues.

  “Parading around on stage at the event you so desperately fought against.” I can hear the amusement in his voice. “My God, you must have been pissed!”

  “You have no idea.” My response is almost a whisper. I have nothing left to wash, but I keep my back to him, afraid the questions will start if he sees my face.

  “And then Bailey told me she met this hot guy—her words, not mine—and lured him backstage in typical Bailey fashion and had a hot and heavy make-out session with him.”

  I release the breath I’m holding, grateful that it was our intern Bailey bragging about her exploits rather than gossiping about her boss’s. And then I realize that sexy siren Bailey, whom all the guys at work want to date, was most likely Donavan’s first conquest on Saturday night.

  If that were the case, why would he want to go from the leggy, auburn-haired bombshell to me? Talk about reinforcing my feeling of being second choice.

  I blow my hair up out of my face. “Well, you know Bailey,” I counter, trying to phrase my next words carefully. “She definitely likes to have her fun.”

  Jax laughs, patting my back as he walks by. “That was a nice way of putting it,” he says as he starts to make the boys’ school lunches for the next day. “She’s a great girl, works hard, the kids love her … just not a girl I’d want my son to date.”

  I murmur an agreement thinking about our beguilingly sweet intern, who is only five years my junior, and her free ways. A part of me has always been jealous of girls like her. Girls who throw caution to the wind and live their life without regrets, kiss random boys recklessly, take spur of the moment road trips, and are always the life of the party. I often worry that one day I’ll look back on my life and feel like I haven’t lived. That I haven’t taken enough chances, sown my wild oats, or ventured outside my comfort zone.

  My life is safe, predictable, controlled, and always in order. I like it that way most of the time. It’s not that I’m not jealous of her because she kissed Donavan first—well maybe a little—but rather that she lives without regrets.

  I shake myself out of my thoughts, ones that I have been having more frequently with the anniversary approaching. If anything, I should have learned that life is short and I need to really live it, not stay in my safe corner as it passes me by. I pull myself from my thoughts and refocus on the task at hand.

  “Boys,” I shout over the chaos, “it’s time to come finish your homework.” I hear groans coming from various rooms because I’ve said the dreaded “H” word. Six boys, varying from eight to fifteen years old, sullenly walk toward the table, grumbling as they go.

  I look over toward the couch where Zander remains curled into himself, rocking back and forth for comfort.

  I slowly walk toward him and kneel in front of him. “Zander, do you want to join us? I can read you a book if you’d like?” I speak softly to him, slowly reaching my hand out, holding it still for him to see my intention, and rest it on his hand that rests on his knee. He continues rocking, but his blue eyes flicker over to hold mine.

  I see so many things in the depths of his eyes that shake me to the core. I smile softly at him and squeeze his hand. “We’d love for you to join us.” He remains silent but his eyes are still fused on mine. A small sliver of hope springs within me since he normally looks at me and glances away after a few seconds. “Come on, Zander, take my hand, I won’t let go if you don’t want me to.”

  He continues to stare at me for some time as I remain stock still, a reassuring smile on my face. His tiny hand moves, and he closes his fingers around my palm. He stands slowly, and we move to join the rest of the boys at the table.

  I’M DRAGGING BIG TIME. I’VE hit the last hour of my shift at The House, and the long hours of the past couple of days have caught up with me. The boys were a handful today.

  Kellen, my co-counselor, is playing tag with the boys outside. I can hear their laughter and squeals through the open windows.

  I’m in the kitchen getting everything together for dinner for the next shift when the house phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, good! You’re still there.” I hear relief tinged with excitement.

  “Just barely.” I laugh. “I have about fifteen minutes left. What can I do for you, Teddy?”

  “I know you’re probably exhausted, but is it possible for you to stop by the office on the way home?”

  It’s the last thing I want to do, as much as I love him. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep until tomorrow. “Um, okay. Sure. Is something wrong?”
>
  “Just the opposite! I think we found the solution to find the rest of the funding for the new facilities.” He says enthusiastically. “I’ll tell you about it when you get here. We’re just hammering out all of the details now.”

  “Wow! Are you serious?” My hopes start to rise. Even with the charity event and the numerous other donations we have already received, we are still shy of our goal by several million dollars. “I—I will be there as soon as I can, depending on traffic.”

  I hang up the phone, excitement bubbling inside me. All my hard work over the past two years to get the approvals, the board’s backing, the plans, the funding—it all might finally come to fruition.

  I finish preparing the dinner so all that the next shift has to do is put it in the oven. I grab my purse and overnight bag and start to gather my things. I glance at my cell phone and begrudgingly decide to check my email. Maybe I can tackle a few phone calls from them while I am in traffic.

  I scan my inbox and notice an email I’d received earlier in the day from Donavan. I contemplate just deleting it, but curiosity gets the best of me and I open it up.

  To: Rylee Thomas

  From: Ace

  Subject: Dexterous Fingers

  __________________________

  Rylee—

  You’ve left me no choice. Your lack of response has left me to take matters into my own hands.

  You remember how those felt, don’t you?

  —Ace

  Arrogant ass. I delete the email. What’s he going to do? I’m even more indifferent to him now that I know about his and Bailey’s tryst in the dressing room. Or at least I am trying to be. Come to think about it, they probably fit each other perfectly. Manwhore and maneater.

  I smile at the thought as I finish collecting my things and say goodbye to the troops.

  Traffic is unusually light as I drive toward the office. I take this as a sign that good things are going to happen. It’s a beautiful, sunny California day, unusually warm for the ending of January. What I would give to grab a towel, head to the beach and lie there, letting the sun’s warmth rejuvenate me.

  In no time at all, I pull into the parking lot of Corporate Cares. I walk quickly up to the building’s lobby, checking my reflection in the mirrored windows. I have on my favorite blue jeans that sit low on my waist and a snug, red V-neck T-shirt. Luckily I had an extra one in my bag because I don’t think Teddy would enjoy my original one that’s now splattered with Ricky’s vomit. I fuss with my hair a moment, pulling the clip from it and letting my curls fall down my back.

  After a short elevator ride, where I’m able to touch up my lip-gloss and pinch my cheeks for color, I arrive on the floor of the main office. I walk past my office, nod to several people, and exchange pleasantries on my way to Teddy’s receptionist. I note that the shutters on the conference room windows are closed and wonder what’s going on in there.

  “Hi, Sandy.”

  “Hey, Rylee. I’ll let him know you’re here. He’s expecting you.”

  I smile. “Thanks.” I walk toward the wall of windows that extends throughout the office and watch a line of cars on the freeway heading home. The ants go marching one by one.

  “That was quick!” I turn to face my boss, a broad grin on his face. “I can’t wait to bring you up to speed.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what’s going on,” I say as I follow him into his office.

  I sit down across from him in the black leather chair, happy to be off my feet.

  Teddy sits across from me, unable to contain his enthusiasm. “I got a call earlier today and have been in a meeting all afternoon hammering out a deal. Get this,” he says as he leans toward me, placing his hands on his desk, “CD Enterprises has come forward wanting to put up half of the remaining cash for the facilities as well as raise the remainder of the money by getting other companies to match or sponsor them.” His words come out in a rush of air, excitement in his eyes.

  I process his words, trying to formulate a coherent thought. I can’t believe this is really happening. “What? How? Wow!” I laugh, caught up in Teddy’s whirlwind.

  “I am still fine-tuning the finishing details of it. Colton’s in the conference room right now.” He motions with his hand toward the hallway. “I’ll bring you in there in a second to reintroduce you.”

  “We’ve met?”

  “Yes, I introduced you to him on Saturday at the benefit.”

  “You introduced me to a lot of people at the benefit,” I tell him, laughing. “So many I couldn’t keep their names and faces straight. Let’s hope I remember what conversation I had with him so I don’t look like an ass.”

  He laughs at me, the reassuring sound booming off the walls of his office. “I’m sure you’ll be fine! Anyway, this could be it, kid! All your hard work finally coming to fruition!”

  “This is so great, Teddy!” Relief overtakes me. We’d been told earlier in the week that without the complete funding, the project might be delayed for another eight months to a year.

  “Almost too good to be true, really.” He shakes his head. “I have to tell you though, Ry, I’m gonna have to depend on you to help me with this. They want a dedicated person from our office to work side-by-side with theirs, and they requested you.”

  I nod despite being confused by why or how the company knows me. It doesn’t matter. What matters is getting the funding. “Sure, I’ll do anything. You know that.” I put my hand up to my chest, covering my heart. “I can’t believe it! Whatever you need, I’ll do, to get this funding—to keep this ball rolling.”

  “That’s my girl! I knew I could count on you!” He rises from his desk. “C’mon, I can’t wait for you and Colton to reacquaint yourselves and go over the fine print on the agreement.”

  I follow him down the hallway, feeling a little insecure about my attire. I’m underdressed for a business meeting, but if Teddy doesn’t care, neither should I.

  “Here she is, Colton,” Teddy announces as he enters the conference room ahead of me.

  I turn the corner, walk through the doorway and come to a dead stop. Donavan is sitting in a chair at the other end of the conference table, a stack of papers in front of him. His arms are crossed casually over his chest, and his biceps pull noticeably at the sleeves of his polo shirt. His eyes meet mine and his mouth spreads into a slow, smug smile.

  What the hell? I stop in the doorway looking at Teddy and back to Donavan. “I—I don’t under—understand?” I stammer.

  The appalled look on Teddy’s face tells me that I’ve made a serious blunder in my reaction. “Rylee?” he questions as he looks at Donavan quickly, making sure I haven’t offended him, and then back at me, a warning on his face. “Rylee, what are you talking about? This is Colton Donavan, among other things, the CEO of CD Enterprises—I introduced you to him the other night?”

  All at once, my world turns and tilts on its axis. My head is reeling from the fact that the man across from me—the man who reduced me to a puddle of sensation the other night—is none other than Colton Donavan. The Colton Donavan—hot and upcoming racecar driver extraordinaire, son of a mega-Hollywood-movie director, and the serial philanderer who provides the tabloids constant fodder for their gossip columns.

  The Colton Donavan who left me with salacious dreams and a carnal, unrequited craving since last Saturday. Fuck me!

  I can’t believe that I didn’t put it together sooner. I knew he seemed familiar when I met him, but I realize I wasn’t thinking rationally either. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this. All of the air has been punched out of my lungs.

  My head swivels from Teddy to Dona-er-Colton and back to Teddy. From the way Teddy is staring at me, the look on my face must be quite unpleasant. I look down, take a deep breath, and try to compose myself and quiet the emotions rioting through my head. I can’t screw up this donation regardless of my feelings—there is too much at stake.

  “Um—I apologize,” I say softly, “I just—I thought your nam
e was Donavan.” I walk further into the room, gaining confidence, telling myself I can do this. “I misunderstood when we met the other night …” The quick flash of Colton’s grin stops me cold.

  You can do this, I repeat to myself like a mantra. I refuse to let him know that he has this effect on me.

  I hold my head up and walk with purpose to where he sits, holding out my hand and plastering a smile to my face. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Donavan.”

  I can hear the deep breath Teddy has been holding—afraid my reaction has possibly hampered this deal—release. The tension in his face ebbs.

  “Colton, please,” Donavan says as he unfolds himself gracefully from his chair and rises, taking my hand in his, holding it a beat longer than necessary. “Nice to see you again too.” A spark flashes through his emerald eyes.

  “Please, let’s all sit,” Teddy says enthusiastically. “Colton, I’ll let you fill Rylee in on your company’s proposal.”

  “I’d be glad to, Teddy.” Colton says professionally, all business, as he shifts his chair to face me, placing a packet of paper in front of me. “CD Enterprises is invested in giving back to our community. On a yearly basis, my team and I choose an organization and devote time, connections, and funds to create awareness for their cause. After unexpectedly attending your function last weekend in my mother’s place when she fell ill, I found your organization to be inspiring.”

  I observe him while he continues on with facts and figures of past organizations that CD Enterprises has supported. I’m having a hard time understanding how this professional, put-together man is the same person who reduced me to tremors and whimpers.