Flawed

by Claudia Burgoa

  “My goal is to bring a new business approach to the company while following the philosophy of Everhart Enterprises.” I take my pen and draw a squiggly line through that statement, making sure I don’t repeat those words during the rest of the interview.

  “If we offer you the job, how soon can you start?” Scott inquires after a long pause.

  How about now? They don’t know how important it is for me to start with my investigation. If I could, I’d have arrived weeks ago. However, my supervisor is an asshole who is setting me up to fail.

  Who tells an asset to go and get her own shit? My boss. And I’ll show him that I can find a job and do my work at the same time.

  “It depends. As I said at the beginning of the interview, my dream is to live in New York. Though moving has to be right. I love my current job, but I would like to find just the right position where I can move forward,” I lie and feel a little sorry about the situation. The reminder that my job is to catch pedophiles and save children dissipates the guilt. For now, they have to think that I’m the best out there and they are lucky to get me, even though the only business transactions I’ve made in my life are when I go shopping. I know about balancing my checkbook, but I don’t do it often. And my knowledge about marketing is that I know those suckers know how to sell me cute clothing.

  “How soon are you planning to make a decision?” I pull out my phone checking on the calendar.

  “We need someone who can start within a week,” Hazel responds. “Are you sure you can move to New York that fast?”

  “A friend of a friend is subletting me his apartment,” I lie because Lucas, my brother, hasn’t confirmed anything about housing.

  Luna: Is the apartment available?

  Lucas: What apartment?

  Luna: I’m moving to New York. Remember?

  “New York is my dream city, I want to live there. At least for a few years.”

  “What about your other job?” Hazel narrows her gaze, waiting for me to slip. Or is it to make sure I’m reliable? She seems to be obsessed with plans and long-term commitments.

  “I have some vacation time accumulated.” I come up with the best plan to move into my new job ASAP. That is if they are going to give it to me. Please, hire me now! “If you offer me the job, I can start as early as next week. That gives me plenty of time to pack and say my goodbyes—while still giving my two-week notice.”

  Lucas: You can’t move.

  Luna: It isn’t optional.

  Lucas: I’m still in denial. Also, I’m working on your situation.

  “Do you have any questions for us?” Scott asks.

  “Can you tell me more about the day-to-day responsibilities of this job?” I click on my recorder and continue texting my brother.

  He doesn’t get it, does he? I don’t choose my assignments. If he and my father don’t like them, it doesn’t matter.

  Luna: Well, my situation is that I am moving to New York soon. Is the apartment available?

  Lucas: The place is yours for at least six months.

  Luna: Thank you. You can always come visit.

  Lucas: Have you told Abue about it?

  Luna: Once I have secured a job and the transfer, I’ll make sure our father is the one who takes the bullet. :D

  “What is the typical career path for someone in this role?” I continue with my questions toward my interviewers.

  Lucas: You’re evil and smart.

  I learned from his past experiences. A few years back my brother moved temporarily to San Francisco. He told Abuela that he was leaving weeks before it happened. Worst idea ever. Every day she brought her best guilt-trip game. She played the I’m going to die before you’re back card more often than she drank her café con leche. She drinks at least ten cups a day—it keeps her younger. I love her dearly. She’s like a mother to me, but I can’t handle those guilt-trips.

  It won’t be long before my grandmother takes the train to New York to drag me back. Moving from Alexandria to that city is going to give her a heart attack. I choose to miss the melodramatic display. I don’t know how long I’m staying in Manhattan, but I’ll make sure to take the train at least once a month on the weekends, unlike Lucas who never came to visit us. She almost disowned him.

  How can he put his job before family?

  Family comes first.

  We should remain together.

  To her, we have to be so close that we should live in the same city or neighborhood. She’ll love me the most if I live next door. But I can’t move out of the house until I marry a good Mexican man. A hot Latino is acceptable too. That’s what good girls do. She thinks I’m still a virgin because no granddaughter of hers will be deflowered before she marries.

  Sex, grandma, it’s called sex.

  I stare at the monitor, listening to Hazel Beesley speak about the incredible career track ahead of me. About all the benefits and opportunities within the company. They sound great, but I don’t care much about the business world.

  Luna: I’m not evil. I just choose not to face the telenovela scene.

  Lucas: Change your phone number and, your name, and perhaps she won’t find you.

  Luna: She’ll send the hellhounds.

  “What are the next steps in the interview process?” I ask, hoping that they haven’t noticed that I’m only half-listening to the conversation.

  “We have a few other candidates to interview today,” Scott answers promptly. “Our board will get together afterward, and we will be making a decision as early as Friday.”

  “Once we make that decision, we will want to move fast. Please, call me if you need help with the logistics of your move,” Hazel continues.

  Those words grab my attention. Moving fast is something we agreed on one hundred percent. I reach for my pen to write down Hazel’s cell number when I hear the door. Damn it. I needed just a few more minutes.

  “Mijita, estas preparando el almuerzo?” My grandma and her timing. Is she serious? Sorry, but I can’t prepare lunch and find a job at the same time, Abue. She enters in the kitchen with my abuelo right behind her. He gives me a slight shrug. Yeah, I know he did his best to stall her. “Me da gusto que ya dejaste ese trabajo en la policia? Porque eso es solo para hombres.”

  My face falls, what the hell is wrong with my grandmother. I cross my fingers, hoping that they don’t know Spanish or that their knowledge of the Spanish language is limited to the basics. If not, my cover has been compromised before it even began.

  How can she ask about my job? At least she didn’t say the FBI. But damn she’s back with her lecture that what I do is only for men. Her old-school attitude irritates me. I might stay in New York forever.

  “Well, that’s all for now.” Hazel is the first one to speak after the embarrassing silence created by the intruders in the kitchen.

  “Yes, I think that’s all we needed to know.” Scott’s jaw sets and nods once toward Hazel who shakes her head slightly. I serve the screen a charming smile, hoping they have no idea what Grandma said. “Have a good lunch, Miss Galvez.”

  “Thank you for your time.” I huff turning off the video call.

  My stomach churns. It’s either hunger or my gut telling me that I flunked the interview. Going to my browser, I pull up my daily horoscope.

  Under today’s outspoken moon, uttering out the first thing that comes to mind is an unsafe action. Unless, of course, you’ve got an ingenious idea.

  Oh, God. I didn’t say anything stupid, but it was stupid to have the interview at home. Carajo! Why didn’t I read this before I scheduled the time?

  Luna: I need to continue my search.

  Lucas: For what?

  Luna: A job.

  Lucas: I thought you already had it. Not that I want you to leave.

  Luna: Well, my horoscope said so, and Abue entered the kitchen right when I was about to end the interview.

  Lucas: You have to stop reading that shit! You’re so smart. I just don’t get why you base 99% of your decisions on
what those sites say.

  Luna: I love you, but this time it’s not a hypothesis. She mentioned my job with the police.

  Lucas: Fuck! Get something along the lines of your quirks, like a tarot reading or . . . Shit, you’re fucked.

  Yep, shit and fuck are just about right. But his stupid comments about my quirks aren’t welcomed. I love my brother, but he’s never going to understand it. If Mom were here, she’d agree with me.

  “What would you like me to prepare for lunch?” I rise from my seat, taking off my blazer and my button-down blouse, leaving me in a sleeveless sundress.

  “That’s more like you, Luna,” Abue says, taking the clothing, I discard and folding them neatly. “You should find a husband. Men pay more attention if you wear those pretty dresses. I need some grandbabies to spoil.”

  “My mission in life.” I kiss her on the cheek and march to the fridge.

  You can only teach so many tricks to an old dog, but to my abuelita, there’s nothing I can teach her. She knows it all. At least that’s what she says.

  Found

  All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to choose me.

  My mother didn’t.

  My father didn’t.

  The beautiful boy next door, who grew up to marry me, didn’t. Neither did the next man with whom I thought my heart was safe.

  * * *

  Back in the Bay area, three thousand miles from New York City, I can start fresh. Become one with the sea again, rise or fall on the tide of my own choices. But on the first day of my bright new life, the darkest shadows of my past follow me through my office door.

  * * *

  The two men whose names are definitely not on my five-year plan.

  * * *

  If I let it consume me—my need for one man, my love for the other—the darkness will swallow me whole.

  I can’t let that happen.

  Not again. This time, the waves of emotion crashing against my heart won’t drown me. This time, I get to choose my happy ending.

  * * *

  You’ll love this breathtaking friends-to-lovers contemporary romance.

  “What are the three words that best describe you?” the reporter on the other side of the line asks after I disclose the projected revenues for the next quarter.

  I stare at my phone and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking. There are more than three. Committed, resilient, stubborn, impatient, quiet, reserved … I drum my fingers on top of my desk searching for the best words to use in this case.

  As a businessman, I’m … “Persistent, fearless and adaptable,” I respond promptly, checking the time. This interview is taking longer than I anticipated.

  My brothers would say I’m logical, disciplined, and heartless. They have given me a few nicknames like The Tinman and Ironman.

  “Adaptable?” The reporter’s voice carries a hint of curiosity. “I like that word. Would you mind expanding, Mr. Everhart?”

  “Well, it’s my policy that our company adapts to the economic, social, and political changes our world experiences, just like we all try to.”

  “Would you say that your philosophy is to adapt or die?”

  “Isn’t it everyone’s?” I ask, not caring how she responds, only how long she takes.

  I frown. Adaptation is a verb I use often when asked what's the key to my success. The truth is that I have continued the legacy that my father left behind. But I never say that out loud. I avoid mentioning my parents, hating the intrusive questions about their deaths. They are officially off limits. I still remember the pity looks and sad, morbid stories printed about the orphan raising his younger siblings.

  Everyone remembers September 11th. But the date holds a different significance for me, because that morning I lost my parents. I press a fist against my chest, pushing away the sad memories. Their voices, their directives, continuously play in my head. Their last words, their requests and the need to remind me that no matter where they are, they were still right next to me.

  The call came through in the middle of class. Although I barely used my cell phone, I answered it when it rang. My parents only called me when there was an emergency.

  “Scott, I need you to come back home.” Mom used the calmest voice she could fathom, but I sensed the edgy tone of desperation.

  Something was wrong. My stomach dropped, but I didn’t ask any questions. I rose from my seat grabbing my things and left the classroom.

  “Talk to me, Mom. What’s going on?” I asked, rushing toward the dorm.

  “Harrison will explain everything,” she said, her voice breaking.

  My limbs tingled as the anxiety in her voice spiked.

  “I want you to remember that we love you,” she sobbed. “I love you so much, Scotty. You're my strong, sensitive boy. Please remember everything I taught you. I’ll be watching you from the moon and I’ll love you forever.”

  I froze. Shocked by the finality of her words. My pulse slowed down as she repeated the words she said when she tucked us in when we were younger. A phrase that she made up from two of the books she used to read us when we were little.

  “Mom, wait.” I felt sick to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

  My limbs tingled. Fear rushed through me as I waited for an answer. For some reassurance that they’re going on a long trip, but I’d see them soon. Panic buzzed in my ears, every second that passed felt like a year.

  “I need you to be the glue of our family, keep everyone together.” I heard her cry, and my father murmuring in the background.

  “I can’t, Chris,” she wailed, calling Dad.

  “Mom?”

  My father answered. “It’s time for us to leave, Scott. I’ll take care of her. You help Harrison take care of your brothers.” I could still hear Mom in the background, crying.

  His voice was dry, sad… desperate. He didn’t break as he reminded me of their will. The lawyers, the safe, all the essential details.

  I remained mute, trembling.

  Still.

  Unable to understand what’s happening.

  “I love you, son,” he said. “Be the bridge. Stay strong.”

  My parents used to say that I was the link between my brothers. I was the one who kept the peace—or started the biggest fights.

  “I love you both,” I mumbled as the line went dead.

  My oldest brother, Harrison, called me almost immediately. “I have no idea what’s going on, Scott. Two planes crashed into the towers. There’s a rumor that we’re under attack. Maybe this is war.”

  I huffed, pushing away the sadness. Keeping my shit together while we spoke. “Not another one of your conspiracy theories, Harrison. You need to stop making up shit.”

  “This isn’t a joke. The World Trade Center is burning down.” He stopped, exhaling several times. “Raging fire is consuming the steel and glass along with all the people who are trapped. Mom and Dad included. We need you back.”

  I reached my room, opening the door I began searching for my duffle bag.

  “Dad mentioned it; I’m already packing.” I used my cool voice. If I wanted him to treat me as his equal, I had to show him that I was strong.

  “Good. Jensen is locating a car service for you. From this point forward, we are in charge. You can’t lose your shit. I’m picking up Hunter from school.”

  Harrison was planning, making decisions and pushing away all his feelings. I had to do the same and be ready for what would happen next. For a couple of hours, I allowed myself to cry. I cried until my eyes dried. Until I felt strong enough to help Harrison and care for Hunter and Fitz.

  I adjusted, as everyone expected. Harry’s rage was so intense that he chose to enlist in the army. Leaving the company to me. I didn't mind taking over, even when he had the experience. Everything I do in regard to Everhart Industries is with my brothers in mind.

  “They warned me that you’d be cryptic.”

  I arch an eyebrow toward the phone. Who is she talking about? I’m curious, but I resist askin
g. I want this interview to be over soon. I text my brother, Fitz while I wait for her next question.

  Scott: Fitz do you have the contracts ready?

  “I think I got most of my answers,” she sighs on the other line. “For my last question, I’ll be quick.”

  “What fulfills you?” she asks. “I’m sure there’s more underneath. CEO suits you, but what makes you…you. What makes you want to be a better Scott Everhart?”

  I turn to my computer screen, holding the phone with one hand and clicking the mouse with the free one until it wakes. The home screen is the snapshot of the one person who fulfills my dreams, my fantasies, and my life. She’s the one who makes me want to be a better person.

  Hazel Beesley

  Her long brown locks draped over her bare shoulders. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes stare at the camera, and her smile is wide and bright. Of all the unforeseeable curveballs thrown my way, she’s the biggest, brightest and best I’ve had to confront in my entire life. She’s the most terrifying challenge, and the most amazing reward. My heart aches with her absence, just like my skin withers without her touch. She makes me want to be a better Scott Everhart.

  “My family,” I don't elaborate any further. “If that’s everything, Miss Krauss, I have a plane to catch.”

  Until I Fall

  Wine. Gin. Tequila. Any kind of alcohol should do the trick. New plan: for the next seventy-two hours I'll sleep, binge watch movies and drink all the alcohol in the house. The ER of a hospital is like a never-ending reality show: bad acting, too much drama and there's always that one bitch who wants to rule them all. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's perfect for me. A fast-paced work environment keeps me busy and sane. Focusing on others helps me balance my emotions—or rather helps me forget about them. Today my brain and body are drained, but my soul is restless. My heart beats erratically. I can feel it, another anxiety attack. I won’t let it happen. Nothing like self-medication to snap me out of whatever’s happening.