“Yes,” he replies.
“And how did you meet Nina?” Again the car fills with heavy silence.
“A friend of a friend,” he answers in a soft voice.
I hear the familiar construction from the office building next to mine as Josh pulls up to the curb and stops. He turns off the car, but doesn’t get out.
“River…” he starts again.
“Was it serious?” I ask him.
“No,” he answers. But it was a lie. The inflection in his short answer tells me a completely different story.
Josh gets out of the car, then comes around to my side and opens the door. He reaches in and wraps his hand around my arm just above my elbow. As I step one foot out of the car, a familiar, faint smell passes my nose and I pause. I stand on both feet and cock my head to the side and take another sniff. Josh closes the door, and then we take two steps onto the sidewalk.
“Joss?” I find my mouth saying before my brain can correct itself.
After I cooked and cleaned up, I leave River Mason’s house and head to a specialty shop in town before I go to my next client. She’s an older, widowed client whose rich trust fund kids have moved away and left her in the care of maids and staff. I know how much she adores her mid-afternoon tea. When I get the chance, I like to stop at this cute little shop downtown that carries her favorite jasmine tea and bring her some. I love the smile it puts on her face when she sees it. Although, she has that same smile for me when I don’t bring her tea. I always schedule a little extra time to spend with Mrs. Davis after I’m done cooking to just sit down and talk. She’s so full of life and tells me the most amazing stories from when she dated her husband. Why her kids aren’t around is beyond me.
With my purchase in hand, I head back to my van parked on the busy downtown street. A sleek, black car that looks exactly like the car River and Josh left in this morning pulls up to the curb and parks as I walk by. Funny, I’ve never seen a car like this before today, and now I’ve seen two in the same day. Out of curiosity, I turn around to look at the rear of the car to read the make and model. There’s no name, just what looks like a rearing horse in the center of the trunk. My attention is pulled from the logo to the driver of the car, walking toward the passenger door. Oh my God, it’s Josh! I quickly duck around the side of a tree next to the bus stop, and then peek my head around. Josh continues to walk toward the passenger side of the car and opens the door. He reaches in and puts his hand around a very familiar looking suit jacket. I dart back behind the tree and close my eyes. I giggle at how cute they are, and then I peek back around the tree again. River puts one foot on the ground and stops.
A few seconds later his other leg appears, then he stands. He then cocks his head to the side and sniffs. What the hell is it with this guy and smelling? He’s like a damn bloodhound. Oh my God, I crack myself up! He’s a bloodhound and a food ninja. He’s a freaking bloodhound ninja. I cover my mouth to stop myself from giggling.
“Joss?” River questions.
Oh my God! He is a bloodhound ninja! I plaster myself to the tree and hold my breath. Why holding my breath will make a difference, I don’t know. Am I a loud breather or something? After the longest twenty seconds of my life, Josh takes River’s arm again and leads him into the building. I let out the breath I was holding, then take a calming, deep breath and step back out onto the sidewalk. I glance at the glass doors again that they just went through, and etched in the center of the glass are the words, Mason Group. OK, where did those come from? I’ve been down here a million times and I’ve never noticed this was Mason Group.
I head to Mrs. Davis’, then on to my last client before calling it a day. The entire time at my clients last two houses, I keep thinking about River. No matter how many times I’ve told myself River is with Josh, I just can’t get him out of my thoughts.
I pull my catering van into the garage and haul my empty cooler bags inside. Just as I put the last one on the counter, Nina comes barreling out of the office still wearing the pajamas I left her in this morning.
“Well?” she questions, excitedly.
“Well, what?” I return, unzipping the cooler bags to put empty containers and spices away.
“Don’t play coy with me young lady. How’d it go with Jo…? I mean Mr. Mason?” she asks, excitedly.
“You could have told me,” I answer, putting the spices back on the spice rack.
“Could have told you what?” she answers, reaching in the cooler bag helping me put things away.
“Oh, so now who’s playing coy? Uh, let’s see. How about that River Mason is gay,” I say, bugging out my eyeballs at her.
Seriously, I don’t care that he’s gay. I have gay friends. Shit, our neighbors Nicholas and Peter are gay and I love them to pieces. But, I would have thought that would be something she would have mentioned. But no, she mentions his view and his gorgeous kitchen and she even said he’s not bad to look at. Which he isn’t, but that’s beside the point.
“Gay?” she repeats loudly, then bursts out laughing hysterically.
“Yeah, gay,” I answer, not finding it funny at all. “He’s totally gay. Josh is always hanging all over River.”
“Oh my God, I so needed this laugh today! Joss, you’re the best! River Mason is not gay! He’s blind you half-wit. Do you live in a cave or something? And Josh…Josh is River’s personal assistant, he lives with him. River Mason is California’s most eligible, single, rich, handsome, and totally heterosexual bachelor. He was in a car accident when he was ten that left him blind and killed both of his parents.”
“He’s not gay?” I ask again. “And oh my God, his parents are both gone? That’s really sad!”
“No. He is most definitely NOT gay!” she says, grabbing her stomach, laughing again. “When he was ten, he and his little sister, Kate, who was five at the time, were in a car accident that killed his parents driving up the Pacific Coast Highway. He has an older brother, Stephen, but he wasn’t in the car. He and his brother and sister inherited the Mason business and wealth. I’m not sure where Kate is, but River and Stephen run Mason Group.”
“Well, that explains the bloodhound smelling thing he does,” I say, relieved. “Wait just one minute here, missy! If River isn’t gay, then that means Josh isn’t gay either. Before they left the house, Josh came back over to me and he specifically asked about you,” I say, walking toward her with my finger pointing at her.
“River left you in the house?” she questions, stunned.
“Stop avoiding and start talking,” I insist.
“Seriously, Mr. Mason let you stay in his house, alone?”
“OH MY GOD, you slept with Josh!” I yell.
“Uh, I need to go check on the website,” she says, walking toward the office.
I quickly follow behind her, sit in my chair across from her, and look at her face as she nervously pretends to type on her keyboard.
“Nina, what’s going on?” I ask.
She looks up at me from under her long eyelashes and sighs. Then a conversation we had when we were thirteen or fourteen plays out in my mind. We were sitting on my bed and we each had a notebook and a pen, and we were planning our business together. We were setting ground rules. The first one was, of course, that we were always going to be together, no matter what. But then I remember another rule, the one where we never date each other’s exes and we never, ever, ever date a client.
“Oh my God!” Nina shrieks.
“What?” I ask, concerned.
“River Mason just placed an order for catering services, this Saturday, at his house. He NEVER has parties at his house,” she says, excited.
“For this weekend? There’s no way we can manage that! We need at least a two week notice,” I say, bummed that we can’t take it. It would have looked good on our resume and it would have been really good money. “Wait, for how many people?” I continue, thinking if it’s not too many people maybe we actually can swing it. It would be a fabulous networking opportunity too.<
br />
“Twenty,” she replies.
“Well, that’s not too bad, I guess. At least we won’t have to hire additional catering staff,” I say.
“Yeah, we will. I’m staying at my parent’s house this weekend to water their cat. They’re in Florida for two weeks.”
“No, your parents and my parents are going out together dancing this weekend on a double date, here, in California, and you don’t water a cat, you watch a cat and we usually do that here. What are you hiding? You better start talking!”
“Damn it! I guess that’s what happens when our parents are best friends, too,” she says with a sigh, and then lowers her head to the desk and gives it a good bang.
Nina never was a good liar, especially to me. I get up from my chair, walk over to her side of the desk and plant my ass next to her head.
“What’s going on? Did you sleep with Josh? Did you guys break up? Is that why you’re not cooking for Mr. Mason anymore?” I ask.
With her head still face down, she nods her head, yes. “I guess I should have asked one question at a time. Which are you shaking your head yes to?”
“All of it,” she says, and starts crying.
I run my finger along the side of her head at her hairline and pull her hair out of her face, moving it all to the other side of her head so I can see her face. Her tears pool on the top of the desk as she continues to cry. I’m at a loss for words. I’m shocked that she didn’t tell me she and Josh were a thing. We tell each other everything. I’m surprised she didn’t have a nervous breakdown from not telling me. Like I said, Nina is a terrible liar.
Nina and I are with each other constantly. I wonder when they had time to be a thing. I’ve never seen her this upset over a guy either. She’s kind of like me in that way. We’re both not interested in a serious relationship. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to have fun. We go out all the time and, trust me, she’s always the life of the party and the girl all the guys are looking at. I don’t think Nina has paid for a drink in a bar her entire life. Guys flock to her side and I’m just along for the ride.
“You really like him, don’t you?” I ask in a soft voice.
She nods her head yes, again, and then starts to sob. I’m just so confused. I get off the desk and kneel on the floor next to her chair, so I can look up at her and see her face.
“Can you tell me what happened then?” I ask.
She scoots her chair back, and then gets on the floor with me. She shimmy’s her tiny body under her desk and leans her back against the side. I scoot closer to her and wait for her to open up.
“Josh works for Mr. Mason. He’s completely devoted to him. He’s signed both a non-disclosure agreement and a contract with him. Josh can’t date co-workers or clients of Mason Group. We’ve been sneaking around for a few months now,” she starts.
A few months! I find my lips repeating with no sound. It’s a stab to my heart! She’s been able to hide this from me for a few months!
“Josh wanted to continue seeing me, but I told him we needed to end things. I didn’t want him to lose his job over me. And I know how much Mr. Mason relies on Josh. Josh wanted to come clean to Mr. Mason and he was going to, but I just couldn’t let him do it. I couldn’t let him do that for me. So, I broke up with him and told him we couldn’t see each other anymore and that you’d be coming to cook for Mr. Mason from now on,” she finishes, then draws her knees up to her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs and starts to sob again. “So, you can clearly see that we need to hire additional staff for the catering job Saturday, because I can’t bring myself to be around Josh,” she says and starts wailing.
“Alright, so, let me break this down. When I came to River’s house this morning, Josh opened that front door like he was hoping the Queen of England were on the other side. I’ve never seen a guy’s hopes crushed so quickly by looking at me. When I came home today, you rushed into the kitchen just as excited to hear information about my day, but what you were really looking for was information on how Josh was doing, right?”
She nods her head, yes, on her knees. I’m not sure if I should be hurt because she hid all this from me, or just hurt because she’s hurting. Either way, this doesn’t seem fair. They’re both two consenting adults and they’re both miserable because they can’t be together. There has to be some way for the two of them to be together.
Then, I get a harebrained idea. The light bulb goes on and I hear a ding, ding, ding in my head! Nina has to come with me Saturday to do the catering job. Maybe if I can get River to see how much they’re both hurting by being apart, because of some stupid rule, he’ll change his mind. Right, so, how do I get Nina to come, and how do I convince River of all this? A. Just as Nina is a bad liar, she’s as stubborn as a jackass. And, B, why is it do I think I can even get close to River to convince him of all of this? I’m just a chef, not his confidant.
The curtains whisper in the light breeze as they blow in the open bedroom windows. Many nights I lay awake listening to the waves crashing and the nighttime sounds of the beach. Being awake in the middle of the night is nothing new to me. People with total blindness are susceptible to insomnia due to a circadian rhythm disorder. Not being able to see daylight messes with your internal clock. Now I lay awake in my bed with a belly full of Eggplant Parmesan as my mind clouds with childhood memories. Mixed with those are the smell of Joss and the sound of her voice as she sang in my kitchen. Her voice swirls with the memory of my mother’s in a dueling chorus. It rings out like a mythical siren in my memories. I consciously recognize that I’m letting in weakness. Weakness of memories of my mother and weakness of letting a woman invade my thoughts.
Then I feel anger as Josh, someone who I implicitly trust and rely on, directly defied our written agreement by becoming involved with Nina. I’m angry with myself that I didn’t fire him on the spot. Another weakness. That’s twice in the same day. Deception and breach of contract are grounds for immediate termination. But, I didn’t fire him. I’m not sure if I’m more angry at him for lying to me, or if I’m more angry at myself for my weakness.
I’m not weak, it’s not allowed. Since the accident, I’ve been taught and instructed by private teachers and instructors and groomed by my family’s lawyers to take over the family business and that weakness will not now, or ever, be tolerated.
My dad was a fucking hard ass and I hated him. I like to think that my mother never knew how we were instructed to be raised…no, groomed is the better word, in the instance of their death. Ever since I can remember, I swore that I’d never be like my father. I swore I’d never be so consumed by business, power, and greed to treat people the way my father treated people. Not just people, but his family, his wife, and his kids. I’d watch, even before I could really understand the true meaning, as the light in my mother’s eyes dimmed with each passing year. She became this mechanical monkey that preformed when ordered. She’d put on the happy face and turn on the charm when she had to host a business dinner, or go to charity events draped over my father’s arm. But when the fancy dress, expensive jewelry, and the makeup came off, so did her happiness.
My dad was hardly ever around and I used to wish that he were. But then, when he did grace us with his presence, he was an asshole and I wished he would leave. That boyhood struggle of needing a father figure around and the hatred I felt toward him when he was, tore me apart. That vow to not become my father is exactly what I was groomed to do and exactly who I’ve become today. For that reason, I’ve chosen to be alone. It’s a conscious decision. I will never put that look on a woman’s face that my father put on my mother’s. I will never watch the light drain from a woman because of who I am and how I treat her. I may have become the monster that I said I wouldn’t, but I won’t ever have to worry about what it will do to my children, because there will never be any. I will never subject a woman to the man I’ve become. I’ll never subject children to the monster I grew up with. I am the monster I said I would never be.
M
y blindness is not a weakness, it is my strength. When one sense is lost, the other four becomes heightened. My head constantly swirls with numbers. I count my steps. It’s become as natural as breathing, and most of the time I’m unaware that I’m even counting anymore. I know how many steps it takes from my bed to the bathroom. I know how many steps from my bedroom to the kitchen, or the front door. I know how many steps it takes to get to the entryway of a room to feel the corner that directs me to where I need to go. It takes only a fraction of a second to feel where I need my feet to take me. I can maneuver around my house and my office with the same ease as a person who can see. The imaginary blueprints of my surroundings are imprinted and memorized in my head. I see in my head what others see with their eyes. It wasn’t always this way. The learning process I endured as a child was both painful and cruel.
In my home, or in my office, or places that I frequent the blueprints in my head, is my sight. Everywhere else, I rely on Josh. He is my eyes and in my business, I need him to focus on the job, not on a woman. Josh has become a fundamental part of my life and my business.
When I was little, what I couldn’t see used to scare me. You can’t imagine what it’s like inside a little ten-year-old boy’s brain, when one day you can see and the next you can’t. When you hear people say don’t take anything for granted, you don’t really understand it until you are forced to live it. But I was taught to use it to my advantage. What I couldn’t see could be heard or smelled before anyone else. I still remember what colors look like. They’re not as bright or brilliant anymore, but when someone says, ‘the sunset over the ocean is beautiful tonight,’ I can still bring up the sight of one from my memories. But as I see one from history in my mind, I also experience what most don’t. I hear the distinct squawk of a gull as it flaps its wings over my head, whereas someone else may not have even noticed there was a bird there at all. I hear fast footsteps of a couple down the beach and a woman’s laughter. Others may have thought they were completely alone on the beach. I feel the temperature drop on my face as the sun disappears on the horizon. I can smell the twinge of salt in the air. What most say is beautiful is only a fraction of the picture. There’s so much more to experience.
I See...Love (A Different Road #1) Page 3
