I always have terrible guilt about the people I have to rank at the bottom. Especially if they have families. Delivering bad news never, ever gets easier. Sitting at my dining room table, I recheck all the numbers I’ve calculated. This is not something you want to get wrong. It’s actually not something I want to do at all.
Stretching out my arms and shoulders, I think maybe I’ll take a break and shoot my daily photo for Hale. It’s become quite the joke between us as I place the mermaid in a different position every night. Just as I reach for my phone, it rings. Perfect timing for a break.
“Hey Monica,” I answer the phone, “what’s up?”
“Do you fucking believe the photo that skank had the nerve to send us?” I hear the indignation and anger in her voice.
“What photo?” I have no clue what she’s talking about.
“You haven’t seen it?” Her voice rises an octave.
“No, sorry. I’ve been working on something for Kemp.”
“Check your texts. Now.” The now is emphasized.
“Okay, hold on.” Pulling the phone from my face, I go into my texts. There is only one unread one. It’s from Robyn Stiles. That’s odd, I think. Robyn’s never texted me before. Why would she be texting me?
It’s a group text to me, Monica and Beverly. Hands off, girls. He’s right where he belongs. #Mine Below the text is a photo.
“Hold on,” Dropping my phone to the table, I dash to the bathroom, sinking to my knees. My dinner quickly makes its way back up, as I sob. I’m not sure if I’m sobbing from the photo I’ve just seen or because I’m throwing up and that always makes me cry.
Robyn? Seriously Hale? Seriously? You big fucking player. Robyn? Oh God, my heart hurts. I let you in, thinking we could be something. Share something. What a fucking mistake that was.
“Oh crap,” I realize I’ve left Monica on the phone. I don’t even want to touch my phone. I don’t want to see that picture again.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“No. I’m really not okay. Fuck. I really was falling for this guy, Monica, in a way I haven’t fallen for anyone in a long, long time. And he’s just a big fucking pig. It’s one thing after another with him. Then he comes back with the trust me stuff, so I do and then it’s another thing. It’s just too much.”
“Why would she send this to the three of us? That is what I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know.” A fresh round of tears begins.
“I know this is probably not the best time to bring this up, but can you see her vijayjay?”
“What?” I screech and look at the photo on my phone. “Hold on, I’m going to mail this to myself and look at it on my PC.”
Opening the photo, I gasp. “Someone needs to tell her that pink and red clash.” There it is, on display, right under the hem of her red slut dress, a very pink body part.
“Ewww,” Monica starts laughing, “she’s got a really nasty looking one. That is the ugliest vagina I’ve ever seen.”
Laughing through my tears, “It really is. It’s as nasty as she is.” Looking at the picture I notice she has the cherry from his Manhattan and that hurts more than anything.
I thought that was our thing.
“What a dick, Monica. I am really glad I didn’t sleep with him. He’s just a big playboy. Love the one you’re with must be his motto. I would love to pull myself off his project. Wait, didn’t I just say that like, umm, yeah, recently. He is just trouble.”
“I just don’t understand why she sent it to us and with that message. It’s just weird.”
“Hold on, Monica, Beverly’s calling.” I click over to the other call. “Yes. I saw it,” is how I answer.
“She is a disgusting tramp.”
“So is he.” I choke on my words.
“Why did she send this to us? I don’t understand why she sent this to us.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the modern version of an engagement announcement.” The sarcasm more than drips from my words, it gushes.
All I know is that for me it’s the end of something that was clearly never meant to be. If I needed a sign to say, stay focused on your dream, stay focused on that promotion, this was certainly it, delivered in flashing red and pink neon lights.
Hey, where’s my mermaid pic?
I’m jostled from my wine-induced sleep by the text tone on my phone. I fell asleep after a full blown meeting of The Swale Club and three glasses of a salmon-colored, iced cold rosé from the south of France.
Is he joking? What a douche.
Looking for your mermaid? I don’t know. Is she sleeping next to you?
Huh?
Who’s next to you tonight, Hale?
Same as every night, Sierra. No one.
Mmm-hmm. Yeah, right.
What are you talking about?
This
And I send the picture Robyn shared.
There’s no response from him.
And then my phone rings. Decline call is one of the options. I gladly choose it, stabbing the touchscreen.
He follows it with a text. C’mon Sierra, answer your phone. We need to talk.
Do you really think I want to talk to you? Seriously? Goodnight Hale. I turn my phone off and crawl back under the covers, wiping the tears away as I unsuccessfully attempt to fall back to sleep.
For one brief, shining moment I’d actually let myself dream a new dream. The man and the career. But that dream was merely a fantasy.
I drove past her house a few times over the weekend. No lights on. No car in the driveway. Wherever she was, she wasn’t home. I even checked late Sunday night, thinking she’d be back from wherever she’d gone and getting ready for the work week and her trip to Chicago. But she never returned.
The woman seriously does not want to see me.
Talk about feeling like a whacked out stalker. Between that and looking at pictures of that heavenly neck that is just begging to be between my hands, my mouth finally claiming what needs to be mine.
I hate this silence. I’d forgotten that pain grew in the emptiness, thriving on the hollow echoes that replaced the connection and laughter. The hurt is distracting and permeating. It’s taking over and I can’t let that happen. Especially not now.
We are only a little over a month out from TFV1 and it’s a bit late to replace Sierra and get someone new up to speed. With the sensitivity of the event, logistics and discretion needed, she and I need to get our shit together so that we can work side-by-side as professionals. I’ve just spent the last ten days hoping she wouldn’t bail on the project, but she hasn’t and that just reaffirms to me her professionalism, and if I’m really honest, corroborates her reason for not wanting to mix business and pleasure.
I can understand why she doesn’t want to talk to me. I really can. Just days after the intimacy we shared in her doorway, I’m photographed in that picture. That damning picture. I literally groaned out loud when I saw it. It was bad. Nightmare, bad press bad. Robyn’s legs were loosely crossed and you could see everything. Every fucking thing. And that bit with the cherry. Sierra probably thinks the cherry is a move I pull on all women.
And it’s not. It’s our thing. Hers and mine. No one else’s.
Why Robyn would send that to Sierra is beyond me. I don’t think I’ve given off any vibe about how into Sierra I am. I’ve been discreet. I keep my personal life compartmentalized; that’s a well-known fact. Now I’m questioning, do I get some love-sick look or a giddy tone to my voice when her name is mentioned? Do I have some kind of ‘tell’ that Robyn picked up on? I am falling hard for Sierra, that’s obvious, but I think I’ve done a good job of keeping that to myself. So good, in fact, that even Sierra doesn’t know how obsessively crazy I am about her. She is never far from my conscious thoughts. Ever. Even in business, I find myself wondering what she would think of things, how she would react, would she like it, dislike it, what would her strategy be?
My thoughts of Sierra Stone are permeating both my business and
personal world and that never happens. There’s girlfriends and there’s business and they are distinctly compartmentalized. I keep them very, very separate. The closest they will ever become is a woman accompanying me to an event or to a dinner. But with Sierra, she can talk to me about my business, strategize with me, she “gets” it. There are no boundaries as we easily skip back and forth, encompassing the different facets of my entire world. And those no boundaries keep getting me into trouble.
I want her back. She needs to know what happened at Mexican Radio. And she needs to know that I would never betray her. I need her back.
Strategically walking into the boardroom a few minutes late, I know that everyone will already be there, seated and waiting. I haven’t talked to her in nearly two weeks. Our correspondence have all been through email and very cut and dry, totally professional.
“Good to see everyone.” I make eye contact with everyone around the table as I sit down. “So, we are in the home stretch and there are a lot of logistics to work out. Let’s get to it.”
In front of me sits a handwritten list. No copy of my notes exists on a computer anywhere. When I’m done with this, it will be destroyed. It’s amazing how Special Services training remains some of the most useful skills I possess, no matter what turn my career has taken. It’s best that certain things don’t exist, just as I partook in certain missions that I was never on, for they never existed and our government would unequivocally and vehemently deny them. As would I.
“Anthony,” I address my Security Chief, “were you able to get hold of Garber?” I notice Sierra look up at the mention of Jeff’s name. Her eyes wide at the ramification.
Nodding, “Yeah, he hooked me up with their division chief and they’ll be able to provide an additional seven in personnel for the entire length of the event.”
Committing to memory what I can’t commit to paper, I make my way around the table and receive updates from the staff. With several of the participants, there will be additional one-on-one conversations on topics that can’t be discussed in a group forum.
When I reach Sierra, she reports succinctly on her outstanding agenda items, directly holding my eye contact and not backing down.
“Will we have representatives from the tech incubators presenting Saturday afternoon?”
“Yes, two have committed, one of those being UT.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Sierra.”
And I move onto the next person at the table, but my attention is fixated on Sierra’s neck. Her bare neck. She’s not wearing the mermaid and I know that was a conscious choice. Her message to me is, the chain has been broken, I am not yours, Hale.
Yeah, Sierra. I hear you loud and clear. Message received.
As the meeting ends, I catch her eye. “Stop by my office.” I stride out of the conference room not looking back.
I’m at my desk going through email when she knocks on my door. “Come in, close the door behind you.” When she does, I direct her to have a seat. We just look at one another. It is so good to see her, but I need to destroy this wall between us and I will do so if I have to rip it down brick by brick by brick with my bare hands.
“I’d like to talk to you about that night.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Hale.” Sierra is shaking her head.
“Will you give me the courtesy of listening to me?” my voice comes across a little sharper than intended.
“Sure.” She seems resigned.
“My PA in New York, Blair Cummings, you’ve spoken to her, right?” Sierra nods. “Blair and I had a conversation earlier that day about the corporate culture at SpaceCloud. Basically, she told me that I’m not a very accessible person.”
“Well, you made up for that.” Her attitude is purely defensive.
I ignore the barb and continue, “She told me that I’m aloof and disconnected from the staff. I wasn’t totally surprised to hear this because I’m a person who likes to keep things separate. It’s how I best cope.”
“Really, I see you as just the opposite. You certainly haven’t respected work and personal boundaries with me. And it doesn’t look like you did with Robyn, either.”
“That’s not true. With you it is, I’ll give you that. My situation with you is very out of character for me. Anyway, Blair said they were going out for drinks to some Mexican place and asked me to join them. I got there a little late and was having a drink and talking to two of the women from the accounting department, Annette and Carmela. They are both probably close in age to my mother and they’re from Staten Island and very funny. They were taking selfies with me to get their husbands jealous or something, when Robyn handed Annette her phone and asked her to take a picture. The whole thing happened so fast and I practically threw her off my lap and that’s it, Sierra. That is the whole story.”
“She took your cherry.”
“I know. It really pissed me off.” Amazing that the cherry was the first thing she responded to in that story. But I’m really not surprised. That cherry in Robyn’s hand was a smashing invasion of what Sierra and I had been sharing. One little Maraschino cherry represented so much more.
“Why did she send it to us, Hale?”
“Us?”
“Yes. She sent it to me, Monica and Beverly.”
“Seriously? That’s really weird. She was trying to send you guys a message.” I pause and think, “What did it say? Do you remember?”
Digging her phone out of her purse, Sierra scrolls and passes it across the desk to me.
Hands off, girls. He’s right where he belongs. #Mine
Reading it over a few times, I try and recreate that day in my mind. And then it hits me and I start to laugh. Son of a bitch. I did cause this. All this heartache. Hers. Mine. This horrible silence.
“What’s so funny?” She doesn’t look amused.
“It is my fault. Holy shit, I totally caused this. It really is my fault.”
Sierra looks confused at my confession.
“Earlier that day, Susan and Robyn stopped by my office. They were asking me all about the Universal event and I was telling them how fantastic it was.” I stop. “It was, Sierra, it was fantastic and because I’m ex-military, I can tell you just how meaningful and perfect it really was. Anyway,” I continue, “I mention that I met Monica and Beverly and how much I liked them and then said that I was considering moving all my business to your Los Angeles office.” Again I stop, this time to smile at Sierra, “I did it just to fuck with them because I know how competitive those two are with your team and I wanted to get a reaction.”
For the first time all day, Sierra’s face breaks into a smile and I feel it, I actually feel the movement of her cheeks in my heart.
“I even went so far as to tell Robyn not to spend her commission check yet,” I can’t help but chuckle. “I know that was pretty evil, but it was fun. Sierra, that is what this message and picture are about. She was insecure about what I said about pulling the business from her. Who knew she’d turn around and pull a stunt like this?”
“Hale, that picture.” I can see in Sierra’s eyes how haunted she is by that.
“Trust me, I didn’t appreciate her commando bottom on my leg. That picture personally hurt you, it hurt us and if that were ever to show up on the internet, well, it’s not a good representation of who I am.” Smiling at her, “And I had to burn a perfectly good pair of pants.”
Reaching across the desk, I put my hands out, palms up for her to take them. Looking at them for a moment, she gently lays her hands in mine. “Do you believe me?”
Nodding, “I do. The whole thing fits. It makes sense.”
Squeezing her hands, “What do I have to do to get you to trust me?”
“I don’t know. I want to, but look at you.”
“What does that mean?” I’m perplexed by her statement.
“You’re you. You’re kind of this international figure. Magazines write about you. You have some kind of clandestine military background where Presidents k
now who you are. They follow you and your business. You might just be a little too, what’s that saying, rich for my blood.”
I’m shocked. Clearly we’ve spent too much time apart and she’s had way too much time to think.
Giving her hands a last squeeze before I let them go, I come around to her side of the desk and sit down in the chair next to her. Taking her hands again, gently I rub my thumbs over her soft skin. Her eyes don’t look as open as I’ve seen them in the past. I need that door to reopen. Let me in, Sierra.
“You started out by saying ‘You’re you’ and out of everything you said, that was where you nailed it. Everything that followed that is just stuff, details to sort through. I want you to trust me, Sierra. How do I get you to trust me?”
As she looks at me I realize there is a story there, a story she is not yet ready to share. That will only come with time. I want to know everything now. That’s the only way to save her, but she has to choose to share with me of her own volition.
“I miss your nightly pictures, mermaid.”
“Hale…”
“Shhh.” Bringing her hands to my face, I kiss the center of each palm. “I know what we have to be for the next few weeks until the event is over. I respect that. Universal was an eye-opener for me, but I watched and learned. You handled yourself with so much finesse and grace. You’ve worked hard and with integrity and it makes me look at things differently. You’ve set the benchmark and you’ve set it high.”
“Thank you.” And with a small smile, “So, would you think less of me if I kissed you?”
Sitting forward in the chair, I laugh. “Expect the unexpected from you.”
As she leans in with a smile, I cup her small face with my right hand. “You’re safe with me, Sierra. Don’t run. Please don’t run.”
“I just don’t want to ruin everything.”
Kissing the edge of her mouth, “I need you to have faith that this will all work out. Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her look is priceless. My girl. I place a small kiss on her lips, “Want to hear something else?”
Slave to Love Page 10
