by Hazel Parker
I took a deep breath as I closed my eyes.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Shit, I’ve said worse, don’t feel bad about it,” Uncle said, his voice a little lower and quieter than usual. “Actually, I know I’ve said worse, seeing as how she just slapped the hell out of me.”
I snorted. The image of Amelia landing a solid blow on Uncle was a humorous one. Too bad, all things considered, it might be one of the last images I would ever have of her.
“Let me guess. You said something like you could get into her pants and please her better than I could.”
“I just said she could call me Daddy—”
“OK, I don’t need to know anything more,” I said, waving my hand to get him to shut up.
“Yeah, but I do,” Uncle said. “Was she a date?”
I shook my head.
“Not important, Uncle.”
But Uncle wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“C’mon, Fitz. We’re club brothers now. We don’t have any secrets between us. You know that.”
That’s a lie. We all have secrets here. We just don’t have secrets that affect club business.
“It’s not anything that I want to talk about right now, OK?”
“Fitz,” Uncle said. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But you not talking about it is telling me that there was something to it. And what did I tell you yesterday?”
“A whole lot of shit that doesn’t seem connected to the current conversation in the slightest.”
Uncle snorted, put his hands on the table, drummed them for a second, and then leaned back.
“You liked her, and that’s fine. But I told you that you didn’t want to be like me. You didn’t want to be someone incapable of having a healthy relationship. I don’t know a goddamn thing about this Amanda, Amelia, whatever the fuck her name is. But maybe when the tension has died down, you can try again, huh?”
I shook my head. It wasn’t that we’d gotten in a fight. It was that we’d come to realize we were on two different planets, and that I had hopped on the one that was orbiting far, far away from her.
“I wish it were that easy, Uncle,” I said. “But I don’t think that it’s going to be. These kinds of things just never work themselves out that way.”
Uncle knocked on the table twice and stood.
“I can give you advice about investing and market deals, even if you ignore it,” he said with a quick smile. “But I’m probably not the person to speak to about this. Maybe you can ask Marcel for advice. Otherwise...I’m sorry, brother.”
It was perhaps the one good thing of the night—hearing Uncle call me brother. Uncle nodded and walked out, leaving me by myself in the office.
I had a feeling that being alone was something I was going to have to get used to.
* * *
When I showed up to work on Monday, I tried to get there early at six-thirty in the hopes that I would encounter Amelia. I wanted to talk to her and apologize again for asking her to the party. I didn’t have any grand ambitions of winning her back—well, that wasn’t quite true, but it was true that I didn’t have any false notions of getting her back in the short term.
I just wanted to believe that we could still communicate and talk with each other, something that we had not done since she had left me Friday night.
I sat in my typical chair, “reading” the Wall Street Journal while actively scanning the room, looking for her arrival. I about gave up around seven o’clock when the doors opened.
She stepped out.
She looked at me. I looked at her.
Time seemed frozen at that moment as the two of us locked eyes, some thirty feet apart from each other, but intertwined and connected in ways that no amount of distance could space. Amelia looked pained; she looked like she wanted to reach out to me. I would have killed to know what was on her mind.
Was she still sad about everything? Was she judgmental of my decision? Did she find me insane for what I had done? Was she secretly envious?
Unfortunately, while a facial expression told a thousand words, it couldn’t tell more. Her words could have said much more, but she seemed to have no interest in doing so.
“Amelia,” I said, but it barely came out as a whisper. I couldn’t force anything else to emerge from my lips, and even if I could, I didn’t want to embarrass her or call her out in front of everyone here.
She bit her lip, bowed her head, and turned back around, taking the elevator back up.
I didn’t know if I would ever see her again after that. I knew there was no more point in waiting for her in the cafeteria or the lobby.
* * *
Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.
The workweek came and went. I left every day at five-thirty. There was no reason for me to stay any longer. In theory, I had work to do that I needed to wrap up and pass off, but Gerald had already begun the process of handing off my work to my subordinates. Gerald, for his part, never looked at me or even spoke to me until Friday afternoon, when he called me in for my exit interview.
Neither of us wanted to be in that room. He asked dry, cliché questions, and I gave vague, undefined answers. Both of us knew we were playing a bullshit game, and both of us were more interested in ending the game than continuing to play it.
“Thank you for your time.”
Those were the last words that I heard from Gerald. Like everything else, they had no sincerity or passion behind them. I didn’t doubt that within the next couple of years, I would hear that Gerald had passed away from a heart attack. He was not someone who kept himself in the slightest bit of shape, and there was no reason to believe that that would change in the near future.
I didn’t say a word to any of my colleagues as I left. Though I was friendly with all of them, as soon as word spread that I was leaving, they all shunned me. I would have gotten more contact if I had shown up to the office with leprosy. The world which I had inhabited for over a decade was starting to reveal itself as the fake, bullshit enterprise that I think everyone suspected on some level.
At least it made me feel better about quitting to join the Savage Saints. I had felt a little bit of doubt when I showed up on Monday, but by the time I departed and headed home, I didn’t have an ounce of regret in me. I needed five to get here so that I could get the hell out and never come back.
At four-fifty, realizing that I had no reason to stay other than the weird feeling that I needed to stay until five, I stood up and just left. No one said goodbye, no one wished me well. In fact, no one even so much as bothered to look at me. I left my badge on my desk, closed out my email, shredded any remaining documents, and made sure that my briefcase was empty. I knew from seeing others get fired that they would check to make sure no documents were taken.
I called the elevator down and stepped on when the doors opened. Three people were on, two men and one woman I couldn’t see. The elevator stopped two more floors down, and the men got off.
“I guess this is it for you, huh?”
I turned, surprised to hear Amelia was talking to me. She didn’t look especially happy, but she didn’t look disappointed in me either. She just looked...well, neutral. Like how I tried to carry myself at work every day.
“Yeah,” I said. “I left my keycard at the desk. It’s official. As soon as those doors open to the lobby and I walk out, I’m done.”
Amelia chuckled and shook her head.
“You’re crazy,” she said. “But the world needs crazy people. It needs people like you who aren’t afraid to do what’s right for themselves.”
“I suppose,” I said. “But the world also needs people like you who will do the most stressful of work to keep things going.”
A small smile formed on her face.
“I’m sorry that I asked you to the party on Friday,” I said, feeling a sudden surge of certainty that this was the one chance I’d get to say it in a less stressful situation than the actual party. “That was stupid of me.”<
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“No, it was sweet, I promise,” Amelia said. “I should have been the one to say that I wasn’t in the mood for a party or that we should go slower. I pushed myself, and the only person to blame is me.”
“Well, you don’t have to say that.”
I bit my lip. She’d given me a bit of an opening. Did I dare to take it? Be bold. She’s being like you. Be like her.
“If that’s the case,” I said. “Do you want to give this another shot?”
The sadness that crossed Amelia’s face gave me an all-too-painful answer.
“It doesn’t change the fact that we live in two separate worlds,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry, Fitz. But I can’t. I wish you all the best and think you’ve made the right choice for you. But I have to do what’s best for me as well.”
She won’t date someone like me now.
Then I guess she’s not someone you should want.
Too bad “should” and “actually” were two very different things here.
“Understood,” I said with a nod.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out. Amelia remained where she was.
“You’re not coming?”
“I...just remembered I had some other things to do.”
That was a lie. But it was a lie that had given us a chance to talk some more. I smiled nicely.
“Good luck, Amelia.”
“Good luck, Fitz,” she said just as the doors closed on her and whatever we could have had.
I turned around, my eyes downcast. I gave my briefcase to security for them to investigate, which they returned moments later. I walked out a free man, but not exactly a happy man.
I went to my apartment briefly to lie down, but my mind was racing too much. I was reflecting on my career at Rothenberg, but mostly, I was reflecting on what had happened with Amelia. She still liked me. She wouldn’t have come down the elevator otherwise.
But she wouldn’t…
Why we had to divide ourselves up in these silly games was beyond me. Why we couldn’t just acknowledge that we liked each other and that it was good for us to be together was beyond me. But I guess that was just the way things went. I could love it or hate it, but I had to accept it.
The next club party was only a couple hours away. Though we didn’t have to be there until seven o’clock, I knew staying on this couch would only make it less likely that I would leave. Slowly pulling myself together, I got dressed for the party, leaving my suit and tie on the ground. I walked out the door, locked it, and started to hail an Uber.
Then, remembering that I was no longer making twenty grand per paycheck, I stopped and headed for the subway.
It wasn’t that the subway was bad. But I sure hated the fact that it gave me more time to think and wonder what could have been with Amelia. I really need a goddamn drink.
I didn’t run when I got off the subway. I didn’t have the energy to. I would get all the energy I needed when I had a few drinks in my hand.
I turned the corner to Brooklyn Repairs and saw an unfamiliar, youthful-looking man standing outside.
“Hey, shop’s closed,” I said as I walked up.
“No shit,” he said, wearing a cocky smirk.
“Then what are you doing here?”
The man, still wearing that smirk, came up to me.
“Are you with the Brooklyn chapter of the Saints?”
I nodded. He pulled out a gun from his hips and pressed it into my stomach.
“Woah!”
“Come with me.”
He led me inside to the office. There, I found the rest of the officers sitting at a table.
Surrounding us were three heavily armored men, the man who had taken me inside, and Richard.
“I told you you had two weeks to make something happen,” Richard said. “And now that you have chosen to take no action, it’s time to pay up on our terms.”
Chapter 16: Amelia
I guess I wasn’t ready to let it end like it had.
For all that we had done together individually—all the flirting, the playful banter, the innuendos, and then the actual sex, the bike rides, the nights we spent together—it felt a little abrupt to have it thrown away on a visceral reaction to what had happened at the repairs shop.
I didn’t think that I would ever come around to adapting to the lifestyle Fitz had now chosen to lead. It was much too foreign to me, and though I valued that Fitz had a streak of independence that seemed to be severely lacking elsewhere at Rothenberg Banking, I didn’t value that he had directed it at that.
That didn’t make him damaged goods, though. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still the smart man.
That was why I deliberately took the elevator down. I had meant to go to the cafeteria and hope that he would make a final stop there, but it worked out pretty well that we’d run into each other in the elevator. He had never even pushed the button for the cafeteria; once he’d checked out, he had not lingered in the slightest.
But when I saw the elevator doors close, it felt like that was the end of us.
And now I had to go back to where I was—going on Tinder, having little time and patience for weirdos, and wondering why it was so hard to date in this city. I didn’t want to be the girl that “settled” because all the other alternatives were worse, and I didn’t see Fitz as settling, but it wasn’t hard to see how that could be perceived as settling.
Still, fuck going back to regular dating. Did I expect perfection in a man? How the fuck could I expect a perfect man when I had the most imperfect life of all? Shit, if I expected a perfect man, I just needed to start playing video games. At least in that world, I could create my own characters, decide their actions, and not have them judge me.
I went back up to my desk and saw Ben with his feet propped up on his desk, a drink of some sort in his hands. He looked remarkably calm and in a good mood for his usual disposition, and I couldn’t help myself.
“You look mighty relaxed, Ben,” I said.
“Oh, quite,” Ben said with what sounded like a sarcastic laugh.
“Ben?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing,” he said.
I took the cue, nodded, and started to walk away.
“Just, you know, I finally got rid of my wife.”
What?
“The divorce finalized today,” Ben said. “And best of all, because I signed a prenup before we got married, I don’t owe her half! She’s going to have to figure it out on her own!”
“That doesn’t sound like an amicable divorce.”
“Hell no, are you shitting me? She always wanted me to be home early. She wanted me to lead a normal life, no matter how many times I told her that being with me meant that she got to lead an extraordinary life.”
Ben rolled his eyes, taking a swig of what looked like scotch.
“But now she’s gone, and I can lead an extraordinary life again!”
“Which is?”
“Partying with everyone else here, of course.”
“Hmm,” I said, putting my hand on my hip.
I’d seen what said parties looked like. They were an abomination in how men treated women. Strippers, people doing drugs off of girls’ breasts, rooms that were not shut all the way during sex. It was…
Very similar to Friday….
“We’re throwing a party tonight to celebrate, actually,” Ben said. “Going to go see some titties and watch some asses shake. Maybe I’ll pay off a stripper, who knows? We can find a man for you if you’d like, Amelia. Make it equality and all!”
He laughed. I shook my head, doing my best not to storm out in frustration at what I saw as crude, salacious behavior.
“What’s going on with you?” he said. “You look like someone just killed your mate. You alright?”
“Fine,” I said. “Just been a long week at work. Still don’t think I’ve recovered from my flights to and from Shanghai.”
“But you came into work anyway and you kicked ass,” Ben said. “T
hat is how you get promotions, Miss Hughes! That is how you win the day here!”
And what, exactly, am I winning by doing all of this? A lost relationship? Stress?
“Well, thank you, Ben,” I said. A brief awkward silence ensued. “By the way, did you hear? Thomas Fitzgerald quit.”
“Who?”
I think he’s being rhetorical now that he quit.
“He was in Gerald’s department, he—”
“I’m sorry, is he currently an employee at Rothenberg Banking?”
I bit my lip.
“If he’s not one of us, then I don’t give two shits about him,” Ben said. “If he wants to go off and ride his motorcycle, get fat, grow a gray beard, and call himself Buffy or something, then we’ll sit here, buy some more champagne, and laugh at his misery.”
I don’t think there’s anything miserable about him. In fact, I daresay that he’s pretty happy these days. He seems quite content and at peace with the decision.
Meanwhile, my boss is over here celebrating a divorce that was probably his fault.
Which side is the sane side again?
“I guess so,” I said. “Well, enjoy your divorce celebration party. I’ll see if I can make it out.”
“It’s about empowering women too, you know!” he shouted with a laugh. “If you want independence, my wife can tell you how!”
He laughed some more before shutting the door to his office. It was a damn good thing he did because I probably would have shut it for him if he had kept laughing as he had. I also suspected that his laughing was probably a front of some kind. I didn’t know a ton of people who were so willing to just laugh off years of marriage like Ben had. I’d met his wife; she wasn’t someone he’d met at a nightclub and married on a whim. She had been with him for some time.
It wasn’t my concern, but it did put my mind in a funky place.
Here I was, dumping a sane man because he’d be spending his days at, what I perceived, a shitty job, working with shitty people...while I spent my days at a shitty job, working with shitty people. The job and people were shitty only in color, not in substance. The men at both jobs chased after women shamelessly; one job paid very well but sucked out the soul, while the other apparently nourished Fitz’s soul but sucked out his bank account.
