by Emily Bishop
I already know that, so I guess there’s no need for me to talk to him, now is there?
I set the letter on my little kitchen counter and head toward the bathroom to take a shower.
Whatever that note is, I’m sure it’s nothing I want to know about.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Booker
She must be in there. I could hear her phone ringing through the door. I stop halfway down the barren hallway and pull my phone back out.
I dial her number and let it ring. I can hear it even from down the hall, but once again, I am left with no response.
There’s a horrible ache in my chest. It’s a feeling I haven’t ever known, so I can’t really put words to it, but I think I may know what it is.
I miss her.
This morning, the world was our oyster. Anything was possible, and it was scary. Now that I’m faced with the reality that there is also the possibility that nothing can happen between us, I feel even worse. This isn’t an office fling. What I share with Sasha is so much more, and I’ve ruined it before it even had a chance to really begin.
I hate myself.
I wonder if curiosity will win out on her end. Will she open the door and peek out, to see if I’ve gone? I glance back at her scuffed brown door and wait. This building, this place, is… well.
Sasha deserves better than this. She’s a hard worker and smart as a tack. She’s going to branch out of here and skyrocket to success. I could help her, if she’d let me.
My gaze lingers on the closed door, and I know she’s not going to open it. I may have really lost her for good. The only person in the entire world I’ve let in, and I’ve gone and completely blown it.
My shoulders sag as I realize the truth of the situation. Still, I didn’t get to where I am because I’m a quitter. Booker Knight always finds a way to shoot right back to the top. I’m going to find a way to make this right.
I will find a way to get her back. If only she reads my note. Maybe she’ll understand.
My footsteps are heavy as I trudge back down the hallway. The floorboards creak beneath my feet. When the elevator opens, I question whether or not I want to put my life on the line by stepping inside.
How can she live like this?
Then again, was it really that long ago that a place like this would have been my own personal heaven? Anywhere with a roof and a warm room to sleep in for the night? Still, I was an orphan. Sasha has a family that loves her. She has a career.
Well, had a career. Apparently I’m so awful it’s worth giving that up.
Did I mention I hate myself?
I step into the elevator. A faint odor of some kind of soup permeates the air, and I hold my breath as I press the button for the ground floor. There’s an annoyingly optimistic part of me that still hopes maybe she’ll read my note, see my missed calls, change her mind. Perhaps she’ll run down the stairs and be there when the doors open.
The elevator doors finally part, but the lobby is bereft of anyone, much less Sasha. I step outside and make my way to the street. Somehow, it’s already darkening outside, and the air around me is frosty. The scent of snow tickles my nostrils.
Just another cold night on my own.
I shove my hands into my pockets and ignore the curious stares of the people around me. I’m clearly not from this part of town. The label on my suit proves that well enough. Do any of these people know Sasha? Could they help me get a message to her?
No. I need to clear my head. I need to think of a better way. If I keep barging in when she clearly wants to be left alone, I really will lose her.
It’s time to play a little tactical here. I hold out my hand for a cab, and one pulls over immediately. I know there are apps for travel now, but I’ve never needed to use one. I suppose I could have called for my car, but that would take too long.
I need to get home now. I need a drink and a good long think.
It’s the only solution to this problem that I can find. I slide into the torn back seat of the yellow car and give the driver directions to the other side of town. He perks up a bit at the address. He must know a good tip is in it for him if he gets me there in a timely manner.
The car speeds off, and I turn and glance back. God, I’m pathetic. What do I expect? For Sasha to run out of the building, note in hand, tears in her eyes, ready to forgive me for being a complete and total ass?
That’s not how real life works.
We turn a corner, and her apartment disappears. I pull out my cell phone and open my emails. Sasha’s is the last one I opened. There are twenty more awaiting my attention. I can’t be bothered with them. I only check to make sure Kieran hasn’t written anything, perhaps another threat.
How can I blame him for that, when I’d threatened him twice that morning? As much as Kieran has pissed me off to the ends of the Earth, I can’t really be mad at him. Kieran doesn’t think about emotions when it comes to marketing. That’s why we work so well together, because until recently, neither did I.
Had this situation been any different, had Sasha just been another woman I was sleeping with, I would have absolutely agreed with him. Our story could certainly sell apps, and it’s not as though we’re an unattractive couple, either. Together, we could have been the poster children for Cupid’s Bow.
I chuckle at my own stupidity. Even now, I’m justifying the marketing ploy that sent Sasha into a frenzy. This has been my life for so long that I can’t get the businessman out of my head long enough to remember that human lives are involved.
One human life in particular, which means more to me than I’ve been willing to admit since the beginning. I run a hand over my eyes, and images of Sasha dance across the backs of my eyelids. I see her head tilted back, her face lit with passion as I drive into her. Then the scene shifts, and I see the hurt in her eyes as she storms out of Kieran’s office.
The last time I may ever see her.
The cab pulls up to my apartment building, and I tip the driver like he was expecting.
He grins back at me and gives me a salute. “Have a great evening, sir. If you ever need a cab, here’s my card.”
I pull a grimy card from his calloused fingertips and nod. “Thanks. Have a good one.”
I step out of the cab and make for my elevator. I don’t know what I expect to feel when I get into my apartment. As the elevator soars into the sky, my ears pop. I swallow as the door opens to my empty, impersonal home.
I never really noticed how vacant it was until Sasha said something. As I glance around, I realize she’s absolutely right. My life has no meaning, and it’s blatantly obvious in the way I’ve set up my home, the one place that should feel cozy and safe.
I can’t fault my reasons, though. I can’t change the fact that growing attached to people, to things, has been the biggest source of heartbreak I’ve ever experienced in my life. What was worse was having that experience as a child.
I didn’t deserve to be treated that way.
I walk over to my bar and pour a glass of whiskey, neat. I gulp it down with a flick of my wrist and close my eyes as the burn slides all the way down. I sit on my couch and stare out at the cold, glittery city below. I wonder what Sasha is doing right now.
I hope she’s all right.
I stare out into the night until my head nods to the side. When I blink again, the sky is a cascade of pastel colors. The sun rises, and with it comes a new day. I twist my neck, and a sharp pain shoots through it from sleeping upright for so long. I turn it from side to side until the pain ebbs, but I don’t have time to deal with that.
I change into a clean suit and head right back out the door, ready to take on a new day at the office. I need to set things right with Kieran.
I hope he finds some way not to piss me off again.
I pull out my cell phone and call him. After three rings, he picks up.
“Booker,” he says, his tone cold.
“Kieran. Are you going to work today? We need to talk.”
&
nbsp; “I’m already here. We do have a launch coming up, if you might remember. I’m not all fun and games. I do actually work for this company.”
“Yes, I know. I’m on my way in. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Fine.”
He hangs up the phone. I can tell it’s not going to be an easy conversation, but it’s a necessary one. I call for Daniel, and my town car pulls around the corner five minutes later. I slide inside, happy to be back in my own element.
There’s a reason I’ve worked this hard. I like living the good life.
Daniel says nothing as he chauffeurs me to the office. When he parks, I slide out and stalk toward the elevators, ready to face Kieran and the office head on. Yesterday was a complete nightmare. Now I’ve got to do damage control in more ways than one.
When I reach our floor, I’m grateful to see that Kieran and I have beaten everyone here. The cubes are dark and quiet, the floor silent as a tomb. I walk past them until I see light pouring from Kieran’s office, and I step in the doorway. When he looks up at me, his blue eyes are ice.
“Booker. Come to punch me in the face again? If you have, I’ll go ahead and go.”
“I’m sorry, Kieran. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No. You shouldn’t have. While we’re on the topic, what else should you not have done?”
I sit down, ready for this verbal beat own. “I shouldn’t have put emotions ahead of the company. Clearly, I’ve been compromised in all of this. I don’t have a clear head. I think it’s about time I take myself out of the picture on this one, maybe get out of the country for a while. I can come back for another project.”
Kieran blinks at me from behind his desk. “No,” he says.
I blink back at him. “What? Did you just tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“You’re fucking right I did. This company needs you, Booker. You think I can pull off this launch by myself? Are you out of your mind?”
“You have a solid team around you. Besides, we started this empire together. You can hold the reins on this one.”
“No, I can’t. It’s too big for either of us to do alone. That’s why I’ve been in here working my ass off on marketing. Your job is to take care of the rest. We need everyone on deck, Booker, even you.”
“You’re exaggerating,” I say.
“No, I’m not. We started this business together. Yeah, we get in fights, whatever, but at the end of the day, you don’t run off like some scared little coward. You are not leaving me to deal with this alone while you hide and cry about your emotions or whatever.” Kieran leans in and narrows his eyes. “You owe me this, brother. So, yeah, I’m telling you that you can’t leave. If you do, I’ll press charges for battery and assault.”
I chuckle, even as rage flows through me. Kieran has managed to be so right and so wrong all at once, and I really want to punch something. His face already looks a little worse for the wear.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Good. I’ll send you some final drafts.”
“Yep.”
If I say anything else, our relationship might really be over. Instead, I charge back to my office and slam the door behind me. I’m trapped in a world of my own making.
There’s nothing I can do but press on and hope Sasha comes around.
I am in hell.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sasha
“Wow, don’t you look fancy?”
I glance up from the front of the restaurant. It’s two in the afternoon, so the place is dead. A middle-aged man in a red collared shirt and black pants walks over to me. His black moustache has some kind of foam on it, maybe from a soda? Please, be from a soda and not a beer.
I glance around me and realize I’m the only other person in the room. The hostess I introduced myself to looked me up and down with a critical glance before she disappeared into the back, and I decided to sit and wait without any kind of instructions.
“Um, thanks,” I say. I’ve been applying for jobs for weeks, with no success. This is my first interview since I sat down with Booker Knight. I wanted to look my best, so I’m wearing a crisp black suit with a sage green blouse underneath.
Apparently, I overdressed?
“Hm. Well, let’s get this over with.”
“All… right,” I say. Not a good start, but if I don’t get this job, it’s game over. My rent is due, and my bank account is scraping the bottom line – I hadn’t worked for Booker long enough to pad it out. It’s now or never.
The manager tilts his head and guides me to a large booth in the bar. He slides in on one side, and I sit across from him. I pull out my resume and set it on the table.
“You know we have a form you fill out, right?”
“I do. I have that here as well, but I wanted to supplement it.”
“Ah. OK, well, I’ll just take a look at our form then.”
He slides the document across the table and reads in silence for several moments. I glance around at the bar, which is standard. I wish I had a better grasp on how to make drinks. Maybe I could really sell myself with that.
“I see you did some waitressing in Pennsylvania,” he says and looks up at me. His eyes are a strange mud brown. I’ve never seen anything quite like them.
I nod and focus on his words. “I did, for several years. I can waitress effectively, and I have a great customer service attitude.”
“You ever serve twenty tables at once?”
“I… well… not that many, no.”
“This is downtown New York, girl. Waiting tables in some dinky town is not going to prepare you for what you’ll face here. This place is ruthless during the evening rush. You ever announce for bar trivia before?”
“No.” My heart sinks. I can see where this is going. Maybe I should have from the start.
“Mmhmm. You look sharp, but you need to cut your teeth somewhere else in this city first before we could take you on. I don’t need a greenhorn coming in and pissing off customers. Competition is fierce enough as it is.”
“But if you give me a chance…” I start, but he holds up his hands to stop my speech.
“Save it. I already said we don’t have time to train you. I appreciate you taking the time to come in and interview, but we’ve got to get things ready for tonight. You’ll understand if I have you see yourself out.”
“I understand.” I can’t keep the disappointment from my voice, but the man clearly doesn’t care.
“It’s been a pleasure, uh…”
I don’t bother reminding him of my name. Instead, I step out of the booth and slide my papers back into my work bag.
“Yeah. A real pleasure,” I say.
I walk out of the bar and down through the main restaurant. Customers are starting to trickle in, and I glance down at the floor as I make my shameful exit. A flash of green catches my eye, and I glance back over into a corner.
A twenty-dollar bill is crumpled up against the wall. I don’t hesitate. I’m broke as hell, and I don’t see anyone else claiming it. I bend over and scoop it up. I pocket it as I step back out into the cold, unforgiving world that is New York City.
I want to cry. I want to so badly, but I won’t. Not now. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a small pity party with my lucky find. I trudge down the sidewalk and pass by two souvenir stands loaded with Valentine’s Day kitsch.
“A pretty flower for the pretty lady? You should send your boyfriend over, so he can get one for you!”
“No thanks,” I grumble as I pass by. I see a hole-in-the-wall bar to my left, and I duck in. I can’t stand the Valentine’s Day garbage everywhere, reminding me of the love I’ve lost and the job I lost all at once. I’ve never been a big fan of this holiday, but I’m starting to detest it.
I slide onto a bar stool and rest my chin on my fist as I glare down at the grimy bar.
“Wow, what’ll you have?”
I glance up at a pretty brunette. She’s dressed in a black T-shirt and
jeans, and her expression is loaded with pity.
Ugh.
“I don’t know. What’s the special?”
“The bleeding heart. It’s our Valentine’s special. Tastes like cinnamon. Can really fuck you up if you have more than one.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“One bleeding heart it is then,” she says and disappears.
I glance down at my bag and see Booker’s note sticking out of the side. I still haven’t found the will to open it yet, but I also haven’t been able to bring myself to destroy it, either. Next to the note, the screen on my phone lights up as a call comes in. I bend down and scoop it up, surprised to see Lucy’s name there.
“Hello?” I haven’t heard from Lucy in ages - weeks. She checked in once or twice at the beginning, but when I didn’t have much to say, she stopped texting.
I wonder if something’s wrong.
“Sasha! How are you?” Lucy’s voice feels like home. It coats me in a warmth I haven’t allowed myself to feel since I fell into dire straits.
Sometimes, I think that it might be my own fault though. In the dark of night, when I’m having panic attacks and my heart is pounding, I wonder if I overreacted.
If there might be a place for me, were I to come crawling back.
That’s unthinkable, though, isn’t it? I can’t face him again.
“I’m OK. I just had a job interview.”
“Wow, that’s great! How did it go?” she asks.
I release a sigh as the bartender slides my drink over to me. I nod to her and take a sip. The hot cinnamon feels good on my throat and my soul, and I drink a little more deeply the second time.
“Not great. I didn’t get the job.”
“Off the bat? That’s harsh!”
“It was for a waitress position. They don’t always take the professional route.”
“Waitressing? I thought you wanted to stay in the app technology world. Isn’t that where you want to be?”
“It is, but I don’t exactly have the experience to break back in.”
“Sasha, you could always…”
“No,” I say. It’s rude to cut someone off, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to hear the words. I don’t want to be tempted. There is nothing back there for me but more heartbreak and suffering. It’s the one place that I absolutely cannot go.
