by Sloan, C. T.
Okay, well this is mysterious and exciting. It’s also a little scary. What the hell does Mr. Peak have planned for me now?
We get to the airport where our luggage is promptly stowed aboard the Gulfstream. As we enter the aircraft, Mr. Peak does something really strange, he allows me to get on the plane first. Wow. The big alpha bully is suddenly turning into a gentleman! Perhaps I have executed my duties so well, he is beginning to soften up on me.
The jet takes off. Mr. Peak checks his messages and makes a few phone calls to the LA office. “I’m going to be in town in a few hours,” Mr. Peak says. He listens on the other side of the phone for a while. Then he says, “I won’t be in the office. If anything is pressing, have the managing director take care of it. I don’t want to know what is going on unless the office is on fire.”
Alright, so we are going back to LA but Mr. Peak is not going back into the office. As we reach cruising altitude, I get out of my chair and crawl into Mr. Peak’s arms. He runs his fingers through my hair and looks out of the window. He seems to be in deep thought about something.
Mr. Peak’s big, hard body is so soothing that I fall asleep in his arms. His biceps make nice pillows!
***
“Wake up. We’re in LA,” Mr. Peak says as the wheels hit the ground at the Santa Monica Municipal airport. I am completely refreshed. I am so energized. Mr. Peak is alert though it does not seem like he spent any of his time sleeping. The man looks like he spent the entire flight deep in contemplation.
When we emerge from the Gulfstream, Mr. Peak orders our belongings be sent, “to the house.” Then my boss asks for the keys to his “old car.” A man runs off into a hangar and emerges with a twenty-five year old Mustang convertible. While the car is old, it looks like it has been maintained in top condition.
Mr. Peak opens the door for me and tells me to, “Get in.”
I smile, somewhat amused by this twist and turn. “So what is this, Mr. Peak, your high school car?” I joke.
“Yeah. It is,” my boss repsonds.
We speed out of the airport and head towards the water. The cool Santa Monica air rushes across my face as we travel towards the Santa Monica Pier. Mr. Peak parks the car about two blocks away.
We get out of the car. Mr. Peak leads me to the Pier. Oh well, this looks like fun. Perhaps after two weeks of intense wheeling and dealing and deception, my boss just wants to take a day off. He wants to show off the fun side of his personality. I always knew Mr. Peak’s soft side was hiding somewhere.
“I haven’t been to the Pier in ages!” I say to my boss as we walk down towards the boardwalk. Mr. Peak looks down at me and does something that is rare, he cracks a slight smile. We get down to the pier. Mr. Peak’s hurried walking gives way to a comfortable stroll. We take our time as we look at the children playing, the musicians hustling for tips and the various vendors selling their trinkets to tourists.
Mr. Peak grabs my hand and we begin to walk as a couple. “Do you like the pier, Sir?” I ask my boss.
He exhales deeply. “I love it and I hate it. I love it because the pier represented the end of my journey when I left my parents’ home 25 years ago. I hate the pier because this is where I used to hang out when I had no money. The pier represents so many emotions in me,” my boss explains.
We reach the end of the pier where people are fishing, taking photos and enjoying the perfect Southern California afternoon. “Come on. Let’s take a walk up the bleachers.” Mr. Peak says, referring to the seating which runs up the end of the pier. We walk and walk until we hit the top set of bleachers. Mr. Peak sits down and looks at the water. The wind whips hard around my body. I place my head on Mr. Peak’s shoulders for comfort.
“When I was 16, I would spend six to eight hours a day thinking about what I wanted from my life,” Mr. Peak explains. “To be honest, all I really thought about were material things. I wanted a mansion in Malibu, I wanted a Ferrari, I wanted the best clothes and access to the finest clubs. I knew that in order to have those things, I had to show no weakness, I had to allow no mercy. That meant that I could not allow anyone to get close to me. I could not allow anyone to make me vulnerable. So, in all of that time, I never really thought about a companion,” my boss says. Oh my God. Where is this conversation going?!
I look at my boss. He stares at me. “All this time, I have seen you as an employee, an ally and as a lover. This morning I have also realized that you are something more. You are my friend, my equal. Two things I have never sought nor accepted from anyone before now,” my boss says as I begin to hyperventilate.
Mr. Peak stands up. He lifts me to my feet. My boss drops to one knee and takes my hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring. I begin to cry. He places the ring on my finger.
“Sarah. I am nothing without you. This pier is where my dreams began so many years ago. Begin a new dream with me now. Sarah. Will you marry me?”
I cry. I can’t get the words out of my mouth. “Yes. Yes, Sir!”
My boss lifts me up and hugs me. He gives me a kiss and whispers into my ear, “Call me Ryan.”
