by Ana Starling
That was the last time Derek saw Diana, because that night, instead of figuring out a way to get Diana out of the mess she was in, we fucked.
Hard.
Then, the next morning, Derek got a call. He was still on my bed when he did. A few seconds later, I got the same call.
She wanted to meet.
We went there in separate cars since we were still resolving our feelings.
Maybe we don’t hate each other now. Maybe we should move on.
Maybe we should fuck more often.
It was still weird for me, but maybe not as much as before.
We showed up at different times at the restaurant. Derek arrived before me. But Diana wasn’t around.
After an hour of waiting, we had called her. She didn’t pick. We waited for another hour, and that was when I started to panic.
We drove to her house; she was gone. One month later, she’s still gone.
“So, where the fuck did she go to?” I ask.
Derek shrugs. “I wish I knew, man.”
We’re getting back inside the car when my phone buzzes inside my pocket. I pick it up.
“Yep?” I say.
“Is Derek with you?” the voice, which sounded masculine, asks.
I glance at Derek who’s looking at me. “Yes, Derek’s here.”
Hearing his name, he becomes more attentive.
“Then, he needs to hear this as well,” the man says.
I put the phone on speaker and place it near the gear shifter. “I have you on speaker phone.”
“I think I found your missing girl,” he announces.
Immediately, my heart picks up the pace. Derek and I exchange a tense look.
“Where did you find her?” Derek asks. “Is she okay?”
“It appears so.”
“What do you mean?” I say. I don’t like the skeptical tone in his voice.
“It’s better you see for yourself,” comes the reply.
“See what? Can’t you speak plainly?” Derek says, angry. He then glances at me. “Do you tolerate this level of mystery among your employees?”
I shrug. Frankly, anyone that makes Derek angry is my friend.
“Word is,” the man begins, “Maurice is about to launch a knockoff lingerie company—”
“What?!” I explode.
“—and he’s going to use Diana as its face—”
“What?!” Derek explodes.
“Return to the office, boss,” he says. “Come check it out. It’s happening.”
“On the way,” I say, cutting the call.
I put the car in reverse and zoom into the road like a fucking mad man. I do a one-eighty—or a ninety? Ah, who gives a fuck—and then gun the car down the road toward the office.
“I can’t believe she would betray us like this,” I say.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Derek replies.
“It’s not jumping to conclusions,” I argue. “It’s being smart enough to know when a girl has played two pussy-whipped alpha males for a fool.”
Derek doesn’t reply. He keeps his face straight and serious; he only does that when he suspects I’m right. And sadly, now’s one of the times I hope to God I’m not.
We arrive in my office. There’s already a folder waiting for me on my desk. My informant has arranged a very exhaustive dossier on the company Maurice is creating.
Derek stands behind me, and we go through the documents together.
“That’ll destroy her!” Derek exclaims.
Yes, it will, I realize.
I see that Maurice is trying to push Diana’s image in a very lowly way. If she goes ahead with this—which she has to, considering the contract she signed with Maurice years ago—it’ll ruin her fucking career…for good.
“Doesn’t he care?” Derek asks me.
“You know Maurice,” I reply. “He only cares about the fucking money. He doesn’t care who he has to hurt or destroy to get more of it. In a way, he’s like us.”
“Only, we care,” Derek corrects me. “We care about the people we work with.”
“Well, some of the times,” I say. “But at least that’s better than not caring at all.”
I look away from Derek and peruse the contract one more time.
No matter which way I look at it, Diana has been backed into a corner by Maurice. There’s nothing we can do to stop him from forcing every single penny out of Diana’s body and then dumping her on the curb.
“There’s no way I can help her,” I say. “There’s no way you can help her.”
“But maybe there’s a way we can help her,” Derek says. “Together.”
I nod, glad that Derek sees what I see. But can we pull it off? Can we work together?
“I’m willing to do it, Kane,” Derek says. “You might be an arrogant son of a bitch sometimes, but we make a great team. I’m in if you’re in.”
“I thought I hated you,” I reply. “But maybe not. Maybe it was something else. And maybe, I was too scared to understand or admit it. But for Diana, I’m willing to do anything.”
“This is the only way.” Derek nods.
“Then let’s do it,” I say. “Let’s join forces and save our girl.”
30
Derek
The hall is small but prestigious.
It’s teeming with a lot of great media personalities in the city. The stage is set, with lights and cameras for a photo shoot. The media guys also brought their cameras, and they’re all set.
I’m sitting in the back, watching the whole proceeding with rage.
Maurice has come to the stage a couple of times to address us. He doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, he left specific instructions to keep me out, but I managed to make my way in.
I’m waiting on Kane. We’ve come up with a plan.
I hope it works. It’s a hastily put together plan, which is making me antsy.
I hate hastily done things. I feel that there wasn’t enough time to make the plan work—there are a lot moving parts. Many things can go wrong, and each of these things have to be planned for because there should be contingencies.
There should be other plans: plan B, C, D…all the way to fucking Z. But Kane isn’t like this, and he’s the one running the show. It’s his plan—although I had inputs here and there, like me coming here and waiting for him to come.
In my mind, it’s kind of like a second plan. Because if what Kane has going on doesn’t work, I’m going to botch the whole proceeding. I don’t give a flying fuck what the media makes of it.
Hell, I might even go viral or trend as the guy who helped Diana save her ass from her predatory boss.
I look at my watch; it’s way past two. Kane should have called me by now.
Where is he?
I look around. I look to the back. No sign of Kane.
A media man to the right squints at me, his eyes trying to figure out why I look familiar. I look away.
I’m not wearing a disguise or anything. Still, I do know how to dress in such a way that I’m hard to spot. It’s why I’ve not been monsooned by the rabid newsmen and newswomen.
I’m wearing a tailored (but still discrete) Armani suit and dark shades. My fists are gently placed on my knees. I’m ready to knock anyone’s teeth in who tries to stop me from saving Diana should the occasion arise.
I know I’ve looked at my watch before, but I still do it again. It’s still past two, and Kane is still not here. I’m not feeling any better.
This is one reason why I take my time to think through problems, remain focused and shit. I hate being nervous. I hate being involved with things where I don’t have any control over anything.
I hate it.
I hate that I’m here, feeling helpless, while Maurice is tearing the shit out of Diana—while Maurice has this whole shit planned out where he’s making all the money, and Diana’s image is suffering, withering, and eventually going six feet under.
The fucking prick doesn’t have a conscience. A
fter several years of having set Kane and me apart, he’s still torturing our lives by taking the one thing—the one person that matters a lot to us—toying with our emotions and setting us afire with rage.
The bastard just doesn’t get enough of it. His cruelty knows no match. His cunning is unrivaled, and that’s why he’s always, always gotten underneath us and pulled out the carpet.
He’s always floored us, but I hope not this time.
This time, we’re going to get back at him.
Soon enough, Maurice comes up the stage. And I tell you, the guy sure knows how to dress up. He’s wearing an expensive looking designer C&K three-piece suit, which glitters in the harsh glare of the stage lights.
He’s clean shaven, no facial hair anywhere on his face. Although he’s pudgy looking, it seems as though he’s been working out because he’s looking a bit trim.
He’s holding a cordless mic in his hands. The moment he’s on stage, everyone is silent.
“I want to thank everyone for coming to this event,” he says, smiling at the crowd like the fox that he is. “I’m grateful that you all could leave your busy schedules and come to the photo shoot launch of my lingerie company.”
And then, he launches into a monologue of his many business accomplishments, right from when he swindled two college guys (of course, he doesn’t actually use the word swindle), to when he was running a photo-op and created the breakout star, Diana. And then he goes on and on about how he set up the entire thing to create that all perfect picture that broke the internet weeks ago.
The audience breaks into awed whispering, which just all the more makes me angry, because I know the weasel didn’t have anything to do with the picture.
Yes, it was his photo-shoot. Yes, they were his cameras. Nevertheless, it was an accident that caused the photo to be taken.
Perhaps the situation could have ended up differently. Diana could have been electrocuted or worse—charred beyond recognition. It was all because his poor ass production company didn’t want to spend money on a more convenient location for the shoot.
And now, here he is, giving himself all the credit. If I weren’t involved, I probably wouldn’t know the extent of Diana’s involvement in becoming a star. I’d just assume that the bastard created Diana, and there’s nothing more to it.
I feel the urge to step in now and prevent Maurice from spewing forth more lies, but I hold myself.
Not yet, I tell myself. Wait for the perfect time.
“…I digress,” the man says with a faked smile and hearty laughter. “You’re not here to know about me. You’re here for this new company, Pleasure, which I’m starting. You’re also here to see, for the first time since she became famous, Diana in action.”
He waits the applause that erupts through. Then, he says, “You know, there are few things I want to say.
“The end has come for companies that bastardize the sacred act of women products, companies that don’t care about their models and just push products that are not effective, companies that only care about the money they make and don’t care about their clients and how well their clients are…”
He pauses and smiles as he realizes that his diatribe now has the audience’s attention.
“…companies like Sinful and Lush.”
A whisper spreads across the room.
Maurice launches into another bitter monologue, and he spends a good fifteen minutes bashing both Lush and Sinful. Most of the things he’s saying are wrong and downright libel, but even I know that a lawsuit against him isn’t going to yield much.
Maurice is too smart for that. Some of his statements anger me, but I hold the anger in. I look at my watch, hoping that Kane will call me soon.
Maurice is rounding up his introductory speech, which basically comprises of him bashing my and Kane’s company, and he talking about himself. Even Diana—the reason why we’re all here—has yet to be mentioned well in his speech.
My phone buzzes. I see that it’s Kane.
I pick the call.
“It’s done. I’m on my way,” Kane says and then hangs up.
I smile.
“…enough of all that,” Maurice is saying. “Now, I present to you, Diana!”
Everyone turns to the right corner of the stage, where Diana walks into the lights.
I don’t take the time to look at her. I jump on my feet and make my way to the stage.
En route, I yell, “Hold your fucking horses, Maurice!”
The entire room comes to a standstill as all eyes are trained on me.
31
Diana
A few minutes after Maurice comes to call me, I walk out of the room. I follow a small corridor into the back stage.
From here, I have a glimpse of the crowd. It’s a small hall, but there are lots of people. And they’re all here to see me.
“When you’re out there,” the director says, “do everything he says to do. Follow the script. Otherwise, you know what he’ll do…”
Her voice trails off. She doesn’t need to reiterate what Maurice has threatened more than a hundred times to do. I’m aware, and I have no plans of disobeying him.
For Derek and Kane, for my parents…I’ll do it.
Maurice begins by lauding his various accomplishments through the years. Having spent some time with Derek, I immediately see the truth about the story he tells about meeting a couple of guys, whom he supposedly brainstormed with and paid to obtain their ideas.
I know that Maurice is lying, because he stole their ideas. Back then, they were small time entrepreneurs and couldn’t have gone up against a titan such as Maurice. And Maurice knew that.
Listening at Maurice’s shameless lies makes me sick.
Soon enough, he’s talking about Lush and Sinful. From the words he uses, it’s obvious that he hates them.
I look at the section of the crowd I can see. I watch as they desperately take notes. Newsworthy stuff.
Sometimes, the media can be gullible. Either that or they just like propaganda.
Maurice spends a lot of time on Lush and Sinful before he calls me out. I don’t expect a speech about how I’m famous, how I’m beautiful, or how I’m still trending and getting people talking. And I’m right, because he doesn’t mention any of that.
As I hear my name, I force my legs to move forward. Everything is screaming for me not to. What I really want to do is to turn on my heels and take off.
But I put on foot before the other. By the time I’m in the lights, I hear a rousing ovation.
The ovation doesn’t last long. Somewhere in the back of the room, a man shouts.
“Hold your fucking horses, Maurice!” the voice says.
I don’t need to look to know who it is. Derek.
My heart skips a beat. And I notice that Maurice goes rigid beside me.
Looking at the crowd, I see Derek descending the aisle, heading towards the stage. My heart begins to race.
In my peripheral vision, I see Maurice flash me a smoldering gaze. I want to scream at him and tell him I had nothing to do with this.
I also want to scream at Derek to get lost. But I don’t do either. I’m paralyzed beyond reason.
I begin wondering how dearly I’m going to pay for this. And considering I didn’t have a hand in it makes me very nervous.
I could explain things to Maurice, but I doubt that he’s going to listen to me. He’s very unreasonable when it comes to Derek and Kane; it’s as though he hates them since before he met them. He’ll just go ahead on his promised suing spree.
Lush and Sinful will pay, while I’ll be ruined forever.
And Derek doesn’t seem to mind that.
“You’re not welcome here, Derek!” Maurice screams.
No matter how serious and bold he tries to sound, I hear the fear in his voice.
I frown. What is he so scared off?
I look once again at Derek. Something’s missing. Where’s Kane?
The last I heard, the two had become an
unbreakable force. Yes, Maurice kept me up to date on the activities of the boys. He wanted me to know what they were doing, so if they got too close to botching his plan, he could let me loose to go break them up.
So, when I look around the crowd and don’t see Kane seated, I’m wary of what the two are cooking. After all, Kane has a flair for the dramatic.
What are they up to? I wonder, worry creeping up my throat.
“What are you afraid of, Maurice?” Derek replies. His voice is taunting. “Are you afraid I might break up your little company before it begins?”
I’m overwhelmed with a dreadful feeling. I want to scream at Derek, stop him from taunting the beast. Instead, I shut my mouth up and just look at the scene as it unfolds.
Maurice glances at the three guards standing by the stage.
“Stop him!” he yells at them.
Shit! Those guys aren’t your knockoff body guards. They are trained and very muscular.
Sure, Derek is, too, but there’s three of them and only one of him.
I take a step forward to try and stop this whole thing before Derek gets battered beyond recognition. But then, one threatening glance from Maurice stills me.
By the time the guards have mobilized to take down Derek, he’s already near the edge of the aisle, just a few yards away from the podium. Cameras are pointed at him. All attention is on what is about to happen.
“Sir, you can’t come any further,” the lead guard says.
He puts a hand forward to stop Derek.
Derek’s reaction is swift; he grabs the hand and yanks the man forward. The man doesn’t expect this kind of response from a CEO and is pulled forward too fast for him to process.
Derek slams a fist into the man’s abdomen, giving a WOOF! sound. The man gulps as air is driven out of his lungs. He falls to the ground, paralyzed, and gasping for breath.
I’m shocked senseless as Derek moves on to the two other men. One throws a punch, while the other sends a smashing kick towards Derek’s right ankle. Derek, however, dodges the punch while side stepping.
