Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week

by Charlotte Byrd

  Gatsby Tristan Wild.

  He will be the hardest man to get over.

  * * *

  I’m not sure how much time passes, but it’s getting dark outside. Suddenly, I get an overwhelming urge to run. I look through my closet and toss out almost all of the clothes on the floor, but I still can’t find my jogging clothes. I haven’t used them in ages. Finally, at the bottom of my dresser, in the last drawer that I look, I find a sports bra, shorts, and an old USC shirt that I’ve used for jogging and hiking. This will do.

  I drive to Runyon Canyon. There’s hardly any parking as always, but I’m lucky enough to find a spot right near the entrance.

  People in Los Angeles call Runyon Canyon a park, but it’s really a giant, steep hill made of yellow dust and dirt that rises a thousand or so feet above the city. The trail leading to the top is crowded with hikers, runners, walkers, and their dogs. I haven’t been here for a long time and start out walking. As thoughts of Gatsby flood my mind, I speed up my pace. I start to walk faster and faster to escape those thoughts.

  He has hurt me. Again. I had forgiven him the first time. I had forgiven his lies and his deceit. But this time, there will be no forgiveness. Not that he was even offering me any. And that’s what I hate most about him. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just trying to help, and he has banished me, fired me, excluded me from his life for NOTHING. Absolutely nothing.

  About half way up the hill, I realize that I am running. The more I think about Gatsby, the faster I run up the hill. I’m winded and out of breath, but something keeps me going. Something continues to fuel my climb and pushes me harder.

  How dare he fire me? How dare he push me out of his life for trying to convince him to do what’s best for him? He is a spineless asshole who doesn’t deserve a second thought, but I can’t stop them from coming and taking over my body. I can’t think of anything but Gatsby. And the harder I try to run away from him, the more I think of him.

  Finally, I make it to the top of the hill. From there, the expanse of Los Angeles fills the horizon all around. The view is breathtaking, but that’s not why I am out of breath. I’m sobbing so hard that I can hardly breathe. With all of my might, I try to take a full breath of air, but nothing comes in. And then, everything fades away to black.

  35

  I wake up in the emergency room with a handsome young doctor looking down on me.

  “She’s awake,” he yells, turning away from me. “Maggie?”

  I open my eyes and look around. The bright fluorescent lights blind me, and I put up my hand to block some of the glare. Suddenly, Maggie Mae appears. She stands over me with a wide smile on her face.

  “Oh, my God, you’re finally awake,” she says, giving me a warm hug. Keeping her long arm wrapped around me, I see her give off a sigh of relief.

  “I was so worried, sweetie,” she whispers.

  “About what?” I manage to say. My voice cracks and the sound that comes out doesn’t sound at all like me.

  “What’s going on?” I try again. This time, I sound more like me. I sit up in the bed. The first thing that pops into my head is that I have no way to pay for this bill, and it’s going to cost thousands.

  “How long have I been here?” I ask.

  “A while. Two days,” Maggie Mae says.

  Two days! No, no, no. This is crazy. This can’t be right. I couldn’t have been here for two days!

  “I have to get out of here,” I say and start moving to get out of the bed.

  “You can’t leave quite yet, Ms. York,” the doctor replies.

  “Annabelle, this is Elliot.” Maggie Mae smiles at me. Elliot? Didn’t they break up?

  “Yes, that Elliot,” Maggie Mae adds as if she’s able to read my mind.

  “I thought you broke up.”

  “We did. But then we got back together.”

  “How long have I been here?” I ask.

  “Ha ha,” Maggie Mae says sarcastically. “Very funny. But two days is a long time.”

  I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.

  “I still have to go.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t. Not just yet.” Elliot puts his hand on my arm.

  “You don’t understand. I just got fired. I don’t have insurance. And staying in the hospital for two days…that’s going to be, what, close to five thousand dollars? I can’t afford that.”

  “Actually, if you’re not insured, it’ll be close to ten. But that doesn’t matter. You’re not well yet.”

  “Of course it matters!” I brush his hand off my shoulder. He may mean well, but he doesn’t have to pay my bills.

  “Annabelle, you can’t leave now. You just passed out in the park. On the top of Runyon Canyon. They had to airlift you out of there.”

  Oh my God! I can’t hear this anymore. My mind goes blank.

  Airlift.

  “They airlifted me out of there? Like with a helicopter?”

  “Yes, of course. You just passed out, and you wouldn’t come back.”

  “Why didn’t they just leave me there?” I whisper. How was I ever going to pay for that? That was going to be thousands and thousands of dollars that I would never have. I was already saddled with debt for the rest of my life. And now, I was going to be saddled with debt for many lives to come. If there was such a thing!

  “Are you insane?” Maggie Mae is talking to me. But only some of the words are coming through. I start to feel very dizzy again. The room starts to spin.

  “They couldn’t just leave you there!” Maggie Mae adds.

  “She’s going to pass out again!”

  When I open my eyes again, I find myself in a large room with giant windows. The sun is shining, and no one is rushing around me. Soft classical music is playing in the background. The sheets are the softest I’ve ever touched. Egyptian cotton, has to be.

  Sitting up in the bed, I notice that no more harsh fluorescent lights are blinding me. No annoying beeping noises. Come to think of it, this place doesn’t even look like a hospital. Is it a hospital?

  I start to look around for signs of health and decay. No such luck. I look at my wrist and see a wristband with my name, age, and address on it. Yes, it’s a hospital.

  A knock on the door startles me.

  “Can I come in, Ms. York?”

  The voice is familiar. But who does it belong to?

  “Yes,” I say. My voice is frail and uncertain.

  A handsome young man enters. I’ve seen him before. But where? Oh yes, of course!

  “I’m Dr. Elliot Green.” He extends his hand. “I’m terribly sorry about before. That was all too much for you, and I should’ve predicted it. Too much stress and trauma.”

  “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember talking to Maggie Mae? Arguing about whether or not to stay at the hospital.”

  Oh, yes! Everything comes flooding back to me. I have to get out of here. God knows how long I’ve been here this time. And this room looks much more expensive than the last!

  “Before you start worrying again about the bill, I want to tell you that it has been covered. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s been covered. I shouldn’t be telling you this because we typically keep that kind of information private, but I don’t want you to try to leave again or worry about something you shouldn’t worry about.”

  “Who covered it?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “You have to tell me. Or I’m leaving.”

  My voice is stronger this time. There’s power behind it, the strength of which surprises both Dr. Green and me.

  “Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Maggie Mae knows, but that’s about it.”

  I nod.

  “You have to promise me out loud. I’m breaking the law here. If you tell anyone, I can get fired.”

  “Okay, I promise.” I nod again.

  “Gatsby Wild fro
m Wild International is covering the bill. Maggie Mae told me that you know him. He’s your boss.”

  I nod and then shake my head. “No, not anymore. He fired me.”

  “Well, regardless. He came in a couple of days ago, after he found out what happened, and said to send him all of the bills. So you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  I shake my head. I can’t believe what he’s saying. This can’t be true. Why would Gatsby do this?

  Twenty-four hours later, I’m finally released. Maggie Mae takes me home.

  “No one knows what made you pass out,” Maggie Mae says in the car. “But Elliot suspects that you were severely dehydrated and stressed out.”

  “That is one way of putting it,” I say. “Another way to put it is that I was heartbroken. Am heartbroken.”

  “What possessed you to run up that hill like that, Annabelle? You haven’t worked out in so long. And you didn’t even bring any water with you.”

  “I don’t know. I was just really sad. And I had all of these thoughts swirling inside of my head about everything that happened with Gatsby. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, I had to get away.”

  Maggie Mae doesn’t say anything for awhile. She helps me up the stairs to our second-floor apartment. Then, right before we walk in, she turns to me.

  “Okay, don’t get mad?” she asks. I wait for whatever she’s going to ask me that’s going to make me mad enough for her to say that.

  “Promise? Okay, please promise?”

  “I’m tired of promises,” I sigh.

  “Okay. You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you? Because that would be really, really stupid, Annabelle. You are such a great person. I love you, lots of people love you. And I would never want to think that you would even consider doing that. Let alone over some guy.”

  I start to laugh.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, except that the one thing that didn’t occur to me through all of what was going on was trying to kill myself. “To answer your question, no. Of course not. I was just running. I had to run hard and fast, and I wanted to get away from everything.”

  She nods and opens the door.

  “You don’t know what happened, Maggie,” I say, sitting down on the couch. I want to explain everything to her. I don’t want her to think that I’m just some pathetic loser. There was a reason for everything that happened. Well, not everything.

  “Yes, I do,” she nods.

  “What?”

  “Gatsby came by. After you were airlifted out of Runyon Canyon. Apparently, he heard about it on the news.”

  “He came by?”

  “Yes, he came by, and he told me everything. That’s when he offered to pay your bills.”

  I stare at her. I don’t know what to think. When she says everything, does that mean everything about Atticus and their father? No, it couldn’t include that. But without that, none of this makes sense.

  36

  A knock at the door breaks my concentration. My head is starting to pound. I don’t care who that is, I don’t want to see anyone. I go to the kitchen to get an aspirin. When I come back, I find Gatsby sitting in my living room.

  “I’m going to give you some time to talk,” Maggie Mae says, grabbing her purse.

  “No, don’t go,” I say.

  “I gotta go to work anyway. It’s going to be fine,” she says and closes the door.

  I can’t believe that she has left me alone with him! I gather the strength to kick him out.

  “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you here,” I say, turning to face him.

  “I’m just here to see whether or not you’re okay. I was really worried,” he whispers. His vulnerability is disarming, but I remain strong. He did this to me. I hate him. And I want him out.

  “Well, now that you’ve seen that I’m okay, please leave, Mr. Wild.”

  I add Mr. Wild to create distance, but he takes a step forward and destroys whatever distance that I create.

  “Please, Annabelle, don’t be like that.”

  “Like what, huh? Like what, Gatsby? You asshole.”

  “Annabelle, I want to explain something.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Nothing. I don’t want to listen to a word you have to say. You’re dead to me.”

  “No, I can’t be,” he whispers. I look away and wait. But he doesn’t leave. When I turn back to him, I see that his eyes are moist. He wipes a small tear with the back of his hand.

  “No, no, no. I don’t care, Gatsby. Just like you didn’t care that day. Just like you fired me for nothing. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you just kicked me out. I was just trying to help.”

  “I know,” he whispers. “I know. I was such a dick. I was lost, Annabelle. I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted you to stop talking. And as soon as you left, even before that, I realized what an asshole I’ve been.”

  I roll my eyes. Whatever.

  “Atticus came over after that. He apologized and begged my forgiveness. My father was there, and he immediately took his side. He forgave him, and they both started pressuring me to hide all that from the shareholders. But I kept hearing your words in my head. I knew that they were going to try to convince me to take the fall if any of this was ever found out. I just knew they would. Atticus would just cry and stomp his feet and get his way. So after father left, I talked to him. I told him what I thought. I told him that I would lend him the money, whatever he owed, but there was no way we were going to go ahead and defraud the shareholders. Most aren’t wealthy at all. Most are middle-class people who invested some of their retirement into this company because they believe in it. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to them.”

  I nod. I am happy to hear that something good was coming out of this. I am happy that he has finally started to do the right thing.

  “So what happened?” I ask. His eyes light up. He’s taking my question as a good sign that I’m ready to forgive him, but I’m nowhere close to that.

  Not yet.

  “I asked him to admit what he has done. To get a lawyer and say that he was terribly sorry about the whole thing.”

  “There’s no way he did that.” I laugh. I don’t mean it. I’m not a cynic, but being around Gatsby recently has turned me into one.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says. “But then he surprised me. He said he would. And he did.”

  “What? Really?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “Our father wasn’t into it at all, but Atticus was. He apologized. He made a speech. He got a lawyer, and it looks like he might get off with just probation. Especially because there was no investigation. We have very good lawyers.”

  “I can’t believe that he agreed to it.” I shake my head.

  “I lent him the money that he owed, and he’s going into treatment for gambling and alcoholism soon. Father isn’t happy about any of this, but then again, he’s not in charge.”

  I nod.

  “So what I want to say to you, Annabelle, is I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I was a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have done any of that. You were the best thing that happened to me, and I just threw it all away. I want you to come back to work. I want you…”

  He let his voice trail off. We both know what he means. But all of this is too much for me. I’m happy for him, but as for the job and the relationship, I can’t quite comprehend any of it right now.

  “I think I need to lay down,” I say. I have been standing for some time, and my legs are starting to feel weak.

  Gatsby helps me to my bed. He undoes the covers and tucks me in.

  “Would you mind if I stay here with you? I can just sit in this chair. I just want to stay,” he says.

  I nod. The medication they gave me at the hospital is finally taking effect. I want to keep my eyes open and ask him a million questions about everything that has happened, but I can’t. I don’t have the energy. I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.

/>   I wake up a few hours later. Gatsby is fast asleep on the most uncomfortable chair in the entire known universe – my desk chair. This isn’t the soft leather recliner on which I sit on at work. No, this chair is made of wood and has only a thin layer of padding on the seat.

  “Hey, you’re awake.” He gets up when I sit up in bed.

  “Yes, so are you.” I smile.

  “Oh, I just drifted off for a second,” he says. By the way his body is contorted, I can see that he was asleep for some time.

  “Oh, my God, I’m so sore,” he whimpers.

  “That’ll teach you about sleeping at my desk,” I say with a laugh.

  “How can you get anything done here? This chair is awful.”

  “Eh, maybe. But that chair was only ten dollars at Rite Aid.”

  “That’s it. As soon as I get back home, I’m ordering you a proper chair. It should be illegal to sit on something like that.”

  We both start to laugh.

  “Come, sit here and I’ll rub your back,” I say without a second thought. He jumps into bed next to me, and I rub his lower back. He pulls up his shirt, exposing his strong, powerful, tanned back. I rub it for a few minutes and then stop.

  “Better?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Well, that’s all you’re getting.”

  He gets up and frowns at me. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. All the things left unsaid between us are building. The atmosphere of the room is getting thick with the tension.

  “Gatsby…” I start. I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I have to say something.

  “Annabelle, I just want to say again. I’m sorry. Terribly sorry. I was an asshole, and you don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who loves you, cares for you, and doesn’t have all this shit around him all the time. And yet, I still want to ask you…”