by Emily Bishop
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.”
“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 bla
ck 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.
“Tell me about it there. How’s it been? Is the app ready?”
“It’s been… interesting,” Lucy says.
I take a gulp of my drink and nearly choke on the alcohol and spice. “Oh? How so?”
“Well, Mr. Knight has been in an incredible temper since that whole incident. People are afraid to talk to him for fear of him biting their heads off. Did you know he hit Kieran?”
Oh, good, Booker’s also prone to violence. Great choice in men, Sasha.
“That doesn’t surprise me. I was never interested in being with that tyrant.”
“He does seem to have quite the temper,” Lucy observes.
My heart cries out. Deep down, I know Booker is nothing like he portrays himself in the workplace. I know that on the inside he is so much more, so much better a person.
What does that matter, though, when it’s not the man he shows to the rest of the world? Or even me, for that matter? I can’t love a man who hides who he truly is behind closed doors only to be a monster out in the open.
“Otherwise everything is crazy busy, but we’ll pull it off. Somehow, we always do.”
“That’s great, Lucy, really. I’m glad that everything is going well, in spite of his behavior.”
I don�
�t want to call him Mr. Knight, but I don’t want to call him Booker, either. I don’t want Lucy to know I still think of him all the time. Even in my dreams, he haunts me.
I wish I could hate him as much as I should.
“Yeah. So what are you going to do, now that that job is a no-go?”
I release a breath. It’s the question I’ve been avoiding, that I slipped into a bar to hide from. I know the answer, but I don’t want to face it. I suppose I really have no choice.
“I’m going home for good. There’s nothing for it. I tried my best here and clearly couldn’t cut it. It was worth a try, but New York is no place for someone like me.”
“Sasha, that’s not true. You have options. You just need to keep looking.”
“I’m out of time,” I say. Sad resolution sets over me at my own words. I’m not just telling Lucy. I’m telling myself. “I’m going to leave New York, and that’s that. I still can’t thank you enough for everything you did for me, Luce. You’ve been the best friend a girl could ask for, and I’ll never forget it.”
“You sound determined,” Lucy says.
“I am. Money’s run out. It’s time to go home. Hey, I’ve gotta get going. I’ll let you know when I get settled back home, OK?”
“Sasha—”
“Bye, Lucy.”
I end the call and stare into the watered-down pink liquid inside my glass. I thought I was so brave when I came here, that I was going to take on the world. Instead, I ended up ruining any chance I had at a better life.
Maybe there’s something more for me that I missed in Pennsylvania. I suppose I’ll have to go home and hope I can find it.
I pay my bill and hold on to the extra cash. I’ll need all I can get, and this was probably already a waste.
I guess I’ll be heading home now. I glance down at Booker’s letter again and shove it deeper into my bag.
No use wasting time on empty dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Booker
I stare down at a pile of invitation prototypes for the gala on my desk. This was something Sasha and I should have been working on together, something we could have really turned into the perfect draw.
