Shouldn't Have Dealt

by Mara Lynne

  “What did he say this time, Mom?” I ask, swiveling my legs to the other side of the table to let Cairo, Dad’s new cat, occupy the space while he eats his piece of fishbone. Deep inside, I know what it is about, though.

  “This time, he said it will be different without you.” Mom’s lips turn into a thin line. I think she doesn’t believe that line. “When you talk to him, tell him to try something new, okay?”

  It’s not like I’ll ever talk to that man again.

  Dad sneaks into the kitchen to get some salted jelly from the fridge when Mom yells at him.

  “I just want something salty!” He reasons out, looking like a three-year-old.

  “Dr. Martin said no water-retaining foods, for now, George! How hard-headed can you get?”

  “It’s cheat day today.” He continues to gobble through the jelly in seconds, winking at me as though expecting my support.

  “You had your cheat day yesterday, Dad,” I say under my breath.

  “Sweetie?” His face quickly goes red.

  “Now, Angel has a good memory, George.” Mom walked toward Dad in heavy steps and swiftly seizes the jelly out of his hands.

  “Can’t I have two cheat days in a week?”

  “Not gonna happen.” She slaps Dad’s bum and pushes him out of the kitchen.

  My phone suddenly rings. On the line is my boss, Tessie Thatcher.

  “Mohr, I want you in my office. Now!”

  I swear, whenever I hear her voice, I am reminded of a pig about to be roasted. Her voice is just so annoying.

  “Mom, gotta go!” I hurry to the living room where Mom and Dad are watching America’s Next Top Model.

  I kiss both of them on the cheek.

  “Don’t be late. Ray called and said he’d bring Chinese food tonight,” Mom says.

  “Let’s have Thai this time, okay?” Dad’s face shows just how much he craves for real food.

  “You’re not even eating Chinese.” Mom nudges him on the stomach. “You’ll have your own special diet.”

  Tessie Thatcher must not be kept waiting. As soon as I reach the thirtieth floor of The Mezzanine, I hurriedly dump my things on my desk and scuttle right away to Thatcher’s office. May, my ever loquacious friend, glues her glare on me as though warning me of an imminent catastrophe. She is vivacious and loud, and she likes to sing than read, but just like me, her motivating factor to get this job is financial sustenance.

  “How long has she been waiting for me?” I ask, tucking my blouse into my skirt.

  “Thirty minutes. Where have you been?” She helps me arrange my blazer and ties the large pink ribbon under my collar.

  “I was at home. I wasn’t coming until ten, and it’s still nine forty. Why would she be mad?”

  May shrugs her shoulders and bats her eyelashes.

  “Yeah, she always gets mad,” I answer while stopping myself from laughing. Tessie Thatcher is way past her prime. She must be in her fifties, and if I heard it right, rumors say she just recently concluded her very last menstrual cycle.

  “You better get inside now.” May pushes the sliding door to the left and winks at me before I go inside the cave.

  I can’t understand the uneasiness that is slowly rising within me. I am always used to Thatcher’s admonishments. Though illogical at times, I just know she has all the right to do it because she’s my boss. But this time, I feel it’s different. She never calls me before ten in the morning. Something is off. What could it be?

  Did I mess up the Dalton deal?

  Did I send a manuscript to the wrong printing center?

  What did I just do?

  “Tessie?” I let out a huge breath before faking a smile.

  “Good you’re finally here!” She swiftly turns her heels to me from the large view of the bustling city. Her claws with red nail polish fit the color of the immaculate white folder she is holding, and with that smile, I can only say one thing—she is up to something.

  “I am not late, am I?”

  “You are. When I say be here in thirty minutes, you must be anywhere around this vicinity in fifteen minutes,” she astutely states with her chin held up high.

  I think for a while. Maybe somewhere in the chambers of my memory, there might be a hint of that instruction that I just missed to comprehend. With my mouth pressed together, I choose not to contradict Thatcher. It will be worse than World War II if I dare to disagree with her.

  She sauntered toward the divan at the center of her office and sits right at the center like a queen. She then motions her hand to the couch next to her as though telling me to take a seat.

  The very quiet three seconds seem too long. I can even hear myself breathing. Thatcher has her eyes only to me.

  “Is there something I must know?”

  I swear, I can hear my heart pounding like a sledgehammer.

  “We are near bankruptcy!”

  It isn’t something new, I guess. The rumor has been circulating for a month now, and Thatcher confirming it to me today just seals our fate.

  Oh, God! Is she telling me this thing because I am the first one in her list to be sent to early retirement?

  “And if we don’t do anything about this, we might see ourselves jobless in a month,” adds Thatcher. The condescending look on her face is replaced with denial and worry. “The last time we had a best seller was thirty-six months ago. Our books are not doing so well. Our writers are frustrated with us and are requesting for a contract review. Do you know what this means? They’re no longer happy with our services. Sooner or later, they will leave us.”

  “We should address this issue then to our marketing department,” I say. “When our writers get good advertising, I am one hundred percent sure the sales will soar. Book signings, media interview—those are the few things we can do. I’ll get Taylor here. He knows more about this than me.”

  “No! Stay where you’re at!” Thatcher stands from where she’s seated and walks toward her table. Facing me, with her hands on her desk, she gives me that lethal glare.

  “Someone’s trying to buy us out,” she goes on. “He’s going to take everything we have here if we can’t save this business in two weeks.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Samuel Evans.”

  “Samuel Evans?”

  “He’s a representative from the Stone Publishing. Got no idea why something as big as Stone would want anything from us.”

  Chapter 3: Goble and Verne

  “What? You mean Thatcher has you by the neck?” I can imagine Ray’s veins bulging out of his neck.

  I switch my phone to my other ear. His surprised reaction exceeded the capacity of my ear for sound frequency. I felt the cold air brushing my legs. I should have worn a thicker pair of black stockings. They aren’t helping me at all. Even my deep red knee-length coat cannot keep me warm from winter. I just reminded myself to buy thicker ones for next time.

  “She’ll fire me if I can’t persuade Eva Goble to sign with us.”

  “Eva Goble?”

  Thatcher seriously believes that when we get Goble, our problem will disappear into thin air like a bubble. If we get her to sign with us, money will flow like rain—a thunderstorm even if we get lucky.

  “The suspense thriller writer who breached her contract with Stone Publishing.”

  “Hold on!”

  I know hearing Stone’s name will raise his interest.

  “I know what you are thinking, Ray. He’s behind this,” I reply. “He just won’t stop.”

  Hunter Stone, I guess, finally resorted to desperate measures. His brain has finally drained all creativity he has in there. If he cannot get me through persistence and leniency, then he might with this. It’s my job at stake! I am nobody without this! My Dad’s dialysis depends wholly on this one job I have.

  “Where are you now? Are you going to Stone and surrender yourself, Angel?”

  I actually thought of that. What an easy way to end this! I could both save the publishing house and still be
assured of Dad’s continuous treatment. The last time I had to make a decision for my family’s sake, I ended up ensnared by the delusion of fairytales; I ended up blinded by the promises of forever; I ended up falling too hard that I had to die before I get rid of the feelings. Die? Not literally, but I did. I was worse than a living corpse when Damien left me.

  “Hey, Angel? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, Ray.”

  I do not want to stress myself thinking about the past. Mom is right. Moving forward is the only way for me. I was trapped in the wilderness for months; I don’t want to go in there again. Not this time with this one, I guess.

  “No. I am not going to Stone.”

  I heard a sigh of relief from Ray.

  “You almost got me there, dear Angel.”

  “I am actually outside Eva Goble’s house. I am going to try this one out,” I say.

  This time, I am going to use my brain and my confidence in myself and my capabilities. I did not get into McGarry’s Publishing for nothing. I was the second best when I graduated from the university. I always do well when I put my mind into something.

  “Go for it, Angel! Prove to Thatcher she was wrong for blackmailing you.”

  “She will be proven wrong, Ray.”

  Before I knock on her door, I check myself with my compact mirror. I retouch my cheek tint and light pink lipstick. I want to look presentable for the reputable Eva Goble. I heard she’s a bit critical of people’s appearance, especially to those she talks to. May said Eva’s just aging too fast that’s why she’s always cranky. Well, she’s way in her fifties.

  But I am definitely amazed at how she maintains her beauty.

  When her door opens, I see a woman with long, wavy, chocolate brown hair in a fitted green dress that wraps around her busty body. I mean, May’s description do not coincide with the beauty in front of me. She doesn’t look like she is fifty or fifty-five. She looks just like Sophia Vergara.

  “How can I help you?” She has this Spanish accent which I find pretty amusing to hear. She is from Venezuela, but she is married to an American for thirty years now. Her stories are always set in South America, though.

  “Hello, Ms. Goble.” I offer my hand for a handshake.

  Taken aback by my unexpected visit, she places her hands on her hips and scrutinizes me from head to toe. “Who are you?”

  “Hi, I’m Angel Mohr of McGraddy Publishing.” I withdraw my hand after realizing she’s not much into handshakes.

  “Oh, Thatcher sent you here, didn’t she?”

  “She called you?”

  “She has been bothering me for a week now. I guess you’re here for some business. However, I am not interested in working under Thatcher’s umbrella. I will only consider publishing if Stone gives me an offer. It’s Stone or nothing.”

  “But I heard you had some issues with Stone Publishing.” I can’t be mistaken.

  She let out a deep breath. Her pretty eyelashes are really long, and I won’t deny they distract me every time she bats them.

  “Did you hear any part of the rumor that says I am not happy with Stone?”

  I shake my head. I don’t think I heard that from Thatcher.

  “Writers like me are always happy to be with a publishing company like Stone’s.”

  “But—”

  Before I can even continue, she cuts me off.

  “It’s Stone or nothing, sweetie. Good night!” She slams the door in front of my nose.

  This is really odd. I am positive Thatcher relayed me the right news. Eva Goble breached her contract with Stone Publishing because she wasn’t happy with their offer. She did not sound like she was unhappy with them, though. Why breach her contract when all she wants is for Stone to publish her book?

  Seriously! I got no clue about what is happening.

  I leave Goble’s apartment building right after I was blatantly rejected. I think I’ll just hit the road and maybe get Mom and Dad some really good midnight snacks. It’s not all the time we eat ice cream. Besides, Ray will be coming over for dinner.

  While I wait for a cab just outside Goble’s apartment building, a black car pulls in at the curb. The door window slides down, and a hazy picture of a man trying to stretch his neck toward the window appears.

  “Angel?”

  It was not until the third time he called my name that I realized it was Colin Verne.

  “Colin?!”

  “Are you going to Max’s?”

  “No. I’m actually going home now.”

  “I’ll give you a ride then.” With that beam, I know he’d be more than happy to hear me say ‘yes.’

  “It’s not really necessary, Colin.”

  “I insist, Angel.” He’s already gone out of his car and opened the door for me. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  His hair is a little darker now—dark blond, I guess, and he wears more stylish clothes compared to before

  I enter his car, and Colin fires his engine and starts driving.

  “It’s good to see you looking so well, Colin.” His job as a chemist must be rare to find. “How’s the young chemist then? Making a difference in the world?”

  He slyly smiles.

  “I did not pursue my profession, Angel. A month after my grandma died, I moved to New York.”

  His grandma died?

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  The sorrow in his eyes, although he is trying to hide it with smiles, is so painful to watch.

  “She’s already in a good place. I could not ask for more.”

  I wish I can do something to cheer him up.

  “Hey, are you up for some fun tonight, Colin?”

  “Sounds not like you, Angel.”

  “A few changes are actually helpful.”

  The banging music from the stereo in the middle of the dance floor is breaking my skull apart. It’s too loud that I actually I might go deaf after I leave the venue. Girls, I presume who are above eighteen, are crazily dancing. They wave their hands in the air, shake their hips in a trance, whisk their hair everywhere, and jump like there’s no tomorrow. When I was their age, I am pretty sure I was getting ready for the SAT.

  “I don’t think you like it here, Angel,” says Colin as he hands over a glass of juice.

  “The last time I went into a pub was three years ago,” I reply, tracing the rim of my glass with my point finger. “Ray was with me, and we got really drunk that I had to be absent from class for a day. He only had epigastric pain while I got the worst of the pack.”

  Can’t imagine how I survived several episodes of vomiting and a horrible headache without getting hospitalized. The worse thing was I was grounded for two weeks. No movie dates with Ray; no dine outs with my friends; and worst of all, I missed the field trip to Central Park.

  “It’s really loud in here!” I guess I have to compete with the Black Eyed Peas now. Their music has been playing for the last hour.

  It’s pretty amusing to see Colin make those cute facial expressions whenever I say something. He’s too eager to listen to me. His face reminds me of a schoolboy who’s so into his teacher’s lecture.

  “You don’t like the cocktail?” he asks. “I can get you a new one.”

  “No. I am fine with this,” I answer.

  “So, you still work at Max’s, Angel?”

  “No. I got a job at a publishing company downtown.” A day after I got a call from May about my starting salary, I just couldn’t keep the news to myself. I had to say goodbye to everyone in Max’s. Ray, on the other hand, left after the incident with Hunter and Damien. He was extremely mad at me, he even refused to say goodbye. “But I make sure I keep in touch with my friends there,” I add.

  “You must have missed them so much.”

  Now that Ray is back, I think I’d schedule a surprise visit to Max’s someday.

  “Yes, I do, but I love my job now. It pays the bill.”

  “Right!” Colin smiles, his dimples surfacing.

 
Now I am reminded that I might lose the one thing that pays the bill. I think I have to stay up late tonight strategizing. Stone has managed to find my waterloo, and he’s taking it against me. Whatever he has in mind, I have to be prepared.

  “Colin, I think I have to go now.” I push the chair back and stand on my feet. Then I pick up my coat from the seat next to me and slide my arms into the sleeves briskly. I have to buy ice cream for Mom and Dad.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “Angel.” My eyes grow wide when his hand reaches for the small of my back. “I have been in your neighborhood many times before. Remember when we were graders? I don’t think I know of somebody who knows your neighborhood more than I do.”

  Chapter 4: The Inevitable

  I stop by the stair landing with my arms crossed.

  “Thanks for inviting me over, Angel,” Colin says. His car is parked just a few meters away from the pathway. “Your dad is really cool. It’s good that he’s doing well, and your mom makes the homiest chicken pie.”

  From the corner of my eye, I catch a view of Ray and Mom peeping through the window. When they saw me, Ray quickly draws the curtains down.

  “And Ray knows Chinese cuisine so well,” adds Colin.

  “Thanks for the ride, Colin, and for picking the right ice cream.” Dad was so overjoyed when he found out there was a new flavor in town. I bet he’ll find dark chocolate a bit boring now. “It’s always chocolate ever since I was a little girl. However, I don’t think it’s a good idea to introduce mango ice cream to dad’s palate.”

  “George will get into it. A little of everything is not harmful, I guess.”

  Okay. So it’s getting really awkward and cold now. My cotton sweater is too sheer for the night breeze, and being watched by Ray through the living room window is a total inconvenience.

  “We should go out sometimes,” Colin manages to say before I blurt out goodbye. “You and me. Dinner.”