Black Gold

by Angelika Robinson

  “Nothing about you is homely,” he answers. “You’re positively glamorous.”

  A frown instantly appears on my face. “I really hope that’s not what attracts you about me. Because that’s not who I truly am. Maybe it’s my fault, for making you think that way. But that’s an act. A mask. That’s who I am when I sit down at my desk at work, or when I’m bringing documents over between Legal and Procurement. But the real me, after I’m done with work? That’s not who I am.”

  “I know,” Magnus responds. “I don’t expect you to be, either. I want you for you.”

  “And I want you for you,” I agree.

  Instead, he shakes his head. “You don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t press me on about how you think I can’t be both your boss and your boyfriend at the same time. That’s very untrue, and it’s… just plain awful, Shaleigh.”

  “Awful,” I murmur.

  “I don’t mean to be harsh here,” Magnus affirms. “But it’s important we all have our cards on the table. We’re negotiating a successful, long-term relationship. And yet there are a few things you won’t bend on. That’s not good deal-making.”

  Slowly, I turn my gaze away from him. “You’re saying this whole billionaire playboy thing is the real you? That it’s not my place to tell you I don’t like it when I see these pictures, especially when you’re there because of an argument you had with me?”

  “No, that’s not it,” Magnus says with a shake of his head. “That’s something you have me pegged wrong.”

  “So it’s this normalcy thing. Or this boss-boyfriend divide thing,” I consider.

  “Yes. I’m perfectly capable of separating work and play. The problem here is that you can’t. You never have.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Licking my wounds. Sitting in Phil’s car. Wishing I had accepted Magnus’ offer to stay the night, even if I took one of his other rooms instead. “I have six,” he tried to joke, but it fell flat in my ears.

  “So,” I murmur to myself, still gripping the keys tight. I glance up, out the window, trying to see the top of Magnus’ building. No, I can’t see the penthouse from this angle.

  My head is pounding with a lot of questions, but all of them start the same.

  Why?

  Why did I bother with all this? Why did I bother applying for this job, getting involved with this man? He’s unlike any man I’ve ever encountered. Self-assured, confident, powerful… but also aware of his shortcomings. Of how his cockiness hides a sensitive soul he’s only revealed to me, and how he must feel like an idiot for doing that.

  I don’t ever want to abuse his trust.

  So, why?

  Is this the why that has me asking why I came here? Why I left my hometown to get involved in urban drama of a bigger scale?

  The answer to that is easy, even if I feel my vision clouding from the tears forming, but not falling. “I had to,” I choke.

  Don’t think for a second I don’t feel terrible about leaving everything and everyone behind — but I had to.

  My reputation was in tatters, the result of evil whispers spread by Dennis. This was a man who was all too happy to use whatever authority he had to ruin me. This was a man who effortlessly twisted everything I had to say, if only to make it seem like I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what I’m talking about. That he’s the one in the right in every situation.

  Being around him had always felt like walking on eggshells. But when I was with him, I felt trapped.

  So, to my own question of why: to get away from Dennis. To get away from the danger my life was in.

  The immediate aftermath of leaving was difficult. I cried every night, reliving painful memories, feeling alone in this big city until I got my place, and met Phil.

  Even then, at least I felt like no matter how much I had to deal with, my heart still felt strong.

  Now, I’m not so sure. Magnus tells me in his own way that he’s invested a lot into our relationship, but he’s having doubts because that investment doesn’t appear to be getting returns.

  The only way that makes sense to me is to draw it out in business terms. The way he’d think.

  I know I’m in no state to drive, but I manage it anyway. Phil’s car barely crawls as I leave only the gentlest control over the gas, unable to concentrate, unable to process.

  By the time I’m close to home, I’m emotionally sober enough to make a loop around our neighborhood and look for the closest gas station, so I can at least fill his car’s tank up full. It’s only polite.

  I glance in the mirror. Polite. Ah, that’s the Shaleigh I missed. Cool under fire.

  I feel anything but that, but if anyone was looking in, I’d be able to convince them otherwise. If not for the smeared makeup, at least.

  There is a sound echoing in my head right now. The sound of Magnus sighing, frustrated with me, but keeping his calmness. Refusing to escalate this, the way I want. Yet, it doesn’t make me feel better. I want him to lash out at me. I want to see the same sort of anger, frustration and passion the way he blew up at the office. I want him to do it here, do it just to me, do it so I know it’s real.

  But I realize now that he may have a point, that my views on what passes as normal might be some artificial thing, that I’ve been deluding myself that I’m somehow the gatekeeper of everything that truly is ordinary and real.

  When I get home, I’m relieved to see that Phil’s already gone to bed. As much as he’s helpful in comforting me, I don’t want him to see me like this. Drained, defeated. Questioning why I even left my abusive relationship — imagine that, how stupid can I be for even questioning that.

  I tiptoe back to my room and go to my laptop on my bed. I do something I’ve not wanted to do for a long time. I reactivate my old Facebook.

  Goddamn it, I just miss everyone so much. I wipe away the tears and scroll through my timeline, wanting to quickly update myself on the world, on all the friends I left behind. I make sure to switch Messenger off, struggling at first to find the right buttons in the settings section, but eventually I do so.

  I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to watch. I want to see mundane parts of people’s lives. Photos of their kids playing in playgrounds. Status updates arguing dumb shit about politics.

  There’s a small, sad smile that rises to my face when I see exactly that. I see high school friends posting funny videos, I see distant family members criticising the President, I see random “how are you?” questions posted by elderly friends, barely able to use Facebook.

  There’s something calming about being able to connect with everyone like this — even if it’s from a distance. I tremble as I try to type out Grandma’s name, hoping I’d find a reference to her on anyone’s page… but I can’t bring myself to do that. I’ve tried so hard to keep that inside. To not think about it.

  Mentally, I’m treating everyone dearest to me from home as hostages, somehow, to Dennis’ threats.

  I linger for an hour before deactivating my account again. By the end of it, I’m sad again.

  Weak again.

  Magnus is right. About how I’m not making it easy for him, too, that I prefer complication over simplicity. I’m still very, very mad, but I’m also very sad. Sad because I understand him.

  There’s a knock on my door and I look up as Phil opens it.

  “Hey, Shell. I can hear you crying… I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  My hands rush to my face and I realize I’ve just been kneeling in bed in front of my computer, crying. Zoned out, crying, blurring time away.

  I try on a smile and offer it to my roommate. “No, thanks a lot, Phil. Just thinking about some heavy things. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “You never bother me, Shell,” Phil says. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. I’m sorry, though, I really mean it. You don’t deserve sadness. Ever.”

  I keep the smile on until he leaves, clicking the door behind him.

  Then I slowly lower myself to bed, re
ady to sleep.

  As I close my eyes, I think back about the instances of tonight. Maybe this is just how things play out. I want reality and normalcy so much, after all. Maybe that’s how it goes for relationships like mine and Magnus’.

  Real relationships have their ups and downs.

  Real relationships end, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Before I can go to work in the morning, I need an extra long shower. The steam surrounding me gives me energy. I feel like I’m slowly building up the strength of will to show up at the office today. My eyes are sore from all the crying. But when I stand up, I stand up straight. I stand up ready to face work, ready to face the world.

  Maybe even ready to face Magnus.

  Keeping my head down at work comes naturally to me after a bad week like this. Everything is easier when I don’t have to lift my head up and acknowledge the wider world around me. I have a series of tasks to check off on my list, and with each one that needs to be done, I’m one step closer to the end of the work day.

  “You should take a break, Shaleigh,” a guy named Parker tells me before I dive into a mid-morning meeting. “You’ve gotten more done this AM than I’ve seen most departments here get done in a month. At this rate we’re going to be ahead of schedule, and that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

  His smile comes with teeth. And those flirty eyes. Damn, this boy thinks he can get with me. “I don’t see anything wrong with being ahead of schedule. I mean, that frees you up some time, right? Time to not have to stress about this Australia deal.”

  Parker shakes his head. “No, no, see… when you push things so far ahead of schedule, we’re all dragged along. We have to work double-time to be on the same level. That’s a bit tougher than it seems.”

  “Oh,” I begin to see his point. “Well, I’ve done everything you guys here at this department need. Maybe I can see if I can be helpful on some other floor?”

  “We’re all waiting on the next set of duties, so go right ahead. But don’t forget us here, okay? You’re amazing, and I’d hate to have to argue with Legal about getting to borrow you again. Knowing them, they’ll want to keep you,” he says, with that flirty smile again.

  I go upstairs and check in with Cindy, who tells me I have her permission to flutter around trying to find something useful to do.

  “Or, you know, you could enjoy an extra-long lunch break,” she suggests.

  “No appetite tonight,” I answer, before quickly correcting, “today, I mean. No appetite today.”

  “Did you eat last night?”

  I shrug, even though we’re on the phone. “Didn’t really get a chance to make any plans for dinner last night.”

  “Oh, honey. He’ll…”

  Not meaning to snap at her, I quickly interrupt so Cindy doesn’t start thinking it’s okay to talk relationship stuff at work. This whole thing with Magnus is between us to figure out, not for anyone else… not yet. It seems rude and disrespectful of Magnus’ current desire for us to remain low-profile, after all.

  “I just meant I didn’t have the energy to grab some takeaway,” I quickly say, in the sweetest voice I can muster at this stage. “But it’s all for the better. Maybe it’s an impromptu diet.”

  “Hah, you’re going to end up leaving me as the only one among the executive secretaries who’s still eating,” Cindy jokes lightly. “Let me tell you something, when I was in my twenties, I did all that too. Kept my figure. Let work keep me so occupied I don’t eat. Fainted at work once. Not fun. So I’m more than happy to go around eating all the food nobody else is eating, now.”

  “Have an extra large serving of whatever you’re having, on me,” I say. “Gonna go up to the International Trade department, okay? Call back in a couple of hours.”

  “Fantastic, Shaleigh. You’re doing a great job.”

  There’s just enough of a pause that I can tell she wouldn’t mind saying more — probably asking me if I’d like to be reassigned to the outer office, but I don’t want to place her in the awkward position of having to say that, so I hang up during the pause.

  I don’t have to introduce myself to the people working the desks at International Trade, because many of the managers and executives are people on the Australia deal.

  “Oh gosh, we’re the lucky ones today,” a woman in her fifties called Pauline says. “Folks, you’re about to meet the next big project manager in Boyd Industries. The famous Miss Shaleigh, herself!”

  I smile at the cheers, but it warms me up, knowing that I’m being recognized for a good job. “I’m sure you’ve got emails and stuff handled by your own people, but I’m more than happy to help you guys out with any tasks that need to be done.”

  “Can you schedule a conference call with our subsidiary in Brazil?” an executive comes up to me, with a sheet bearing names and phone extensions for the people to be on the call. “Get a time that works well for everyone, but it has to be before the big presentation at 3pm.”

  “On it, Mr Fermagi,” I say, going to the first unmanned desk I see.

  This is satisfying. More satisfying than sitting at a desk, shuffling emails and phone calls in the starkness of the inner office. It’s fun, watching people run around like headless chickens.

  As soon as I lock in a time for the call, I stand up and report that I’m done, and I’m about to canvass the floor for more chores, when Pauline lifts a phone and says, “Miss Shaleigh, it’s for you!”

  I rush over to the phone. “Hi?”

  “Shaleigh, it’s Cindy.”

  Her voice doesn’t sound so… motherly. Or friendly. In fact, she sounds positively distracted.

  “What’s up?”

  “Actually, can you come to the CEO’s office?”

  CEO. Not Magnus. What’s going on? I know better than to ask questions like that, if it means dealing with another Magnus blowout. “Is it about any particular project?” I diplomatically consider.

  “No, it’s actually… a police officer who’s here asking about you, saying you’re a person of interest in a few cases back in Georgia.”

  Upon hearing a gruff voice in the background making jokes, upon realizing what’s happened… I immediately freeze, and I drop the phone.

  Fuck. Dennis found me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When it rains, it pours.

  Dennis waits for me with such incredibly staged nonchalance that when I spot him, I almost don’t sense the malice radiating from his eyes. But as soon as he sees Cindy turn away, I see him smirk. I see him look at me the way a predator looks at prey. I can’t bear to look at the man who’s abused me, so I look past him.

  I look into the inner office, and see Frances at the desk, being dictated to by Magnus.

  But then, just as he turns a slight bit towards the door, I see him spot me.

  And I see him spot Dennis.

  “What’s this about, then?” he asks as he walks — no, strides — towards us. This is Magnus projecting power.

  Dennis isn’t in uniform, instead wearing a light blue polo over beige corduroy jeans. No badge, but he looks the part. This is entirely intentional, and I know it. He’d wear a uniform if he was here in an official capacity. The thing is, he’s not… but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to press that advantage anyway.

  “Deputy Dennis McCurdy, from the Pickens County Sheriff’s Department,” he extends a hand to Magnus, shifting the smirk he has for me to a slightly more generous smile. “I was looking for one Miss Shaleigh Williams, who’s a… person of interest in a few cases back home.”

  “It sounds to me, Deputy, like it would be in everyone’s best interests if this meeting involved lawyers. Hers and mine,” Magnus coldly counters.

  “Boss man, you don’t even know what this is about. Boyd, right? Famous Magnus Boyd the billionaire?” Dennis tries to charm my employer. “This is strictly informal. But the easier you make things go for me, the easier things will be going forward. Wouldn’t that be your preference too, Shaleigh?
Been looking for you a long while, now, after all.”

  I’m about to open my mouth and offer some sort of ill-thought rant in his direction — revealing every abuse this jackass has given me over the course of the years I was stuck with him, but Magnus instead speaks first.

  “You don’t have to answer that.”

  Dennis raises an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like you’re more interested in covering your ass, boss man. I wouldn’t think conspiracy charges look good on you. And when you make Shaleigh shut up, you make her — and you — look like you have something to hide.”

  I don’t even have to look behind me to sense the way Cindy is fuming, seeing the disrespect offered to both Magnus and me. I can let out a small sigh of relief knowing they’re standing firm, and maybe they have my back after all.

  “Charges?” Magnus says, stepping forward. Dennis is a big guy, but he can’t compare to Magnus’ top-heavy frame. The billionaire’s in a suit that enhances the upside-down triangle of his shape, the bodybuilder form that is enough to intimidate even an abusive low-life like Dennis.

  “Yeah,” I say, biting back most of my anger, “what charges are you even talking about?”

  “Grand theft,” he casually shrugs. “Heard you stole from your grandma when you left town, Shaleigh. And fraud too. You may want to follow up on that, fellas. Any resume she’s handed you is almost certainly filled with… inaccuracies. To put it lightly, that is.”

  “That’s not true at all,” I huff, blinking away tears.

  “Like I said, this is just an informal chat,” Dennis gives his shit-eating grin. As always, he can tell when my composure begins to waver. “We can have a different sort of sit-down any other time — the kind where you’re handcuffed to the desk.”

  “Horrible insinuations!” Cindy interrupts. “Mr Boyd, you have a meeting right you’re running late to. I’ll see to it that Security takes this conman of a deputy away.”

  Now Dennis laughs, swinging to face Cindy. “Watch the defamation, lady. You’re not the billionaire here — he might be able to bat away lawsuit after lawsuit, but the last thing you want is to protect someone like Shaleigh Williams and pay for the consequences.”