by KB Winters
My dad stood at the stove stirring something vigorously when I stepped up behind him to peek over his shoulder. He started at my presence and the ladle slipped from his fingers, hit the side of the pot, and then crashed to the floor, leaving a spray of marinara all over the honey colored tiles and the oak cabinets.
“Damn it! Megan!”
I immediately felt myself flush and stooped down to begin the clean up. “I’m sorry, Dad. Here, let me.”
He sighed and went to get me a stack of paper napkins from the dispenser on the kitchen bar. “It’s all right. You just startled me.”
I glanced up at him. “Are you okay?” It wasn’t like him to be so on edge, and something about his easy trigger had me worried.
He started to nod but then his face crumpled. “I was saving it for dinner, but, no. I’m not.”
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, and I stood to meet his eyes, my hand still clenched around the soiled towel covered in red sauce. “Daddy?”
He looked down at his shoes. When his eyes met mine again, he opened his mouth to answer me, but a crash in the entry way jolted both of us.
“Yo, yo!” Phillip’s voice boomed down the hall and filled the kitchen.
“Where’s the grub?” Robbie demanded, as he and Phillip entered the attached dining area and plunked down into two chairs.
I rolled my eyes, momentarily forgetting my dad and whatever news he’d been about to share. “Nice, guys. Thanks for offering to help!”
Phillip scoffed, and Robbie ignored me altogether. “Hey, we were told to be here at six for dinner. So, that’s what we’re doing.”
I crossed the room to rinse the towel in the sink while my dad turned to get a new spoon and finish warming the sauce. As I let the water heat up, I shot a sharp glance at the two lazy toads sitting at the table. “And what? You think magic fairies were going to drop a meal from the sky? For fuck’s sake.”
“Hey, Megan, why don’t you shut your mouth,” Phillip snarled.
Robbie chimed in, feeding off Phillips toxic energy. “Yeah, no one was fuckin’ talking to you anyways.”
“Enough!” My father shouted.
Phillip and Robbie both snapped to attention and sat up in their chairs a little straighter.
“This has been a hard week, and all I asked for was a nice family meal. It’s bad enough that the entire family couldn’t be here tonight, but this? This fighting and squabbling? Enough. Just, stop.”
My heart raced even faster and even though I hadn’t been the one to start the fighting, a shot of guilt ripped through me. I finished cleaning up the mess in silence, and then helped my dad get the meal to the table, doing my best to plaster a smile on my face and not assault my two smug-ass brothers as they kicked back and watched us work to serve them.
Once we were all seated, the boys dug in, barely pausing for two seconds before they had both shoveled huge bites of pasta into their mouths. My dad’s gaze slowly panned around the table, and I wanted to cry. Something bad was about to happen, and I wasn’t ready for whatever it was. My mind flew through a ton of possibilities. Was it cancer? Something with Sam, my oldest brother? I hadn’t called my grandma in a while, was she okay?
“I have something I need to talk to you guys about,” he finally said, his eyes back on me.
My heart clenched tightly in my chest, and it felt like it was hardly beating anymore. Instinctively, I reached over to take Dad’s hand. “What is it?”
Phillip and Robbie finally sensed that something was wrong and put their forks down long enough to actually pay attention to something besides themselves.
Dad cleared his throat. “I’m being—well, I’ve been—let go. From work.”
And just like that, my entire world came crashing to the ground.
An involuntary yelp escaped from my mouth, and I pressed the back of my hand to cover my lips to stifle the sobs that were bubbling up.
“Megs,” Dad said, his voice gentle. “It’s going to be all right.”
I nodded but didn’t trust myself enough to remove my hand. My lips were still trembling, and a smattering of tears made their way past my lashes and down my cheeks. In that moment, it was like every ounce of stress, worry, frustration, and fear that had built up over the past weeks rushed to the surface all at once, and I couldn’t hold any of it back for one more second.
“You’ll get another job, Pops,” Phillip said, while Robbie nodded solemnly in agreement.
My dad gave a weak smile. “I’ve already sent out my resume to as many places as I could think of, and I’m sure it won’t take long before someone comes along with the right opportunity.”
His words were confident, but his voice had a slight shake to it, and I knew he was afraid. It hurt to see my dad, my rock and pillar, falling apart before my eyes, all the while putting on his bravest face for me and the two knuckleheads I was forced to call brothers. “Do Sam and Kevin know?” I asked, once I could finally trust my voice not to crack.
“I called Sam this afternoon, and I left a message to have Kevin call me back. Sonya told me that they have him working swing shift at the restaurant these days,” he answered. Once he was finished, he lifted his fork and started to eat his—likely cold—spaghetti as though everything were normal. Phillip and Robbie gave him a confused glance, but then followed suit and started on their own plates.
My stomach clenched into a tight ball, and the thought of food made me nauseated. I sipped at my water, combating the millions of thoughts that were flying through my mind, all competing for my attention. “Daddy, I could sell the car.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the three faces around the table whipped in my direction with varying expressions of shock. “The one from Grant—Mr. Christiansen,” I added, a flicker of heat scalding my insides at the way Grant’s name sounded, echoing in the silent dining room. Or, maybe that was just my imagination.
My dad cleared his throat and dabbed a paper towel to his tomato sauce stained mouth before speaking. “Megs, I don’t want you to sell your car.”
“I want to help. You’ve always given up everything for us kids, and now it seems like I finally have something that could help you.”
His face twisted into a pained look. “I don’t need help. I’ve raised you kids all your lives and provided for you. Losing my job is a setback, to be sure—but I will find a way to get our family out of this situation. That’s not your job, Megan.”
I sighed. “We’re not kids anymore though. Dad, can’t you see that? It’s not your job to provide for us anymore. We’re old enough that we should be the ones to take care of you and provide you with the best we can give. I have the car—it’s too fancy for me anyway. But, if I sell it, we could have enough to live for six months or something, long enough for you to get back on your feet.”
My dad’s face turned red, and he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “Enough, Megan. I don’t need—or want—you to do that. Ever since you were born, I’ve done this on my own. I never took charity from strangers and I’m certainly not going to take it from my own daughter.”
“But Daddy—”
Before I could rally another attempt at an argument, he pounded his fists on the table loud enough that both Phillip and Robbie jolted in their seats. “Enough! Megan. That’s enough. End of story.”
A new wave of tears slid down my cheeks that were hot with frustration and embarrassment. “Excuse me.” I jumped out of my seat, abandoning my full plate of food, and ran for the front door, pausing to grab my vintage green army jacket off the coat rack before running outside. I ran halfway down the street, just long enough to feel the burn in my legs and my lungs before I stopped to think about my next move. I slowed my pace and walked back to the house, catching my breath, and trying to clear my mind.
I glanced over at the shiny black car parked in the drive and was hit with a fresh bout of nausea. I doubled over and rested my palms on my knees, breathless all over again—and this time, it wasn’t from the sprint down the
street. My heart thumped frantically inside my chest, and although I hadn’t had one before, I was fairly certain I was going through the beginning phases of a panic attack. I couldn’t stop crying, and my breaths came in short, gasping sobs that racked my whole body.
“Megs?”
I jolted upright at the sound of my name and saw Sam, crossing the street. I’d been so lost in my own hurricane of emotion that I hadn’t noticed his car pull up on the opposite side of the road. Without a word, I raced to him and collapsed into his arms.
He held me for a moment, letting me cry against his shirt. We had never been a very affectionate family, but when it came to a crisis, Sam always had a way of comforting me and didn’t mind giving his baby sister a hug. “I take it that Dad already told you?”
I nodded against his chest.
“It’s gonna be all right, sis. Dad’s good at what he does, he’ll get scooped up.”
I took a step back and nodded again as I wiped away the stray tears from my cheeks. My fingers were slick with the remnants of my thick black eyeliner and I was sure I looked like a train wreck. “I know. It’s not so much that, I guess. It’s everything else.”
Sam considered me. I hadn’t seen him in a few months. He lived in San Diego with his family, and although it was only a few hours away, he was always busy with his two little daughters and his very busy job.
“What are you doing here anyways?” I asked, starting to relax a little bit.
“Stacy told me I needed to come see Dad and you guys, see what I can do to help.” Sam shrugged. “She went all Mama Bear on me and insisted I take some family time. You know how she can be.”
I laughed. Stacy was a firecracker for sure—but in the best possible way. She adored Sam and was the best mom to their baby girls. “Well I’m glad you’re here. I need a friendly face, that’s for sure.”
“What’s going on baby sis?” Sam wrapped an arm around me. “You wanna go inside?”
I shook my head, a little too violently and Sam looked confused. I spilled everything that had been going on, with school, the internship, Robbie and Phillip, and the conversation over dinner. The only bit I left out was Grant, other than to mention the car that he’d given me.
“You got this as a bonus? Like, they just handed over the keys and said, job well done?” Sam marveled, circling the car in the driveway.
I folded my arms. “Yeah.”
He let out a low whistle. “This is a sixty thousand dollar ride, Megs. Did you know that?”
I nodded, having looked up the value online not too long after getting it.
Sam looked up at me, his eyes full of stars. “And you quit this job? The job that gives new employees luxury cars?”
I laughed. “I know, it sounds insane. It’s complicated. Right now, I need to focus on school. You know how it is. It’s crunch time, and I can’t afford to mess anything up and spend another year at this. I’ll lose my mind if I don’t get that hot little degree in my hands soon.”
Sam laughed along and nodded. “Yeah, I remember those days. God, seems like it was a million years ago. Now, I’ve got Stace and the girls.” He whistled again and shook his head. His eyes were more distant and I felt like I was intruding on a private moment of reflection as he mentally wandered through some of his most treasured memories.
I ran my fingertips along the side of the car, letting my own memories swallow me up for a moment. Waking up in Grant’s bed, after the passionate, hot night together. The look on Grant’s face when he handed me the keys. The promise of the night that never happened. Sitting alone in a coffee shop typing out a resignation, and essentially a goodbye letter, on the tiny keyboard of my phone, knowing that as soon as I hit send it would all be over and I would be flung back into my reality and far away from the glamorous promise of Grant and his elusive world. And then, hitting send anyways…
“Megs?”
I looked up, shoving Grant back to the corner of my mind he’d been residing in since our chance meeting on the afternoon of the symposium. Sam was looking across the hood at me, clearly waiting for the answer to a question I hadn’t heard. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if you wanted to come stay with me and the fam.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t commute to school and my internship. Thank you though.” I was truly touched by his gesture and reminded that this is how family was supposed to be. You were supposed to be able to help one another. In light of his sweet offer, Dad’s reaction to my gesture to help made even less sense.
“All right. Well, the offer stands, if you change your mind or just need a break.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
He came around and gave me another quick hug. “I’m gonna go in and see what I can do to help diffuse this thing. You wanna go with?”
I turned and looked at the front door and then back at Sam, shaking my head. “No. I think I’ll go for a drive.”
“All right. Well, call me, okay?”
I agreed and we said goodbye, Sam headed up to the door as I got behind the wheel. I didn’t know where I was heading, but I knew that I couldn’t stay at the house for one more minute. My dad would likely play nice with Sam, not wanting to alienate his oldest son, who in his opinion, was already too far away. I pulled out of the drive and headed downtown with the windows down, letting the chilly evening air blow inside—the sound of the wind distracting my mind.
At least for a little while.
Chapter Three — Grant
Monday morning came in with a crash. After the crazy scene at the banquet, I laid low for the remainder of the weekend, nursing a hangover and tried to sleep away the horror of the whole mess. When my alarm went off at half past four on Monday morning, I was not prepared, but I got up and went about my normal routine. Having a schedule and pattern was more for my own sanity than anything else. But even the soothing rhythm of my morning workout, breakfast, and drive to work in the crisp dawn air, wasn’t enough to prepare me for the avalanche of shit that rained down shortly after I’d arrived at the office. By lunch time, I was drained and reaching for the bottle of emergency scotch locked away in the safe that comprised the bottom drawer of my desk.
News of manufacturing delays, shipment snags, and buyers that were arguing over the pricing structure made it feel like amateur hour. All of the department managers were freaking the fuck out, and it was ironic how fast the victorious air of the Shock Watches banquet, just two days before, had evaporated into a cloud of panic and fear. I doled out instructions as quickly as possible, putting out fire after fire, before I’d retreated to my office to clear my head of all the chaos. Timeless Timepieces had been in business for nearly a hundred years and yet, in the twenty-first century, with all the advancements and new technology, it could feel more complicated than ever before.
I shut off my phone extension and poured myself a finger of the amber liquid. My head pounded out a steady, pulsing pain that started at the temple and wrapped around the left side of my skull, lodging in a mess of knotted muscles at the base of my neck. I sipped the premium alcohol and let the burn take the edge off the ache. What I needed was a proper meal and an afternoon massage.
With Megan.
“Shit,” I cursed at myself, shaking my head for a moment, then instantly regretting the jarring movement.
I set my tumbler on the desk and rubbed my thumbs into my temples and then the back of my neck. It was bad enough that my obsession with her had wrecked a perfectly good fuck with the blonde from the banquet. But compounded on top of that failure, was the way my mind refused to let her go long after I got home. She was in my thoughts from the time I opened my eyes, to the moment I crashed into bed. Even then, she encompassed my dreams.
The memory of her haunting eyes, her raven black hair, her full lips deep and dark with maroon lipstick, and the silky smooth porcelain skin refused to let me go. She followed me around all day and night, no matter what I was doing or who I was with. I’d never understood the cheesy, lovesick ballads of
heartbreak, but after finding—and then losing—Megan, I was starting to find it easier to relate.
Damn, this was getting pathetic.
I took a bigger gulp from my drink and polished off the last smooth drops. The bottle was still out, sitting on the desk looking back at me, and for a long moment I considered a second round.
“Mr. Christiansen?” Cara’s soft voice cut through my deliberating, and I looked up to see her cautiously entering my office. Her eyes went to the bottle and I swept it off the table and back into the desk drawer where it belonged. Cara wasn’t the type to judge, if anything, she would understand, but I didn’t need her thinking I was cracking under the pressure of everything. It was my job—my duty—to be confident, polished, and assert calm leadership in the face of whatever trials came my way.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she continued, taking another few tentative steps.
My eyes searched her face and immediately, my heart sank low in my chest. “What’s wrong?”
She looked guilty and broke away her eye contact for a moment, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “It’s—well, the marketing team is here to see you.”
“The entire team?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her honey colored eyes met mine again and she visibly swallowed. “I told them you’re busy, but they’re demanding to see you. They say it’s urgent.”
The sudden pit in my stomach twisted and a silent understanding passed between Cara and I. Something was wrong, drastically wrong. “Send them in.”
She nodded before wordlessly turning away to leave the office. Her face said that she knew more than what she was actually putting into words, and I almost stopped her to ask what was going on, but she slipped out before I could decide if I wanted to put her in that position. The silence engulfed me for a moment, as my mind worked through the possibilities. I smoothed my tie and stood up to prepare myself for whatever was about to happen. Minutes later, the door swung back open and Marcy, Robert, Cary, and Linda filed in.
