Tell Me How You Feel - II
1267 Words
She glared up at him and he found himself once again admiring her strength as her jaw tightened. Her light brown hair was still impeccable in its high ponytail without a strand out of place and he realized it matched her demeanor. Despite everything going on, she was collected. Her eyes hinted at the slightest bit of sadness, likely over the b***h of a best friend but otherwise, she was stoic. He appreciated it.
“I might come from Coldreach, Colorado, population eighteen hundred and twenty-six but I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday. Once my trust is broken, it’s broken. My friendship with Hazel, much like the duvet covers on the floor, is stained, and tainted and will never be allowed to be near me again.”
He dug into his pocket and put a wrapped candy on the nightstand. “Something sweet for later in case you’re finding yourself crying bitter tears.” He always kept candy on him. He did run an international confectionary company after all.
She looked at the wrapped caramel candy and a little smile tugged her lips. “Thanks.”
“I’m leaving. Will you be, okay? Do you have someone you want to call?” Suddenly he worried about leaving her alone. Surely like most women she was probably going to fall apart the minute his back was turned.
“I’m fine. Like I said. I have my bottle of wine. I also want to call a locksmith n case she has more than one set of keys and then I simply want to go to bed. It’s been a long week.”
Her complaint about the long week reminded him of her prick comment. “If you could change one part of this week, what would it be?” He waved around the room, “Aside from the obvious.”
“Truth?”
“Yes.”
“The way you made Miss Samantha cry at the chocolate factory in Ohio on Tuesday.”
“She spilled her coffee all over me.”
“You called her an insipid airhead who needs to learn to walk before attempting to do two things at once. It took me twenty minutes to get her to stop crying in the bathroom.”
“She burned my d**k with her coffee. You didn’t see it because it would have been inappropriate to show you but when I got into the bathroom and dropped everything, it was f*****g cherry red. I swear she boiled the water twice to make the coffee before she dumped it on me. It really f*****g hurt.”
“Not as bad as a broken d**k hurts,” her lips twisted. “I bet that hurts more. You owe the secretary and apology for her mistake.”
He found himself strangely trying not to laugh as she made less of his own trauma. “I will send her an apology note and a new coffee mug to replace the one she broke. Would that make it better for you?”
“Yes.”
“Consider it done. I will give you the weekend off as I said but don’t waste it wallowing.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he sighed. “I need to get moving.”
“Thanks again for being here and having Barrett remove them.”
“No need to thank me.”
He left her sitting there on the side of her bed and exited her condo. Moving to the elevator he got into the thing and hated everywhere he went nowadays there were cameras. He’d love to simply leave but there were rules when people were watching.
Once he was in his car, he lifted his phone to his ear, “what?”
“Is this any way to talk to your father?”
“I was busy.”
“With a girl? Who is she? What does she look like?” his mother’s voice came onto the phone. Her joyous tone could melt the coldest of hearts and he felt his own thaw a bit.
“Mom,” he groaned, “I was with my assistant. She forgot her laptop bag in the car, and I took it up to her condo to find her dealing with her boyfriend and best friend fu –” he caught himself. He would never swear in front of his mother, “fooling around in her bed. I stayed until they left.”
“Why can’t you find a nice girl and get married? Is your assistant pretty?”
“Stunning,” he didn’t lie. Unlike his receptionist he’d noticed Grier Bush years ago when she was working in his financial department, but he wasn’t one to mix business with pleasure. “Hair the color of spun molasses, eyes like burnt caramel and lips redder than a cherry ice pop.”
“But?”
“She is my assistant, and HR tends to frown over things like chasing subordinates around a desk. She’s also a damn good assistant and I need her to not quit.”
“But she’s single and you’re single.”
“Mom. This isn’t like when you were young, and these things were socially acceptable. I could get sued if I sexually coerced her.”
“Do you like her?”
“I admire her strength.”
“Why?”
This coming from his father.
“She doesn’t ever back down. She holds steady even in the most demanding situations. She even,” he gave a laugh at the memory, “called me a prick right to my face.”
“Such an awful word!” his mother exclaimed.
“I deserved it. I’ve had a rough week and as my assistant, I believe hers was rougher as she smoothed some ruffled feathers on my behalf.”
“You always get so bent out of shape this time of year. Come home. We can get someone else to take over and you can work with your father and –”
“Mom. Enough. I agreed to work for the company and I’m doing it. There is no need for me to retire any time soon to come work with Dad. He’s got decades left in him to run things there.”
“We miss you. You’ll be here Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“It sure would be nice if you brought a girl home.”
He gave a bark of laughter at the comment, “imagine that.”
“What about your secretary?”
“Assistant, Mom, and I think the last thing we would need at home is someone even more cynical than I am bringing down the merriment of the holiday.” He inhaled sharply, “I’m almost home so I’m going to hang up now. Give my love to the girls.”
“Son, one more thing,” his father spoke up.
“What is it?”
“I know you don’t like it when I tell you when this happens, but I have a feeling for you right now. Something big is about to happen to you.”
“Dad, save the mumbo jumbo. I don’t want to hear it. If you tell me how my life is going to play out, where is the joy in actually living it?”
“But you don’t do anything to find the joy anymore, Nick. Do me a favor? Find the joy?”
He ended the call without another word. Sometimes his old man was too much.
- Writer
