by Whitney G.
“I’ll do you one even better,” I said, standing to my feet. My blood was now boiling upon hearing her “fortune,” because I knew it was true. I also knew that the only way I could put an end to this and let the board know that I was in charge, was to take immediate, mass action.
I walked to the top deck of the ship and stood near the high rails. “May I have everyone’s attention, please?” I spoke into the captain’s mic. “It’s come to my attention that all forty of the directors aboard have decided not to do what I asked and have sided with the board, so—” I paused, shrugging. “You’re all fired.”
“What?” “Are you effin serious?” “He has to be joking.”
They all stared at me, their faces a mix of shock, anger, and confusion.
“You’re more than welcome to spend the night in one of my guest rooms or lounges,” I said. “I purposely selected this superyacht because it can comfortably sleep fifty and the entertainment amenities are second to none. Has anyone tried the bowling alley on the third deck?”
No one answered.
“It’s pretty nice,” I said, smiling. “Eight lanes and glow in the dark balls.”
“Mr. Holmes...” Glinda was standing in front of me again, her face even redder than before. “With all due respect, since you’ve now fired everyone and we’re in the middle of the goddamn ocean, will we be heading to shore anytime soon?”
“I doubt it. I think I’m going to have the captain sail around until at least midnight.”
“So, how the hell do we all get off the ship?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Call the Coast Guard. Or since you have to run everything you do by the board, pick up your phone and call them.”
(of) me & you
Sean
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA how the shareholders are going to react once they find out what the hell you’ve done?”
“I swear on everything I own that I will do everything in my power to ruin you in the press if you do not hire back all forty of our executives by midnight!”
“You can’t make decisions like this without consulting YOUR BOARD first! But since you’re so damn smart, who is left to come to work tomorrow? How the hell are you going to run your business without―”
I deleted another board member’s voicemail. His words were some of the nicest ones I’d received so far, but I wasn’t backing down from my decision.
I was one of a few people who actually believed in the concept of loyalty, and I had no desire to deal with two-faced traitors. I also didn’t believe in staying in relationships past their expiration date, so I was going to end this weekend with a full disassociation from another person I no longer wanted in my life.
Turning my phone on silent, I pulled into the drive at The Chateau and waited for the valet to approach my car.
“Welcome back, Mr. Holmes,” he said as he opened my door. “Your guest is waiting for you at table seven, sir. She’s ordered your usual and the staff is waiting to serve it.”
“Thank you.” I looked over my shoulder, making sure I’d lost the overzealous photographer who’d trailed me for the past half hour before heading inside.
Near the panoramic windows that faced the waters of the Puget Sound, was the woman I’d dated for the past eight months. A high-profile literary agent, she was still stunning as ever with red curls that framed her heart-shaped face.
Her brown eyes met mine as I approached the table.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
“Hello, Sean.” She sat up a bit. “Is there any reason why you wanted me to meet you here instead of picking me up like usual?”
“Plenty of reasons.” I took a seat and refrained from saying anything further as the waitress filled our wine glasses.
“Well, whatever those reasons are, I’m just glad you didn’t ask me to join you at another symphony.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy listening to a bunch of strings squawking and screeching. That’s not real music.”
I picked up my glass and noticed that the waitress had scrawled a note onto my napkin.
Call me :)
I’m willing to be your sidepiece ...
555-3612
“I MEAN, WOULD IT KILL the orchestra to play some radio hits every now and then?” Evelyn was still talking. “A few of the violinists could even set down their instruments and sing along from time to time, too.”
“I’ll put that in the suggestion box,” I said, as the waiters set down the first course.
“I love this place so much.” She smiled at me. “Aren’t you going to ask for extra salt like usual before we eat?”
“I don’t think so.” My plan to be cordial for at least an hour was now gone. I couldn’t fake this for another second. “I know about you and John Silverton, my ex CFO. Of course, I’m sure he told you he resigned, but you should know that I fired him once I found out about the two of you.”
She dropped her fork to her plate. Her jaw fell wide open.
“If it’s any consolation,” I said. “I was planning to fire him next month, but as you know, I can be quite petty.”
“What?” She looked genuinely confused. “What are you saying, Sean?”
“I’m saying that after this dinner, we’re no longer together and you’re free to continue fucking John Silverton. Although, I’m sure it won’t be as exciting since the thrill of doing it behind my back won’t be there anymore.”
Her face paled and she sucked in a breath. She looked around the room as if she were weighing the pros and cons of making a scene.
“Your dinner is getting cold,” I said, bringing a small roll to my mouth. “Now that John is unemployed, I doubt he can afford to bring you to places like this. If I were you, I’d try to savor this memory for as long as you can.”
“Fuck you, Sean.” She hissed, leaning forward. “If you think for one second that you’re going to dump me in a public place based off some assumptions―”
“I saw you leave his place six weeks ago.” I interrupted her. “I looked through your phone last month and saw that whenever you claimed you were having a ‘day at the spa,’ you were really sleeping with him.” I took my time buttering another roll. “I know we haven’t known each other that long in the grand scheme of things, but I’ve never been much of a sharer.”
Her face was now as red as the grilled tomatoes on her plate, and her eyes were slits.
“Pardon my interruption.” A waiter stepped in front of the table. “Is there anything else you’d like me to serve with this course?”
“My salad doesn’t have enough eggs in it,” I said. “Then again, from the looks of things, maybe they’ve all jumped on my date’s face.”
He looked between us and slowly backed away. “I trust that our breakup won’t be leaked to the press tonight,” I said. “Next week, I’ll release a nice statement, though. One of those, ‘we’ve decided to remain friends and work on our careers’ type things. No one needs to know that on the same day that you were eating dinner with me, you were sleeping with someone else in the afternoon.”
She glared at me and picked up her wine glass. Then she chugged it down.
“Is that a ‘no’ to the statement?” I asked. “Am I leaving out a line?”
“I really liked you, Sean.”
“I’m glad you’re accepting this, you’re referring to us in the past tense already.”
“You didn’t make it easy.” She looked into my eyes. “You were emotionally unavailable for the first three months.”
“And yet, you stuck around for five more ...”
“I’d never dated a billionaire before.” She looked somewhat genuine. “You were my first.”
“And probably your last.”
“I can only take half the blame for cheating on you, though.” She looked like she was about to cry, giving me that cue I needed to get the hell out of here. “I honestly didn’t mean to.”
I signaled for the check, and a waiter set it on our table in seconds
.
“I’ll email you the statement before I send it to the press,” I said, signing the receipt. “I’ll give you an hour to make suggestions that I probably won’t consider.”
She didn’t say a word.
“Well, the past eight months have been nice―” I paused, I couldn’t even lie. “No, they haven’t been.” I stood up and adjusted my jacket. “Tell John I said, ‘Hello’.”
I walked out of the dining room and into the hallway. I pressed the down button for the elevator and heard Evelyn yelling from afar.
“Sean! Sean!”
I hit the down button again.
“Sean!” Her voice was nearer now. “Sean, I know you can hear me calling your name!”
“I don’t answer to the past.”
“Don’t force me to make a scene, Sean.”
“I think it’s too late for that.” Where the hell is this elevator?
“This breakup isn’t really about me, is it?”
“No.” I refused to play a role in her drama. “It’s more about you fucking someone else behind my back.”
“So, this has nothing to do with Kate?”
“What?” I finally turned around, making note of how many people were around us. How many NDAs I was going to insist that my executive assistant rush over and force people to sign. “I’ve never mentioned Kate to you.”
“You’ve never had to.” She stepped closer, letting mascara run down her cheeks. “For the first three months of our relationship―the months when you were the most unavailable, you said her name in your sleep. At least three times a week.”
“That’s quite a story.”
“You’d wake up in the middle of the night and talk about her meeting you at a lake, sitting in the back row of some recital, or taking some long ride to some place called The Salted Shores Fair,” she said. “Took me long enough to realize that you weren’t talking about us, or me. You were talking about her.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.”
“We both know that I’m not.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You want to know something else?”
“I’d rather know why the elevator has yet to come.”
“Whoever this ‘Kate’ person is, clearly still has a hold on you.” She was crying now, her chest heaving up and down. “She’s probably the reason why you’re so distant, why I had to go and sleep with someone else because I wasn’t getting enough from you.”
“So, Kate told you to fuck John?” I crossed my arms. “Did you two have this conversation over text messages or on the phone?”
“I used to think that there was something wrong with all the other women you dated. I wondered why they never lasted since you’re such a great catch.” She wiped away a few tears. “But the problem isn’t them at all... It’s you and your failure to see that some cunt you dated however long ago is completely over you, so you should move on and do the same before you end up dying alone.”
The elevator doors finally opened, relieving me from her unwanted spiel.
“I’ll send you a check for this therapy session,” I said, stepping onto the car and quickly pressing the ‘door close’ button. “Thank you for the chat.”
The doors closed before she could get another word out, and I pulled out my phone to send an email.
SUBJECT: NDAS AT THE Chateau and Revoking Security for an Ex
Shannon,
I need this handled within the hour. Also, please send a check to Evelyn in the amount of $250.00. Memo: Therapy time.
Sean Holmes
CEO, Pier Autumn Coffee
I REFRESHED MY INBOX, awaiting her usual “Got it.”
As I stepped off the elevator and headed to valet, I tried not to think about Evelyn’s parting words. Tried to see if there was a hint of truth in any of them.
Nope ...
I was long over Kate. She no longer haunted my dreams with her laughter, no longer invaded my thoughts with her broken promises, and no longer caused me to wake up in the middle of the night wondering where the hell she was.
I stopped comparing every woman I dated to her years ago, and moved on with my life. In fact, I’d finally accepted that we were just young and dumb back then, and that she clearly preferred being with someone who was second best.
I retrieved my car from the valet and sped home to my penthouse condo, making sure to tell the doorman that Evelyn was no longer welcome. The moment I stepped inside, I cracked open a beer and walked onto my expansive terrace.
From where I was standing, I could see all of the things that lured millions of tourists here year after year—Lake Union’s waters, the soft night lights of the city, and of course, The Space Needle.
Below, on one of the smaller (much smaller) balconies, a group of college kids were dancing against the glass railing. They were posing for pictures in superhero and cartoon costumes.
I watched for several minutes as Snow White pretended to give Darth Vader a blow job. Pinocchio then decided to make it a ‘threesome’, but Spiderman thought there was room for four.
What the hell am I watching?
I shook my head as I heard the sound of Shannon’s signature ringtone.
“Yes?” I answered my phone.
“I’ve sent an intern to handle the NDAs and I’ve revoked Evelyn’s access to every building on campus.”
“This couldn’t be said in an email?”
“I sent you one for your records,” she said. “I’m calling because it’s that time of year for me to tell you, Throw it away. Once and for all.”
“Throw what away?”
“Um...” The sound of papers shuffling was in the background. “The memo says throw away that blue and white Kate box.”
I dropped my beer to the ground, instantly shattering the glass to pieces.
“Just so you know, this is like the fifth year in a row that this reminder has popped up for me,” she said. “You still have yet to confirm that you’ve done it. Will this October thirty-first be the time you finally follow through?”
I didn’t say anything. My mind was too busy spinning, processing my recent thoughts against the truth.
“You ever going to tell me who Kate is or why this date is relevant?” There was a smile in her voice. “I mean, now that I think about it, you may have this day confused with something else, you know? It’s just Halloween.”
“Thank you, Shannon. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” I ended the call, and stepped back inside my condo.
Sliding the balcony door shut, I stared at the massive glass bookshelf on the far side of my wall. I walked over to it and opened the bottom left drawer. Hesitating, I pushed aside a few mementos from my life as ‘James’—old watches, a stuffed cello, and pictures, and saw the ‘Kate box’.
It wasn’t really blue and white as Shannon’s memo said. It was a simple cardboard box and it was full of painful reminders that I could still remember like it was yesterday. Our pictures, our postcards, our memories. All ruined by her broken promise, her betrayal.
“I’ll wait for you, James. No matter how long it takes...”
I rolled my eyes at her lies and picked up the box. I carried it across the condo and into the kitchen, finally throwing it deep into the trash where it belonged.
There. It was official. Kate no longer had an effect on me.
I helped myself to a few more beers, read through more annoying emails, sent a few “You’re fired” messages to some people I no longer liked, and then I made it to my bed.
I managed to sleep for about four hours before I woke up and returned to the kitchen. I took the Kate box out of the trash and returned it to the bottom of its drawer.
“It’s not just Halloween...” I said to myself, sighing. “It’s the night we first met.”
...
Kate
~ October 31, 2008 ~
“AND ONE ... TWO ... one, two, three, four ...”
I drew my bow against the strings of a cello, letting out a deep breath as the first n
ote of Mozart’s Lacrimosa reverberated through the concert hall.
As the conductor moved his hands, the notes flew from my strings and into the air―suspending me in a different reality. In that version of my life, I hadn’t just caught my best friend since childhood fucking my boyfriend days before my recital, I actually liked my parents, and I only played music when I felt like it. There were no fake friends who consistently lied to me, no inheritance being held over my head whenever I “stepped out of line,” and most of all, there was absolute freedom.
As I neared the coda and watched the notes on the page come to an end, the real world slowly returned, and the dream of a different life disappeared. The lights in the amphitheater brightened, and a roaring round of applause filled the room.
“Encore! Encore!” calls came from the balcony and the house seats, and within seconds, the cheers transitioned into a standing ovation.
I stood to my feet and took a bow, wishing I could feel proud of this moment―like this was actually my dream. Like being known as one of the country’s most talented cellists was an honor. Yet, after fifteen years of grueling training under the best teachers, all I felt was hatred and obligation.
“Isn’t Miss Kensington an amazing talent?” The director smiled and motioned for me to exit the stage once he took the mic. “We’re beyond honored to have her here with us this evening.”
I walked backstage, keeping my fake smile intact as I strolled over to my parents.
“Wonderful, darling. Just wonderful,” my mother said, handing me a bouquet of white roses.
“That’s the best I’ve ever heard you play.” My father smiled. “And trust me, that’s saying something. You’re starting to outdo yourself every time, becoming a young phenom in the making.”
“Nah, you were way better last week.” My younger sister, Sarah Kay, smiled. “Just my opinion, though. I heard two off notes.”