Tangled up in Hate

by Charlotte Byrd

  Against my better judgement, I do what he says.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “Shut the door.”

  “My car is right over there.”

  “We’re just going to drive around the block. We need to talk.”

  There aren’t many legitimate businessmen who conduct their activities in the back of a town car. Knowing this, I shut the door and turn toward him.

  “I am aware of your discretion with your staff at Minetta,” he says, with a little smile on his face. “I really appreciate you keeping the details of our negotiation private.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t think they needed to know about any of that.”

  “They didn’t. But it shows me a lot that you also realized that. You’d be surprised by how people act in your situation.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “So, you’ve done something like that before? Stolen someone else’s company right from under their nose?”

  “Stolen?! C’mon now.” Andrew laughs. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “What else would you call it?”

  “I’d say if anyone got away with something that they didn’t deserve it would be. you, my friend.”

  Andrew Lindell is one of those people who tends to rely on terms of endearment as expressions of power.

  “How’s that?” I ask.

  “I paid you a lot more for your company than it was worth, remember?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, how could I forget?”

  Andrew leans in closer to me and gives me a little wink.

  “Okay, let’s be serious now. I like you. A lot. I always liked you. I knew that you were going to go far even back then when I first gave you that money. When you had nothing.”

  “I am in no mood for listening to empty compliments, Andrew. Excuse me, sir, can you please take me back to where you picked me up,” I say to the driver. He doesn’t respond until Andrew gives him a nod.

  “If you don’t want to be friendly, I’ll respect that,” Andrew says confidently. “But I did come here to talk to you about something important.”

  “What?”

  “My sources tell me that you are thinking of resigning as CEO?”

  I shrug. “Yeah, so what?”

  “That was not part of the deal, Jackson.”

  “What are you talking about? I own less than twenty percent of the company.”

  “Be that as it may, you will continue to stay on as its head.”

  “You’re not going to let me quit my job?”

  “It is very important that everything continues at Minetta as it was when you were the owner. We don’t see a reason to create any waves or unnecessary drama.”

  “But I don’t want to keep working there.”

  “That, frankly, doesn’t really matter. You will continue in your position…indefinitely.”

  I laugh and reach for the door. How could he say that? I mean, he can’t just keep me employed in a job I don’t want to have or need to have.

  Andrew puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “You will continue in your position as CEO of Minetta Media for as long as I say.” His words are slow and deliberate. “Otherwise, I will fire every single person there and replace them with my own people.”

  My heart sinks. I turn around to face him. I meet his dead eyes straight on and wait.

  “I know that you do not want that to happen,” he says, this time with a smile at the corner of his lips. “So why don’t you just make it easier on everyone and stay on in your current position? You will, of course, be handsomely compensated.”

  28

  Harley

  When I see him…

  “Who is that?” I ask, walking up to the monitor near the front door.

  Someone has been ringing the doorbell non-stop.

  We rarely get any unannounced visitors, let alone ones that are that insistent.

  For a moment, I think that it's Julie and she just forgot her keys.

  But the expression on Martin’s face tells me that it’s probably not.

  I walk over to the camera and stare at his face. Jackson is looking up at me, his eyes are pleading.

  “Harley, let me in,” he says. “Please.”

  His words startle me.

  A moment ago, I was safe in my home. I have cooped myself away from him and all the pain that he has caused me.

  And now, suddenly, he has invaded my space.

  He’s not here, yet he is. With only a few words, my whole being yearns for him again.

  “I don’t want him here,” I say to Martin and turn to walk away. But the problem is that I only turn in my mind.

  My body remains fixed in place, staring at him.

  It’s as if those piercing eyes have put a spell on me.

  I can’t make myself move an inch.

  “Are you sure?” Martin second-guesses me. I know that he’s doing it because I can’t pull myself away from the screen, but it irks me nevertheless.

  “I don’t want him here,” I say sternly.

  This time the words come out with a lot more determination and confidence. This time, I bring myself to look away from him and finally walk away.

  He calls again and again until Martin puts the buzzer on silent. He sits down next to me on the couch.

  He’s a stranger that I have been forced to get to know over the last bit of time and I wish that it were Julie sitting next to me instead of her boyfriend.

  “Are you okay?” he asks after a moment. I shrug.

  “I am here if you want to talk.”

  I shrug again. “Isn’t that a bit outside of your job description?”

  “Not really.” He shakes his head.

  I furrow my brow.

  “I’m in the protection business and at first, I’m here just to protect your physical body. But being in close quarters with someone changes things after a while. And many of my clients feel comfortable opening up to me about other matters as well.”

  “Well, that’s not going to be me,” I say categorically.

  “That’s fine,” he says, giving me permission to stay quiet as if I needed it.

  I roll my eyes.

  Martin is trying to be helpful and I know that I am misdirecting my anger by pointing at him, but unfortunately, he’s the only one around. Jackson isn’t here.

  “Just so you know, I have a Master’s degree in Psychology and Counseling. I’m a therapist, a professional listener. So, you can tell me anything you want at any time and I will be here for you.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, taken a little aback by the news.

  “Well, whatever you tell me, I will keep entirely to myself. So, you don’t have to worry about anything getting back to Julie, or Jackson, or anyone. I take my oath as a therapist very seriously.”

  I sit back into the cushions of the couch and let them form a cocoon around me.

  “So, why are you doing this?” I ask.

  “It’s a really good job. I got my counseling degree about a year ago and I’ve been a bodyguard for much longer than that. The main reason I even pursued it is because many of my clients would reach out to me and talk to me about their problems throughout the process and I wanted to figure out a better way to help them.”

  “What was the most important thing that you learned?”

  “To listen,” he says without missing a beat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When my clients would talk to me before, I would try to immediately solve their problem. I would immediately make suggestions about what they should or shouldn’t do to make things better in their life. But going through school, I realized that what makes someone a good therapist or a bad therapist is their ability to listen. I make suggestions sometimes, yes, but that’s not the point. The point is to listen and ask questions that will lead my clients to make the best decisions for themselves. Because, the thing is that there is no right or wrong way to do things. It’s all about what is right or wrong f
or you in this particular situation.”

  I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.

  Martin leans back in the couch and just relaxes. If he is waiting for me to say something, he doesn’t let on.

  He doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable about it. He doesn’t push me to speak. Instead, we sit in a comfortable silence for a bit until my phone beeps. I look at the screen.

  It’s a call from Jackson.

  I don’t even bother to press the ignore button, instead I just let it ring until it stops. Then a text arrives.

  * * *

  Harley, please call me back. I really need to speak with you. I’m so sorry about everything.

  * * *

  It’s followed by another.

  * * *

  I have a lot to explain. Please let me talk to you. I love you.

  * * *

  “What do you think I should do?” I ask, handing him my phone. Martin gives me a smile.

  “Is that a challenge?” he asks.

  I guess it kind of came out that way, but it’s not really. The truth is that I don’t really know what to do.

  “Why don’t we start like this, instead?” he says. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking right now?”

  I take a deep breath. That’s a much harder place to start. I’d rather hear his answer, but I know that he’s not going to give one.

  29

  Harley

  When we talk…

  Martin asks me what I’m thinking right now and I try to focus all of the emotions that I’m feeling into words.

  Blood pulses through my head, pounding hard in between my temples.

  Tears tingle at the inside of my eyes and feel like they are only a breath away.

  My chest seizes up, making it painful to take in air.

  “Angry,” I finally say. “I feel angry.”

  He nods. I want to say something else, but nothing else comes out.

  “Good, keep going,” he urges me.

  “I don’t know what else to say,” I say, shaking my head.

  “You said you feel angry. What are you angry about?”

  “You know.” I grit my teeth.

  “I know the general circumstances, but not…the details.”

  “You want me to just lay them out for you?”

  He nods.

  I want to fight him. I want to say that I don’t want to tell him a word, but that wouldn’t be true.

  In reality, I’m glad that he’s pushing me to talk. I have been bottling this up enough as it is.

  “I’m just…mad. Mad as hell.”

  He nods without saying a word. Just waits.

  “Who does he think he is? I mean, how could he just break up with me like that? Without so much as an explanation? I deserve a lot better.”

  Somewhere from the corner of my eye I see him nodding again.

  But his encouragement is no longer important.

  The words are steam rolling out of me.

  I open my mouth and every shitty thing that I have felt ever since he dumped me comes rolling out.

  “The thing that I’m most mad about though is that I was such an idiot. I mean, I have always been very cautious about relationships. But when it came to Jackson…I let my guard down. And now, look at me! He left me and I’m pregnant and alone. I still have that stalker after me. I’m living in a studio apartment with a girl who is getting really sick of my shit and whose boyfriend is my bodyguard, and now I guess, technically my therapist.”

  “Let’s go back, for just a moment,” Martin says. “I saw the texts that Jackson sent. Why didn’t you let him back in?”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I say categorically. “I’m not one of those women, you know. One of those women who men can just dump and walk away from then come back to. No, I’m not the forgiving kind.”

  “What about the pregnancy?”

  “What about that?”

  “Have you made a decision?”

  I take a deep breath. I look up at him. Our eyes meet and I dart mine away. I don’t dare hold his gaze for long.

  “No, I haven’t,” I say slowly.

  “Do you think that might have been one of the reasons why you didn’t want to let Jackson in here?”

  I look down at my stomach. “It’s not like it’s very visible that I’m pregnant, right?”

  “No, not at all.” Martin smiles. “I am just thinking that it might have something to do with the guilt.”

  I look down at the floor.

  He’s right.

  Of course, he’s right.

  I do feel guilty. I am guilty. I know that this is not a decision that I should be making alone.

  Jackson is the father and he needs to know. But the pain that he has caused me…it’s just too much to bear.

  And what if he doesn’t want me to keep it?

  Or what if he does?

  Both options send shivers down my arms.

  The truth is that I don’t know how I feel about this and I’m afraid that if I were to tell him then I will let his opinion of the situation sway me.

  “I just need more time.”

  “More time for what?” Martin asks.

  “I need more time to figure out what I should do.”

  He nods.

  “I’m not ready to be a mother. I mean, I have no money. I live in a shoebox and I can barely afford that. If I were to have this baby then I’ll have to move back in with my parents. There would be no other way.”

  “What about Jackson?”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, he is the father, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And he is definitely a man of substantial means. I do not think that he would mind supporting you and his child in a comfortable way. Not at all.”

  “No, no, no,” I say, shaking my head so feverishly that my neck starts to hurt.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I can’t…” My words trail off. I don’t know what I mean. I don’t know what I’m saying.

  “I can’t do that,” I say after taking a deep breath.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t tell him. Not until I decide what I want for myself.”

  “Are you thinking of not telling him at all?” Martin asks after a moment.

  I focus my gaze on him. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “You’re not going to tell him about this conversation, right?”

  “Of course not. I take my patient confidentiality very seriously.”

  I don’t really believe him, but I don’t really have a choice. “Even though he is paying you?”

  “It doesn’t matter who is paying me, Harley. I am your bodyguard and I am your therapist. My allegiance is to you and to your secrets.”

  My secret.

  Is that what my baby is? A secret?

  I guess so. Hmm…that’s disheartening.

  I never really gave having kids much thought but I never expected the news to be a secret.

  A big lump forms in the back of my throat.

  I don’t want my baby to be a secret. I don’t want my baby to think that he or she isn’t loved every moment of every day. I take a deep breath and wipe the tear that runs down my cheek. Well, there it is, huh? I guess there’s nothing else left to decide about this.

  “What is it?” Martin asks. “You suddenly have this aura around you. Something is different.”

  I give him a weak smile.

  “You caught that, huh?” I ask.

  He raises his eyebrows and waits for me to answer.

  “I was just thinking about the baby and how I never thought that my baby would be a secret. I always thought that this would be a happy time. And that’s when I realized that I have already made the decision about what I’m going to do about this.”

  “What is that?”

  “No matter how sick I am right now, or how unprepared I am to have a baby or how poor, I’m going to keep it.”

  30

/>   Harley

  When I make a discovery…

  Making the decision to keep the baby takes a weight off my shoulders.

  There’s something about not knowing that puts you into a purgatory of anxiety.

  And now that I’ve made the decision to keep it and to raise it myself, everything seems easier.

  It’s like the load that I am carrying up to the two-hundredth floor of a high-rise is suddenly half the weight it was before and I am twice as strong.

  I get off the couch and make myself a cup of tea.

  Martin joins me.

  Cradling the warm cup in my hands, I watch the steam rise up in front of us.

  It swirls off the surface of the water, slowly and whimsically making it toward my face.

  I bring the cup closer to my eyes and close them, letting the steam caress my skin.

  “I think that the scariest thing about having a child, for me, is the whole unknown aspect to it.”

  Martin nods.

  “I just don’t know what it will be like. I mean, there are women who are born with this innate feeling of knowing that they want a baby. And I just never felt that. Never. I mean, I always knew that I wanted to be a writer, but to have a baby? To create life? No, that was always for someone else.”

  “And now?”

  “Nothing has really changed. I mean, if I weren’t pregnant then I still wouldn’t be dreaming of having a baby. But now that it’s happening, I just sort of wonder…why not? What if it’s…extraordinary?”

  The longer I talk to Martin, the easier the words come out. And the longer I talk to him, the more centered I get about what I want.

  That’s the thing about talking, or writing, isn’t it?

  Sometimes, you need to separate yourself from your thoughts and actually put them into words, either by saying them out loud or by writing them down.

  And it’s only then that all the stuff swirling around in my mind becomes focused and clear.