by Emily Bourne
Eddy’s brow furrows. “Yeah, I know.”
“Should he really be in charge of the money then?”
“He can count,” Eddy says in a low tone. “Are you trying to blame him for the lack of funding?”
“No. No, I––”
“––He’s not dumb.”
“I know that,” she rushes. “He isn’t. It was just a shock. I’ve never met anyone with a lack of education before.”
“News flash; you’ve spent days around people like that.”
“Wow, I really do live in a bubble,” Jazz says, growing angry at herself. “Can I blame this on lack of sleep?”
Eddy grins. “Sure, I’ll give ya a pass.”
Jazz rubs her lips together, knowing she should leave the conversation be, but there was just one more question that was bothering her. “Hey, you said you’re from Province, right?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s an exclusive area. That would mean you have money? Why don’t you back the site?”
“I have,” he says flatly. “I got this site.”
Jazz’s mouth falls open. She blinks, trying to continue the conversation, but her words betray her.
“I’ve got to get ready for the day,” Eddy says, passing by her. “You’ll be ok.”
She nods as Eddy paces towards his office. Her stomach clenches with a sense of dread. She resumes pacing the hall to steady her thoughts.
On her second lap, Jazz slows by Adrian’s door. Will he be up yet?
Before another moment’s thought, Adrian’s door opens. He greets her with a growing smile.
“Hey there, do you need something?” he asks.
Jazz stares at the sunlight dazzling in his brown eyes, and says the message from her heart. “Just to see you.”
Adrian’s steps out of the doorway. “You want to come in?”
She grins as she slips inside.
Adrian closes the door behind them and sits down on his unmade bed. Without hesitation, Jazz sits beside him.
“How did you sleep?” he asks.
“I didn’t.”
His shoulders droop. “Oh no, really?”
“Yeah. I woke up some time after you left and tossed and turned.”
“I didn’t sleep either,” he sighs. “Too bad. We could have stayed up talking to pass the time.”
“That would have been nice instead of grappling with my thoughts.”
“What’s bugging you?”
“Oh, just everything and anything.” She rubs his forearm. “Were you thinking about DJ?”
“Yeah, thinking I could have done more,” he answers. “The boys were having issues together. I did nothing about it. I didn’t take it seriously.”
“You couldn’t have predicted this.”
“I should have talked to him more.”
“What about the way I spoke to him?” Jazz replies. “I feel so bad. I was so rude to him.”
“You just got here. You were still adjusting.”
“I was being a spoilt brat,” Jazz says, the corners of her lips curling. “It’s ok, you can say it.”
A hint of laughter escapes him. “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly.”
“Many people who have known me my whole life call me that.”
Adrian’s face screws up. “Really?”
Jazz nods. “I dunno. Maybe they’re right.”
Adrian cups her hand. “You weren’t spoilt last night. You were brave. Not to mention how generous you were with Myra. I wouldn’t call you spoilt at all.”
Jazz’s blushes as her heart flutters, and a giggle escapes her. “Thanks. Brave is the best compliment I could ask for. You were so fearless in the dining room.”
“Glad it came across that way, because I wasn’t completely fearless.”
“You do so much for the people here.” She interlaces her fingers with his. “We need to save this place.”
Adrian smiles. “I’m glad you still want to save it. I thought last night might have put you off.”
“DJ was scary, but not enough to forget everything you shared with me. All of last night combined makes me hungrier to help.”
“Speaking of hungry,” Adrian says, standing, “want to get breakfast?”
Jazz stands and taps her empty belly. “Please.”
Memory
ADRIAN can’t stop smiling every moment he steals a glance at Jazz. Her doe eyes dip their gaze, subtly looking back at him.
A twinge of guilt hurts his stomach as his urge to flirt with Jazz takes precedence over lifting the mood in the dining room. Last night shook the few remaining people living in the shelter. Many haven’t surfaced from their rooms, and Adrian wonders if some left during the night.
Jazz takes her plate to a table and Adrian’s heart tugs for him to follow. He sits opposite her and mimics her smile.
“Maybe we could continue our conversation from last night?” Jazz suggests, a brow arching. “You know, the one we were in the middle of before all the craziness happened.”
Adrian hugs his middle, forcing himself to stay seated despite his deep need to jump on the table and cheer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Jazz nods at his plate. “Hungry?”
Adrian picks up a piece of toast and says, “I think so, but I don’t think my appetite has come back to tell me to eat.”
“Tell me about it,” Jazz says. “I have to remind myself to eat, too.”
“What was that last night?” Gene asks, sliding a plate on the table and taking the seat by Jazz. “I didn’t know DJ was such a psycho.”
“He’s not a psycho,” Adrian is quick to say.
“No,” Gene replies sarcastically. “Sane people always threaten people with knives.”
“He hasn’t had an easy life,” Adrian counters, his heart pounding against his ribs.
“Gene,” Jazz whispers, “try to be a little more sensitive.”
“Hey, I can be sensitive,” Gene says, pointing to his chest, “but how would you feel if your roommate tried to kill someone or himself? Imagine if he had done that when we were all in bed.”
Adrian rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I know.” Adrian lowers his hand and sees Jazz’s hand reaching across the table to him. He takes her hand and his chest eases.
Gene looks back and forth at the pair, and then his jaw drops. “Wait a minute, how’d it go last night?” He points to their clasped hands. “Good, I’m guessing.”
Their hands break apart and they both mutter, “Gene.”
“What?” Gene squeaks. “You know I had my fingers crossed for you guys. Look how cute you two are together.”
Heat lines the sides of Adrian’s face, and he laughs when he sees rose spread across Jazz’s cheeks.
Jazz cups a hand over her eyebrow. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“Yep, too cute,” Gene says, pleased with himself.
Adrian balls up a napkin and throws it at Gene. “Can you stop watching us, please?”
Gene bats the balled up paper away. “Eww.”
Adrian laughs. “I didn’t use it.”
Jazz snaps her fingers at Gene. “Max and Ferg want you.”
Gene rolls his eyes. “No, they don’t.”
Jazz points over Adrian’s shoulder. “Yes, they do.”
Adrian turns in his seat to see Max and Ferg waving.
Gene groans and pulls himself up from his seat, lifting his plate and moving to the next table.
“They were just waving,” Jazz whispers, leaning in close. “But he was being a pest.”
Adrian laughs. “You are so smart.”
Jazz flicks her hair, grins showing off her pearly white teeth, and laughs cheekily.
For a moment everything grows quiet, with Adrian’s heartbeat being the only thing he can hear clearly. He sits back in his seat, and says frankly, “I can’t believe you’re here.”
She looks at him with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“What are the odds someone like you would wind up
here?” He sits up, smoothing his hair back. “The way this city works, we should never have met.”
Jazz bites her lip and replies, “That would have been a real shame.”
They stand at the same time and walk their plates into the kitchen.
“You’ve liked it here?” Adrian asks, bracing himself for the answer.
“I mean, I’ve slept on a better quality mattress before,” she teases. “But I’m more than glad I’ve met everyone here. It has opened my eyes.”
“And you’ll go fight for your father’s company?”
Jazz leans against a bench, tilting her gaze to the ceiling. “All I want is to make my father proud.”
“Every kid wants to impress their parents.”
“You felt like that?” Jazz asks, pushing off the bench. “With what your parents did? You said they took you with them?”
Adrian nods. “Yeah. They sent me through windows, and into crawl spaces and safes.”
“That’s horrible.”
Adrian shrugs. “I didn’t exactly know any different. I didn’t know those things actually belonged to people.”
“What?” Jazz asks, her eyes bulging. “You were in people’s homes.”
Adrian hugs his waist, his shoulders falling forward. “I was just a kid and we lived in this run-down little house in The Limits. These were big mansions over on Sovereign Hill. I thought they were museums or shops or something.”
“Your parents never explained it?”
“No. Social workers did later on.”
“So the guilt came after they died?” Jazz says it more like a statement than a question.
“I did feel bad,” Adrian says, looking into her eyes. “I do feel bad.”
“You’re doing more than your fair share to make amends. No one can say you don’t care.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m still so sorry that you had to witness their death. No child should have to go through that.”
An ache tears through the pit of his stomach. “I don’t know if they started getting more reckless, or leaving behind too much evidence, but they were being tracked by the cops.” Sickness dominates his insides. He swallows hard before continuing. “The only thing I remember feeling around them is panic.”
Jazz touches his hand. “That’s no way for a child to grow up.”
His smile is limp. “That’s why it’s so important for me to help everyone who walks through our doors.”
“But you can’t feel responsible for everyone. It wasn’t your fault they put you in those situations.”
“I’m the last one left of my family. I have to make up for the shit they did.” He cups her hand. “I got good at it. I’m not innocent.”
Her eyes narrow. “Good at stealing?”
He nods, lips turning downward.
“Like you took initiative to steal?”
“You got good at your family business to impress your parents. I wanted to do the same thing. It was all I knew.”
Jazz shifts away. “What did you do?”
“My parents were addicted to heists. I wanted to come into my own. When we did a string of hits through Sovereign Hill, I asked around which items made the most on the black market and were easiest to sell.”
“Sovereign Hill was your target?”
Adrian shrugs, chewing his lip. “The people who could afford to lose something. They shouldn’t be able to be so wealthy when the rest of us live on nothing.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to take it away.” Jazz’s eyes widen. “This is when you were a child?”
He nods, wary.
Her face sharpens with contempt. “You went to a large white home with pillars and a high brass gate?”
“Probably.”
Jazz’s eyes bulge and shine as her head shakes. “You went into a young girl’s bedroom and took the things most precious to her.”
Adrian falters, his heart palpitating. “Wait, what?”
Jazz stands tall, stomping a foot. “You stole a necklace. A silver locket with a blue stone.”
“I... I...”
“You’re the reason I don’t have it!” Jazz yells.
“I don’t––”
“––It was my mother’s,” Jazz wails, slamming a hand over her heart. “You stole my mother’s memory.”
Adrian raises his hand, wanting to reason with her. “Yes, jewellery is easy to get rid of, but...”
“Those things were all I had left of her!” Jazz spins and darts into the dining room.
“Jazz!” Adrian calls out.
He runs into the hall, but she’s too fast, pulling open the front door and slamming it behind her.
“What’s happened?” Gene’s voice sounds behind him.
“I don’t know,” Adrian whispers.
“Jazz left?”
Adrian scrunches handfuls of his hair. “I’ve screwed up.”
“But you need her. This place needs her.”
“I don’t have the whole picture. I don’t know how I’d ever start apologising.”
Gene steps in front of him, his face paler than usual. “What happens to this place without her?”
Adrian turns away, moving towards his office, his stomach churning. “Nothing. We’re exactly in the same shit we’ve always been in.”
Judgement
JAZZ reefs open the front door and hits the cement outside. She looks back until she remembers she has no belongings to take with her. Her soiled dress is inside, but the idea of it sends her into a rage. Her hands ball into fists, her nails pierce her palms, and she lets out a shrill scream. She screams long and loud, scratching her throat and lighting a fire in her chest.
My mother. He stole my mother.
The locket she’d kept from memory for so long dangles from a chain in her mind. The image sends hot tears surging down her face.
She swipes at her face as she runs. A thought emerges from the back of her mind. How do I get home? She didn’t have any money. She didn’t have a phone to order a driver. Her pace slows as she looks over her shoulder. Someone back there would help her. She wished she’d gone out the back to find Hector, but the thought of running into Adrian keeps her moving away from the shelter.
Why was I so stupid? It was foolish to dream of romance. It affects logic, clouds judgement, and takes your eyes off the prize. Jazz hurries to the bus stop on the corner, pledging to return her full focus on securing the CEOship. It was time to put her efforts back into her business plan, completing her spreadsheets, and the presentation to the board.
She edges around a woman to read the bus timetable, when the woman pushes her and snaps, “Watch it!”
Jazz gasps as she regains her footing. She dusts her shirt. “Excuse me?”
The woman eyes her with disgust. “Don’t even try sneaking on this bus. I saw you come from that alley. You people can’t be trusted.”
Jazz’s mouth hangs ajar. She looks down at her donated clothes. Surely, she didn’t appear homeless or dirty. Because I left the shelter she assumes I’m mistrustful?
“Get out of here!” the woman snaps.
“I’m just trying to get home,” Jazz says, voice shaky.
“I bet you don’t have money for a ticket. Go somewhere and clean your face too. Horrible girl.”
Jazz touches her cheek, wiping the remnants of tears. She backs away with fear the woman will hit her if she doesn’t.
Jazz hurries along the sidewalk, realising she’s heading into the Nightclub District. Duh. She slaps her forehead, moving toward the taxi stand. She hails a taxi. Once she’s home, she can get some cash from inside. Should have gotten out of here days ago. Loathing boils inside of her to dangerous levels.
Blessing
ETHAN wraps a towel around his waist, leaving the shower, and makes his way into the living room where his freshly brewed coffee awaits. He sits on the couch and kicks his feet on the table as he unlocks Jazz’s phone and opens her emails. It’s almost identical to her text messages. Mult
iples sent from Darius, questioning her whereabouts and why she hasn’t checked in.
Ethan clicks his tongue as Darius enters his mind. He is yet to seal the deal in naming Ethan as his successor. Darius is still hoping his daughter will turn herself around and be the perfect face of Ultimate ME he raised her to be.
There was only one thing to do. Ethan had to take Jazz out of the running so he could gain all of Darius’ attention.
Ethan opens an email and hits reply:
Father,
I’m sorry for being so absent. The cruise did me a lot of good and helped put things into perspective. But I wasn’t fully honest with you. I left because I needed to think. Ethan proposed to me and I was having a hard time knowing whether to accept. But now I have come to a conclusion. I will marry Ethan and work beside him at Ultimate ME. Please, name him CEO and I will stand behind him. We can use his power and my name, and the company will be unstoppable in the industry.
Please don’t worry about me, I am fine. I will return to Maiden City soon. I need to see Ethan.
Your daughter,
Jazz
Once Ethan clicks send, he retrieves the ring box from the counter. He opens up the box and light dazzles against the diamond engagement ring. He angles the phone’s camera and snaps a picture.
Ethan walks into Darius’ office, which he has come to think of as his own, and almost stumbles when he sees Darius behind the desk.
“You’re back?” Ethan asks, not meaning to sound shocked.
“It was a mild heart episode,” Darius grumbles, tapping at his keyboard. “Nothing that should keep me away from my work. It’s not like I had a daughter by my bedside.”
Ethan takes a sheepish approach, lacing his hands behind his back and edging his way into the office. “Speaking of, did she call you this morning?”
Darius grunts to himself. Ethan stops mid-step, waiting for his response. “No,” Darius says.
Ethan continues towards the desk. “Oh, she said she would be, because...”
Darius sighs and stops typing. He glances up at Ethan and says, “She emailed me.”
Ethan stays with the timid routine, widening his eyes and pointing to himself. “About me?”