by Sierra Rose
“Yeah, I’m sorry we have idiots at the office,” she said.
“They’re just dealing with grief the best way they know how. I know how much they respected and loved our new boss.”
The friends knocked back glasses of merlot and eating mountains of meat on brioche buns, deriding whichever division of the Fitzsimmons’ empire had sent the Lay’s potato chips. Jack and Charlie entered with Mr. James and a few other older men. They circulated from table to table, shaking hands and thanking people for coming. Britt overheard Jack say at least nine times, “It would have meant so much to Dad to have you here.” It was like his memorized go-to line for the stressful situation and her heart went out to him once again.
Chapter 8
She and Marj ate far too many small cheesecakes while they waited.
“Look, you have to spill about the boss’s son. I was trying to wait for details out of respect for where we are today but, you are legit killing me with the withholding. When did you get so good at secrecy? How long has this been going on? You said it happened on the night Kevin dumped you?”
“A few months,” she said.
“Months? Like when?”
“Right after I broke up with Kevin.”
“For real? I cannot believe you never told me!” Marj said, popping another white chocolate and raspberry mini cheesecake.
“Honestly, it was really hard not to. But I didn’t know he was the boss’s son when we got together and then I insisted on keeping it a secret so it didn’t look like—”
“Did you think everyone would believe you screwed your way into that employment opportunity? You’ve worked there for four years. Fitzsimmons just took over. How could that possibly reflect badly on you?”
“It seemed unprofessional.”
“As in if the boss hadn’t died you would still be banging Jack in secret?”
“That is an extremely tacky thing to say.”
“It is extremely immature to go around behind everyone’s back with the boss’s son!”
“Okay, maybe it’s immature but I kind of expected you to react this way, like it’s salacious gossip instead of, you know, my life,” Britt shot back.
“Whatever. I’m just bitter that I didn’t manage to sniff it out before you told me. He’s hot. Is he as hot as I think he is?”
“Much hotter.”
“Details?”
“Never.”
“Gosh, I hate when you’re discreet. You’re such a good girl sometimes.”
“A good girl who got involved with the boss’s son, though,” Britt reminded her. “He was just supposed to be a fling but I—”
“Enjoyed flinging him too much?”
“Exactly right.”
“See, isn’t it better when we can talk about these things openly, Britt?”
“Yeah, at his dad’s funeral. So appropriate.”
“It’s kind of his wake now. We’re supposed to be happy and eating cheesecake merrily with an open bar.”
Charlie and Jack approached.
“Sorry about your dad,” Marj said.
“It’s great that you came. Thank you,” Jack said diffidently.
Britt struggled to swallow her mini cheesecake whole and then nodded too enthusiastically.
“Yes, it’s great,” Marj said. “I mean, not great. Because your father died. But great to be here. To pay our respects. Gosh, I’m sorry. I’m so bad at this. Sit down and let me get you a drink.”
“We’re fine. Thanks,” Charlie said. “Listen, Jakie, sit down with the ladies for a few minutes. I’ll make the rounds. No booze.” Charlie addressed the last directive to Britt who nodded.
Jack sank into a chair beside Britt and she looped her arm through his. He turned to her and kissed her on the mouth almost helplessly. Her heart went out to him and she held him for a moment before releasing him. He dropped his head onto her shoulder.
“I can’t do it. This is too miserable. Nothing has any meaning, Britt. This is hell. Hell is walking around in a fucking suit listening to people tell me how much they’re going to miss my dad. My dad,” he said brokenly.
“They don’t know what to say. They’re trying to be nice.”
“It doesn’t matter what they’re trying to do. It’s meaningless. None of it will bring him back. None of it will make this ritual anything but torture. Why do I have to say hello to all of these fucking people? I don’t know half of them. They probably work for some company he owned that I never even heard of. And Charlie, fucking Charlie who owns a bar, for goodness sake, won’t let me have a drink. Not one drop to take the edge off,” he said in bitter disbelief.
Jack dropped his head into his hands.
“I love you,” she said, her hand on his shoulder, solicitous.
“You’ve already said you love each other,” Joe said. “Whoa. I have missed some serious shit. Good for you two. I mean apart from the sad occasion.”
“Right. Whatever, Joe. At least you’re honest and you’re not weeping all over yourself about how my dad bought you a diet Pepsi once and it changed your life.”
“Did someone really say that to you?” he asked.
“No. I was being facetious but it’s pretty close to some things I’ve heard. And it’s all supposed to matter, like they act like they’re giving me back pieces of my father. Like he’s scattered. I lost him somehow and they’ve come generously to bring me a crumb of what’s left.”
Jack pushed away from the table with both hands and set off after Charlie without another word.
“Did you hear Joe?” Britt asked. “See? This is why Jack shouldn’t have said anything. Now he has to deal with that on top of his father’s death.”
“He’s a mess,” Marj said. “Not thinking straight.”
“No shit,” Britt said, then pointed to a group of suits. “Now he’s being swallowed up by the tycoon brigade. Probably coworkers or other old rich guys who went to—”
“Rich white guy college with Fitzsimmons? Yeah, probably. Let’s go.”
Britt said goodbye to Jack and he said he’d call her in a little while when things calmed down.
Marj and Britt separated at their cars and Britt went home to an empty apartment. She was so sad, there was no denying it. She was upset about her boss’s death. She would’ve stayed but Jack had told her he wanted some time by himself to spend time with his dad’s friends and share memories. Charlie would look out for him.
Chapter 9
Britt called Jack and got his voicemail so she left a message.
“Jack, give me a call when you get the chance. I miss you.”
Still, she heard nothing back from him.
It was the day of his father’s funeral and maybe he didn’t have the time or energy to check in with her.
His brother was in town from halfway across the world and they had catching up to do.
They’d have business to take care of pertaining to Peter Fitzsimmons’ death and the execution of his estate. While she assumed such an eminent businessman would have a pretty clear-cut will, it would be harrowing for Jack to see his dad’s property divided up. She wished to wrap her arms around him and take his mind off the loss of his father, the myriad responsibilities that being his heir apparent could entail. Still, any time she called, it went straight to voicemail.
At work, Jack did not appear. No one commented on that fact because it was obvious that he’d have arrangements to make, titles and ownerships to transfer, deals to strike with his oft-absentee brother Charlie. Britt sat in the break room picking miserably at a low-fat yogurt and listening to the gossip. The management was convinced that it would be business as usual but with Jack at the helm, while Luke, Marj’s boyfriend, was sure that Jack would decamp for a free-wheeling musician’s life as soon as he could get out from under the consulting firm and the various other properties. His point was that Jack didn’t need to work financially, so why would he tie himself down with all these businesses his father built? Marj needled him about being afraid o
f commitment even if he had a fortune handed to him. After half an hour of speculation, Britt gave up and went back to her cube.
It struck her that Jack was so unresponsive. She dialed the boss’s secretary and asked if Jack had checked in.
“No, I just get voicemail when I call about something important. I think we can call this personal leave.”
“Right. Thanks,” Britt said, at least superficially reassured that he was avoiding contact with everyone, not just herself.
“And shouldn’t you know this if you’re his girlfriend?”
I glared at her. And this is exactly why I wanted to keep this office affair secret.
“He’s grieving and we’re spending some time apart,” Britt said. “And why do I have to explain this to you. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on that everyone knows.”
“It’s one of the worst decisions you can make,” she said.
“Discretion is the key to a successful office romance,” Britt said.
“Being attracted to colleagues should be a big no-no. You need to pull the plug. Is it really worth the office politics and gossip? It’s worse than high school. Your career and reputation are at stake. Office affairs are complicated and unprofessional. And I can’t believe Jack would cruise ‘the cubicles’ for love.”
“I met him before he ever set foot in the office.”
“Still, why would you do it?”
“Because love doesn’t come with instructions.”
Storming, Britt left. She knew people would always look at her in a different light. It’s why she worked so hard to keep it a secret.
She wondered how Jack was doing. She knew he was loyal and faithful. Still, some small jealous part of her wondered if Miranda had left that funeral dinner alone or if she had decided to provide Jack with a special kind of solace. That night, Britt went over to his apartment to see how he was doing. She just wanted to see him. She had to trust that everything would be okay.
When she stepped out of the elevator on his floor, she took a long breath. She wished she had the armor of some excuse to be there, just in case there was another woman there. Scolding herself for being a coward, she knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked louder. When there was no response, she took out her phone and rang his. She could hear the ringtone from where she stood in the hallway so unless he’d forgotten his phone, he was on the premises.
“Please open the door, Jack.
“Or what? Are you going to break it down?” he said.
“Maybe I will.”
She looked down at her flip-flops and wished she’d chosen more aggressive footwear...something apropos for destroying doors, perhaps. Still, she listened closely and heard a grumble, a shuffle and the door creaked open. Inside it was completely dark and frankly the air inside the apartment didn’t smell all that good. Fresh air had not been part of the last couple of days for Jack. She pushed past him, noting from the light of the hallway that he was scruffy, unwashed, either half-asleep or half-drunk.
“What’s gotten into you?” she said.
“Shit! You’re loud,” he mumbled, brushing past her to flop onto the sofa.
Britt flicked on a lamp and he shielded his eyes like he was emerging from a subterranean lair. He blinked and turned his head to the couch cushions. She picked up messy piles of papers, wrinkled and with coffee stains on them, and tried to bundle them into their respective folders without being intrusive. Finally she just shoved them all into one big stack to deal with later. She brought Jack a glass of water and two aspirin.
Jack sat up, rubbed his hands over his face and looked around ineffectually.
“I can’t remember what happened. I don’t know. I know I had drinks.” He nodded toward a few empty bottles on the side table, one dirty tumbler on its side.
“I’m starving though,” he said.
In his kitchen, she found the remnants of the meat tray in the refrigerator, some olives, part of a fruit tray that was mostly soggy melon, and a few mini cheesecakes. She paused, popped a pumpkin one into her mouth—just to test their freshness and safety obviously—and started to assemble a plate for Jack. She loaded a leftover brioche bun with a stack of meat slices and put some olives and melon on the side. She reluctantly parted with a couple of the cheesecakes in chocolate mint and presented him with the loaded plate.
When she came back in, he had fallen asleep again.
“Jack,” she said.
He opened his eyes. “What’s going on?” he said. “Everything’s fuzzy. My head hurts.”
“Your dad died and you’ve been on a two-day drunk. I found some food in your kitchen. Give your body something to bounce back on.”
“How did you know I was hungry?”
“Um, you told me.”
“Oh. I must’ve fallen asleep again.”
“You did.”
Jack regarded her dubiously and poked at the massive sandwich overloaded with meat. Taking a labored breath, he took a bite of the mini cheesecake. Despite the fact that she and Marj had been popping those things in a single bite, she was happy to see him consume anything that wasn’t straight alcohol. When he ate the rest of that single mini cheesecake, Britt felt her eyes well with tears. She wanted him to be okay. He wasn’t okay, not anywhere close to it yet, but this was one step in the right direction. She wanted to seize him, hug him, and tell him everything was going to be okay.
Jack set the plate down on the coffee table and picked up the sandwich with both hands. He chewed it and swallowed it and set the sandwich back down. He reached for the water glass and aspirin.
“Why did Charlie leave you like this?” she asked.
“He had to get back to Auckland.”
“Really? Bar emergency?”
“Nah, he’s allergic to responsibility and I think he might have wandered into some feelings and had to get away from them before he caught a chronic case of maturity.”
“So he left you to take care of everything as usual?”
“I wasn’t like this when he left. I’d only had about a half a bottle and I even got dressed like I was going in to work. Fooled him,” Jack said with a hollow laugh. He nodded toward the pile of clothing on the floor, a suit and shirt and shoes. It was just then she noticed he was sitting around in his underwear and the t-shirt she had once borrowed from his brother’s bar. She wondered if he’d chosen it intentionally because of Charlie or because of her. Or if he had been cold and drunk and grabbed the nearest shirt, was more like it.
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I could probably use a shower.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and take one? I think I’ll try to tidy up,” she said, looking around.
“Never mind that. I have a cleaner coming in tomorrow. If tomorrow’s Thursday.”
“Tomorrow’s not Thursday. Today was.”
“So where the hell’s the cleaner? I ought to call her agency.”
“My guess is she knocked and you wouldn’t let her in.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, trust me.”
“Fair enough.”
“If you get cleaned up and rest a while, I’ll buy you a steak.”
“At Tamarind? I thought you might punish me with lobster.”
“Punish you for what? Being sad?”
“I’m sure you’ve tried to reach me. I had my phone off.”
“No you didn’t. I heard it ring when I was in the hall.”
“Okay, so I ignored it. It’s exactly like turning it off except lazier and more irritating.”
“Well, then, let’s turn it off for now. You can deal with voicemails tomorrow.”
“How many did you leave for me, out of curiosity?”
“One. I figure if you want to call me back, you will.”
“That’s brave talk from a woman who threatened to break down my door.”
“In flip flops. That was the definition of an empty threat, Jack.”
“Not nec
essarily. I have great faith that you could borrow an ax and dispatch with that door in no time.”
“So I’d go knock on doors saying, hey can I use your ax?”
“Sure. It’s a little more original than borrowing a cup of sugar, but very few people would probably dare to dissuade you when you were determined and required an ax. It would be smarter to simply hand over the hatchet.”
“Go take a shower and we’ll talk when you’re finished.”
Jack nodded and went resolutely to shower.
Chapter 10
Britt cleared away the meal and did up the dishes. She gathered up the garbage and put the empty glass bottles in the recycling bin. She picked up clothes off his floor and sorted them into approximate laundry loads. Although her exploration of the apartment had not been extensive, she felt certain that he sent his laundry out. Looking around, she finally found a bag for dry cleaning and another for washables and she filled them each accordingly. She surveyed her progress and deemed that she’d made a respectable dent in the mess. She opened the windows to pump some fresh air into the stagnant room.
She went into Jack’s room and waited for him to come out of the shower. When he did, in just his shorts, toweling off his wet hair, she felt her heart lurch. She loved him so much, so deeply. The sight of him, sad and broken, yet still visibly strong, his bare chest shining with drops of water from his recent shower, tore her apart. On one hand she wanted to soothe and comfort him and make no demands. Britt went to enfold him in a hug.
Jack shook his head and pushed her away, resisting the consolation. He sank down onto the bed and all of him seemed to sag under the weight of his grief. She settled down beside him and put her arm around him. Britt laid her head on his shoulder without saying a single word and in a moment, he leaned his head against hers. Companionably, they sat without speaking. Then he yawned, not even trying to stifle his exhaustion politely.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Just lie down and rest. You need it.”
Jack settled onto a pillow and Britt drew the duvet up over his perfect torso. She took his hand and held it, then gave it a squeeze.