Make it Reighn (A Threads Inc. Saga Book 1)

by R. J. Castille

  I vaguely remember what the rest of the conversation involved. In an attempt to keep from getting upset further, I kept it light and did as little speaking as I could. Somehow, I got myself roped into dinner at her house the following evening and I was to bring “that girl,” Courtney, along. I hated it when she called her that. Courtney had been around so long, we were practically sisters, yet my mother insisted on speaking about her as if she were a temporary fixture. Agreeing with the plans hastily, I wished my mother a good day and ended the call. I still held the phone grasped tightly in my hand when I looked up at met my best friend’s gaze.

  “She is really something, Court. You know me, I try not to lose my cool with her, but she makes it so…difficult,” I lowered my gaze to the floor and shook my head slowly. Someday soon, my mother would eat the words that she shoved down my throat for so long and I definitely wanted to be the one to feed them to her. “But hey, the good news is, we’re both going to dinner at her house tomorrow,” Courtney nearly choked on my last sentiment, her eyes flying open in an exaggerated surprised fashion. She did her best to avoid having to spend extended periods of time around my mother. Maybe it was because she treated her with such a dismissive attitude. Courtney was always in it for the long haul and I knew she would not let me face that music alone, she never had.

  Courtney simply nodded before moving on. She rushed toward my closet to see what I had to wear. Since I was going to work for a fashion magazine, she insisted that I needed to have the perfect outfit. Quickly becoming frustrated with what I had hanging inside, she threw several garments over her shoulder as she pulled them from the rod, gave them a quick once over before shaking her head and discarding them. By the time she was finished, she had practically emptied the entire closet that now lay scattered about my small bedroom. Her brow creased with frustration as she turned and headed out of my room.

  A few minutes later, she appeared at my doorway as I slowly picked up her mess, folding the clothing and placing them neatly on top of my bed. Her purse was slung over her shoulder and she spun the key to her Honda Civic around her index finger as her foot impatiently tapped the floor. Looking me up and down, she turned on her heel and motioned for me to follow her. It was quite clear that we were going on an outing and I was certain it was because I simply did not have anything worthy of my new digs to wear. Grabbing my purse and cell phone as I exited my room and followed her out the door like an obedient puppy, I followed Courtney to her car. We got inside and secured our safety belts as she turned the ignition, bringing the car to life. I said nothing as she signaled and pulled her car carefully out into traffic.

  It took nearly the entire afternoon shopping the local malls but, by the time Courtney was finished with me, I had several new and quite trendy ensembles to wear. She of course put them on her card, instructing me to pay her back later when I hit the big time. I thanked her profusely for her generosity and admired the clothes as I started to hang them up in my closet, replacing what she called my “frumpy” clothes with the hottest things she could find.

  I now stood in front of the building, wearing a pinstripe skirt with a cable knit, sweater topped with an infinity scarf that complimented the outfit quite nicely. Courtney had even insisted on blow drying my hair out, creating a fuller look that was practically frizz free by the time she finished with me. I had no idea how she did that, but I made a mental note to have her show me step-by-step later, so I could at least try to replicate it later. Rather than allow me to dawn my simple, black flats, Courtney had practically forced me to wear her four-inch stiletto heels. I did not wear them that often, in fact I did not even own a pair, so I was quite off balance. Fortunately, we wore the same shoe size, so I was able to borrow one of hers. As I stood there, teetering above the ground on an impossibly small heel, I lamented how women could stand to wear them all day, every day. It certainly was not my cup of tea.

  As I approached the front of the building, the doors whisked open, a cold blast of air blowing in my face as I breached the threshold. I stopped for a split second and allowed the breeze to cool my skin before venturing further into the lobby. Polished marble floors stretched out as far as the eye could see, dark veins weaving their way infinitely across the surface. On the far side of the lobby, I noticed a small desk with a stout, proud-looking Security Officer standing to its side. Realizing that was where I should check in, I approached him cautiously, so as not to set of his internal alarm.

  “Good morning, Miss,” he greeted me with a genuine smile, “how can I help you today?” His teeth were perfectly straight and seemed too big for his mouth. Bright white gleamed behind his lips, an obvious frequent flier at the Cosmetic Dentistry Office. It did not help that he had a dark, bushy moustache that occupied his upper lip. I could tell by the lines that he worked desperately to keep it in check, but I had a feeling that it often gave him a run for his money with a wily hair that curled up and out, refusing to go into place. I had allowed inner monologue far too much time to work its magic, my creative imagination kicked into overdrive as I stood nervously in front of him.

  “I am here to meet with Salley Chase with the Talent Acquisition Department,” I stated simply once I realized he was staring at me waiting for me to say something. The Officer pushed a clipboard with several pages fastened to the front and watched as I printed my name, the date what department I was heading to before scribbling my signature on the line indicated. He picked up the clipboard and glanced at his watch. Noting the time before putting the clipboard back down on the desk, he reached forward with his hand, offering me a laminated visitor badge. I took it from him and looped the lanyard around my neck.

  I wound my way through several twists and turns and down a number of long corridors before I found it. One wrong turn and two helpful employees later and I was standing in front of a set of double-doors with frosted glass panes fixed to the front. Across the ghosted surface, in bold lettering were the words I had been searching for: Talent Acquisitions Department. It still made me giggle. They had chosen such a fancy, schmancy title for the department when what they really meant was that it was simply Human Resources. Of course, they did, and it made it that much more exciting as I took a deep breath, grasped the handle and pulled.

  The smell of old paper and intermingled perfumes wafted toward me when I breached the entrance. Behind a long counter that stood parallel from the main entrance, several well-dressed individuals scurried about, conducting their business without a thought. I crept toward the dark surface of the counter and spied a clipboard on top. Trying not to be too obvious that I had no clue what I was doing, I leaned forward slightly to reveal a sign-in sheet fastened to the surface of the clipboard. A long strand of dark twine kept the user of the pen fastened to the other end from carrying it away inadvertently.

  As carefully as I could, I printed my name, the date and the nature of my business on the lines. The last slot was indicated to leave blank as it was for Office Use Only. I stepped back several paces and waited for someone to notice me. After an eternity, a short-haired woman with slight features noticed me. A large smile stretched across her features as she approached the counter from the other side. Glancing down at the clipboard for several moments, she nodded to herself and motioned for me to approach. Timidly, I stepped across the space and back to the counter.

  “I am Alexis Parker, you can call me Lexi,” she held her hand outstretched across the counter. I grasped it in my hand and gave it several pumps before releasing my grasp. “I will let Lisette know you are waiting. Please, have a seat, it won’t be but a moment.”

  Instead, I continued to stand. I was far too keyed up to sit down. Leaning slightly against the wall so I could rest my aching feet a little, I made a mental note to either go back to my reasonably comfortable and practical flats. I never did understand how women could traipse around for hours in heels. It had only been a couple of hours and my feet were already killing me. Surely there were some flats out there that would be conside
red a little more fashionable, I just had to find them.

  I was so busy pondering my footwear, I hardly noticed her approach. She stood directly in front of me, practically nose-to-nose, by the time I realized she was there. Lisette Conrad was breathtaking. Her long, red hair bounced around her shoulders in large ringlets as she took several more steps with her hand extended in greeting. Long, slender fingers finished off with perfectly manicured nails. Not painted, just natural and beautiful, like a French manicure. Her tan skirt suit was coupled with a dark, burgundy blouse that ruffled at the throat and down the sides of the lapels. She too dawned impossibly tall, high-heeled shoes. I almost sighed out loud when I realized that I would likely just have to get used to the idea of wearing them. I would definitely have to get used to actually wearing them.

  It took nearly two hours for me to finish the paperwork that Lisette had prepared for me. Non-disclosure agreements of every kind were on top and appeared to be more important that my demographic information or even my name. Finally finished, Lisette gave me a quick tour of the building. She honed-in on the break rooms, vending machine areas, common workspaces and of course, and most importantly, the restroom. Last, but definitely not least, the office where I would be assigned. Once we were finished with the tour, I was escorted back to the Talent Acquisitions Department, my picture taken for my badge and then I was instructed to present at eight o’clock the next morning, directly to Ms. Regina Schultz’s offices.

  All I could do was nod like an overwhelmed, yet excited beyond belief, child. Ms. Conrad finished her instructions and regarded me with a curious stare before shaking my hand, spinning on her heel and disappearing into the back of the area. I stood there for several seconds in bewilderment before turning toward the exit and taking my leave. As I left the building and made my way back to my car, I nearly screamed out loud. It was still so hard to believe that I, Jessica Goldstein, now held one of the most coveted internship spots at Threads, Inc. I just knew it was going to be an exciting ride and was ready to conquer the world.

  Chapter 4

  Reighn

  I knew it was going to be a bad day when I realized what day it was. Instead of hopping out of bed, hitting the weights or treadmill and readying myself for the day, I lay in the center of my California King-sized bed. The Tempurpedic mattress yielded to my weight just enough to cradle my form perfectly. Staring at the ceiling, I sighed out loud to my empty room. Dragging myself free from my bed after spending nearly an hour debating even acknowledging the anniversary of my Father’s death, I made my way to the bathroom on the other side of the room.

  It had been ten years to the day and it seemed like just yesterday. I can still almost hear the screeching tires and shattering glass. I can almost feel the pain as my femur splintered, crushed under the weight of the pickup truck. From time to time, I swear I would get a random whiff of burning rubber, and my mind always wanders back to that night.

  ***

  My father had been drinking, as he always did. On our way home from a short business trip to Northern California, he had decided to stop off at one of his favorite girly clubs just inside the Ventura County line. That particular club was known for its cold beer, monster cheeseburger that was actually quite good, and for some of its women who would extend sexual favors if you had enough cash.

  Daddy dearest left me sitting alone in the corner of the bar in a booth farthest from the tip rail, while he took one of the skankiest chicks I had seen to date into the back room. I tried fly under the radar and not attract anyone’s attentions. Sinking lower into the booth in attempt to temporarily disappear, I got to work on the cheeseburger and heaping pile of French fries one of the waitresses had set down in front of me. When they finally emerged again, my father was fumbling to buckle his belt again as she smoothed her hair down quickly with her hands. Not very subtle, but everyone knew what was going on, so it didn’t matter too terribly much.

  I was sickened by the sight, as I watched him stumble toward me. When he finally reached the table where I sat, he stood with his hands planted firmly on his hips, a cold stare as looked down at me. I knew what that look meant. It was the look he always gave me when he told me never to tell my mother what happened, or he would take it out of my flesh. I knew he wasn’t kidding, he had done so more than once, so I knew better than to divulge his extra-marital activities to her. Besides, I would hate to see my mother hurt that way, so I kept it all to myself.

  We spent another few hours inside the smoke-filled bar. I attempted to amuse myself with the handheld video game I had brought on the trip to amuse me during the long drive. The back of my mind vaguely registered my father’s hefty voice wafting across the room toward me, a hearty laugh followed by another of his “world-famous” jokes. I glanced up at him from my place on the hard, rubber of the bench. His arm draped lazily around the woman that he had disappeared into the back with. He was teetering where he stood, despite using her small frame as a temporary crutch. I should have been worried as he was quite inebriated, but my father knew how to handle his alcohol. There were many times I thought we would end up in a ditch on the side of the road, yet we made it safely to our destination. Still, it was difficult to ignore the constant nagging in the back of my mind.

  By the time we left, the coastal fog had rolled in and settled itself like a thick blanket across the landscape. The mist rolled across the pavement in swirling patterns. I noticed that the visibility was very low and that voice in the back of my head started to protest yet again. From time to time, my father would be so far gone that he would actually have me drive, which wasn’t exactly legal since I did not have a driver’s license, nor was I actually old enough to even get one. If it got us from one place to the other unharmed, I was willing and able to do so since he had taught me how as soon as I could see over the dashboard.

  “Hey, Dad,” I opened my mouth to say something, which was rare when it came to him, but something about the whole situation made me uneasy, “do you want me to drive? That way you can relax until we get home.” I tried to play it off as if I was trying to give him a break. What I was really doing was trying to ease the sense of impending doom I felt as he opened the door and slipped behind the driver’s seat.

  “No need for that, I’m perfectly fine. Just get in so we can be on our way,” his worlds slurred together in places, an obvious sign that he had been drinking. Somehow my father was the lucky one that never got pulled over by the Highway Patrol and subjected to the roadside sobriety test. He seemed to, for the most part, sail through his drunken existence unscathed, which I always felt was completely unfair. As abusive as he was to my mother and me and considering the fact that there was rarely a moment when he was not drunk, it was beyond me why he always got away with everything.

  Shaking my head in disapproval, I opened the passenger door and reluctantly crawled inside the cab. I settled in and stretched the safety belt securely across my lap, pulling on it to make sure it was set before closing the door. My old man looked at me curiously from behind a drunken haze. He laughed heartily at my obvious discomfort as he attempted three times to put the key into the ignition before succeeding. Turning the key, the motor roared to life. As he backed out of the parking space and pointed the car in the direction of the Pacific Coast Highway, my chest got tighter and I was feeling a little dizzy. I had never been officially diagnosed with Anxiety since my father was too cheap to give my mother money to take me to the doctor, but I knew quite well that is what I was feeling. My chest was tight, and the palms of my hands were becoming moist with sweat. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to will myself to sleep to escape the nasty feeling that was washing over me as quickly as the waves rolled onto the shore.

  We wound our way down the coast, a little faster than I was comfortable with. The highway twisted and turned along the cliffs and provided a spectacular view of the ocean during the day, but at night, it was pitch black and difficult to see anything. A triangle of light from the headlights on the
truck the only source of illumination for miles in either direction, cutting through the blackness but only enough to see several feet in front of us. On more than one occasion, I felt the tires slip on gravel that had been pushed to the side of the road by other vehicles and my heart leapt into my throat. That sound meant that he was edging far too close to the shoulder as he drove. My father drove on as if nothing was amiss.

  It was a tight right-hander that got us. The truck barreled forward with my father at the wheel, who was leaning far forward in attempt to see through the veil of fog. It only allowed him to see several feet in front of him, which did not bode well for someone driving as fast as he was. I was nervous when he blinked several times to clear his vision, as if he were becoming sleepy and was having trouble keeping his eyes open because of it. That’s when it happened.

  Out of nowhere, a small animal scurried across the asphalt, causing my father to swerve just enough to veer out onto the shoulder. He hit the brakes and twisted the wheel a little farther as the road led us down an incline and around the corner. The tire on my side hit the soft sand and gravel on the side of the road and spun uselessly. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched in horror as he twisted the wheel side to side in attempt to gain control over the truck again. It was no use and I looked up just in time to see the edge of the road and our front end going over it.

  The sound of crushing metal and breaking glass filled my ears as the truck tumbled over. We rolled over several times, the rocks along the cliffs crushing into the metal of the truck as if it were playdough. I had been smart enough to put my safety belt on, unfortunately, my father had not and was bouncing around the cab like a rag doll. He put his arms up to try and stop himself, but when he tumbled back down, his full weight on his arms, I heard one snap and watched in horror as the bone popped out at a precarious angle. When the truck rolled over again, my head hit the side of the doorframe and bright sparks flew across my vision before I was swallowed by darkness.