Weakness

by Shelley Michaels

  I am grateful to Ben for giving me this opportunity, he doesn’t know me, only of me, as I do him. But I do know Cam and Ben are tight and that it somehow matters to Cam that we get along, which adds another dimension of pressure.

  I flick my curls over my shoulder and force myself to take a deep breath. It’s five p.m. a quieter time to have a wander around and see what I’m up against before the crowds descend. I had dressed in my best jeans and high heeled boots, a black belt with a square buckle and a cream sleeveless blouse that cut in under my generous bust. My makeup was perfect, and my hair left long at the back, the sides and front pulled back into a loose clip.

  The thrum of the music beats quietly as I adjust my gaze to the darkness of the inside of the club, despite the early hour. There are a few guys behind the long shiny bar, bottling up and preparing for the evening ahead. Taking a breath, I confidently move towards them.

  ‘Hey!’ I call, once I get in hearing distance of them and they turn to my voice. Both men are wearing black slacks and black t-shirts that stretch across their taut young bodies. They can’t be more than twenty-five and were incredibly good looking, something they were completely aware of and something I wondered whether was a necessity to work in a club of this calibre.

  ‘Hi, can I help you?’ The blonde one calls over, his gaze taking me in slowly from my toes up the length of my body to my arched eyebrow, which is where his grin splits.

  ‘I have an appointment with Ben Taylor,’ I announce, maybe a little snootily.

  ‘English?’ The brown haired one asks as if he needs confirmation other than my very English accent.

  ‘You think?’ I respond, sarcastically.

  He grins, ‘English and feisty!’

  I roll my eyes as I hear a voice behind me, one edged with irritation. ‘I don’t pay you to flirt with the women, Justin.’

  ‘Sure, Mr T,’ Justin, evidently not fazed by his boss’s comment, grins at me again before turning back to stocking the bar.

  I twist to face the deep, velvety voice and have to force my mouth from falling open at the scene before me. There was no denying, up close the man was stunning. He was huge, he was imposing, and he held an aura that suggests arrogance. My gaze continued up his body to his intent blue stare, to find his eyes are regarding me impassively, if not a little suspiciously.

  I take a breath in and introduce myself. ‘Oh, hello, Mr Taylor,’ I hold out my hand, politely, ‘we haven’t met,’ I plaster a polite smile on my face, ‘I’m Sasha, Lydia’s sister. Cam asked me to drop in to see you about possible employment.’ My voice is perfectly even, thankfully, despite my overwhelming desire to just stand and take in his beauty.

  He takes my outstretched hand and holds it firm as his eyes move learnedly over my features, without saying a word in return. I try to extract my hand from his grip, and he holds it tight for an extra second before releasing it to drop at my side. The silence makes me uncomfortable, and for a split second, I wonder whether he has changed his mind, or even knew of my existence.

  ‘Look, if the job is no longer available, I understand,’ I babble, avoiding his penetrating gaze that has me tingling, in places I have no right.

  ‘It’s available,’ he states abruptly, before glancing over my shoulder at the barmen that I just know is listening and watching avidly. His voice is smooth and silky almost stroking over my skin, leaving it prickling with alertness. ‘Come to the office,’ he orders, as he turns without ensuring I follow.

  I follow.

  As we walk to the opposite side of the bar area, my eyes drop to his pert butt, for a hunk of a man I doubt there is an inch of fat over his entire body. I knew from Liddy that military men were fanatical about fitness, Liddy used to complain about the amount of time Cam spent in the gym before the kids came along, now she encourages it notifying me that the pro definitely out wins the cons. She does this with a dreamy smile on her face that I just know is about sex.

  His legs wrapped in expensive black slacks, and his broad shoulders draped in a long-sleeved white shirt. The sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if he was interrupted working at his desk. I follow like a lamb when he jogs up a stairway and into a corridor, before entering an open doorway to a huge office.

  ‘Please sit,’ he purrs, pointing to a sofa to the left of his ebony desk.

  ‘Thank you,’ I mumble, feeling a bit intimidated by his indifference.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ My mouth is dry, and I could do with a drink, but I assume he needs to crack on with what he was doing before my arrival, so I thankfully decline. I glance over at the various screens that sit opposite his desk and realise how he knew of my entry to the club.

  ‘Okay,’ he takes a seat opposite me, his clear blue eyes finding mine, ‘obviously, I am aware of the situation with Liddy, I’ve spoken to Cam and agreed to leave things flexible.’ His no-nonsense attitude confirms what I thought, and he is in a rush to rid of me and probably only offered the position to be supportive to Cam. ‘You need to be with Liddy, you notify me, and I’ll change the rota. I know this week is a hard week,’ the words he utters are the right words to say to someone in my position, and yet the way he speaks them are unemotional, detached, which irritates me. ‘Why are you frowning?’ He stops mid-conversation.

  I consciously wipe my face of all expression, not realising I was wearing my annoyance on my features, Liddy always laughed at how easy my face was to read and told me on many occasions that it gave away my innermost intimate thoughts.

  ‘Please, carry on,’ I indicate with my hand for him to continue.

  His eyes narrow slightly before continuing, ‘as I say, I know this week is a hard week, so shall we start you on Saturday night? From what I gather, Cam is working days Saturday, so will be around to put the children to bed. How does that work for you?’ His gaze hits mine and holds, as he waits for an answer.

  I was so busy pondering at how pretty his eyes were, blue, piercing and sexy as fuck that I almost forget he is sitting waiting patiently for my reply. I have to concentrate hard to remember the question, feeling my cheeks heat in embarrassment at my obvious distraction before I clear my throat. Something flickers in his stare, something that looks distinctly like amusement, which only encourages more heat and humiliation to trickle through me.

  ‘Erm, yeah I think Saturday will be okay,’ I sit upright, attempting to appear indifferent, ‘We are expecting Lydia home by the weekend, so it will be good for them to spend some time together as a family, especially after the week they would have had.’ I agree, avoiding the pull of his intent gaze.

  ‘Great,’ he tilts his head and regards me closely, almost forcing me to keep eye contact. ‘You look different,’ he comments, offhand.

  ‘Different?’ I repeat, ‘to what?’

  ‘To the photos, I’ve seen around Cams, and the brief glimpse of you I saw on the laptop,’ he announces.

  ‘Oh,’ I mumble, not knowing quite how to respond to his statement. I almost ask him how different but decided against it not knowing if I want to know or not. Maybe he thinks I look older, fatter or uglier. I run my eyes over his facial features, deciding he doesn’t seem much different in real life, only broader and more handsome. His penetrating stare begins to make me squirm in my seat and my stomach tips at the way he is looking at me.

  ‘Erm, are we done?’ I arch an eyebrow in question.

  His lips tilt up as if he is not only aware he is making me feel uneasy but is enjoying the experience. ‘I thought I would show you around,’ he stands, and I follow his lead, ‘it will make it less daunting for you at the weekend. If you come in a bit earlier one of the girls will show you what’s what. Cam tells me you have done a stint of bar work before so it shouldn't come as much of a surprise.’

  ‘That’s great, thank you and thank you for giving me this chance,’ I mumble, graciously.

  ‘Not a problem, Sasha,’ his use of my name gives me a strange feeling inside.

  We wander down to the bar area, wher
e Ben introduces me to the two barmen and a few other staff members that are in another area of the club. Everyone seems friendly enough, even the girls that are just arriving to prepare for the evening shift. I am shown to the staff room and given a locker key to stow my belongings when I come on Saturday. Ben asks one of the girls, an attractive smiley blonde called Lou, to take me under her wing and show me the ropes before walking me back out to the central bar area.

  ‘Okay, well, thank you again,’ I politely hold out my hand and watch Ben’s eyes drop to glance at it before his lips lift to an almost smile.

  ‘Fuck if you English aren’t totally adorable,’ he mutters, before taking my hand in his, ‘relax, Sasha, formalities are over. Cam and Liddy are good friends of mine, family even, that makes you family too.’

  I am surprised by his admission, not to mention confused. One moment he is standoffish and the next he is almost laughing at me for being English, and calling me family.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ I pull my hand away and push it behind me and in the back pocket of my jeans to keep it from bursting into flames from the heat of his grasp. ‘Well, I’ll see you Saturday,’ I call before turning and moving in a way that would get me out of the door in record time without it looking as if I am rushing to get out of the door. I feel his eyes on me for the duration, but I refuse to glance back as I sashay out of Honour and into the Denver daylight.

  ********

  The week was harder than any of us had expected. The kids were great until mummy wasn’t there to take them to school and neither Cam or I did Kristen’s hair like mummy did it, or put the right amount of peanut butter in Blake’s lunchbox, despite Cam being a hands-on kind of dad. It became evident as soon as day one of Liddy’s disappearance was over, and the novelty of Aunty Sasha wore off that Liddy kept the household going.

  Cam was impatient with the kid’s unusual demands, he was worried about his wife and was entitled to be irritated, but all this did, was make the kids even harder to handle. I loved my niece and nephew to death but was struggling to keep their minds on things other than their mum having a major operation. Liddy had already instructed both Cam and me that she didn’t want the kids to see her straight after the surgery when she’d be drowsy and in pain. Kristen took this as a personal insult and kicked off stomping to her room and crying that her mummy would want to see her and we were keeping her away from her. Blake just went quiet and moody, directing a death stare to his dad before going in search of his sister.

  I tried to explain to Blake, when I tucked him into bed, the reason behind Liddy forbidding the kids visiting on the night of her operation, but he was obviously worried and wanted to see for himself that she was okay. I understood how he felt, I was itching to see Liddy, more than life itself, but knew I had to stay behind with the children and let Cam be with his wife.

  When Cam returned home, he looked pale and tired. My heart squeezed for him, watching the woman you love in a hospital hooked up to tubes and hardly conscious, which is what he shared he found, must be heart-breaking. Although I desperately wanted to make sure she was okay, a part of me was grateful that I didn’t see her in that state.

  The following day, while the kids were at school, Cam and I went to visit my sister. My heart was thumping in my chest as I walked through the hospital doors, my stomach knotting at the scene I knew I was going to face. I’d seen it enough at the hospital where I worked, but to know it’s your flesh and blood was an entirely different setup. Lydia looked so poorly. Her usual bright hazel eyes were almost black, the anaesthetic and drugs taking their toll, her face was pale and the smile she tried to provide to reassure me, was far from real.

  I sat with her and assured her the kids were okay and we chatted about their upcoming week and the after-school activities that they needed to be at, although we both knew there was a huge calendar on the kitchen wall with every detail I needed to know about their schedule for the next week or so.

  When the surgeon arrived to chat with Liddy about the operation, I offered to leave, but Cam insisted I stay and hear how the procedure went for myself. The surgeon told us they believe they caught all of the cancer, but took out some lymph nodes to be analysed just in case. The relief almost floored me, but I stayed for another hour before leaving Liddy in the care of her husband. I held her delicate body gently and kissed her cheek before whispering in her ear, ‘be strong, Honey-bee,’ I saw her eyes fill with tears and her struggle to keep a hold on things.

  ‘I will, waspy,’ she sniffed, the pain evident in her gaze.

  I kissed Cam’s cheek and slipped out just as the tears fell freely down my cheeks. I would do anything for my big sister, including taking the pain away from her and her family.

  The tears blurred my vision as I walked blindly out of the hospital and directly into a massive boulder of a body, one that stood in front of me, a pair of hands grasping my arms firmly, but gently.

  ‘Sasha?’ I looked up to see Ben gazing down at me; his gorgeous blue eyes were serious and probing, his voice surprisingly quiet, almost a hiss in question. I wipe hastily at the tears as I meet his hard stare. ‘You okay, darlin’?’ His voice was warm and comforting, the endearment welcoming.

  I nod, but his unexpected warmth only encouraged the tears to continue to fall. I drop my head as I tried to get a lock on my uncontrollable emotions.

  ‘Is Liddy, okay?’ both his hands move up to cup my jaw, bringing my eyes to his anxious ones.

  ‘They think they got it all,’ I falter, ‘but she looks so bad,’ I hiccup.

  I watch as his shoulders physically relax, ‘that’s good, Sasha,’ he reminds me, wiping softly at the tears on my cheeks with his thumbs. I nod, blindly, unable to speak in fear of sobbing all over his perfect self. ‘Come on, let’s get you a coffee,’ one of his hands moves around and grasps my nape, the other drops as he directs me further into the car park and towards his low-slung Audi. He opens the door and waits until I fold inside.

  It isn’t until he is sitting beside me that I wonder to myself how he folds himself in the vehicle with such grace, being the size that he is, and it’s then I remember I have my sister’s car in a parking space a few yards away. ‘I have Lydia’s car,’ I mutter.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll drop you back to collect it, later,’ he expertly glides the car out of the busy car park and into the traffic.

  It’s then I realise how ridiculous I feel for falling apart in front of my new boss. ‘I’m sorry, please, I’ll be fine, just drop me off somewhere,’ I ask, grappling around in my bag for a tissue and pulling down the sun visor to access the mirror and mop up the disaster that is my make-up. I make a mental note to invest in some waterproof mascara, as I clean up the residue from my cheeks.

  ‘Sasha, relax,’ he says for the second time in a few days. ‘Nobody expects you to be less than you are, especially when someone you love is in the hospital fighting an incredibly aggressive disease.’ His lips thin and his jaw tightens in what looks like impatience, ‘give yourself a break.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur, not exactly sure what I am apologising for?

  He looks over at me and sighs deeply, before saying. ‘No, I’m sorry for snapping. No one can blame you for being uptight. There’s a lot of things going on around you, right now.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I lay my head back against the headrest, fatigue shrouding me. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I was so worried about Liddy and her family.

  We pull up at a diner, ‘come on, let’s get a drink and something to eat, I could do with a break myself,’ Ben encourages, as he switches off the ignition. By the time he climbs out and walks around the vehicle, I am already out and standing by the entrance. ‘I was going to get your door,’ he grabs my tiny hand in his huge one and gently tugs me towards the diner.

  ‘I’m quite capable of opening a door,’ I mumble, moodily. All I want to do is go home, shut the door and have a real cry before the kids come back. I am fed up with being strong, of pretending that everything is g
oing to be okay when I don’t know that for sure.

  ‘Jesus, woman, I’m trying to help,’ he growls under his breath. I let it go, only because I am exhausted and can’t be bothered to argue the point.

  We order coffee and Ben asks whether I want anything to eat, I tell him no because right now I’m not sure my stomach can take anything. Selfishly, one thing that keeps focusing on my mind is that if anything happens to Lydia, I will be left alone. I stare into my coffee, not engaging in conversation with Ben, who on closer inspection looks as if he feels the same. Despite my objection, he had ordered two muffins with our coffee, but neither of us had attempted even to nibble them.

  ‘Are you okay?’ It suddenly occurs to me that Ben seems as distracted like me.

  ‘My grandfather is also in the hospital,’ he announces, lifting his blue eyes, which appear more stormy grey than blue right now, to mine.

  It then hits me that I had been so in my head and misery, I hadn’t considered why Ben was actually at the hospital. I guess, on some level, I assumed he was there to see my sister.

  ‘I’m sorry, how is he doing?’ I ask, guilt and concern filling my gut with the knowledge that I have probably taken him away from visiting his grandfather.

  ‘Not good,’ he announces, blandly. ‘I’ve been there all night, I drove home to shower, change and try to get a few hours’ sleep,’ he explains.

  ‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Ben,’ that’s the first time I have used his name. ‘Please go,’ I wave a hand, frantically. ‘Go back to the hospital, I will get a cab or something, honestly,’ I panic.

  ‘To be honest, I could do with a coffee and a minute, myself,’ he admits, flicking his fingers dismissively at my suggestion.

  ‘Okay,’ I soothe, feeling terrible for only thinking about myself. After a few minutes of what seems like companionable silence, I ask. ‘Your grandfather got cancer?’

  ‘Yeah, lung,’ he stares down at his fingers grasped around his coffee cup.