by RB Hilliard
“Now that you mention it, all I had for lunch was a power bar.”
“Do you like spaghetti? I’m trying out a new recipe where instead of noodles you use cauliflower.”
It sounded really gross but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “It sounds great,” I lied, again.
“Liar,” she laughed. She opened the door and ushered me in. “Dinner will be ready in five. Want a beer?”
“I could definitely use a beer. Thanks.”
Dinner was great. Who knew cauliflower smothered in spaghetti sauce and sprinkled with parmesan cheese could taste so good? When I realized Cathryn wasn’t going to mention the pool incident, I finally began to relax. After dinner I helped her clean dishes and she asked if I wanted to hang out for a bit. I didn’t hang out with women, I fucked them. For some reason I wanted to make an exception, though. Against my better judgement, I decided to stay. As usual, Cathryn was easy to talk to and I thoroughly enjoyed her company. After discussing the details of my trip to Winston, we talked about my live music issue at Whisky’s.
“I don’t see the problem,” she said.
“I only want the best,” I explained.
“I’m sure Charlotte has plenty of untapped talent. Why don’t you ask your friend from the Army who sings. What’s his name?”
“Dillon.”
“That’s right. Why did he leave, again?”
“He wanted to be manager and I wasn’t ready to hire one yet. I knew Blake was coming home and thought I could handle it until he arrived. I got cocky, Dillon quit and I was left holding the bag. He’s part owner of Dragonfly now.”
“Dragonfly?”
Sometimes I forgot she’d only been in Charlotte a month. “Dragonfly is the bar that hired Dillon out from under me. I consider them my main competition. I should take you over there sometime.”
“Somehow I doubt their main competitor paying them a visit would be well received,” she laughed.
“Well, after the damage Isabella, Sally and their friends did to Whisky’s, they owe me.” At the mention of Sally’s name Cathryn’s smile fell and I felt like shit. I tried to think of something to say but words failed me.
She beat me to the punch when she quietly said, “I’m sorry about last night, Zane. I shouldn’t have watched.”
“No, don’t apologize. I’m the one who is sorry. We shouldn’t have been out there where the whole world could see.”
Her eyes lifted to mine and I had no clue what was going on in her head. It bothered me more than I cared to admit. “So… Sally is your girlfriend?” she asked.
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell her that I was going insane thinking about her and Sally meant nothing. I wanted to tell her they all meant nothing but I couldn’t. Instead I said, “Sally is a good friend.” A confused look appeared on her face and I knew it was time to go. “Thank you for dinner, Cathryn. You’re a great cook.” I stood and offered her my hand. After a slight hesitation she took it, and I pulled her to her feet. Once we reached the door, I leaned in to kiss her cheek. At the same time she turned to say something and our lips touched. For a second I froze. Don’t do it, I thought. Before I could pull back I felt her tongue lick across the seam of my mouth and all reservation went flying out the door. Cupping her face in my hands I kissed her like I’d been wanting to for weeks. She tasted like beer and honey and I wanted to drown in her. But I couldn’t because, even though it felt so right, it was wrong. So, with great reluctance, I ended the kiss and walked away. Instead of making things better, I had just made them exponentially worse.
Way to go, jack ass.
Chapter Thirteen
Cathryn
‡
Good Lord the man can kiss. I rubbed my fingers over my lips and smiled. Zane kissed me. Okay, so I kissed him but who’s counting? The fact is he kissed me back and boy oh boy, it was so much better than I’d imagined. I thought about the kiss while I discarded the empty beer bottles. I thought about the kiss while I got ready for bed. I thought about the kiss as I nestled down into my pillows and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I woke up still on cloud nine. As I lay in bed thinking about the kiss, which was all I could think about, it hit me. I have serious feelings for this man. I sat up and stared at the bathroom door.
“When did this happen?” I asked out loud.
My mind raced ninety to nothing. What should I do? Ignore it? Tell him? Quit? I didn’t want to quit. I liked working for Zane. For the first time in my life I looked forward to each day. Should I talk to him about my feelings? I know he feels something for me, that much is obvious but to what degree? I flopped back on my bed and sighed. Who am I kidding? Zane Mitchell is my boss. Reality check, Cathryn. Not two days ago you stood at your window and watched a poolside fellatio fest. The week before that you sang Eye of The Tiger to the sound of him banging the decorator. Ugh, I need to have my head examined. After another fifteen minutes of trying not to think about the kiss that I clearly couldn’t stop thinking about, I threw back the covers, snagged my robe off the foot of the bed and headed for the bathroom.
Forty minutes later I was dressed to kill and ready to conquer. As usual, I let myself into Zane’s apartment. I could hear the rumble of his deep voice coming from his office and was surprised he was up so early. Not wanting to interrupt his call, I veered to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. I giggled as I sprinkled cinnamon in the coffee grounds. One day I would tell him my secret. While waiting for the coffee to brew, I cleaned up the kitchen. Zane wasn’t overly messy but he was definitely a single man living alone. I filled his cup and carried it out of the kitchen. His office door was cracked, so I toed it open with the tip of my shoe and slipped inside.
“My assistant?” he asked, and I froze. “She’s working out well.” I smiled and stepped further into the room. “No, she’s definitely not Bethany,” he laughed, and again I froze. “Well, let me put it to you this way, Cathryn is extremely dependable but utterly forgettable.” He followed it with a loud laugh. My heart shriveled in my chest. I stared down at the cup of coffee in my hand. For a second I considered flinging it at him but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words hurt. Instead, I quietly stepped from his office, set the coffee cup on the dining room table and walked out the front door.
I managed to keep my tears at bay until I was back in my apartment and then I let them flow. “Utterly forgettable” played like a bad song through my head. Plugging my ears with my fingers I sank to the floor. Why, why, why? I asked myself over and over. Blake told me I wasn’t Zane’s type. Why didn’t I listen? Why? Placing my fingers over my lips, I thought about the kiss and laughed. I actually thought I was special. No, you’re just utterly forgettable. Never, in my whole life, even when my mother said horrible things to me before she left the second time, did words hurt this much. The vibration of my phone ringing in my pants pocket startled me and I sat up and checked the time. Crap! I was forty-five minutes late. What do I do? I was a snotty, blubbering mess. I can’t face him like this. I’ll text him and tell him I’m sick. That should buy me some time. I pulled my phone from my pocket and, sure enough, I had a missed call and text from Zane.
Where are you?
I quickly responded: I am not feeling well this morning.
On my way to wash my face my phone dinged with another text from Zane. Are you okay? Can I bring you anything? How about some breakfast?
The last thing I wanted was to see him. I typed a quick, I’m running a fever and am contagious. I think it’s best if I just stay in bed and rest today.
He responded with: Okay but promise you’ll text if you need anything. I’ll take care of everything for you on this end. Feel better.
I stripped off my pants and top and crawled into bed. What do I do? I had two more weeks of my six month contract and then I was free to leave. You could always leave now, whispered through my mind. No, I can’t. It would be wrong to leave Zane in the lurch like that. Plus, how would I expla
in my sudden departure? I was mad because you thought I was forgettable and didn’t love me back? I may be hurt but I wasn’t stupid. I did this to myself. I could feel the tears building again. In order to do my job I was going to have to get past this. I wasn’t sure I could. What do I do? I thought about calling Blake but quickly decided against it. I wasn’t ready to hear him say I told you so. It was times like these I wished I wasn’t so alone. The fact that I was a loser with no friends made me cry all over again. Maybe I’ll call home? Needing the comfort of my father’s voice I dialed the home number. Of all days, Janna had to be the one to answer the phone.
“You’re upset, I can hear it in your voice” she stated.
Not wanting to get into it with her, I asked, “Is Dad home?”
“He is and I promise to put him on the phone after you talk to me,” she threatened.
Should I tell her about Zane? “I need you to promise not to tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, especially not Blake.”
“Of course I won’t tell.” She sounded offended.
“I mean it Janna. This isn’t like the time you told Ryan Sullivan’s mom I liked him or when you told Dad and Blake about Bill. This is serious.”
“Wait a minute, did you tell me not to tell anyone about Ryan or Bill, because if you did, I don’t remember. If you tell me not to tell, honey, I won’t.” The hurt in her voice cut deep. It wasn’t Janna’s fault Zane didn’t love me. I thought about it for a second and realized she was right. I didn’t tell her not to tell. I could feel the tears starting to well. All this time I had been frustrated with her big mouth and it was my fault, just like it was my fault for falling for Zane.
“I’m sorry, Janna, you’re right, I never told you not to tell,” I admitted, and then I burst into tears.
“Now, now, sweet girl, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Come on, stop crying and tell Momma Janna what has you so upset?” she coaxed.
Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop. I told her about my first encounter with Zane and how much of a good looking jerk he was. I told her everything, including seeing him in the buff. I explained how we connected when Zane was sick, and then how I saw him with Sally only a few short days later. I told her everything minus a few graphic details. I finished the story with last night’s kiss and what I overheard him say this morning. After a few seconds of silence I wondered if the connection had dropped.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” she responded, “I’m just absorbing it all. Give me a second.” Finally, she let out a deep sigh. “First of all, Zane Mitchell is clearly an idiot. Second, you are the most memorable person I know. Third, Zane Mitchell is clearly an idiot. Last, he clearly needs to get himself a male assistant.”
“This isn’t Zane’s fault, Janna, it’s mine,” I told her.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure Zane played his part and, after what happened with Beth, you would think the boy learned a lesson but noooooo.”
Her words made my stomach knot. “What do you mean after what happened with Beth? Blake told me they didn’t see eye to eye on how to manage Riverbend.”
“Yes, well, Blake wanted you to take the job and move to Charlotte,” she dryly stated.
“What happened between Zane and Beth, Janna?” I asked again.
“Now, keep in mind this came from Blake and we both know he leaves important information out-” she started to say.
“Tell me,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Apparently Zane slept with Beth and, when she wanted more, he all but kicked her out and forced her to quit,” she quickly said.
My jaw dropped. What? Oh my God! I was going to kill Blake! How could he not tell me this?
“But Blake said Beth took advantage of Zane,” she continued, “and you and I both know there are two sides to every story. I’m not saying her taking advantage of him warranted his sleeping with her and hurting her like that but…” her voice trailed off mid-sentence and then she quietly said, “You are not forgettable, Cathryn.”
I was done. I was done with this conversation. I was done with Blake and his half-truths. Most of all, I was done with Zane Mitchell. I didn’t have to quit because I no longer gave a shit.
I. Was. Done.
Chapter Fourteen
Zane
‡
Something is wrong. Why hasn’t Cathryn shown for work yet? I checked my watch for the hundredth time. She was ten minutes late. It wasn’t like her to be late. In fact, she hadn’t been late since that first morning. How long should I give her? I hated to say it but I was worried. Was she upset about last night’s kiss? I always think better after a cup of coffee. I pushed back from my desk and stood. Something didn’t feel right but I wasn’t sure what it was. My cell phone rang from somewhere in the apartment and I went in search of it. Hopefully it was Cathryn with an explanation. After several more rings, I finally discovered it sitting on the entry hall table. I must have left it there when I came in last night. The kiss replayed through my mind again as I lifted the phone to see who was calling. When I didn’t recognize the number, I silenced it and slipped it into my pocket. On my way past the dining room, I noticed a coffee cup sitting on the table. How did that get there? As I got closer, I realized the cup was full. What the hell? I placed my hand against the side of the cup and it was warm. Leaving it sitting on the table, I walked into the kitchen to check the coffee pot and, sure enough, it too, was full.
“Cathryn?” I called out. When I received no answer, I searched the apartment and came up empty. Clearly she had been here but she wasn’t any longer. Why did she leave? Better yet, where did she go? I checked the time. Forty-five after nine. Something must have happened. Now officially worried, I pulled out my phone and called her. It rang through to voicemail and I left her a message. When I didn’t hear back from her, I decided to text. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I got a response. Cathryn was sick. The night I’d spent hugging the toilet was one of the worst in my entire life. I texted and asked if she wanted me to bring her anything and was disappointed when she responded, “No.” I would make sure to check in on her later. For now I had to let the tenants know I was on duty instead of Cathryn today. The last thing she needed while feeling sick was to be bothered by work.
While waiting for the computer to boot up, I went to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. As I made my way back across my office, I noticed it was taking longer than usual for it to load. I rarely used my home office computer anymore. It was probably time to upgrade to a better model. Relaxing back in my chair, I took a sip of coffee. When prompted for my password, I punched it in and waited. Neatly alphabetized folders popped onto the screen. In the background, spanning the entire screen was a blown up picture of…Miss Weston. What the hell? I almost spit my coffee everywhere. Hair in curlers, wearing the same Muumuu as the day I snuck out the back and she chased me to my car, was a smiling Miss Weston. Clearly she had posed for the picture…a picture my devious assistant had taken. I thought back to the day Cathryn had accused me of sleeping with Miss Weston. It was funny then, but this, this was hilarious. Not able to contain it any longer, I started laughing. Once I started I couldn’t stop. My little PA was a nut.
Once I got my laughter under control and the picture off my screen, I focused on the task at hand. It appeared Cathryn had alphabetized my folders. And I thought I was the one with OCD. Cathryn had me beat by a mile in the anal retentive department. Clicking on the folder titled “Tenants”, I opened it. Inside was an Excel spreadsheet of all the tenants and their contact information. Also inside was a subfolder marked “List.” I clicked on it to see what it was. It was a collated list of the tenant’s email addresses. Miss Haines has been a busy bee. I don’t think Beth knew how to turn on a computer much less use it. I clicked the email icon in the upper right hand corner and, boom, the collated list of names was in my email folder and ready to send. All I had to do was type up the email. What else has Miss Haines been up to? I wondered.
Within two
hours of sending the email, practically every tenant had responded. Some wanted to send flowers, a few offered to make soup and one even offered to leave groceries outside Cathryn’s apartment door. Hell, Miss Weston offered to buy her a get well Muumuu. As much as I wanted to get Cathryn back for her earlier stunt, I didn’t think she would appreciate it, so I told Miss Weston to hold off until Cathryn was feeling better. I couldn’t resist hinting that Cathryn was especially fond of cats, though. It seemed our Miss Haines was beloved by all. How did I not know this?
Later that afternoon I texted to see if Cathryn needed anything. If need be I would take off from Whisky’s that night. She assured me she was feeling much better. Mr. Brass from apartment D stopped by and offered to help out. It was rare that anything happened at night, so I took him up on his offer and went to work, where I got absolutely nothing done. All I could think about was Cathryn. I kept imagining her passed out on her bathroom floor or something worse. When I texted her around ten and didn’t hear back from her, my worry escalated to fear. I had to check on her.
On the drive home I realized I was acting like a psycho and tried to calm down. What is it about this woman that makes me so crazy? I want to protect her, annoy her and fuck her all at the same time. It took everything in me to walk away from that kiss last night. Two wanks later and I was still hard for the woman. Now she’s sick and I am losing my mind. I pulled into my parking place and turned off my car. I wanted to go straight to her apartment. I needed to see for my own eyes she was okay. I pulled out my phone and checked to see if she’d answered my earlier text. If she hadn’t, I was going in. The text icon showed me I had a message. Please let it be her. Relief washed over me when I saw it was from Cathryn.