by J. S. Badham
“How much longer you got?”
Andrew, who usually sat across from Susan-the-office-gossiper, stood ahead of her as he swung his ID pass between his fingers. Claire replied shortly, “Ages.”
“Ah, really?” he complained, stomping his left foot on the floor as he leaned back. “The other one is still being repaired. Oh, well.” He sighed, lifting his ginger, fair brows. “Just hold it for me when you finish. I don’t want another bugger getting it before me. I would wait, but I must send a couple of emails to some clients. Be a darling and hold it for me?” Andrew could have had a bloody knife between his fingers and yet she’d still say yes to him. He had this award-winning puppy face that just accentuated his adorable smile, and the dozen odd freckles he had made him only appear more juvenile. It did make her feel all protective, like she was cradling a puppy in her arms, threatened by the intimidating world.
“Okay,” she exhaled, giving a thumbs up as she leaned back onto the machine. “I’ll just wave you over when I’m done.”
“Thanks, Claire. You’re a star,” he said, smiling as he began to turn on his heel. “Oh, do you know where that fella went? Zack? I figured you know ’cause he’s your roommate, isn’t he? I’m just curious. After all, he is missing work. He got the man flu or something? Susan had a bet he secretly is following Monica all the way to Milan, like he’s going to offer his services when the old man can’t. Because boy, I don’t have a clue on how she’s going to manage that old bag pushing his weight onto her.” Andrew snorted.
Claire pressed her lips tightly together, wishing she could have dodged a question like this. “I actually don’t know where he is. He…moved out recently,” she lied, her eyes looking at the floor rather than his face. “I think he just didn’t like the job.”
“Ah, really? That sucks. He was good to talk to. And I’m not gonna lie but…” Andrew paused as he stepped forward. “But if I was gay, I’d totally have a mean crush on the guy. He was just so intimidating and confident, a real man,” he whispered, nodding as he pulled back. “Well, I better go send those emails. Again, thanks, Claire.” Before he headed on over to the far blocks, Claire could see he’d immediately transferred the information to Susan. That woman just had a knack for snooping her nose into everything.
After retrieving the copies from the machine and then holding it for Andrew to take over, Claire was just about exhausted as she headed for lunch. She had about seven emails that needed to be addressed, an incomplete design sent to her from a co-worker who meekly asked for her help, and a paragraph that was at a deadline, which needed to be assessed for grammatical errors before it could be sent off towards the publishers. Being in the Sales and Marketing department for three years, not once had Claire been this sloppy on getting her work done. Now, she was making a sloth look as fast as Usain Bolt.
Her day got even worse when her favourite café ran out of her preferred baguette filling of spicy meatballs. The ham and cheese sandwich just did not look appetising as she fiddled with the tissue under it at one of the single two-man tables. What next? She’d forget her bag, leave it here for a lucky thief to take? She could only hope her coffee was still piping hot.
Claire glanced outside, observing the swarm of people passing by just out of boredom until she swore she caught sight of Zack passing hastily by. Without needing a reason to remain seated, she grabbed her bag and jogged out the café, swerving through the several people heading in as she exited the establishment.
Outside was a different story, and without at least being six feet tall, she couldn’t see a damn thing. “Zack!” she dared to shout, pushing through the crowd as she scanned each possible male, hoping it would be him.
“Zack!”
“Hey, lady, watch where you’re going!” a man barked as she accidentally bumped into him.
Without bothering to stop and apologise, she pushed on, eventually seeing a peek of black tousled hair through the gap of people, where he had stopped ahead at the curb waiting for the traffic lights to give pedestrians permission to cross. “Zack!” she called again, hoping somehow he would hear and turn around. At once, she shot away from the crowd and headed straight for him.
“Zack, Zack…I’m—” She tapped his shoulder to get his attention.
But when the man turned around, he was not a in any way similar to Zack.
“Can I help you?”
Claire shook her head. “Sorry, I—sorry.” Then she turned back, taking only a single glance as she watched the man blink in confusion and continue with his day as he crossed the road. She felt suddenly more alone, trapped, and it didn’t help as people shoved and pushed by as she stood in the middle of the path, frozen.
By the time she reached her department floor, her lunch hour was officially over, and just as she expected, Graves, who was one to usually make his inspection, caught her exiting the lift.
“Claire.” He shook his head. “I didn’t expect this tardy behaviour from you. I’m going to have to warn you by recording this on your file as late.”
Claire didn’t breathe a word as she slouched over to her desk where even with the threat of deadlines nagging her, she remained inattentive. Everything was just going to hit the fan.
Chapter Eighteen
In the space of two weeks, a lot of shit had happened. If somebody had told Zack that he’d be actually eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s as he moped over the current situation with Claire, he would have laughed. It would have seemed impossible for the old Zack who knew only that a woman in his bed was the night’s comfort.
But this shit was actually happening. He was actually stuffing his mouth with vanilla ice cream, scooping it out with the large metal spoon that was ideally supposed to be used for dishing out large portions of meals like lasagna, not ice cream.
“You know you have over seventeen voicemails on your phone?” Kyle expressed, regarding the flashing alerts springing onto Zack’s mobile phone that sat on the side table. Zack dismissed the comment, shovelling another mouthful of ice cream as he simultaneously turned up the sound on the television.
“Zack?” Kyle repeated, responding to Zack’s ignorance. “Oi, dickhead!” He threw a cushion against his shoulder, hoping that it would do the trick to gather Zack’s full attention.
“What?” he snapped, placing his ice cream to the side. “I really don’t want to hear it, Kyle. It can stay with over seventeen notifications. I really couldn’t give a fuck. Now, will you shut up and let me watch my action movie in peace? I’m going to miss the best part again because of you.” Sitting himself back, he kicked his feet onto the coffee table ahead.
“Well, what if it’s important? What if she needs you?” Kyle persisted, ignoring Zack’s previous comment. Kyle was no idiot. He could see that his friend was upset, and as much as he would have liked to rejoice in a bitching session about the woman, he also knew that Claire was someone who made Zack happy. It had to be a mistake.
“I doubt that, Kyle. You know if I needed a therapist, I would have called one, but I don’t,” Zack bitterly said. “We’re not discussing that name ever again. I’m over it. You should be happy; we can hit the clubs like we used to. I can bring whoever back and I won’t have to worry about being tied down.” His tone was assertive, which scared Kyle the most.
“I’m not happy about that, Zack. And you can’t think it’s over. It has to be a silly mistake,” Kyle objected, shaking his head before he lifted the can of cider to his lips. “I—” He paused before he took a sip. “I don’t want to see you so unhappy, Zack. You need Claire and she needs you. Bullshit on what she preached the other day.” Then he took a long swig.
“I hate that I fell in love,” Zack muttered, running his hands slowly through his hair. “It has just caused trouble. So just shut up with all your love bullshit. I don’t want to hear it,” he warned, and for the rest of Monday night, that was that. He didn’t want to hear her, speak to her, or see her again.
Funny how one person could change your life. He was so
used to that high-life—the one that knew no limits—and until he fell in love, he thought having the freedom to be with whoever and do whatever wouldn’t be possible if he was tied in a relationship. Zack was proved wrong on that. But now he wasn’t so sure. Nothing made sense. He couldn’t even be sure if Claire actually loved him anymore. That night when she told him she didn’t care, didn’t need him or want him, frightened him. It was that possibility that he was more than alone. It pushed fear through his veins. He had admitted to someone besides his mother that he loved someone, and to have it thrown back in his face destroyed him.
Zack had always used women. There was no sugar-coating that. When he wanted that woman who was shimmying her hips in the nightclub or deliberately grinding her body upon him, he used her. No matter if he was intoxicated or sober, he saw fit that there were mutual feelings even before hitting the bed that they were using one another for that moment’s affection. But that was a terrifying thought now. It was sensible to think that he really was alone. And not once had he dared given a thought to if that other person fell for him. It never crossed his mind. It just wouldn’t make sense to tie himself down. So, like he had done many times, he’d left or told them to when things became complicated.
How strange things had changed. With Claire, he had grown with confidence on sharing his feelings, allowing himself to be entirely exposed and given to this mad thing called love. But now part of him felt lost and fearful without Claire. He didn’t know how to handle love. What was he supposed to do with it now? It scared him because it made him more vulnerable. No question about it.
He wasn’t going to listen to those voicemails; he wasn’t going allow himself to be broken any further, for he was too afraid to succumb to emotion. He needed to reacquaint himself with his old self. Forget Claire. Move on. Come to think of it, he had the power to physically detach Claire, but he wouldn’t do that. Heck, he had the money to force her to move herself out of his life, but he couldn’t. For now, he had to focus on work, focus on himself, and work on bettering himself in the world he was a part of. He couldn’t live a life like he’d had, and he would have to learn to grow up, tackle the real world. By the end of this week, the magazine would be out; it would confirm his place as CEO, rid all those weak stories on his romantic affairs, and instead concrete him as a real man of business. No messing about. He couldn’t dally any longer with triviality. Claire had made it clear. She wasn’t a part of his life.
***
Tuesday had been a little simpler. Zack was a little more convinced he was regaining that old part of him. He had woken up refreshed, determined, and ready to face the world. He’d made it clear to Kyle last night that such things shouldn’t be spoken around him and had made the man promise that tonight they would venture out to the club, creating peace in his mind.
As for today, he had to remain hidden from work. He wanted to reveal his true identity to the department he’d been undercover with by Thursday, and then he could go back to his world properly. He had yet to organise a final meeting, one that he wanted his father to be included in to see his development in full swing. The sustainable homes he had vouched for were underway, and construction had been given word as early as this morning, providing a few paycheques already from those clients who desired to be in sustainable living. Wednesday would be the finale; it would be the moment he’d weaken his father. Why? Olivia had already pitched him a few comments on the project from the analysts on this moment’s success rate. He had the project in the bag, and despite previous remarks on how it would only achieve half, it seemed more successful than they thought. Some would say Zack’s exhilaration was out of denial, but to him, he was feeling like a man who had a grip on the world.
Every step felt lighter; he felt entirely more pleased when he glanced at the man looking right back at him in the mirror. He looked confident as someone he’d remembered seeing only a few months back being. There looked like there was no weakness. How odd that one night suddenly made an abrupt difference.
Zack trekked downstairs, self-assured with his progress as he poured himself coffee brewed by his maid, who’d returned from her holiday only yesterday. The flavour tickled his taste buds as he gasped with delight, closing his eyes as he wondered if he’d been cured from the madness that was love and been gifted to his old self.
He was more energetic, collecting his phone and keys and stuffing them in his suit jacket. He didn’t even give a second glance to the several more notifications on his screen joining those that remained unheard. Zack even managed a spring in his step towards the front door as he headed into the lift to the underground garage.
It was there he was greeted with the two rows of cars, each one with their own personality and style, that he became only more indulged in happiness as he stroked the bonnet of his red Lamborghini.
“I’ll think I’ll take you for a ride for today.” He smiled to himself as he drew over to the cabinet and retrieved the keys to the car he’d selected. Something oddly bizarre was going on, but for all he cared, he wasn’t complaining about this joy.
The drive to work was also carefree. The radio station was playing his favourite songs, traffic lights appeared to always remain on green, and there was no congestion as he pulled up behind his establishment, dodging any unwanted attention. He still had to play it safe until all could be revealed.
Stepping out of his car and locking it effortlessly, Zack exhaled, pleased that he was radiating self-assurance and boldly making a stance on his two feet. He could have skipped inside the building, but instead, still on that similar vibe, he took long strides to the confidential lift installed at the back. He could even vouch how terribly vain he felt, the natural sexiness and his expensive navy blue suit accompanied with his charming smile. At this rate, he felt like he could own the world.
“Good morning, Olivia,” Zack announced as he entered his office. “Make record that there is to be a meeting in relation to the project’s development, and I require the attendance of the one and only Elijah Benson for tomorrow in the glass conference room. Also, if you could be a doll and grab me a coffee, that would be great. Thank you.” He entered his complex office that appeared to be collecting dust since he’d been gone.
Taking hostage of the leather desk chair, Zack flopped himself in it, smiling as he turned it around and wheeled it to the large glass windows. He could breathe. Smell. Taste. And from today, he had the right to not give a damn.
Around three o’clock in the afternoon, Zack was still burning on those fumes. He was still energetic, not an ounce of sadness as he left the board room, finalising entirely the transfer of cash towards his project. He was heading for home, knowing he couldn’t do a lot more than risk showing his face and so was satisfied he could take an early trip out.
Heading down the stairs rather than taking the lift and feeling more than ever in shape, he took the long descent, knowing that he had far to go but wasn’t allowing anything of the sort to rain on his parade.
Around the eighth floor, but he wasn’t exactly certain, Zack, who was entirely zoned out, remained oblivious to somebody shouting out his name.
“Zack!” someone cried out. He could hear frantic footsteps chasing him downstairs. “Zack, please. Stop!” Wheezing for breath, he refused to stop. It was only when a hand clamped down on his shoulder that he turned and the confidence he felt dispersed as quickly as he felt he regained it this morning.
Claire, who was struggling to hold her breath, sniffled as she wiped away the wet tears from her cheeks as she exhaled with desperation. “P-please, Zack. Why wouldn’t you stop? You haven’t answered my calls.”
Zack bit down on his tongue, feeling that overwhelming tide of wreckage fatally overcoming him. Instead, he chose to crush it, dismissing her anguish as he calmly said, “Miss Winter, you need to be careful running downstairs. You could get hurt. It’s Mr. Benson or sir to you. You better be getting back to your work. Otherwise you’ll be faced with disciplinary action. I wouldn’t want to hav
e to page Mr. Graves. Excuse me.” He slid past her.
“What?” Claire gaped, blinking as she tried to grip onto his arm. “Zack, what are you talking about? Zack!” she cried, watching as he refused to answer and continued hurriedly downstairs, accompanied with a whistle of tune. “Zack! Zack!”
It must be a sign of madness salvaged from the thought of denial. That part of him that wanted to hear her, hold her, kiss her, and have every part of her was trying hard to free itself, but for some apparent reason, Zack refused to allow himself to be vulnerable.
Claire couldn’t understand what happened; she couldn’t even push herself to carry on as she refused to believe that the man she loved had dismissed her entirely. He’d looked her in the eyes and treated her like a stranger. She had been out on the stairwell, exactly at the place where she and Zack shared their first kiss, that instant moment where sparks flew. She’d been there about ten minutes, moping, until she saw him coming downstairs, oblivious to her presence until she’d captured his arm. And now, he’d left without a word of anger, consolation, or love. It was like he was lost, entirely gone.
Her fault. She’d completely broken him. She could see that now. Claire wished he’d shown anger, cursed at her, or spoke a few words of dismay and not entirely washed her away. But that’s what she did, wasn’t it? Only she’d wounded the man.
Helpless, Claire fell to her knees, sobbing as she pushed her hand up against her face. What was she supposed to do? How was she going to fix this?
***
Kyle was hesitant as he picked up Zack from his penthouse, wary that his friend wasn’t exactly behaving his “normal” self. It was proved by how he’d watched Zack unashamedly flirt with Kyle’s female helicopter instructor earlier this afternoon. He’d had no guilt pushing back a strand of hair or whispering intimately against her ear.
He didn’t want to take him out tonight. He was afraid he’d do something he’d regret, so he had Jared tag along, who was also voicing the same concern as soon as he saw the overly thrilled behaviour his brother was flaunting.