“Well, I’m sure it had something to do with Friday night,” Ryan barked, giving her a hateful look. “Now, tell me again what happened,” Ryan pushed, trying once again to find out what transpired after the party.
At that moment, the phone rang. “Sorry, duty calls,” Shannon said, picking up the receiver. “Premier Designs.” A small pause elapsed, then, “Yes, yes… can you hold for a moment, please?” She pushed a hold button and turned her attention to Ryan. “This will take a while. You should get ready for your interview because you look a little rumpled.” She smiled sweetly, giving Ryan a dismissive look, then went back to her phone call.
“Hey, Mom, how are you doing?” Shannon said as Ryan walked away.
Ryan cursed beneath his breath, grudgingly trudging back to his office. He wanted Shannon’s version of what happened last Friday night. He still couldn’t believe he’d slept with her. But then again, he did wake up naked in her bed. Something went down.
He paced the Oriental rug in front of his oak desk, thinking about his upcoming interview. When the managerial position was first announced, twenty-three people had applied. Two weeks later, the count had been narrowed to the top ten. And now it boiled down to two: Jason Patterson and Ryan Sinclair. Before Friday night, Ryan had felt certain he would be chosen. In fact, he considered his abilities to be far superior to Jason Patterson’s and had felt confident that he could beat him out without even having to put forth much effort. Then his whole world fell apart after that damned party.
Since that unfortunate night, Ryan had barely slept, and when he had succumbed to sleep, not one wink had been beside his beloved Hailey. It drove him crazy to think he had ruined his marriage. Then, just when Hailey magnanimously showed up to wish him good luck on his interview, he just happened to be at Shannon’s desk. Talk about bad timing. And, to make matters worse, Shannon went and made a senseless remark about his facial hair. No doubt about it, Ryan would have to shave it off if Hailey were to ever look at him again.
Ryan couldn’t think of anything but Hailey. He’d walked the floor, ran his fingers through his hair, and after worrying himself to death, he had flopped on the couch, slumping from one uncomfortable position to the other, wrinkling his clothing in the process. Then suddenly, it was time for his interview.
“Mr. Campbell will see you now,” Phyllis, Mr. Campbell’s secretary, informed him after his phone had buzzed.
Ryan spritzed his mouth with breath spray, swung his jacket on, straightened his tie, and hurried down the hallway into Mr. Campbell’s large corner office which boasted a panoramic view of the downtown buildings and a westerly landscape along the Trinity River. After a few pleasantries, he took a seat in front of an antique mahogany desk and began his third interview. But in Ryan’s case, third time was not the charm.
“You look a mess, Sinclair. Your shirt’s coming out, those pants need to be pressed, your hair is standing straight up, and there are dark circles under your bloodshot eyes.” His boss leaned forward in his chair, his approximate weight of two-hundred-sixty-five pounds causing the chair to groan in protest. “Are you on drugs, Sinclair?”
“No, sir,” Ryan answered in a shocked tone. “I don’t do drugs. No, sir,” he repeated. He swiped a quick hand across the top of his head, hoping to smooth out his wild hair. Then he shifted his frame a bit in the burgundy-colored leather chair, attempting to nonchalantly tuck his shirt in. “My son’s been sick. It’s made for some sleepless nights,” he lied, trying to pull himself into a more upright position, followed by running a palm across his pants, hoping to smooth out some of the wrinkles.
“Sorry to hear,” Mr. Campbell said, running a hand over his receding hairline. Ryan took it that his hair was still standing up, so he mirrored his boss’s movements and ran another hand through his hair.
“Thank you, sir,” Ryan said, momentarily distracted by the gray hairs protruding from the old man’s ears.
Once the interview was underway, Ryan was first asked about the designs for the new hospital up in Kansas City. Initially, he could only give brief responses but knew he needed to get his mind back in the game
“Well, let’s see what you have for me?” Mr. Campbell requested, getting to the crux of the interview.
Ryan took a few moments to set up his presentation. Then he sucked in a long breath and launched into his spiel about the Clark Anders Development Center, a special needs school for the mentally challenged. This project had been Ryan’s baby and he had worked long and hard to make sure every intricate detail was taken into consideration.
Ryan knew his promotion hinged on delivering a well-presented architectural design. But as he began to describe the details and tried hard to concentrate, in truth, his mind remained a million miles away. At some point, he stopped talking and assumed he had finished with his pitch. A long silence passed, leaving Ryan’s mind to once again drift back to his marital problems.
Then a few moments later, Mr. Campbell asked, “Well?” His boss’s face turned into a question mark and his unmanicured bushy, graying brows spread out like two giant caterpillars inching their way across his forehead.
“Excuse me?” Ryan asked, choking on his own saliva after realizing he had been completely zoned out, his thoughts instead focused solely on Hailey. He was botching his interview, big time.
Mr. Campbell glared at him and leaned forward in his chair. “I asked how it was that you’ve presented the same design plans as Jason Patterson?” His gaze moved between the easels and screen presentations Ryan had been working through.
“What?” Ryan choked out, feeling his heart picking up speed.
“You’ve come in here with the exact model for the Clark Anders Development Center. This is the same presentation Patterson proposed earlier this morning.”
“No, it can’t be. These are my ideas.”
“I think I’ve heard enough,” Mr. Campbell said abruptly. “You’re not getting the job.”
“Please, sir, there must be some explanation.”
“I don’t want hear it. You’re not getting the job, Sinclair,” Mr. Campbell reiterated in a harsh voice. “And quite frankly, it’s a miracle I don’t fire you. Now get out of here before I change my mind,” he loudly threatened, his face turning red in the process.
“Yes sir. And thank you for the opportunity,” Ryan said, gathering his presentation materials and smooching his boss’s butt on the way out.
And that was the way it ended … a total disaster. By the time Ryan exited the interview, Mr. Campbell not only suspected Ryan had stolen Jason Patterson’s design plans, but he was also convinced Ryan was a drug addict.
Ryan couldn’t imagine a worse day. His concentration was completely shot, and he found it impossible to get any work done. The entire afternoon dragged on to the point Ryan thought it would never end. As soon as the hour hand hit the five o’clock mark, he was the first to leave for the day, flying past Shannon’s desk and tearing out toward the elevator.
Finally, he was on his way home. He knew Hailey had rented a hotel room for two nights and he hoped she hadn’t been so mad at him that she had extended her stay. But when he rounded the corner and headed down their street, he noted her car wasn’t in the driveway. His heart cracked at the thought of entering an empty house and spending another lonely night in their bed.
But nothing had prepared him to walk inside his home and find the loveseat missing. Staring at the carpet indentations where the legs had once been, he shrieked, “Noooooo.”
As fast as his legs could carry him, he thudded up the stairs and into the bedroom. A sigh of relief pushed from his lungs when he saw the furniture was still in place. But then he noticed the dresser was void of Hailey’s jewelry box and her other personal items. He flew to the closet and peered inside. A gasp fell from his mouth, finding all of Hailey’s clothing was gone. As if he couldn’t believe his eyes, he checked their bathroom, only to find her personal hygiene products were missing. He rushed down the hallway and eyeballed the g
uest bedroom.
“Oh, God,” Ryan cried out, the sound tearing from his heart. The room was empty, and about half of Adam’s things had been removed.
She’d up and left him. His wife had moved out and taken his son.
Now, he couldn’t imagine a worse day.
In an instant, Ryan was on the phone to Hailey. “Where are you?” he asked in a panicked voice the second she answered.
“I’ve moved out,” she responded.
“Moved out! You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ryan screamed into the phone, though he already knew her things were missing. “You’ve got it all wrong. There is nothing going on between me and Shannon. Nothing! I’ll shave my damned whiskers off – but it was never grown for her, it was only supposed to help me get the job. You know I have a baby face. I thought the growth gave me a more matured appearance, one that gave me an advantage. That’s all! Oh, and by the way, I didn’t get the promotion and was almost fired because all I could think about was you. And I still don’t know what happened Friday night. I was trying to find out from Shannon when you popped in. That’s why I was at her desk. That’s all! You’re making a freaking big deal out of nothing. Just come home. Right now!”
“No,” Hailey snarled into his ear. “Shannon said that stuff about your stubble because she wanted to hurt me. The only reason for her being vindictive would be because something is going on between you two. And you were all cozied up to her at her desk.” Before Ryan could get a word in edgewise, Hailey continued. “You’re not convincing, Ryan. I don’t believe your lies anymore. But what I do believe is a picture of you naked in bed with her. You slept with Shannon Lowry!”
“Why are you punishing me for something I don’t even remember? This is all so stupid. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you.”
“No. There’s no point in you coming over here because I’m staying. I’ve hired an attorney today and I’m filing for a divorce.”
“A DIVORCE!! I told you I wanted to go to counseling. Why would you just jump to that?”
“Because you’re having an affair with another woman!” Hailey screeched.
“I’m not!” Ryan yelled. “You’re running up a huge legal bill over absolutely nothing!”
“Don’t worry about it. I got a job today. I’ll pay for my own legal expenses!”
“A job. Where the hell?”
“At Harrington Oil & Gas.”
“In my building!” Ryan bellowed.
“Yes,” Hailey responded. “And my attorney is Brenna Howard with Carlson & Carlson. She’s going to work up the divorce petition and get it filed.”
“She’d sure as hell better not serve me with papers at my job. Do you hear me, Hailey! I’m only hanging onto my position by a thread. All I need is the constable showing up at my place of work!”
“Fine! I’ll make sure she serves you at home. I’ll call her in the morning.”
“Don’t bother serving me. I’ll hire my own attorney and file an Answer.”
“You do that!” Hailey screamed, and then hung up, wishing she could slam the receiver in his ear like in the good old days before cell phones.
Earlier, Ryan couldn’t imagine a worse day, but now he realized it literally was.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryan
Ryan couldn’t believe Hailey had taken such drastic steps. She was being ridiculous. He reviewed the day. Instead of a promotion, he was on the verge of losing his job. At the same time, his wife had not only left him and hired an attorney, but somehow, she’d managed to find herself a job. How could any one day go so terribly wrong? Oh, yeah, she’d moved out … to somewhere unknown, and with his son.
Ryan stomped around in an angry mood, repeatedly running his fingers through his dark brown hair to the point every strand was standing on end, giving him a mad scientist look. He considered his dinner but opted for the bottle of whisky from the top of one of the kitchen cabinets.
Taking the bottle and a glass, he spread himself out on the couch and poured himself a generous serving. He gulped it down. It burned the back of his throat and down the lining of his esophagus. He filled the glass again, then again. Finally, he dispensed with the tumbler and slugged straight from the bottle until he was licking the last droplet. He tossed the empty container onto the coffee table and threw his feet down to the other end of the couch. And there he stayed all night. Passed out.
The next morning, the sun beamed into the living room window. Ryan stirred. His joints were stiff. His tongue felt thick, and his head was pounding. When he first pried his eyes open, he couldn’t figure out where he was. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the spinning sensation would go away.
From somewhere behind him, a grandfather clock clanged away. Ryan placed a throw pillow over his head to drown out the incessant noise. Bang! Bang! Bang! The thing wouldn’t stop. Ryan lost count at eight.
“Eight!” he screamed. Ryan sprang to a sitting position and stared at the time piece, it now dawning on him that it was the grandfather clock willed to Hailey by her dearly departed grandfather on her mother’s side of the family. “Nine,” he croaked out. “Shit!” Ryan was already an hour late for work.
He didn’t bother with a shower, breakfast, or even a change of clothes. He ran straight to his car and sped to work. He hit the entrance and trotted past Shannon. When he was within two doors of his office – just when he thought he was going to be able to sneak in – Mr. Campbell stepped into the hallway and headed his direction.
“Morning, sir,” Ryan addressed, trying to keep his head down.
“Sinclair,” Mr. Campbell addressed as he passed by him. Then his boss halted and began sniffing the air. “Is that you I smell?”
Ryan halted in his tracks and slowly turned around. “Sorry, sir … I didn’t have time to shower. My son … remember he’s sick. I was up all night with him.”
“Is that why you smell like a damn brewery!” Mr. Campbell bellowed. His boss inspected him, scanning every inch of Ryan. Ryan stretched to his full height and tried to stop wobbling. “Are you wearing the same suit you wore yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. With my child being sick, I wasn’t able to pick up my dry cleaning.”
“But you had time to liquor yourself up,” Mr. Campbell quickly pointed out.
Ryan felt defeated. Who was he trying to kid? Losing his job was the last thing he needed. He needed to suck it up and come clean.
“My son isn’t sick. The truth is my wife left me, sir. Things are just horrible on the home front. But from here forward, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Mr. Campbell sighed, long and deep. “Pull it together, Sinclair. Otherwise, you’ll have boxed me into a corner. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I won’t be a problem.”
As soon as Ryan was at his desk, he slumped down in his chair and pushed out a heavy sigh. His marital problems were going to have to wait. If he lost his job, he wasn’t any good to his family. He needed to get his head on straight, and he needed to figure out why his boss thought he’d stolen Jason Patterson’s design plans.
Chapter Seventeen
Hailey
After hanging up on Ryan, I was fuming mad. Making good use of my anger, I scrubbed the heck out of the refrigerator, the oven and the sink. After working out my anger, I once again plopped on the loveseat, threw my head back and stared at the ceiling.
The carpet had been too wet to set up my bed, so eventually I had fallen asleep in a bunched-up bundle on the loveseat which was still in the dining room. The alarm on my phone went off, telling me it was time to get ready for my first workday in more than four years.
Stretching my legs to get the circulation back, I climbed to my feet. After taking a shower in my clean bathroom, I dried my hair, applied makeup and dressed for success in a dark black skirt and matching jacket, completed with an off-white blouse. Eating a quick donut and brushing my teeth, I was at my new job a good ten minutes before anyone else arrived.
Ms. Dav
is first introduced me to the two gentlemen in the room. James Pierce, a dark-haired guy with thick glasses, reminded me of Clark Kent. The other guy, Carter Hughes, was a tall, handsome man who gave me the impression he thought he was super good-looking. Other than Ms. Davis, these were the only two employees within this department. Apparently, all other employees were either dead or had been fired, which made me incredibly nervous about my position with the firm.
Each desk had a view of the downtown buildings, but when Ms. Davis placed me at the end workstation against a wall, it felt rewarding when I didn’t have a coworker on each side of me. She patiently explained the details of my job. In the end, it was quite simple. All I had to do was process reimbursements for field employees who incurred expenses while on the job. There were only a few receipts, and it was embarrassing when my tasks were completed hours before the workday was scheduled to end.
Unsure of what I was supposed to do with the remaining time, I knocked on Ms. Davis’ door.
“Come in,” she invited.
“Ms. Davis, I’ve already processed the reimbursements. Is there anything else you’d like for me to do?”
“Already?” She seemed shocked.
“Yes, unless I’ve botched it up.” Please don’t let that be the case.
“Let me check.” She swirled in her chair and tapped around on her computer, accessing the mainframe within the company. Some odd minutes later she turned back to me where I was now seated in one of two guest chairs. “It looks like you have finished.” She paused for a moment. “For the last few months, I’ve been performing the job of several other employees. But it’s been a time-consuming task. I have an idea.”
The remainder of the afternoon was spent helping her with payroll. By closing time, I felt proud of myself. Not only had I completed the job I had been hired for, but I had learned a few things along the way.
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