Commitment

by Golland, K. M.

  Yep, the ‘Bryce Effect’.

  Holding up my hands, I addressed the frisky females surrounding us. “Okay okay. Settle down, ladies. This right here is a regular occurrence. It shall pass in seconds.”

  “Minutes,” Alexis mumbled.

  “Hours,” Bryce corrected.

  I punched them both.

  I was very punchy.

  “Oh break it up. Boss-man, you have a class to teach. Alexis, you have some explaining to do. And me? Well, I have to punch shit. Chop chop.”

  “You better do as she says, Mr Clark,” Alexis murmured against his lips as she pulled away. “You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

  “I pay her bad side. I pay all her bloody sides.”

  Alexis giggled. “It’s what you do.”

  Gah! I wanted to simultaneously spew in my mouth and gently caress my heart. They were just so … so in love. And not just in love, in lust-love. I missed lust-love. I wanted lust-love too.

  After Bryce and Lexi finished sucking face, I found out that the reason she’d wanted to go to self-defence class was because Bryce had told her she needed to cut back her exercise, as she was losing too much weight. Lexi had post-preggers body image issues, and he was obviously concerned about her welfare so had said that if he caught her exercising without him, he’d kiss her without kissing her. I didn’t know what that meant other than it sounded intriguing enough for me to want a non-kiss kiss of my own. I’d never experienced one before. Plus, they didn’t sound like much of a punishment.

  Alexis, on the other hand, had experienced one, and she was adamant the non-kiss kiss wasn’t a good thing. She said it was an evil trick, which was why she’d found a loophole in Bryce’s no-exercise-without-him rule by exercising at self-defence class. He ran the class daily. He was always there. She would be there with him, and that was his stipulation.

  She was a sly fox, my Lexi.

  I had to admit that Bryce’s alpha male bullshit was pretty hot. It showed how much he cared for and idolised her without being too domineering. And anyway, Alexis wouldn’t hesitate in putting her foot down and keeping it down if she felt the need to do so. She was one of the strongest willed and independent women I knew. The both of them complemented each other perfectly. That said, I had to agree with boss-man; Alexis had lost a lot of weight after giving birth to Brayden, and she really should be taking a step back from fat burning.

  “If you get any thinner, you’ll look like Barbie’s pinky finger,” I stated, ducking her attempted grab of my hair.

  She stepped back, and we repeated the motions that Bryce had instructed us to practice. “I’m nearly at the weight I want to be. I’ll stop when I’m there.”

  “And what weight is that … the weight of a cotton wool ball?”

  “Ha ha! Very funny.” Her second ‘attempted’ grab of my hair was anything but an attempt. It was successful.

  “Hey!” I protested.

  “What? You didn’t duck quick enough. Not my fault.”

  “It’s supposed to be a demonstration, Barbie digit.”

  Her nose scrunched and she yanked on my ponytail. “Take it back, Natasha Jones.”

  “Ow! No.”

  “You’re thin-shaming me. Stop it.”

  “I’m what?” Fuck me stupid. She’s like a three month-old baby with a death grip.

  “You heard me. You’re thin-shaming me. You’re picking on me for being, in your eyes, too thin.”

  I gawked at her, but she kept prattling on. “So tell me,” she said, letting go of my hair and placing her hands on her hips, “when did you graduate from the Weight-Police Academy, huh?”

  I rubbed my sore follicles — the ones she murdered — as she continued to berate me. “The only person who needs to be happy with the way I look is me. Not you. Not Bryce. Not the guy at the construction site down the street who doesn’t know how to keep his big fucking mouth shut and his mind on the job. Me. Just me. If I’m happy, that’s all that matters.”

  “Okay. Sheesh. Don’t get your rufflebutts in a knot.”

  “I’m not. I just hate it when people tell me I should look or feel a certain way. It’s not their call. I decide. My body. My mind.”

  “Well, Miss Grabby-hands, I decide what I think. And I think you’re losing too much weight—”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” I raised my finger to her lips. “It’s my turn to speak, shush.”

  She glared at me but kept quiet.

  “You’re very thin, hon. And I say that in a negative way not because of image, but because of health. You’re still breastfeeding. Your body is still adjusting to the birth of your son. Cut. It. Some. Fucking. Slack.” I reached out and grabbed her hair.

  “Ow!”

  She grabbed mine. “Ow!”

  “Let go!”

  “No. You let go.”

  “Ladies, you’re supposed to do that in a pool full of jelly.”

  Both Alexis and I turned our heads just slightly, finding Dale with an amused grin on his face. “Please don’t tell me I need to break this up, because I really don’t want to.” Yes. No. Possibly … Donuts. I couldn’t say anything. My tongue had died all the deads.

  “Technically, I’m on duty,” he continued. “But I can turn a blind eye … and use the other one to watch in amusement.”

  Alexis laughed and let go.

  I didn’t.

  I just stared.

  Dale had really great eyes … and I was fairly sure my tongue had just passed away.

  Chapter Three

  Tash

  The blue shirt Alexis had changed into, the casing around my pen, a woman’s pair of heels as they clicked on the marble floor beside me … all those things were the shade of blue that I’d stared at earlier in the day; the shade of Dale’s eyes. Not bright, yet not dull. Not vivid blue but not quite grey. They were the colour of the sky in spring when a light mist of cloud swept through and birds would chirp and flowers would blossom and … What the foxarse am I saying? They’re plain blue. Big deal.

  Focussing on my coffee cup, I let out a longwinded breath. Coffee. Yes, Dean’s eyes were the colour of coffee — rich, robust and warm. They were eyes I’d gazed into countless times during the past eighteen years, and eyes that would forever tether me to all I called home. Home. It was where I needed to be, so I switched off my computer, grabbed my water bottle and handbag and stood up from my desk, ready to leave work for the day. I’d spent enough time sitting around and pondering Dale’s eye colour, and it was time to make like Florence + The Machine and “Shake it Out”. My drifting thoughts were ridiculous and should not have been consumed by a shade of blue … consumed by him. Who am I kidding? The man wants a conversation with my monkey. Of course my thoughts are consumed by him.

  There was also the minor detail of him being ruggedly handsome. That was indisputable. He was one with giraffe in the height department, built like a teenage gorilla, had lips like a fish, and eyes you could drift in for all eternity … argh! The man was eye-candy, mere fucking eye-candy that was all of a sudden very appealing. That was it. Nothing more. But why? Why the hell is he stuck like glue to my stupid mind?

  Maybe it was the wrinkles in his brow, the creases around his mouth, the small scar in his left eyebrow, his five o’clock shadow, his …

  “Tash, what time does Sierra Thomas arrive?”

  “Five o’clock,” I blurted out, blinking before finding Allison looking at me with a what-planet-are-you-from expression. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “What. Time. Is. Sierra. Thomas. Arriving?” she repeated, slowly, her eyes wide, her head tilted. My guess was that she was part annoyed, part amused. It was a look I received often.

  Letting out a mild laugh, I shook my head, dismissing my idiocy. “Well, obviously not five o’clock, considering it’s nearly eight.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, obviously. What’s gotten into you? You’ve been in lala land ever since I arrived this afternoon.”

  �
��Sorry. I’m just having one of those days. Got a lot on my mind.”

  “No shit.” She looked down at her clipboard and marked something off. “So what time?”

  “Sierra’s manager said nine o’clock in the email, but they’ve changed her ETA two times already. Keep an eye on the inbox just in case it changes again. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  She sighed. “I hate it when they do that. It’s such a pain in the arse.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I placed my handbag back down on my desk. “Look, I can stay if you need me to. This is a big event. I should probably be here.”

  “No no, it’s cool. I’ve got this. Go home to your family.” She lifted her head, smiled, and pushed a few strands of her blonde cropped hair behind her ear.

  “You sure?”

  “Sure as eggs is eggs. Go.”

  “Alright, I’m going. Call me if you need me.”

  “Go!” she huffed.

  I blew her a kiss and went to leave our office, which was situated on level seven of City Towers, together with all other Clark Incorporated offices sans Security Operations, and Bryce’s office. His was on the penthouse floor where he, Alexis, and their children lived.

  Pausing before stepping through the door, I took a moment to look out the window toward the city of Melbourne. Not once did I take for granted the view of one of the best cities in the world, and, at close to sunset, it was my favourite time of the day — a beautiful glow of orange bouncing off the Rialto building, turning it a shade of purple.

  I loved purple. Purple was my favourite colour.

  “Are you going?” Allison asked.

  I didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling at me. I could hear the amused sarcasm in her voice. “Yeah, yeah. Just a minute.”

  “Anyone would think you don’t want to go home.”

  My head snapped in her direction. “What? Why?”

  “It’s nearly eight o’clock. You’ve been here for what … half a day?”

  “Yeah. So? It’s been a busy day. Dean and the kids know I’m stuck at work during busy days.”

  “But you’re not stuck now. You can leave. I’ve got this.”

  “I know. I just want to watch the Rialto turn purple.”

  “God, if you really love it that much why not watch it from the sundeck. You can see the whole monstrosity from there.” Really? Huh. I’d never thought to do that.

  I smiled. “Great idea! I’ll go and do that now.”

  “Better be quick. The sun goes to bed quickly.”

  Gathering my handbag once again, I hurried out of the office and shouted ‘bye’ before entering the elevator and pressing level two. The doors closed and I descended, but not before stopping at level five. Ugh! Hurry hurry hurry. I tapped my fingers on the railing as I waited for the doors to slide open and reveal who was holding me up.

  They opened.

  They revealed Dale.

  He stepped into the cart and his curious smile, together with the small rush of air carrying the scent of his aftershave, caused a shiver-tingle to run down the length of my spine. It also did something weird to my face, something I didn’t think could be categorised as a smile or frown. It was somehow a culmination of both.

  “Tashy! Still have ants in your pants, I see.”

  “What?” I lunged forward and stabbed at the ‘close door’ button numerous times. “Why are these things so slow when you’re in a hurry?”

  “Not sure. Maybe like me, they like to watch you dance.”

  Taking note of my feet, they were kinda dancing about impatiently. “Nope. Not dancing. Just in a really big hurry to get to the sundeck.”

  “Why? And just quietly, it’s never been proven that dancing about speeds forward time.”

  My non-dancing dancing stopped, and I felt a little embarrassed. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Oh, don’t stop bouncing on my account. You look good when you bounce.” His eyes quickly flicked to my chest.

  My jaw dropped at his audacity for the second, or was it the third time that day. “What’s gotten into you?”

  Dale furrowed his brow. “What? Me? Nothing.”

  I glared at him. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

  The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened but neither of us moved. We just stared each other down for the smallest of seconds, the summer air swirling from the open doors of the sundeck like a vacuum around us.

  His eyes darted.

  Mine chased.

  He swallowed.

  I bit my lip.

  His mouth parted.

  I sprung out of the cart, not saying anything, not even goodbye. Clearly, he’d eaten a plate of inappropriate for breakfast and it wasn’t a dish I wanted to share. I had other things to see and do. Purple things. Beautiful things. Things that did not make my rufflebutt undies ruffle.

  Without looking back, I scurried past the hotel pool to the balustrade at the edge of the sundeck, sighing with relief when I spotted the violet Rialto beast before me. My fingers gripped the railing and I leaned back, smiling at how something so simple could be so captivating and peaceful. So settling.

  “Is something drastic about to happen to the Rialto that I should be aware of?”

  I jolted just slightly, my settled moment vanishing. And once again, I almost gave birth to a litter of spider monkeys. “Seriously?” I scolded, clutching at my chest. “Did you go to ghost school or something? Your creep-up-on-someone skills are exceptional.”

  He didn’t say anything; instead, he just rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands in his suit pant pockets while he glanced repeatedly from me to the building, appearing to wait for my answer. He looked outright edible, and I was really fucking hungry.

  Immediately, I focussed my attention back to the Rialto. I didn’t want to eat it despite how pleasing it was to my eye.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “No. Nothing drastic is going to happen. I just really like to see it at sunset. It turns purple.”

  “I can see that, and during the day it’s blue. Annnnd during the night it’s black.”

  I ignored him. He was being an arse. In fact, he’d been nothing but completely out of character all day. Something was up. I just didn’t know what that something was.

  “Sorry,” he chuckled, a nervous tinge to the rumble of his voice. “That sounded rude.”

  I scoffed. “You don’t say.”

  Violet window panels turned to mauve then lilac as the sun slowly kissed the horizon — the Rialto once again blue, but this time a greyish blue. Dale eye-colour blue.

  It was not my pretty purple. I was done.

  Letting go of the railing, my lips pursed, my eyebrows raised, I turned away from him. “That’s it for me. See ya tomorrow.”

  I wasn’t about to linger, my retreat deliberately quick. Standing there with him as the sun had set, his demeanour unlike what it normally was, had been the weirdest thing I’d experienced since watching Jerry Springer, and I liked that twisted, fucked up show.

  * * *

  Pausing as I opened the front door to my home, I was unsure as to whether or not I’d be attacked by a sword-balloon again. The thought alone was hideous and I almost didn’t want to enter. Damn it! I’m unprepared. I’m not wearing a Tena. And my heart is already bouncing around like a frog on crack. Is that sweat on my palms? Yes. Ew.

  “Grow a lady pair, Tash,” I said to myself, slowly peeking my head around the door to find … nothing, nothing but the waft of spaghetti Bolognese. It smelled divine.

  My stomach sprung to life, the noise it made akin to Chewbacca at a karaoke bar. “Honey, I’m home,” I sang, closing the front door and dumping my handbag on the coffee table.

  Continuing through my house and into the living room, I soon spotted Dean and the boys on the sofa, Xbox controllers in hand, some kind of army game on the television screen.

  None of them looked up.

  I waved sarcastically. “Hello, family.”

&nbs
p; “Hey, mum. You look nice,” William replied, his eyes fixated on the screen.

  “Yeah, you look nice,” Thomas mimicked.

  My head lost the will to be upstanding and flopped to the side. “Thank you, but I’m not wearing anything.”

  William snapped his eyes in my direction before snapping them away, his hand shooting up to block me from his peripheral vision. “Mum!” His hand lowered a little and he peeked over the top. “Oh, you’re kidding.”

  “Is she?” Thomas asked, his hands pressed firmly to his face, his little fingers slowly spreading apart and allowing him to peep through them.

  I groaned. “Yes. But it’s nice to have your attention. Hi, I’m your mother. Remember me? I’m the one who gave you life.”

  Thomas poked his tongue out, so I grabbed my little monster’s hands, pulled him toward me and lifted my not-so-baby-boy into my arms. “Why are you still awake and playing video games? It’s a school night.”

  “’Cause Dad said I could.”

  “He wanted you to tuck him in when you got home.” Dean still hadn’t looked my way, instead engrossed in the game he was playing. “Ha!” he shouted, suddenly springing from his seat and pointing to William. “Loser!”

  “NO!” Will tossed his controller on the seat beside him then crossed his arms. “This game sucks!”

  “Never forget the snipers, Willy boy,” Dean said, cockily, scruffing our eldest’s hair.

  Will swatted his father’s hand away. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Mum, I’m tired.” Thomas gripped me tighter and snuggled, nuzzling his head into my neck.

  “Have you read your school reader yet?”

  “No.”

  I lowered him to his feet. “Okay, go and get into your PJs, brush your teeth, and hop into bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He shuffled over to Dean and gave him a hug, followed by his brother before shuffling out of the room, rubbing his eyes.

  I sighed. Working late wasn’t ideal, especially where Thomas was concerned. Luckily, it didn’t happen all that often. What also didn’t happen all that often was the godawful state of my kitchen — plates, pots, glasses and food scraps all over the benches.