Seeing Colour

by Amber Faucher

  The Aussie had been true to his word. He had bought them first-class tickets before the launch was over, just to appease her need to run away from Connie and Ian. Now, here they were hours later, tired from lack of sleep and the haste of her rushed packing, sitting in a fancy VIP lounge, awaiting boarding.

  The launch hadn’t been as terrible as Evie had anticipated. Andy had only left her side once, as he began the presentation before Connie was thrown into the spotlight to showcase his work. Evie had been filled with animosity for the devil, up until she saw him on that stage. The enmity waned as the hulking Scot beguiled all the other investors and partners with his wily charm and gregarious charisma. He was in his glory up there, explaining his vision and designs, the frames’ versatility and variations, all while she and Blake Carter showcased frame models to either side of him.

  Having her face projected live onto a giant screen parallel to an international celebrity had been an intimidating idea that proved to be anything but. She made it through the presentation with an ease that seemed unwarranted, given the evening's developments. The presentation ended with a standing ovation and raucous applause that she felt was well deserved.

  Even though Connie had betrayed her, she could not hate his genius. Thistle would be a success, and the dispensing optician took solace in the fact that she hadn’t allowed her emotions to dictate her part in that.

  Afterward, Evie and Andy mingled with Blake and his gaggle of fans. She made small talk with his security that stood by like stoic soldiers in their dark suits. She was complimented without reprieve, on a job well done and for the beautiful ad-campaign. And she managed it all as if everything was perfectly okay.

  Somehow she had made it through the evening without having to deal with either of the deceitful men. Ian had kept his distance, and the designer was far too busy networking to pay her any mind.

  Serena seemed suspicious that something was amiss, but was way off base whenever she attempted to guess. Mara had only stopped long enough to congratulate her on the performance, which the redhead assumed was all the woman really cared about in the end.

  Andy was gracious. He didn’t suffocate her, he didn’t try to act like some testosterone-puffed protector, or hover over her every move. He was just there. When she needed a reassuring smile or nod, when she needed another drink, and when she was too tired to keep going. He was exactly what she needed when she needed it.

  When the after-party was winding down, and many of the guests had departed, the two friends made their escape. They went to her flat, packed her things into suitcases and left her keys to the flat and the store on the table.

  Now, her mobile chimed beside her plate. Evie glanced at the screen with weary half-hooded eyes. It was another text from Serena.

  Evie had taken the cowardly way out there. She had left a hastily scrawled sticky note on the fridge, hoping her flatmate wouldn’t find it until after she was a thousand miles away.

  Fat chance. Serena was too fanatical about order and organization to miss it. That sticky note might as well have been a blinking light and siren, broadcasting her unceremonious departure from the land of the Scots, and Serena was not holding back any criticism about how she felt about it.

  However, this message was more straightforward than the drawn-out rants that had proceeded it.

  S.G. - Don’t do this.

  Evie’s stomach plummeted. With her heart in her throat, she took another swig of water, hoping to drown it.

  Evie cast a look askance, finding the Aussie pacing up and down between some empty tables. Although his back was turned to her, she could see the muscles of his shoulders bunching and flexing through his casual tee, as his hands made animated gestures while he spoke. Watching him, Evie felt an odd mix of want and unease.

  It was probably why her stomach wasn’t cooperating with the expensive plate she had ordered.

  It wasn’t that Evie didn’t want what an all-expense-paid trip to Australia, to enjoy all the sun and beach-time one could handle. She looked forward to finally soaking up some rays after Scotland’s drizzle. Yet she could not shake this weird sense of foreboding.

  ‘Foreboding’ seemed extreme, given the situation, but the feeling was that strong. Worse yet, Evie wasn’t sure where it was originating from. Usually, she could chalk up such trepidation to her mistrust of spontaneity, which was always a recipe for unease for a planner. But, Evie couldn’t stay in Scotland—how could she after…

  Evie turned back to her mutilated eggs, as the mobile chimed again, reminding her of the message she had not answered.

  Evie had not replied to any of Serena’s more demanding texts, and she certainly wasn’t planning on responding to this one. There was no point. What would she say? There was no way to stay. Evie had nothing here anymore and, without any ties, why couldn’t she feel perfectly happy with flying First Class with her best friend to a sunny beach somewhere far far away from the disaster she had created here?

  Perhaps it was the way she was leaving her job.

  Evie had always played by the rules, and it was uncouth and uncustomary for her to cut ties with an employer so unceremoniously—a quickly typed resignation email. Evie knew that Connie deserved it and just hoped that Mara would understand. At any rate, she would professionally have to wipe her work in Scotland from her employment history. It would be better if her future interviewers were not aware of her failed stint working abroad.

  As far as Thistle went, she wished Connie the best of luck with his frames and the ad campaign. Her face would be stuck as the starter-face for the advertisements, but they had Blake Carter. Mara wouldn’t let that opportunity get away. Her face would be a distant memory once the hot actor’s ads were rolled out.

  A pitcher filled her glass with water, as a stopping waiter paused to compliment her glasses. She self-consciously adjusted the yellow frame, knowing that wearing it made her a total hypocrite.

  Even though she had a non-Connie frame without scratched lenses, she didn’t want to wear it. She had not even bothered to look for it. She loved her colourful frames and wasn’t sure she could ever give them up, despite the hard feelings. She dealt with the conundrum by not thinking about it, because, between the sleep deprivation and her frayed emotions, she couldn’t come up with any kind of reasonable excuse. She could figure that out later, laying in a hammock, in the shade of a palm tree down by the ocean, with a mojito in her hand…

  Andy had turned back toward her, and when his gaze landed on her, the most perfect smile broke out on his face.

  It made Evie’s stomach twist even tighter. She wasn’t thinking about what Andy had confessed to her either. It was too problematic and made her even more anxious.

  Perhaps it was juvenile, but Evie wasn’t ready to consider any aspect of another relationship. Thankfully, he had given her the out on that. He had said she could have her space, which made Andy even more perfect than he already was.

  Nope. Stop thinking. Just. Stop. Just live for the moment, Evie reminded herself, a two-week plan will just have to suffice for now.

  A raucous cry caught her attention as a blur of dark-clad lounge staff moved towards the entrance to the VIP area. When she glanced that way, curious as to why the gaggle had formed, she saw what looked like a scuffle. Someone, who undoubtedly did not have a membership, was demanding access and the lounge staff were fighting to quietly push them out.

  “I just need to talk to someone!”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to use this lounge, you will have to contact the person you wish to speak with and request that they meet…”

  “…this’ll only take a minute!”

  The shouts mingled together, as Andy suddenly rushed past. Evie sat bolt upright as her friend ended his call and headed straight into the melee. Just then, the intruder burst through the raised arms and rushed in, frantically calling her name.

  Evie’s initial thoughts were panicked. How the hell did he find me? Why now? I can’t do this…

>   All of this was somewhat moot, however.

  “Mara?”

  Andy discreetly calmed the lounge staff as Mara plowed in and plunked herself down in a chair. Opposite her former dispensing optician, the woman heaved a stressed sigh. Everything about Mara was wild. Her hair was coming loose from its perfectly coifed chignon from the launch, and her mascara had flaked and worn, adding to the depth of purple ringed under her eyes. Gone was the form-fitting ivory dress and stilettos. Her clothes were rumpled, sweat pants and a tee hastily covered by a chic leather jacket—an overall appearance so shocking that Evie was left speechless.

  The optometrist took full advantage, launching her attack without hesitation or preamble. “I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re feeling.” She said, her words coming out like cannon fodder, leaving Evie wanting to duck and run for cover. “But, Evangeline, you cannot leave.”

  Needing to be rescued from this bombardment, Evie’s wide, fearful eyes searched frantically for Andy. The Aussie was nonchalantly walking back over to them, as though nothing strange had just happened. His manner was casual, as he nabbed another chair and sat with the two women at the table. He had evaded eye contact up until he had stretched back in the chair—the last possible second when he could no longer avoid her—and what Evie found there was not what she had been hoping for.

  Where the hell was her relief? Her backup? Her best friend?!

  Feeling rejected and sour, the girl had no choice but to face the onslaught she had painstakingly tried to circumvent through this last chaotic 24 hours—explaining to any of her Scotland acquaintances why she was leaving.

  It was stupid to think that none of them knew what had happened—Mara must have rallied the troops to cut off her retreat.

  As Mara rambled on along the same lines as Andy had in the cab the day before—glorifying her slight influence in the launching of the frame line—Evie tuned it all out.

  All she could think about was why Mara even cared? Surely having her out of the picture would make things easier for her and Connie to move forward with the business. This fictitious infatuation that had existed between her and Connie was a problematic complication. Company’s had been sunk by less. If she were out of the picture, the mess could be swept under the rug, and the frame line could thrive.

  A sharp crack from Mara’s foot under the table brought Evie out of her snivelling. Rubbing her shin, where a bruise would inevitably form later, the girl defensively retorted, “What the hell, Mara?!”

  “You’re not listening,” the optometrist snarled back as she shook an accusing finger at her, “I’m trying to stop you from making an even bigger mistake than you already have.”

  “Encouraging pep talk,” Evie retaliated, bitterly. She folded her arms and slumped back in her chair, “but I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “Leaving is the worst thing that you could do professionally,” the brunette argued.

  “I don’t understand how staying is even an option!” Evie roared, throwing her arms up in the air, incredulously, “It seems to be especially damning for myself professionally. I mean, come on! I slept with my boss—well, not technically…” The technicality of the staged one-nighter left her flustered. “Not that that matters, but, seriously, it will only get more screwed up if I stay. It’d be better if I started a new job in another country and forget this whole thing even happened!”

  “You can’t forget us!”

  “What do you care?” Evie snapped derisively, “We spent a few months together. I was just another optician. Just another employee. I mean nothing to you!”

  “You mean everything to Thistle.” Mara countered, “You accomplished in a few weeks what I failed to in years of trying. Coinneach listens to you, not because he was hiding behind you to shield himself from his own problems, but because he respects you. I respect you.”

  Evie felt the flames of her rage and confusion temper.

  Mara cleared her throat and brushed a wayward strand of her dark hair from her forehead. “I’m not sure if it was just good timing, or if there is something more there, but you were able to build him up and empower him. Rekindle his passion for what he loves.”

  Which obviously wasn’t me, Evie thought bitterly.

  “Already…he’s spiralled backwards."

  “I’m not his babysitter,”

  “Of course not,” Mara snapped, growing peevish. To retain some decorum, she shook her head and took a deep breath. When she started again, Mara was placating as she explained, “Coinneach feels guilty—as he should—but the only way this can be rectified is if you stay.”

  “I can’t do that,” Evie quipped, petulantly, “so he’s just going to have to suck it up and deal with it.”

  “That’s precisely the point I’m trying to make,” Mara contradicted, annoyed, “he’s not going to deal with it if you leave. He’s going to feel guilty, and then he’s going to push Ian away again, and we will all be back to square one. He will continue this ridiculous charade, pretending that he isn’t happy with Ian and that he isn’t hurting anyone, drinking himself into oblivion every night to forget about it all. He needs to deal with the repercussions of his delusional pride-driven mistakes, and if you could get him to see the truth about his frames, you can get him to see the truth about this.”

  Evie threw a hand up in exaggeration, vaguely gesturing at the man’s ex-wife. “You dumping his ass and getting a divorce didn’t work, so now I have to stay and make him deal with it?”

  “That’s not what I meant,”

  “But that’s what you’re proposing!” Evie interjected. Her raised voice was drawing looks from others in the lounge around them, “I still don’t get why you even care?! You’ve disliked me from the get-go and, sure, you’re grateful for the business Connie’s frames have drummed up for you, but it’s pretty damn obvious you despise Connie too.”

  Evie felt that the words were true, but the majority of what she had said was just outright obnoxious, rude, and uncalled for. A part of her cringed as she saw the hurt ripple across the woman’s face, tensing her frame, just as the other part of Evie hoped it would be enough to piss the optometrist off enough to get her to leave. Mara retained her decorum, her face returning to its icy resolve, which Evie was more accustomed to.

  “I may have been blessed with resting-bitch-face, but at least I own it.” Mara said, “When I found out about Connie and Ian, I could have run away. I had my degree. I could have left and set up shop as far away from the two of them as I figured I needed to go. The reason I didn’t is that I didn’t want to lose what I had established, in the business and in the relationship.

  "Sure, I was bloody hurt. I loved Coinneach and had never once doubted that he loved me…until I saw it for myself.” She explained, the pain in her voice sounding just as real now as it probably had then, “I hated how perfect they were together. Far better than I was with him. I was a part of him, but Ian…Ian completes him.’

  ‘That’s why I called Ian back when I saw that Coinneach was attracted to you,” Mara tried to explain when she was cut off by Evie’s shocked gasp.

  “You made Ian come back from Skye? To break us up?”

  There were far worse slander and accusations slamming around in her brain that would have gotten out if Andy had not placed a placating hand over hers. Evie pulled away as if stung, but the distraction was enough for Mara to continue with her argument.

  “Let me finish,” Mara warned, splaying her hands out in front of her on the table again, as she calculated precisely what to say next.

  All Evie could think, as she watched the other woman ruminate, was where Connie was and why his ex-wife was here defending him. If Connie wanted to make up for what he had done, then surely, he was man enough to do it for himself. Why had Mara come?

  “He doesn’t know I’m here. Connie’s too proud to have come on his own and Ian is too callous to suggest he do anything.” Mara began, sounding frustrated but determined, “I came because I want you t
o continue to be a part of this business. You’re smart, you’re intuitive, you’ve shown tremendous initiative, and you have a passion for the frames that was enough to inspire that stubborn-ass Scot to get his act together.

  "Bloody worst part is, I know what you’re going through,” Mara continued, crossing her arms and pursing her lips, “and that’s exactly why I won’t let you be the loser.”

  Evie’s brows knit as she did a double-take. “The loser?”

  Mara shrugged, nonplussed as she gestured vaguely at the redhead’s cohort “That is what you would be if you get on that plane with Rich, Blonde, and Handsome here.” She glanced at the lone man sitting on the sidelines of their discussion, tossing him a quickly muttered, “No offence.”

  Andy obliged her with a smarmy grin—his famously overdone one—as he flicked his brows and happily took credit, “I can’t very well deny it, now can I?”

  Mara turned her dark eyes back to Evie, and the girl felt that the real heat was finally on. Mara was a businesswoman at heart after all, and she was not about to let her part in the business suffer because of what had happened. What Evie couldn’t decide was how she felt about it.

  On the one hand, Mara seemed callous for looking out for her own interests, but on the other, it was true that their interests were mutually aligned if she were to stay. Illuminated now, Evie saw that she was the only one guaranteed to lose out if she left.

  Mara must have taken her silence as a possible ‘no,’ for she leaned forward again, hands clasped, ready to defend her proposal. “If you stay, Coinneach faces the music.” She lifted her hand, ticking off on her fingers as she went, “He can no longer deny Ian, he has to apologize to his talented and beautiful frame model/dispensing optician, and the four of us can hold him accountable in the future. Thistle has a chance to be a real success…because of what you decide to do right now.”

  No pressure, Evie thought sarcastically.

  She wished she could wipe the tell-tale smirk from her mouth. It was the first time Evie had stopped to consider anything besides running since finding out Connie had been shagging Ian much of the time that he was pretending to be the perfect boyfriend to her.