by Kacey Shea
“Oh, honey, what happened to you? Have a little spill? Come inside, I’ll clean that right up.”
“Thanks, Kiki.” It’s comforting to have her worry and protection, to have someone take care of me. Inside, my mind goes a little numb while Kiki hovers. She cleans my wound and brews a fresh pot of coffee. She’s basically my guardian angel.
It’s not until she places the mug in my hands and the aroma of pure goodness meets my nostrils that I find the courage to speak.
“Kiki, do you know who Tiffany McClain is?”
Kiki, mid pour in her own cup of joe, halts her movement and searches my eyes a long moment. She resumes filling her cup and sits across the table. “Why do you ask?”
“Chase left tonight. We had an argument. Well, it was more a lovers’ squabble, and he said he needed to go meet a friend. He wasn’t angry, we had made up, sort of. And I decided to take a jog, only this time I took a different route, and well—” I sniffle back the emotion that threatens to escape and take a sip before I continue. “You can imagine my surprise when I saw his car in her driveway!”
Kiki meets my gaze and sips from her own cup. Her lips and eyes give nothing away. “Callie, what do you want me to say?”
“I just want to know the truth. Who is this Tiff person and what is she to Chase? Did they date? Were they together? Is she just some jealous hose chaser? It’s driving me crazy not knowing!”
“He hasn’t told you?” Her brow lifts.
“Told me what?”
“Listen Callie, I’m going to tell you what I wish someone had told me thirty-five years ago.” She pauses and I wait. My fingers flex protectively around my coffee mug as I prepare to hear her words.
“Ask the hard questions. Go to the source. Don’t rely on other people’s biases and opinions to seek the truth you need. Don’t assume anything. You know what they say about that?” She winks and lets loose a weak, raspy chuckle. “I wish I could help you, I really do, but you need to ask Chase.”
“I know.” I blow out a breath and lean back into my chair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. I know I need to talk to him. It’s just hard.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“The truth. That he won’t answer. That it’ll cause him to push me away.”
“You can’t be afraid in love, my dear. You must be brave, and strong, and unapologetic. The man who can handle that and lift you up in the process, that’s the man for you.”
“You don’t think that’s Chase?” I frown into my empty cup.
“I didn’t say that, Callie. Only you can know that truth.” She nods to the coffee pot and I smile and hold out my mug.
“Why are you so perfect?” I laugh and Kiki shakes her head. Her thinning white hair shifts with the movement.
“There are many things I am, my dear, but perfect is not one of them.” She sits back down across from me with a wry grin, then she entertains me with stories from her younger, wilder days. Just the distraction I need. The minutes turn to hours and when I finally decide to head home she insists on driving me, reasoning my bum knee and the dark night won’t bode well for a walk home. I’m thankful for her offer and when she drops me back at my place I feel somewhat settled. The most I have all day.
I check the messages on my phone, both disappointed and relieved to find none from Chase. I want to reach out to him. To text him. But the part of me that was hurt by his actions needs him to make the first move. He can text me first after the way he left. After going to her.
And Kiki is right. I need to go to the source. I need to ask him about Tiff. As much as my mind wants to race to every possible conclusion, I refuse to go there. Instead, I make a mental list of all the tasks I need to complete at work tomorrow. That finally exhausts my worries and I sleep.
I’m really trying to love my life.
Truly I am. But as I sit at my desk this Monday morning, the owners of Superstition Graphix have confirmed the worst. The company-wide email has murmuring throughout the office at an all-time high, though no one dares move from their cubicle. Our company has been sold.
Now everyone is being sent through Human Resources, one by one, to learn our fate—continue with the company, or be laid off and start a job hunt. Some of my colleagues aren’t even waiting, instead using the company computer to surf online ads until it’s their turn.
And the shitty thing about it? All I can do is sit here and stare at my cell phone. Willing it to please vibrate with a text message alert or phone call. Because even though I know my boyfriend is at work I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t contacted me.
Nothing. I’ve heard nothing from him since he left last night. Is it really so difficult to type out a couple of words and hit send?
My bigger fear, the one that has me obsessed over a message instead of worrying over my future, is that I’m not on his mind. Because he’s been on mine. All night. All day. And what if the reason he’s not thinking about me is because he’s been thinking about her?
My desktop phone rings and jolts me from my inner worries. I yank it to my ear. “Hello.”
“Callie Gordon, they’re ready for you in Human Resources.”
“Thank you.” I step from my desk, timid and unprepared for the fate that lies ahead. Oh, God, I just mortgaged a house. I can’t lose my job. Is this only the beginning of me losing everything? My job first, my house next . . . my relationship with Chase?
I pass Jim, who is being led my way by our building’s security guard with a big brown packing box balanced in his hands. Jim meets my worried gaze.
“Callie. Whatever happens . . . here.” He stops walking to drop the box on a nearby desk and dig out a pen.
“Let’s go, Mr. Wallace. You know I’m on strict orders to escort you outside.”
Jim ignores the guard, scribbles something on a paper, and rips off a small square to hand to me. “Good luck.” He picks up the box to follow the guard.
I glance down at a phone number and fold the paper, tuck it inside my trouser pocket, and make my way to HR. I paste a smile on my face and try to conjure some sense of positivity, but deep down I fear today will be filled with one disappointment after another.
I sit in my little cubicle checking for any last personal effects. It’s sad, really, that I’ve done nothing to personalize this space. There are no photos, decorations, or even personalized notepaper. Everything is company logo from the supply closet. It takes all of ten minutes to collect my belongings, and the only reason it takes that long is because I have to remove my wallet, keys, chapstick, and sunglasses from the company issued laptop bag. They offer me a box, but everything I own fits inside my insulated lunchbox.
Great.
Super.
Awesome.
I keep my face frozen in a polite smile as I’m followed by building security into the lobby. I sling the strap to my lunch bag over one shoulder, push the glass frame door open with one hip, and say good-bye to my first post-college job. One I expected to have for years, not a matter of months.
The mid-morning is still crisp and cool, not a cloud in sight. The door behind me swings closed with a soft thwump. My emotions hit me all at once.
I’m unemployed.
I need a new job.
ASAP.
I want my dad.
Why did I move so far from home?
I have no income and a house payment due at the end of the month, and then again for the next thirty years.
Why is this happening?
I haven’t heard from Chase.
No messages, still.
No phone call, still.
The trickling fear that I’ve been played a fool—that Chase doesn’t reciprocate the feelings I have for him, that maybe he never did—tugs at my mind and my heart.
This is bullshit!
I’ve lost my job and I should be calling my boyfriend so he can commiserate with me. He should be assuring me everything will be okay. That he supports me, that he knows I’ll find another j
ob, that we’ll figure this all out . . . together. Then he’ll tell a joke, I’ll smile, and we’ll laugh, open a bottle of wine and forget for a little while that I’m anything other than his.
Stupid Chase.
Stupid Pancake Bitch.
Stupid life.
“Argh!” I shout to the sky and send a few sparrows flying from the nearby tree. What the hell am I still doing here? I march around the building to where my Jeep is parked. When I near my space, I glance up to find Jim, Ellie, and Rose standing around a sleek BMW, laughing away as if they weren’t just canned.
“Callie!” Jim’s eyes light up. He sucks one long inhale from his cigarette and drops it to the blacktop to grind it out with his heel. “They let you go?”
“Yep. Sign me up for food stamps and unemployment assistance until further notice!” I try for a joke but it falls weak even to my own ears. Jim just smiles wider.
“I was afraid of that, with you being so new, but kind of hoping for it all the same.”
“Thanks?” Jim’s been nothing but nice to me so I’ve no clue why he’d wish me such bad luck.
“Callie.” His voice holds a giddy excitement. “How’d you like to be part owner of an up and coming web design firm?”
“That’d be awesome.” I study Jim, Ellie, and Rose, but get nothing but smiles from the trio. “But no one’s gonna make that kind of offer to a twenty-two-year-old graphic designer with less than one year of industry experience.”
Jim laughs, a loud booming sound and it bruises my already fractured ego.
“Callie . . . Ellie, Rose, and I are starting our own firm. We’ve been planning for weeks, anticipating this might happen. And we want you to be a part of it.”
“Oh!” The manic smile fest now makes sense and their obvious excitement bubbles in my own belly. “I don’t know what to say!”
“Say you’ll join us. At least come have coffee with us while we finalize our business plan,” Jim pleads. He pulls his key fob from his pocket to automatically start the BMW. She purrs to life, smooth, calm, and ready to take on the open road.
“Coffee and a job offer? I can’t turn either of those down!” I laugh. Fuck. This morning’s been a rollercoaster of emotions. “Shortest job hunt ever! I didn’t even make it to my Jeep!”
“Let’s meet over at the Starbucks on Bernard. Time to make this official and start our company.”
I leave with a genuine smile on my face, and the affirmation that working hard really does pay off. Hell, maybe Superstition Graphix didn’t notice, but at least Jim did! And to be my age at this point in my career with the opportunity to be on the ground floor of a business venture? I can’t hide my smile as I crank up my music and let the wind mess my curly hair into a wild tangle of locks. I pause at the stoplight and pick up my phone to call Chase, to share my good news, but my thumb hovers over the button too long and the light turns green. Fuck that. I’m not going to be the first to call and he’s not going to steal my joy, not in this moment. We need to talk, but that’ll have to wait. If he calls he can leave a message, because Callie Gordon’s busy being an entrepreneurial badass.
I love adventure.
There’s something life affirming about scrounging up the courage to take a leap of faith and do something new, exciting, and frightening as fuck. That’s how I feel now. A little overwhelmed but positive all the same as I hash out business ideas and company set up with my new partners. Partner—not employee or boss—because in this company we all have equal shares in the business. Pinch me now!
We’ve been at this for hours, moving sometime after two over to the little deli kitty corner to the coffee shop, and I’m thoroughly impressed at how much work four smart, talented, and highly motivated individuals can accomplish in a day.
Jim closes his laptop and slides it in his messenger bag. “Okay, I think that’s all for now. Let’s meet back up tomorrow. Is anyone opposed to meeting at my house? I’ve got a basement we can use until we’ve secured a loan and office space.”
“That’s fine with me.” Elle nods, and tucks her smartphone into her bag.
“Super duper,” Rose smiles. I like Rose, I do, she’s only six years older than me, outgoing and friendly. But she loves to say super, more often pairing it with duper, and after a full day of work I’m really starting to hate the word.
“Callie?” Jim asks.
“That’s s—” Shit, I’m succumbing to the influence. I almost said super. “Perfect. I’ll just need the address.”
“I’ll email everyone when I get home. Now, wish me luck. My wife was hopeful I’d be spared the layoffs. Gotta break the best bad news of my life. She just doesn’t want me working from home!”
I wave and offer my farewells and steer my car toward the mall. I need to purchase a laptop and want to shop around first. My college computer died my senior semester and I was too cheap to purchase another since my internship provided one much better than I could afford. This time I’m going all out. Since I’ll be designing from home I want a processor that can handle the graphics programs I’ll be using.
My phone sings through the Bluetooth and interrupts my thoughts. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Callie! It’s Troy.” His voice is muffled and his breath sounds strained as it comes through the line, almost as if he’s moving. Maybe he’s exercising? I don’t know why he’s calling but I’m curious.
“Hey, Troy. What’s up?”
“There was an accident and Chase is hurt.” A car door slams and Troy’s voice speaks into the speaker. “He’s on his way to Mercy—”
“I’m on my way,” I can barely get out. I look both ways and flip a U-Turn. My Jeep guns forward, my gut clenched with fear.
“Callie, you don’t need to—”
“I said I’m on my way.” I press end from my steering wheel control and enter the freeway onramp with acceleration I feel all the way to my bones. I don’t want to argue with Troy about whether I need to go. All I can think about is Chase injured, in the hospital, without me. And the way we parted last night—God dammit! If something happens to him before I can tell him I love him once more? I can’t even go there. I’ll never recover.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I murmur to the rush hour traffic. Thankfully, it’s moving, albeit at a much slower pace than I prefer. I’m only three miles from Mercy. It’s close to home. To the station. Damn it! What happened today? This is probably why he didn’t call. He was hurt. He wasn’t avoiding me.
I bounce my left leg in time to the nervous energy pulsing through my heart. He’ll be okay. I’m sure he will. He’s strong. Brave, but smart. He has to be fine.
I find a visitor’s space near the emergency room and run all the way to the admitting desk. A woman with a bored expression assesses my body as I skid to a stop before reaching her desk.
“I’m looking for Chase Matthews. He’s a fireman. Came in a few minutes ago, I think. I’m his girlfriend.”
She smacks her gum twice as her lips pull at one corner. “Sorry, hun. Family only. I can’t let you back, even for Chase.”
“Can you at least let him know I’m here?”
“I’m not his answering service!” She lets loose a chuckle. “If I let every woman in who was looking for that man, I’d need a revolving door.”
I don’t find her humor funny. Or her insinuation.
“Callie?” Cameron struts through a set of double doors. His boots drag across the floor with his swagger. I jog to meet him half way.
“Is Chase okay?” I choke the words out. The tears I was holding back all rush to the corners of my eyes and trickle down my cheeks.
“He’s fine.” Cam laughs and slings one arm around my shoulders. “What the fuck did he tell you?”
“Nothing. Troy called and said he was hurt.”
“That dumbass fucker.” Cameron shakes his head again. He turns and pushes a button to reopen the doors and leads me down a hallway. “Come on, let’s go see our boy
. He’s just fine.”
“Fine?” I can’t believe that’s true.
“Everything but his ego. Well, his pretty boy toe has seen better days.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll let him tell you. In here.” He points to a curtain and pulls it back to reveal my boyfriend. My man. Looking . . . completely normal in his county standard gym shorts and fire tee. His eyes are closed and mine scan every inch of his body for signs of distress. Something. But he’s just sitting there with his earbuds in and eyes closed, looking gorgeous as ever. He doesn’t even look dirty.
Cameron drops his arm from my shoulder and walks next to the hospital bed and catches Chase off guard with a punch to the gut. Chase’s eyes fly open and he yells “Fuck!” at the same time I yell “No!” and rush to his side. I push Cam out of the way.
“Callie? Why are you here? Are you all right?”
“I came as soon as I heard.” I sit on the edge of his bed and frame his face with my hands in a caress.
Cameron mutters, “Pussy,” from behind us but I ignore him and search Chase’s eyes. Chocolate, melted, and hot as ever.
“What happened? Where are you hurt?”
Chase glances around and Cameron snickers.
“Oh, would you get the fuck out?” Chase glares over my shoulder.
“Love you too, little bro.”
“Get out!” This time Chase shouts. Cameron’s laughter, along with the drag of his boots fades down the corridor and we’re finally left alone.
I search his face. “Chase?”
“This is so embarrassing. Promise me you won’t think less of me.” His eyes are pleading, intense. I nod. “You know that show on television; the one where they set up all sorts of extreme obstacles?”
“The ninja one?”
“Yeah. Well, the guys and I, we were pretty bored on shift today, no calls, and we decided to set up a course of our own for training.”
I nod for him to continue and he glances down at his foot. It’s then I see he’s got it wrapped in a bandage.
“What happened? Was there an accident?”
“I dropped a helium tank on my baby toe. Might’ve broken it.”