by Leanne Davis
The thing impossible not to notice was her blue hair. It varied in streaks of black and blue, and it was odd. He’d grown used to it, however, after seeing her a couple of times and it now seemed normal for her to have it. She was small, like a child, and her body was as flat and skinny as a young boy. Her height seemed stunted, even by middle school standards. She wore her clothes at least one size too big. There was nothing to ogle, no curves to stare at, and yet… he did. He stared at her breathtaking face. She had that unique look even back in high school, when it was literally a statutory mistake for him to notice her. But notice her did, just as he did now.
What the hell? Why? Because she seemed so pathetic when she curled up, as if defeated, in his car? It only made him want to protect her, soothe her, and slay her fucking dragons. Like dragging her away from her loser husband. So? She was pathetic. She was young. So he reacted to that. It didn’t mean anything was wrong with him. He sensed desperation in her that could stimulate her desire to achieve, and to work. He sensed she’d have a deep loyalty to whoever helped her; and it was strictly a professional loyalty that he sought, and a professional relationship that he foresaw for them.
“Is it enough?”
He snapped back to the present. “What?”
“You were silent so long, I thought maybe I still didn’t look right.”
“You look fine. I was thinking more why I offered you this job.”
She tilted her head in puzzlement and he shifted his feet under her scrutiny.“I figured you had that worked out already, but why did you?”
“Because you needed it.”
She smiled wanly. “Is it that obvious?”
“That you could use a break? Yeah, it is.”
“Lately, I can’t seem to get my shoes tied correctly, so it feels nice to be… noticed, and thought of, and believed in.”
He turned away and went behind his desk, seeking the professional barrier of it to keep him from looking into her eyes. But it was mostly to keep him from asking her why she had so thoroughly attached herself to such a loser husband. It was time to turn to business, and keep it there, and he knew he had to keep them in familiar territory of which he was sure about.
“So you’ll go down one floor to Suite 1043, where Judy Hemmings, our human resource manager, will get you started. She’ll show you to your desk and your department. From there, you’ll meet your manager, Steve Applebaum. He’s a good guy and will answer all your questions.”
“There are two floors?”
“Three. This, however, is the only one that visitors can easily access. There’s a private elevator at the end of this hall that will take you to the rest of the company offices.”
“At what point will I learn what exactly we do?”
He shook his head and his lips curled up in small smile. “You might not completely. But you’ll learn everything you need to know for your job.”
“Which has nothing to do with what you do in your job?”
“No. Nothing.”
“And these people… Are they under orders to tolerate me because you gave me this job?”
“No. Only Bev knows anything about my involvement. They don’t know anything about you. You’re all on your own from here.”
“Good.”
“Why’s that good?”
“Because then they won’t hate me and think the boss brought me in. So everyone calls you Mr. Lassiter, right?”
He nodded. When he first put the company together, it always felt odd to be “Mr. Lassiter” to so many people, and to be in charge, as the leader, the boss, and the final decision-maker. That was years ago though, and now, he rarely thought about it, or even noticed it. He’d been running his little empire for six years now. Somehow, hearing Joelle’s questions brought it into sharper focus. And it felt a bit strange to hear Joelle calling him something so distant and formal.
“I hope this works out for you.”
“I’ll see that it does. Thank you… Nick.”
She walked out, and he watched her disappear down the corridor. He turned away abruptly as the door clicked shut. Glaring out of the gorgeous view of his office windows, he thought, This was absurd. He was practically leering at one of his employees, and a married, new employee at that. He never dated anyone who worked for him, and never, under any conditions, orchestrated friendly overtures toward married women.
Until now.
He would not start with Joelle Williams. He had to stop it now. He would forget Joelle, and see her as any other employee, or as his little sister’s old friend. So what if she were a lost, vulnerable girl, married to a man who would suck every ounce of life and happiness from her? That was her prerogative, not his. Not his business. She was no longer his concern as of now, other than pertaining to work.
****
Next Generation Consulting was the last place Joelle ever thought she’d find herself. She was working downtown! In one of the big, posh, professional skyscrapers. It was unbelievable. She now possessed the title of Administrative Assistant to the head of Accounting. The titles were numerous and meant nothing to her. Why couldn’t she just be called a secretary? It was a lot less confusing, but she couldn’t have been happier about it. To her surprise, she turned out to be good at it too. It wasn’t really difficult, just multi-tasking: lots of phone calls, note taking, filing, copying, and computer work.
She worked longer hours than she ever had before. She got up at five a.m. just to get into the office on time. At precisely five o’clock p.m., she went straight to the hair salon where she worked until nine and all day Saturday. She started feeling better, despite the long hours. Her new job was very fulfilling, and by the end of the month, she started to feel a marginal amount of pride for her success in working at Nick’s company. Plus, she was making more money than she ever had before. She managed to pay Nick back with more each week than she guessed she could afford.
She had to quit going to her Al-Anon meetings because she now worked each evening. But that was okay. She was feeling better, all the way around, so maybe it wasn’t really something she needed anyway. She rarely saw Nick except from a distance here and there. Once, they passed in the hallway, but he was in a deep discussion with someone, and he no more than nodded as he passed her. She was relieved. He really did just give her the job to help her out, and never sought out her company after that. He treated as he would any other lowly secretary in his firm. By giving her the job, he was only being friendly to her, and that made her like him all that much more.
She was gone so much of the time that she and Rob rarely got together. Rob was out late every night, and she was gone early each morning. It made his incessant drinking easier for her to tolerate because she witnessed it less often. She had only a handful of hours to spend at the house. She could pretend none of it was happening far easier by not being there to see it. But Rob didn’t like her new schedule. She was gone too much, and Rob kept nagging her to make his performances.
After several weeks of missing all of them, she promised she’d go the following Saturday night. Despite having to work until nine, with her feet killing her, and laundry to do, and although she could have used a decent meal, she agreed to go. Rob had, she rationalized, been on his own for weeks. He missed her; and needed her company and support. His music, he said, didn’t mean as much to him without her there to hear it… so she went.
It was noisy in the club that used to vibrate with fun and loud music to her. Now, she found it smoky and smelling of sweat and spilled alcohol, where it once encouraged her to grab a drink and start dancing. The club was too hot, physically making her sweat, although she used to feel quite at home walking through the tangle of bodies. Why did it seem so different to her now? So much less? It felt a lot less than it used to. And that bothered her and scared her. Zenith took the stage, and rocked it out for a while. Then finally, Rob sang, as he was meant to sing. It was a slow, beautiful ballad and closing her eyes, Joelle was lifted up to the sky. Her eyes popped open when the
lyrics registered. The song was new, and it was about her: Joelle. Her name was the song’s title. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she looked up to find Rob’s gaze locked on her. His expression was hot and intense and directed only at her. It was a beautiful moment; one that took her back to the beginning, back to their first years together. More tears filled her eyes, and she blinked to hold them back. Why was she tearing up? Because she was so touched? Or because those feelings no longer existed between Rob and her now?
But why? Why did her feelings change? In that moment, she didn’t know if they had simply grown up and changed, or chosen opposite directions. She wished she could say right then and there what she felt, or knew what was going on between them. But she couldn’t.
She decided to sit there for the four minutes of the song, allowing Rob’s voice to fill her up, and let her love for him feel brand new and boiling over inside her. She could do that. She could enjoy his music, and remember what they were once like. Slowly, the song came to a soft, almost fade-out ending. Beautiful. Haunting. But, somehow eerily too quiet. Was the song Rob’s way of telling her he loved the “old them,” and that the couple they were back then seemed to be fading quietly, and almost imperceptibly away?
There was loud clapping after a moment of surprising silence when Rob sang the last note. Perhaps the crazy, doped-up crowd actually got what a beautiful, talented, magnificent songwriter Rob was, with a beautiful voice to match. Then after a quick bow, the band started up again, loud and hard. The crowd went back to bumping, grinding, drinking and sweating.
Joelle just sat there, stunned. Would Rob ever write a song that would finally make him a star? Because if ever there were such a song, Joelle believed this one might do it. And if he did, how would she fit into that?
When she glanced up, found Nick Lassiter standing at the edge of the crowd, looking straight at her.
****
Nick didn’t know why he decided to go to that club. He was on-line, reading a local website on hot events of the area, when he came across the name, Rob Williams, lead singer of Zenith, who was playing all month at a local haunt. The reviews were strong and their popularity with the locals seemed to be growing exponentially by the week. Nick merely went because he wanted to see what Rob was like. He expected to find a mediocre singer who screamed more than sang, and a band that was louder than it was talented.
He was wrong. Rob was unlike any other singer he had heard live before. He was that good, that engaging, with a charisma that Nick failed to notice off stage, but nearly radiated from him on stage. He was the center of the world in there, and appeared comfortable being so. He wore leather and makeup, and somehow made it look sexy to the women who were nearly swooning over him. Zenith could probably play any song ever written. They were incredible, not only engaging, but almost endlessly talented. They certainly weren’t what he was expecting. He wrote Rob off as a lazy loser who let his wife shoulder everything, despite the obvious toll it was taking on her. Rob might be all that, but he was a hell of a musician, and a star performer. Rob was as good at his job as Nick was at his, and that revelation left him dumbfounded. This was what Joelle was working so hard for. What she was nearly making herself sick at in her efforts to succeed: Rob’s talent. And after hearing it for himself, Nick could almost see why.
It took an hour for Nick to spot Joelle in the crowd. He didn’t really expect to find her there, but he saw her sitting at a table with a crowd of six or so. Joelle seemed at ease, involved, and having fun, a demeanor like nothing he ever witnessed with her. With him, she was invariably nervous, quiet, and serious. Not now, she was smiling, talking, drinking, and for all appearances, at ease.
Wearing a skimpy tank top, black and very small, with a black leather skirt, leggings and her black boots, her hair was wildly twisted into a knot on her head, with random strands trailing down. Her makeup was thick and dark again, like well… the normal Joelle. But there was something about her that was too delicate to allow all the black, goth heaviness to look as dramatic and weird as he guessed she intended it to be.
All at once, the entire mood of the place changed. The lights quit bouncing around, and became lower, dimmer, and softer. Rob sat on a stool, pulling his guitar in front of him before he began to play. Then, he added his best musical instrument: his voice in a quiet, but steady, crescendo. The words were soft and sweet, and all about Joelle. The entire song was about Joelle, and by the time the chorus confirmed it, Nick was what? What was he? Surprised the man could sing so sweetly to and about his own wife? Joelle was visibly rapt. Her eyes closed, and then opened as her gaze locked onto her husband’s. Nick didn’t really believe that she was married. He knew she was, but it seemed like more of an abstract condition she was afflicted with. Everything she said and did was about her: the jobs she had to do, the bills she had to pay, the money she needed. It was never about them, or we or our. It wasn’t like Rob was even a part of her daily struggle to survive.
But at that moment, he finally saw it: Joelle was very much in love with her husband, and this man was indeed her husband. Even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, in the bigger picture kind of way, they seemed to love each other. Why did that so surprise him? Why did it… what? Bother him? Yeah, maybe it did. Maybe it bothered him a lot. There was no explanation for it, at least, none that he could find to enlighten him as to why that would be. Joelle shut her eyes, took a long, deep breath, and, unexpectedly looked up… directly at him. Her eyes widened with shock. Her neck jerked back and she turned her head away from him. She instantly got up and pushed through the crowd until she disappeared. What could have upset her so much about seeing him there? Was it something else? The song? Was the love song so touching, she couldn’t listen to it in a public place like this? He didn’t try to go after her. Too personal. Too much like he came here specifically for her. When the real reason he came here was… why again? Oh yeah. To check out her husband and see what he was like, so it was not entirely because of her.
****
“Nick?”
Nick turned when he heard her voice behind him. “Hey, Joelle,” he said, keeping his tone easy.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just out.”
“Here?”
“Yeah, here,” Nick said, nodding towards a table where some of his friends sat. “Those are my friends. Like to meet them?”
“You’re here with your friends?”
He almost smiled at her tone. Did she not believe he actually had friends? Or was she convinced he was waiting for her? Or seeking her out? Or something equally as lecherous?
“Yeah, friends. I do have them, you know. That song, must be your favorite, I’d guess?”
“It’s new. This is the first time I’ve ever heard it.”
“Amazing. He’s great, you know.”
“Yes. He is. Surprised?”
“Yes. Was I that obvious?”
“Yes. You surprised me, showing up here.”
“Like I said. Out.”
“Of course. Out,” Joelle said, finally glancing up into his eyes.
Before he could answer, the band was leaving the stage amidst loud cheers and ovations. Joelle looked past Nick before her band found her and immediately surrounded her. The entire band was smiling, nodding, and graciously accepting compliments. Nick was surprised at how famous they seemed already in the small club. People automatically sensed the band was special, that it was going somewhere, and they treated them like it had already.
Rob found Joelle, blind to the blonde bombshell who was trying to get his autograph, because his eyes were zeroed in on and only seemed to see Joelle.
“So, baby, what do you think of your song?”
Nick was close and had no choice, but to overhear them. He wished right then that he couldn’t.
“I had no idea. Is that why you were so insistent I come here tonight?”
“Yeah, we finally got it right. I think it’s the one, baby, the one that’ll take us to the top. And it
’s for you, baby; what was it?”
“It was us.”
“Exactly. It took me four years to write us perfectly.”
“We haven’t been so perfect lately; we need to talk about some things.”
“I know, baby, I do,” he said before kissing his wife as deeply and soundly as the song claimed he felt about her. Apparently, Nick was completely wrong about Joelle, Rob, and her drowning with too much responsibility. He found it hard to believe he could’ve read her so completely and utterly wrong. It sure looked to him like she wasn’t as vulnerable as he previously thought. She was just fine, it seemed.
Nick wished to be anywhere, but standing within only a few feet of Joelle and Rob Williams. Although his back was turned on them, it was still impossible not to follow their conversation with them in such close proximity, despite the crowd and the noise. Great, Rob managed to win back his wife. Maybe now he might notice Joelle is about to pass out from exhaustion and stress. What exactly did they have to discuss? Rob’s drinking problem? Or the reliance that Rob and his band burdened her with in every aspect of their physical and monetary needs?
Finally, they parted company, or rather, Rob let Joelle go. She was well aware Nick was standing there, still waiting on her. He gathered she was reluctant to display as much ardor as Rob did in Nick’s presence. For all her dark makeup and clothes, she wasn’t really the rebel or deviant miscreant she tried to personify.
She was always on time, even early to work every day. She wore more conservative clothes, and filled her days at work with diligence and a proficiency that had her manager, Steve, raving about her in no time. He knew for certain, from the regular updates he requested, that she caught her own mistakes, as well as others. She was intelligent, polite, and reliable. And already excelling in the tasks of her job. Steve had already made the recommendation that she’d be far better off doing something beyond the secretarial work she was originally hired to do.