by Max Hudson
“Do you know that regional sales position that we’re still trying to fill?”
“Yup,” she replied with no hesitancy.
Luca took a deep breath before he continued, digging his hands into the soft fabric of the sofa under him. He was hesitant to ask this, but the worst that could happen was that he was rejected. He had dealt with things much worse than rejection lately. If she said no, everything would go back to normal. At least the new normal, whatever that was.
“What are you thinking, Luca?” Fallon asked, interrupting his train of thought and making him remember that he was in a conversation and not just thinking to himself.
“Right,” Luca said, clearing his throat. He tried to concentrate on sounding self-assured. He normally had no problem with that, but with the way that everything had gone lately, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his voice cracked when he spoke about this. “Well, Fallon, you know that it's very unlikely that I'm going to be able to do sales presentations at least for a few months after I get back to work.”
There was no answer to that. They both knew it was true. Fallon was just waiting for Luca to say what he needed to say, but he was still trying to gather his courage. He cleared his throat again before he spoke. “Fallon, you know that I have the skills, and I have the drive to do this.”
“To do what exactly?”
“I could be the new regional sales manager,” he said. “If I got enough training. I know that the company prefers to hire from the inside and I’m a self-starter. I’ve always over-performed with targets, and I’m the kind of person that the company should have selling its product to stores. Think about it, Fallon, I’m the poster boy for Athlete List.”
She was quiet for a second, then she laughed. “You know what I've always liked about you, Luca?”
He couldn’t help but crack a smile. “No,” he replied. “But I'm guessing you're going to tell me.”
When she answered, he could hear the smile in her voice. “You’re ballsy.”
“Thanks?”
“It’s a compliment,” she answered. “I don’t know anyone else who would call and ask for a raise after an accident. Only you’d do that.”
“I’m going to take it as one,” Luca said.
“Why?”
Luca winced at that question. He hadn’t been expecting her to question his motives. He hadn’t been expecting an impromptu interview, in fact, he had called her on something of a whim. He half-expected her to laugh at him when he had called her, but she hadn’t done that, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react when she was taking him seriously. “Uh, what do you mean why?”
“I mean, why do you want the job?”
“Why wouldn’t I want the job?” Luca replied. “The raise is sizable. It would fit more with my skills, at this point, in any case. I deserve a promotion, and you know that’s true.”
Fallon was quiet for a minute. “Let me rephrase that,” she said. “Why do you want the job now? Why didn’t you ask for the job before, when we were struggling to fill the vacancy?”
“Well, I didn't think that was my career path, to be honest with you,” Luca said.
She was quiet for a few seconds. Fallon was the queen of silences; she didn’t mind waiting for a long time for any of them to talk. It gave them time to reflect on their answers, which Luca always appreciated.
If they were taking too long, she would walk away and come back with the same question.
When Luca spoke, his voice was quiet and his words spaced out deliberately. He wanted to make her understand that he was serious about this.
It might have been an unconventional time to ask for a raise and a promotion, but Luca had a lot of time to think after the accident and he was almost positive that he deserved it.
“Fallon, you know that I thought that I would be a personal trainer, or something like that eventually.”
“That’s true,” she replied. It was no secret to any of them that Luca’s aspirations were mostly physical. He liked working out, which was the main reason that the company had hired him way back in the day. The company was so big that Luca could take on whatever job he wanted within the company, eventually. At least that was how they had sold the job to him when they were offering it. He hoped that they stayed true to their word, because that made all the difference in his life right then.
“I don't mind course-correcting,” Luca said. “Seriously, Fallon. I want to stay with the company, but if I can't, that's okay. I'm a valuable employee, and you know it. I want to go back to being able to do my job well. It's up to the company to make that happen, so that's why I'm calling you and asking you for a raise right now.”
Fallon seemed to think this over. “Okay,” she said. “I mean, you’ve convinced me, but you know that you need to talk to Michael about it before anything happens.”
“Right.”
“So can you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Talk to Michael,” she said. “I know that you’re still hurt and I don’t know if you want to come down here to do it so—”
“Can you make that happen, Fallon? I know you have his ear.”
“I can recommend you,” she replied. “I will recommend you.”
“That doesn’t sound like you’re very confident that he’ll say yes,” Luca said quietly.
“I think he should say yes, Luca,” Fallon replied quietly. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that he had heard her walk away from where she was. Her office was right across from Michael’s office and he was the kind of boss who seemed to have a special stealth skill. He was some sort of genius, and everyone agreed that he was better at his job as an innovator instead of his job as a CEO. But everyone put up with him, hoping that a little bit of his genius would rub off on them. Luca couldn’t blame them—he didn’t like admitting it, but he was a little guilty of that himself. He had heard that it came with the territory when someone worked for a genius, but he didn’t realize how true it was until he had started working for Michael Hopper. He didn’t like crossing his path, though, because Michael really didn’t seem like the kind of person that should be running a business.
He seemed like the kind of person that should be in a basement, working on his next million-dollar idea. That’s why he understood why Fallon couldn’t say yes to his request off the bat, though, because they were at the mercy of Michael’s idea of what the company should be. Not that he ever shared it with anyone. He wasn’t the sharing type.
“Okay,” Luca replied after a little while. He was sure that he sounded defeated, but he also wanted to make Fallon understand that he knew it wasn’t her fault. “I get it. Thank you for the help.”
“You know how temperamental he is,” she replied. “It might be that he chooses someone else, or that he doesn't want to give you that specific position because of the accident. By the way, if that happens, come to me, and I will convince him to give it to you.”
“Okay…”
“But the issue is that you’re going to have to meet him before he decides to give you any work,” she said. “So are you going to be able to do that?”
“Sure,” he said.
“I mean, like, tomorrow,” she replied. “Listen, Luca, they’re interviewing people now. Michael is going to find someone he likes and he’s going to offer them the position, a position which, in my opinion, you have made an excellent case for and should go to you. So I need you to commit. Do you think that you’ll be able to commit to seeing him tomorrow?”
He bit his lower lip. “Sure,” he said. “Can you make it some time after lunch? That’s when I’m in the least amount of pain.”
“I can make that happen,” she replied. “But Luca, you really have to bring you’re a-game. Are you sure that you want to do this?”
“It’s not about want, Fallon,” he replied. “I need to do this.”
“You need to do it,” she echoed.
He sighed. He didn’t want to explain to her what would become of his career if t
his didn’t work out for him. He had a feeling that Fallon didn’t know the extent of his injuries, just that there had been an accident and that he had been seriously hurt.
That was probably part of the reason that she hadn’t been expecting his call. In truth, even Luca hadn’t known that he was going to be making this phone call, at least not until Brooklyn had left.
If there was one thing that Brooklyn had made very clear, though, it was that Luca needed to keep living for himself.
This was the easiest way to do that. Taking the rein of his very own career seemed like part of a concrete plan to make sure that his life was on the right track. He still needed to find out what had happened with Derek, of course. The most important thing, though, was his ability to keep moving forward. Once he had gotten far enough, he was sure—well, maybe not sure, but almost sure—that Brooklyn would agree to go out with him.
He hated how much of a motivating factor that was, but he had to admit that it was true. He was looking forward to being able to ask Brooklyn out, to have him say yes. In fact, in his head, he had already planned their first date.
He needed to get his head out of the clouds, though. It wasn’t as if it was that easy.
Things were never that easy. Not lately, anyway.
He decided that he would take a nap before he had to get ready for his date. Not date. Whatever it was.
He was going to go there, speak to Derek, and then he was going to go back to his life. Back to his regular, normal life. It might be a little bit different than it had been before, but Luca didn’t think that it would be that different.
He wouldn’t let it be that different.
Before he could even drag himself to bed for a nap, though, his phone rang. It was a number that he didn’t recognize. Normally, he wouldn’t have picked up, but Brooklyn had been right. Of course he had been right and Luca hated that he had ever doubted Brooklyn in the first place. The hardest part of it wasn’t at all the pain, though that part sucked, or the limited mobility, though that part sucked just as badly.
The hardest part of it was the silence. When there was nothing to talk about, or no one to talk to, the bits where all he could think about was what had happened during the accident, those were by far the hardest parts. Luca regretted that he had ever doubted Brooklyn and he certainly regretted lashing out at him. Brooklyn clearly knew what he was talking about and it was on Luca to listen to him.
He felt a bit like an idiot now as he picked up the call from this number that he didn’t know. “Hello?”
“Hi,” the person on the phone said. “May I speak to Luca Jones?”
“That’s me,” Luca said, closing his eyes. He was in no mood to deal with a spam call.
“My name is Sandra. I’m your insurance agent.”
“You’re my… insurance agent?”
“That’s right,” Sandra replied. “I’m Sandra Sultana, and so far, I’ve been dealing with your family. I was so sorry to hear about your accident, Mr. Jones. How are you feeling now?”
“Well, honestly, I’ve been better,” he replied. “But I’m okay.”
“Can you talk to me about your claim for a bit? This is all very straight-forward stuff. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes of your time.”
“Of course,” Luca replied. “What do you need from me?”
“Well,” she said. “We heard back from your mechanic.”
Luca blinked, then his eyes widened. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought about his mechanic, not even once. He hadn’t thought about his bike at all, in fact. He wasn’t the kind of person who was a crazy biker—he liked bikes, of course, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been on a motorcycle on the freeway. But he wasn’t crazy about it, like some of his friends were. A motorcycle was fine, as long as it remained a mode of transportation. Wanting it to be anything else was, as far as Luca was concerned, a little bit crazy. Still, he loved that motorcycle. He had worked hard so that he would be able to buy it outright instead of paying it off little by little, and he loved the way he looked on it.
If he hadn’t liked it, he certainly wouldn’t have used it to go to work every day. There was something amazing and freeing about being on a motorcycle. At least if everything was going right, Luca thought.
“Mr. Jones?”
“Sorry,” Luca said. “I’m here. Sorry, you were saying something about my mechanic?”
“That’s right, Mr. Jones,” she said. “We just heard back from him. It looks like you’re going to have to write off the motorcycle. You will, of course, get a settlement from us, but—”
“Wait,” Luca said, blinking. “Are you serious?”
“Your mechanic hasn’t called you yet?” Sandra asked. She sounded surprised.
“I haven’t been the one dealing with them,” Luca said. “I was in no condition to.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Jones. I’m so sorr—”
“Cool it with the Mr. Jones, Sandra,” Luca said, a little more irritably than he had meant to. “I’m sorry. My father is Mr. Jones. I’m Luca.”
“Okay, Luca,” Sandra said. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression that you had already spoken to your mechanic, since you already paid the deductible and—”
“Wait,” Luca said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean I already paid the mechanic?”
“We’re covering your remainder,” the agent said, as brightly as she had said everything else.
“Listen, Sandra—is it Sandra?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Sandra,” he said. “Let me call you back later today or tomorrow, okay? I clearly need to be caught up with things because I didn’t even realize that my bike was in the shop.”
“Oh, of course, Mr—”
“Thank you,” Luca said before he heard her say it again. He ended the call and looked at his phone.
He closed his eyes, wondering when the last time he had seen his motorcycle was. He remembered getting on it and riding it to work, or at least attempting to do so. He remembered merging on to the freeway, paying attention, doing it right.
After that, his memory got a little fuzzier. Well, a lot fuzzier. He remembered being knocked off his bike, he remembered the way that the asphalt felt under him, all grainy and hot.
He also remembered the grass. The grass, unlike the asphalt, wasn’t hot. It was wet and mushy, he thought. He remembered all of the textures of the accident, for some reason—the way his mouth tasted at the time, the way it felt like there were lots of little stones in it along with the brassy taste of his own blood. But as much as he closed his eyes and tried hard to remember, he couldn’t recall seeing his bike at all.
He wished that he could. He supposed that he must have been knocked so far away from it that it made sense that he hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t thought about his bike at all over the past few days. He hadn’t thought about riding, not for fun or for transportation. But his motorcycle was his only mode of transportation, because he had never needed a car. He knew how to drive a car, but it had been a while.
Great, he thought with a sigh. Just another way that he found himself having to depend on other people. A big one, too. He was going to have to get a car, he thought. He would much rather get a motorcycle, really, but he had heard his parents talk to his sister and announce how worried they were about him. The last thing that Luca wanted to do was worry his parents more than necessary.
He would drive for a year or so and then slowly get them used to the idea that he would be riding his motorcycle again. It was like when he had first come out. They hadn’t rejected him—not at all—but they had worried about him. His parents had read him statistics about suicidal and depressed LGBTQ+ kids and Luca hadn’t been quite sure what to make of them.
Now, years later, he knew that it wasn’t that they were telling him to change. It was that they were asking him to be careful. He hadn’t listened to them then because they were overprotective, but at this point, as an adult, he would have felt bad if he had
caused them undue worry.
He was still too wound up to really call them, because he was angry that they hadn’t told him anything about the bike. Intellectually, he got it, but it didn’t make him feel less angry about it. They probably didn’t want to worry about him getting on a bike again. And Luca didn’t want to worry about having to speak to his parents about something unpleasant, not if he didn’t have to.
His day had already been hard enough. He didn’t need to make it harder. He lay his head back on the sofa, looked at the ceiling and allowed himself to drift into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter Eight
Luca was woken up by someone knocking on his door. He hadn’t gotten ready and he hadn’t realized how late it was. He groaned, picking up his phone from his lap, and looked at the time. It was half past eight and Luca didn’t remember, for a second, that he had said that he was going to go out to dinner with Derek.
He remembered now, as the insistent knocking persisted. He looked down at his phone and saw a couple of missed calls. Instantly, he felt a pit in his stomach. He read the texts from Derek, realizing that Derek was telling him that he was going to be late, and that he should be ready by eight thirty. Of course Luca wasn’t ready. He had drooled all over his chin and his hair looked stupid. He also needed to change—it wasn’t a date, but he at least wanted to look presentable.
He stood up quickly, far too quickly. He had forgotten all about the accident for a second. All that he remembered was that he was late for a date with his boyfriend. Then, when he stood up and started to land on the floor because he couldn’t find his footing quickly enough, he remembered exactly why he was meeting up with Derek. His face hit the floor hard and it sent a shooting pain down his entire body.
He wasn’t sure how long he was there, on the floor, with his mouth hanging open. The knocking didn’t stop. He grabbed his phone, which had fallen with him, and texted Derek back to tell him that he would be right at the door.
He wasn’t sure that he would be right at the door. It definitely felt like a lie. He tried to get himself to his feet, but it was as if his body wasn’t responding to his commands. He tried to drag himself to the door, not realizing that he was literally dragging himself. It certainly didn’t feel good and it didn’t feel very good that he couldn’t get up by his damn self.