The Cabin

by Alice Ward

  “Let’s get you dressed first,” Tara said. She grabbed my arm and led me over to a small tent. “Your clothes for today are hanging up inside.”

  “I still don’t understand why I can’t just wear my own clothes,” I grumbled.

  “Because your babysitter says no,” Tara smirked. She looked annoyed, but I smiled nonetheless. It was nice to see her drop the act for once.

  “Funny,” I said.

  “Get dressed,” she ordered. I ducked inside the tent and changed quickly.

  My dad was right. The clothes were similar to what I always wore. I traded my black t-shirt for a white one and slid on jeans that were one shade darker than my own. The jacket they laid out for me was black with the Ray Yates logo on the shoulder. I slid it on easily. The fit was perfect, but it felt stiff. I flexed my arms and tried to loosen it up before I left the tent.

  “Do I wear my own shoes?” I asked Tara.

  “Yes,” she said. I slid them back on my feet and followed her over to the bikes. “Which one do you want to pose with first?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “You certainly have less opinions today,” she noted.

  “Well, my father isn’t here,” I reminded her. “Neither is my brother.”

  “I see.” Tara nodded. She turned quickly and shouted a few directions to the photographers. They descended upon me quickly.

  Someone moved the first bike into the shot while more people pulled at my hair and fixed my collar. They poked my face and talked among themselves about the possibility of putting makeup on me.

  “Not a chance in hell,” I growled.

  “It may be necessary,” the first photographer said.

  “We want to get the best shots possible,” the other agreed.

  “Authentic,” Tara reminded them, walking back over to us. “We’re going for authentic. Do you really think everyday bikers walk around with blush and concealer on their faces? Come on, guys. Work with me.”

  “Fine,” the first photographer said. “Whatever you want.”

  The shoot wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. They sat me on the bike and told me to act natural. I straddled it and flexed my fingers over the handlebars. They shouted instructions to me, and I obeyed without much trouble. Everything they wanted was natural to me. “Sit this way” and “Look over here” were simple directions.

  Still, it felt strange to have so many eyes on me. I had to remind myself why I was there. I pictured Paisley’s face. I thought of all the art supplies I could buy her and the new swimsuits she might want. She was the one thing that kept me going during the shoot.

  When Tara had the idea for me to kneel and pretend to work on the engine, everything seemed to fade away. For a split second, I wasn’t in the middle of a Ray Yates’ showroom. I wasn’t working for my father. I was back at the repair shop, back in my element.

  The photographers raved about the shots they were getting, and when we finished, even Tara was smiling. She walked over to me and nodded approvingly.

  “That wasn’t terrible,” she said.

  “That’s quite a compliment,” I fired back.

  “Tomorrow, we move on to public speaking,” she said, ignoring my response. “We have some things planned for you and it would help if we could—”

  “Public speaking?” I asked. My good mood faded entirely. “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Tara asked with narrowed eyes.

  “I won’t speak on behalf of this company,” I said firmly. “Modeling is one thing. If you want me to pose with a few bikes, I can do that. But I won’t speak.”

  “You have to,” she said simply.

  “I won’t.”

  “It’s in your contract, Sean,” she said. “You don’t have a choice.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tara

  Ray knocked on my door early Wednesday morning. I’d been at the office for a couple hours already. I was busy working on my notes for the day. Sean and I were going to discuss a few things about public speaking. Not wanting to forget a thing, I had been jotting down notes all morning.

  “How did it go with Sean yesterday?” Ray asked as he walked inside and took a seat across from me.

  “It was good,” I said, nodding. I set my pen down and turned to face Ray. “A lot better than I expected, honestly. He didn’t have any problems following directions. He didn’t even complain about the clothes. Not too much, anyway.”

  “Did the photographers get some good material?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I think so. They’ll be sending the shots over by Friday, so we’ll see how they turned out. I’m confident, though. It looked great. Real. Honest. This is going to work, Ray. I’m sure of it.”

  “That’s great.” Ray smiled, but he still looked concerned. “What do you have planned for today?”

  “Sean’s coming in to go over a few things,” I said. “That attitude of his needs some serious work. I don’t see how we can let him speak until we deal with that. He’s not big on the idea of public speaking.”

  “No,” Ray said. “I don’t imagine he would be.”

  “He put up a fight about it yesterday,” I said with an understanding nod. “But I would have been surprised if he hadn’t. I made it clear that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. It’s in his contract, which he signed before the photoshoot. He’ll do it, or he’ll lose out. He understands that.”

  “I’m sure he does,” Ray nodded.

  “Now, all that’s left is to work on his demeanor before his first public speaking event,” I said. “I want to get him poised before we put him up there. Otherwise, all the advertisements will mean nothing.”

  “Sounds good,” Ray said. “Just take it easy on him, okay?”

  Ray’s words took me by surprise. My train of thought derailed. I’d been moving full steam ahead with my plans, but Ray stopped me short. Take it easy on him. What did he mean by that?

  “Sean can be…” Ray continued slowly. “Well, he can be difficult, I know. But don’t be too hard on him.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, more confused than ever. “I won’t.”

  Ray smiled and left my office without another word. I watched him go, still frowning. I didn’t know where that came from. Sean treated everyone horribly. He acted like his brother didn’t even exist and like Ray was scum. He had yet to show me any real respect, and I couldn’t imagine he behaved any differently around other people. To me, he seemed like exactly the type of person you should be hard on.

  It didn’t make sense for Ray to make such an odd request. The impression I got was that Ray wasn’t the best father in the world to Sean. Why, then, was he all of a sudden worried about the way I treated his younger son?

  Just take it easy on him, okay? He can be difficult, I know. But don’t be too hard on him.

  For a moment, I remembered Sean explaining his lack of opinions at the photoshoot. He said his brother and father weren’t around. Was it possible that Sean’s behavior was centered around them? That he wasn’t usually so hard to work with? That, maybe his family just brought out the worst in him?

  I thought about the photoshoot. He was surly at the beginning, but it was nothing compared to the way he’d been in Ray’s office. That morning, he was hostile and angry. His very being radiated with rage. Yesterday, though…

  It didn’t make sense. Nothing between the Yates family made sense to me anymore, but I shook my head and decided not to worry about it. I would obey Ray’s wishes, but I wouldn’t put up with Sean’s attitude. If he lashed out, I would speak up. He needed to get himself under control if we were going to launch a successful ad campaign. Nothing else mattered.

  ***

  I sat in the conference room for almost an hour before Sean finally showed up. He walked in slowly, his jacket thrown casually over his shoulder. Without his jacket on, I could see his biceps bulging through his shirt sleeves. I’d never noticed before, but he was more muscular than I thought. His t-s
hirt fit tightly over his chest, and I had to force my eyes back up to this face. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, but when I met his gaze, I felt my face flush slightly.

  He sat down across from me without a word. His blue eyes found mine, and he shook his hair out of his face. It was shaggier than normal, more unkempt, but it looked good. Better than good. I found myself wishing I could reach over and run my fingers through it. I shook myself and remembered where I was.

  “You’re late,” I said simply.

  He shrugged. “Just a little.”

  “An hour,” I corrected. “You’re an hour late.”

  “Okay,” Sean said. He didn’t bother to offer an apology. He looked at me with mild amusement and leaned back in his chair.

  “Look,” I said. I leaned forward and glared at him. “There are a few things I won’t put up with. Being late is just one of them. If it happens again, you’re gone. Is that clear?”

  “I’m gone?” Sean raised his eyebrows. It was a challenge. “What does that mean?”

  “Yes, gone,” I said firmly. “You can slink back off to your other life. We’ll find someone else.”

  “And here I thought you picked me for a reason,” Sean said. “I didn’t realize you had bikers lining up at the door for the gig.”

  I wanted to argue, but we were at a standstill. He knew we needed him, and I knew he needed us. The only thing I didn’t know was why he needed us. The money was good, better than good, but if he hated his father as much as he seemed to… it didn’t make sense. I glared at him and tried to figure out what his motives were.

  No amount of empty threats could change anything, though. I wasn’t going to fire him, and he wasn’t going to walk. We stared at each other, both wishing we had more leverage to argue with. When I finally realized I couldn’t win, I sat back and exhaled loudly. There were a million things I wanted to say, a million petty jabs I wanted to make, but I didn’t. I stayed just as silent as he did.

  Finally, I broke the silence and cleared my throat. I adjusted the papers in front of me and slid a sheet over to him. He grabbed it and looked it over without interest.

  “This is a breakdown of our talking points,” I said. “I’d like to go through them one by one, so we can perfect your delivery of each. It’s vital that you don’t deviate from these points. If you do, things could get complicated. Before we go over them, though, there are few things you need to take note of.”

  While I spoke, Sean stared at the paper in front of him. His eyes didn’t leave it for a single second. The more I talked, the more impatient I became. He clearly wasn’t interested in anything I was saying. I didn’t know if he was even listening.

  “What I want you to remember,” I said firmly. “Is that sarcasm does not translate on screen. People don’t want to listen to someone who’s condescending. Frankly, your attitude can be a real turn off to people, so you’ll need to work on that. At least, while you’re speaking for the company. We can’t risk all our work being undone by your attitude. So, when you’re speaking, I need you to tone down the anger. Try to be yourself, but relax a little. Not everyone is your enemy.”

  Still, Sean didn’t respond. He was slumped in his chair with his eyes cast downward. I wanted to reach across the table and yank his chin upward, but I forced myself to relax. I remembered my promise to Ray and took a deep breath. I powered on, going through my list of talking points one by one.

  “Your apparel is fine,” I said. “Luckily, we won’t need to adjust your wardrobe for these events. We want you to appear trustworthy. If we cover you head to toe in Yates’ apparel, no one will believe you’re real. Everyone will dismiss whatever you say, because they’ll all just assume we paid you off. The photoshoots are one thing. Those are supposed to be advertisements, but public speaking isn’t. Or, at least, it shouldn’t appear to be.”

  I took a breath and waited to see if he would respond. He didn’t.

  “Also,” I continued. “Since you’re related to Ray, your credibility is already in question. We’re going to have to be careful about how we introduce you. We’ll probably go with the happy family explanation, but that may not sell. That’s something we can discuss later, though.”

  After thirty minutes of me speaking and Sean staring at the table, my patience was hanging on by a thread. I was almost to the end of my list and I wanted some indication that he was listening. A small nod would have been enough.

  “Remember to sound natural,” I said. “We’ll rehearse the talking points, but it’s important that you don’t sound rehearsed. We want it to seem like you just thought up these things on your own, like these are your actual opinions. If it sounds like corporate is feeding you your lines, everything will fall apart. Does that make sense?”

  Sean moved his head a fraction of an inch. It wasn’t a nod, but it was something. I thought it would make me feel better, but it only pissed me off even more. How could he sit there and just ignore me? Didn’t he realize that I was his boss?

  “Are you even listening?” I snapped. “This is important stuff. It will help you. I need to know you were paying attention.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic,” he recited, popping his head up to meet my glare with one of his own. “Keep my attitude in check. Wear my usual clothes, but make sure I’m clean and I look nice. Don’t deviate from the company’s line. Stay on script, but sound natural. Rehearse everything, but act natural while I’m speaking. Basically, hide the truth.”

  Sean’s words left me speechless. Not only had he successfully summarized my entire speech, but he’d made it sound juvenile and beneath him. I was both impressed and angry.

  “I know this all seems ridiculous to you,” I said. “But it matters to some of us. So, whether you like it or not, it’s your job. You might as well get used to it.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Sean asked.

  “Barely,” I mumbled. Sean opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp ringing interrupted his argument. He fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone.

  When he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, something new flashed across his face. His glib, uninterested expression was gone. He looked worried.

  “Hello?” Sean said, answering the phone. “Wait, what? When did this happen? Okay. Yes. Okay. Yeah. Uh huh. Alright, I’m on my way. Be there soon.”

  Sean jumped up from his chair and walked halfway across the room.

  “Where are you going?” I demanded. “Who was that?”

  “My ‘other life’,” he said. His tone was angry, but I didn’t acknowledge it.

  “Will you be back today?” I asked.

  “No,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll call you and let you know when I come in next.”

  “Tomorrow,” I called as he left the room. “Be here tomorrow!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sean

  When I pulled up to the school, I instantly wished I had taken my car to work that day. I bought my used car so I would never have to risk Paisley’s safety, but now, I didn’t have a choice. Every day before, I went home to get the car before picking Paisley up from camp. The phone call from Paisley’s coach told me there wasn’t time for that today. I parked my bike quickly and jumped off, already hurrying toward the front doors.

  Paisley’s swim camp was at a high school about five miles from my house. They used the indoor swimming pool at the far end of the main hallway. I ran down the hallway until I reached the double doors leading to the gym area. Pushing them open, I glanced around, not sure where to go. I felt panicked. I’d never been in this situation before and I had no idea how to handle it. Finally, I heard splashing to my left.

  When I found the pool, I immediately scanned the area for a sign of Paisley. I saw her on the other side of the pool, lying on a bench with a towel wrapped tightly around her small body. Even from far away, I could see that she was shivering. I ran over to her, almost colliding with two children on my way.

  “Paisley,” I said, squatting down beside her. Her eyes were clos
ed, but they fluttered open at the sound of my voice. They were bloodshot and her lips were pale. I gulped and put my hand on her forehead. She was burning up.

  “Mr. Yates?” a voice said from behind me. I whirled around quickly. A woman in a one piece stood above me. She wore a whistle around her neck and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  “Yes,” I said. “Hi. I’m Sean. Paisley’s father.”

  “I’m Coach Johnson,” the woman said. “I’m glad you’re here. Paisley came down with a pretty bad stomach bug. You should take her home.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. “Did she throw up?”

  “Yes,” Paisley muttered from behind me. I glanced back at her and my heart ached. She was clutching her stomach in a vicelike grip.

  “Do you think she needs to go to the hospital?” I asked the coach. I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but Coach Johnson’s knowing smile told me I wasn’t successful.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. It just looks like an ordinary stomach bug, but if she gets any worse she’ll need to see a doctor.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” Coach Johnson said. “I hope you feel better, Paisley.”

  “Thanks,” Paisley whispered.

  Coach Johnson turned her back to us and made her way over to the pool. She jumped in, blowing her whistle as she went. The rest of the kids swarmed around her, awaiting her directions. I watched them for a fraction of a second before I turned my attention back to Paisley.

  “Okay, honey,” I said softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  I threw Paisley’s bag over my shoulder and leaned down to help her up. Paisley tried to sit up, but she groaned so loudly I knew she wouldn’t be able to walk. I slid one arm under her knees and the other under her back. She was lighter than anything I’d ever carried. I held her close to my chest while I carried her out into the hall.

  Moving as fast as I could without jostling her, I moved through the school and out into the parking lot. Paisley’s eyes were closed again and she still held her stomach.