by Claire Adams
Stacey gasped. “Traitor! You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
“I am. Which is why I am staying out of this.”
They both looked confused and annoyed, as though they were completely clueless about where to go from here. It was comical. Nick and Stacey were the best couple I had ever seen: they were best friends first, and argued over everything from Nick’s video games to Stacey’s Cosmo-inspired women’s blog to pizza and gluten. I also happened to secretly know that they were both working extra shifts – Nick at the Southern Eastern University’s IT help desk, and Stacey at the library – to save money so they could surprise each other on their three-year-anniversary.
Stacey had been my best friend since 9th grade, and when she had met Nick – a freshman in college at the time – we were in our senior year of high-school. At first I was worried sick that we would grow apart after she had found a boyfriend, but it turned out that Nick was incredibly cool and we got along well. So much so that when Stacey and I joined him for college at SEU two years ago, moving into his two-bedroom apartment seemed the natural thing to do. Most people seemed surprised to learn that I lived with a couple, but to us it was just three best friends being roommates and goofing around the house. And my room was far enough away from theirs for me to not hear things I wouldn’t want to hear. I was going to miss them when we all graduated and they moved on to get married, have babies, and do other things couples do. I was a tad envious of what they had. They really were perfect for each other.
Watching their relationship had been one of the reasons I had grown to become ridiculously picky about men. The other reason was a guy I had dated my freshman year who cheated on me with a sorority girl. Rick – a Dick if there ever was one – was my first boyfriend, and things seemed to be going great as our first anniversary was approaching. I was going to lose my virginity to him that night. Everything was planned. Nick and Stacey were on a weekend getaway, I had cleaned and double-cleaned the apartment, bought candles and incense and all kinds of other romantic crap. I had cut my shift short so I could set everything up, but when I got home I caught him in bed, in my bed, with a blonde girl I had never seen.
I ended up getting drunk to try and wipe away the sadness, and that led to having sex with another bar-goer. When I woke up and saw my mistake next to me, I pledged that I would not casually date men, I would not settle for anything less than what Nick and Stacey had. One year later, I was still going strong on the pledge. Except for the part where I often dreamed of my boss’s naked body. These dreams were sporadic at first, but were occurring more and more frequently. I was still very firmly set on never acting on my feelings or falling for his advances.
I turned my attention back to Nick and Stacey’s bickering and gave up. “Guys, just get a medium pizza with rice-crust and a medium regular. Problem solved.”
After a short pause, I looked at Stacey with amusement. “I’ll be eating the regular, Stace, but I am still morally on your side.”
She threw a pillow at me and we burst into simultaneous giggles.
Half an hour later the doorbell rang.
“That should be the pizza,” Nick said, popping up.
“God I am starving. I hope they sent the extra pepper flakes. They always mess that up,” I said.
“I don’t understand your inability to consume any kind of food that doesn’t burn your soul.”
“It doesn’t burn, that’s the point. Not in a bad way, at least. Spice makes me appreciate the flavor more.”
“Weirdo.”
“Says the girl who refuses to eat regular pizza because she read something on The Great Internets.”
She scowled. “God, you’re starting to sound just like Nick.”
“Where did he disappear to anyway? It shouldn’t take this long to-” she stopped as Nick showed up looking utterly confused.
Instead of two pizzas, however, he was holding a giant bouquet of red roses.
“When I said I wanted gluten free, that’s not what I had in mind,” Stacey said. “But how sweet, Nick!”
His eyes widened. “No! No no. Shit. I can order you some flowers if you want! Sorry, baby. These are for Aria. From someone named Zayden.”
Stacey gasped loudly, covering her mouth. “Zayden as in-“
“As in her boss Zayden,” Nick finished her sentence, looking equally confused.
They were both looking at me sharply as though I would know what to say. As though I had been expecting flowers from my boss, who very likely had his assistant Lana order them for every teller he hadn’t yet gotten his hands on.
Nick handed me the flowers after picking out the note.
“Hey!” I shouted trying to reach for it. Nick was 6’5. I wasn’t going to win.
“Dear Aria,” he read out loud in a dramatic voice, his right arm over his chest. “I hope you enjoy the roses. One rose for each day until I change your mind.”
Nick gasped as Stacey counted: “Thirty roses!”
I felt myself get hot in the face with embarrassment, but a tiny bit of me fluttered in excitement. What the hell was wrong with me?
“There’s a P.S.” Nick announced. “P.S. I picked out the roses myself, so don’t bother thanking Lana tomorrow.”
“Have they developed technology to intercept brain-waves yet?” I looked at Stacey.
“No Aria, he can’t read your mind.” She flashed a huge grin. “You have a lover!”
“What?” I said louder than perhaps necessary. “I do not have a lover. Zayden – Mr.Sinclair – is not my lover.”
“Looks like he will be in about,” Nick surveyed the roses, “thirty days.”
I sighed. “No he won’t. I’ll return the roses.”
“No you won’t!” Stacey yelled, looking like I had just said I would amputate her imaginary puppy. “He’s a multi-squillionaire. And so handsome. So, so handsome. Are you stupid?”
“That’s not the point-” I stopped myself mid-sentence and gave her a suspicious look. “How do you know he’s handsome?”
“What?” she said defensively. “I read ZEN Magazine.”
Oh right. That. I had a copy of the issue with Zayden’s interview under my bed.
“I found it under your bed,” Stacy added. “You’re already kind of sleeping with him.”
“Shut up, Stace! Let’s just eat the pizza, watch some T.V., and never speak of this again.”
“Sure, if by never you mean thirty days,” Nick butted in.
“Thanks for the unsolicited opinion, Nicholas,” I said turning up the volume on the T.V. and getting under a blanket.
They continued to offer what they thought were clever comments but I tuned them out, focusing instead on the giant bouquet of red roses. Was I in trouble? Would he manage to get what he wanted in thirty days? He couldn’t take what I didn’t want to give. I felt a strange pang in my chest. The problem was, I was not entirely sure I didn’t want to give in. My cellphone rang, breaking the dangerous train of thoughts.
“Hi mom! How are you feeling?” I answered the phone.
“Hi sweetheart. I am doing much better. The doctors said I’ll be running around by the end of the month.”
I smiled. “I am so happy to hear that, mom.”
“Don’t be, we still have to pay for the stupid surgery. If I hadn’t gotten the damn surgery-”
“If you hadn’t gotten the surgery I wouldn’t have a mother,” I cut her off. “So you just worry about getting yourself all better, and I’ll worry about the bills.”
“Like you don’t have enough expenses paying your way through college. I’m sorry for being such a lousy mother, baby.”
“Don’t say that!” Tears formed in my eyes, ready to break free. “Having to file for bankruptcy because dad bailed on you after forcing you to co-sign on his loan does not make you a lousy mother. It makes you a good person who faced terrible consequences for being one. You need to stop blaming yourself. You took care of me all my life, now let me take care of you. It’s going
to be okay.”
“But-”
“No but. I’ll figure out a way to pay the hospital bills. You relax and get all pretty. It’s nine o’clock, John will be over with his daily tea service.”
She chuckled nervously. “What do you mean get pretty? He’s just my neighbor who likes to help out sometimes. And bring me mugs of tea. Just a…friend.”
“Okay mom, have fun with your neighbor-friend,” I laughed. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Take care of yourself.”
“Mom, I love you, bye!”
I hung up with a smile still on my face and tears in my eyes. I still couldn’t believe what my dad had done to her. I had no idea where he was now, what he was doing, if he ever thought about us. He left us to take care of ourselves and I started working at the age of fourteen, while my mom tried her best to fend for us, living paycheck to paycheck, while dealing with her heart condition. It all motivated me to work hard and excel in college so I could become a successful loan officer and give my mom all the things she deserved.
This was exactly why I could never let Zayden Sinclair get into my head again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath with new reserve.
The flowers had to be returned.
---
I walked into the loan officer’s desk feeling nervous. This morning Stacey had helped me dress up in her black suit, so I looked confident and mature enough to handle the situation. I had hoped the attire would kill the moths in my stomach, but no such luck so far.
“Hi, I am Aria,” I said, offering my right hand.
“Wilson.” His handshake was curt. “Take a seat, Aria. You’re one of the tellers here, correct? I see you whenever I walk in through the front.”
I nodded.
“How long have you been working here?” He was looking at his computer screen.
“Just about three months. I worked at State Park Bank for almost two years before that.”
“As a teller?”
I wanted him to get to the point.
“Yes, sir,” I said meekly.
“And you’re still in school?”
Why was he asking me these questions when he was obviously looking at a document that told him all the answers? Mr. Wilson was not helping the moth situation in my stomach.
“Yes, at Southern Eastern. Junior year.”
“Really?” He finally looked at me with raised eyebrows. “It says here that you have only been in college for two years.”
“Yes, but I had excellent grades in many AP classes so I had a whole year transferred over.”
“Impressive.” It didn’t sound like a compliment, for some reason. “Do you have any other jobs besides this one?”
“No, just the bank. But I work insane hours, so it’s practically two jobs,” I laughed nervously. He was not amused.
“I see,” he said and typed something on his computer.
There were a few minutes of silence during which the moths in my stomach participated in an intense war. I was just about ready to throw up. This loan was my only bet— the only way I would be able to pay for my mom’s surgery without dropping out of college. The future of my entire life depended on whatever this Wilson guy was typing on his computer.
When he finally looked up, my heart was pounding.
“Here’s the thing, Aria,” he said without a single expression on his face. “You seem like a smart girl with a very promising future. However, between your college tuition and loans and your own living expenses, and just this job to sustain yourself – even if it is, as you put it,” he paused to make air-quotes, “‘practically two jobs,’ there is just no way you will be able to handle a loan for 60,000 dollars.”
My heart fell, and I could feel my eyes start to prickle.
“But I will be out of college in a little over a year.” My voice was shaky. “And I will have an excellent job, I assure you, and my situation will change completely.”
“When that happens you can reapply for the loan.” He actually looked a little apologetic.
“I need to pay for my mother’s heart surgery.” I don’t know why I said it. Studying to be a loan officer, I knew that there was nothing Wilson could do personally. His reasoning was completely sound.
“I’m really sorry to hear that, and I wish the bank could help you out, but right now there is nothing we can do.”
“I understand.” I did. That didn’t stop me from wanting to run into the bathroom and bawl my eyes out. “Thank you.”
My face was swollen and covered in tears by the time I made it back to the teller’s booth.
CHAPTER 4
ZAYDEN
She was crying. Crying women made me uncomfortable. My mother knew this so well that I didn’t remember the last time I saw her without tears in her eyes. At first it was about my dad’s death, so I used to try and make her feel better, but slowly it became directed towards my dad, in bitterness. At first I didn’t understand why she would speak of her dead husband as though he were some sort of a monster, but snide comments here and there about how I was handling my billions and it all started adding up. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t left a single penny in her name, which made no sense to me at first either, but eventually the truth came out: she had been cheating on him for years. With his lawyer. Who also happened to be one of his best friends. He tolerated it while he was alive because he loved her or some nonsense of that sort, but apparently this “love” thing was not that big of a deal because he found a way to get back at her from the grave. It made me hate her for a little bit, which added to the endless crying, but she was still my mother and I found a way to tolerate her. I bought her a giant house in California, thousands of miles away from me.
Why was Aria Roberts crying? I debated whether to go over to her and what the implications of that would be. There was no question about the fact that I wanted her body, but approaching her at an emotional time might suggest I wanted more. That I cared about how she was feeling. Well, maybe that’s exactly what she wanted; maybe believing exactly that would be what broke her restraint. I got a strange feeling in my gut that I didn’t understand. I was the master of manipulation. I messed with women’s emotions all the time. The hint of moral fiber had to be because she was crying.
I shook my head and trotted over to the booth. She was the only person there. Her mascara had slightly run down her smooth, blushing olive cheeks, which made her look surprisingly sexy.
She seemed to be so phased out that when she noticed I was standing in front of her, she jumped. Quickly wiping her face with her palms, she said in a squeaky voice, “Good morning, Mr. Sinclair!”
“Liar,” I teased. “It doesn’t seem to be that good of a morning for you.”
“Oh, yeah, I am sorry about this. I’ll cut it out before a customer walks in, I promise.”
“Well, obviously, that’s what I came over here to say.” I was smiling. “It’s okay, Aria.”
That made her burst into a whole new bout of tears. I guess it wasn’t okay, whatever it was. Completely unsure of what to do, I told her, “Take a paid hour off. Walk around if you need to, take a break.”
“I can’t,” she said between sniffs. “Mrs. Brian won’t be here until noon and Kevin is sick. I’m the only teller on duty right now.”
“That’s okay, just take some time. I’ll man the booth,” I heard myself say.
She looked perplexed, but that made the crying slow down significantly. “What? You can do that?”
“The thing about owning the company, Aria, is that I can do whatever I damn well please.”
I must have come across strong because her expression turned into that of slight fear. I tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, expecting to feel her muscles relax; instead, I felt them tense.
“It’s okay. Just go for a little bit. It’s not a request.”
“Alright, alright,” she said, starting to sniff again. “I’ll just take a walk around the block and be back soon.” She pointed towards h
er face. “No more of this after that. I promise.”
The minute she walked out, I felt myself get angry. What the fuck was I doing? Teller in my own bank? To get into a girl’s pants. She better be worth it when I finally made it in there. I was working way too hard for this otherwise.
I even wanted to punch the young guy who had just materialized in front of me.
“I need to deposit a check,” he said.
I pointed towards the front exit. “There’s the ATM Machine. They take checks these days. And by these days, I mean the past ten years.”
He looked terrified and strutted out. I was lucky I was the CEO of the company and never had to work customer service.
---
When Aria returned a half-hour later, her make-up was freshly painted on, with no trace of the crying fiasco on her face.
“Thank you so much and I am so sorry!” she exclaimed.
She should be. It was the worst half hour of my goddamn life.
“Don’t worry about it! But if you really feel that bad, you can make it up to me by telling me what’s bothering you.”
I wasn’t sure I cared for the answer, but that seemed like the right thing to say.
She scrunched her nose like she wasn’t sure it was a good idea but eventually said: “My request for a loan got turned down. My mother recently had heart surgery and without insurance she owes the hospital 60,000 dollars. She can’t apply for a loan herself because my family is still recovering from a bankruptcy.”
Well that was easy enough. I could take care of that right away. I didn’t want to make it so easy though.
“Who was the loan officer you spoke to?”
“Wilson. I don’t know his full name.”
“I will talk to him.” I chose my words very carefully, making sure not to make any promises I couldn’t keep. Or didn’t want to keep, more like.
Her face visibly changed colors and her eyes widened. “You can do that?”
“What did I say about owning the company?”
She jumped and for a second it looked like she was going to hug me but changed her mind.
“Oh my god, thank you so so much! You can get him to approve the loan!”
“That’s not what I said.” I spoke slowly. “I said I would talk to him.”