Where Life Takes You

by Claudia Burgoa

  I loved his kitchen. We spent hours here, talking about everything, and nothing—never a dull moment with us. Life was better, easier, when we shared our time and hid inside our little bubble. For him, it was being away from work, and the press, and everyone who wanted a piece of Daniel E. Brightmore—or his money. For me… the bubble was tranquility, safety. Reality stayed far away from us.

  Dan talked business. The Belgium purchase, which helped with the European expansion of the Brightmore Empire’s food division. Before he continued the conversation, he stood up, walked towards the fridge, and pulled out a box. “For my princess.” He handed me a box full of Belgium chocolates. I stood up and jumped into his arms.

  “I adore you.” I kissed his cheek before he placed me back into the floor.

  “I know.” He answered cockily. Then, while we continued eating our dinner, Dan talked about Brightmore Limited and the merges he planned.

  The conglomerate consisted of freight companies, bakeries, IT solutions, investments, constructions, and more. Slowly, he conquered the world, and while doing so, traveled all over it—which made our time together precious to me. While away, we texted, called, and Skyped. Not an ideal relationship, but I knew brothers and sisters who only saw each other during the holidays.

  “Oh, great,” I moaned, after cracking my fortune cookie.

  I showed the empty treat to Dan. “Not even the kind Chinese people from the restaurant like me. How about happiness is around the corner? Or… you’re about to find love? They didn’t even bother giving me a fortune. I don’t like them. Next time, we order Thai.”

  “You hate Thai.” Dan’s body shook with laughter, and his cheeks turned red. He handed me his.

  Enjoy your cookie.

  “That’s it?” Frustrated, I dumped the paper into the recycling bin. “When did fortune cookies lose their wisdom? Stop laughing, Daniel!”

  He couldn’t, and he enveloped me in a hug. “I missed you.”

  I gave him a half smile and put everything away.

  Dan pulled a pint of my favorite ice cream—Ben & Jerry’s Cheesecake Brownie—out of the freezer. He hauled me toward the media room and sat me next to him. I hadn’t agreed to movie time, but a pint of cold, chocolaty bribery convinced me to stay.

  “I fed you.” He opened the container and handed me a spoon. “Now tell me what’s going on, little one.”

  I shook my head and claimed the remote off the coffee table. My brain refused to go through another therapy session, even if it included ice cream. Brooding about Lisa, the journal, Connor, and the crap our new assistant was giving me wouldn’t help me—and complaining about the new girl would get her fired. Right before Christmas.

  Evading his inquisition, I changed the subject. “Are we going to put up a Christmas tree this year?”

  We’d been so busy over the past month, we’d only had time for the poor Charlie Brown Christmas tree I’d put in my room. Dan’s place accommodated a ten-footer with no hassle, and his tree had become the center of the holiday celebrations, sporting different decorations each year.

  “Change of plans, but we’ll discuss them later.” He fed me ice cream, and took the remote out of my hands and muted the TV. “What’s going on?” He offered me a spoon full of ice cream. “Don’t deny it, there are signs all over you. Your bloodshot eyes tell me you haven’t slept well. Your flat voice over the phone, and not being able to Skype… An old tactic to avoid me because you’re trying to hide something.” I stared fixedly at the TV, hoping he’d get the hint and drop it. “And now you’re pretending to pay attention to a diaper commercial. What’s next? Singing jingles? You might as well tell me, because I won’t move on until you do.”

  “Hmm, it’s a good commercial.” I reached for the remote, ready to hit the internet application and browse Netflix or Vudu. Anything to deflect his attention. I wasn’t fast enough.

  Dan held it up in the air, and used his gray-blue eyes to give me a stern look that said, I’m not happy.

  I sighed and crossed my arms, flopping back on the sofa. “Fine, you win. I haven’t slept in two days. The stupid journal’s driving me crazy. Ironic, right? My therapist’s setting me up to fail, and I’ll end up in the loony bin. Then I encountered Ian’s brother at the bookstore, which shook me.” Resigned and frustrated, I confessed. “He has a son, and the boy’s a carbon copy of his uncle.”

  Dan closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, there was something unknown in their depths that puzzled me. Was it disappointment, perhaps?

  I’d started therapy about a year ago, and so far, nothing had changed. The memories still haunted me every night and every other Tuesday. Apparently, they would be around until I got the so-called ‘closure’. Dealing with them took me closer to living a full life—the therapist said—but a full life sounded greedy to me. Someone as screwed up as me shouldn’t expect too much. In any case, all bringing the memories back again had done was make me miserable. The image of my mother shrieking at me in front of the entire neighborhood haunted me, carving one more sliver out of my heart every day. “You’re dead to me,” she’d yelled. Who does that to her only daughter?

  “You should stay with me tonight, Bex. Please.” Dan’s words, and arms, pulled me out of my self-pity party. He settled me in his lap, and dried the few tears that began to escape me with his thumb. He hugged me tight, and gently wrapping me in a secure cocoon where all my problems, fears, and insecurities disappeared. “After you tell me everything, we’ll watch movies. You’ll fall asleep, and I’ll be around to scare off the pesky nightmares.”

  “Ian’s brother triggered the nightmare.” I stopped crying, put on my big girl panties, and narrated my misadventure. Starting with the crowd in the bookstore, and Roger’s wife, and ending when I’d parked my car in the garage and run into his arms. The hardest part was describing the nightmares, because talking about them made them linger. I avoided Chrystal, the conniving assistant—no one should be fired during the holidays. I lunged for the remote, and he gave it up easily—a reward for giving him what he wanted.

  After my narration, I felt better. Dan saved me all the time, even from myself. I was grateful he didn’t have a clingy supermodel attached at the hip. He never brought any of them home. His properties were off limits. He went to hotels, or their houses, and never stayed the night. No long-term relationships. No strings attached. “What happened to Mimi?”

  “Who?” Dan frowned, and puzzlement took over his face.

  “The Australian supermodel you were photographed with over the weekend.” I settled for a Friends re-run. “You guys partied all night at some famous night club, I think.”

  “Over the weekend? Are we talking about the redhead, or the skinny blonde? And I was at a night club, huh?” He turned my head slightly, so we could face each other. “I have no idea who, or what, you’re talking about. I thought Friday and Saturday we’d Skyped on and off. But, hey, I might be wrong.” His temper flared. “Funny how the media seems to know more about my social life than I do.”

  “You don’t need to be sarcastic.” His rudeness infuriated me. “I’m just asking. Though, for the record, all the girls you date are skinny and blond.” Bunch of opportunistic sluts. My blood boiled, and the filters came down. “So you have no clue, hmm? Can’t keep track of the women you’ve screwed, for one week?” The ice in my voice chilled the room.

  The man had slept his way through every famous skank available. I didn’t blame him, but it didn’t make it right. The guy had the complete drop dead hottie package—handsome, sweet, an athletic build, fantastic humor when he wanted, and he had the money, assets, and resources to do whatever he pleased. He could have any woman he wanted, and more than he cared to have. They threw themselves at his feet.

  Dan’s glare narrowed, spitting anger. He tensed, and dropped his arms. I clung to his neck to avoid a fall.

  “Jesus, Rebecca.” God, the full name. I’d obviously upset him more than I’d realized. “I thought yo
u knew me better. Do you honestly believe everything you read and watch?” His facial expression changed from anger to hurt. “I’m sorry, princess, but I’m not in the mood for this.” He made a weird movement with his hand. “For God’s sake, Bex, you know every inch of my schedule. For now, the only person I entertain is you. And if my status changes, then you’ll be the first to know.”

  He had me there. I always knew his whereabouts. I sighed, feeling stupid. Yesterday, Chrystal had pulled up a picture of him on one of those gossipy sites, and I’d gone crazy. My stomach had clenched because my best friend had left me out of the loop. He’d kept a secret, and we didn’t do that. We were all we had, and tried to have an honest relationship, nothing hidden—except my two big secrets, and a few white lies.

  After a few more minutes of cuddling, I agreed to stay, and went across the hall to gather my stuff. The journal sat on top of my nightstand, demanding a new entry. Inspiration struck, and the words flowed better than the day before.

  * * * * *

  Dear Lisa,

  Tonight I realized something. You never stole Mom. How could I lose someone I never had? The woman was clingy, needy, and avoided me like the plague. If she wasn’t swooning from some guy, she was waiting for the next one. They left when the real Donna came to life, just like Dad. He’d stayed long enough to impregnate her, but ran at the first opportunity. I was the result of yet another failed relationship. A reminder of another failed relationship. Until Greg Sanders—your father—appeared and promised a different and brighter future.

  I took care of Mom when Grams died—a seven year old responsible for an adult. Grams was an angel. She taught me to cook, sew, clean, and use all the household electronics. But, mostly, she gave me the tools to take care of her daughter. I wonder how things would’ve turned out if she hadn’t died. Your father and you could’ve taken Mom and left me there with Grams. But reminiscing and brooding about my past won’t help me move on.

  I give you Mom, and everything else you took away all those years ago. Hope you can use them wherever you are. In exchange, I’ll keep my sobriety, my job, my friends, and the new life I’m making for myself.

  Stay in Hell,

  RT

  Chapter 3

  “Bex.” Dan’s loud, husky voice reached all the way to the front door and caught me a few seconds before I left his place. “You fell asleep and we never got to discuss our Christmas plans. We leave tonight after work. Mary can get your stuff together; doubt you’ve got time to do it. Nathan will drive you to the airport from the office. He’ll be here soon to take you to the office, so get ready.”

  The reason the most punctual man in the world was running late today, had finally come out. He had three different alarms in his bedrooms and never forgot to set them on time. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. His modus operandi never failed. He was taking me away. Again. Without telling me anything about it. As usual. Mary had precise instructions to pack my bags. My opinion didn’t count.

  The nerve!

  “Oh, please. I bet you bought an entire wardrobe for the trip, and Mary packed it yesterday. I do own clothes, you know?” He won a growl and an eye rolling for his efforts.

  “I know.” I caught a glimpse of his smirk; in times like this he remind me of a mischievous child.

  “And you probably have an itinerary detailed enough to keep us busy for a year, cramped into one week. Including activities I wouldn’t dare to try in my right mind. Which, of course, I’ll end up doing, because you’ll persuade me.” Taking a deep breath, I finished my rant. “One day, Daniel, I’ll learn to say no. Mainly to you. See you later, Brightmore.”

  I slammed the door, like a bratty teenager whose parents had told her to pick up her bedroom. At the same moment, Nate came out of the elevator and nodded at me.

  “Should be done in a few, Nate.” My half-smile granted me a slight head shake.

  “I’ll be at Mr. Brightmore’s when you’re ready, Miss.”

  In record time I bathed—not washing my hair—and threw on a pair of black slacks, a white blouse, and a nice pink cashmere sweater on top. I applied mascara and a light pink shade of lipstick. My coat and purse had stayed at Dan’s. I double checked my apartment before leaving. Mary would walk through the place before closing it, along with Dan’s, but my OCD kicked in. I locked the door, and Nate pressed the elevator button when he saw me. He held my purse and wool coat.

  “Mr. Brightmore left when I arrived.” Dan had something else up his sleeve.

  Dan: Don’t be mad, I’ll see you soon. We’ll have a fun holiday.

  Read the text he dared to send me.

  Me: Mad, me? YOU’RE TREATING ME LIKE A CHILD. Though I have a hunch this is bigger than usual and I’ll be upset.

  Dan: Try not to, princess, please? :)

  Nate drove like a pro, fast and safe, and we arrived at the office before the eight o’clock meeting. When I entered the meeting room, Chrystal had taken over my role. The copies I had prepared of the presentation were handed out to each employee. She’d set up my laptop, and held the projector’s remote and my company iPad. The scene startled me. The controlling vixen got me once again; she was trying very hard to take my job. In the corner of the meeting room, Dan observed and dissected everyone’s movements. He glanced my way, and I twisted my mouth and narrowed my gaze.

  Tricky, tricky man. Crossing my arms and shaking my head, I sent him a futile glare. I’m not liking you at the moment.

  He winked at me with a knowing smile.

  “I didn’t think you’d make it today.” Chrystal’s shrieking voice got everyone’s attention. She handed me a copy and pulled out a chair for me. “The coffee’s ready, as you requested, and the material we’ll cover has been handed out.”

  We? There’s no such thing as we. You go and tend the phones, now!

  “Thank you, I’ll take over from here.” Wise words, meant to keep my filters steady. A pair of stormy gray eyes latched onto me; the intense glare burning a hole through my face. The man definitely had something up his sleeve. Chrystal moved a chair next to him and sat whispering something in his ear. He smiled politely, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  I started the presentation. Brightmore foundation used our dollars toward the cause, not the operational cost. We utilized resources from Brightmore Limited, and they billed them as donations—a win-win situation. Chrystal interrupted me several times to share her brilliant ideas. They included an in house lawyer, a full time accountant, a marketing department, and a PR representative. None of which would fly with us. I handled the PR, while Bright, Sanders, and Associates managed the marketing side. We weren’t hiring Thomas to handle our legal issues, or giving her a raise to do accounting.

  “Outsourcing is a waste of time,” she interrupted me for the tenth time. Dan pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes. I pressed my lips tight and closed my eyes for a second, begging for this to be over soon. “We can’t keep functioning with a sk—”

  “Miss Smith, right?” Dan interrupted her rant, and she swooned at the sound of her name. Idiot. He’s not flirting, he’s about to bite your head off. “I’m a busy man. Let’s keep this meeting on track. If you have any further input, then I encourage you to make an appointment with Miss Trent. You can share your ideas during the allotted time. Also, I recommend you study our strategic plan. Perhaps you’ll learn a thing or two before said meeting.”

  “Of course.” Did she just giggle? “You can call me Chrystal,” she fluttered her eyelashes, and, with a provocative tone, slowly his name, “Dan.” My blood boiled due to her demonstrations.

  The presentation continued without another interruption or glitch. We set our goals for the coming year, and Dan passed out a bunch of American Express gift cards. As a non-profit, the Brightmore Foundation employees didn’t get any crazy bonuses, but were paid fairly. Hence, Brightmore Limited donated those gift cards for holidays and special occasions.

  Not waiting for any other surprises, I slipped out of t
he room and headed to my office. My mood couldn’t handle Dan after Chrystal’s behavior. Just as I turned to close the door, Dan stepped inside. I swore he had ghostly powers.

  “Rebecca, you have the power to fire her.” He shut the door behind him, steam coming out of his ears. “I’m not doing it for you. She’s a nasty piece of work, and she’s walked all over you long enough. You need to put a stop to it!”

  Everyone was blindly loyal to Dan, and he had spies everywhere.

  Those freaking gift cards at work, I bet.

  “She’s young, and—”

  “Really, are you giving me that shit?” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Rebecca, she’s twenty-eight—a few years older than you. Don’t BS me, not now. I have a lot to do before leaving on vacation, and yet, I’m here, witnessing your lack of backbone. Time’s money, and your soft heart—which I love, don’t get me wrong—is costing me a lot. You have a month to get rid of her—”

  “Or what, you’ll fire me?” I yelled, which I regretted immediately. We didn’t solve our problems by yelling at each other. The situation was getting out of hand.

  “Of course not.” He waved his hands in the air and gave me his business stare. The poker face I hated. He used it on people he didn’t care about, like associates, or business rivals. “She wants your job, which I won’t give her. This is your company. I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else. You know what all this means to me—to us. That said, cut any loose ends. Do it for me.”

  After a couple of minutes staring at each other, he hugged me. Dan’s way to apologize—to me—but he’d made his point. I hated fighting with him. A slight knock on my door interrupted the apologies. I opened the door to find Chrystal behind it.

  “I’m out of here.” His eyes smiled, but his lips drew a thin, unfriendly line.