by Kayt Miller
When she looks up, I decide that isn’t the case at all. She, well, I don’t know how to explain the expression. It’s full of sadness and hate. Yeah, hate. “Why?” she asks.
“Why did I guy you a gift?”
“Why did you do this to me? One minute you need me, the next you don't. One minute you think I’m sexy, the next you don’t. One minute you say you love me then you do this to me,” she says holding up the box. “I can’t take it, David. I deserve better than this from you. I’ve stood by you through the good and bad. I’ve endured the rude things your wife has said to me and things you’ve said to me. I deserve better than this,” she holds up the box again.
“If you think this is funny, you’re dead wrong. I’ve lived my entire life hearing people comment about my body and my weight. Well, it’s none of your fucking business any longer, David. I need for you to leave. Now! I want you out of my house, out of my life, and I want you to stay gone, David. Do you hear me?”
She stands and walks quickly down the steps to her front door. Kicking me out again? I follow her down because I’ve learned it’s the best thing to do. She’ll calm down. She hands me the box and opens the door. “Goodbye, David. And I mean it. Goodbye.”
I step out the door and hear it click behind me. I look at the box in my hand and want to throw it down the street, but I need to see what’s inside. I pull open the lid and see a cheap plastic necklace like the ones you get out of a gumball machine. It’s got a silver chain, but that’s not the part that takes my breath away. It’s the pendant. The pendant is a pig. A pig covered in cheap pink stones and one ruby for the eye. “Oh, God. I’m going to fucking annihilate Gretchen.”
I feel burning behind my eyes then moisture. A tear runs down my cheek, and it’s not the only one. “I’ve ruined everything. I fucking love her so much it hurts.” My tears turn into sobs. People are walking by staring, but I don’t care. “I’ll never get her back now.” It’s over.
Chapter 25: Cassandra
As soon as he left, I sat down on my step. Twenty minutes. He’s been gone twenty minutes, and I’m still sitting in the same spot because I’m stunned. I’m speechless. I’m shocked. I’m hurt. I’m angry, and I’m sad. Did he seriously think that necklace was the perfect gift for me? Is he completely and utterly clueless? Unfeeling? Insensitive? I guess the answer to all of those questions is ‘yes.’
But the man I know, the man I grew to love over the past ten years would never have given me such a thoughtless gift. He’d never pick that out for me. Granted, he’s only ever given me utilitarian gifts like pens and travel mugs. This was his first attempt to give me something fit for a romantic relationship. Shit, I’ve gone out and purchased things for his wife before. He’s handed me his credit card and said stuff like, ‘Can you pick something pretty up for Jen? She’s had a bad week. Maybe jewelry.’
Now, that makes more sense. Did he tell Jennifer he chose it himself so he’d get credit? Probably. Is that what he did this time? Did he let Gretchen choose my gift? I’ll never know because I can’t look at him. I can’t let him in to break my heart again.
I stand and make my way back upstairs. For some reason, I’m hungry. I order a pizza from a nearby pizza place. When it’s delivered, I sit on my comfy couch in my favorite room in the house, the sitting room, and turn on my recordings of the show Playing House. I need a laugh and the ladies who write and star in the show never let me down.
I consume almost the entire pizza, but that’s okay. I’ve got no one to impress tonight or tomorrow. After the show is over, I put my leftovers in the fridge and head up to bed. Not that I’ll sleep. I won’t, but I’ll try. I can read for a while and see how it goes.
* * *
Shockingly, I wake up rested and rejuvenated in the morning. I guess that shot of whiskey I drank at three in the morning was the key. I add whiskey to my grocery list because I think I’m going to need it. I drink a cup of freshly brewed coffee and walk to my front door to get the papers.
I pull it open a crack and nearly scream. A man is sitting on my front steps. “Declan! What are you doing here? How long have you been out here?”
“Not long, half an hour or so.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. David mentioned you had a toilet that keeps running.”
“He did?” I do have a toilet that keeps running.
“Um, yes. He did. I brought some tools,” he says stiffly as he holds up a beaten up old toolbox. Declan Flynn has his own construction company. A running toilet is child’s play for a guy like him.
“Oh, okay. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Coffee. Black, if you’ve got it. Also, point the way to the bathroom in question, please.” I lead him to the hall bathroom to the toilet that never stops making the sound of running water.
I make my way to the kitchen and pull a cup down from the shelf. I’m almost out of coffee, so I jot that down on my grocery list and walk back to the bathroom. When I get there, he announces, “All done.”
“All done? Seriously?”
Yep, your chain was just caught up on your tank lever. I untangled it. Now, you’re good as new.”
“Seriously? That’s it? It’s been running like that for weeks.”
“Probably lost a lot of water too. Next time something’s going on, give me a call. Okay?”
“Okay. Um, how much do I owe you?”
Declan chuckles. “Not a penny sweetheart.” He turns to walk down my hallway and turns back to me, “On second thought, I’d like one thing.”
“Okay,” I say cautiously.
“Hear him out. He fucked the pooch on this one, but he didn’t mean to. He let that awful girl, Gretel, pick out the gift. He learned a valuable lesson yesterday. Just hear him out. My son is many things, but ungentlemanly is not one of them. I raised him better than that. Will you do that?”
“I’ll think about it. No promises. But I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough for me for now.” He takes the cup from my hand and drinks the entire thing in one go.”
“That was hot, Declan?”
He winks and leans down to kiss the top of my head as he hands me back the mug.
He’s a man of very few words. That’s hot. I giggle to myself as I think about how sometimes the best kind of man is a silent man.
Chapter 26: David
Yep, that’s what I am. Drunk. Just drunk. After leaving Cassie’s, I called my dad. Declan Flynn is always the calm voice of reason. I told him everything starting with Cassie quitting IIM and the reason why. I told him about our new relationship, leaving out the shit he doesn’t need to know up until a few minutes ago when I handed my voluptuous woman a necklace with a pig on it.
Dad listened. He was sympathetic to me once I finished, but he didn’t try to sugarcoat things. “You screwed the pooch, David. Why would you let that assistant of yours buy a gift for your girl? That’s a lazy-ass move and the Flynn’s aren’t lazy, son.”
“I know dad. I was just trying to get some peace and quiet at work and get something for Cassie––kill two birds, you know?”
“You screwed the pooch.”
“I know,” I say defeated. “I’m gonna get drunk.”
“That’s a terrific idea,” dad says sarcastically.
“It is. It’s a fucking great idea,” So, I stopped by the liquor store and bought a 750 ml bottle of Jameson Gold Reserve Irish Whiskey on my way home from Cassandra’s.
In the morning light of the next day, I can now see that it wasn’t one of my best and brightest ideas since I know the bottle is bone dry. I feel like someone has beaten me with a sledgehammer. Actually, I think I’d prefer being pummeled with a sledgehammer. It’d hurt less.
I slowly stand from my couch and take one step when the uncontrollable need to vomit hits me. I weave over to the large potted tree I’ve got in the corner, fall to my knees, and release the Kraken. “Oh, God. I want to die. Kill me, please.”
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br /> When no one grants me my wish, I crawl on my hands and knees over to the bar stool near my kitchen. I use the rungs and the seat to pull me back up. Once I’m standing, I’m so winded I’m panting. My head hurts, “Damn.” I look at the clock and see I’ve got about seven minutes until I need to be out the door for work. Not going to happen.
I feel around my lower half for my phone when I realize that I’m only wearing my boxers. I’ve got on my shirt, tie, and jacket but no pants. Classy. “Oh damn. Classy Cassie,” I murmur. “My dad is right. I fucked the pooch.” I can’t decide if I want to cry like a pussy again or throw up. Why not do both?
I make it to the bathroom in the nick of time to relieve myself. I’m clutching the cool white porcelain and like how it feels on my face. I’m hot and I stink like a frat house after homecoming. How am I going to get to work? I can’t find my phone. I have no idea where I left my pants. Oh wait! I remember now. I crawl back out into the living room and head to my tiny balcony. “Ah ha!” I shout and regret it almost instantly. “My head,” I moan.
I grab my pants and search the pockets. Thankfully, the phone is in the back pocket. I see I’ve missed a call from mom and dad, a text from Hank, and one from Mick. “They probably want to kick my ass too. I sure do.” Okay, that made no sense. I search for the contact information for that fucking bitch-face Gretchen and hit send.
“IIM, this is Gretchen speaking.”
“Gretchen? I’m sick. I’ll… um, I’m gonna be late.”
“You’ve got a meeting with Lest… I mean Mr. Ingot in fifteen minutes.”
“Reschedule it. I’m going to be sick.”
“He’s going to be angry with you.”
“Don't give a fuck.” I hang up the phone and puke over the side of my balcony. “Please God, don’t let there be people below. Please?”
I fall back onto one of my two lounge chairs hoping the sun will soak up the whiskey. When my phone rings, I look at the screen. “What?”
“Mr. Ingot is very displeased.”
“Gretchen. The only person you need to worry about being displeased is me! And I’m very, very displeased with you.”
“Why? What’d I do?”
“You bought my girlfriend a cheap necklace with a pig on it.”
I hear her giggle, “Sorry about that. I couldn’t resist.”
“If I could fire you, I would. But, let me just say this, your days of working for me are over.”
“But… what? You can’t…” I hear her mutter, but I don’t let her finish.
I hang up the phone and plop back down on the lounge chair. When my cell rings again, I almost toss it over the railing, but when I see it’s Lester, so I pick up. “Hello?”
“Young man? You need to get your ass to work. We need to talk. Your attitude…”
“Lester. I’m sick. If you want me throwing up all over your desk, then, by all means, summon me.”
“Fine. But, I want to see you first thing in the morning.”
“Fine.” I hang up on the old man and seriously consider launching my cell out into oblivion, but I don't. What if Cassie calls?
Chapter 27: Cassandra
Declan Flynn is a very clever man. He showed up in the guise of fixing my toilet and in less than a paragraph, he said everything that needed to be said. He asked me to give David another shot. I will do as I promised; I’ll think about it.
Picking up my papers from the stoop, I head back into my sitting room grabbing a fresh cup of coffee on my way through. I start with the Chicago Tribune reading the arts and leisure section. I always start there. I mark down shows and exhibitions that I hope to see then I go through the financial pages. I don’t get far today when I read the headline:Wall Street Stunned as New IPO Presents False Product Claims.
“Holy shit.” I pull out the section and begin reading. “I knew it!” Beranger Aeronautics scammed millions, maybe billions off investors who thought they were on the ground floor of something huge. “I wonder if David saw this?”
I pick up my phone without thinking.
Me: Did you read the paper? Headline: Wall Street Stunned as New IPO Presented False Product Claims. Guess who that’s about? I’m attaching the link.
I hit send before I even consider what I’ve done. A day has gone by, and I no longer hold any anger toward him. I’m sad for him, really.
David: Holy shit! You were right! Not surprised. You know your stuff.
Me: Now, aren’t you glad you didn’t pour money into that deal?
David: Fuck yeah. I’d be broke. LOL.
I can’t think of anything else to say, so I set my phone down until it chimes.
David: I’m very sorry. I let Gretchen pick that gift and have it gift-wrapped. I had no idea what she purchased. I’d never hurt you like that.
Me: I know.
David: Is there hope for me? For us?
Me: Not sure. Still bruised a bit from yesterday. Give me some time.
David: I will. I will give you what you need.
That’s our only conversation that day, but immediately afterward, I feel exhausted. Maybe having the weight of my anger off my shoulders made me sleepy. With that thought, I head back to bed to catch up on the beauty sleep I missed out on last night. As I lay my head down, the sentence that keeps running through on repeat is ‘I will give you what you need.’ The thing is, no matter how things went down yesterday, I know it’s true; David Flynn will give me exactly what I need.
Chapter 28: David
My day at home nursing this hangover was improved dramatically by that text from Cassie just now. She texted me! See? I knew I shouldn’t throw my phone over the balcony! The crazy news about Beranger Aeronautics has me reeling. I never had any intention of investing in that company after seeing Cassie’s doodles. True, I still had the article on my desk because, well, it’s my desk. I’ve got shit on there from 2010.
The big question remains though. Why was Lester so interested in that article? And why did he have that little chat with me about Beranger the other day? Did he invest based on the notes from my desk? I sure as shit hope not. That’d be catastrophic.
With my hangover improved by at least fifty percent, I lumber into my bathroom for a much-needed shower. That will help me heal even faster. I scrub the stench of Irish whiskey off of my body with vigor. “I’m never drinking again,” I murmur as I feel my headache wane just a bit. “Swear to God. Never again.” I know. Empty promises.
The shower was a good idea, but a fresh bout of nausea is upon me. I lie on my bed and sigh, “Cassandra.” I roll over to my side and mumble to myself, “How did you get under my skin after all these years? Why hadn’t it happened sooner?” Ten years together and I couldn’t see the nose on my face. In this case, that nose was Cass. I roll onto my back, close my eyes, and fall asleep in a matter of minutes.
* * *
I wake up a little disoriented. I look at the clock and see the glowing numbers, “Six o’clock?” Is that morning or night? I passed out on my bed mid-afternoon. I sit up and see the morning sun shining in my window. Jesus, I slept over eighteen hours. My headache is gone, and I feel like I’m going to live. Yay. It’s too bad I’ve got to go to work again.
I slide out of bed and head to my kitchen to make coffee. It actually sounds good this morning. Once that’s percolating, I make my way to the bathroom. The man looking back at me in the mirror looks a little like a lumberjack. “I need a haircut.” Searching through the drawers, I find my razor and shaving cream.
Shaving first, I step in and shower quickly. I dress in my best suit because it feels like a brand new day. I make my way into the kitchen and pour coffee into Cassie’s Chicago Bears travel mug. Heading out my door, I grab my briefcase and try to force positivity by sing-songing, “It’s going to be an awesome day!”
By the time I get to my office that lofty idea of an awesome day has been run over by a Mack Truck. Hell has fucking broken loose. I was only gone one day. My phone is blinking with messages that shou
ld have been taken care of by my worthless assistant. I’ve got over fifty emails, all with a tiny red flag next to them telling me they’re urgent. When I attempt to give my colleagues a cheerful, “Good morning!” none of them will look at me. “I had a fucking hangover people, get over it,” I mutter.
“There’s more to it than that,” says a voice at my door.
“Oh, hey Janice. What’s up?”
She turns her head to the side giving me a peculiar look, “I came to get you. H.R. wants to see you. Now.”
Since I hadn’t even had a chance to sit down, I walk toward her. “What’s going on? What’s this about?”
“Can’t say, confidential.”
I groan but follow Janice. “Can I have a little hint?”
She looks back at me, “One word. Gretchen. Got your notes?”
“Fuck.” I nod and pat my breast pocket for my notebook and my inside pocket for my phone. I’ve got my notes and so much more.
We take the elevator down to the first floor. Janice leads me along the corridors until I’m standing in front of the H.R. director’s office. I knock. “Come in.”
I step in and see Jodi Flagg sitting behind her desk. She’s got stacks of folders and papers all over the place. Her desk could rival mine for the most disastrous organization. “Jodi. Hey.” Jodi and I go way back. She was my contact when I was first hired here. She did all of my paperwork for insurance and other benefits. She’s also a friend of my sister Sandy. They’ve been tight for years. I’ve got no need to worry. She won’t screw me over.
“David? Someone has lodged a complaint against you.”