by C. C. Snow
His eyes scanned my face and he strode to the door. “Jesus. You’re as white as a ghost.” He sandwiched my cold hands between his and rubbed. Tugging me gently into the room, he closed the door. “What’s wrong, Cora?”
“It’s Marcus…he got into a fight or something. I don’t know exactly and the principal won’t tell me details. She wants me to go to the school. I’m not sure if he’s okay. Oh God! She said he was, but…” My brain couldn’t seem to focus. I looked at him helplessly.
“Shh…why don’t you sit down for a minute?”
He started to lead me toward the sofa, but I dug in my heels and shook my head violently. “No, I have to go… I need to get a cab. I’m sorry about missing work. I’ll come in early tomorrow.”
His face twisted in anger and he barked, “Forget about work.” He took a deep breath to rein in his temper. “Give me a second. I’ll drive you.”
My eyes rounded in horror. “No! It’s fine. I can catch a cab.” I didn’t know why Jake would offer to take time out of his busy day to help me with my personal problems. I started to back away.
He brought me to a halt by gripping my upper arms and bringing his face close. His tone did not brook any dissent. “I will take you. Just stand here for a sec.”
Without waiting to see if I obeyed, he strode over to his desk and picked up the phone.
I shuffled toward the door, but one look from him stopped me in my tracks.
“Troy, Cora has a family emergency. I’m going to be out of the office for the rest of the day.” A pause. “That’s not funny, you ass. I’ll have Alana forward you the agenda for the meeting in an hour.”
I couldn’t hear what Troy said, but Jake nodded a few times. Then Troy must have pissed him off because his cheeks darkened and he spit out, “Fuck off,” before hanging up.
“Let’s go!” He put his hand at the small of my back and started to guide me out of the office.
“Jake, please. There’s no need.” I tried to dig in my heels, but he was relentless. “Really, I can grab a cab right outside!”
My protests fell on deaf ears as he hustled me toward the elevator.
“Alana, email Troy the agenda for the meeting today and hold all my calls. I’ll be out for the day.” Jake didn’t even slow down his stride as he rapidly laid out his instructions.
The look on Alana’s face was priceless. Eyes glued on Jake’s hand at my back, she looked both shocked and disgusted, like she sucked on a particularly sour lemon.
At any other time, I might have been unkind enough to enjoy her dismay, but I was filled with anxiety. Not only did I have to worry about what happened with my brother, but now my boss was acting erratic and out of character.
When he said he would drive me, I thought he meant his driver would take us, but Jake took us down to the parking garage. He opened the door to a slate gray Bentley Continental and I climbed in, my mind dazed. I fumbled with the seatbelt and Jake took over for me, buckling me in. His fingers grazed my cheek, bringing my gaze to him.
“It’s going to be okay, Cora.”
He spoke so confidently that it eased some of my dread.
I nodded gratefully.
Once we pulled out of the garage, Jake made me recount my conversation with the principal.
He reached over and squeezed my knee in encouragement when I stumbled over my words. The touch of his big hand sent a bolt of heat racing up my thigh to my core and I flushed. Luckily, he was looking at the traffic and I sighed in relief when he put his hand back on the steering wheel.
I looked at his strong profile in bafflement. Why was he so hell bent on helping me?
Over the last few weeks, we had gotten along well, but I wouldn’t call Jake a friend. Before I had time to mull over the situation, he was pulling into the small parking lot of the school. It was a madhouse because school had just ended and students streamed out of the building. The luxury call drew many covetous glances from the male students.
“You don’t need to park! I’ll just hop out,” I hurried to say and unlatched my seatbelt.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going in with you.” He pulled into an empty parking slot.
I blinked at him owlishly. “What?”
He engaged the parking brake and turned to face me. His fingers tucked a strand of my brown hair behind my ear. His blue eyes were filled with concern. “I know you value your privacy and I respect that, but in case you need anything, I want to be there. And I’ll be on hand to take you both home.”
As I sat there stupefied by his statement, he rounded the car to open the door for me. My mind awhirl, I put my hand in his and he helped me out of the vehicle. His palm felt hot and comforting, but I released his hand immediately. This whole thing felt too intimate already.
I had been to the school for their open house, but I felt lost as soon as I entered the building. A few students were still hanging out in the hallways, but for the most part, it was empty.
“Excuse me. Could you direct us to the principal’s office?” Jake asked a teen with pierced lips and Goth makeup.
“Sure. Down the hall and make a left.” The girl didn’t even look up from her phone.
With a muttered thanks, I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run. Jake’s long legs had no problem keeping up with me.
The door to the office was open and when I walked into the reception area, I saw my brother immediately. He sat with his shoulders slumped, holding an ice pack against his left cheek.
“Marcus,” I gasped and lunged at him, yanking him into my arms. His arms hung at his sides, not returning my hug. I stifled my hurt and pushed away to look at his face.
The area around his eye socket was red and swollen and I’d bet by tomorrow it would be a nice mélange of blue and purple. There was a small bandage right on the apple of his cheek. He refused to meet my gaze and his lips were set in a stubborn line.
“Jesus!” I raised my hand to touch the shiner but he flinched away before I could make contact. “Are you okay? What happened?”
He shrugged, remaining silent and I wanted to shake him.
“Ms. Branton?” A slender African-American woman walked out of the inner office. “I’m Laura Woodsen, the principal. We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Ms. Woodsen.” I winced at my inane comment and shook her hand.
She looked at me with a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t we go into my office?” Her eyes cut to Jake. “Oh, is this your husband?”
I almost choked on my own spit. “NO! No…” I looked at Jake who raised an amused brow. It didn’t feel right to call him something as impersonal as “boss” after he had been so considerate. “Um…this is Jake Weston. He’s a friend.”
His expression didn’t visibly change, but I sensed my statement pleased him. He shook hands with Ms. Woodsen.
Marcus’s eyes lit with interest as he looked Jake over.
The principal nodded in greeting. “Marcus, please come into my office as well.”
My brother slinked into the office, his head bowed.
Jake touched my elbow. “Go ahead. I’ll wait out here.” He folded his long frame into a chair that was clearly meant for someone much smaller. He should have looked ridiculous, but even cheap, tiny chairs could not diminish his innate elegance.
I walked into Ms. Woodsen’s office and took the seat next to Marcus. There was the familiar smell of dust and paper I remembered from my days in my school counselor’s office. The scent was apparently universal to all school administrators.
The principal sat in her chair, her bearing regal. Her dark brown eyes were somber as she folded her hands on her desk. “Marcus, would you like to tell your sister what happened?”
He shook his head, still refusing to look up.
Ms. Woodsen sighed and turned her attention to me. “After sixth period, one of the teachers found Marcus and another eighth grader, Evan Jones, wrestling on the ground. They were punching and kicking at each other.”
I gasped and looked at Marcus, but he was still hiding his face.
“The teacher broke up the fight. Evan claimed that Marcus threw the first punch, but Marcus has not said anything about the incident.” She leaned forward. “I have to tell you, Ms. Branton, that unless we know what happened, I’ll have to suspend Marcus.”
“What? No! Marcus is not a violent person. He’d never hit anyone. There must be some sort of misunderstanding.”
“Ms. Branton, Marcus knocked one of Evan’s teeth loose!”
Aghast, I turned to Marcus and he peeked at me out of the corner of his eye. There was defiance, but also fear in his face.
“Marcus, can you tell Ms. Woodsen and me what happened?” I coaxed. “I know you must have had a reason to fight with that boy. Did he say something to provoke you?”
He stubbornly shook his head.
“Marcus, please! I won’t be angry, I promise.” I was outright begging, but my brother only tightened his lips.
“Then I’m afraid I have no choice, but to suspend Marcus for three days. It’s a shame because he’s one of the brightest students at the school.” Ms. Woodsen’s tone was regretful, but firm.
“Marcus, tell us what happened!” My voice switched to demanding, but to no avail. My brother sat in silence.
Reading the situation, the principal stood up with a sigh.
“I’m sorry for the trouble, Ms. Woodsen.” I got to my feet and shook her hand, my emotions all over the place. I felt like such an utter failure as a sister and a guardian.
I tried to put my hand on my brother’s shoulder, but he hurried ahead of me. Wanting nothing more than to curl up into a pathetic ball, I drew my shoulders back.
Jake stood as soon as Marcus barged out and his eyes went immediately to my face. The look of sympathy almost unraveled my control.
He must have sensed how close I was to losing it because he didn’t ask any questions.
Putting his hand on my shoulder in silent support, Jake turned to my brother. “Hello, Marcus. I’m Jake Weston.” He put out his hand and Marcus shook it, a note of awe on his face.
“Are you the guy who owns Robotrex?”
Jake glanced at me in surprise. “Technically, Weston Enterprises owns the firm. Are you interested in artificial intelligence?”
For the first time, Marcus looked animated. “Yeah! It’s awesome.”
Forestalling a long conversation about computers and robots, I said wearily, “I think we need to get home.”
Shepherding Marcus ahead of us, we headed out to the car. Marcus gawked as he climbed into the sleek Bentley and exclaimed, “Cool car!”
“Thanks.” Jake shot me an amused look and asked, “Where’s home?”
I gave him the directions and he pulled out of the lot.
“Allentron makes a better helper robot than your company, you know,” Marcus’s said in a superior tone.
“Marcus!” I twisted my head to look at him warningly, appalled at his lack of manners. “That’s rude.”
Jake smiled to let me know it was okay. “Tell me why you think so?”
“Cora took me to the robotics expo a few months ago.”
I grimaced at the memory of the geek fest, but Marcus had begged to go.
“While your robot looked better, the Allentron one had more functionality. I talked to the guy at the booth and they created their own programming language. Your company only uses C++ and Python.” He sounded comically contemptuous.
Even though it all sounded like Greek to me, Jake looked impressed. “I’ll have to talk to our engineers about this. How do you know so much about this stuff?”
“Oh, I’ve built my own robots. Well… I used to build them.”
I bit my lip guiltily. Before my mom got sick, we had the money and space for Marcus to indulge in his hobby, but our circumstances had completely changed.
“I’d love to see what you’ve made.”
Marcus stuck his head between our seats. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Cora, can Jake come up and see my robots?” Marcus looked at me pleadingly.
I hated to disappoint Marcus, especially after our crappy day, but my first instinct was to say no. I looked at Jake, my eyes huge. This man being in our apartment set off alarm bells. Whatever distance I was trying to maintain would be undone.
“Um…Jake’s a very busy person, Marcus. He probably needs to be somewhere.” I prayed Jake would latch on to the excuse I offered him.
“Do you?” Marcus turned to Jake and I heard the hopeful note in his voice. My heart ached. A male role model in his life was something I could not provide for him.
Please say you’re busy. Please!
“If your sister is okay with it, I’d love to see it.” His eyes danced with amusement as if he knew what I was thinking.
As if my agreement were a foregone conclusion, Marcus pumped his fist and exclaimed, “Yes!”
My eyes sent Jake a silent apology and I mouthed, “You don’t have to.”
In response, he mouthed, “I want to.”
Miraculously, a spot opened on our block and Jake pulled into the space.
“Um…it’s not the safest neighborhood,” I warned him as we got out of the car.
He shrugged. “It’s fine. My car has an alarm and nobody could steal this thing.” He held up the key. “The engine will kill itself if someone doesn’t have the computerized key.”
He walked next to me and without knowing how it happened, his hand was at my back again. Only unlike at the office, this time it felt like an affectionate gesture and not a means to move me along. My body tensed, but Jake did not drop his hand.
Marcus ran ahead of us, eager to show Jake his toys.
“Thank you for agreeing to see his robots. I’m afraid I’m not a very good audience. I love the theory of AI, but I’m not interested in the practical applications. I start spacing out as soon as he talks about the technical aspects.”
“It’s okay. Men are little boys at heart and what boy doesn’t enjoy robots?”
“He got his love of math and science from my dad.”
Jake looked at me inquiringly. “What did your dad do?”
“He taught Physics at the University of Chicago.”
“Was your dad Sebastian Branton?”
I stopped in my tracks and stared at him in amazement. “How did you know?”
“His theory on subatomic particles was brilliant! I wasn’t a science buff, but I took a physics class my last year in my undergraduate studies and his writing was so clear and concise.” His eyes darkened with sympathy. “I’m sorry about your dad. His death was a loss to the whole world.”
His sincerity was unmistakable. “Thanks. Marcus was only five when our dad died, but he adored him. I could see so much of our dad in him though. That’s why the fight today doesn’t make any sense. Marcus is a thinker, not a fighter.” I started walking again.
“He might just be undergoing changes he doesn’t know how to deal with. God knows Troy and I were holy terrors as teens.”
“I hope it’s just a phase.” But my gut told me something triggered this and I didn’t know how to get the truth out of Marcus.
“What did your mom do?” Jake asked.
“She was an art teacher. She loved everything to do with the arts. Marcus and I used to hang out in her ceramics studio when we were kids. One time we were playing tag and broke a sculpture she had been working on for months. My brother and I were terrified because that was how my mom earned extra money, but she just laughed it off and said she never liked it to begin with. She said the piece didn’t ‘speak to her.’” I smiled at the memory. I didn’t mean to share so much about my mom, but the words came tumbling out.
“She sounded wonderful.”
“She was, but to her disappointment, neither Marcus nor I inherited her artistic abilities. I’m lucky if I can draw a straight line,” I admitted ruefully.
“She would be proud of both of you.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him and stopped in front of a three-story brick building.
Jake’s eyes were assessing and faint lines of tension formed around his mouth.
I supposed from a billionaire’s perspective, this must look like a slum, but the building was safe. I had looked at a lot of other apartments before finding this place. There were twelve units and many of the neighbors had young families. They seemed to look out for each other. It was the best I could do on my small paycheck and I refused to let Jake’s snobbery make me feel bad about our home.
My chin lifted and I marched up the steps. Marcus had left the front door wide open. I climbed up the creaky staircase, with Jake following closely behind.
When we entered the apartment, I was suddenly aware of how cramped it must appear to Jake. He probably lived in a humongous penthouse with views of Lake Michigan. Our apartment had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen I could barely turn around in without bumping into something, and a small living room. We had no dining area and normally ate dinner at the counter or sat on the sofa. The walls could use a fresh coat of paint and the appliances were old. At least the furnishings were decent. We salvaged what we could when we moved out of our house in Edison Park.
“Um…why don’t you have a seat? Do you want anything to drink? I have soda, juice and water. I’m sorry I don’t have beer or wine, but I’m not a drinker and of course, Marcus is too young.” I knew I was rambling, but now that he was in my private space, I had an attack of nerves.
“Water is fine.”
Before I could turn away, he grabbed my hand and peered down at me. “Is everything okay with Marcus?”
My fingers tingled from his touch and I fought to not blush under his regard.
“He won’t say anything. The school has suspended him for three days. I’m scared to send him back there if this will happen again. It’s a black eye today, but it could be worse next time.”
Jake narrowed his eyes in thought. “How about moving him to a private school? There’s an academy that’s devoted to math and science in the city.”
I couldn’t contain my exasperation. “Jake, it’s not like I haven’t thought of that, but it’s mid-school year. Nobody accepts applications right now. Besides, private school costs a lot of money.” Afraid he would misinterpret my statement, I rushed to explain, “Not that you don’t give me a generous salary, but I need a bit more time to save up the funds.”