He's Back

by Aria Ford

  It had been two days since I saw Drake. I didn't know what was going on with him. I'd texted him and his phone seemed to be switched off – the message didn't go through, anyway. I didn't know what was wrong with him.

  I guess he's walked away from me again.

  I knew I was probably just conditioned by his earlier behavior I mean, he had walked away and stayed away for eight years. It wasn't like his record of not-disappearing was great. I sighed. I couldn't blame myself for being plain ordinary suspicious of him now.

  I settled down at my kitchen table and ate my supper – my own version of Pad Thai, inspired by the meal we'd had the previous two nights ago. The taste of the sweet-and-sour drizzle made me think of him and I recalled scenes from that night.

  My tummy tightened with longing as I thought of his hand stroking me, moving my thighs apart. I sighed and opened my eyes.

  I shouldn't torment myself.

  I made a decision. If I hadn't heard from him by Wednesday – three days from now, that was – I was going to drive to his apartment myself and call him out about it.

  I finished my supper and washed up, then worked out for an hour and went to bed.

  The next morning, I drove to work and walked in glumly. It was cloudy and it didn't help my mood, which was already dark and depressive. I walked past the secretary and up the three remaining flights of stairs to my office, hoping raising my blood-pressure would raise my excitement. It didn't.

  “Morning,” I called to Emmy, who turned around and grinned at me.

  “Hey, A!” she smiled. “How are you?”

  “Not well, actually,” I said. I felt vaguely sick – probably just my low mood, I reckoned. My stomach felt heavy as if breakfast was sitting undigested in it and my head hurt.

  “Oh.” She pulled a face. “That's too bad.”

  “It's not terrible,” I commented, feeling my stomach lurch a little at the thought of it. “I'm okay, honestly.”

  “Well, I'm sure it'll pass quickly,” she said reassuringly. “I think Stan might be getting a cold,” she observed informatively, “so maybe it's going around. Sometimes things are, this time of year.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I nodded distractedly I sat down behind my desk and opened a file to start work.

  I was still working when Lacey came in.

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “That'd be great. Emmy?”

  “Pass,” she said without looking up. “Sorry, but I have to finish this now or the boss will actually throw me out the window...”

  We both laughed and I shrugged on my coat, following Lacey downstairs, out through the lobby into the crisp, cool air beyond the door.

  “How's the weekend?” Lacey asked as we headed down the street together.

  “Not bad,” I said mildly. In fact, it had been miserable. I'd hoped to hear from Drake and had been met with blank absence. I wasn't sharing it.

  “Oh. Mine was hectic...last minute budget stuff to do. You know, like usual.” She rolled her eyes and I gave her a smile.

  “You pressure yourself too hard, Lacey,” I commented. “You should just let things go more. I saw this interesting article, actually,” I remembered. “Something about work-stress...let me show you.”

  I dug out my phone, searching for site where I thought I'd seen it - the blog feature of prominent magazine Busnews.

  I went to the page and stared.

  What? No way...

  I scrolled through the article, feeling my heart in my throat. “No!” the whisper escaped me involuntarily

  Lacey stopped and looked at me, frowning worriedly. “What, Ain?” she asked, concerned. “What's up?”

  Wordlessly, I showed her the article.

  “That's really bad,” she said.

  I nodded. It was. Really, really bad.

  The article in question was about Steelcore. It featured some graphic, shocking pictures. Pictures of child labor. Of appalling miner's housing. Of dangerous work-conditions.

  “Steelcore's secret of shame,” I said, echoing the heading.

  I closed my eyes. It was Drake's, too. His secret of shame.

  I thought about him. His fancy shoes, his Rolex, his Levi's. They'd all been bought like this. In the blood and tears of kids.

  I was disgusted.

  “It's not his fault,” Lacey said gently.

  “I know it isn't,” I said. My voice was cold. “He didn't have to go there. He didn't have to sell out to them. Let them buy him. That is his fault.”

  “Ainsley,” Lacey cautioned. She reached out and put a hand on my arm. “Don't. Really.”

  I shook my head, fighting my tears. “You didn't know him,” I whispered.

  “No,” she agreed. “I didn't. Not before.”

  I nodded. The tears were flowing now, I couldn't fight them. It was such a shock. The man I thought I knew – the man with principles, the man who didn't even eat meat, who had convinced me to give it up for a whole month before I folded and reneged – didn't really exist.

  He was a self-absorbed, mercenary man after all.

  I felt so confused. I looked at Lacey and she rested a hand on my shoulder. “Come on,” she said gently. She dug in her pocket, passing me her tissue. “Let's grab coffee,” she said. “You'll feel better with something warm inside you.”

  I nodded mutely. Allowed her to lead me to the nearby Starbucks and nudge me to a table. “Cappuccino?” she asked.

  “Yes. Please,” I said softly.

  “Coming up. Two cappuccinos, please,” she said to Dalton, the youth behind the counter.

  “Sure, ma'am,” he sang out cheerfully. “Coming right up.”

  I sat and watched, dimly, as businesspeople and families came into the shop and ordered and walked in and out, either sitting at one of the few tables or heading back out into the weather. I felt completely numb. It was as if the world was going around me and I was standing still, able to see and hear and breathe but unable to feel-

  Oh, Drake, I thought sadly. Why did you do this?

  I looked back at the article again but the image of those thin, suffering kids tore at my heart and I couldn't look at it anymore. I left the page, feeling sick. It was as if I had partaken in their exploitation somehow. Drake had bought me supper, hadn't he? And flowers, and drinks...I shook my head. If I was going to start painting everything he ever gave me with the blood of innocents, I was going to end up hating myself. All I needed was to hate him.

  “A cappuccino,” Lacey said, passing me the big Styrofoam cup. I smiled. She didn't have to buy me a large one. That was sweet of her.

  “Aw. Thanks, L,” I said. “You're my best friend.”

  She smiled at me fondly, pale skin blushed. “Thanks, Ain.” She said. She patted my hand. “It's okay.”

  I sighed. “I guess so,” I murmured.

  She took a big sip of the coffee. “Ah,” she sighed. She had topping on the end of her nose. I was going to mention it but the words stuck in my throat. I was suddenly in the cafe with Drake, with him gently buffing the foam off the end of my nose with a napkin.

  “Lacey?” I said, drinking some myself.

  “Uh huh?”

  I wiped the end of my nose, making big eyes.

  “Ah!” she grinned and wiped the end of her own nose. “Thanks, Ain.”

  “Not at all,” I said with a thin smile. I drank some more of the cappuccino. She was right. I did feel better.

  “Well,” I said with a smile. “How was your weekend? I didn't mean to be so depressing.”

  “You weren't being depressing,” she reassured me fondly. “And my weekend was nice.”

  “Oh?”

  “Uh huh. I took Saturday to go to the coast...there's a lovely little beach I just heard about – so peaceful! I just sat and watched the sea all day.”

  “Mm,” I said appreciatively. “That's nice.”

  “You should go there,” she said. “It's a great way to wind down.”

  “I'll think a
bout it,” I nodded. “It sounds like a good idea.”

  “It is,” she said, taking a sip and fixing me with a firm look from those soft blue eyes. “Don't stress out, huh?”

  I chuckled. “I'll try. But you should, too.”

  She made a wry grin. “I know. I guess I should do as I say, right?”

  “Uh huh,” I nodded, taking a long swig of my beverage. “I think you're a bad example to me.”

  She chuckled. “I agree,” she said. “I'll stress out less, if you do.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  We finished our coffee discussing the mysterious drink of chai latte, and then headed back to work. Out in the street, I was surprised to discover I felt a bit better.

  “Maybe we could take a trip somewhere this weekend,” I suggested. “Like to this place?”

  “That's a great idea,” Lacey nodded. “I'd like that. A chance to just get away and be ourselves. Time to stress out less.”

  I nodded. “Indeed.”

  We both laughed and by the time I returned to my desk I was feeling a bit better about life.

  After all, since Drake had already disappeared again, I needn't really worry.

  It isn't like he's in my life after all.

  So, really, I didn't have anything to worry about. Drake might have been a ruthless, unprincipled child exploiter – and a faker of note, since he always acted like he was completely different than that – but he wasn't in my life.

  “That's his problem,” I muttered to myself.

  “What's that, A?” Emmy called out.

  “Uh, nothing,” I commented. “Just thinking out loud.”

  “Oh, Good,” Emmy said. “I wouldn't mind if you could think out loud for me too,” she added. “Like about what to do about this recipe book.”

  “What book?” I inquired interestedly.

  “Uh huh,” she said, sounding exasperated. “The trouble is, most of the ingredients aren't even things I've heard of. Like quark, for example. So how am I supposed to write them in English?”

  “I didn't know we did cook-books?” I said. Our publishing house was known for books that challenged the status-quo. If there was a cooking book out there that was subversively counterculture, this was a first for me.

  “Well, this one's an organic cooking book from Germany,” she said. “I don't know why our boss thinks it's counter-culture, but I guess if she sees something in it, there must be. Right?” she inquired.

  “Right,” I agreed. “I'm quite glad to be stuck with another novel, seeing that,” I grinned over my shoulder at her.

  “Lucky you,” she said dolefully, scraping a red curl back over her shoulder.

  I smiled. I was feeling a bit better in general. It was true. I didn't have anything to worry about, I told myself. I had been seeing a dodgy person. But he'd taken himself out of my life.

  So I didn't have anything to worry about.

  It didn't make any sense, then, that I should be so sad, I thought, sniffing. But I couldn't help it: I felt betrayed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Drake

  I had done it. I'd resigned from work.

  I did it the day before the story broke – at least, I got my resignation sent off the Sunday before. I hadn't expected Alex to get the ball rolling fast. But when he saw the place and heard the stories, he realized it was huge.

  We'd arrived on Saturday, worked on Sunday – not a bad day to do it, since security was lower than usual with the guards' time off – and then everything happened on Monday.

  “I should be happy.”

  It was the end of a long battle, a successful conclusion of a task that had taken two years in forming. Now it was done.

  I still didn't know what the consequences were going to look like for me, mind you. But I did know it was done now. It was over.

  When my phone rang I jumped up from my seat. Panic shot through me. What if it was one of my bosses? I would have to confront them sometime. So far, no-one had even commented on my resignation. I should be at work but I couldn't face them.

  I lifted my phone and saw it was Liam. A stab of relief was followed by some disappointment. I had hoped Ainsley would contact me. I'd replied to her as soon as the plane landed on Monday, but she'd said nothing.

  “Liam?”

  “Hi! Drake, man!” Liam was happy. “Come and visit.”

  “I guess I should,” I said woodenly. “This was some achievement.”

  “Yeah! Let's celebrate!” Liam was ecstatic. “I guess you're busy this evening, huh?”

  “I'm not, actually,” I said thinly. “I resigned, you know.”

  “You said you might,” Liam commented. “Smart idea, Drake.”

  I sighed. “I dunno if it'll help, actually.” That was my chief worry. Just because I was no longer there didn't mean that someone there no longer knew it was me. In fact, walking out now made it plain. It was only a matter of time before the hammer fell and I was sued.

  And then I'll be finished.

  All I could hope was that, at this time, the company was so busy facing the media-frenzy to find me. I would at least have a week of security.

  In that case, I guessed I should join Liam and celebrate. “Okay,” I said. “Sounds good. Should we meet at the bar?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe, though if I was you I'd celebrate this privately. We can't exactly talk in the public eye. Not about this?”

  I sighed. “Good point. You're right. You wanna come here?”

  “Nah. My place is comfortable. And I have a bar. Come over. Shall we say seven-thirty?” he sounded hopeful. “I've got lots of beers and we can cook something. You can, anyway. I'm no good at that sort of thing. You know that,” he added cheerfully.

  “Great,” I said without much enthusiasm. “Sounds good, Liam.”

  “It does,” he agreed.

  I hung up and leaned back on the chair, feeling completely empty. I couldn't even rouse any enthusiasm for visiting my slightly-eccentric friend Liam, though that would usually have been a nice evening out.

  I guess it's just because I've finished this project. It always happens. End-project depression.

  I sighed and went to make more coffee. I knew it wasn't just because the thing that had driven me for the last two years was finally finished. It was more than that. It was the fact that I missed Ainsley, mainly.

  Is she mad at me for not replying sooner?

  I breathed in the flavorful steam from my coffee – I'd bought my favorite brand in celebration, because I had to do something to cheer up.

  I knew Ainsley and it wasn't like her to punish me for not replying to her by ignoring me too. At least, before all the craziness with me leaving on my one-man mission to the DRC, she wouldn't have mistrusted me like that.

  “I don't blame her,” I sighed. If she thought I was a lowlife now, it was no one's fault but mine. And right now I felt like one.

  I'd cheated the company I worked for, more or less. I'd betrayed Ainsley, by not telling her any of this; and I'd walked out on her all those years ago and made her not trust me.

  I took a long sip of coffee. Maybe I wouldn't feel like this if I had some honest distraction.

  But now that I'd quit at my job, I didn't have that, either. All the tasks I should have been doing – trying to settle matters with my ex-boss, job hunting, redoing a Curriculum Vitae – were either too scary or too hard to start now for the sake of distracting myself.

  “You need to go out,” I told my reflection as I walked past the mirror in the hallway. I stared at the man I saw there.

  My face looked surprisingly haggard. My eyes had dark prints under them – product of several sleepless nights and the recent crazy flight to Rio – and my cheek-bones stuck out worse.

  I ran a hand down my face and sighed again. Maybe I should go visit my sister. That would cheer me up a bit. I went through to the kitchen and checked my phone again, just in case Ainsley had decided to show me some mercy.

  Nothing.

&nb
sp; “It's Tuesday,” I told myself. “Why would she contact you today? You just messaged.”

  I rinsed my coffee-cup and made a plan of action. I'd take a walk to the park, take a quick run, rather than to head to the gym. I was trying to keep a low profile and there was a chance I might see one of my colleagues there. None of them would have known my resignation had anything to do with the sudden breaking news, of course. But I still didn't feel like having to give a long-winded and entirely-fabricated account of my resignation.

  I had my phone in my hand so I decided to call Harper, my sister.

  “She's probably up in LA with the kids,” I told myself. The phone rang and I held on for a bit.

  “Hi? Drake?”

  “Harper!” I was surprised by how happy I was to hear her voice. “How's things?”

  “Great,” she said. “Well, tiring, really. But also great. How are you? Such a surprise!”

  I smiled. “That's nice,” I said. At least someone was pleased to hear from me, I thought sadly.

  “Well, it is! Usually I'm the one calling you. Henry, I'm talking to your uncle Drake.”