by Amy Hoxton
Lucy stared at my painting, and in turn, I stared at her.
Arms crossed on her chest, she brought a finger above her lips and held it there. Those plump lips, clad in noting but a dark shade of red lipstick, almost bordering on brown.
Her gaze scanned the canvas, taking in every minute detail I put into it just as I did the same to her body. I couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t deny the fact that I liked what I saw.
I had never stopped to truly look at her. Past the work-related boundaries, down to the very basic roots of who we were: a man and a woman, originally pitted against one another by a rivalry we never cared about.
“It needs more life,” She nervously remarked after what felt like a year of silence. Lucy tapped her lips once and then twice with the tip of her finger, before exclaiming her final answer. “Birds, definitely!”
I nodded in agreement. “You’re right, I could add some critters here and there…”
Lucy’s eyes widened, expressing a joy I had never seen before. Perhaps she thought I wouldn’t value her opinion, or maybe she was afraid I would dismiss it. Adding living creatures to the jungle would, in fact, improve it, and considering it was meant to represent one of the busiest cities in the world, it made sense to have it populated by more than just trees.
I bowed my head slightly. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” She winked. “I’m always just a few steps away.”
When Lucy left my office, we both had the same dumb grin plastered over our faces. It could have been a hint, one of those I was so bad at reading. Or an omen.
Deep down, I like to think we were both starting to realize there was something buried just below the surface. Dying to emerge and thrive.
Alas, life is unpredictable. All we can do is try to steer it towards our goals and dreams. It’s a hit or miss, really, and even the best laid plans can go up in smoke in less than a minute.
Sometimes, however, the stars align perfectly. It’s a rare occurrence, one I had yet to experience. Something told me I soon would, despite the constellations themselves being shaped like someone I should have hated.
Chapter Nine
Lucy
Boredom is one hell of a drug.
I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. There was nothing to do on that lazy Saturday afternoon, and even if there was, it could very well wait. My mind wandered, as it usually did, and I let it.
Physically I was home, safe and sound. Mentally, I found myself back at my workplace. There was no company loyalty involved in that, however. Just him.
Alexander, the self described asshole that actually wasn’t one — at least to me.
Some thing had changed over the course of the previous week, wreaking nothing but havoc on my poor nerves.
For starters, Alexander began leaving the doors of his office open at any time, unless a high-profile client was present. I was welcome to waltz in at any time — as he put it — just to chat or to provide feedback on his painting.
The New York jungle, he called it. Far from being finished, it was shaping up to be a beautiful piece. Alex kept jokingly blaming me for his return to art. It felt nice, really. I would take that blame any day of the week. It was evident Alexander Harris had the soul of an artist, trapped into a shell that couldn’t contain it.
Back when I started working at his company — it had been a few months at that point — Alex’s demeanor was completely different. A two faced being of sorts, he consistently showed his true side to me and left nothing but his ruthlessness for everyone else. They had to bend the knee, whether they wanted it or not — I didn’t.
I hardly even needed to look deep below the surface to find who Alex truly was. Glimpses of his real self bled through the high walls he erected to protect himself, though perhaps he was the one allowing me to take a peek.
If that was the case, it made it all the more significant. Why me, out of all the women he could have? Was I just reading too much into it? With every passing day and every fleeting thought, I became more and more convinced I wasn’t just misreading his signals. Be it a cry for help or a mating call, there was something there. Something real, visceral, that couldn’t be faked by even the most skilled actors.
I drew a long breath and opened my eyes. The white of the ceiling desperately needed to be painted over with some other color, just to break the monotony and follow the overall theme of my room.
In truth, theme was a stretch. It mostly consisted of a jumbled mess of mismatched items I thought were cute, weird, or simply caught my attention. Save for an old desk and my bed, the rest of my room housed a wide variety of pillows and stuffed animals I had ever since I was a little girl.
Most of them had names, obviously, though some of them were already fading away from my memory. Keeping them might have been childish — as some didn’t fail to remind me every now and then — though I couldn’t bear the thought of throwing them away. Donating them would make sense, if my inner child would allow me.
I had grown up under their watchful gazes. I even brought one of them with me to college. An old, battered teddy bear with a red bow tie. That little guy had seen my best and worst, and at times I wished he could talk just so I could tap into his wisdom.
Their heads were full of synthetic fiber, sure, but in those days I didn’t exactly feel any different than that. Alexander and his antics kept making guest appearances in the most inappropriate of times. I could be walking down the street, catch a glimpse of a man in a suit and all manners of sirens and alarms would go off in my head.
My heart would skip a beat or two, despite knowing it couldn’t be him. Not in this neighborhood, at least.
He could be everywhere, at any given time. Right beside me, locked in a staring contest against the stuffed animals. In the kitchen, watching me cook. In the shower, watching me bite my lip to keep quiet.
Despite the glaring evidence I didn’t want to admit I liked him. Did I, though? Did I really like that man, the one that won me at a poker game yet showed me nothing but warmth despite being ice cold to most of his peers?
The stuffed animals sat in silence. That was their answer, the same one it had always been.
“Thanks, guys,” I murmured, defeated.
Sitting, or in my case, lying, in bed torturing myself with scenarios that may or may not happen, wasn’t the best of ideas. I knew that even back then, yet I was starved for options.
The poster I took from Shaw’s dying coffee shop hung on the wall opposite of the one my bed stood against. Just looking at it brought back some warm memories long since buried under a dusty pile of thoughts and worries. I smiled, and almost toyed with the idea of going back. I had been there before, back when I still could.
With that no longer being an option, all I could do is move forward.
I jumped out of bed, snuffing a groan that made me sound octogenarian, and headed towards the living room. Brianna was splayed out across our couch, legs dangling off on its side as she was too tall to fit properly.
Her eyes were glued to her phone as she listened to music through a pair of comically large headphones. The personification of youthful carelessness, wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old tank top that had surely seen better days.
She didn’t see me coming. I sat on the armrest of the couch and poked her leg to get her attention, causing her to snap back to reality and tilt her head upwards.
I motioned her to take off her headphones and she did, after stopping the music on her phone.
“Food?” She asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“No, dummy,” I shook my head. “I need your help.”
“Awh, fine.” Her maternal instincts suddenly kicked in, her face getting serious. “Did you rob another store or something?”
I pushed her legs to the side and sat on the couch. That armrest, digging into my thighs, was starting to get uncomfortable — just as the thoughts scattered about in my head were.
Rolling my eyes I drew a d
eep breath and started explaining what happened. “Again, no. I already told you I had the keys and…”
Brianna interrupted me. “Alright, alright. I know. I was kidding. Now, what’s up?”
I slumped onto the couch just as she adjusted her posture. A little role reversal never hurt anyone, though I needed her mom side to float up to the surface.
“I don’t know, Bree,” I sighed, shaking my head ever so slightly.
I shifted my gaze onto a fashion magazine we kept on the table as a makeshift coaster. The faded picture of some random woman stared back at me, perhaps judging me for not having the courage to speak up. Fuck you, random woman.
“I think I might like him,” I spat out. As soon as the words became sounds instead of a jumbled mess of thoughts, I felt relieved. The boulder that weighted me down vanished into thin air, its throne, located on my chest, left vacant.
Brianna’s reaction was not what I expected. A faint smile creased her serious visage. “Do you just think, or is there more to it?”
“No, I… I don’t know…” I hesitated. Between not wanting to admit it and genuinely not knowing the answer to that question, I was stumped.
“Yes you do,” She nodded. “I mean, look at him!”
I hadn’t specified who he was. Regardless, Brianna was smart enough to realize I was obviously talking about Alexander. Hell, even that woman on the magazine knew.
“It’s not just about looks. There’s a lot more than that!” I exclaimed, straightening back up.
“Yeah, I know. And I vividly recall you saying he’s a jerk, so what gives?” Her eyebrows narrowed and she raised her shoulders ever so slightly. There was a hint of superiority in her voice, drowned out by her sweet motherly instincts. At times I both loved and wanted to strangle her.
“He’s not a jerk to me,” I retorted, adding emphasis on the last two words. Alexander had been cold at first, but never displayed outright hostility — despite the history our families shared.
Brianna nodded in silence. She drifted off for a few seconds, possibly waiting for me to say something else. How Alexander treated me like a human being rather than a slab of meat, or how he wasn’t just a good looking asshole.
“It looks like you already made up your mind there, Lucy,” She broke the brief silence, cocking her head to the side. The corners of her mouth rose into a sly, knowing smile. She had me, and delivered the killing blow that would surely send me running to the hills to find my prince charming.
I was about to reply, but she cut me off before I could even get a word out.
“Look around you. This house has never been this clean! And that poster? Breaking and entering doesn’t fit you!” She yelled, her tone tainted by a tinge of sarcastic fake anger.
My head hung low. Eyes closed in resignation as I silently agreed to the points she made. I drew a deep, deep breath and held it there, just for a second.
Exhaling, I lifted my head up and looked Brianna in the eyes. Our gazes met. Hers, fiery. Mine, not so much.
My phone buzzed rhythmically. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. My dear father was calling.
I’ll freely admit our relationship got worse ever since I began working at Harris Electronics. At times I flat out didn’t want to talk to him, knowing he would spew his usual rhetoric about how Alexander couldn’t be trusted. “Reynolds and Harris are like cats and dogs,” He would say, “They don’t go well together.”
I forced myself to pick up and sound happy to be hearing from him. My acting skills were lackluster at best. Brianna put her headphones back on to give me some privacy, just as my father began talking.
The usual greetings went by fairly quickly. Following his tried and tested script he steered the conversation onto familiar territory.
“So how is Harris treating you?” He asked, a thinly veiled note of disgust in his voice. Even through the distorted audio, he couldn’t mask his feelings.
“Quite well, now that you mention it. I might just stay,” I shot back. Brianna desperately tried to hide a smirk, and I rolled my eyes at her. I didn’t mind her eavesdropping all that much, but I still punched her softly in the arm.
As for my father, he suddenly went quiet. I would have given everything to be able to see the look on his face. In truth I didn’t really know why I said I was considering staying at Alexander’s company. Perhaps I just wanted to get back at my father, or Alexander’s grip on me was stronger than I realized.
I heard him clear his throat. “If that’s what you wish. Bear in mind, I do not approve.” He spoke slowly and deliberately. A stern voice that demanded a clearly unrequited respect. The one I’d heard him use so many times before.
“Bear in mind, I don’t care,” I scoffed, bitterly, and hung up. His manipulation had gone on long enough. I was both surprised and mildly upset for not standing up for myself sooner.
Everyone has a breaking point, and I was barreling towards mine.
The rest of the weekend breezed past.
Monday was shaping up to be an awful day judging by the pouring rain I woke up to. Getting to work would take more time than usual, and I hated having to rush my morning routine.
I’ll admit I wasn’t too big on makeup, despite having a licensed makeup artist in the house. Brianna’s side of the bathroom looked like a Sephora warehouse, whereas mine was far more conservative. I kept the essentials around, she had everything else.
I arrived at the company building right on time, though I had to skip breakfast. In truth Alexander probably wouldn’t have minded me being a few minutes late. I took punctuality as a sign of character.
As I expected, he was already in his office. I could hear him talking on the phone, and decided to wait for the conversation to be over before walking in to greet him.
A warm smile brightened his concerned face, prompting me to investigate. “Is everything okay?”
Alexander nodded. “Just another fundraiser. Nice way start the day, huh?” He joked, still not quite as relaxed as he normally was.
“I see, I see. I’ll shuffle your schedule around if you want, just give me the details and I’ll handle the rest.” For a moment I was worried I had missed a call at my desk, despite being perfectly on time. Whoever Alex was talking to called him on his cellphone.
“That won’t be necessary, Lucy,” He began, steeling himself as he sat upright. “It’s in two days. At eight o’clock. Bertrand manor, near the bay. Wanna come?”
I nearly choked on my saliva, which threw me into a fit of coughing. He dropped that bombshell onto me so nonchalantly it stunned me. I didn’t know what to say.
“Really?” I stammered out, my voice still raspy from the coughing.
“Why not? It’ll be fun. I hope.” Alexander shrugged, smirking as he did so.
“I…Uh…” All the doubts and all those thoughts that haunted me, came rushing back with a mighty vengeance. Yet just as I found the strength to stand up for myself, it was also time to take control of my life and stop living in the backseat.
I cleared my throat and looked Alex in the eyes. “I would love to.”
His face flushed with relief, and joy chased it away right after. “I’ll pick you up at seven, then. Sounds good?”
“Sounds great!” I exclaimed, and noticed how the roles had reversed. I was the one trying to hide my obvious concern that time. That concern was born out of happiness, and yet my stomach turned to knots as I walked back to my desk.
My chair squeaked rather loudly as I sat on it, trying to calm my nerves and failing miserably. A fundraiser? In two days? The longer I thought about it, the more I realized how close I was to freaking out.
I would need an outfit. Makeup. Shoes. Everything! Brianna was my only hope, there was no way in hell I could manage everything on such a short notice.
“Damn it, Alex,” I muttered, pulling out my phone to text Brianna. She would have a field day with it, I could already picture her ecstatic giggles.
We were complete opposite
s when it came to matters such as those. Something like this would excite her to no end, and turn me into a ball of anxiety.
Chapter Ten
Alexander
The look on Lucy’s face was priceless.
She read me like an open book and cornered me in the span of a few seconds, begging the question: was she that good at it, or was I getting sloppy?
Either way, she said yes. That was all I cared about, really. For a second I thought she would refuse, or even be offended that I asked her.
I always hated fundraisers. Their objective was noble, sure, but the execution showed nothing but hypocrisy. That was enough to leave a permanent bad taste in my mouth, that not even the drinks — that just so happened to be my recurring dates for those events — could wash away.
Having Lucy with me would change everything, shift things around, give them a new perspective. Or so I hoped. There definitely was more to us than just work, and I was certain we both knew that.
I wished for change, and that wish was barely concealed. I wished the artist painting my future would grab a large brush and reshape everything. Lucy could have been the key, for all I knew. I hoped she would be.
The event itself would serve as proof. If something was to happen between us, it would surely be during that night.
I was somewhat nervous about the whole affair.
Even James noticed and asked me about it. I played it off as stress, corroborated by my undying hate for fundraisers and the crowds they drew. James knew better than to delve deeper into it, and accepted it at face value. Why investigate and force me to admit to something he already knew? He’d seen me take plenty of women home — he drove the damn car. He knew this one was not like the others, perhaps seeing things far more clearly than I did. Wisdom comes with age, and possibly watching others make countless mistakes.