Aquarius - Mr. Humanitarian: The 12 Signs of Love (The Zodiac Lovers Series)

by Tiana Laveen

  “Oh, boy! Let me turn around and give you my full attention so I can get a grasp of these rare intellectual jewels you’re about to toss my way! I’m not worthy!”

  Mark ignored him and continued on with his spiel.

  “Aiden, you might want to hang around people with a bit more class so they can show you the ropes. Tim, for instance, is not going anywhere in life and you know what they say? To become what you want to be, you need to hang around with those you want to be like.”

  “You must hang around the john all day staring at floating shit then. Fuck off.”

  Mark chuckled, then turned on his heels and vanished, like a fart that no one could see, but could definitely smell.

  Aiden rubbed his tired eyes, shot his gaze towards his desk phone, then back at the screen. The night prior had been one of the longest of his life. He was up for half of it, listening to his mother rattle on about how her boss at the restaurant kept cheating her out of her hours and her paycheck was nothing to write home about, either. Who knew if the woman would even recall what they’d discussed? She always seemed to forget the next day. He looked at the phone once more, and after a long, heavy exhale, he picked up the receiver and gave her the customary morning call.

  “Hello…” she said in a groggy voice. He couldn’t tell if she was just sleepy or still drunk. Oftentimes, it sounded the same either way.

  “Mom, are you up for work? You’re supposed to be by now so that you’re not late.”

  “Mmmm.” He heard what sounded like plastic bottles falling to the floor. “What … what time is it?”

  “8:54, Mom… You’re supposed to be at work by 9:30 today according to the schedule you gave me. You’re going to be late.” He sighed as he checked the time on his computer.

  “Shit.” She gasped, as if coming to the sudden realization that he was right.

  He could almost envision her trying to rise out of the bed, but falling flat on her back, her silky, wrinkled slip drifting off one shoulder. A flash of her drunken state the month prior knocked on his brain as if it were made of wood. It was a broken record… fucking Groundhog Day.

  “Mmmm, thank… thanks for the wakeup call.” She laughed lightly, as if a little joke had been shared between mother and son. He wasn’t the least bit amused and as he looked down into his empty coffee mug, he wished he could simply hang up and move on with his day. Playing babysitter was wearing on his nerves as of late. He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember but he was nearing his breaking point.

  They rolled around in a stretch of silence, while he craved the caffeine more than ever. A beer would’ve taken the edge off, but that would have to wait until he clocked out of work.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he finally said, not wishing to drag out the awkward silence a second longer.

  “Okay, I love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.” Disconnecting the call, he picked up his coffee cup and exited his cubicle, in dire need of a refill.

  “Aiden…” He paused when he heard his boss’ voice. “Do you have a moment? Come into my office for a second.”

  “Yes, of course.” Aiden looked longingly over his shoulder at the breakroom where the coffee maker percolated, then made his way inside Mr. William Jones’ office.

  “Please close my door behind you.” Aiden did the honors then faced William with his award-winning professional smile.

  William had a simple look with his blue shirt and black suit. Dark brown short hair that curled at the nape framed a face with a natural rosiness to his cheeks. His blue eyes were rather small, but his gaze exuded friendliness, paired with lips that always appeared to be smiling, even when giving unfortunate announcements. This characteristic had a rather odd creep factor that made some after-hour joke rounds between fellow co-workers. Aiden noted for the umpteenth time how the space between his short-bridged nose and upper lip seemed pretty wide, causing his Cupid’s bow to look exceptionally long.

  The man always smelled of Listerine—not a bad scent at all. Aiden flopped down in the chair in front of the man, sliding his ass around in the seat as he tried to get comfortable. William clasped his hands and leaned forward.

  “I wanted you to know that I am aware that you applied for the new manager position, just as we discussed regarding your career goals in your last evaluation. I’m sure it is no surprise to you, but several of your co-workers have applied for it, too. HR and the district manager will be conducting interviews soon and I’ve put in a good word for you.”

  “Thanks a lot, William. I really appreciate that.” The man nodded and smiled hesitantly, as if there were words left unsaid, but he wasn’t certain if he should blurt them out or not.

  “You deserve it. You’ve worked very hard here and your clients speak of you quite highly. Uh, Aiden, I want to give you a heads up that we have a heavier caseload coming up over the next couple of months. Amazon and Paccar sent over some new job postings to us. Of course, we’d like to get them filled as soon as possible, but with the best qualified people. It looked like your last recruitment campaign went pretty well.”

  Aiden sat a bit straighter and nodded. “It did. I set up at Bellevue College this time around and it worked out well. I let them know about upcoming spring break positions, too.”

  “Yeah, I saw that. Anyway, keep up the good work. Just wanted to touch base with you and let you know about the extra hours coming up and update you on the other things, too.”

  Aiden stood from the seat. “Thanks for letting me know … and thanks again for the good word about the position.”

  William gave him a salute, then Aiden vacated the office, excitement filling him like a goblet. Slowly closing the door behind him, he made his way to the breakroom to get that much-needed coffee and recall all his classic gaming moves. $700, his cut of the deal, could come in handy…

  Addison held the crinkled fitness instructor certificate with a shaky hand. Tossing it aside, she stood in the one-bedroom apartment in Building A of the 77 Central Apartments at Mercer Island. Multiple labeled cardboard boxes of varying sizes were stacked all around her like a fortress from which she could never escape. She took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed, as if the walls, boxes, and the entire world were closing in on her. She picked up her now warm bottle of water from the floor and took a long gulp while MS MR serenaded “Hurricane” on her charging cellphone. She exhaled and inhaled again, her energy practically zapped as she swiped at her forehead, gathering a layer of sweat on the back of her hand. Catching a whiff of herself, she winced in disgust.

  Good God, I need a shower…

  It had been a long, grueling move, claiming strength she didn’t have to put some items in storage, pack up the U-Haul to the max, and bring her belongings over to the apartment she’d found just in time.

  This is a far cry from home…

  Addison was more accustomed to bedrooms the size of this entire dwelling, marble bathrooms with large gold fixtures, his and hers sinks, Jacuzzi tubs that were programmable from a panel on a wall, and a cleaning service that made her home look like a hotel on a daily basis.

  But all of that was gone. She had no choice, for Daniel had left her no other options. The constant arguments, cheating and verbal abuse had become way too much, and she’d put up with it for far longer than she should’ve. The last proverbial slap in the face had happened two years earlier, when her surgeon husband slept with their also married neighbor, a woman she’d befriended and trusted. That had been the final straw. This year she’d be turning thirty-one, and she refused to give this drama another second of her life.

  She hugged herself, the memories seeming too fresh, though they’d happened eons ago. Last year she hadn’t been so strong. She’d fallen apart, flailing about in the wind like a half dead autumn leaf right before the first frost.

  She’d lived off the few savings she had, holding on to that big house for as long as she could, but it became too much. The financial strain had strangled her, choking her to econom
ic death, and she’d refused to ask her parents to shovel her out of the bind. That would have been far too risky, likely coming with a price that could jeopardize her freedom.

  At the time of the divorce, she’d been out of the fulltime working world for so long, she’d had no idea where to turn and what to do. And then came the gray, cloudy bout of depression. She’d gone into denial to boot—keeping on spending, smiling, and swearing that everything would work out in the end. In her hope of hopes, Daniel had offered a billion apologies, begged to go to counselling and come groveling at her feet. It had seemed tempting. On top of that, she’d be hired at one of the top hospitals or physical rehabilitation centers in the city and her life would be well and pretty once again.

  All dreams…

  None of that happened. The money dried up like grapes on a vine in the sun, and then, her anger was unleashed. A rage that scared her to the core, growing strong and steady, no off button in sight. Not because she was now officially broke and the alimony of only one year had expired—he’d managed that with top-notch, vicious dog attorneys, and she’d been reckless enough to sign a prenup agreement when foolishly in the throes of love. The anger festered because she had to face the situation and see herself for what she was. Naïve, dare she admit it, and stupid. Boy, did that sting…

  As those old, worn tapes played in her mind, Addison turned towards a mirror attached to a double door closet. What an odd place to set one; she’d noticed it immediately when she’d rented the nice but tiny place. She took in her image from head to toe…

  Short dark brown curly hair covered her head, some pieces stragglier and straighter than others while a few had thick, lustrous coils. She pulled at a cluster of strands, stretching them to about six or seven inches, then let them spring back. Today she’d added a bit of water and olive oil to loosen the curl and seal in the moisture. Her hot pink sports bra and black tank top over it were soaked with perspiration, like the black and ocean blue leggings. A pair of white Sketchers sneakers she’d purchased online completed her workout outfit.

  She ran a hand across her cheek, feeling dehydrated skin. The bags under her eyes were a purplish hue and her typical supple tan lips were dry and cracked like an Arizona desert. She walked over to her cellphone and plucked her purse that was sitting next to it from the floor.

  Digging into the thing, she removed a small bottle of lotion she’d snatched from a hotel room over a year ago, and a chap stick, too. Then, she moseyed back over to the mirror, fluffed her hair, and liberally applied the needed moisture to her lips and almond-colored face and arms. On a sigh, she returned the items to her purse and grabbed a stack of tri-folded papers before slumping to the floor and flipping through them.

  Copies of the divorce papers…

  The rental property lease…

  The storage facility contract…

  The confirmation of an appointment with a job recruiter the following morning…

  She opened and closed her legs, restlessness compelling her to move, and she tapped her left foot to the slow beat of the gloomy music. She looked down at the employment agency information as her thoughts faded in and out.

  Dexter Employment Staffing & Consulting Agency

  Agent: A. Quade Summers

  Time of Appointment: 9:00 AM

  A. Quade Summers… hmmm, that’s a different name.

  She smirked as she rolled around that moniker in her mind.

  Quade…Quade… Like Wade I guess, but with a ‘Qu’… or does he pronounce it, Quee-ade? Maybe it’s a woman—a foreign woman? No, Quade sounds masculine. Who knows though? I wonder what the ‘A’ stands for?

  Standing again, she walked over to one of the many boxes that threatened to topple over. Snatching the tape off the crease and sides, she dug into the container, removing stacks of CDs she’d collected from her college years.

  This was supposed to go to storage. Oh, well…

  She smiled as she recalled some of the oldies but goodies in her stash, figuring she’d give them another chance once she got settled. Those had been happy times in her life, unlike the harsh reality she faced now. Shaking off the troubling, depressing thoughts, she marched over to her phone and set her alarm for 7:30 AM.

  That’ll give me time to work out, eat breakfast, get dressed, and make it there on time.

  Deciding to listen to something else, she perused her phone’s playlist and selected Porter Robison’s “Goodbye to a World.” She laughed miserably at her choice, then resumed her unpacking, going through the motions in an almost robotic fashion. Moments later, she found herself placing plates in slightly slanted kitchen cabinets and praying they didn’t slide out and crash onto the ground. She turned the music louder before cleaning the oven inside and out, removing old grease and slick oil—an obviously forgotten housekeeping task left to her to deal with.

  Her eyes watered as she moved on to bleaching the dishwasher and refrigerator a good time or two, the fumes a bit overpowering, but she opened the windows and fought through it. She fell into the beat of the various tunes as she daydreamed and fought tears and bursts of maniac laughter. Meanwhile, she ignored several phone calls from her many friends, telling herself she’d call them back later. Surely, they could wait, allowing her just a little more time to simply fall apart and swim in the deepest pool of sadness she could dive into…

  CHAPTER TWO

  Love Your Brother, Love Thy Neighbor

  The awesome vibe to a no drama day had been ruined. Aiden hadn’t confirmed that his peace of mind was officially destroyed, but he instinctively knew it was Destruction Eve based on the caller ID. Aiden cut his eyes at his phone, then looked away with a huff. Things had been going too well, so he wondered how soon his apple cart would be rocked and toppled over, changing his luck. The phone rang and rang, went to voicemail, then began again. Once a week, his younger brother, Perry, would call. It was that time.

  Fuck it. Just answer. It’s not like I can escape.

  He snatched the phone up and shoved it towards his ear. Before he could get a word out, his brother started up.

  “She’s really done it now. This time she busted up the place, Aiden.”

  “Work or home?” Aiden got up from his desk and made his way towards the restrooms for a bit more privacy.

  “She’s at home. They said they heard a lot of glass and shit. I am not going over there, man, got a meeting in a little bit, but one of us better go before the police show up.”

  “This is fucking ridiculous. I can’t keep leaving work early or time my lunches around mom’s crap. I told you to stop giving her extra money. She just spends it on booze!”

  “How are you gonna make this about me? How is it my damn fault, Aiden?!”

  “It’s not your fault, but you’re enabling her. She’s an alcoholic, has been for years, and you’re not helping. You never want to face ’er and then you leave me to clean up all the mess afterward.”

  “You’re a real piece of work, Aiden. You help her out, too! You call to make sure she gets up for work; you go over and straighten up her house and take her grocery shopping. I’m not the only damn one, okay?”

  Going inside a bathroom stall, he closed and locked the door behind him.

  “But none of that is helping her drink, Perry! Those are things I do because she’s older and our mom, period! If she was a nun or prostitute, I’d do it for her, makes me no difference. Anyway, her neighbor called you again, I take it?”

  “Yeah, and they know I moved out over a year ago but they keep callin’ me anyway. I asked them to stop, but I guess they’re tryna avoid calling the cops on her.” Perry sounded beaten down into the ground, as if he couldn’t stomach another second of this. Yet, he didn’t mind doing this, laying it on him, every single week. “She mentioned something about your birthday the other day, that you’re turning thirty-two soon. She said the year she turned your age was one of the best of her life. She wanted me to tell you that for some reason. Maybe that’s why she lost her mind this tim
e, Aiden. Maybe she’s thinking about the good old days.”

  Aiden closed his eyes and placed his hand over his face as he cradled the phone between his neck and shoulder. He stretched his arm up in answer to a strange impulse, as if praying to the heavens or trying to capture a dream before it escaped him. He sat like that for several seconds before lowering his arm back to his side. The prayer wasn’t answered. Mom was still a drunk and Perry rattled on about all the bullshit she was doing, according to her neighbors. The complaints about the ruckus were endless.

  Perry worked as a Senior Manager at the grocery store but Aiden worked closer to Mom’s apartment, and well, the truth was that Perry wasn’t always emotionally strong enough to talk some sense into her drunken self. It was a simple fact that Aiden was the more rational of the two, definitely less emotional, and though they were only three years apart, sometimes Aiden felt as if Perry behaved like a teenager when it came to these sorts of issues. He wouldn’t even admit Mom was an alcoholic, calling a spade a spade—only that she drank a lot. Even when he was living under her roof, he spent most of the time couch surfing at friends’ places to avoid her. Perry wasn’t supposed to be with her because he had no place to go; he was there to watch over her and keep her out of trouble. But, he just wasn’t cut out for the job.

  Aiden made his way back to his cubicle and flopped down on the chair.

  “So, are you going? We’ve got some trucks coming and I need to make sure everything in the produce department gets unloaded first.”

  “I thought you said you had a meeting and that’s why you couldn’t go over to Mom’s place?” He was met with silence; another notorious Perry lie had been born and cast his way. It was becoming tiresome.

  “I do, but I have the, uh, the trucks coming, too.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you do. Just like I have an appointment with a talking dolphin who wears a little red cape in five minutes. Perry, you’re full of shit. Don’t insult my intelligence. Seriously.” His brother sighed but said nothing further. Aiden glanced at the time on his computer. 4:43 PM. “Look, it’ll have to wait a few minutes. I need to make a good impression, all right? I’m tryna—”