“Get your fucking hands off of her. Right now.” His voice was colder than I’d ever heard it before.
Ryan immediately removed his hands and smiled an evil smile at me. It looked like he was about to say something rude, but Jonathan spoke first.
“If you value your life, Hayes—I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight before I take it away.”
Ryan looked at Jonathan and rolled his eyes, slowly backing away from underneath my umbrella, stepping out into the rain.
I watched him fade into the rush of umbrella holders that were now rushing out into the parking lot. I turned to face Jonathan again and realized he was still staring at me, looking as if I’d just broken his heart.
He bent down to pick up the white envelope that was on top of the shattered vase and flowers. Then he slowly strolled over to me and placed the single lily he was holding and that card on top of my car.
He narrowed his eyes at me and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Jonathan...” I could see the hurt in his eyes. “Let me explain...You know exactly how I feel about—”
He walked away before I could finish my sentence.
**
I rushed over to Jonathan’s office and stopped at Angela’s desk. I’d tried to run after him in the parking lot minutes ago, but he’d slipped away.
“Miss Gracen?” She looked up at me. “Are you okay? Would you like me to have someone bring you a set of dry clothes? A cup of hot coffee perhaps?”
I shook my head. I was drenched from head to toe, but I was too distressed to feel anything. “I need to speak to Jonathan.”
She looked down at her hands. “He’s not accepting any unscheduled appointments.”
“Bullshit, Angela. He’s back there and you know it. Tell him I’m here. Now.”
She picked up her phone. “Mr. Statham? I...Yes sir...” She put the phone down. “He told me to tell you to go home...”
I swallowed and pulled my phone out of my pocket, calling him for the tenth time since I’d left Starbucks.
It didn’t even ring twice. He hit ignore.
“Angela, please...” I knew she had the only other key to his door. “Could you just let me in and I’ll deal with whatever he says?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Gracen. I can’t afford to lose this job...He made the orders very clear...” She pulled a notepad and an envelope from her drawer. “I can make sure he gets your message though. I’ll make sure he reads it.”
I felt tears falling down my face and nodded to say ‘Thank you.’ I scribbled down my message, signing it with an ‘I love you’ and then I slowly drove myself home. Alone.
And I kept driving myself to the same empty house for the rest of the week...
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Jonathan
I don’t have shit to say.
Chapter 13
Jonathan
I stared out my office window, watching heavy sheets of rain fall over the city. As hard as I tried to rationalize what I’d seen in that parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel hurt.
My heart damn near broke at the sight of seeing her with someone else, but once I realized it was him—her ex-husband, it practically shattered.
Why didn’t she call me?
I knew there had to be a logical explanation—some type of reason, so I picked up my phone to call her, but there was already a call waiting.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Statham?” It was a high pitched voice. Miss Corwin.
“Good afternoon, Miss Corwin. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, I um...I’ve been leaving messages with your fiancée, but she hasn’t gotten back to me. I’ll be staying in town for the next few weeks, so would you mind leaving me a wedding invitation with your secretary? I asked Miss Gracen to mail me one, but she probably forgot.”
“When was this?”
“When was what?”
“When did you ask her to mail you the invitation?” I knew damn well we’d made her one. In fact, we’d made her ten, just in case she wanted to incorporate them into the reception space somehow.
“Um...Well, I asked her that night you came to L.A., remember? And I called her two weeks ago about it.”
“And you never received it?”
“No...” Her voice was soft. “I’m sorry if I’m causing you any trouble...”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll have it delivered to you personally.”
“Thank you...”
I hung up and called Milton.
“I’m on my way to your office, Jonathan.” He picked up on the first ring. “No need to act like you actually give a damn about my financial reports today.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Of course it isn’t. What do you want?”
“Have you received my wedding invitation in the mail yet?”
There was a knock on my door and I walked over to answer it.
“Would you like me to keep talking into the phone?” Milton walked into my office. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”
“Did you receive a wedding invitation?”
He shrugged. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure, but I don’t need one of those to be there if that’s why you’re asking...”
I shook my head. “No...I’m just...I’m just wondering.”
He asked me to give him a few minutes to get his files organized and I took a seat at my desk. I sent out a text to five people, five people who I knew I had personally told Claire to invite—addresses and all, and waited for them to tell me if they had received their invitation in the mail.
Their responses came back instantly: “No.” “No...” “No.” “I need an invitation to get in?” “No.”
What the fuck?!
I prepared to text Angela to get to the bottom of it, but I accidentally hit my email app and saw a message labeled: URGENT. It was from our cake designer:
To: Statham, Jonathan
From: Elegant Cakes, Inc.
Mr. Statham,
My name is Jacqueline Russell and I am the manager of Elegant Cakes. Per my conversation with your fiancée two weeks ago, I wanted to make sure that you were canceling your complete order which includes: One five tiered wedding cake, two three tiered dream cakes, and the customized frozen anniversary cake.
Since your name is on the contract and we have your signature on file, we’ll need you to verify that this information is correct.
We’re sorry we won’t be able to work with you on your special day,
Sincerely,
Jacqueline R.
My mind was officially blown. I couldn’t believe this shit.
“Jonathan? Jonathan?” Milton cleared his throat. “Are you there?”
I shook my head and sighed. “Go ahead...”
“Okay...” Milton handed me a folder. “Inside that folder, you’ll see that I’ve outlined your current assets, totaled your domestic and foreign bank accounts, and appraised the company’s future earnings. As you can clearly see, the future Mrs. Statham’s name is nowhere to be found because well...She did not contribute to you gaining any of these things so...”
“I thought this was a strategy meeting.” I rolled my eyes.
“It is. Angela informed me that you’ve cancelled all your appointments with the marital attorney as of this morning. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe you’re not thinking straight... Let me help you out: Your net worth as of this quarter is nine point eight billion. Your net worth. We live in California, a fifty-fifty split state.”
“Milton...”
“That means that if you should ever get a divorce, your-ex-wife will automatically be entitled to over four billion dollars. If you last for more than ten years and your earnings continue to grow like they have in the past, you’re looking at handing over seven to eight billion easily. Do you understand that?”
“I do.�
�
“Glad to hear that. I’ll arrange for the attorney to come back.”
“There’s not going to be a pre-nup, Milton.”
His jaw dropped. “I thought you just said you agreed with me.”
“There can’t be a pre-nup if I’m not getting married...”
“What?” He gasped. “You two were just here weeks ago telling me about the wedding venue...It’s over?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Jonathan?”
I sighed. “I’ll call you later tonight to go over that mistake in the master file you mentioned at this morning’s meeting. I have a feeling we’ll need more than one accounting team to sort that out.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but then he shook his head. He took his folder back and patted me on my shoulder before leaving my office.
As soon as the door closed, I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes.
I can’t believe this shit...What the fuck is Claire thinking?
I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions about the wedding, about marrying Claire, but invitation and cake bullshit aside—what she’d pulled last week had rocked me to my core.
At first, I didn’t want to believe that I’d seen her and Ryan inside of Starbucks when I drove by. I refused to believe it. So, I’d driven around the parking lot, telling myself that Claire—my Claire, would have called me the second Ryan showed up anywhere near her. Like she promised.
I’d decided that my eyes were playing tricks on me so I simply parked my car. With flowers in tow, I’d headed towards the Starbucks, but then I saw her again—with Ryan, pressed up against her car with her fucking leg around his waist, with her lips inches away from his mouth.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind...
I hadn’t been home in a week, and I had no plans to return any time soon. I was too damn angry to be anywhere near her.
When she’d broken up with me last year and went her separate way for three fucking months, I was livid. Infuriated. Inconsolable. But this recent stunt of hers was—there were no words for this shit.
What part of ‘I don’t share’ does she not understand? What part of ‘Call me ASAP if Ryan shows up’ is difficult to comprehend?
She’d been sending me numerous text messages to apologize, trying to explain her side of the story and beg me to come home, but I never answered. And I sent each and every one of her hourly calls directly to voicemail.
I didn’t want to talk to her right now. I didn’t want to talk to her ever.
“Mr. Statham?” Angela’s voice suddenly came over the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Miss Gracen is—”
“I’m not here.”
“Sir, she’s standing right outside your—”
“I’m. Not. Here.” I gritted my teeth. “Are we clear?”
“Yes sir...”
I waited for an hour, until I was sure Claire was gone, and then I stepped outside. I walked around the corner and stood at Angela’s desk. “Did my—” I stopped myself. I’d almost said my wife. “Did Miss Gracen leave another note?”
“Yes sir.” She handed me a folded sheet of white paper and I took it into my office.
I debated whether or not I should toss it into the trash with all her other ones, but I decided to open it:
Jonathan,
I know you’re very angry with me, but please give me a chance to explain what you saw last Friday...I’m sorry I ever allowed it to happen, and it’s not what you think. I promise.
I love you and only you, and I wish you would come back home...
Yours,
Claire
I crumpled her letter into a ball and tossed it into the trash. I took a deep breath and shook my head, trying to think about what I needed to do to get this off my mind.
I called Angela back.
“Yes, Mr. Statham?”
“Is the security team meeting still going on right now?”
“Yes sir.”
I sighed. “Write this down: I want last Monday’s interior and exterior security video footage from the Powell Avenue Starbucks—everything between the hours of four o’ clock pm to seven o’ clock pm. And I want audio. The very second that Corey gets out of his meeting, ask him to put his best team on it.”
“I will sir. Is that all?”
“No.” I balled my fists. “I want them to hack into Smith & Hayes Associates in Pittsburgh and get me Mr. Hayes’ full client list. I want the name of every client he worked with before he made partner, even the clients he worked for when he was a fucking intern. I also need a list of every single law firm in Pittsburgh—big, small, independent, commercial, every last one of them.”
“I’ll make sure it gets done. Um...Are you still sending flowers to Miss Gracen this week? The order has to be put in within the next half hour if you still want to send something.”
I was silent.
“Mr. Statham? Is that a yes or a no?”
I shut my eyes and tried to block out this past week. I’d never missed a day sending Claire flowers. Even when she was in Costa Rica, I’d called a local flower shop and made sure she woke up to a new set of blooms every morning.
Not sending them felt wrong—hurtful, and even though she’d damn near made me cry last Friday, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
I sighed. “It’s a yes, Angela...But no note—just the flowers...”
Chapter 14
Jonathan
“You don’t look too good.” Hayley slid a bottle of water across my desk. “And you barely spoke at this morning’s meeting. Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Are you living in your office now? I haven’t seen your car move all week and you didn’t come over with Claire for dinner last night...”
I didn’t answer.
She walked around to my side of the desk. “Look, I know it’s none of my business...”
“It isn’t. Did you break up with your secret boyfriend yet? I’ve noticed that your work has improved from terrible to average.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Mr. Statham?” Angela called over the intercom. “Corey’s here for your three o’clock meeting. Should I tell him your meeting with Hayley is running over?”
“No, we’re finished here.” I opened the water bottle. “Send him in.”
Hayley gave me a hug and smiled. “I didn’t spend six hours trying on bridesmaids’ dresses for nothing, Jonathan. You better talk to her and fix whatever it is. Claire loves you and you know it.”
“Goodbye, Hayley.”
“I love you, too.” She jumped up and headed for the door as Corey came in.
Then I looked up and saw it. Plain and clear. The way Hayley’s eyes lit up as he held the door open for her, the way he almost leaned down to kiss her goodbye, but held back and smiled instead.
What. The. Fuck.
I waited until he closed the door, until he took a seat at my desk directly in front of me.
“So...” He cleared his throat. “About the Meyer’s account. I was thinking we could investigate their background a little more before we fully commit. What do you think?”
“Are you fucking my little sister?”
“What? What are you—”
“It’s a yes or no question. Are. You. Fucking. My. Little. Sister?”
“I...It’s not like that.”
“Yes or no.”
He sighed. “No...Not—”
“Yet? You plan on fucking my little sister?”
“Johnathan, man...It’s not what you think it is.”
“For your sake I would hope not.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “When the fuck were you going to tell me about this shit?”
“I wanted to tell you weeks ago, but I knew how you would react to this...What I have with Hayley is nothing like what I’ve had with all those women in the past. And if you would just listen—”
I couldn’t hear anything he was saying.
The only thing I could focus on was breaking every single bone in his face, pushing him out the window, and watching him fall to an early death. I didn’t care how long this shit had been going on or why. He wasn’t worthy of Hayley as far as I was concerned—best friend or not; especially not the same best friend whose body count was more than quadruple mine.
“I would never hurt her,” he said. “I swear.”
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
“Don’t do this, man. Just—”
“I can only deal with so much bad shit at a time, so excuse me if I don’t want to talk to the man who is days away from fucking my little sister and hanging her heart out to dry. Just get the fuck out.” I turned around in my chair and waited until I heard the door close.
Is this shit really happening?
I picked up my phone and called Angela.
“Yes, Mr. Statham?”
“Did Miss Gracen send out a memo to every person in my life and tell them to make me as fucking miserable as possible this week?”
“Um... No, sir. Not that I—”
“Can you please check?”
“Yes, sir...Are you still meeting with the ring designer this afternoon?”
“No. Cancel that please.” I hung up. I’d called Miss Valenti yesterday to ask if Claire had ever stopped by to design my ring and—surprise, surprise, she hadn’t.
I knew I’d previously joked with her about not knowing who she was anymore when she revealed that she’d been taking erotic dance classes, and when I found her in that bondage room at her bachelorette party. But with our wedding falling apart at the seams and her ex-husband slipping into her life again, I could honestly say that I didn’t know who she was right now.
She wasn’t acting like the Claire I loved...
**
I rolled over in my bed, reaching for Claire—cursing at myself for even doing that. It’d been a week and a half since we’d last spoke and her phone calls to me still came every hour on the hour.
I was still staying in my executive suite at the office, collecting the notes she dropped off and actually reading the more recent ones. The one she’d sent yesterday read, “You are the only love of my life. Please hear me out—Claire.” And the one she’d sent today read, “I miss when you used to send notes with the flowers...That’s what made them special...”
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