The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

Prior to entering the building, Claire gave Harry the opportunity to avoid this meeting. She sent him a text message. After all, it was almost 1:30 AM. It said:

  “MINUTES AWAY. DO YOU STILL WANT ME TO COME BY?”

  His short reply appeared almost immediately:

  “YES.”

  It wasn’t possible to read emotion or attitude in a text message. Nevertheless, as Claire neared and her eyes met Harry’s, his unhappiness loomed omnipresent, surrounding them in a cloud of despondency. His hardened expression cooled her progress, almost stopping Claire in her tracks. Instead of summer skies, Claire saw ice in his light blue eyes. She searched for miniscule signs of acceptance. Instead, she found frost with his lips pressed together tightly in a straight line.

  As her glistening high heels propelled toward him, the scent of whisky filled her lungs.

  “Well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball?” he asked cynically. He gestured for Claire to enter.

  Initially, she planned on kissing him hello. Even with his bare feet and her shoes, he stood several inches taller than she. In order to contact his lips or cheek, she’d need to stand on the tips of her toes, or he’d need to bend down. The furrowing of his brow, as she neared, weakened her resolve. Claire looked pleadingly into his cold eyes, as she passed, entering his foyer.

  Throughout the entire car ride, Claire divided her time between reliving the evening’s confrontations with Tony and imagining her reunion with Harry. It was at least thirty minutes into the trip before she realized she and Eric had been driving in complete silence. It wasn’t as if they’d ever chatted, but in the past, their relationship was cordial. Nevertheless, when Claire recalled his persuasive behavior from earlier, she felt no desire for familiarity. Besides, her mind was too full of thoughts and memories; the outside world seemed temporarily irrelevant. It was when those thoughts incited tears that Claire asked Eric to turn on some music. Truly, it was an attempt to conceal her crying from Tony’s informant.

  Interestingly, Claire noted Eric never asked her where she lived. Perhaps more thought provokingly, she never questioned his knowledge. Music was their only topic of conversation. Eric’s only words during their entire drive were those in his reply, “Yes, ma’am, do you have a preference?”

  She shook her head to the eyes in the rearview mirror and turned again to the side window. The interior of the Mercedes filled with the sounds of Doc Severinsen and Louis Armstrong. Claire doubted the moisture on her cheeks and occasional ragged breath escaped Eric’s observation. Nevertheless, she took comfort in believing the jazz music muffled her involuntary sobs.

  In Claire’s likely scenarios for their reunion, she imagined Harry sad, hurt, or more optimistically, relieved that she’d made it back. She imagined his supportive embrace as she explained the events of the night. Not once during her hour long journey did she foresee anger. Why would she? In the three months she’s known Harry, she’d never witnessed him upset.

  Stepping into his entry, Claire saw and felt the aura of his fury. After dealing with Tony’s anger, she was now face-to-face with an obviously irate Harrison Baldwin. Her imagined scenarios paled in comparison. This was worse than she’d predicted.

  On the table near the sofa, Harry displayed the source of his discontentment. Laid out for her viewing pleasure were pages of information, multiple internet stories complete with photos featuring her and Anthony Rawlings.

  Shit, she thought, this stupid gala only happened five hours ago. How did all of this get out already?

  Claire walked silently to the table and scanned the headlines: Rawlings’ Reunited, Anthony Rawlings Asks for Privacy, Innocent? Anthony Rawlings’ New Claim. There were more, but she just couldn’t stomach to read each one. Each article contained pictures—one of them during the introductions, with Tony’s arm behind Claire’s back and them both smiling another photo was during the meal. He appeared to be smiling at something she was saying—a friendly conversation—there was another picture of them standing together, talking to another couple. The other couple was not identified. Claire read the caption:

  EVERYONE IS TALKING! The big news at this year’s National Center for Learning Disabilities Fundraising Gala, in San Francisco, is not the millions of dollars raised for a worthy charity. It is the reunification of Anthony Rawlings and Claire Nichols. Their unexpected inseparability during the festivities begs the question: is this merger only personal or will it include Shedis-tics and SiJo Gaming?

  As she put down the page, another photo caught her eye. It was one of them at the head table; Tony was kissing her hand. The look on her own face made Claire uneasy. The woman in the picture was staring into Tony’s eyes with a blushed radiance. Claire remembered; it was right after his speech.

  “Yeah, that one caught my attention too.” Harry’s emotionally-ladened voice returned Claire to present. “I’ve never seen that look in your eyes. May I commend you! You’re acting skills are amazing!”

  Tentatively, she looked up to Harry. His blue eyes cried out with unspoken angst. She laid the papers back on the table and struggled with her own emotions. Claire needed to feel understood. Instead, she felt challenged and fought the urge to launch her defenses. When she spoke, her voice sounded flat, “Do you want to hear what happened? Or, have you already made your own conclusions?”

  He stared in silence. Finally, shrugging his shoulders, Harry walked to the kitchen and returned with a partial bottle of Blue Label and an empty tumbler. Pouring himself two fingers of whiskey, he sat down in his recliner, gestured to the sofa, and replied, “By all means, make yourself comfortable and fill me in. I can’t wait to hear how this isn’t how it looks.” She sat. He took a drink of the amber liquor and added, “It never is, is it?”

  “I’ve never seen you drink—like this.”

  “I’ve had a shitty day. Would you like a glass? Or has your day been all parties and private drivers?”

  She saw herself in the mirror at Tony’s penthouse. How could he not see that she’d been crying? Claire could feel her swollen eyelids. Did he think she looked like someone who’d had a great day?

  “No, thank you.” She answered dryly. “Harry…” Claire began, then she stopped. Her head pounded with her internal debate. Was she mad, sad, defensive, or wounded? Abruptly, she stood and walked toward the door. “I can’t do this.” The tears resumed. Claire honestly wondered how she had any tears left. “I can’t do more confrontations.”

  Suddenly, Harry was out of the chair and standing before her. She looked up at his expression. Behind the anger, she saw hurt.

  She had been wrong. Hurt was worse than anger. The smell of whiskey burned her nostrils as his breath blew warmly toward her face. Her stomach clenched, but undeterred she strived to maintain the eye contact.

  Claire attempted to explain, “You deserve to hear everything, but know that I didn’t do anything without thinking of you and of Amber. I did it for you! But I can’t talk to you about it when you’re like this.”

  She reached for the door handle as his words cut into her heart, “Did you sleep with him?”

  Claire wanted to be angry, but then she remembered her dream—that wasn’t a dream and settled for offended. “I can’t believe you just asked me that. No! We didn’t sleep together tonight.”

  He seized her shoulders and stared down into her red, swollen eyes. “Why?”

  “Because, he blackmailed me! With you and with Amber and SiJo. He was responsible for the problems you had tonight at SiJo.”

  Harry interjected, “No, he wasn’t! We found the problem; it was internal. I tried to call you. Hell, I was on my way to San Francisco when Amber called me. She saw the news release, and after witnessing our moment in her living room, she thought I should know.”

  Claire’s stomach twisted. She desperately wanted to make Harry understand. “But he did know about it! He threatened to make your problems worse if I didn’t concede. He had that press release issued before I even spoke to him.”

  Harry released
her shoulders and stared incredulously. “I can’t fathom how you can continually believe he has that much power. Our computer engineers are top notch. Your ex-husband…” Harry struggled with his words, walked to his glass, took another drink, and continued. “…or should I say the man you’re working to reconcile with can’t just snap his fingers and bring down our firewall.”

  “Firewall! That was the word he used. He said it was incompetent, and I didn’t answer your calls because he took my phone.”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “Our firewall is secure. Our people had everything cleared and secure by 8:00 PM. I could have been there with you by 9:00 PM.” He took another drink and chuckled. “Now, that sure as hell would’ve been fun!”

  “You had it cleared by 8:00 PM?” she repeated dejectedly.

  “Yes, why?”

  Claire closed her eyes. She remembered Tony’s words: “The breach has been resolved. It has been since about 8:00 PM this evening.” It was clear, Harry wouldn’t believe her. She made her way to his sofa and collapsed. The night would never end.

  “I know I sound ridiculous, but don’t you see? Now, I’m trapped. He took my plans for public revelation and used them against me.”

  “How are you trapped?”

  The words flowed with welcomed release as she tried to explain. She told him about being summoned to the penthouse, the revelation of their supposed reconciliation, the gala, and their confrontations back in the penthouse. Admittedly, her recollection contained a few omissions. Specifically, she excluded the kiss and the disclosure about her dream. She explained to Harry that the news release was a public disclosure. According to public knowledge, she and Tony were now working on their relationship and that public failure wasn’t an option.

  His shocked expression renewed her stream of tears. After waiting for him to comment, she finally whispered, “You and I aren’t official. We haven’t even told Amber about us.”

  “So you’re ending this…” He waved his arm around. “…us… because of a news release?”

  “No! I don’t want us to end. For the time being, we’ll just keep it the way it was, under wraps.” She tried to smile. “You know, like they say: friends with benefits.”

  Harry contemplated her words. “So, I’m friends with benefits, whereas you’re going to be out in public with him?”

  “I have to talk to him about it. I’m supposed to meet with him tomorrow before he leaves for Iowa, but that’s my current concession, public only—no private.”

  “Well, obviously when it comes to Rawlings your negotiating skills are stellar! After your little meeting tomorrow, you’ll probably move back to Iowa. Hell, you won’t even need to pack your things. I’m sure he’ll gladly buy everything new,” Harry’s sarcasm-saturated words stung. Claire believed the pain from a physical slap would pass faster than the hurt she felt growing in her chest.

  Claire stood and turned toward the door; her dry tone resumed. “I’m going home.” She paused, still facing the door and asked, “Unless Amber no longer wants me?”

  “She didn’t say that. It’s your home. No one’s kicking you out.”

  Claire exhaled in relief. After a few steps, she turned back. “What about us?”

  His blue eyes paled as his broad shoulders sagged. “What us? We aren’t official. You see, I didn’t realize I needed to inform the Associated Press. Maybe you could devise a handbook?”

  She squared her shoulders and stared at him through swollen lids. “You are letting him win.” After a prolonged silence, she lowered her eyes and turned toward the door.

  As she stepped into the hall, she heard him say, “No, you forfeited…”

  Walking toward Amber’s condominium, Claire grasped the magnitude of Tony’s current victory. In one critical move, he completed a double attack. He exposed a weakness at SiJo Gaming. Even if Harry didn’t believe her, Claire knew Tony was responsible for their problems. If she hadn’t done as Tony asked, those problems would have become worse. It also proved he could do it again.

  Next, in a bold and critical move, he exposed their bogus relationship. While risking negative public opinion, he took control of the situation. He effectively removed any power Claire previously believed she possessed. As a bonus for forcing her moves, Tony damaged her relationship with Harry.

  While opening the door to her dark, quiet condominium, Claire wondered about Amber. How would she behave toward Claire tomorrow? Was Tony systematically removing her external support, in essence whittling away her chess pieces?

  Lying in her cool bed, Claire’s tired mind tried to regroup. Did she still have any power? Could she fight him? The questions and answers processed slower and slower as she tried to debate her options. Sleep overtook her consciousness. There was no doubt—to paraphrase a book her mother used to read to her as a child: it had been a terrible, horrible, very bad, and very long day. She couldn’t even rise triumphant over sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  You cannot make the same mistake twice. Because the second time you make it, it is not a mistake, it is a choice.

  —Unknown

  The incessant ringing of her alarm jolted Claire from her blissfully sound sleep. Her mind reeled with why she’d set an alarm. Rarely did she need to wake at a definite time. Besides, she didn’t get to bed until almost 3:00 AM the night before. As she sat up to turn off the noise, her stomach twisted, and she fell against the pillows. Closing her eyes, she willed the rapid onset of nausea to pass.

  The alarm continued to assault the silence of her normally peaceful room; nevertheless, Claire feared moving to stop the ringing. Perspiration beaded her entire body. Suddenly, her light silk nightgown moistened and plastered against her clammy skin. Slowly, she tried to remove the covers from her sweat drenched legs. Her focus increased with each movement. Claire prayed if she earnestly concentrated, then she could keep the contents of her stomach in check.

  Exhaling repeatedly, she stared at the bright ceiling. Mindlessly, she realized she’d forgotten to close the blinds the night before. Through the wrenching intestinal pain, her eyes squinted against the added assault of the unrestrained morning sunlight flooding her bedroom.

  Suddenly, Claire remembered the reason for an alarm. She was supposed to meet Tony at 10:00 AM. Could her impending meeting be the origin of her current illness? Perhaps even her body didn’t want to see him again.

  The knock at her door caused Claire to jump. The jolt intensified the nausea, propelling more beads of perspiration to adorn her skin. “Come in,” she managed as her face contorted in pain, and she concentrated once again on breathing.

  Claire didn’t turn her head to see her roommate enter. Nevertheless, she heard the door open and Amber’s footsteps approaching the alarm.

  “What the heck? It’s Saturday morning. Why do you have a damn alarm—?” As Amber turned from the now silenced clock, she beheld her roommate’s ashened, perspiration drenched complexion. Her tone mellowed, “Claire, what’s the matter?”

  Claire didn’t speak, but she gently shook her head from side to side. The movement was too much. Gathering strength, Claire reached for her blankets, threw them back, jumped from the bed, and ran to her bathroom.

  It had been a long time since Claire Nichols had been physically sick. The last time she remembered vomiting was when she learned of Simon’s death, which seemed ironic now that she was living in Amber’s home. The heaves came in waves.

  Amber stood, holding Claire’s long auburn hair away from her face as Claire rested her heavy head on trembling arms and waited for the next upsurge. When it came, Amber remained quiet while Claire’s body wracked with convulsions. Even after the contents of Claire’s stomach were gone, the heaving continued.

  In time, the lull between occurrences lengthened. Finally, her body stilled, leaving only a weakened and shivering Claire.

  Amber helped her roommate sit on the closed lavatory lid, wetted a washcloth with cool water, and handed it to Claire. Next, she directed her to wipe h
er face; then Amber helped Claire to the sink where she repeatedly rinsed her mouth with water. After Amber helped Claire back to bed, Claire closed her eyes and prayed that, whatever this was, it was over.

  “It could be food poisoning,” Amber offered after Claire’s color returned and her breathing normalized. “Maybe you ate something bad at the gala last night. I wonder if anyone else is having problems.”

  Feeling her strength returning, Claire nodded her head. “You’re probably right. With as bad as last night was, food poisoning would be a highlight.” She grasped the hand of the woman now sitting on the side of her bed. “Amber, we need to talk about last night.”

  Amber visibly bristled and regrouped. “We do.” Her tone was comforting not harsh, as it had been when she entered the room about the alarm. “But not right now. Can I get you something? Maybe some toast? It could help settle your stomach.”

  “What time is it?” Claire asked, panic threatening to disrupt her current non-vomiting state.

  “It’s a 7:45 AM. Why did you have that alarm set anyway?” Amber asked as she replaced the cloth on Claire’s forehead with a fresh cool compress.

  “I have to meet someone at 10:00 AM.”

  “Well, I think you’re rescheduling.”

  Closing her eyes, Claire assessed her current state, and she said, “I can’t.” She was truly feeling better. Hopefully, the offending food was gone. She wondered, could Tony possibly be sick too? A weak smile floated across her face. She responded, “I’ll take that toast, if you don’t mind.”

  Amber stood. “Sure thing. Do you need anything else?”

  “A glass of water, please.”

  Amber squeezed Claire’s hand and replied, “Coming right up.”

  Once she was gone, Claire reached for her phone. When she completed the task requiring movement successfully, Claire reassured herself that she was definitely feeling better and if the toast stayed down—she was good to go.

  Claire needed to text Tony a meeting location. She wondered where she wanted to meet him. Her first thought was nowhere, but she knew that was unacceptable; then she remembered a cute café in Redwood Shores. It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t Palo Alto. She Googled the café and forwarded the information to Tony, with a text: