“No, I guess not. I don’t think I know you at all.”
I try to walk past him, but again he stops me.
“Can I get through, please?” I say.
“You didn’t take everything.”
I look at him. I thought that he was just sending me home for a day. Maybe a few days.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that I want you to leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yes, please take all of your things. Otherwise, I can get Ms. Greaves to send them to you. But you’re not invited back here again.”
I shake my head. My heart feels like it’s about to stop.
“Am I fired?” I whisper.
We are still standing in the middle of the doorway. He’s so close to me I can hear him breathing. He takes a moment to answer. I want him to change his mind. But he doesn’t.
“Yes.” he nods. His eyes are firmly on mine. He means what he’s saying. He doesn’t want to take it back.
I feel tears welling up behind my eyes. But I can’t give him the satisfaction of hurting me. I hate this man. I love him at the same time. I thought I knew him, but now I realize that I don’t. He’s a mystery. An enigma. And now, he’s no longer my enigma.
I go back to my desk and gather a few things. I don’t have much here that belongs to me. I meant to bring in a plant last week, but I didn’t even do that. I grab all the pens and pencils, even though only three are mine. I take the eraser that I brought thinking that I could actually get some sketching done while I was here. I take the sketch board. Nothing else is mine. It’s embarrassing how little of an impact I’ve made on this place.
Suddenly, my mind goes to the woman who I’ve seen leaving the place when I still worked outside with Ms. Greaves. Oh, how nice and normal that time seemed to be. Now, I wish more than anything that I could go back to it. To return to that girl sitting at that big desk and tell her not to come here. Not take the job inside the big cube near Gatsby. Mr. Wild, whatever it is that I’m supposed to refer to him as. The woman who was escorted by the security guards was carrying a large box with all of her things. I’m leaving with nothing. Everything I have fits into my rather small purse. But I can’t bear to think about this any longer right now. I still have Gatsby to get through.
I turn to face him again. He’s still standing in the doorway. His eyes are steadfast now. Sparkling again. Is this making him happy? Is he completely different from the man I thought he was? Disappointment courses through my veins. I want to hit him. Punch him hard in his face. Shake him and demand to speak to Tristan, the kind, sweet guy I met in Yosemite. I can still see that man somewhere behind the façade, but I don’t dare raise a hand to him. I don’t want to be crying and panting and cursing when they eject me out of this place. I will leave with dignity and grace. He deserves neither, but it’s not for him.
“I really thought you were someone else,” I say to him when I get close.
“I’m sorry for you,” he mocks me.
“I’m not.” I shake my head. I don’t know where all of my strength is coming from, but it’s holding me up and making me say things that I never knew possible.
“And why’s that?”
“Because I found out the truth about you now rather than two weeks, two months, two years from now. You saved me a lot of heartache. And for that, I thank you.”
I can’t believe those words actually came out of my mouth! From the look on Gatsby’s face, he’s just as surprised as I am. His jaw even opens a bit.
“Close your mouth,” I say. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
34
Gatsby takes a beat. My patience is wearing thin. I don’t know why he’s blocking my exit if he’s so keen on kicking me out. I’m about to ask him to move when I feel him grab me. His hands dig into my shoulders, and his lips press hard against mine.
“What are you—” I manage to get out. But then he kisses me again. Without my consent, my tongue moves on its own and intertwines with his.
“Gatsby—” I push him away, but he comes at me. He presses his body against mine and buries his hands in my hair. We are kissing again. He pushes me against the wall. I want to push him off, but lust mixed with anger takes over. I kiss him back hard. Our kissing is frantic and out of control, mimicking the feelings that we are feeling for one another. I want to tear off his clothes. I want to put him in my mouth. But I resist the urge. Instead, I capture everything I feel about how much I hate him in my kiss. And then I push him away.
“Gatsby. No,” I say definitively and wipe my mouth.
It takes him a moment to collect himself. He smooths his suit, adjusts his tie, and runs his fingers through his hair.
“Yes, of course.” He nods.
“Can I get through, please?” I say. He’s standing in the doorway again, blocking me from leaving. I want him to drop to his knees and beg my forgiveness. I want him to ask me to stay. I want him to say he was sorry and to forget everything that he has just said to me. I want him to say that I’m not fired anymore.
But he doesn’t.
The kiss was just a kiss. Perhaps something of a good-bye kiss for both of us. The chemistry that binds us is undeniable. He knows it. I know it. But perhaps this chemistry is all we have.
Finally, he moves out of my way.
“Annabelle…” he says quietly while I wait for the elevator.
I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. Please forgive me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. You were right. I just couldn’t admit it. You’re not fired.
I wait for him to utter any one of those sentences. Or any other words that resemble those. But he says nothing.
“Yes?” I urge him. I give him another chance. His eyes shift back and forth, and I see him struggling to find the right thing to say.
“Good luck in finding another job,” he finally says.
I want to scream and run at him full force. I want to slap him so hard that it leaves a bright red welt across his perfect face. I want to punch him in the eye.
“You will, of course, receive comfortable severance to tide you over until your next place of employment,” he adds.
He’s making this unbearable. I can’t breathe. The elevator can’t come fast enough.
Ding. Ding.
The elevator doors open and I leap in. Tears are flowing down my face before the doors close again. Who is this asshole? Why did he have to kiss me again? Why am I such a fool?
I hate him. Hate him. Hate him.
I hate myself more. I’m weak. He has broken me. Or maybe I was broken all along. That’s why he was there for me. That’s why he had such a power over me.
* * *
I don’t know how I get home. But some time later, I walk into my bedroom and plop on the couch. I want time to stop. It seems like it’s speeding up. Maggie Mae isn’t home. Thank God. I can’t explain anything right now. I can’t talk. I can only sob, cry, and bury my head in my pillows.
Gatsby Tristan Wild.
He will be the hardest man to get over.
* * *
I’m not sure how much time passes, but it’s getting dark outside. Suddenly, I get an overwhelming urge to run. I look through my closet and toss out almost all of the clothes on the floor, but I still can’t find my jogging clothes. I haven’t used them in ages. Finally, at the bottom of my dresser, in the last drawer that I look, I find a sports bra, shorts, and an old USC shirt that I’ve used for jogging and hiking. This will do.
I drive to Runyon Canyon. There’s hardly any parking as always, but I’m lucky enough to find a spot right near the entrance.
People in Los Angeles call Runyon Canyon a park, but it’s really a giant, steep hill made of yellow dust and dirt that rises a thousand or so feet above the city. The trail leading to the top is crowded with hikers, runners, walkers, and their dogs. I haven’t been here for a long time and start out walking. As thoughts of Gatsby flood my mind, I speed up my pace. I start to wa
lk faster and faster to escape those thoughts.
He has hurt me. Again. I had forgiven him the first time. I had forgiven his lies and his deceit. But this time, there will be no forgiveness. Not that he was even offering me any. And that’s what I hate most about him. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just trying to help, and he has banished me, fired me, excluded me from his life for NOTHING. Absolutely nothing.
About half way up the hill, I realize that I am running. The more I think about Gatsby, the faster I run up the hill. I’m winded and out of breath, but something keeps me going. Something continues to fuel my climb and pushes me harder.
How dare he fire me? How dare he push me out of his life for trying to convince him to do what’s best for him? He is a spineless asshole who doesn’t deserve a second thought, but I can’t stop them from coming and taking over my body. I can’t think of anything but Gatsby. And the harder I try to run away from him, the more I think of him.
Finally, I make it to the top of the hill. From there, the expanse of Los Angeles fills the horizon all around. The view is breathtaking, but that’s not why I am out of breath. I’m sobbing so hard that I can hardly breathe. With all of my might, I try to take a full breath of air, but nothing comes in. And then, everything fades away to black.
35
I wake up in the emergency room with a handsome young doctor looking down on me.
“She’s awake,” he yells, turning away from me. “Maggie?”
I open my eyes and look around. The bright fluorescent lights blind me, and I put up my hand to block some of the glare. Suddenly, Maggie Mae appears. She stands over me with a wide smile on her face.
“Oh, my God, you’re finally awake,” she says, giving me a warm hug. Keeping her long arm wrapped around me, I see her give off a sigh of relief.
“I was so worried, sweetie,” she whispers.
“About what?” I manage to say. My voice cracks and the sound that comes out doesn’t sound at all like me.
“What’s going on?” I try again. This time, I sound more like me. I sit up in the bed. The first thing that pops into my head is that I have no way to pay for this bill, and it’s going to cost thousands.
“How long have I been here?” I ask.
“A while. Two days,” Maggie Mae says.
Two days! No, no, no. This is crazy. This can’t be right. I couldn’t have been here for two days!
“I have to get out of here,” I say and start moving to get out of the bed.
“You can’t leave quite yet, Ms. York,” the doctor replies.
“Annabelle, this is Elliot.” Maggie Mae smiles at me. Elliot? Didn’t they break up?
“Yes, that Elliot,” Maggie Mae adds as if she’s able to read my mind.
“I thought you broke up.”
“We did. But then we got back together.”
“How long have I been here?” I ask.
“Ha ha,” Maggie Mae says sarcastically. “Very funny. But two days is a long time.”
I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.
“I still have to go.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t. Not just yet.” Elliot puts his hand on my arm.
“You don’t understand. I just got fired. I don’t have insurance. And staying in the hospital for two days…that’s going to be, what, close to five thousand dollars? I can’t afford that.”
“Actually, if you’re not insured, it’ll be close to ten. But that doesn’t matter. You’re not well yet.”
“Of course it matters!” I brush his hand off my shoulder. He may mean well, but he doesn’t have to pay my bills.
“Annabelle, you can’t leave now. You just passed out in the park. On the top of Runyon Canyon. They had to airlift you out of there.”
Oh my God! I can’t hear this anymore. My mind goes blank.
Airlift.
“They airlifted me out of there? Like with a helicopter?”
“Yes, of course. You just passed out, and you wouldn’t come back.”
“Why didn’t they just leave me there?” I whisper. How was I ever going to pay for that? That was going to be thousands and thousands of dollars that I would never have. I was already saddled with debt for the rest of my life. And now, I was going to be saddled with debt for many lives to come. If there was such a thing!
“Are you insane?” Maggie Mae is talking to me. But only some of the words are coming through. I start to feel very dizzy again. The room starts to spin.
“They couldn’t just leave you there!” Maggie Mae adds.
“She’s going to pass out again!”
* * *
When I open my eyes again, I find myself in a large room with giant windows. The sun is shining, and no one is rushing around me. Soft classical music is playing in the background. The sheets are the softest I’ve ever touched. Egyptian cotton, has to be.
Sitting up in the bed, I notice that no more harsh fluorescent lights are blinding me. No annoying beeping noises. Come to think of it, this place doesn’t even look like a hospital. Is it a hospital?
I start to look around for signs of health and decay. No such luck. I look at my wrist and see a wristband with my name, age, and address on it. Yes, it’s a hospital.
A knock on the door startles me.
“Can I come in, Ms. York?”
The voice is familiar. But who does it belong to?
“Yes,” I say. My voice is frail and uncertain.
A handsome young man enters. I’ve seen him before. But where? Oh yes, of course!
“I’m Dr. Elliot Green.” He extends his hand. “I’m terribly sorry about before. That was all too much for you, and I should’ve predicted it. Too much stress and trauma.”
“What happened?”
“You don’t remember talking to Maggie Mae? Arguing about whether or not to stay at the hospital.”
Oh, yes! Everything comes flooding back to me. I have to get out of here. God knows how long I’ve been here this time. And this room looks much more expensive than the last!
“Before you start worrying again about the bill, I want to tell you that it has been covered. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s been covered. I shouldn’t be telling you this because we typically keep that kind of information private, but I don’t want you to try to leave again or worry about something you shouldn’t worry about.”
“Who covered it?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You have to tell me. Or I’m leaving.”
My voice is stronger this time. There’s power behind it, the strength of which surprises both Dr. Green and me.
“Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Maggie Mae knows, but that’s about it.”
I nod.
“You have to promise me out loud. I’m breaking the law here. If you tell anyone, I can get fired.”
“Okay, I promise.” I nod again.
“Gatsby Wild from Wild International is covering the bill. Maggie Mae told me that you know him. He’s your boss.”
I nod and then shake my head. “No, not anymore. He fired me.”
“Well, regardless. He came in a couple of days ago, after he found out what happened, and said to send him all of the bills. So you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
I shake my head. I can’t believe what he’s saying. This can’t be true. Why would Gatsby do this?
* * *
Twenty-four hours later, I’m finally released. Maggie Mae takes me home.
“No one knows what made you pass out,” Maggie Mae says in the car. “But Elliot suspects that you were severely dehydrated and stressed out.”
“That is one way of putting it,” I say. “Another way to put it is that I was heartbroken. Am heartbroken.”
“What possessed you to run up that hill like that, Annabelle? You haven’t worked out in so long. And you didn’t even bring any water with you.”
“I don’t know. I was just really sad. And I had all of these thoughts swirling inside of my head about everything that happened with Gatsby. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, I had to get away.”
Maggie Mae doesn’t say anything for awhile. She helps me up the stairs to our second-floor apartment. Then, right before we walk in, she turns to me.
“Okay, don’t get mad?” she asks. I wait for whatever she’s going to ask me that’s going to make me mad enough for her to say that.
“Promise? Okay, please promise?”
“I’m tired of promises,” I sigh.
“Okay. You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you? Because that would be really, really stupid, Annabelle. You are such a great person. I love you, lots of people love you. And I would never want to think that you would even consider doing that. Let alone over some guy.”
I start to laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, except that the one thing that didn’t occur to me through all of what was going on was trying to kill myself. “To answer your question, no. Of course not. I was just running. I had to run hard and fast, and I wanted to get away from everything.”
She nods and opens the door.
“You don’t know what happened, Maggie,” I say, sitting down on the couch. I want to explain everything to her. I don’t want her to think that I’m just some pathetic loser. There was a reason for everything that happened. Well, not everything.
“Yes, I do,” she nods.
“What?”
“Gatsby came by. After you were airlifted out of Runyon Canyon. Apparently, he heard about it on the news.”
“He came by?”
“Yes, he came by, and he told me everything. That’s when he offered to pay your bills.”
I stare at her. I don’t know what to think. When she says everything, does that mean everything about Atticus and their father? No, it couldn’t include that. But without that, none of this makes sense.
Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract Page 47