by Tasha Fawkes
“No need to be a smartass. So, what's up?” Matt asks as he follows me into the living room.
I let out a growl. “Fucking Angela. She’s pissing me off. She thinks she can just come in here and ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
“Yeah, but that’s on grandfather, not her, right?” Matt tries to reason.
“You sound just like her,” I mutter. But his comment raises other issue that I haven’t even touched on yet. “I just don't get why he hated me so much,” I say, pacing the room. “He’s essentially set me up to fail. This task feels a thousand times more impossible than what you and Rex had to do.” I put my hand up to stop him from interrupting, because I know he’s going to. “I know, you got married and had a kid.” I grumble. “I get it, but this is literally tearing my life apart. There’s no silver lining for me.”
“You never know,” Matt says. “You and Angela might hook up.”
I glare at him for even joking about that.
“Unlikely. She fucking hates me. Apparently, our grandfather did too.”
“And you're surprised about that?” Matt said with a laugh. “He's doing it because he can, Nate. He hated you for not falling into his trap. I'm not surprised that this has come about, to be honest. I knew if there was going to be something that you had to do, it was going to be near impossible.”
I glance at Matt. “Really?”
He nods. “You made him feel stupid. He tried to turn you into a clone of him and he failed. I think you’re the only person, aside from Denton, who managed to do that to him.” He points out.
“Fine, I didn’t fit into his mold. But that makes me as bad as the man who ruined his marriage?” I frown, not sure if that said more about him or me.
Matt shrugs. “Probably. You were family. You should’ve been easy for him to mold, but Dad made sure that couldn’t happen. He wanted revenge against you and Dad, so what better way to do it than to destroy the legacy you created for him.” Matt sighs and looks at me. “Whatever way you look at it, this is last shot try and do to you what he never could. Control you.” He glances at his phone and makes a face.
“I better get home,” he mumbles. “Charlene needs help.”
I nod. “Thanks for coming around.”
“Are you feeling any better?” Matt asks as I walk him over to the door. I think about it for a second and then nod.
“Strangely, yes. I think I do.” I pause and try and figure out why. “I guess I understand things a bit better now, which makes it easier to accept that this is what grandfather had planned all along.”
He nods, like he understands.
“Anytime you need to talk, call me. Okay?” Just before he takes off down the hallway, he turns back around to face me. “Good luck convincing Angela. For what it’s worth, I know how much the center means to you. I really do hope things work out the way you want them to,” he says.
I smile because it means a lot to hear him say that.
Closing the door, I head down to my room. I toss my phone down on my night stand and then peel off my clothes. Yawning, I climb under the covers, only just then realizing how tired I am. I lean over to switch off the light, then I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling—or what I can make out of it. I hope tomorrow changes something, because if it doesn't, then I'm at a loss for what to do.
There is only so much more of this I can take.
Chapter 6
Angela
“Here we are, darlin’.”
I gaze out the window as the cab pulls into the parking lot of the Harris Community Center. My eyes widen, because it's huge. Much bigger than I imagined it would be. Not that it really means anything, other than the fact that they overspent when building the damn thing. Yes, Nate can definitely use my help. I still haven’t recovered from how rude and arrogant he was the previous day. I can’t believe I actually found him attractive. Or should that be find him attractive? I force those thoughts out of my head and go back to studying the exterior of the center.
Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting. A run down little shack, maybe? What’s in front of me is far nicer than anything my mind had conjured up. I’m actually embarrassed at how surprised I am. If that doesn’t show how much of a snob I am, then nothing will.
Obviously, I’m as judgmental and narrow minded as Nate seems to think I am...
I shake off the thought and pay the driver, I then climb out of the car and straighten up my skirt. I look around me as I walk over to the entrance. The run down houses and the bars on the shops opposite the center suggest the area isn’t the greatest, but it’s still a step above what I expected. It’s probably not somewhere I’d feel safe about walking alone around at night, but then again, didn’t everywhere feel that way these days? At least it did back home in New York.
I clutch onto my bag as I walk up to the front door, not because I’m worried about my safety or anything like that. I’m just nervous how I’m going to react when I go in there, so my bag is my security blanket. Something I can hide my shaking hands behind. The thing is, I have no idea what memories a place like this will stir up. Anything medical does it, but some more than others. The number of times I found myself in hospital, sometimes for weeks at a time…I shiver and push it from my mind.
I can’t think about that.
Not while I’m here. If I do, I’ll probably lose it.
I take a deep breath and walk inside. I glance around, surprised at what I’m seeing. There are so many people, waiting for care that they’re sitting on the floor, in the hallway. I’m not prepared for this, but I don’t have a choice.
I walk past mothers who are doing their best to comfort their sick children as they cry. Staff run everywhere, trying to help as many people as they can, but it’s obvious they’re overworked. There are so many people crammed into the tiny waiting room, that it makes me feel sick. It sucks how stretched the center is, but the worst bit is knowing without it, these people would be even worse off.
All of these people are waiting for healthcare and assistance programs that won’t be available to them if my recommendations are followed. That makes me feel like a monster. I swallow, my throat dry, as my eyes are drawn to a little girl. She’s crying, then I glance down at her leg and see why. It’s obviously broken and in need of assistance.
Where will she go if the center closes?
But I can’t think about that, can I? That shouldn’t even enter my head when it comes to making my recommendations. I don’t doubt the center is much needed and utilized, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s draining Nate and his foundation of any chance they have of surviving. Nate sees me as the enemy, but I’m not. I’m trying to help him, he’s just too pigheaded to see it.
Speaking of which, where the hell is he?
Before I can look around for Nate, a little boy throws his chubby little arms around my leg. He cries hysterically and while I stiffen and look around, not sure what to do. I don’t handle situations like this. I like control and knowing what’s going on. Only here, I don’t know anything, other than the fact that I’m seconds away from having a panic attack.
I need to get out of here.
Thankfully his mother steps forward and pries him off me, apologizing profusely in a voice so soft I can barely understand her. I give her a smile.
“It’s okay.” I assure her. I glance at her boy.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask.
“He’s had a fever for a week. I don’t know,” she says, nearly in tears. Her broken English makes me wonder if she’s here illegally. I frown, my heart pounding as the anxiety begins to overwhelm me. I’m about to turn around and run out of there when I see Nate.
Shit.
He smiles at me as he walks over.
“Hey. You came,” he said.
I nod and force a smile back. My heart pounds, because I feel trapped. I know I can't leave, at least I can’t without looking like I’m too weak to handle this. If I can’t handle being here,
then I can’t do my job. Nate will have every right to suggest that I shouldn’t be in the position to make decisions about the future of the center.
“I told you I’d come,” I say, forcing myself to sound upbeat.
“Great, then let me give you the tour.”
He motions for me to follow him.
We walk through the various parts of the center as he explains all of the programs they run. I’m only half listening as he talks. When he introduces me to people, I smile and nod, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you what their names were. All I can think about are these poor sick kids, who are waiting for treatment. They’ve probably been waiting for hours already. I know the changes that I need to implement are going to mean that people just like these ones are going to suffer more. Maybe even die. It isn't fair that he asked me to come here.
God, I don't know why I agreed.
What if my family hadn't had the money to pay for my treatment? Is my life more valuable than any of the lives here? How is that fair?
No. I can't think about that. I need to take the emotion out of it and just look at the numbers. That's what I’m being paid for. That's what my reputation reflects.
How credible would I be if I made every decision based on emotion?
My job is to advise what the numbers say, and anyone can see this place is sucking the life out of the foundation. There are huge overheads and no profit. It's that simple. It sucks money out of everything else and it has to go. There is no other choice. Cut throat decisions need to be made and I need to be the one to make them.
God, the whole foundation needs a complete overhaul if it’s going to survive. Scaling back on projects that don’t make money, and redirecting time and money into ones that do is the only way out of this mess. Staff will need to be cut back... I shake my head, because there are so many areas that need work and they’re all as important as each other. But, as I glance around, none of that matters, because without this center, people are going to suffer.
I’m so angry at the emotion I’m feeling. I didn't get where I am acting like this. I pride myself on my ability to switch off and just do what I need to do. This is the total opposite of the way I usually do things.
I turn around to see Nate crouching down to talk to a sick little boy. I close my eyes and force myself not to look at him, but it’s so hard when everything he does is so fucking sweet. He’d give anything to help these people. Now that I’m here, I can see that. And that makes me want to help, too.
Why does he have to be such a god dammed saint?
More than anything, I want these kids to get the care they need, and I definitely don’t want to be the reason they suffer, but if I give Nate what he needs to save this center, I’ll be jeopardizing my career in the process. I've built my entire life around my career. I've given up everything to get where I am, and I’m not sure I can walk away from all of that. I laugh, because I sound like such a selfish bitch. My career is more important than this?
I, of all people should see the problem with that statement.
“I'm sorry,” I mumble. My heart races. It’s all too much for me to take. My heart races and I start to heat up. I know I need to get out of here before I regret it. I can feel Nate’s eyes on me. When I glance at him, he’s frowning at me. He asks if I’m okay, but his voice sounds distant, like he’s a million miles away. I back away, feeling sick.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.” I lied. I glance at my phone just to make my next line more believable. “I’ve just had an emergency come through.”
I turn around and take off down the corridor, in the direction of the exit. My heart pounds as I push through the doors. I stumble on the step, nearly losing my balance, but I regain it at the last moment. I shake my head, sure that I just made a fool out of myself. If he didn’t think I was a joke before, he sure as hell will now. I hunch forward and struggle to catch my breath as the cool air hits my lungs. It burns, catching me off guard. Holy shit that hurts. Almost as much as the pounding in my head.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose more than just my career.
When I’ve got the energy to walk farther than a few blocks, I head home. I walk down the street, glancing back nervously every few steps to make sure Nate isn't following me. If he saw me like this, it wouldn't take much for him to break me. Every time I think about how badly I handled that whole situation, I cringe. Nate is probably laughing his way back to his office, confident he’s won. I clench my hands into fists, swinging them beside me as I walk. That was his plan all along, to make me think with my heart instead of my head. But he’s underestimated how tough I can be when I need to.
I let myself inside my apartment and then walk down to my bedroom. I throw myself down on the bed, determined to give my body a rest before it breaks down on me.
All I need now is to relapse.
It’s been years since the last one, but I’d also managed to mostly avoid stressful situations. Until now, at least. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of my heart pounding. I’m still so worked up, and I know it will be a while before I’m myself again.
I can still see the look in that little boy’s eyes as he clung to me. He was so scared. I rolled over and punched my pillow, angry at Nate and myself. It’s not fair. Pull yourself together. I listen to the voice in my head and breathe in deeply. I need to be impartial. I need to do this without emotion and weigh up the best course of action for the foundation. I can't get caught up in feelings and emotions. I admire Nate’s passion and the drive he has for the foundation, but what I said to him was true. Even without his grandfather’s Will, the way he’s going, he won’t have a foundation in a few months anyway.
I open my eyes and adjust to the darkness, taking a moment to remember where I am. It’s funny the number of times I wake up thinking I’m back in New York. I shift over, my neck aching from sleeping at an odd angle. I groan and reach onto the floor, fumbling for my phone. I finally grasp it and bring it up to my face. It's nearly nine o'clock in the evening, which meant I’d slept for four hours. As much as I probably needed it, I knew it was going to mess me up for sleep tonight.
I yawn and stand up, still exhausted as I stretch my arms out over my head. I wander into the kitchen to see what I can rustle up for dinner. The answer to that is not much, so I order a pizza instead. I sit on the couch while I wait for it to arrive and watch TV. I’m feeling much more like myself than I was earlier and convinced that I can do my job. I’m just tired and cranky about being away from home. Things like that always make me emotional. I just need to relax and look after myself and everything will be fine.
The pizza helps too. As I eat, I realize it’s the first proper meal I’d had in days—if you could call it that. After I’m done, I toss the box in the trash and then curl up in bed to do something I haven't done in a long time. I read a book. It’s the best way I can think of to destress and wind down.
I get half way through it before I feel tired enough that I think I’ll actually fall asleep again. Rolling over, I sigh and snuggle into my blankets an odd feeling of satisfaction filling me. If there is one thing I knew, it was that I didn’t give up. I kept pushing until I got what I wanted. I had to be like that with a father like mine. I had a moment when everything felt overwhelming, but I was okay now.
I’ve been through much more stressful situations than this and survived, so I know I can do whatever I need to, in order to get Nate and his foundation on track. He might hate me at first, but once he realizes how much my suggestions are going to benefit him, he’ll come around. I’m sure of it.
Chapter 7
Nate
I wait until the following day before I call her. The way she ran out of there like that…I got the feeling she didn’t want to talk. So I gave her space, in the hope that once she processed whatever the hell had happened, she’d also realize how needed the center is.
Her reaction certainly wasn't what I’d been expecting. I’d take it, but I expected much more of a fight. I just
wanted her to experience the center before she made up her mind, and it had worked. I knew she couldn’t go in there and still want to tear it apart. Still, I refuse to let myself get too excited over her reaction, because it might not have changed anything.
Pushing her into going there could have just as well backfired on me if she decided to come down even harder on the foundation. It’s so easy to forget what it was like once you’ve left. I’m worried that’s what will happen. Saving the center is going to be harder than her visiting for fifteen minutes, which means I still have no idea where this leaves us.
After lunch, I call her. Not only do I want to check that she’s okay, I also want to sit down and talk to her, without me acting like a spoiled five year old. I’m not sure what I plan to get out of that, but at the very least, I’ll know where I stand. I sit down at my desk and call her number. I was expecting to speak to a recorded message, so I’m surprised when she answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Nate,” I say. I’m already regretting calling her so soon after she left. “I just thought I’d call and see how you were after yesterday…”
My voice trails off. I sound like I’m calling her to gloat about the fact that I made her feel something. I sigh and rub my eyes.
“This is all coming out wrong. I was just worried about you and I think we should sit down and talk.”
“We tried that already, remember?” she mutters, her tone frosty. “And thanks for your concern, but I’m fine.”
“I’m glad,” I say honestly. “We don’t have to talk until you feel up to it—"
“I'm free now.” She cuts in.
“Great,” I say, rubbing my face. She sounds guarded and defensive. I already know this is just about making a point that earlier meant nothing. “There’s a café—”