What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1)

by O. Y. Flemming

  Seconds later, there's another text.

  (Cruz) Attitude, do you? >:{

  Seriously, a man like Cruz should not be using angry faces, so I let him know.

  (Me) Never pegged you for an angry face user.

  (Cruz) You never pegged me at all...

  I'm done; that man can turn anything provocative.

  Just as I'm leaving the hotel from setting up Mr. Wilke's suite, the brunette woman from the coffee shop steps out of a taxi that has pulled up in front of the hotel. She’s dressed in a cream, fall pea coat. I wave as I store my belongings away. It looks as if she has on a dress because the coat flows naturally with her figure.

  She looks at me as if she knows me. I’m in my big-faced sunglasses with my collar up. Although I’m known here, I would like to stay a little mysterious to those who don’t. I remove my glasses as she walks my way.

  “Hi, so we meet again?” she speaks first.

  “Robbinsdale isn't that big, so it's bound to happen.” I shrug.

  “You’re staying here?”

  “No,” I respond. “It’s work related.”

  “Oh... okay,” she says with an assumed look of shock on her face.

  “No! No! God, No,” I say, laughing. She starts to laugh. “For my boss's meetings for the month,” I lie a little. “I keep trying to convince him to move our office where he can have a larger conference room. He likes this place, so here I am.”

  “Oh, okay, I understand. Well, I have a meeting myself.” She extends her hand. “Bria?”

  “Right.”

  “Bria, nice seeing you again.”

  “Absolutely, fewer items this time,” I reply.

  She laughs. “See you around.”

  “Sure thing,” I say.

  Getting in my car, I check my mirrors before pushing the start button. I move my glasses to the top of my head. I don’t really like driving with them on unless the sun is blaring. I notice that the brunette whose name I remember is Shanna has stopped in the entrance of the hotel. I'm not sure why I have a habit of watching people from my mirror. Just one of the weird things Bryant teases me about. Just like that, my thoughts revert to Bryant. I'm pulling away from the hotel, there's a call of my name I can't distinguish. I check my mirror and I see Shanna waving to get my attention. I slow down while she powerwalks to my car.

  “Hi, I'm sorry. I'm not from here and you seem like a nice lady. I was wondering what is there to do for fun around here? I was thinking we could go out and you could show me a thing or two.” She gestures with her hands. I give her a questionable look. “What?” she says.

  I know my hair is short and I've been told I am gorgeous by both genders, but this is too much.

  “No! Oh, God no!” She mocks my earlier response. “I'm not a lesbian if that’s what you're thinking.”

  “Whew,” I sighed. “I was officially growing my hair back.” We both laugh.

  “Sure, Shanna, is it?”

  “Yes, Shanna,” she repeats.

  “Give me your number; some of my office colleagues are getting together on Saturday for drinks and dancing. You're more than welcomed to join us.”

  “Oh, thank you! That would be awesome. I can't wait.” She hands me her business card and I reciprocate.

  “I'll call you tomorrow to let you know where we are meeting on Saturday.”

  “Okay, I'll talk to you later, can’t wait.”

  “Absolutely,” I say, pulling off into traffic toward the freeway.

  I get to the hospital in less than twenty minutes. Bryant should have been put into a room, so I make my way to the reception desk. “Hi, can you tell me what room Bryant Morgan has been moved to?”

  “Hello,” the receptionist says cheerfully. “Bryant Morgan, let me check… Um, he's signed out.”

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  “He signed himself out… looks like this morning.”

  “Oh, wow.” I look at my watch; it's 7:27 p.m. He hasn't contacted me all day. I look up from staring at my watch and Cruz walks through the lobby doors. He smiles a very vibrant smile; he's changed out of his suit into some very becoming slacks, a white collared button-up shirt, and a waistcoat. I eye him up and down as he steps in front of me. He looks fucking delicious standing here.

  “Hi.” He smiles.

  “Hey, um Bryant was released this morning.” He frowns as if he's as confused as I am. “Wow.”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “He didn't even contact me,” he says, looking down at his phone.

  “Me either. Where do you think he's gone? Oh, God! He's probably lawyered up for that bitch,” I scoff. Cruz nods his head in agreement.

  “Bria, we can't stop him from helping her.”

  “Well, I’ll no longer help him. He can't ask me nor can he make me. Fuck him, I'm done.” Cruz shakes his head as I begin to walk past him to leave the hospital. Cruz is behind me, I can tell he's moving in my direction.

  “Bria,” he calls out to me. I'm several feet away from him, not halting my stride to the parking garage elevators. I push the elevator button and wait. I can hear Cruz getting closer.

  “Bria,” he says in a low tone, as he stands behind me.

  “What, Cruz?” I say sternly and with annoyance as I turn to face him.

  He has a look of uncertainty on his face. “Technically, you're bailing on me and you're bailing on your boss too.”

  “Is that what you're concerned about?”

  “Bria, I can't…”

  “You can't what? Huh? I can’t hear you, because what it sounds like is… You can't afford to lose this deal, Cruz? Is that what has you sticking around? Yeah, trust me… I already know,” I say as I smack the elevator button impatiently, the door open slowly. He steps closer right before the elevator closes. I take a step back. He steps into the doorway and holds the doors open.

  “I can't let you walk away from this deal.”

  “Right…” I cock my head to the side. “Now let the doors go.” I push the close door button to activate the doors. Cruz takes a step back and the doors close… Just like my heart.

  * * *

  I awake to loud thudding at my door. I know before I even get to the door it’s Bryant. “Who is it?”

  “You know damn well who it is, Bree.”

  “No, Bryant, I won't.” THUD! THUD! THUD!

  “Open the door, Bria,” he shouts.

  “Bryant, go away. I can't do this with you anymore.” I can tell he's losing his patience. His voice sounds frustrated.

  “If you don't open this fucking door, I'm going to knock it off its hinges.”

  Who the hell is he? The angry wolf? I'm not scared of Bryant; but lately he's been surprising me with his actions, so I'm not sure what to expect.

  “Bryant, listen please. I can't do this with you anymore. I can't sit and watch Cass hurt you again. I know you went to bail her out of jail.” THUD! THUD! THUD!

  “Open the goddamn door! You fuckin' changed the locks on me?”

  “Bryant,” I yell. “Stop. Just go away.” I can hear my phone in my bedroom. I jog to my bedside table and it's Bryant. I tap answer.

  “Bryant.”

  “Bree, please open the door. Please, I'll calm down. Just let me in.” He's pleading and almost inaudible. I feel a lump in my throat; my best friend needs me. I'm always there to pick up his pieces. His breakups, his many company venture fails. I'm his comforter; but this, I can't do again. Bryant has recovered tremendously from his breakup with Cassie. It almost ended him. Because of my forgetfulness, I left my laptop at Bryant's one night. It forced me to take a trip to his apartment on my way to class one morning. After twenty minutes of ringing the bell outside, Bryant’s neighbor, who was leaving for work, finally let me in. He informed me that Bryant had come in last night and hadn't left yet. Their places are extremely close, and the walls are very thin. He said the music to a video game was playing all night. He figured he fell asleep playing.

  Well, that wasn't the c
ase; I knocked and called his cell phone, which I heard ringing forever before I contacted the building manager. I convinced him I was Bryant's relative from the campus and needed to wake him for a final. When we entered his apartment, my life, as I knew it back then, changed. It was and still is the reason I won't get into a serious relationship. I'm fine with companionship and sex-sessions. Love is the shit that has multiple effects. It plays with your mind, bruises your heart, and leaves you in a constant self-conscious, grief-stricken state.

  We found Bryant on his couch with not one, but two empty bottles of acetaminophens and a half-finished bottle of Jack Daniels. I called nine-one-one straight away. Turned out, he was drunk out of his mind before he had cracked open the second bottle, the contents of which he had dropped and I failed to see in the couch cushions. The doctors said he was lucky I got to him when I did. Another fifteen minutes or so and all of his vital organs would have begun to shut down. Seeing him in the hospital last night took me back to that first night. I had watched the EMT's work on him on the way to the hospital. I can't watch her kill him.

  Phone in hand, I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat so I can speak.

  “I can't, Bryant. I just can't,” I say softly over the phone.

  “Why?” he questions.

  “I told you, I can't see you hurt by her anymore.”

  “Bree, I didn't go bail her out.”

  “Don't lie to me, Bryant.”

  “Bria, I didn't. I fuckin' swear to you, I didn't… I went to see her,” he whispers.

  “I knew it! GOOD FUCKING BYE!”

  “BREE,” he yells through my door because the phone call has ended.

  “Go away, Bryant. I'm done!” My phone rings again and I tap answer without looking at it because I know it’s Bryant.

  “WHAT?”

  “Hel-lo...” I hear Cruz's voice on the other end. I sigh. “That's how you answer all your calls?”

  I sigh again. “No, I… I'm sorry.”

  “Bria?” He goes silent on the other end.

  “Yes, Cruz?”

  “What's going on over there?” He must sense my attitude. “Nothing, Cruz…” THUD! THUD! THUD!

  “Open the fuckin' door, Bria.” I know Cruz hears Bryant in the background.

  “Bria, is that Bryant?”

  “Yes,” I sigh again. “I wish he would leave. I’m going to need to get dressed and leave for work soon.”

  “I'm on my way. DO NOT open the door. His body is going through withdrawals; he's in a stage where his body is battling his mind. It's mood altering.”

  “Cruz, Bryant won't hurt me.”

  “Bria, don't open the door. Call the police,” he says in a low tone. The line goes dead. I'm not calling the police on Bryant. I can't.

  “Bria… please, I need to talk to you. Only talk, that's all.”

  I go to my front door. I put my forehead against the door. “Bryant,” I whisper.

  “Bree, I can't do this without you. I need my best friend.”

  My heart has officially stopped. My eyes begin to tear up and they won’t stop. I want to open the door. I want to comfort my best friend. I want to transfer all of his pain into happiness. I want to open this door and just hold him, let him know everything will be fine. I raise my hand to unlock the newly installed locks.

  “Hey, man, what's going on?” I hear Cruz's voice.

  “Cruz, man, this doesn't concern you.”

  “Oh, I think it does,” Cruz informs Bryant. I can hear the both of them getting annoyed by the second.

  “Cruz, what the fuck?”

  “Bryant, I'm not here to fight you or argue.”

  “Then why are you here, Cruz,” Bryant yells.

  “Bryant?” Cruz says calmly. “Have you taken anything today?”

  “What?” Bryant yells.

  “Have you taken anything?”

  “No, I'm not addicted.”

  Cruz is still calmly speaking to Bryant. Bryant on the other hand is not.

  “Bryant, I didn't say you are addicted to anything. I just asked have you taken anything today.”

  “No.” He’s speaking calmly now. “Cruz, I can't function.”

  “I know,” Cruz says. “Did the hospital give you anything before you were released?”

  “No, I haven't had anything since that night. It's like—”

  “It's still in you,” Cruz interrupts. I peek through my window blinds. Cruz is facing the window while Bryant's back is to me. I can see concern in Cruz's face.

  “She won't let me in, man. I fucked up.”

  “No, she's not going to let you in.” Bryant’s shoulders drop.

  “I've never hurt her this bad, man. Usually, I tell her I need her and we’re enjoying movies by now.” Cruz sees me through the window but makes no gestures to give me away.

  “I think I scared her, Cruz.”

  “Bria?” he scoffs and chuckles.

  “Yeah, you're right; she's probably in her room with her Louisville Slugger.” They both laugh.

  Um… I am not the butt of their jokes.

  “I'll probably need to give her a day or two.”

  “Yeah, I think that's advisable,” Cruz agrees.

  I can see the two of them walking toward their vehicles. Bryant looks back at the house. I can see Cruz saying something to him. They both get into their cars. Cruz U-turns and Bryant drives off. Whew! My phone rings immediately.

  “Hello.”

  “What would you have done if I didn't call you or show up?”

  I'm silent.

  “Bria?”

  “I don't know,” I softly say.

  “Would you have let him in?”

  “No…”

  “Yes, you would have, if I hadn’t shown up when I did. You would have opened the door. He said it himself.” He, being Bryant. Cruz is speaking to me in a chastising tone. I would have; he needed me. That's what I would have told myself to justify opening the door.

  “I don't want to imagine, Bria, what would have happened if you had let him in.” The line goes silent. I can hear Cruz breathing. It sounds as if he's nervous. “Bria?” He quietly calls my name.

  “Yes, Cruz?”

  “Would you have let him in? Again.”

  I don't think Cruz and I are on the same page. Our definitions of letting Bryant in differ. I'm silent.

  “Bria, answer me.”

  “I-I don't know.” He lets out a harsh breath or maybe it was a growl. We say nothing for minutes.

  He finally breaks the silence. “I have to meet with Mr. Wilke today; do you mind if I work from your office again?”

  “No, I don't mind. I'll be out of the office for a bit today anyway,” I say quietly, because the tension over the phone is obvious.

  “Oh, okay, I'll be there in a few.”

  “Okay… Cruz?” I call out to him before we end our call. “Thanks… you know, for handling Bryant without you know... kicking his ass.” He chuckles. I can almost picture him smiling.

  “It’s cool, honey, it was either that or unleash ‘the Bree’ on him.” He laughs a little more. “He did not want to get what that Cass girl got.” He's laughing fully now.

  “Cruz, that's mean.”

  “You're right, Bria, it is; but when was it determined I was nice in anyway?”

  Touché.

  * * *

  Friday has been a blur. I’ve analyzed, sent bids, and written proposals. I even went out for lunch with my inconspicuous sunglasses on and set up a suite for one of my new clients. It’s noticeable how big these damn sunglasses are. None of that compares to twelve vases of a dozen roses in my office when I return. After a search for a card, it's just as I suspected. They’re all from Bryant. I shake my head.

  “Whoa,” I hear from behind me.

  “Hey, Lisa, haven't seen you all day.”

  “It's been a busy day, lady, with you in and out. Proposal after proposal, you made it busy for me, Bria. Thank you.” We laugh because we both know the
busier we are the bigger our profits. We don't mind that at all.

  “So who’s in the dog house?”

  I look at her suspiciously.

  “Oh c'mon, Bria, Bryant or Mr. Debonair?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, I saw how Cruz was with you yesterday. Despite Bryant's and my drunken kiss, he has a thing for you too. So please spare me the ‘what are you talking about’ act.”

  I hang my head in shame. “Bryant,” I say as I hand her the card.

  “Shit, what did he do?”

  I shake my head. “I'll tell you later. Speaking of later, where are we going tomorrow?” I ask Lisa. She's getting excited.

  She claps. “We are V.I.P. at Aqua.”

  “Very nice,” I say. “How many on the list?”

  “Well, four, but Bryant's not coming, right?” she inquires.

  “Right, but I invited someone.”

  “Ooh, a man?” Lisa woos.

  “No.” I frown at her. “It's a nice lady I met. She’s new in town. She doesn't know anyone so I invited her out.”

  Lisa shrugs. “The more the merrier.”

  “Sweet.”

  She has this look on her face and I know what's coming. “Bria, when are you going to find someone for you? Or when will you let someone find you?”

  “Lisa… Listen… Listen… Listen.” Hearing myself, I sound like that three-year-old kid who has gone viral on social media trying to explain to his mother why he had to eat the cookies. I chuckle. “Life’s biggest disappointments are people. I can’t help but think that everything that is done by people”—waving my hands in the air psycho-babbling—“will eventually end in disappointment.” I shrug. “I’m over it and accepted it and moooved on.”

  Lisa shakes her head. “Okay, Bria, but at some point in your life, you will want that someone. Not just a hard one every once in a while.”

  I scowl at her. “Oh, like you, Lisa?” I ask her with a sour face.

  “Okay, I may not have anyone, but I'm not shutting people down.”

  “I'm not shutting people down, Lisa. I'm not ready to give that part to anyone yet.”

  “Fine, Bria, but when you're ready, I'll help.”

  “I don't need help, Lisa.”

  “Yeah, you do. You haven't been on a date in so long a refresher course wouldn't hurt,” she says with a sad face. I laugh because it's true. Having sex-sessions and dinner-movies with your bestie eliminates the true dating mechanisms.