by Maxine Storm
"No, Michelle," Brent said. "I didn't mean it that way. You know I enjoyed all that time with you."
"But you missed your meetings," I said.
"Yes."
"Right, so sorry for screwing things up for you, for the big CEO."
"Forget the meetings," Brent said, holding my hand. "I was just talking to myself. Talking nonsense. It wasn't directed at you."
I pulled my hand away from him and shifted in my seat.
"It's OK," I said, curtly. "I get it. You don't have to tell me."
We sat separately and silently as the car continued to drive, oblivious to rift again taking hold between us.
"Michelle," Brent started, after minutes of silence.
"Don't," I replied, shortly. "Don't bother."
***
Finally we reached the hotel. Brent's driver opened my door and I sharply took a step outside. I just had to get outside and away. I needed space for myself. I felt the anxiety that I thought I had given myself room from back in the forest returning with a vengeance. The doubts I thought I had put away crept back in and were taking hold. I took off walking back to the hotel.
"Michelle, where are you going?" Brent called after me. "Let's talk."
"No," I said, not breaking my stride. "I don't want to waste anymore of your precious time," I said. "Sorry for screwing with your plans. Sorry for not being smart enough to understand all of that beforehand."
I heard Brent call after me again but my mind was just focused on getting inside, getting away, and getting to my own hiding place for myself and myself alone.
Chapter 18 - Brent
I was standing in front of my mirror, changing my clothes for the meeting, and wondering what had gone wrong between Michelle and me.
Everything seemed to have been going so well.
Actually, that's perhaps an overly optimistic interpretation of all that happened.
Rather, things had gone as well as they could between us considering we survived a plane crash, tropical storm, and the visitation of deep emotions we've tried to bury within ourselves for years.
I thought back to us in the limo. I couldn't help it that I thought about what was next to do for my business. I've always had to go it alone when it came to strategic thinking like that. I mean, other than from bouncing ideas off Marsha. But I knew in the end I always had to remain focused. Turning to the business meetings I had planned for the day was just a natural reflex. Or maybe it wasn't so much natural, as it was conditioned.
I had been long conditioned to neglect my heart and my real love life. I don't mean just going out with whichever beautiful woman from the upper crust who feigned interest in me.
No, the real love life. The part of life I had forgotten, or tried to forget, because it was too painful, too risky to consider. In love, the guarantee was always uncertain and unpredictable. I couldn't strategize my way out of it, like I could in business.
The difference was so clear when I was with Michelle. She was so smart, so clever, all so effortlessly, and she kept me on my toes, not out of a sense of being annoying, but because she was real. I had to respond to her like a real person, a real man, instead of acting out a strategic business script I had practically memorized and could recite in my sleep. Hell, I was basically going through the lines for the meeting I had scheduled an hour later as I adjusted my tie in front of the mirror.
Lines about the health about the business. Lines about my own pride in it. My confidence we'll hit next season's goals easily. Lines lines lines.
They were all true. Business was booming, better than I could have ever imagined, better than my father - the man who never believed in what I did, or who I loved - could ever have admitted.
And yet I could feel my enthusiasm for it waning. I didn't want to be in this stage play any longer. But to jump off the stage, to her, to something new I've never really countenanced? Damn it. Why did she have to tear me up like this.
I imagined Michelle standing behind me and adjusting my tie. Her soft hands gliding off the silk, and unbuttoning my shirt, one by one. Her hand over my pecs, feeling the warmth of my bare skin, and then moving to my abs, dragging her fingers longingly over each ridge of muscle until she slipped one under my waistband and played with me teasingly.
I looked down - fuck, I was so hard just from imagining her. I picked up my phone on the counter and scrolled to her name and number. I wanted to press the dial, to tell her I fucked up, and that I needed her, right now, but I couldn't, I just couldn't. Somewhere inside of me, I worried I blew it with her and that now I didn't deserve her in my life. That I had lost my chance with her, and there was no getting it back.
I slammed my fist on the counter and the mirror shook. Fuck! Why did she have this effect on me. I couldn't resist it no matter how I tried.
I looked at the clock again and knew I had to get moving and prepared. I shouldn't have done it, but I took some gulps of an open bottle of whisky left on the counter. She was taking up every space available in my head and I knew I'd totally bungle the meeting if I couldn't focus.
***
"And that's the vision we have planned," I said, getting to the last slide in my presentation. "Bringing luxury travel at an affordable cost to the masses. Make travel hassle-free and enjoyable, while maintaining its dignity and magic."
I looked around the boardroom and saw they were glued to my every word. I was nervous in the beginning - and I'm never nervous giving presentations like this, haven't been for year. But only because when I walked in, I imagined Michelle's face on everyone sitting before me. Luckily, the alcohol hit my system and I was able to give my mind a good shake and deliver the presentation successfully.
The other executives clapped. I fielded a few questions. How we would do the marketing, the app, working with the regulations. It was all set out beforehand. I and my team knew we had the plan laid out as well as it could be. It was just a matter of executing it. I shook some hands as the presentation finally finished but could only think of Michelle.
Marsha came up to me and patted me on the back.
"It was wonderful, Brent," she said, smiling.
"Yeah," I said, half-heartedly.
"You didn't think so?" she asked.
"It was good," I said. "But..." I trailed.
"I can tell your mind is somewhere else," she said, with an encouraging smile.
"You know me too well, Marsha."
"Michelle?" she asked.
I nodded.
"She's all I can think of right now," I confessed.
"You go ahead and find her," she said. "I'll handle any extra questions from the execs. Your presentation and plan are impeccable. I'll basically just repeating what you said."
"You don't have to do that," I said.
"Please, Brent," Marsha said. "Let me help you out. I'm here to help. I never forgot that. Right now, Michelle is more important than this. This is basically in the bag now, thanks to you."
I smiled. Marsha was right. I had trained her for moments like this, and she was more than capable of informing and entertaining the execs.
"Alright," I said. "You call me if anything comes up, though."
"Of course," she said, holding my hand and guiding me to the door. "I'll update you on what happens after."
I held Marsha's hand for a moment and headed to the elevator.
As much as I nailed the presentation, I wanted to get to the real business. The real matter that concerned me and kept me alive. Michelle.
Chapter 19 - Michelle
I didn't like that I was tearing up. I didn't like it at all. I took a towel and patted my eyes dry, but found myself having to do it again and again, until I just threw the towel on the ground in frustration.
It was my own fault for thinking Brent and I could have rekindled things. Brent only looked like he changed. But in the end, I didn't fit in his heart as much as I didn't fit in with the clientele of this hotel.
My mom was right. Men didn't care, and they never did
. I felt so guilty now.
In the moment with Brent in the forest, it was incredible, I had to admit. I never felt that kind of connection before with anyone. When Melvin Small and I were intimate, it was...Well, you couldn't even call it intimate. We were alone sure, and naked. But it wasn't intimate. There was no soul there, no connection, no heat, no passion. The first minute making love with Brent was more intense than my entire 'love life' with Small. I don't want to exaggerate but it's like Small had not present at all, and I wasn't either. Hell, I'm not even sure if my body had been there. That's how disconnected I was. It's just like a bad dream I'm unable to affirm the reality of when I recall the past.
But with Brent, that was all out the window. When he was on top of me, when he was inside of me, grinding his thick cock, taking every inch of me like it was his - it was incomparable. I found myself getting wet just as the thought of it, and I didn't know what to think that he had that power and ability to make me feel like that, even when we were apart. Even when I was pissed at him and didn't want to see his face.
He really fucked up with the business meetings. I was really hoping to spend time together after all we went through in the forest. I wanted to be able to sit with him on the beach and just sunbathe, drink cocktails, and cuddle. Something nice and relaxing with him.
Instead, once he gets in the limo, it's back to business, like I don't even exist. It's like I had just been some distraction or excursion like the many trips he had gone on, but now that was over and he had to resume his work. Well, fuck that.
I felt like withdrawing into myself. The anxiety was returning around me like a suffocating cloud and I felt I had nowhere to I could go to escape it. It was like a prison that followed me around no matter where I went.
I had to numb my mind. It was hurting too much to think I fell for Brent and then fell right on my face.
I called a cab to pick me up in front of the hotel. I had to get out and lose myself in the crowd. It was hurting too much and think about myself - and by unavoidable consequence, think about Brent.
I called my friend Emily. We had gone to school together with Brent. We kept in touch through social media, but we haven't really seen each other in a while. But I needed to vent to someone right now or I'd really lose my mind.
Emily said to meet up at this club downtown and I reluctantly agreed. I don't even like clubbing. There are too many annoying people and I prefer quite gatherings with a few friends. But I didn't have a choice. Emily wanted to go out tonight and I didn't know anyone else I could talk to.
***
I took the elevator down and waited for my cab. I was fiddling with my phone to the pass the time when I heard someone call me.
"Michelle," the gentle voice said.
I turned around and saw Marsha walking with a briefcase.
"Oh, hi, Marsha," I said.
"How is your day going?" she asked.
"It's OK," I said, curtly.
"Where are you going?"
"To some club," I said, not looking at her. "The Boulevard." All I saw were the cars passing by, picking up and dropping off people who were always dressed expensively.
"I didn't take you for the clubbing type," Marsha said.
I looked at her and she was smiling very faintly.
"I'm not," I conceded. "But I have to get out a bit."
Marsha stood closer to me.
"Guy troubles?" she said with a wink.
I couldn't help but smile at her remark.
I knew she was close to Brent. They were almost like mother and son.
"Yup," I said, with a slight grin.
"Sometimes men can be a little boneheaded," she said, tapping my arm. "But they'll come around. You just have to be a little patient with them. They can't all be as smart as us women."
I giggled at her candor. I wanted to stay and talk with Marsha. But I didn't feel like I could tell her everything, considering how close she was with Brent. I found myself wanting to tell her things because I knew she was the nurturing, good listening type. But I had already told Emily I was going to meet up with her. And as if on cue, my cab arrived.
"Well," I said, "I have to get going. It was nice chatting."
"You take care," Marsha said, smiling. "We should talk some more soon."
I smiled back and stepped to the cab. As we drove away, I wondered how it nice it would be to have a supportive person like Marsha around me and -
Me and Brent?
No, I had to give myself space from that thought. Marsha was a real wonderful and old-soul. But I couldn't have a full to heart to heart with her at that moment.
***
The cab was taking me slowly into the clubbing district - the road was packed with other people heading down to get drunk and schmooze with other socialites. I already felt like going back but the whole street was bumper to bumper. I had no choice but to keep on going.
Finally the cab reached the entrance of the club and I got out. The music was pumping into the ground and my feet shook with every drum beat and vibration. I texted Emily that I was here.
I shuffled away from a crowd of drunks who were smoking, and wondered why I was even here. Luckily I saw Emily pop through the door and gave me a wave.
She grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me into the entrance.
"She's with me," she said, bumping the doorman.
My ears were immediately assaulted by the pounding music. I couldn't even make out what it was. It was just beats, monotonously being banged out.
"Don't you like this music?" Emily gushed. "It's DJ Squeelo. He's the hottest DJ in the city."
"Wow," I said, but I was certain the sarcasm wasn't carrying over the music. "It's great."
Emily dragged me to a booth she had at the side of the club, and thankfully the music wasn't as ridiculously loud as it was here. We sat down and she ordered two drinks for us from the very scantily clad server.
"So," I said, "how is it going?"
"What?" she said, nodding her head to the music, and looking around the club. It was like she was waiting to be seen by someone else famous, who would pluck her out of the crowd like a rare flower.
"How is it going?" I repeated, louder this time.
"Great!" she said. "Really great. I had the convertible repainted today. It's the new electric model. Technia, from Sweden."
"Cool," I said.
"And then tomorrow Sturgeworth and I are going yachting," she said, looking out into the crowd.
"Strugeworth?" I asked.
"Oh, I must have not told you. Elvin Sturgeworth. My husband. He's a CEO here."
"What does he do?" I asked.
"He's a CEO," she replied, uninterested.
"OK," I said.
Thankfully the server arrived with our drinks.
I took a sip. It was pretty awful and I tried hard not to gag.
"Great, isn't it?" Emily beamed. "DJ Squeelo designed this drink himself. He's so talented."
"Wow," I said. "Yeah. Amazing."
I turned my head to the side to hide my disgust as the aftertaste abused my taste buds.
Emily and I were friends in high school, but she was always concerned about becoming one of the popular rich kids. She had the looks and the style, but she wasn't from the right families. But we still got along since we had some common interests in some nerdy stuff. Now it looks like she had finally achieved her dream, but at what cost.
"So what are you doing in the city?" Emily asked, her first question.
"I'm working for The Capital"
"With Brent?" she said, her eyes wide.
"Yes," I said.
"How is he doing?" she asked, setting her drink down.
"He's good," I said, biting my lip. "The business is good and his character is just as great as it was when we were younger."
I found myself complimenting Brent when I didn't have to. It was just reflex. Even though I was still ticked off at him.
"He must be really rich now," Emily said, looking at me
as if she were consumed by the idea.
"Yeah," I said, matter of factly.
"Like, really, really, really rich."
"Yeah," I said again, my eyes narrowing. Is that all she cared about when it came to Brent? She couldn't see the full picture of him at all.
I took a sip of my drink again. As bad as it was, it was honestly better than this conversation. Why the hell did I come here? I just wanted to escape from myself, but I ended up in the arms of something I disdained.
I stood up from the booth.
"Well, Emily, I'm going to take a look around," I said.
"Look, DJ Squeelo is taking a break," she said, not paying attention to me at all. "Maybe I can meet him!"
"Go for it," I said, walking away from her.
I didn't know where I was going, but I just had to get some space from her. I felt like I was being sucked into that superficial way of thinking just talking to her. She was only interested in Brent for his money and status. Not for his character. Not for who he really was and believed in and stood for. It was just dollar signs in her eyes. I saw it when she talked about freakin' DJ Squeelo of all people, and again when Brent was brought up.
Well, that type of thinking wasn't for me, and was never going to be. I don't know what I was thinking being here though. I just had to have a moment to myself. I took some more sips of my terrible drinks and wondered what I was going to do next.
Chapter 20 - Brent
I knocked on Michelle's door, but there was no response. I yearned to hear her voice, even if it were just to have her tell me how dumb I am. Sure, I'd take it. And then I'd give a damn good kiss right after and press myself against that delectable body of hers.
"Michelle," I said, knocking, "open up."
But again, no answer from the other side of the door.
I contemplated shoulder barging the door down but thought better of it. Hell, I could just get the key and open it myself. But that's not what I wanted, ultimately. I wanted her. To hear her and have her respond to me.