Fifteen Weekends (5 page)

  “Just once I wish someone in this damn office could get something right and finished on time. Taking time out of my schedule to do other people’s work is not something I’m fond of doing,” he lectured. A glint of gold flecked in his brown eyes and he ran his hands through hair inhaling sharply.

  “Excuse me Ethan, I’ll be right back,” Emily said firmly.

  Pivoting on her heel, she walked to the door and turned the corner. Once she got far enough down the darkened hallway, assured that Ethan wouldn’t hear her cries, she sprinted for the stairs. When Emily reached her office she closed the door and leaned against the cool wood trying to calm her jolted nerves. Morgan had left her in such a bind with all of her screw-ups.

  Pulling up the email from Morgan, she saw that it was last year’s numbers, but the email was not forwarded from Ethan. Morgan had just attached the wrong copy.
  “Fuck me!” Emily blurted loudly. “Why didn’t I fucking catch this mistake?” She was merely yelling for stress release for her own sake into her dimly lit office.

  Emily slumped down in her chair and sat there for a moment staring at the email. Replaying the conversation with Ethan over and over in her mind and hearing his grating words wash over her, Emily felt like a scolded child who had done nothing but disappoint her parents. Ethan and Emily were equal colleagues, yet he somehow he seemed far superior in his role with the company than she did.

  “Who does Ethan think he is to treat me this way?”

  A shudder moved through Emily as she heard the thunder and lightning wickedly cracking outside. She peered out her window and saw the rain coming down in sheets. Emily wrapped her arms around her shoulders and sighed deeply.

 
Knock…Knock…Knock

  “Emily, is everything alright?” Ethan asked softly.

  Emily would rather crawl under her desk and hide than face another berating from Ethan Carlson.

Chapter Six:

Amanda

  Lying in bed staring at the ceiling Amanda felt restless. She looked at the time. It was nearly one-thirty in the morning. She contemplated reading the latest issue of
Maison Bleue Magazine
or finishing a chapter in the book she was reading. Flashes of lightening illuminated her bedroom, and seconds later, thunder rumbled in the distance. Startled by the noise Amanda sat up quickly, got out of bed and padded into the living room. Unlocking the sliding glass door to the balcony she felt the spring breeze hit her body.
Why was it was warmer now than it was earlier today? That’s funny.
Only in the Midwest was running both the air-conditioner and heater in the same day considered completely normal.

  She felt cold raindrops sporadically hit her skin like tiny needles. The skyline over Grand Rapids was especially colorful tonight giving it an iridescent glow from the lightening. The intense illuminating flashes and loud thunderous claps reminded Amanda of another stormy May night. A loud bang and jolt of lightening that seemed to be very close to the condo sent Amanda retreating back inside, closing the door behind her. 

  Crossing the living room, she peeked to see if Daniel was in his room. He was not. She wondered what bar he was in downtown, no doubt dancing the stormy night away. Opening the fridge she pulled out a bottle of coconut water and headed back to her bedroom. Perusing her well assorted collection of books, stemming from literary classics to murder mysteries and a few dirty novels for just plain fun, she saw the purple floral print box located on the top shelf.

  Pulling the box down carefully, she slid the top back and started rifling through its contents. There were tons of photos, pictures of her days at Notre Dame and tailgating with friends before the big game. There was one of her standing with her father on the eighteenth green of the golf course at the club in her wedding gown.  She sometimes really missed her father, but he wanted nothing to do with Amanda. All her life, Amanda was the apple of both her mother and father’s eyes.  She excelled at so many things, swimming, tennis, volleyball and academics. Amanda was incredibly smart. She would have preferred school to be more social rather than studious, though.

  She touched the photo, glossing her finger lightly over the image of her in the dress, remembering the feel of the duchess silk satin. Laughing to herself, she picked up the picture of her and Julie waving sparklers and wearing patriotic yet cheesy light-up Uncle Sam hats from the club’s Fourth of July party. Finally Amanda found it, the photo she had been looking for, the one that shattered her entire world after being uploaded to the Bloomfield Buzz online gossip blog with the caption, “Amanda Ford’s Rainy Night Rendezvous with a Mystery Man.” 

  The man in the photo was not her then husband Brandon Ford. Nope, it was Andrew Langston. Andrew was the 21-year-old bartender at the country club with whom she started an affair four years ago.
How could I have been so careless? Brandon gave me everything I ever wanted and more.
Then, she remembered the loneliness she felt during her marriage. Brandon worked nearly every night and sometimes on weekends at the law firm.

  Amanda heard the door to the condo open. She quickly leapt off the bed and shut off the light. Sweeping up the box of photos in her arms, she jumped under her covers with them pretending to be asleep. She did not want to be up another two hours listening to Daniel rambling on about all the young guys he met while out dancing.  Even though she’d love to go toe to toe with Daniel and tell him about meeting Vince, she knew that she needed her sleep to function properly at work. Stretching out her legs and yawning, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand. The time was 2:10 A.M. She had an alert from Foursquare, Amanda sighed reading the notification.
Looks like
Ashleigh’s in Detroit again.
I miss Detroit.

  Getting out of bed quietly she tiptoed to her bookshelf and placed the box back on the top. Amanda took a quick few sips of her water and crawled back into bed, wrapping the sheets around her as the lightning flashed four times outside. There was a loud crashing boom that caused her to screw her eyes tight. Amanda pulled her blanket over her head and tried to shut out the noise.

Chapter Seven:

Ashleigh

 
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now in our final approach to Detroit. Please put your seats and tray tables in the upright and locked positions. We do have some weather in the Detroit area… some light rain showers.  The local time is now 1:32 A.M. The Temperature at Detroit Metropolitan Airport is surprisingly warmer than usual, currently it’s fifty-seven degrees. We’re so glad you joined us, and thank you for flying with Delta Airlines.”
Ashleigh’s eyes fluttered open slowly. She glanced out the window into the blackness of the night sky. 

  “Do you have any trash, Miss?” asked the flight attendant as she held out the garbage bag in Ashleigh’s direction.

  “I do not. Thank you,” she replied.

  The plane had a pretty smooth landing despite the rainy weather. Taxiing to the gate Ashleigh turned her phone back on to check her messages. A few Foursquare check-in notifications, a couple of Facebook updates and a tweet from
@
LIAMFROST
15.

  @
ASHMPRESTON
15
IT
WAS
WONDERFUL
TO
SEE
YOU
. {
SMIRKS
}
HOPE
YOU
ARRIVED
SAFELY
IN
DETROIT
.

 
She typed a quick message to Liam.

  @
LIAMFROST
15
ENJOYED
SEEING
YOU
AS
ALWAYS
.
I
JUST
LANDED
.
GOING
TO
THE
HOTEL
NOW
.
XO

  The ride to the hotel from the airport was quiet except for the low hum of the radio in the cab, which was set to WWSK 950 AM, Amanda’s former place of work. The conversation was regarding the safety practices of the textile industry, recalling the horrific building collapse in Bangladesh that killed more than two hundred and thirty people. Gazing out the window of the taxi she thought about all those poor people who lost loved ones, and she felt a deep sadness wash over her body.

  The rain was beginning to fall at a faster pace now, and the few cars that were on the streets at this hour began to slow down. People in the Midwest seem to forget how to drive when it rains or snows. Ashleigh stretched her arms and yawned. She collected her belongings as the taxi came to a stop under the glass awning of the hotel.

  Arriving in her room Ashleigh took off her coat and began to unpack her toiletries placing them on the vanity in the bathroom. The clock read 2:20. Ashleigh unzipped her suitcase finding her pajamas and slipped into them. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she began to plug in all her electronics including her iPad and iPhone. Making sure the door of the room was locked and latched, she turned off the bathroom light and then climbed into bed. As she was just drifting off to sleep her phone lit up with an alert, it was a tweet from Liam.

 
@
ASHMPRESTON
15:
GLAD
TO
HEAR
YOU
MADE
IT
TO
YOUR
HOTEL
.
WISHING
YOU
A
RESTFUL
NIGHT
’
S
SLEEP
. 

  A smile slid across her pale pink lips as she read the message from Liam. Placing the phone back on the nightstand, she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she found herself standing in the elevator lobby of the Corinthia Hotel with Liam. 

  The elevator car dinged alerting the pair that they had arrived on the floor of the penthouse.   Holding the shiny chrome door for Ashleigh he gestured for her to exit the car. Liam led her through the beautiful conservatory style entrance, which hosted a grand marble staircase. A flowing floral motif was etched in the walls of the stairwell and a stainless steel handrail with decorative detailing guides the way as you ascend to the second level. There was so much light in the space, showcasing the striking marble counter tops, impressive tailored furniture and glossy silk wallpaper.

  When they arrived upstairs in the master suite Ashleigh turned to Liam and said, “Just like Bond, you’ve already managed to get me to your bedroom. Impressive, quite the place you have here.”

  “Why thank you, but you haven’t seen anything yet.” 

  Liam walked to the center of the room and drew back the curtains revealing the London skyline and spacious rooftop terrace, hardly what Ashleigh would consider a patio. In Grand Rapids, most people use their patios to take care of their herbs in small plastic orange flowerpots and host summer barbeques with friends and family. But
this
was a terrace, and this particular
London rooftop terrace was especially posh with its open fire pit, stylish furniture and inviting vitality pool. One could easily imagine hosting charity galas and cocktail receptions in a space such as this.

  “Can I pour you some champagne?” Liam asked holding up a bottle of Laurent-Perrier Brut.