Claim 2: Volume Two (4 page)

Chapter Six

Loren

For the rest of the work week I go out of my way to avoid Jordan, to the point where I don’t even open his emails, whether they’re work related or not, I don’t know.  On Friday, I finally have to communicate with him about the project we’re working on together.  Gathering my detailed notes, I walk down to his office where he and Patrick are sitting around his desk and it appears they’re having a personal meeting. 

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” I announce, knocking softly on the door jamb.  “If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

Mr. Fletcher rises from his seat, waving me into the office.  “Not at all.  We were just playing catch up.  I’ll let you get back to work,” he says to Jordan, extending his hand, which Jordan takes and shakes up and down a few times. 

“I’ll come by for dinner this weekend.  Tell Marilyn I could really go for some of her meatloaf,” Jordan says.  Smiling at the thought of his sort of stepmother, it reminds me of the times we would go to Patrick and Marilyn’s for dinners and Marilyn would always tease us about giving her grandchildren and buying the house down the street.  Jordan and I both agreed we would never move that close to his family, but the thought of being wanted in such a close vicinity was endearing. 

“I’ll tell her.  You should come by, too, Loren.  I know it would make Marilyn happy to see you.  It’s been such a long time,” he wistfully says.  When Jordan and I told him we were dating, he was happy—a proud father of sorts.  He was pretty broken up when Jordan left.  Lucky for me, I didn’t have to tell Mr. Fletcher why I needed some time away from work to sort through my issues, yet he enforced a mandatory week vacation. 

“I’m not sure if I have plans or not.  I’ll let you know,” I smile, stepping around him to take his now vacant seat.  As Mr. Fletcher’s leaving the office, I notice him turn back to Jordan and I, shaking his head, smiling and muttering something to himself.  If I had to place a bet on what I think he said, it would be something along the lines of, “Those kids are made for each other.”  But I can’t be sure nor do I really want to speculate. 

For the next hour and a half, right up until the end of the day, Jordan and I analyze every piece of data we’ve acquired and try to piece together a plan.  Thankfully, the conversation has remained professional, Jordan honoring his promise to not let whatever is or isn’t going on with us affect our work. 

“What about viral marketing?” I offer.

“For a software company?  You think it could work?” 

“Maybe … maybe not,” I answer, not sure of the approach, but with the over-saturation of traditional print ads, accompanies with the influx of companies using social media for marketing. 

“Think about it.  We’re marketing this product to people who have a computer, use the internet, surf various sites and want or need a better protection for their device.  What better way to get people to know Destined Software than to make some kind of video and see if it we can set it viral?”

“You’re pretty smart, Snowflake.”

“No.”  Slamming my notebook closed, I stand from his desk and angrily walk to the door.

“Loren, I’m sorry.  It just slipped.  We have some other stuff to go over.  Can you please come back over here?”

“Dammit Jordan, we were doing so good.  Getting shit accomplished and making progress.  Then you go and say something stupid.”  The truth is, what he did was stupid, but it’s my own emotions that have me so riled up.  I’ve not heard that name since before he left.  I was his snowflake.  It was something special between us.  Jordan would say that no two snowflakes were alike.  That they couldn’t be compared to anything else; each one majestic and perfect as it landed, almost as if it had a predetermined destination.  Fate.  I was his snowflake, created in the heavens and falling directly onto him. 

“I apologize.  It won’t happen again,” he reiterates, his tone turning colder and he straightens his back and wipes any look of the carefree Jordan I fell in love with away, replaced by his cool, professional demeanor.

“I think we’re done for the day.  We’ll start fresh again on Monday.  Have a good weekend.”  Turning around, I correct my posture as well and stride to my own office, slouching as soon as I step through the threshold of my safety net. 

After I quickly check my email, ensure my voicemail is empty and nothing else requires my immediate attention, I shove a few files in my bag and walk out the door.  Making my way through reception without being flagged down to put any fires out, I press the down button at the elevator and patiently wait, that is until I hear Jordan’s voice from somewhere in the office saying his goodbyes, most likely headed in my direction.  Hitting the button a few more times, as if that’s going to tell the elevator that I’m in a rush and would it arrive faster, it finally dings and the doors slowly open.

Stepping inside, I press the button to close the doors before I even signal for the first floor.  As they start to close, a briefcase forces them back open and Jordan steps inside.  Sighing, I step backward against the glass, defeated and prepare for the awkward thirty second ride I’m about to have.

“Have any plans this weekend?” Jordan asks.  To anyone that might be listening, it would seem like he’s just making casual conversation, but I know better.  He’s asking a loaded question.

“I do, yes,” I answer, not elaborating.

“Well, I’ll see you Monday morning,” he offers when the doors open and he steps out first, turning in the direction of the parking garage.  I continue straight, out the main doors, into the street where Cleo’s idling at the curb for me.

“It’s about time.  I’ve been waiting out here for an entire lifetime,” Cleo exaggerates.  Getting in the car, I toss my bag in the backseat and prepare for a frightening drive home.

“Sorry.  Got caught in a meeting with Jordan.  It ran over what I had expected.”

“You’re getting sucked in aren’t you?  You just can’t resist can you?”

“I have it under control, Cleo.  Promise.”  I’m a terrible liar.  I’m in control of nothing.  I wonder what she’d say if she knew he kissed me the other day.  Actually, no I don’t.  She’d start with something similar to what she already said in the two minutes I’ve been in the car with her, followed up with some moronic question like do I like misery. 

“If you say so,” she mocks.  “Changing the subject.  I brought my clothes so we don’t need to go back to my place.  That is, if you don’t mind me getting ready at your house.”

“Not at all.  It’s been a while since we had a pretty party.”  Back in college, we’d take turns going to each other’s dorm rooms and getting ready for a night of stupid girl fun.  We’d do one another’s makeup and hair, pick out outfits together and all of this is usually done with a bottle of vodka or wine and music cranked loud. 

****

It doesn’t take me long to strip out of my work clothes and hop right in the shower.  Covering every inch of my body with the sugar scrub I’m addicted to, I make sure to not wet my hair so I can easily run a straightener through it without much effort. 

Rinsing my body clean, I turn off the water just in time to hear Cleo screaming at something or someone in the other room.  Wrapping a towel around myself, I step out of the bathroom to see her pacing the hallway, my phone attached to her ear.

“No, you listen to me, jackass.  It was me that helped her pick up the pieces after you royally fucked her over.  I’m not doing it again.  She’s finally in a place where she can move on and now you want to swoop back in and claim what you threw away a long time ago?  Get fucking real.”

I only wish I could hear the conversation on the other end of the line.  Cleo and Jordan never did get along, but after he left, she got even angrier with him.  Obviously, that’s what best friends do, but it even went further than the usual animosity.  She was downright murderous.  I can’t blame her, though.  If Kyle pulled the same shit with her, I’d probably rip his dick clean off his body.

“The guy she started seeing.  He’s perfect for her and I’ll be dammed if you screw it up, like you do everything else.  Stay the fuck away from her, Jordan, I’m not dicking around with you.”

I take a step in her direction and the floorboard creeks underneath my weight.  She quickly turns to face me, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.  Putting the phone to her chest, like it’s going to block out any noise she makes, she whispers, “I’m sorry.  I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay, asshole.  I’m done with you and so is Loren.  She’ll see you at work on Monday.”  Jabbing her finger on the end call icon, she tosses my phone back in my bag and walks toward me.

“I had to, Loren.  If I didn’t, he wouldn’t ever stop,” she defends her actions.

“I didn’t realize he called.  Next time, just don’t answer my phone.  I have voicemail for a reason.”

Cleo rolls her eyes and twists her lips in a weird expression that I can only describe as a sneaky duck face pout.  “Well, he didn’t actually call you.  I might have walked past the couch, seen your phone lying right on top, pulled it out and dialed his number.  It’s quite possible that I instigated everything.  I’m still right, but he might not have been the one to call you.”

“You’re impossible,” I laugh because it’s the only thing I can do.  My sweet little feisty Cleo always trying to protect me.  I can’t blame her.  Everything she said to Jordan was true, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that he is my husband and we work together.  It’s plausible that she’s added a little too much fuel to an already growing inferno.

Ignoring her snide comments about Jordan, I continue getting ready, dressing in my favorite short black skirt, pairing it with a pale pink top and caramel colored cowboy boots.  Stepping into the living room when I’m satisfied with my appearance, Cleo’s at the dining room table picking out my makeup, which she does impeccably.

At a little after seven, we’re both dressed to the nines and walking out the door, heading for the one place I think would be good for me to be tonight.

*****

Walking into the little dive bar that I met Nolan at a few weeks ago, I scan the room looking for him.  It’s Friday, his band or his brother’s should be playing tonight.  Locating Jeremy standing off in the corner chatting with a woman nearly double his age, or at least that’s how it appears, I stroll toward them, his eyes catching me right as I approach.

“Loren!” he yells, a little too excited to see someone he’s only met on one other occasion.  “You come to hear a real band play?”  There’s that cocky little attitude I knew he had. 

“Oh, there’s a real band playing?  I was hoping for a DJ tonight.  Give me something to dance to,” I joke, trying to ignore the daggers Lady Dracula is shooting in my direction.  “Your brother around?”

“He’s in back with Brad, I think,” he responds.  Patting him on the shoulder, I leave him to his cougar and head back to the table Cleo’s sitting at, complete with a few rounds of shots and beers.  

“Is he here?” Cleo asks, passing a shot of whiskey to me as well as a bottle of beer.

“Yeah.  I’m sure he’ll be out in a little bit.  Jeremy said he was in the back with his uncle.  Might be business stuff.  I don’t wanna interrupt.”  Spilling the whiskey down the back of my throat, I pick up the bottle and chase it quickly.

“Does he know you’re coming?”

“Nope.  Figured it would be a nice surprise.”

“Oh, he’s going to be surprised alright.  Have you told him about Jordan?”

“Don’t really know how to approach that topic.  Oh, by the way, I’m married.  And I work with my husband.  And he’s my boss' stepson.”  I leave out the fact that I might still have feelings for him, the one way yelling match from earlier replaying in my head.

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Lo.  Nolan seems like a decent guy.  It’d be a shame for you to throw him away for the same man that threw you away months ago.”

I nod my head, not wanting to have this conversation with her.  It wouldn’t be much of one anyway.  All she’ll do is say I’m stupid for even considering it, make me feel like a fool and probably stab Jordan in his dick.  At the end of the day she’d have my back no matter what I decided, but the journey to get her to that point is what I’m hoping to avoid most of all.

“I do,” I lie.  I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m doing, other than trying to figure out what will make me the happiest.

Chapter Seven

Nolan

“You know when I die, I’m leaving this hell hole to you and your brother.  Ya better take care of it,” Brad jokes, polishing off a glass of finer scotch he keeps in the office only for personal consumption, nothing he’d ever put on the shelf. 

“You’re never gonna die, old man.  Didn’t you hear?  Only the good die young.  I’d say you've got a few decades in ya still, at least,” I laugh, turning my attention to the monitors that survey the bar.

“Looks like your lady just walked in.”  Brad comes up behind me, places his hand on my shoulder and watches with me for a few minutes.  As he backs away, his hand slaps my back and his words are sincere, “She’s a keeper, son.  I’ll always have a soft spot for Wendy, but this girl’s something else.”

“Yeah, she sure is.  I don’t know what it is about her, but I really like her,” I honestly say, continuing to watch long after Brad excuses himself to make sure Jeremy gets to the stage on time.  The kid’s known for flirting with the customers and losing track of time.  I’m just hoping he grows out of the horny teenager phase when he finishes college.  He has so much potential, and the way he screws around, he’ll wind up making a mistake before he has a chance to prove himself to the world.

I’ve only seen Loren a few times without her partner in crime, but I can easily recognize the difference in her demeanor.  Alone, she’s reserved and calculated, worried about making a wrong move.  With Cleo, she abandons everything, choosing to be herself without concern of how anyone sees her.  It’s interesting. 

Closing the office door behind me, I grab a beer from behind the bar and wave to Jeremy to take the stage as I approach Loren and Cleo’s table.  “Evenin’ ladies.”  Clinking the neck of my bottle against Loren’s, I take a long pull.

“Hey you,” Loren says, nudging her shoulder into mine, looking up at me innocently.  God, she’s beautiful.  Perfect in every aspect of the word, inside and out.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.  Everything okay?” I ask, not that I mind she’s here, I just took her for a creature of habit, never breaking the cycle of how things get done no matter the reason.

“Cleo and I had girl's night planned for a few weeks now, figured it would be nice to come hang out until she starts missing Kyle and leaves me alone.  Now, when she bolts, I can hang with you.  Unless you have other plans.”  Looking down at her lap, Loren lets her hair fall in front of her face, probably to disguise the flush of her cheeks. 

“Come on,” I say, putting my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into me, “Had I known you were coming out tonight, I would have worn some cologne or something.  I’d love to be your escort home when Cleo bails.”

“Hey, I’m not leaving,” Cleo balks, crossing her arms over her chest.  She glances down at her phone, an ear to ear smile appearing on her lips before she grabs the phone and giggles to herself.  “Okay, maybe I am.  Sorry, Lo,” she apologizes.

“I figured you couldn’t last a night without your boo,” Loren teases, pushing the hair out of her face and turning to me.  “So, it’s cool that I hang out.  I can make Cleo give me a ride home if not.”

“Goodnight, Cleo,” I whisper, taking Loren by the arm and escorting her to the table closes to the stage.  Cleo runs to the bar, tosses a few bills at Brad and shoves her way through the throngs of people coming in to see Jeremy’s band to get outside. 

“I’ve known that girl forever and each time she has a new boyfriend, she’s the same way.  I can’t even be mad at her for it.  Cleo’s looking for love and hell, I hope she finds it.  Maybe Kyle’s her guy, maybe not, but at least she’s trying, right?” Loren explains, making me a little less apprehensive of her friend.

“Now I have you all to myself.  I’m okay with that.  Need another beer?”  Loren nods her head and I grab Loni, the waitress, ordering another round and a basket of fries.

Jeremy’s band starts to play and unlike mine, they’re a different sound, steering clear of the country songs my guys excel at, focusing more on 80’s and 90’s rock.  Loren hums along with every song, dancing in her chair.  For the first time, she hasn’t closed off when Cleo leaves.  I’m actually sitting here with the real Loren.  I guess she’s more comfortable with me now that we’ve gotten to know each other a bit.

Jeremy’s set slows down to a softer ballad, I think from the hair band era.  Loren’s erratic dancing stops and she sways to Jeremy’s voice powering through the first few lyrics.  Pushing out my stool, I stand and take her hand.  If she’s going to be doing that kind of swaying, dammit, it’s going to be in my arms, not wasted sitting at a table.  Without any hesitation, she allows me to lead her to the makeshift dance floor. 

Pulling her body to mine, with my right hand I grasp hers, clutching it tightly and pressing it between our chests.  With my left, I cup the small of her back, holding her close.  Laying her head on my chest, every time she exhales, her breath hits my neck, driving me insane.  I know I told her that I wanted to wait until I could plan a perfect date, but she’s weakening my resolve with every damn breath.

Even after the song ends and bleeds into something new, we continue to dance at the same tempo, oblivious to the quicker beats.  “I really like this,” Loren whispers into my chest, my hand on her back gripping her tighter, pulling her closer.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” I respond. 

We continue to dance for the next few songs, each time we turn, Jeremy’s eyes catching mine in an all knowing look, and he smiles through every line.  Ignoring the glances from my brother, I take Loren back to the table, leaving a few dollars for Loni and say a few goodbyes.

“You ready?” I ask Loren as she shrugs into her jacket and grabs her purse. 

“Ready.” 

“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” I inquire as I pull my truck out of the lot.  Looking over at Loren, that closed off demeanor I’m used to seeing reemerges.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’m married,” she blurts out.  Swerving onto the shoulder, I brake quickly, throwing the gear shifter in park.  Turning to Loren, she’s looking straight ahead, her hair blocking her face.

“Did you just say you were married?  Like you have a husband?”

“Yes,” she whispers, lowering her gaze.  “I’ve been married a little over a year.”

“Christ, Loren.  I’m not that guy.  I don’t step in on another man’s marriage no matter how much I like the woman.  Never.”

Whipping her head in my direction, her pained expression speaking to the core of me, every inch of my being wanting to reach out and sooth away her sorrow.  “I haven’t seen him in almost a year.  He left me soon after we got married.  So, yes I’m married, but not like other people are married.”

“You either have a husband or you don’t.  It’s really not that difficult.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Okay, let me see if I’m following along okay, sometimes I’m a little slower at understanding complications since I refuse to live with them.  You’re married, but you haven’t seen your husband in a year.”

“I hadn’t seen him in almost a year, yes.”

“You hadn’t seen him, not you haven’t.  Just spit it out Loren.  I’m feeling really uncomfortable being with another dude’s wife right about now.”

“He came back a few weeks ago.  His stepfather is my boss.”

“Shit,” I mutter.  The only woman I’ve felt anything for since Wendy and she’s a married woman.  Belongs to another man.  Shit.

“I filed for divorce a few months ago.  I wanted out.  I don’t know what else to say.  I didn’t want you going into anything blind.”

“What’s there to go into?  You’re married.  Until you’re not, there’s not much here for us, is there Loren?”  I hate being so brash, but the one thing I can’t stand is cheaters.  Granted, Loren’s situation is different, but now that he’s back in her life, he has a right to her.

“I’m so confused,” she cries, pulling her knees up, resting her forehead on them.  “I really like you, Nolan.  I don’t want to stop seeing you.  Everything in me says you’re the right person for me and he’s not.  I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what’s right for you.  Disregard everyone else’s feelings and do what feels right.  What’s going to make you happy.  It’s something you’ll have to live with for the rest of your life,” I say, taking her hand in mine, unable to let her sit here and feel alone, crying her eyes out onto her jeans.  I’m angry, yes, hurt even, but it really seems like this girl’s gone through the wringer. 

“This is so fucked up.”

Pulling back onto the road, I drive through the neighborhood until I reach Loren’s house, parking in the driveway.

“I don’t know what to say to make any of this easier.  I’m here if you need to talk.  We all have pasts, Loren.  Usually it’s a good idea to leave it there where it belongs.”

“Okay, I’m going to go inside.  I need a little time to think.  Nolan, you’re perfect.  Absolutely the perfect man.  I’m so sorry I got you into this mess.  I really didn’t think he’d be back.  He’d been gone so long, I figured he moved on, so I did too.”

“Nothing to apologize for.  Give me a call later if you need to talk.”

Loren opens the door and when she’s halfway up the walk, she turns around and runs over to the driver’s side door, signaling for me to roll down the window.  Doing as she requests, she props her elbows on the door frame, leans in and kisses me on the cheek.  “I forgot to tell you.  I’m working on this campaign at work and I think your band might be perfect for the idea I’m rolling around.  I’m going to send the owner of the company to see you guys next weekend if you’re playing, if that’s okay?”

“Really?  That’s pretty awesome of you.  Thanks.  Of course it’s okay.”  Leaning into her, I gently place my lips on hers, giving her a soft kiss.  “I couldn’t help myself,” I mutter, feeling terrible for touching another man’s wife.  It hasn’t been long since I met Loren, but I know I’m not ready to give her up without a fight.

He left after all.  He walked out on his marriage and when he did that, he opened the door for someone to walk through and take care of what he should be taking care of.  I’m not ready to discount every feeling I have for Loren for some bastard who couldn’t man up.  It’s fair to say I’m in.