Haze (20 page)

Isla

"I quit." That felt better than I ever imagined it would.

"Sure."

No, just no. Fight me on this Cicely. Get mad. Give me something. Throw me a fucking bone.

"Sure?" I round the counter so I'm facing her directly. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs her orange fabric colored shoulder. "You quit. I get it."

I stomp my foot. This isn't happening. I need some satisfaction here. "You're not upset at all?"

"Are you asking if I'm going to miss you, Isla?"

I'm not asking that, am I?

She looks down at a stack of papers in front of her. I follow the movement as her shaking hands scatter the papers about before she pulls them back into a pile.

"What's wrong?" I reach forward and grab her wrists. "Tell me what's going on."

Her shoulders stiffen. "I saw Lance last night."

"Lance?" I try to remember if she ever mentioned a Lance before. No, there's no way. I'm sure I would remember that. "Who is Lance?"

"You know who he is."

Apparently she did mention Lance and I was too awestruck by her choice of wardrobe that day that I zoned out. I'm going to go for the obvious. "Is he the man you loved?"

She nods quickly. "He came to see me. We went for dinner."

Somehow we've become confidantes since I quit my job twenty seconds ago. "Did it go well?"

I'm greeted with a loud sniffle. "He wants to get back together."

"That's good?" I ask cautiously. "It's good, right?"

"He's a secretary, Isla," she hisses. "He works for Alec Hughes as his secretary."

If I knew who Alec Hughes is that might make this easier to understand. I'll take a random shot in the dark. The only Hughes I've ever heard of is the man who owns the company that Cassia is interning at. "Hughes Enterprises? Lance works there?"

"Don't sound so impressed."

"I'm not."

Her head bolts up. "So you agree with me? You wouldn’t date a man who is a secretary either, would you?"

"I once dated a guy who cleaned windshields at red lights for tips, Cicely. I'm not the best judge."

She smiles. She actually smiles. "My parents think it's ridiculous. They want me to be with someone like Mr. Foster."

He's taken. Hands-off.

"Why do you give a fuck what your parents think? They're not dating him."

"They have a reputation. They don't want it sullied by someone like Lance," she says every single one of those words with a straight face.

"Sullied? Do your parents live in this century, Cicely?"

Another smile, this one brighter. "I don't want to disappoint them, Isla."

I tap her on the chest. "This is what you worry about. It's your heart, Cicely. You love this guy, don't you?"

"I love him more than anything."

"Don’t lose him. Sully whatever you need to in order to keep him."

She nods, straightening the legs of her orange pantsuit. "I'll take your advice but I'm still not going to miss you."

"I won't miss you either." I pull her into a tight hug. "I won't miss you at all."

***

"You decided to go ahead and settle with your mother?" Gabriel cocks a dark winged brow. "You feel confident that's the best decision for you."

"I do." I'd gone to Garrett's office after work today. As much as I had wanted to quit on the spot yesterday, I did give Cicely a full two weeks' notice. I don’t want to leave her in a bind and I won't start working at the music school until a week after that.

My plan now is to polish my craft so that when I do land an audition with Julliard, I'll be prepared and I'll have the funds in place to pay for my own tuition.

"I'm happy for you then, Isla."

I don't push him on whether he believes it's the best decision because it's not his life. It's mine and putting the drama with my mother behind me will give me the emotional freedom I need to finally move forward without all this weighing me down.

"I need a financial advisor." I look across the table at him. "Can you offer any suggestions?"

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I have several I'd highly recommend. I'll put you in touch with them and then you can decide the right fit for your needs."

"That's very helpful."

He brings the glass of ice water to his lips. He drinks it slowly, all the while watching me over the rim. "I will help you in any way I can. You need only ask and I'll be right there. I'm always available for you."

"Can we talk about the other night?"

He shifts slightly in his chair, his eyes darting around the almost empty restaurant. "Yes, of course. What would you like to talk about?"

"You seem uncomfortable." I look towards the door. "We can go to another place if you prefer."

He shakes his head slightly from side-to-side. "This is fine. I've never been here. I don't generally wander into this part of the city."

"I don't either," I confess. "A customer who lives in the neighborhood said this place was fantastic."

He moves again. This time his hand scoops up his smartphone from the table. He scans the screen before he places it back down. It's not an act of curiosity. He's nervous, really, really nervous.

"Haze."

That brings another smile to his lips. A soft one. "You use your safeword at the most interesting times, Isla. What's going on?"

"Did I take you away from something important when I asked you to meet me here?"

"No," he answers quickly. "Not at all."

I don't know where to take the conversation from here. I can't push if I have no idea what's troubling him. He runs a huge fashion conglomerate. I imagine that he has a mountain of problems weighing him down on any given day.

"Tell me where haze comes from?" He motions to the server. "I'm going to need a drink after all."

I sit quietly while he orders a glass of red wine.  I don't say anything while he types a message on his phone until the drink arrives.

"It came from you."

"What came from me?" he asks quietly. "Haze came from me?"

I reach forward to pull the wine glass towards me. I tip it back, swallowing a mouthful of the rich, red liquid. "Yes, it came from you."

He looks at me intently, his eyes studying every curve of my lips before they move to my eyes. "Explain, Isla."

"It's silly." I sip more of the wine, enjoying the warmth it provides in not only my throat but my entire body. "It's going to sound so stupid."

"There is nothing that you could ever say to me that would sound stupid." He raps his fingers on the top of the wooden table. "Tell me."

"I'm not sure why I applied at the boutique. I mean I wanted a job and when I was walking past one day there was a sign in the window. It said that there were jobs, so I walked in."

"I recall Cicely posting a notice on the window."

"I spoke to Wallis that day. She hired me on the spot after I filled out the application. I started the day after that."

"It was a quick process." He glides the glass back towards him, taking a small gulp before he pushes it back to me.

"I got up every day and went there. I did my job. I came home and every day I would stop at the deli two blocks up from my place and buy a turkey sandwich."

"A turkey sandwich with no mustard?"

"Yes, no mustard." I smile. "Then you came into the store that day. I swear that when I turned around and looked up at you, there was this glow around you."

His hands rest on the table. "Tell me more."

I feel a rush of embarrassment. "I wanted to kiss you. I really wanted to kiss you in your office that day you reprimanded me for inviting myself there."

"The day you said you'd come for a private lingerie show?"

"It was more of a private fuck me please party, but that's semantics."

He laughs loudly, his head falling back. "The truth finally comes out."

"That's part of it," I say softly. "That's just the beginning."

Gabriel

"Tell me the ending, Isla."

She looks at the wine glass, her fingers inching towards it, before she pulls them back with a faint shake of her head. "We obviously didn't kiss that day and then I thought you were hooking up with Cicely."

"That's unfortunate," I quip.

"She seriously made it sound like you were dating." She rolls her big blue eyes. "I bought into that. I totally believed she was your type."

"You are my only type." I lean back in my chair, feeling much less anxious than I did ten minutes ago.

She dips her chin down but not before I see the faint rush of pink that takes over her cheeks as she blushes.

"I was excited when I saw you at the charity event at the symphony." She pushes her hair back over her left shoulder, a few strands clinging to the fabric of her black dress. "You look amazing in a tuxedo, by the way."

I smile, not wanting to interrupt her.

"I've kissed men before," she admits with a tilt of her hand in the air. "I mean of course I have, but it was different when you kissed me in your car."

"Different in what way?" My curiosity, when it comes to Isla, is an uncontainable beast.

"Intense, powerful, the connection between us felt basic and primal."

"It was that way for me as well." I adjust my legs, crossing them in a thinly veiled attempt to mask my growing erection. Kissing Isla is almost as sensual as licking her cunt or fucking her. It's a treasure of flavors and sensations. It's something I could do for hours.

"Please don't think I'm foolish." Her voice cracks with the words. "I'm not a foolish person."

"You're an incredibly special person. The most special person I know. I don't consider you foolish at all."

She nods as she leans back in her chair. "I write poetry. I used to write poetry."

The admission pushes me back as well. Not only physically in my chair, but on an emotional level as well. I don’t want to derail her right now, but I'm on the edge of understanding so much. I don't want to lose that.

She tilts her body to the left, pulling up her bag. It's a larger purse than I've seen her with before. It's black, tattered and it's obvious she's had it for years. "I brought my poetry with me."

Her small hand dives into the bag and pulls out a blue notepad. The pages are askew, single papers jutting out from the sides. It's a complicated mess.

"I wrote my first poem the day after my grandmother died."

She opens the pages slowly. Her hands delicately smoothing over the paper. "Would you like to read it?"

I'd love nothing more. "Yes."

Tears fill her eyes, making the irises more vibrant than they normally are. She's so fragile and strong and such an intricate, incredible person.

"It's called Haze."

I try to drop my eyes to the paper but as I look at the tears streaming down her face, I understand. "How many poems have you written, Isla?"

"Hundreds."

"Tell me the name of the second poem you wrote."

She sobs quietly. "Haze."

I swallow hard. "The third?"

"Haze."

"When did you write the last poem, Isla?"

"Two nights before my birthday."

I stop there out of my own selfish need to read her words. I rest my forehead on my hand, my elbow propped on the table as I read the tortured words of a young woman desperately alone in the world.
I am alone in this haze called life.

Every single day is a haze.

What does it feel like to live beyond the haze.

Haze…

Repeated again and again.

"This is your safeword?"

"I knew I'd never say it when I'm with you." She pulls in a deep breath. "You're supposed to pick something you know you wouldn't say when you're with that person."

I nod as I stare into her face.

"The haze disappeared when you kissed me."

Isla

The moment I step out of the washroom and back into the almost vacant restaurant I know something is wrong. I'd only gone in there to fix my make-up after I'd sobbed in front of Gabriel. I knew I'd show him my poetry tonight. It's not publication worthy, and I don't intend to ever show it to another person, but it's part of my relationship with him, so it was a gift I had to share.

His head is bowed as he talks on his phone. His eyes shielded to me by his hand as he cups it over his brow. He's impatient with the person on the other end, scolding them with his tone, if not his words, which I'm too far away to hear.

I glance at the table, realizing that approaching it now, would only interrupt him. It has to be business. He must be dealing with something beyond my scope of understanding. I don't run a company. I can't imagine ever doing that.

My passion is music and now that my life is settled, it's where my time and energy will be spent.

I walk towards the bar, which is dotted with a handful of people, sitting on stools. I smile at the bartender as I order another glass of wine to share with Gabriel.

The drink will help calm my nerves, and there's something intimate in sharing a glass with him.

"Do we know each other?" A female voice pulls at me from the left. "Isla, is that you?"

I turn quickly when I realize it's Tiffany, a customer, from the boutique. "Tiffany, how are you?"

She pulls me into a quick embrace. "I'm well. I'm here to grab a quick drink with a friend. Do you want to join us?"

"I'm here with someone." I don’t gesture towards the table. Gabriel and I haven't made our relationship public yet. I'm not sure if that matters to him, but it's not my place to announce it to the world. Besides, I like having him like this, just for me.

"There's my friend now." She looks around me towards a woman who just walked through the door. She's tall, beautiful, her hair spiky and black.

"Sage." Tiffany stretches her hand out to the woman. "This is Isla."

The woman stops short of where we're standing, her gaze raking me from head-to-toe before a sly smile takes over her mouth. "I know Isla, or technically, I've seen Isla before."

"At the Liore boutique?" Tiffany asks. "It's where I met her too."

"It wasn't there." Sage gestures towards the door. "It was just down the street from here. I saw you at Skyn."

My hand darts up to cover my chest even though the dress I'm wearing does that for me. "You saw me at Skyn?"

"Well, fuck me…" her voice trails as her eyes scan the restaurant. "You're not here with Gabriel, are you?"

I glance back to where he's still seated, his head bowed in a deep conversation. "You know Gabriel?"

She laughs then. It's not sweet or filled with any notes of enjoyment. It's dark, almost sinister. "Do I know Gabriel?"

The answer is clear. He's fucked her.

"That's the Gabriel you did all that fucked up shit with?" Tiffany giggles. "He's the one? You're not talking about Gabriel Foster, are you?"

I pull in a ragged breath. "I should go."

"You should stay so you can tell me how the fuck he found you." Sage's hand wraps around my wrist. "He picked you out in the club but then you dropped your bag and the night went straight to hell."

"He picked me out?" I ask, my voice a clear reflection of my emotions. It's shaky, quiet, confused.

"I actually had a friend all primed for him that night." She snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Then, boom, he spots you shaking your pretty little ass on the dance floor and he decides you're the one."

"The one?" I stare at her face.

"He was there trolling for a fuck and apparently you're his type."

"Isla." His voice cracks through the space.

I turn towards him but he's already next to me. "Sage, keep your fucking mouth shut."

"Oh Christ, Gabriel." She pushes his shoulder. "You already told her all this, no? What I want to know is how did you track her down?"

"We're leaving." His hand is on the small of my back. "Isla, now."

"He gets off on that, Isla," Sage calls after us. "Big, bossy Gabriel."

I don't hear anything else she says as we brush past the table and I pick up my poetry, shoving it back into my bag.