Only Yours (6 page)

Trey throws me a cold hard glance that says he is in no mood to deal with my crappy attitude. I sigh heavily. “I screwed everything up. I can’t lose her. Not like this,” I mumble under my breath.

“Yea you did,” he agrees, taking a long draw from his bottle of beer. “Sasha is threatening to rip your balls off and make a necklace out of them,” he laughs.

My eyes widen. “Really?” He nods a small yes and we both let out a strangled laugh. “You really like the crazy ones don’t you?” I ask in surprise.

“She’s not really crazy, just crazy pissed that you hurt her best friend.” Reaching in the cooler by his feet, he pulls out another bottled beer, snaps off the top, and hands it to me. As I take it, he gives me a pointed look. “You’ve got to fix this, brother.”

“I know. Already working on it,” I murmur, rubbing at the back of my neck. “She finally talked to me,” I add absently. A long silence sits between us while I weigh how much I want to say.

So many things have come to light tonight and none of them were in my favor. Not only did my old secret come out and kick me in the balls, but I’ve got to someone prove to Kelly that I love her and won’t screw up again. One thing is certain, if I can’t convince Sasha and Tony of the same thing, I’m screwed. The more I think about it, the more I realize, they might be the hardest to win over.

“
Needless to say, she doesn’t trust me anymore.” I rake a hand down my face and sit back, taking a long pull from the bottle. The smooth bitter flavor does nothing to ease the tension overtaking my body. “I didn’t mean to keep it a secret for so long. There never seemed to be a right time to tell her about Gary. The longer I waited the harder it got until I finally convinced myself it didn’t matter.”

“You love her right?”

I don’t spare a moment to answer. “Of course. She’s it for me.”

“Then stop being a whining pussy and start planning on how you’re going to fix this. Get off your ass and go win your girl back,” he says, with a confidence I wish I felt.

We drink several more beers over the course of the day. I have a million obligations that are begging for my attention and a handful of phone calls to be returned, but for once, I push them all aside and spend the day hanging out with Trey.

Spending the day playing pool and a game or two of basketball remind me of when we were younger. We were troubled kids back then. Two guys with nothing to lose and a load full of bitterness stacked on our backs. It’s amazing we turned out halfway decent and not locked up doing ten to twenty in some state penitentiary. I think the fact that we had each other was the only thing that kept us somewhat straight. Who better to be miserable with than your brother and best friend for life. We never did drugs or used alcohol to drown out our problems. Instead we used our hatred for the foster system to fuel us to do better, to make something out of ourselves, so that one day we could do the same for someone else.

“Heads up,” Trey shouts. I shake off my thoughts and glace up in time to see the basketball come flying my way. Throwing my arms up, I grab it before it has a chance to make purchase with my face.

“You ought to be glad I caught that in time,” I gripe bitterly.

Trey ducks his head, and I notice a slight movement in his shoulders. I think he is laughing at me. I don’t like to be laughed at. In fact, most people, besides Trey wouldn’t openly do so.

“Something funny brother?” I roll my shoulders as I try hard to keep my composure. I am so close to exploding.

Trey lifts his head and sure enough, the bastard is laughing. “Yes, I am. I don’t ever remember you being this twisted over a girl before. Stop being stupid.”

I clench my fists feeling my temper rising to dangerous levels. “So now I am not only funny but stupid as well? You have a death wish tonight? What the fuck is your problem?” I bark.

I take a few threatening steps towards Trey and he immediately backs up, hands going out in front of him as if they are enough to stop me. “Wait, wait! Give me a chance to explain.”

I cock my head in irritation and he does not miss beat as he continues. “I don’t find you funny and until this whole stupid fucked up mess with Kelly happened, you’ve never been stupid either.” Rubbing at the back of his neck he gives me a hard look. “You have never been one to let anything stop you. Hell, after our parents died, we grew up with shit for a life and a handful of reasons to never amount to anything. You took what we had and turned it into a college degree and a company worth millions.”

“What’s your point?”

He sighs. “My point is that you need to stop mopping around here and start planning how to once again turn a bad situation into gold. Get your head out of your ass and do something. If she is so damn special, then don’t let her slip through your fingers.”

Nodding my head, I can’t help but laugh a little. Not because I find anything he said funny, but because he’s right. I hate it when he is right.

“You’re right,” I snap. Losing what little patience I have left, I throw the ball back at him with force. He’s quick. With a spin he ducks in time, managing to only get grazed on the arm, instead of the chest hit I was aiming for. I grin, hearing his sharp intake of breath. At least I’m not the only one now feeling beat up.

“I’ve got some phone call to make. Have fun tonight with Sasha, and do yourself a favor, and stay out of my way for a while,” I yell back as I head back inside to my office. Without checking or caring what time it is, I grab my cellphone, and call the one person I should have phoned hours ago.

It takes a few rings but I smile when I hear her annoyed voice pick up the line. “I know for the sake of my business I need to be cordial, but I am finding it hard to do so right now. You’ve put me in a bad spot. What do you want Daemon?”

“Hi Cherie. It’s great to hear we are on the same page. We need to talk business.” I growl into the line.

I woke up alone back in my bed.

Even, Dimples seems to have vanished on me. My arms stretch wide, feeling nothing but emptiness and cool sheets. I should be used to this considering how many nights I slept alone before Daemon, came strolling into my life, but for some odd reason, not having a large warm body curled up around me, breathing against my skin, brothers the hell out of me.

Grunting in discontent, I throw the warm comforter off me and stomp into the kitchen in search of some strong coffee. I don’t need to look at the clock to know that I have just enough time to indulge in one cup, take a quick shower, and dress for work. I have the most annoying, punctual, internal clock that never fails to have me up and going just after the sun breaks the horizon. One the weekends, I curse it, but on days like this, I relish not waking in a panic while running around the house like a crazed mad woman.

Work? Oh shit!

I sit in a dazed fog.
Do I have a still have a job?
God, I hope I’m not unemployed. I meant to call and speak with Cherie over the weekend about it, but with everything else going on, I conveniently let it slip my mind. Jolting across the kitchen, I snatch my phone off the charger and power it up. It feels like time stands still while I wait for the little white apple symbol to shine on the screen. My phone immediately starts buzzing and dinging with a multitude of new emails, texts, and a few missed call notifications.

I numbly glance over the lot of them. I unsurprisingly missed a call from Tony and Sasha, but the third one makes my brows raise. My mom. I mentally remind myself to call her later, and move on to the texts. Once again I get a handful from Tony and Sasha, each saying good morning and reminding me, to get my ass out of bed and moving. Sasha asks for a lunch date at
Zeppo’s Subs
& More
at noon. I respond with a, “Sure, meet you there.” The next text makes my heart skip a few beats.

Cherie:
Don’t be late to work. Meeting in my office at 9:00.

That’s good right?

She didn’t say I was fired or demoted. Maybe she is waiting until the meeting to throw the axe at me. My ramped thoughts are driving me crazy. My stomach hurts, my palms are sweaty, and throwing a hand on my forehead, I imagine I feel a slight fever coming on.

Maybe I should call in sick today?

I mentally slap myself for being such a coward. “Be a tiger, not a scared kitty-kat,” I silently repeat to myself, while throwing myself into auto-pilot. Following my normal weekday routine, I begin the day by making a strong pot of coffee. The stronger the better.

My mind races as I get dressed. Spreading a thin coat of mascara on my lashes, I idly wonder if anyone at the office has a clue about everything that has happened. Will they stare at me today, or go about their business, oblivious at the imaginary guillotine hanging over my head?

Giving up on my unruly hair, I pull it into a high ponytail, and spritz it with enough hairspray, to keep it up, and out of my face for most of the day. Making myself a cup of coffee in my favorite travel mug, I grab my keys and purse, and run out of the door towards my little red car.

I am so glad to have my car back. It might not be as luxurious or grand as the one Daemon loaned me, but it’s mine, and that is all that matters. The drive to work takes longer than anticipated due to an overturned apple truck on the inside loop. By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m so close to being late. I don’t recommend running in heels, but on days like this, a girl does what a girl has to do. I run. I just need to make to my office before Charity starts spreading nasty rumors about me always being late.

I really need a nicer receptionist.

The office is super quiet today. The only sounds I hear as I do a fast walk through the maze of desks is the clicking of my own high heeled shoes and the light tapping of fingers against a keyboard. To my upmost surprise and relief, no one looks my way as I walk past their cubicles, towards my office. Even Charity barely glances my way when I move by her. I wouldn’t mind a simple, “Hello,” or “How was your weekend, Kelly?”, but I will take silence any day over snide remarks, and outright cattiness.

Entering my own little sanctuary, I soundly close the door and slump against the cool wood exterior, letting lose the breath I’ve been secretly holding. I blink rapidly, trying to re-gain control of my breathing. I need to find that inner strength I keep promising myself is hidden somewhere under all my shaky limbs and crazy emotions.

Snapping out of my irrational mini-freak out, I school my features into passivity, and move to my desk, determined to have a good day. Sitting down, I turn my attention onto my desk, or more importantly, the huge glass vase of lilac tulips covering one large corner of it.

How in the hell did I miss that?

A small vanilla card with my name written on the outside envelope sticks out of the top, taunting me to read it. My fingers anxiously tap against my desk, wanting nothing more than to reach up and snag it, but to my credit, I turn away from it, and push it towards the back of my mind. I need to focus today and whatever is written on that card could very easily unravel me. I’ll read it later, when I’m alone, and can break down without the world being witness to it. Besides, I refuse to let him slink his way back into my life again with gifts and fancy words.

Been there and done that!

I send a message to Charity, asking her to bring me a cup of coffee, and spend the next hour working through my emails, and returning calls that I have been putting off. I don’t normally like to ignore a client, but every so often, you get that one client that you just can’t please. I swear I could follow every single one of Mrs. Danish’s requests to the line, clean her house, do her laundry, and birth her first child for her, and it would still not be enough to make the lady crack a smile.

I’m just finishing up a winded conversation with Mrs. Danish over her wanting to change, for the fifth time, the paint color in her newly re-designed study, when my cell phone starts dancing across my desk. Sneaking a peak at the screen, I see my calendar alert flashing, letting me know my appointment with Cherie is in 10 minutes.

I look around my desk hoping this will not be the last time I get to sit behind it. I love my job. It’s everything I have ever wanted, and the work I’ve done here, proves that I’m right where I belong. Standing slowly on jittery legs, I try taking a few calming breathes. I silently wish I had something stronger than coffee right now. A little false bravado would be welcomed. I need all the help I can get.

As I walk out, I stop by Charity’s desk. Even as I stand less than five feet from her, she continues typing on her computer, never turning her head or acknowledging my presence. I silently vow to make the little twerp run her ass off the rest of the day. She can stay busy fetching me anything from cups of coffee to running down special antique ink pens that haven’t been made in the last twenty years. I secretly have a fetish for expensive fountain pens. Not even Sasha or Tony know how far my obsession goes. Some women love shoes. I love unique fountain pens.

“Charity,” I snap, my voice cold and harsh. I hate to be kept waiting and she damn well knows it.

Batting her overly long fake lashes, she finally turns and gives me a big fake smile. “Yes, Kelly?”

I grimace. Her syrupy voice grinds away at my overly stroked nerves. If nothing else, dealing with Charity, has pushed all my anxiety away and brought forth my confidence, and a sureness I haven’t felt in the last few days. It’s nice to see Charity is still good for something besides showing too much cleavage and pissing me off.

“I’m going to a meeting in Cherie’s office. Please forward all my calls to my voice mail. If you need anything you can page me, otherwise I should be back in within the hour.”

She gives me a curt nod and before turning her attention back to her computer screen. The bitch actually has the nerve to try and dismiss me. Mumbling a list of colorful obscenities under my breath, I stalk down hall until I reach Cherie’s receptionist, Betty. Betty has been with the company for well over fifteen years and has a wonderful grandmother quality about her that makes you love her instantly. She’s a beautiful woman inside and out, with perfectly silver streaked hair and red rimmed glasses that highlight her rich toned skin and sparking grey eyes. Last Christmas she made me a whole tin full of homemade sugar cookies. They were amazing. Besides the few Sasha stole, I ate the whole lot of them in one sitting. I should have been ashamed, but I wasn’t.