Zenith Fulfilled (6 page)

Rob set the box down and
threw his Thermos and lunch bag on the counter. He stared at Rebecca’s package for a while. What the hell did this woman want from him? Why would she choose to write about him? It was stupid. Pointless. And he wasn’t going to do it. No matter what. But damn, if she didn’t manage to stir up images, feelings, and memories he didn’t want in his mind right now. Damn, if right then, a good, stiff drink didn’t sound enticing, if only to soothe the churning in his gut after thinking about Joelle. And his past. And
Zenith
. And all of his failures that now culminated to define his entire life, as well as his future.
Fuck her
. What did Rebecca Randall understand about losing sight of your dreams, or ruining your own future? What did she understand about addiction? And where did she find the gall to say she could write about them?

Rob walked out his door, grabbing his helmet before he got onto his bike. It started with a loud, adrenaline-rus
hing roar, then hummed as it idled. It was the only expensive, frivolous, impractical item he ever bought in his life. He discovered that it helped him whenever he felt alone, or wanted to start drinking, or when the memories he tried to ignore collaborated to overwhelm him. He climbed onto the bike and sped off. Fleeing the past, he zoomed along the road, lost in the zone of just riding. No one could bother him here on the open road; and best of all, he couldn’t even try to reach for a drink. 

“Williams, get over here.”

Rob looked up when he heard the yell from his superintendent. He put down the hammer he was using to frame a door. The current building in progress was part of a long, generic strip mall. He glanced towards the job trailer: a white modular, on wheels with signs on safety and procedure hanging off it. Unused equipment sat around it in the fenced construction site. The day was pleasant, sixty-five degrees or so, and the sun was shining. It was May, and the forecast promised there might be a reprieve from the relentless rain that usually hammered the area from October to June.

Rob
worked as a construction laborer, mostly for Star Construction, a general contractor based outside of Seattle. But his work could be anywhere from Bellingham, all the way down to Olympia. There were even jobs east of the Cascade Mountains. Work was work, never mind the commute. Today, Rob was working in Everett, right near the waterfront.

The loose gravel crunched under Rob’s
workboots as he walked across the muddy, unpaved ground. His foreman, a tall, lean guy named Connor Owens, was leaning in the job shack doorway.

“Your sister’s here. Better make it quick.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and frowned. He didn’t have a sister. “Who?”

“Over there.”

Rob glanced through the construction fence, spotting a maroon mini-van; and standing beside it, Rebecca Randall. He sighed as a litany of unflattering names swirled into his head. He clenched his fists; this crazy bitch couldn’t take no for an answer, could she?

“Thanks,” Rob said without elaborating. Owens didn’t care if he had a sister or not. He started heading towards her van. Pissed. He was seriously pissed off for the games, the persistence,
and the constant intrusion into his personal life. Rob took his hard hat off as he approached her and threw it near the fence. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I really can’t fucking believe you
had the balls to come here!”

Rebecca’s eyes grew big and she stepped back. He came at her fast, furious and swearing.

“Joelle said…”

“What makes you think I give a damn what my ex-wife says? To you? About me? In fact, I hate even hearing that my ex-wife talks to you about me. So what makes you think she knows anything about me
anymore?”

“She just…”

He stepped closer to her, and she backed up, bumping into the door of her stupid mini-van. She gulped visibly. Rob put a hand out as he leaned into the vehicle, nearly trapping her against her van. “She what? Can’t wait to discuss our history with you? Nick’s sister? Really? She thinks that’s a good idea? Does she plan to include our sex life too? How I used to give it to her? When? Where? How long? You gonna write about that? Gonna let big brother see it? Gonna let…”

Rob suddenly stopped as his eyes landed on something moving inside the van. His temper boiled.
Shit
. There was a little kid in the back seat. Staring. At him. At the crazy, swearing man now yelling at and manhandling her mother.

He thumped his fist against the roof of the vehicle.
“You brought your kid here?”

Rebecca
ducked under his arm as he stepped back. “That’s my youngest daughter, Karlee, and she didn’t have pre-school today. I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t think you’d get so upset.”

He scowled at her.
“You could have stopped me before I freaked her out.”

Rebecca bristled and raised a finger to his chest.
“How was I to know you’d walk up and start swearing like a maniac before I could even say hello?” She tried to stand taller and continued pointing her finger at him. He scratched his head. When did anyone ever point a finger into his chest? He might be short for a dude, but no one would dare to mess with him.

“How old is she?”
he finally asked.

“
Who?” Her eyes widened. “You mean Karlee? Oh, she’s three.”

Three years old! Poor little kid probably never heard the F-word before he said it. Great. Now he was responsible for having taught it to her.
His mouth tightened. “Tell her I’m sorry she heard that.”

Rebecca waved her hand in the air dismissively. “She’s listening to one of her movies, so I doubt she heard a thing. I was in the city and on my way home. We
live about half an hour north of here. I just thought maybe I’d ask if you reconsidered my proposal.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth in order to keep his voice calm and cool, and
to avoid swearing again in the kid’s presence despite whether she was listening or not. “Did you even stop to consider I could have picked up the phone if I wanted to? Or e-mailed you? You were pretty clear about giving me every way possible to contact you.”

She nodded.
“I thought you probably wouldn’t bother.”

He
crossed his arms over his chest, and leveled his gaze at her. “If you thought that, why are you still pursuing me?”

“Did it suck?”

Rob blinked. “Did what suck?”

“What I wrote? Did it suck?
Did my book suck?”

Rob stared at her. She was really quite pretty, if you like
that girl-next-door, young mother cuteness. She had a face, neither exotic, nor beautiful, but round and well appointed. She had the kind of face a person enjoyed looking at because it was so nice. Clear, big, blue eyes, complemented the faint auburn of her naturally arched eyebrows, which were barely a shade darker than the deep, shining red of her curly hair. Today, she had her mop of corkscrew curls pulled back into a ponytail. A few stray strands kept flying forward and landing over her forehead. She couldn’t possibly contain them all She wore jeans, with flat brown shoes, and a casual, patterned shirt. Nothing appeared too tight, or too noticeable. She was pretty and casual, with a nice figure: not too skinny, but certainly not overweight.

And
the freckles. Rob was never too keen about freckles, which were scattered in a spray over her nose, cheeks, forehead, and chin, and disappeared past the scooped neck of her shirt. They were cute as hell on her and only added to her innocent look. She didn’t try to cover them either. She wore light, minimal makeup and seemed to know exactly who she was, and happily accepted it. She was calm, even cool, when confronted with his crude expression of anger.

And
she was a married mother of three.
A married mother of three
who, for whatever reason, was becoming overly zealous in her interest in
him
. He couldn’t figure her out.

Ashamed and apologetically aware of the little kid in the van, Rob lowered his voice, and cooled his temper.

“I don’t know if it sucked or not. I never read it.”

“Why not?”

“Why? Because I’m not interested in what you’re offering.”

Her gaze lowered and her shoulders slumped. “I thought maybe if you thought I didn’t suck at writing books, you’d reconsider it.”

“This? As in what? Your unauthorized expose on my life?”

“No
—God, if you’d read it, you’d know what I had in mind.”

“Do you have me in mind simply because you don’t actually know anyone else with an addiction that you can write about? You’re a stay-at-home-mom, who lives out in middle of nowhere, observing no one, learning nothing, who thinks that writing will provide you with the excitement you obviously lack. And being stuck out there in the wild
erness where you live gives you little choice on the subject to write about. I think that Joelle was probably your only link to an interesting life.”

She flinched. “Yes. You’re right. Joelle was my only link. To you. But I want to write because I’m really good at it.”

“Then write yourself a novel. I don’t know… go make up something.”

“I can’t write like that. I don’t write fiction. I can write this, I can chronicle real life. I really can. Just please, give me a chance.”

Rob looked off towards other buildings and houses in the area, while cars passed by on the quiet business street. “Look, you have an interesting hobby. Better than most of your acquaintances, I’ll bet. But you’re way out of your league here.”

“It’s not a hobby.” She gnashed her teeth and fisted her small little hands. It was kind of funny how hard she was trying to be bad-ass. The girl couldn’t even pull off a bout
of angst. “It’s my career. I mean, I want to make it my career.”

He shrugged.
“Just write what you want. With a billionaire brother, and a husband you already have all the career you can handle.”

Her jaw dropped.
“No wonder Joelle dumped you! A husband isn’t any career.”

He stepped closer and pushed at her toe with his boot tip. “You think that’s going to get what you want from me?”

She swallowed and suddenly wilted, shaking her head. “No. I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I want to succeed.”

Rob laughed. Mirthlessly. “We all do, sweetheart. But most of us don’t have Nick Lassiter for a sibling who can easily replace the bitterness of not achieving our dreams or getting what we want.”

“This isn’t about Nick.”

“It is to me.”

“You won’t read what I wrote because of who my brother is?”

He shook his head. Was she fucking stupid? How did she not get this? Or
how much he hated her brother. “
Your brother
is married to my wife.”

“Your ex-wife.”

“Not when he met her.”

Rebecca paused
and bit her lip, nodding her concession to that. Rob sighed and glanced back towards the job site. “Look, I have to get back to my real job. Go home and play with the kids, sweetheart, this ain’t gonna happen.”

Rob
spun on his heel and walked away. She’d have to take the hint after that. Her mouth fell open in surprise at his audacity. It made him smile when he grabbed his hard hat and put it back on his head. He returned to the door he was framing, and brought his hammer out of his tool belt, going right back to where he left off before Rebecca interrupted him. He grabbed some nails, hammering one, then the next. The pounding was quite effective at keeping voices, and thoughts about Joelle, Nick, Spencer, Erica, and now Rebecca, from residing very long in his head.

****

Rebecca watched Rob swing a hammer over the two by four his knee was holding in place as he worked on the ground. His bare arms strained when he hammered before he sat back on his heels. His t-shirt stuck to his skin with sweat and the color of his tattoos stood out in contrast to his white shirt. 

Warmth still radiated on her skin from her blush that started in her chest and overtook her entire face. She hated her skin’s
paleness and how easily her embarrassment showed. She also hated how amusing Rob seemed to find it.

What could she have been thinking to stop by like this? Uninvited. Unwanted. And claiming to be Rob’s sister! He took her off guard when he abruptly approached her, already angry at her, beyond what she could explain. And already so sure he didn’t want to hear her latest excuse.

It was a fool’s errand and she was a fool. He already hated her long before he met her, because of Nick and Joelle. Rebecca returned to the van and backed out, leaving Rob behind. She murmured to Karlee who was watching a DVD and seemed oblivious to the entire stop they’d just made… although Karlee’s presence was magical in stopping Rob’s short temper. She appreciated that he cared enough to know her daughter was there, and possibly listening to him. That was the only reason he stopped. Still, he made sure Rebecca knew how stupid and insignificant he found her. She was a complete joke to Rob.

Her tears returned. The stupid tears she spent the past year not shedding. First at Joelle’s, and now because of Rob Williams? Who cared about what a washed-out drunk might think of her?

She did. She really cared.

She punched at the steering wheel. What did she expect? That she could really get published? Have a career as an author? Do anything more with her life th
an raise her three kids? If her husband hadn’t left her, that would have been the extent of her life’s ambitions.

But he did leave
her. And them. And if it weren’t for her brother, the one Rob so abhorred, what could she have done? Nick not only supported them financially, but provided everything he possibly could to make up for Rebecca’s missing husband and the girls’ absentee father.

Rob was right. She was a nobody, going nowhere. It was a stupid, impossible dream. Life should have
taught her better by now.

She hoped her daughters would someday look at her and see a woman who didn’t give up on herself for a man. She wanted them to see a woman who managed to accomplish her dreams, while raising a family too. And most of all, she wanted them to see more than a depressed housewife whose husband threw her away.

****

Rob paced inside the small elevator as it rose. He was anxious. Pissed. His rush of adrenaline kept him from caring if being there was appropriate or not. He felt very much out of place and for more th
an just because he wore sweaty construction clothes while everyone else was clad in downtown business attire. The elevator dinged, opened, and Rob stepped out. He’d been there only one other time, several years ago, when he tried to convince his wife to come back home with him.