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Be normal, I chant in my head. Just look at him like any other person.
If I wasn’t sitting down, my knees would have given out. I don’t know if I’m being convincing enough to come across as a good mix of concerned and indifferent, or if he can see in my eyes that he’s the only thing I ever want to look at.
Anger? Frustration? Passion? What do his say?
Trying to decipher that dark look and the way his jaw is clenched, I honestly don’t know if I care. Being looked at by him, existing in a moment of his day, is too great a reward to worry about what’s behind his stormy expression.
“Sorry about that. Here it is, Pete.”
Heather’s voice is a distracting background noise as we remain unflinching, engaged. Self-consciousness creeps in, though. Heather is my boss, and I don’t want to cause a scene. Clearing my throat, I fix my attention back on my computer screen, face burning.
“Pete?” Heather calls, holding out a paper.
He sets it on her desk and signs it. My guess is that he’s acknowledging his leave balance being changed again, increased by his rejected donation.
Thanking her, he turns on his heel and leaves. The room gets smaller, or maybe gravity gets stronger. I’m a mass that doesn’t fit in this space any longer now that he’s gone.
When I feel eyes on me, I glance over my shoulder. Heather looks equal parts curious and cautious.
“Not one of the fun parts of the job,” she manages, looking guilty. Waving her hand, she adds, “It is what it is, though.”
I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know she’s either talking about Randy’s decision or is embarrassed for almost mentioning him in front of me.
“I’m not my brother,” I blurt. My unexpected statement seems to hit us both at the same time. “Just because you’re related to someone doesn’t mean you agree with everything they do,” I explain, but I don’t want her to take that as an offense on my part. Flashing her a sympathetic smile, I add, “I’m sorry.”
Shaking her head, she returns it. “You’re not your brother,” she concurs softly.
While her words comfort me that our work relationship hasn’t suffered, I don’t feel any better. I’m not my brother, but what good does it do me? I’m still a Fairway, a Fairway at Fairway Foods.
I try to work through my emails, sending special leave request forms out to those who asked and scheduling retirement interviews for workers who are eligible, but I don’t even know if I attached the correct forms. I’m too hung up on the best threat I ever received being the greatest test of my integrity.
‘The next time you look at me like that, this will be my cock.’
The world sure knows how to tempt a person. Sighing, I rub my eyes, hoping it will jump start some semblance of focus. I went from a disaster plan to being a disaster without a plan.
My phone chimes with an alert. If it’s my mother asking me to come to another dinner, I’m leaving work early and claiming I have something contagious.
PETE: 8 o’clock.
CHAPTER 16
Pete
Adjusting my tie, I take another sip of my drink to calm my nerves and force myself to sit down on the loveseat. I hate hotel rooms. I feel itchy already even though this hotel room, by all appearances, looks to be clean. I can’t shake the sensation of discontent with the space. Maybe it’s that stupid orchid on the coffee table. It doesn’t look centered from this angle.
Leaning forward, I slide it a fraction to the left, but then realize what I’ve done. This is silly. I should move it back. Cam won’t be as bothered by its placement as I am.
If he even shows up…
He said he would, though. Checking my messages for the tenth time, I need to make sure I didn’t imagine things.
ME: 8 o’clock.
ME: I’ll send a car to pick you up and give them the address.
CAM: Ok
That was almost seven hours ago, right after lunch, when Heather asked me to come in and sign off on my leave adjustment. One sight of his face when he finally looked up at me destroyed any resolve that I had about staying away from him. Did ok turn into no way since then?
