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Tess exhales and shakes her head slowly as the color returns to her face.
“Girl, I don’t know what to say. I’m not exactly poster girl for avoiding workplace relations. I don’t know how you feel about him, but I’m kind of hurt you didn’t tell me sooner. Also, I can’t entirely blame you. I told you to go for it that night at the party. I hadn’t imagined it would lead to sex but I wanted you to loosen up. I’m not judging you, though. You’re a fully grown adult.”
I can see Tess circling and trying to find the right things to say and I feel bad for putting her on that position.
“Tess, it’s okay. None of this is your fault and you don’t have to rationalize it. Honestly speaking, I won’t deny that I have real feelings for Harrison and I’m so scared. I feel like I’m way in over my head.”
I’m not sure what’s propelling me, but I start telling Tess about my insecurities with Harrison. I’m not sure how he feels about me even though I think he likes me too. And then there’s this Victoria Mendoza girl that makes me feel like a taco sandwich.
“Harrison swears he’s not sleeping with her, but I’m so sure she wants him badly. They keep disappearing from the office at the same times and then he came over to me to the other day and we made love. I think he’s playing both of us. I think he’s…”
The shuffling sound of Roscoe’s flats becomes louder.
“Sorry, ladies, didn’t mean to take so long.” Roscoe bustles back into room and Tess and I dramatically rearrange ourselves, picking up our cutleries like robots.
Roscoe notices the switch up.
“Uh, is everything all right? Why are you two acting weird?”
Tess covers up quickly. “It’s nothing, really. Charlee is so stressed from everything going on at Building Bridges. Harrison and his entire team are going through so much. I can’t believe how unfair all of this really is.”
Roscoe exhales and swipes a hand across his forehead.
“I feel really bad for him. Building Bridges still belongs to me, first and foremost. And my father isn’t making things any easier for him right now.”
He reclines in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. I’m watching quietly as he reflects for a while.
“Our father always seemed to have it out for Harrison. Our mom tried to make up for the lack of fatherly affection, but that kind of hurt runs deep, you know?” Roscoe picks up his fork and start doodling around in his food.
My appetite suddenly vanishes. I’m hurting badly on Harrison’s behalf.
“Harry is such a nice guy and he’s a great problem solver,” Tess says in a quiet voice. “I wish he’d stop seeking your father’s approval so much.”
Roscoe shrugs. “I know my father doesn’t try to hide that he has a soft spot for me. I can’t imagine what kind of a crazy parent would be so open with favoritism. Harrison has so many talents and has always wanted to prove himself worthy, but the old man holds him to the wrong expectations.”
“Will things ever be different for Harrison?” I ask, keeping my eyes focused on the chicken strips strewn all over my plate. If I raise my face, they may see the tears threatening to spill.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I wish more than anything that I could help him find his place in life. He has a great purpose and doesn’t even realize it. That’s why I put Building Bridges under his authority. I genuinely believe in him. I just wish he could believe more in himself.”
The rest of the dinner goes by quickly. Tess and Roscoe move onto other conversations as they enjoy their meal.
I’m struggling to shove my food down, but I have to try.
I don’t know why news of Harrison’s woes is affecting me this much, but I know I can’t keep denying my feelings for him any longer.
I really can’t keep up with that.
12
HARRISON
I’d been hoping to have a stress-free week starting this Monday, but barely ten seconds after pulling up at work, the bullshit has already begun.
Amazing.
I thought the media upheavals over our case had died down. How much longer do I have to deal with this nonsense? And who keeps letting these press idiots get through the perimeter? If I ever get through this phase in one piece, I’m not sure I’ll ever look at a reporter or a news anchor without this nerve-racking feeling of intense nausea shooting through my head.
They are everywhere today, with their vans and cameras. Some of them are talking to each other, others are speaking into the cameras, and a few are sitting on the backs of their vans, waiting for the prey to arrive.
