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On the flight to Uruguay, I force myself to eat something. Maybe it was the hunger that put all kinds of weird thoughts in my head.
You were doing such a good job of moving on, Dare. Don’t let this shake you.
It takes great effort to function as normal when thoughts of Yaya keep bouncing around like a pinball machine. Or perhaps it’s more like a game of whack-a-mole. Each time I successfully squash a thought, another image of her at the fashion show or during our last date together or a conversation we had over text, will return to mind.
I thought I hid my turmoil well but, after our last meeting, Mosely pulls me aside.
“Are you okay, sir?”
“That’s the third time you’ve asked me that question today,” I grumble. “Do I not look okay?”
“You seem… distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s also the third time you’ve used those words to assure me and they sound less convincing each round.”
I glare darkly at him.
He hands over a set of keys.
“What is this?”
“Uruguay has beautiful mountain roads, perfect for a relaxing drive. As luck would have it, the local dealership is in possession of a Black Feather Rolls Royce.” Mosely pauses and waits for a reaction. When I don’t give him one, he adds, “TheBlack Feather.” A long, probing pause. “The line in which only five were manufactured.” He pauses again. “The line whereyouown one of those five.”
I flinch. The Black Feather is tied to Yaya. It was the car she destroyed when we first met. I’d always wanted her to be my passenger princess but, by the time the Rolls was fixed, we’d already gone our separate ways.
I shove the keys into Mosely’s chest. “I’m not interested.”
His eyes bug and he shuffles behind me. “Sir, you’re in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. You can’t possibly intend to hole up in a hotel room and work all evening?”
“Ifullyintend to do that.” I push the button for the elevator.
“What about the car?”
“You drive it since you’re so interested.”
He darts into the elevator behind me. I hear him tapping his fingers against his leg and breathing hard.
When I whirl around again, Mosely’s glaring at me, his eyes narrowed. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when he bursts into action. Stomping in front of me, he punches the button for the ground floor and slaps the key fob back into my hand.
“Mosely, what is this about?” I bark.
“Dare, I was your father’s assistant, and I was honored to be chosen as yours. However, unlike you, I am not a machine. I cannot live by coffee alone. I have not seen my cat infartoo long because providing support to you, a clinical work-aholic, has eaten up all my free time. Now, I went the polite route but since that isn’t working, I’ll be outright.Ineed a break. So for the love of all that is holy, go and take a drive and leave me in peace.”
I want to point out that he can retire to his own hotel room and have all the peace he wants there, but Mosely looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. Perhaps it would be wiser to just take a drive.
The elevator doors open.
I edge around my assistant and walk into the lobby. If I were younger, I’d be mumbling about Mosely needing a chill pill, but I’m a respected businessman now and not the bumbling child following my dad and his assistant around at work, so all I whisper is ‘I’ll bring back a Xanax’.
The lobby is empty except for a few tourists wearing floral dresses and T-shirts. Tropical flowers are the main decor, present in all the paintings, inspiring the wooden etchings in the bamboo chandelier, and filling the earthen vases all around the lobby.
I blow out a breath and relax my fingers. A noisy jangle fills the air and I look down, realizing I dropped the key. My head spins when I bend down to pick it up. Huh.
My body feels like it’s shutting down and my personal assistant just yelled at me, which means I’m even worse at the work-life balance thing than my father who had to be marched out of the office by his ear when mother got enough.
Cautiously, I turn back to the elevator. I could still sneak into my own room and do my work in there instead of the conference room we rented. Mosely wouldn’t know.
