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December 23, 6:42 p.m. 22 seconds
(Levi Stadium, Santa Clara)
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“It’s been 4 years since you’ve seen a shrink. You need to go again,” Evan said to Kyle, his eyes critical and lips curled.
“Lower your voice.” Kyle looked around to make sure no one else was listening.
They sat on the balcony of one of the premier sky suites at Levi Stadium in Santa Clara. Kyle had taken all of BirdsEye’s engineers to see a Bengals versus 49ers game for their timely project delivery of Kronos. In most big companies, the unobtrusive engineers usually got swept away by the tide of the self-publicizing business teams. But not at BirdsEye. Kyle valued the infinite output of his diligent engineers and every fiscal quarter, (aside from hefty bonuses) he gave them an unforgettable gift. Evan had booked several VIP sky suites atop Levi’s Stadium to make sure BirdsEye engineers had a one-of-a-kind viewing experience.
Standing by Kyle’s seat, Evan was nursing a beer. “What do you see?”
“A recurring daydream about Chloe.”
“Time you paid Dr. Buckley another visit. Shall I have Stella set it up?”
“No. And no. I’m done with this topic.” Kyle’s lips were a tight line and he dug deeper in the leather couch trying to focus on the game in the field.
“What do you see?”
“I see the Bengals will clinch a playoff spot today.”
“Kyle.”
“Evan, will you shut up if I tell you?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. Her body. I see her body in the water. Broken, like when I identified it at the Marin County coroner. It’s nothing serious. I’ll get over it.”
“Listen, just because mental stuff is invisible doesn’t mean it is Santa’s Unicorn.” Evan sat down next to Kyle, worry creasing his tanned forehead. “You need to find a way to get Chloe out of your system. Unless you get her out, you cannot let Juniper in.”
“For the love of all that’s holy, why did I even tell you?”
“You did not tell me, I guessed. You have bleary, squinty red eyes and you've been a miserable, cranky bastard all week. Go see a shrink.”
A shrink? He didn’t want to go down that road again. Too many memories.
Too many sunken things floating to the surface.
Kyle saw himself 5 years, 6 months, 7 days and 33 hours ago from this day sitting in the shrink’s office.
Dr. Brad Buckley had a lot of questions. Do you often think this way: I need to have complete control of my feelings, or things could go wrong? Do you often think that you need to control other people around you or things could go wrong?
When Kyle had answered affirmative to both questions, the doctor had pursed his lips and scribbled away. Kyle had wondered what he’d written and made up his own version.
Kyle Paxton is a borderline sociopath. He has an antisocial personality. Good at manipulating situations and people. Pathologically egocentric and incapable of love. Ergo: No romantic relationships. No partnerships. Not even team sports. Nor familial relationships. Cut-off from family. Talks of childhood trauma. Talks of girlfriend’s death. Feels culpable.
The doctor dissolved and Kyle shook his head.
I’m different now. Juniper makes me better.
But it’s not her job to make you a better person.
True.
Then he saw Evan was waiting for an answer. Kyle looked at the center midfield where the action was concentrated. “Don’t need a shrink.”
“You do.”
“Go away.”
“I am not going away. You need to face your demon.”
Face my demon? Chloe is not a demon. I am her demon.
“Speaking of demons. Have you seen this?” Evan pulled up a document on his phone and thrust it under Kyle’s nose. Sylvia had just given her notice after an internal investigation found her guilty of sharing proprietary information with Chad the Douche.
Kyle’s frown deepened. “Good riddance.”
“You know what this means. She will most likely join Cirrus and Chad will join her anti-Kyle cartel.”
Kyle let out a string of colorful expletives. “They deserve each other. Evan, we came here to watch the game. Now let’s freaking do a normal thing for once in our lives.”
“You watch the game. I’m only here for Colin Kaepernick,” Evan said with a grin. A cheer rose up and Evan rushed to join the others at the rooftop railing.
Face contorted, Kyle looked out at the lime green field. He did not want to think about Sylvia. Or Chloe. He wanted a memory knife to cut Chloe out of his mind.
Removing...
Enter Juniper.
In two days, he would see her at his father’s house. On Christmas. The idea of his Juniper, who was clear as spring water, trapped in a mansion with the soulless Paxtons was straight out of a B-grade horror film. But his need to see her and to introduce her as his own trumped his fears.
The past three days—or 2 days, 22 hours, 8 minutes and 47 seconds—without her had been Misery with a capital M. His calculator mind started a countdown, ticking down like a digital explosive device. Life without her seemed pointless, dry and tedious—as if he were stuck in a Guantanamo Bay cell watching paint dry for years.
Soon.
Just one more day till he flew out to Ann Arbor. 2 whole days, 0 hours, 36 minutes and 28 seconds till he saw her. He hated that he would land at his father’s doorstep 21 hours before he saw her. Juniper had insisted on it. He wished he could turn up at her apartment, spend time with her, meet her family, and do the things normal boyfriends and girlfriends did.
He wished she felt comfortable enough with him to let him in.
What was he—a vampire waiting for human permission to be invited in?
Maybe, she wasn’t letting him in because he had made himself unavailable from day one. He had been relationship gun-shy. Emotionally unavailable.
Unavailable? To the most important person in my life?
Well, that had to change. Now. He frowned at the seven-layer guacamole dip. He dipped a huge chip in it and crunched.
Evan traipsed back, grimacing. “You said the food was rotten and nasty.”
“Now it’s delicious. I need your help in planning something.”
“No can do. I’m going on vacation tomorrow. Ask Stella.”
“It’s for Juniper.”
Evan plopped his beer down and sat down again, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Yes, can do.”
