After eating and getting some much-needed rest without Max looming over me, I stepped off the plane and entered a limo, which took me to my rented cottage. St. John had the good sense not to insist that I meet him. What am I saying? It’s not about me. Maybe he had something important to do besides babysit me. Maybe he had companies to run and places to go and people to see.
I was excited to be in familiar surroundings without the pressures that Max usually laid on me. I put the key in the door, and before it could fully open, there stood Joshua. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on your way to San Francisco.”
“I called and asked your roommate, Crystal, and by the way, why didn’t you tell me you had a roommate and that she was so yummy?”
“Yummy?” I said, giving Joshua a second look. “What, are you a candy maker now?” He appeared embarrassed and bit his lip. I knew what he meant; I guess I was a little jealous because he usually heaped attention on me. Maybe I was falling into thinking that everything was about me, and clearly it wasn’t.
“I was just saying that she is gorgeous.” He reached to kiss me, and I ignored him.
“Where is she?” I passed Josh, scurrying in the direction of Crystal’s room. I noticed the rumpled bed. Not that this was unusual for her, but it was a bit messier than I expected—pillows, sheets, and a blanket on the floor, and her bra slung around the headboard. I turned to see Joshua standing behind me, wide eyed.
“She had to run to the drugstore for something.” His voice was shaky.
“How long have you been here? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know,” I said with a raised eyebrow. I noticed that Joshua had his bags in the corner of the dining area. One had been opened, and shirts hung out. “I would offer you a place to stay, but there are only two bedrooms in this cottage. And we know how you like the good life.”
“I’ve already made myself at home. You see…” Joshua hadn’t completed his thought when Crystal entered, looking like the fox caught in the henhouse.
“Hi, Alex. I thought you were staying longer with Mr. Blackstone, or did you go off with St. John?” Before I could gesture to her, she had already let the cat out of the bag.
“What is this about going off with St. John?”
“Oh, that’s nothing, Josh, Besides, it is none of your business,” I said, looking at Crystal, and then my glare fell on Joshua.
“Yes it is,” Crystal said before she looked at me and had time to think. She had an annoying habit of talking constantly.
“Don’t you know that he’s Max’s fiercest competitor? They have been at each other’s throats for years. You’re playing a dangerous game, Alex,” Joshua added.
“I’m just getting help from him. I have to do something about Max and my son.”
“I told you before: you can’t win this with Max.”
“Well, at least I can even the odds. He will know he has been in a fight.”
“There are some fights not worth getting into, and this is one of them,” he warned.
Crystal had left during the first round of our conversation. She was a girl that just wanted to have fun, and there was no fun in discussing men who she felt she couldn’t get close to. I had never seen her walk into the kitchen, let alone prepare any food. I had never even seen her take out a plate or a pot, but I did smell meat cooking. She stuck her head out and said, “I’ve set the table, and your steak and potatoes are ready, Joshua. Just the way you like.” The way she pronounced his name and giggled, I knew that they had been intimate. Joshua leapt up from the couch and glided over to the oak table in the dining area, where an arch separated it from the living room.
“I’ll pass,” I said, walking into my room and closing the door. I could only take so much of new love, especially since mine had soured and so soon. Lying around looking up at the ceiling made life a little clearer. I had peace and quiet to think. No sooner had these thoughts crossed my mind, I received a text from St. John.
Alex,
My driver informed me that you arrived without any problems and you are home. I have this job lined up for you and all you have to do is show up on Monday. You will receive an e-mail shortly.
Charles
***
The e-mail came as promised. I made a call to Montana to speak to Maxim. He wanted to know why I didn’t wake him, and he said that he loved me and wanted me to come be with him and “Daddy.” I explained that I had to go to work and would see him soon. He appeared to be happy with that explanation.
With more on my mind than I could process, I managed to wake up early Monday morning for my new job. I passed Crystal’s room and peeped in. Joshua had made himself at home. I sighed because they looked so typical as they slept. Her head nudged into his chest. Not like me and Max. As I walked out of the door, I saw a sleek limo in front of my door. I sauntered down the stairs and made a right on the sidewalk, heading for my Volkswagen, but to my surprise the driver stepped out of the car.
“Ms. Bishop, I was sent by Mr. St. John. He felt that it would be easier if I were to drive you to work.”
“Tell Mr. St. John that I can find my way.”
The dark window slid down, and Charles St. John’s face appeared. “I wanted you to arrive on time and be relaxed on your first day.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. St. John, but I prefer to drive myself.”
“No pressure, Alex. Do as you wish.” He raised the window, and the driver entered the car and drove away.
I arrived at the bank; its steel facade and tinted windows overlooked Seattle’s downtown. I was directed to parking for employees. I exited my Beetle, and the attendant gave me a faint smile. Driving into the garage I had glanced at the parked cars. There were no used Volkswagen bugs other than mine. There appeared to be every make and model of Mercedes, BMWs, Porsches, and Audis; it was a car enthusiast’s playground. Maybe St. John was trying to save me from being embarrassed. But I had long ago passed the embarrassment stage in my life.
Losing that part of me was the most liberating thing that could happen to me, and as far as the car, as long as it took me where I wanted to go and brought me home, I was a happy camper. The car was the least of my worries.
I entered the lobby, with its old-world charm, which was the opposite of the outer building. The outside appeared to have been newly built, yet the inside suited individuals that were used to money. I had to check my clothing to make sure I was dressed appropriately. Thank God for a black suit and white shirt I had leftover from working for Max.
Holding on to the e-mail directions, I entered the elevator and landed on the floor that said Insurance. After handing in my information at the front desk, I was instructed to sit to my left on the large L-shaped sofa. A young man of about twenty-five came in and shook my hand.
“My name is Sean and I’m head of this division.” I introduced myself and bounded behind him into a large, impressive office. He was dressed in a blue striped suit with a light blue tie. I glanced at his shoes. Never had I seen a shine like that on his black bespoke shoes—that is, until I met Max. He probably had one of the high-end BMWs sitting in the garage next to my beat-up ten-year-old Volkswagen. He was cheerful and less formal when introducing me to the staff. Sean explained to me that I would have a mentor until I had adjusted to the culture of the company.
Everyone went about their work pretending not to notice the new hire. They appeared to be relaxed, with smiles to match. Although they worked in a highly charged atmosphere, where money was the commodity, they showed no anxiety.
When Sean brought me to my office, he introduced me to my mentor, Marianne Huntington. She was a woman in her thirties who had forgotten she was thirty and not twenty. Although she dressed in a tailored suit, the skirt was short, and her heels were about four to six inches. I was reminded of my employment at Blackstone. However, she appeared to be a go-getter and a woman who didn’t depend on her looks for advancement. I admired her and hoped to earn my way, I explained.
“Ms. Bishop, this is your office. It is a bit small, but you have room to move up the ladder if you do as I ask and follow the rules. I believe in following the rules,” she said with a pleasant smile. “You should dot all your i’s and cross all your t’s, if you know what I mean. Make sure you observe and pay attention to details,” she said, gazing over her black designer reading glasses.
I felt that she was looking through me. I had overlooked the wording of contracts with Max that had a profound effect on my life, and I would be damned if I did that again.
“If you make a mistake in this business, this company can lose millions. A misplaced comma could cost you your job. So if you value your job, you will listen to me and consult me if something is vague or you don’t recognize a signature.”
After she had given me the usual speech that all newcomers received, Marianne sent me down to pick up a packet of paperwork for new employees and sign off on my pay scale. I was happy to be working a day job and not spending my nights in a cocktail lounge. What other choice do I have? I rationalized. The cocktail job paid more than most day jobs I was interviewing for, but that would not have helped me in family court with Max. Now I have a career that pays a good salary and I feel great about everything.
Waiting for the elevator to arrive, I felt a sense of euphoria and freedom wash over me. A careful smile slid over my face. I stepped nervously into the elevator, not looking around, and faced the door. The elevator was large and filled with men and women. I heard their chatter and the word St. John. Then I heard a voice cut through the bodies standing behind me. “Ms. Bishop, I see you made it, and by the look on your face you are happy to be working with our family.”
I turned, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Mr. St. John, but I didn’t see you.”
“I know. But you are happy to be in my employment?”
“Indeed I am, Mr. St. John.”
“Call me Charles.” I felt eyes apprise me and just as quickly avert their glances. One woman standing behind Charles nudged her colleague in the side.
A small smile crossed my lips, and I said, “Well, Charles, this is my floor.”
I heard him say, “Have a terrific day, Ms. Bishop.”
Before the door closed, I blurted out, “Call me Alex.” And the door eased slowly closed. I caught sight of his handsome face, his blue eyes lingering long over me. He had chosen to let his staff see that he had an interest in me. That didn’t put a damper on my day, but the call from Max did.
I picked up my phone without checking it.
“Alex, I tried contacting you. What are you doing now? My security officers said that they saw you entering St. John’s private jet. Are you all right?”
“I’m perfectly fine. As a matter of fact, I haven’t felt this good in years.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been unhappy with you, Max. You know what the problem is. I don’t have time to go through this again. We have been down that road too many times.”
“If you want me to change, I will. Tell me what to do.” I could hear the desperation in his voice, but I had heard it more times than I cared to think about. Nevertheless there appeared to be a hollow in his heart that he could not fill. I would not risk trying to fill his need because it would lead to an unending circle of circumstances.
“It’s more than that. I want my son with me and I need time away from you.”
“Come back and we will discuss Maxim.”
“I can’t come now; I’ve just started a new job.”
“Who gave you a job?”
“No one gave me a job. You see? You think someone had to give me something.”
“Was it St. John?”
“I have to go, Max.”
“I’m flying my…” I didn’t wait to hear the rest of his conversation. I had to get to work and I didn’t need the bad karma.
Glancing over the papers on my desk, I was careful to read each one thoroughly, but before I could complete them, Marianne entered my office. “Are you ready for lunch?”
“Yes. Where is the employees’ cafeteria?”
“Honey, only nerds and the seriously underpaid people eat there. Have you seen what your starting salary is? Anyone who gets up to this floor is paid an obscene amount of money. In three months you will be making what I make, and we are talking six figures, my dear.” My eyes opened wide. “Now get off your pretty ass, and let’s go to lunch.” She practically pushed me out of the door. We climbed into the elevator with all the other seriously overpaid men and women exiting the building. Some of them went left, but we went right.
We walked one block west and entered into a lobby. Inside the lobby a large sign read, blackstone. “Are we eating here?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable.
“Yes, they have some of the best steaks in Seattle. Besides, you will not see anyone from St. John’s businesses because of the feud going on between Mr. Blackstone and Charles. I hear it’s about a woman,” she whispered.
“How is it that you brave the treacherous waters?”
“Hey, I like that,” she said. “You and I are going to get along great.” We sat at the bar. I felt exhilarated, so I ordered a glass of red wine at Marianne’s insistence.
“We work hard, and we play hard. On Fridays a few of us will go out dancing and drinking. It’s expected. It’s our team-building night. Are you game?”
“Sure.”
Since I turned twenty-one I’d had Maxim, college, and getting a job to worry about, which left little time for anything else. Now was the time to enjoy my life, but the guilt of leaving my child with my parents and not disclosing who the father was weighed heavily on my conscience. There is freedom in disclosure but not peace. Since Max discovered that he was the father, my life felt as if I had fallen into a cauldron of boiling water.
A waiter showed us to a table, where he promptly brought our drinks. Marianne had an infectious personality and was a regular there, and she knew everyone from the bartender to the busboys. I wasn’t sure if she had invited me to garner deep, dark secrets for Charles or if she was just trying to be kind to the new hire at Charles’s command.
Marianne loved wine, and she ordered from the wine list, an expensive, decadent wine that cost plenty and was sure not to get us drunk no matter how many drinks we consumed, she assured me.
After the first glass was poured and I watch Marianne drink, I asked her a question.
“Tell me about Mr. St. John.”
Marianne looked at me and paused. “All I know is he is a damn good boss.”
“I heard he lost his wife.”
“Yes, she was a saint. A beautiful young woman when she died. Not even forty years old when she got cancer. He was such a wreck when that happened. His hair turned gray. He became a recluse for a time. That was four years ago. For such a virile and attractive man, he never tried to date or marry again. I guess he couldn’t find anyone to replace her. Until now, I hear.”
“What do you mean?”
“I understand that he is head-over-heels in love with a twenty-year-old. The gossip by the cooler is that he met her in his restaurant. Can you imagine that?” She took another gulp of wine, and her steak and my shrimp salad was set on the table.
“No, I couldn’t imagine that happening to anyone.”
“It gets better. There was an altercation between St. John and Blackstone over this little waitress, and Blackstone left in a huff. St. John took the waitress home and has been seeing her since then.”
“Really? Are you sure this information is accurate and not just office gossip?”
“Well, darling,” she drawled, “you never can be sure. You know how gossip is. Believe half of everything you hear.”
“And it travels on a fast horse,” I said. Marianne glanced up at my comment, and then she cut her steak into small pieces, throwing a glance at me with each bite.