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Jackson
February 4, 2019
***
Damn. What a weekend. To say I got completely trashed is an understatement. Friday, after I left work around four, I met up with Tristan at the bar. We threw back a couple of beers, and about an hour later, I see Amalia walking in with Paul, Amelia, and her boyfriend, Joey. It’s been over three years, but I thought the next time I’d see her, I’d feel some type of way... like horrible or bitter. Anything but the way I felt as my eyes landed on her with him. But, truth be told, I felt nothing. No sorrow, no depression, no bitterness. Nothing. She gave me an uneasy smile when she saw me, but I just tipped my bottle up to her, and she visibly relaxed. Guess she didn’t want to hurt me or whatever. Did she know that had been done when she first told me she was leaving me? Now, it doesn’t matter. I feel nothing anymore. I no longer want her back, nor do I care who she decides to screw. Obviously, she’s still with Paul three years later, so I guess it’s going well.
Hell, good for them. I can’t really say I’m happy for her and whatnot, but I do wish her the best always. I don’t feel hatred or anything negative toward her anymore. It’s over, and my heart had time to heal. It’s been long enough, and I’ve had plenty of time to mourn the end of our engagement and relationship; I was never planning on giving up on love just because this one sour relationship didn’t work out the way I thought it would.
As a matter of fact, almost a year after my break up with Amalia, I’d even started dating again. Nothing serious, of course, but I was tired of always only seeing Tristan’s butt-ass ugly mug on my spare time after work. OK, I’m lying. The girls are crazy about his boyish good looks, but c’mon. I’m a man, and I love women.
Beautiful curvy woman with ample bosoms...
But more so than that, a woman with a good heart and an awesome personality. It may sound cliché but it’s true. I’d much rather date a woman who isn’t model-beautiful but will treat me like a human being. My heart can only take but so much.
Anyway, since I had been with Amalia for so long, I knew I wasn’t ready to jump into anything serious and settle down right away. So, while I did typically look for a good heart, I did give in to looks this time around. To be fair, I let the women I dated know up front that I was only looking for casual dating at the time and nothing more. If they were cool with it, we would hang out. If they weren’t into that, we’d stop talking.
And so, three years after my break up with Amalia, here I am. Single and not giving a care in the world. I’m not currently dating anyone, but that’s all right. I’d much rather be single come Valentine’s Day in about a week, than be dating someone and have to spend tons of money on flowers, chocolates, and dinner when I have no intention to continue seeing her after a few nights out.
And this brings me to the here and now: Monday morning as I walk into Fierce and Branston. I’m technically forty-five minutes late, but being that I’ll soon be owning this place alongside my uncle, am I really late? I shrug as I walk through the front entrance carrying my white travel mug in one hand and my black leather briefcase in the other.
“Good morning, Jackson,” our friendly blue-eyed, blonde-haired receptionist, Jill, greets me, standing up with a smile. She always stands when Anthony, Uncle Jeff, or I walk in. Although, she does greet them by using their last names. Should I be a total prick and make her start calling me Mr. Fierce? I chuckle to myself but shake the thought from my head. I won’t do that, and I know it.
“Good morning, Jill. Please sit,” I say like she’s a damn dog.
She takes her seat obeying, but her eyes never leave me. I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she has a major crush on me. But she doesn’t. Does she?
Well, now that I think about it, I do always catch her looking at me from her desk. She can see right into my office from where she sits. Hmm. I wonder. Maybe she’s just being the friendly receptionist that she is. Maybe she’s just kissing my ass since she knows my uncle is in charge. Maybe.
“How was your weekend?” I ask to get the thoughts out of my head.
“It was great, thanks. And yours?” She places her left hand underneath her chin. Is she batting her eyelashes at me? Fuck, she seems genuinely interested as opposed to my asking her just to be polite. Would it look bad if I told her I got fucking wasted?
“Good, too. Relaxed at home,” I lie. But in a way, drinking until I can’t see straight is very relaxing to me. It just wasn’t done at home, which makes me think back... when had I made it back home?
Jill takes the hand from under her chin and tucks a few loose strands of her long blonde hair behind her ear. She’s a very pretty girl, but something keeps me guarded with her. I just don’t know what it is. I’ve never dated a co-worker before, and I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing. I mean, she’s a sweet girl and all, but if I were to ever get involved with anyone from the company, it wouldn’t be her. It would probably be...
“Sometimes relaxing at home is the best way to spend the weekend. Then you’re nice and refreshed for Monday morning,” she adds, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Which reminds me, you’ve got to appear in court in about,” she looks down at her computer screen, checking the time, “two hours.”
Fuck, is today already the eighth? I place my mug on top of her desk and pull out my cell phone from my pocket. Sure enough, there’s a notification from my calendar stating that I need to be at the courthouse at 11:30 a.m. today.
“Yes, you’re right. Great,” I say, putting my phone back into my pocket. I look up over to the right, but Paige’s office is closed, and I can see through the window that the lights are off.
“Paige didn’t get in yet?” I ask, averting my attention back to Jill, who is once again flashing me her near-perfect toothy grin. She’s so cute, but like a sister or a cousin type of cute.
“Oh, she was here at eight-thirty this morning. She said she’d see you in court,” Jill responds.
Of course, Paige had already been in the office and was ready for the Martinez case in court today. Yes, we’re still trying to close this case three freaking years later.
I smile back at Jill and say, “Jill, you are amazing. Thank you so much.”
I grab my coffee cup, and as I begin walking toward my office, I hear her say, “It’s always a pleasure. Always.”
I chuckle to myself and close the door to my office behind me. I’d better make sure I have everything I need to finally end the nightmare that Mr. Martinez has been living with for the past couple of years as his soon-to-be ex-wife is trying to screw him out of everything he owns. But finally, the fucking cunt-bitch is going to get what she deserves. She’s a lying, cheating whore, and today, I plan on taking her down.
I sit at my desk and quickly check my emails. At this very moment, my cell phone vibrates and chimes in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the notification in my hand. It’s a text from Paige.
Paige Allen: Did you make it to the office yet :)
I smile. She’s got great timing.
Me: Just made it to my desk, actually. You at the courthouse?
Paige Allen: Yeah, waiting inside on a bench. Got some time to kill. Figured I’d check in.
Me: I’ll be there soon.
Paige: Great. See you then.
Me: Definitely
I quickly finish going through most of the junk mail, basically trashing all of it without even opening it, and put everything I need into my briefcase. I leave my half empty mug on my desk and walk out of my office.
“Leaving already?” Jill asks before I even have a chance to lock my office door.
“Yes, going to meet Paige at the courthouse and go over some last-minute things regarding the Martinez case. You have yourself a great day, Jill,” I say, walking past her desk. Her usual glowy appearance is no longer there. She looks... disappointed?
No. No way. I’m totally losing it thinking she’s upset that I’m on my way out. She’s probably just having a busy Monday like the rest of us. The phones are typically non-stop, especially on a Monday morning, and I’m sure Uncle Jeff and Anthony are asking her to do a ton of tasks already. She may be a receptionist, but she’s also their own personal errand-runner. I don’t think I can do that to her once I’m partner.
“Thanks. Have a good one, and good luck, Jackson,” she says. A small smile now graces her face. There we go. That’s more like the Jill I’m used to.
As I walk out of the building, I head to my car and get in. Nerves and anxiety flood my body. “Damn, it’s just another divorce case. Not like it’s my first time going to court. What the fuck am I so anxious about?”
I give myself a look in the rearview mirror, buckle up my seat belt, and then take off in the direction of the municipal court.