Flawed Page 7

  “Fuck if I know, I’ve wondered the same,” he responds. “Not to worry though, I had a friend hack into her phone and delete all her contacts.”

  Taking his phone back, he chuckles. “You’re welcome.”

  That answers the question of why she stopped calling a couple of days ago.

  “Impressive. I didn’t know I was more important than world domination.” Resting my elbow on top of the table, I lay my chin on top of my hand. “You interrupted your mission to check on me?”

  He shakes his head, tapping the table with both hands. “Fitz declared this an emergency. I had to believe him.”

  I tell him about Willow, the woman I met during a serendipitous encounter the night Jensen was off and I worked late. His eyes never waver as I continue to explain everything about her relationship with Hazel. How she convinced me to give Willow a chance, to change the way I date. The tale continues with the few encounters we’ve experienced. Including her mercurial personality. Studying his face, I can’t read if he’s worried, approving of Willow, or plain bored with what I have been saying for the past hour. He hasn’t interrupted once.

  “You went into Mom’s room?” The first question he asks is the hardest.

  Swallowing hard, I nod once. My eyes land on the glass of water in front of me. Please don’t talk about it. Please forget I mentioned it.

  “That’s a big step, kid.” His tone switches to something more mature, like an old guy who has taken over the body of my oldest brother. He’s almost ten years older than I am. He’s wiser than a thirty-seven-year-old dude and a pain in the ass when he tries to be a paternal figure.

  “Ileana, when did you know you loved her?” That’s the name of the cheating bitch Harrison used to date.

  His torso leans backward, as if I’ve punched him in the face. “Why are we talking about her?”

  I crack my knuckles, sitting back. “Trying to figure out my feelings for Willow is hard for me. Since you were about to tie the knot with her, I’m wondering . . .”

  “How did I know?”

  He looks up to the ceiling, then diverts his gaze to the floor to ceiling window facing the Brooklyn Bridge, before he finally stands up to walk toward it.

  “We met during orientation day at NYU.” While he is looking outside, he holds his hands behind his back. My heart stops as Harrison takes that same posture Dad used to have when he was telling Mom about his day. “I saw a pretty, funny girl. We talked during lunch and kissed by the end of the day. After that, we fell into a dating pattern. Our parents liked her, and she was there for me when they died. I thought she was perfect. Her letters while I was away never missed a beat. She wrote the perfect words. Before each deployment, she said the right things. And, physically she looked like Mom.”

  “Mom?” I clear my throat. “I don’t recall her looking like Mom. Though, I can’t remember your ex that well. It was years ago.”

  “Dark-blonde hair, skinny, tall, and flawless,” he explains without changing his tone. It’s like he’s briefing me about his latest mission. “In my eyes, she was just . . . perfect.”

  I freeze as he turns around and narrows his gaze. “This Willow girl, how would you describe her?”

  “Flawed?” I don’t hesitate to think. “There’s something dark inside her. She tries to hide it and pushes away those who can see it.”

  He rubs his stubble. “Hazel and Grant Beesley are close to our family. Why would you want to jeopardize our relationship with them?”

  “Fitz,” I grunt like a wounded animal. “You’re listening to him.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m worried about you. From what I hear, you’re confronting your demons. The last time you did that a friend of mine had to bail you out of jail.”

  Bail me out of jail was the tip of the iceberg. I faced my fear of flying. Unfortunately, I decided to go by myself without telling anyone. As the captain said we are thirty-thousand feet above ground, I had a full-blown panic attack. Attacking a marshal, insulting the flight attendants, and causing havoc by threatening to open the emergency door, is taken seriously by the US Department of Defense and many other federal departments.

  “You can’t fly commercial. My boss called a few favors to take you off of the No-Fly list,” Harrison reminds me.

  I should add that TSA had my mug shot for several months. Since then, I fly private jets and only in the company of at least one of my brothers or Jensen. Not because I still fear flying, but because it’s how my brother’s boss wants it. In a way, I owe the man my freedom.

  “You have to meet her,” I defend myself. “This isn’t an attempt to show I’m strong. Explaining Willow is complicated. She’s perfect in a way I can’t explain. The connection is real and inexplicable.”

  Knowing him, my next statement is going to cause at least a growl or a black eye. “You plan on going through life saving others. Missing what our parents had. I want that. Their perfect, loving relationship.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You think they were perfect?” Closing his eyes briefly, he chuckles. “Mom and Dad had many fights. You just don’t recall them.” Rubbing his temples, he nods. “But I do. From things like Mom’s habit of spending hours in her studio working to serious shit.”

  “What kind?” I’m confused.

  “I heard them say the word divorce several times,” he continues, running a hand through his hair. “Their communication would be short, quipped, and scary.”

  “No, you’re wrong.”

  Turning around, he looks at the horizon one more time. “Dad would apologize for being an idiot. They’d travel upstate to the cabin and come back like a newlywed couple.”

  I do remember those times when they’d disappear for a weekend, coming back holding hands and laughing.

  “Dad always said Mom brought the best out of him. He loved her flaws more than he loved her positive qualities. Even when they drove him crazy.” I’m enthralled by this new page in the story of our parents’ history. I missed out on more adult conversations because I wasn’t old enough when they died. “After the anger of losing our parents, and the bitch cheating on me, subsided, I understood what he tried to tell me the day I said I wanted to marry her. He liked Ileana. However, he didn’t see her as the woman I should be with. He didn’t say it in so many words though, but he said, ‘don’t do anything stupid. You should wait until your heart speaks to you.’”

  Every word connects as the light bulb illuminates the top of my head. “You think I’m planning on marrying her tomorrow?”

  He tilts his head to the left, lifting his shoulder slightly. “I just want to make sure you’re not searching for that perfect woman who will fulfill the family you plan to have.”

  Walking to the door, he turns around and says, “It’s her flaws that will tell you if she’s the woman you’re meant to be with.”

  From all the lectures and memories he’s shared with me, this is the craziest of them all. The conversation about my parents’ relationship is confusing. It’s as if he wants me to learn a lesson. He’s like Mr. Miyagi or Professor Dumbledore. I don’t care if any of my brothers approve of Willow. The thing between us is already confusing as fuck. Who needs to deal with the three of them? Not me.

  Hunter: Want to go for dinner tonight?

  Willow: As long as we don’t eat meat.

  Hunter: Are you vegetarian?

  That’s odd, I remember sharing a supreme meat pizza when we went out on a date.

  Willow: No, I’m on a diet. No grains, no meat, pork, or cheese.

  Hunter: Why?

  Willow: I have an audition on Friday.

  Hunter: Congratulations?

  Willow: Never say that, you’re jinxing it. I hope you didn’t ruin my chance.

  Hunter: Sorry.

  I could bring up the obvious. My text can’t jinx her audition. Following my own dating advice though, I agree with her and go to my office. Tonight, I’m leaving at six. Tonight, I have a date with Willow. If either one of my brother
s doesn’t like it, well, too bad.

  Nine

  Kindness

  Be kind. For everyone is fighting a battle. ~ Anonymous.

  Some hate the concept of insomnia. For me, it’s the best recipe for my emotional dysregulation. When I’m tired, my entire body—including my mind—is lethargic. Some days, I have trouble getting out of bed. Work pushes me to do what I feel is impossible, waking up and showering. The great thing about being an actress is becoming my character and forgetting the turmoil going on inside of me. As I work in an office, greeting people all day long, having an emotional imbalance isn’t ideal. Behaving like a nutcase in front of my grandfather, who by the way hates me as much as he hates my mother, is out of the question.

  If my system crashes, I hope it happens on a weekend after I quit this ridiculous job. Why did I agree to this? Dealing with so many people and pretending to be blissful all the time is draining. When I do it while singing and dancing, it’s enjoyable. Behind this stupid desk, not so much. The elevator dings, the doors open, and Hunter ‘clean-cut’ Everhart is the first thing, beaming toward me.

  “Ready to go, gorgeous?” I raise an eyebrow, wondering why he’s here. Tapping his wrist, he mouths, it’s late.

  I look down, checking the clock on the computer screen. “Six already?”

  “You can guess the time?”

  “Of course, I’m also a magician.” I wrinkle my nose, move my hand in like doing a hocus pocus kind of wand waving and wink at him.

  He comes closer, discovering my secret. “Cheater.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose, tapping the top of the desk that mocks an evening news set. Only, if someone steps close enough, they can see the monitor through the glass. The keyboard is under the screen. I can either pull out the tray where it’s installed or guess the keys I should type. If I’m bored, I do the latter.

  “If you say so. Where do you want to go today?”

  I open my mouth when the crackling sound of the intercom makes me jolt. They have to fix this thing. I swear my grandfather has had this instrument since the Nixon era. It clashes with the modern décor. The museum of history would be an excellent place to preserve it. There are many other ways to communicate with the reception, why wouldn’t he use them?

  “Willow, before you leave, can I see you in my office?”

  I stare at the black box, waiting for something more. A reprimand for taking an extra hour during lunch earlier. Did I forget to leave a note saying I was meeting my agent? Checking my phone, I reread the exchange I had with Hazel earlier today. She said there wouldn’t be a problem as long as I told him. My little sister insists I’m too sensitive. He isn’t the ogre our mother painted him out to be while we were growing up.

  Hazel hasn’t heard him talk about our mother, or she doesn’t care. He insists she’s bad for Dad. They’ve been together for years, have two children, and are happy. How can he continue saying such stupid things? Reminding myself Hazel begged me to be good, I leave my post, heading to his office. I stop right in front of the sliding doors and look over my shoulder.

  “This won’t take long,” I promise Hunter, who is walking around the desk and taking a seat.

  He waves his hand. “Go ahead, Low, I’ll be here monitoring the phones.”

  Giving him a quizzical look, I have to ask, “Have you done it before?”

  “Of course, our company has a reception, too. I have done almost every job, including working in the mailroom.”

  I open my mouth to ask him questions. There’s so much I haven’t learned about him, but the intercom crackles again. Damn, the man needs to learn patience. I hurry before he yells about me taking my sweet time.

  I walk down the hall to the corner office protected by a set of double doors, like a fortress where the evil emperor reigns his empire. I chuckle at my thoughts, hating that Hazel is right in my head. Wiggling the handle, I push the door open at the same time as I enter the room. Passing through the threshold, I’m struck by the vast space decorated with a modern vibe blended with a few classic objects. Like his big, dark, wooden desk. Best of all is the view of the Manhattan skyline as the sunset creates a relaxing atmosphere, yet makes him look as powerful as I’ve come to believe he is.

  Taking a moment, I study his gray hair and bright, green eyes. They look so much like mine. For me, it’s scary to believe we’re related. Unlike my sister, I have his eyes. Surely, he’d rather see them in my sibling than me.

  Shut up, Willow, you sound petty.

  “What can I do for you?”

  He takes off his reading glasses, setting them on top of the table. Though he doesn’t smoke, his office smells faintly of tobacco and coffee. It’s the potpourri Hazel bought for him. She says it gives him character. Which is something I have a hard time understanding. Their relationship, or why she thinks our grandfather needs some kind of scent. For me, it’s better not to have a defined smell for every person I meet or place I live. Some memories hit harder when they’re brought back with an aroma of a person. It’s painful and jarring.

  “HR is asking about your status with the company.”

  “Temporary, I have an audition on Friday,” I say to indicate he doesn’t have to worry about me. “In case you’re wondering, I’ll move out of your apartment as soon as the first check clears.”

  “Willow,” he begins, folding his arms, his green eyes staring right at me. “I understand you and I have had our differences in the past.”

  “You hate me.” I stand up straight, covering the crumbling woman inside of me. Today, I won’t allow him to push me to the ground. This is my positive wave, it has to last at least until after my audition. Also, I have to remind myself this is important for Hazel. I promised my sister I’d behave while working here. She’s the only person who understands me, and I have to do everything in my power to keep her happy. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

  His nostrils flare, standing up from his throne, he marches toward me, walking around me to shut the door.

  “You are an adult. I expect you to listen like one.” He shows me the leather couch, indicating I should sit.

  He takes a seat on the wooden table. Very unlike my grandfather. We’re only inches apart, and I feel trapped. I’m about to be chastised for not being what he expects from someone who carries his last name.

  “I’m not the scoundrel of a man your mother has made me out to be,” he starts, his eyes soft, unlike his voice.

  “You describe her as an undeserving woman.”

  Shaking his head, he rests his elbows on top of his thighs. “Look, your parents need to have a conversation with the two of you and clear what really happened between us.”

  “What do you mean?” I lean back, my eyes widening. “She always says you don’t like her. You reject her and her life.”

  His brows rise, those eyes searching for something. I want to hide, just like I want to show him that he means nothing to me. “My relationship with them is independent of the one I’ve tried to build with you for years.” His voice sounds shaky, his posture doesn’t change.

  “We don’t have a relationship,” I remind him of the obvious. Those hurt eyes and small gasp are the second surprise of the conversation.

  I catch my lower lip between my teeth, looking toward the open window. Watching the sun go down and begging for it to take me down with it.

  “You are too proud, Willow.” The corners of his lips stretch slightly into an almost smile that disappears. “That’s the one thing you shouldn’t have inherited from me.”

  The next hours, or maybe seconds, pass with the two of us staring at each other. This uncomfortable silence is worse than the exchange of insults we’ve had throughout the years. What’s next? I’m at an impasse, tongue tied, and ready to bolt. What if I move into Hunter’s to avoid my family?

  Earth to Willow, you can’t just pack your shit, and move in with a guy you barely know. What the hell is wrong with you?

  I look at my grandfather. He is what’s
wrong with me today. The one suffocating my flame and sending me to the darkness.

  “My point is that I want you to stay in the apartment for as long as you need to stay. I have plenty of room,” he says. “HR just got cleared to give you benefits. Even if you quit, you’ll keep them. Our medical insurance is top-notch.”

  “Benefits?” I struggle to hide the wide-eyed disbelief. Recalling that nothing comes for free in Grant’s world, I get to the point. “What do you want in exchange?” My voice comes off, almost cruel. I guess we have more things in common than I thought.

  He clears his throat before standing up from his seat. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

  “Then who is?” I demand he explain, standing up so I’m not at his mercy. “Am I? Are you blaming my mother?”

  “Life. Circumstances.” I give him a don’t bullshit me look. “Blaming them isn’t going to help my case. We all handled the situation poorly. I wish you’d give me a chance the way Hazel has.”

  “She only came to you because you gave her no choice.” I pulled the knife out of my pocket and stabbed him deeply. “You had the money to pay her tuition at any school. Instead, you made her come to you. She could be happy in San Francisco. Like with my parents, you decided her future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you gave more money to Dad, he’d come to us more often,” I state the obvious, closing my case.

  He ruined our lives since we were little. If Hazel had stayed in California, she’d still be with Elliot—maybe.

  “Willow, listen to yourself. It’s not my responsibility to support your parents. You think I’m the one who keeps your parents away from you?” His shoulders slump. He deflates and changes from the most powerful man I’ve ever seen in my life and morphs into a regular, broken person. “That’s not the case, Willow. My only regret was not fighting them when you were younger. I wish I had fought, so instead of being with the neighbors for months at a time, you’d have been with me while they were gone.”