Chapter 33: Taming Mr. Walker: Chapter 33

Charlie

One month later.

“These are what the core features will look like,” I explain, proudly tracing my fingers over the whiteboard. “We will need to do user research with our existing customers, but I know some that would love to be involved. They’ll give us honest feedback then we can refine the prototype.”

I look down at Joe and hesitate.

“Brilliant,” he says, giving me the full force of his pearly smile. How is it that every American in New York has a Hollywood smile? It’s giving me a complex.

He gets up from his seat and studies the whiteboard. “Seriously, Charlie, they are brilliant. Solid visions for the product.”

I beam up at him. Joe is classically tall, dark, and handsome. I’ve met a lot of those types in New York. It’s a sausage-fest of pearly white square-jawed muscular men. Nice to look at for a fleeting second, but they did nothing to mend my shredded heart.

It’s the first smile that has reached my eyes in weeks. Since before the night I found Julie crying on the sofa.

“Will you be able to do a prototype with these?”

“Absolutely. We’ll work on them tomorrow and showcase them to Karl on Thursday?”

“Sure.” I smile happily at him. “It’s wine time now, isn’t it?”

“I sincerely think so.” He grins back. “I’ll go grab the others, OK?”

I nod as I clear up in the room and put my laptop away. I look at my watch and see it’s 7 p.m. It’s nearly midnight at home, probably too late to call Tristan back. This past week, we have missed each other’s calls.

I walk over to the wall-to-ceiling windows as I do every night and stare out.

It’s my evening ritual. It doesn’t matter how late I work, I always have time to finish the workday with this. It’s the only time I feel a sense of stillness.

We are on the twentieth floor, and I’ll never get used to the Manhattan Skyline in the dark, the colourful lights of the skyscrapers dancing off each other. In the distance, I can see the iconic Rockefeller Center. Apparently, in a few weeks’ time, we’ll be able to see the Christmas tree. Working here every day with this background? It never gets old.

“Are you ready, Charlie?” Joe puts a hand on my shoulder and drags me from my daze. “We’re heading to Dead Rabbit.”

I nod, put on my coat, and then pick up my hat and scarf. I hesitate as I always do, smelling the hint of the scent there before. The smell of our weekend beside the fire in Shetland. I wear them every day here, not just because the New York winters are brutal, but because, in some far-fetched way, they make me feel close to him.

“What are we eating?” I hesitantly ask.

He shrugs. “We’ll eat at Dead Rabbit.”

I let out a groan. “Look, I know New York is a foodie heaven but these portions … I’m growing a snout and a tail.”

***

Dead Rabbit is heaving as we walk in, and I spot at least five of the team in one of the corner booths whilst a few others are playing darts.

I love these American-style bars with their old-school sawdust floors and prohibition-era style bar booths. Sometimes on Saturdays, I go in by myself and spend hours writing the lyrics of songs, chatting to the bartenders. Here in New York, bartending and waitressing are art forms; the bartenders are counsellors, and the waitresses are mind readers, knowing exactly when to approach you and when to give space.

We squeeze our way through the crowd to the booth.

“Charlie, Joe.” Karl grins at us, beckoning us over. “What are you having?”

“Two Old Fashioneds please, boss,” Joe says.

He looks around the group. “Two Old Fashioneds, two whiskey sours, G & T coming right up.”

“Do you need a hand, Karl?” I shout over the music.

“Sure.” He smiles, putting his hand on my lower back as we make our way to the bar.

“How are you, Charlie?” He looks genuinely concerned. “Are you enjoying New York?”

“I love New York.” That wasn’t a lie. I do love New York. I’ve walked every inch of the glitzy concrete jungle and its parks. My distractions.

“You seem to have settled into the design team shockingly fast.” He looks at me, and I glow at the compliment. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to make sure you’re OK this past week.”

I heard he was in Singapore for a tech conference.

“You don’t need to make sure I’m OK, Karl.” I frown. “You’ve got hundreds of people in the office to look after.”

His eyes flit from mine as he starts to say something but holds back.

He thinks he needs to watch out for me after what’s happened with Danny.

There’s been an unspoken rule since I landed in New York. We don’t talk about Danny to each other. Karl took me out for lunch a few times during my first few weeks. We only ever crossed paths at Tristan’s parties before, so I never got to know him well. We had only ever scratched the surface, but here in New York, I’ve been able to spend time with him. We talked for hours about the new plans for the Dunley products.

“What are your weekend plans?” he asks as he hands the bartender his card.

“Actually, I’m going to do some work on Saturday,” I admit sheepishly.

“Work on a weekend?” He raises a brow. “Are we working you too hard?”

“No.” I smile. “I just want to finish some design ideas so Joe can build the prototypes.”

He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “You are really flourishing in this role, Charlie. It’s a good fit for you. I never realised you had such a creative streak.”

“Thanks, Karl.” I blush. “That means a lot coming from you.”

“Look, don’t spend all weekend working, though?” he asks as he hands me the whiskey cocktails.

“I won’t,” I promise. “On Sunday, Joe is taking me to the Brooklyn Museum.”

Karl lifts a brow. “Joe, huh? Doesn’t he live in Brooklyn?”

“Yes,” I reply with a hint of irritation. What’s he insinuating?

“He’s been showing me around the city.”

“You know he is interested in you?”

“Nothing is going on, Karl.” I frown.

Interest flickers in his eyes then disappears. “I’m glad you’ve got someone showing you around. Do you know anyone else here?”

“No.” I shrug.

And that’s fine with me. Because when I stop pounding the streets going to museums, art galleries, comedy clubs, and burger joints, I close the door to my beautiful loft apartment and can be alone to cry.

“Let’s you and I go out for lunch soon, ok?”

“I’d like that.” I nod at him, smiling. I take a large slug of my Old Fashioned. It burns going down my windpipe, but it might help me get to sleep quicker.

Huh.

So this is how you become an alcoholic.

***

It’s midnight by the time I get back into the apartment and throw my shoes off. Too late for a school night with the amount of work I need to do tomorrow.

Although I miss Cat and the girls, I love living alone in this beautiful apartment with its exposed brick and high beamed ceilings that I’d never be able to afford if Nexus didn’t own it.

I turn on the heating, get into my sweatpants, then sit cross-legged on the sofa with my laptop resting on my legs and my herbal sleeping pill dissolving in hot water.

Then I flick to the photos I’d taken with my professional camera and allow the tears to fall. We looked like the happiest couple in the world; like we belonged together.

For four weeks, I’ve done this ritual.

Fun times, I think sarcastically to myself.

During the day, I’m ‘happy go lucky’ Charlie exploring the best of New York but at night, alone in my apartment, I allow myself to mourn.

I replay every interaction we’ve ever had in microscopic detail, then torture myself with scenarios of the present. How many times has he slept with Jackie? Is it just sex, or does he like her? Does he love her? Is he going to take her to Shetland? That thought makes my heart freeze.

Stevie gives me snippets of what’s happening in London. He’s been told he can keep his job. He said Jackie has been out on sick leave, and Danny is walking around in a permanent bad mood. Julie says he’s suing her media company for defamation of character.

At work, things are back to the way they were before, he’s the CEO, and I’m just an employee. I get my paychecks, I get his company-wide emails of motivation, and once a month, I painfully listen to a live video he streams with all employees.

I exit my photo collection and click on the music software.

I’ve been writing new material the past few weeks, much darker than my usual upbeat tunes, because writing lyrics about pain brings back the pain, and the sadistic side of me wants to wallow in this darkness as long as possible.

I upload them to OpenMic. These ones are building traction and the views are creeping up daily. I guess there are a lot of mourning, brokenhearted people out there.

A message flashes in my Inbox.

Samantha Dalton, Creative Director, DreamWorks Pictures

Samantha wants to talk about using my music … sure, Samantha, if that’s your real name.

I get flooded with these every day. Samantha will market my songs at a mere five grand cost to me, making me millions!

***

I tilt my head to the side, studying the screen. “They’re amazing, Joe.”

He grins. “I know, right? The board is going to be blown away.”

I flinch. In a week’s time, we will present our roadmap for the products to the Nexus board of directors. There is a possibility that Danny will attend, although his schedule is never confirmed until a few days in advance when his team decides what are the most important events for him to attend. Since he is usually quadruple booked, this won’t register as high on his priority list. Karl already confirmed that his presence is unlikely.

We’ve worked day and night for this presentation for three weeks, and I’m determined not to fuck it up. It’s funny how a broken heart turns you into a workaholic.

“Just a minute, Joe.” Tristan’s name flashes on my phone, and I walk over to the side of the office for privacy.

It’s 10 p.m. London time.

“Hey, sis,” his warm voice floods the phone.

“Hey.” I smile at the view, happy to hear my big brother’s voice.

“You’ve been ignoring me again,” he scolds.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been swamped with the new roadmap. We’re presenting to the board next week, and the design has taken up so much time,” I say excitedly.

“I’m glad to hear the passion in your voice again. I’m worried about you, Charlie. You’ve been distant since you’ve been in New York.”

“I’m sorry for being distant.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I just needed some time … after everything.”

There’s a long pause.

“Maybe you should look for another job? There are some I.T. positions in my firm we need to fill. It’s not healthy working for Danny after what happened. It’s not normal.”

“I never see him. It’s fine. Right now, I love the role. When I get back to London, I’ll look for another company.”

“Charlie, he’s going to be in New York next week.”

Fuck.

The presentation. I was banking on him not attending. I draw in a breath. “How do you know? Are you talking again?”

“No.” He sighs. “I need time away from him. Jack told me.”

“I wish you would speak to him, Tristan. I’ve done enough damage without wrecking your relationship.”

“None of this is your fault,” he retorts. “He’s older, wiser, he’s the CEO, for Christ’s sake.”

“What else did Jack say?” My stomach churns.

He lets out a long sigh. “Jack says he is in a bad way.”

“The stress of the article?”

“No,” he says slowly. “That washed over him. He’s not telling Jack much, but we think it’s related to you.”

I stiffen. “I doubt that, Tristan. He got over me quickly.”

“How do you know?”

I don’t want to have this conversation with my brother.

“He slept with our receptionist three days after it happened,” I choke out. “Jackie.”

The blood leaves my face as I say her name out loud.

He curses under his breath. “Fucking asshole, I’ll slaughter him. Still, you must have affected him since he paid half a million to keep your name out of the article.”

“He did what?” I ask loudly.

“He paid to keep your name out of the article,” Tristan repeats. “I thought you knew that. He paid the reporter something between half a million to a million.”

“I didn’t know that,” I whisper, my mind whirling.

“He did the right thing,” he adds begrudgingly. “I’ll give him that.”

“It must have been for you,” I say in a small voice. “For your friendship.”

He snorts.

“Please, Tristan. The relationship between Danny and I is ruined. But you owe him twenty years of loyalty. Think about how he was there for you through all the drama with Gemina. The article wasn’t his fault. It was mine,” I continue. “I’m a grown woman, and it took two of us to get into that mess. You can’t keep punishing him.”

“I need time. He went behind my back.”

“He made one mistake.”

“What happened between you two?” he asks softly. “He’s never taken a girl to Shetland before.”

I sigh. “I thought it was special. I misread it. Listen, I have to go,” I say as another call comes up on the screen.

“Bye, sis. Next time, answer my call.”

I press connect on the unknown number; it’s not a New York area code or a UK number. “Hello?”

“Is this Charlotte Kane?” a female American voice drawls down the phone.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Charlotte, this is Samantha Dalton from DreamWorks Pictures.”