Reparation (25 page)

Everything always does
.

Tate apologized. Nick said it was okay. She told him that she liked him, and that she
really
wanted to be in love with him. Said she could try. He said he wasn't asking her for anything. She said she
would
try. He told her to calm down, then he carried her into the shower, left her alone with her thoughts.

She turned the water scalding hot, wanting to feel the burn and sting against her skin. Wanting to be punished. Wanting to be absolved.

The sex hadn't been bad. It had been great – Nick was no slouch. But Tate was no nice, normal girl. The whole time he'd been inside of her, she was thinking of someone else. Someone with sharp claws and sharper words.

This is it. This is your choice. I hope you're happy with it.

“
Mr. Hollingsworth,
” Sanders' cool voice cut through the din in the cafe.

Ang stood up, held out his hand to the quiet man. Sanders had always made Ang a little uncomfortable. He rarely made eye contact, and then when he did, it was a very direct stare. He was also a lot shorter than Ang, easily six or more inches, so that added to the awkward feeling. But he cared a great deal for Tatum, Ang knew, so he couldn't be a bad guy.

And after almost three weeks of Tatum playing house in Arizona, Ang figured it was time to cut the shit.

“Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Ang said. Sanders barely shook his hand before taking a seat at the table. Then he stared at the wall behind Ang.

“It's no trouble. How have you been?” the other man asked. Tate had said Sanders had spent most of his life in London, but his accent sounded different to Ang. Sharper.

“Good. Okay. Working on a new movie. Helping Ellie with the baby,” he replied.

“Are you and Mrs. Carmichael an item again?”

“No,” Ang laughed. “That was a mistake.”

“A pretty large mistake, if you don't mind my saying.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever. How is Satan?” Ang asked, leaning back in his chair and sipping at his coffee.

“If you are referring to Mr. Kane, he is well,” Sanders replied, not touching the coffee Ang had ordered for him.

“Really? Moved onto the next woman already?” Ang pressed. Sanders finally looked at him.

“If you would like to talk about her, please, don't waste anymore time,” he stated. Ang nodded.

“Alright. She hasn't mentioned him to me at all. How is he handling all this bullshit?” Ang asked. Sanders sighed and his eyes slid back to the wall.

“Not very well. He is very hurt by her. He thinks she lied to him. I think he is a little afraid of her now,” Sanders explained.

“Those retards. All they've managed to do is scare each other, from
each other
. How do they function day to day?” Ang grumbled.

“Sometimes, I honestly wonder. Without us, I am pretty sure they wouldn't make it very far.”

Ang actually laughed. Sanders could be funny. Who knew?

“Look, I wanted to talk to you cause I'm worried about her. She's been down there for like three weeks now. She's talking herself into staying. Nick is buzzing in her ear, telling her all that shit she thinks she wants to hear. She's going to do something stupid, like move in with him, or marry him, or something. She'll turn back into a Stepford-wife, and ten years from now, she'll be some pill popping alcoholic, just like her mother. I can't handle that,” Ang stressed. Sanders nodded.

“All of this has occured to me.”

“Well, what are we going to
do
about it!?” Ang demanded. Sanders' eyes met his again.

“What can we do? It seems to Jameson and I that she has made her decision, and it is not us,” Sanders replied.

“You don't mean that. I don't know you very well, or Satan, but I know you guys wouldn't just give up on her. Sanders, she is
going
to do it. You know her. How often does she make the
right
decision?” Ang asked. Sanders pressed his lips together.

“Not very often,” he said in a soft voice.

“Please. Help her. She listens to you. She
needs
you. She's lost.
Find her,
” Ang replied, his voice low.

Sanders stood up abruptly, startling Ang. He glanced around the cafe, then down at Ang. Straightened his tie. Cleared his throat. Fiddled with his tie again.

“I will discuss these things with Jameson. I can't make any promises. He is very upset. If he won't go, I would be useless. She needs
him
to find her,” Sanders said. Ang nodded and stood up as well.

“Yes.”

Sanders didn't say anything, just walked away. Ang figured that was kind of typical behavior. He ran a hand through his hair, then pulled out his phone and glanced at it. The background screen was a picture of him, Tatum, and Ellie. Ellie was staring coolly at the camera, one perfectly sculpted brow lifted. Tate was turned towards him, her smile wide as she bit into his cheek. He was sticking his tongue out to the side, almost touching her with it. He sighed.

“Just come home, Tater tot.
Come home.
”

*

Sanders strode through the Kraven Brokerage office building. On his own, he knew he was not an intimidating man. But with the weight of Jameson's name and wealth carrying behind him, people respected Sanders. Made way for him. He knew this, and took advantage of it. He had picked up some tricks from Jameson along the way, and was very good at pretending like he was confident and in charge.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sanders,” a security guard tipped his hat.

“How are you, Mr. Sanders?” the new secretary downstairs breathed, looking up at him with big eyes. He glanced at her. She was very attractive. Blonde. Icy. Tatum's words rang through his head, “
... I hate to tell you this, Sanders, but you're kinda hot ..
.”. He usually brushed her words aside. Maybe it was time to stop. He nodded at the secretary and continued to the elevators. Went straight up to the top floor.

“Mr. Dashkevich,” Jameson's secretary leapt out of her chair. “He wasn't expecting you. He's on a conference call.”

“It's fine,” Sanders said, walking across the outer room. She hurried around her desk.

“But you can't, it's with -,” she started, and Sanders turned towards her. Stared at her.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, his voice frosty. She shook her head.

“N-no, Mr. Dashkevich. Would you like me to bring in any coffee?” she asked. He shook his head.

“No.”

She calls me
'
Mr. Dashkevich
'
. I am going to inform Jameson that she needs a raise.

He walked into the main office. Jameson was sitting at his desk, two computer screens set up in front of him. He raised his eyes at Sanders' entrance, but he didn't say anything to him. He was talking in German, running over some long term investment plans for a client. Sanders marched up to the desk.

“I need to speak to you,” he said. Jameson's eyebrows went up, but he shook his head. “
Jetzt. Es ist wichtig,
” Sanders continued in German. Jameson shook his head again, glaring now. Sanders sighed and switched tactics. “
Soy
muy
serio
.”

Spanish was actually Jameson's first language – he hadn't started speaking English till he was five. Sanders wasn't quite fluent in it, but sometimes when he had something very important he wanted to say to Jameson, he used Spanish. German for business. English for everything else.

“
Estoy trabajando en este momento, esto tiene que esperar,
” Jameson whispered, covering the computer mic with his hand. He was working. Sanders had to wait. Once again, Tatum's voice drifted through Sanders' head.

“
... Fuck this ...
”

“
Ahora,
” Sanders said loudly.
Now
. Jameson's glare got worse.

“
Me estas avergonzando en mi lugar de trabajo. Salte ya,”
he hissed. Oh, so Sanders was embarrassing him; Sanders needed to leave? Somewere, in his mind, Tatum was laughing.

“
... you don't get to tell me what to do ...
”

Sanders strode around the desk. Jameson burst out loudly in Spanish, telling him to walk away. Sanders ignored him and knelt down, groping under the desk. Jameson wheeled out of the way, looking completely bewildered. Sanders' fingers came across the power strip and he yanked it forward. Pulled every single plug out of the sockets. Jameson jumped out of his chair.

“
Dije ahora,
” Sanders said in a soft voice as he stood up.

“
Que cono te crees que estas haciendo!?
” Jameson demanded. Sanders straightened his tie.

“Vulgar words are still vulgar, in
any
language,” he pointed out.

“I don't give a fuck! Do you have any idea how much money you probably just cost us!?” Jameson shouted.

“You have enough money.”

“What the fuck has gotten into you!? For three weeks, you have been moping around the house, and now -,”

“No more than you.”

Jameson. Looked.
Pissed
.

“
Mi
corazon es el mismo que se ha pisado,
” he growled. Sanders rolled his eyes.

“The way you behave, sir, most wouldn't know you even had a heart, let alone one to get stepped on. You have moped just as much as I have. We have both missed her.
It is time,
” Sanders snapped.

“Time for what?” Jameson snapped back.

“Time to go and get her.”

“I am not -,”

“I was not asking,
sir.
”

Jameson. Looked.
Shocked
.

“Where on earth did you go for lunch, Sanders?” he asked, almost laughing.

“I met with Mr. Hollingsworth.”

“
Mierda.
”

“He is ...,
concerned
. About Tatum,” Sanders started.

“Big fucking shock. Need I remind you, Sanders, that
she
is not concerned about
us
. She didn't just leave me,” he pointed out.

“No. But she did invite
me
to go with her.”

Jameson fell back into his seat.

“I just can't win with her. She wants to get away from me? Maybe I need to get away from
her
. I used to be a nice, normal, borderline sociopath. I would like to get back to that,” he groaned. Sanders moved to sit in a chair across from the desk.

“No you wouldn't. I have let you get your wind back. Now it is time to go,” Sanders said.

“I don't want to go to goddamn Arizona. I want that bitch to rot in hell, and I want to stay as far away from her as I possibly fucking can,” Jameson swore.

“
Do not speak of her like that
.”

“I'll speak of her anyway I want to. I'm the one who got treated like shit. I'm the one who got lied to. Walked out on. I can't just forget that, Sanders. Maybe you can, but I can't,” Jameson snapped.

“Stop being overdramatic. You are upset because you care. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can get over your insecurities and go get her,” Sanders snapped back.

“She didn't trust me. After everything, she didn't trust me. Do you know what that fucking feels like!?” Jameson was almost shouting. Sanders nodded.

“Probably awfully similar to how she felt, when you brought Petrushka home to humiliate her,” he replied.

Jameson closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Sanders had hit a chord.

“Say we go there. Say I let you drag me all the way to fucking Arizona. What if she's
with
him? Did you ever think of that? What if it's too late, and she is already making a happy home with her
boyfriend?
” Jameson asked. Sanders shrugged.

“Then we will know, and we will leave. But we have to try,” he urged.

“
You
have to try. I don't have to do sh-,”

“Mr. Hollingsworth thinks she is going to marry him,” Sanders burst out. It was reaching. Most definitely stretching the truth. But Ang had definitely said all those words; just mostly at different times. Jameson's eyebrows shot up.

“Really. After three weeks. Quick operator,” he said in a soft voice. Sanders cleared his throat.

“Someday. He thinks she is convincing herself that Mr. Castille is what she wants in life. I think she wants to feel loved and wanted. Mr. Castille gives her those things,” Sanders explained.

“And I didn't?”

“No.”

“
Siempre Tatum. Obligarme a hacer cosas que no quiero hacer,
” Jameson mumbled, staring off into space.

“It seems to me, sir, that she never once made you do something that you didn't want to do,” Sanders countered.

“No. No, I suppose not. I'm going to be honest, Sanders. If we go there, and she can't be won over; if I find out that she really never loved me ..., I am
not
going to handle it too well,” Jameson warned him.

“No, I wouldn't imagine you would. But would you rather continue on, not knowing?” Sanders asked.

“Sometimes, I think I would. I don't like being scared.”

Jameson's voice was soft, almost like he was afraid to say it out loud. Sanders frowned and looked out a window. He didn't like hearing those things. It was one thing for him to assume them about Jameson, it was another for Jameson to admit them. Jameson was a powerful man. Not just in Sanders' mind, but in real life. In the world. A man not to be reckoned with – and Tatum O'Shea had managed to scare him.