The Lovely Garden (7 page)

It was not a pond, but a garden. The most beautiful garden I had ever seen.  I didn’t know what any of the flowers were, but there were so many colors. Purple, pinks, reds, yellows, and blues, all of different shades and sizes in neat rows. In the midst of the flowers were several trees that stood merely inches taller than Charles, flowering as they do in early spring.

“Holy shit, this is amazing!” Maybe I could have come up with something better than “holy shit,” but it seemed fitting at the time. And it was beautiful. My face was lit with wonder.

Charles’ face was nothing less than smug. “I thought you would like it. Come on,” he said, giving my hand a tug. I willingly followed him. He took me deeper into the garden and toward a pavilion that sat just on the border of the garden and the surrounding woods. “This was my mom’s favorite spot.” With his wistful tone, I thought it best to give him a moment. “Do you want to sit down?” He gestured to the pavilion.

I nodded. “Please.” Sitting would give me time to take in the beauty of the garden.

When we reached the pavilion, we sat side-by-side on a wooden bench. My back was turned to him, looking at the flowers and trees. I gave a content sigh and leaned back against his chest. Already so comfortable, as if I belonged there wrapped in him. “This is very nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” His fingers ran through my hair. “I used to come here all the time with my mom,” he said in that faraway tone. “When I was little, I would play on the ground, when I got older, we would talk. Overlooking her Lovely Garden, as my father used to call it.”

I couldn’t fathom losing my mother. She was everything to me, and my father. It would kill a huge chunk of me if they were to be suddenly taken away from me, as Charles’ parents had been. I could only imagine what he was going through. Even years later it was still raw. “What did you talk about?” Maybe talking about happy memories will get the mood up.

“Everything, really. School, sports, girls. There wasn’t anything we didn’t talk about. We were really close.” The fingers that were running through my hair were now on my neck, needing the stuff muscles. I moaned and Charles chuckled. “Feel good?”

“Oh god, yes!” Massages are not something that I get very often, and this one was wonderful. I didn’t want it to end, but his fingers stilled. “Why did you stop?” I pouted, turning my head toward him. He wasn’t looking at me, didn’t even hear me. He was completely frozen. Not to sound cliché, but he was like a deer caught in the headlights. Too afraid to move, and so pale I thought he might pass out. I followed his line a sight and spotted a figure standing at the edge of the garden, watching us.

It was a woman in a pencil skirt that accented her wonderful curves. She was model tall, and from what I could see, beautiful as well. Even from this distance, I could see the similarities between her and Charles. If I were to guess, it would be his sister. A sister he seemed terrified of.

Charles was on his feet and headed toward her, leaving me feel cold and dread filling the pit of my stomach. His fear of the woman was in his gait. Head down, hands trembling. Never would I have imagined seeing a thirty-five-year old man trembling at the sight of a single woman. And I never wanted to see it again.

The urge to protect him was strong enough that I stood and started to walk toward the edge of the pavilion. Charles stopped me with a single look. A pleading to stay where I was. And so I did, not wanting to make this worse on him.

Their conversation was short. It ended with her giving his arm a strong squeeze and walking off. Charles watched her go, and I watched him, praying that I never run into her alone.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mondays are hard. Especially when you find yourself in a dead end job with shit pay and a shittier boss. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, but I hate my boss. And I mean
hate
. He’s a special kind of asshole. The kind that treats me like shit because he doesn’t find me attractive. The kind that piles more and more work on my desk so he could hit on Clara, the blonde sales-coordinator with wide blue eyes and huge breasts (had to be killer on her back), and disliked him just as much as everyone else in the office.

It wasn’t like Jerry wasn’t attractive. He was very much so. Dark brown hair that touched his shoulders always tied back with a pony tail. Bright blue eyes. Olive skin tone. And a body that made smart women stupid. But he was an asshole, and there was a certain point when girls became women and started to dislike the assholes instead of dating them.

Today, Jerry was being a quiet asshole, which was when he was the worst. It was as if he was just waiting for someone to fuck up so he could explode on them. These are the days when he was the most stressed. Meant there was a client, an important one, coming in today. Which also meant he was going to send me on some errand to get me out of the office.

Clara walked over, her tall heels- never understood why she wore them to work- clicking against the linoleum tiles. “Want me to help you with that?” She indicated to the two mounds of paperwork Jerry had deposited on my desk. Her voice was quiet as if she were afraid Jerry would come out and yell at her for daring to help me, which he might have given the mood he was in.

“Yes, please. Take your pick.” With a kind smile she took the mound furthest from me and
clacked
back to her desk. Clara worked hard and fast. She would have that stack done before lunch, and Jerry would be none the wiser. It was nice having someone that could keep up with me and the paperwork that never seemed to end. Though she might end up being done faster than me. Most of the work was updating prices on computers and printers; we’re a technology reseller to other corporations.

Soon, both of us were typing away adding to the cacophony of the others fingers striking the keyboard, yawning, and grumbling. I usually block out all of the noise. Drown myself in the work before me. But I was having a problem with that. My mind kept wandering back to the weekend I spent with Charles; Sunday having been just a relaxing day with vigorous sex as our only exercise. It was the best weekend I had in a while, and I found myself thinking about it more and more the further it got. Mostly, I found myself asking if it had happened. Had I actually bedded a rich, hot guy? It was very hard to believe.

A ding from my phone and my gray eyes went straight to Jerry’s door, making sure he didn’t hear it; he was a bit of a stickler when it came to using phones during work hours. Normally the ringer was off, but I must have forgot that day. Having slept through my alarm, I had a rushed morning. Must have slipped my mind.

Once more I checked around the office, making sure no one saw me pick up my phone. My heart hammered hard against my chest, thinking, hoping, it was Charles. I let out a puff disappointment. It was Jenny asking me to go to lunch. I stared at the text with a pout on my face. There hadn’t been a word from him since I had gotten home Sunday and I was a little worried. I understood how busy he was, but sending a text doesn’t take that long! Not that I was one to talk, spending my time waiting for him to text instead of texting him myself.

Another sweep of the office and I quickly replied to Jenny and turned the ringer off.
You know I only get 30 min break.
It was my way of telling her no. When Jenny asked for lunch she meant sit around, eat, and talk for at least a thirty minutes
after
we were done eating. Sometimes, she wanted to get drinks as well. Not really something I can do during a work lunch break.

I felt the phone vibrate before I even set it down. Damn, she was fast.
Fine. Dinner then?

If she was that determined to see me, then it must be something important. Probably wanted to talk about Charles, and she wouldn’t let up until I said yes. Might as well get it over with.
Ok. When and where?

The Pub at 8?
Maybe she didn’t want to talk about my date. Going to Smithy’s Pub, or the Pub as we call it, meant Jenny wanted to drink. A lot. Something was stressing her out and I needed to know.

Sounds good. See you then.
I set my phone down on my desk, my eyes moving straight to Jerry’s office. The blinds were drawn and the door shut, meaning he was still in there. The breath I didn’t know I was holding was released. Text during work hours was something that would get you yelled at in front of the entire office. Let me tell you, that was super fun.

My fingers found the keyboard once again and I got back to work. It took several minutes for me to get back into my zone. Nothing else in the world mattered except getting the work done. Grab paper, update prices, send email, rinse and repeat. Over and over again until I was finished. I didn’t even notice the shadow looming over me until it cleared its throat. My heart hammered against my chest and I dropped the papers in my hand. “Jesus,” I muttered to myself, hands shaking.

“Sorry,” came Jerry’s all too familiar condescending voice, a nice baritone that was unfortunate enough to be attached to a dick. He was talking to me. It was time to send me on that errand.

The biggest fake smile spread across my face. “Yes, sir?” I hate this. Hate that I have to talk nice to him for fear of losing my job. Hate that I even have to work in this place. Maybe I should have taken Charles up on his offer. Anywhere was better than here.

He returned my smile with his slimy I’m-so-clever one. He wasn’t fooling anyone, but we all let him believe he was. Better than the alternative. “Would you be so kind as to grab me a cup of coffee from the shop around the corner?” He wanted me out of the office for a while. One Cup, Two Cup, the shop he was sending me to, was extremely busy in the morning. I should know, I have to pass the place on my way to work every day.

“Sure, no problem.” I had the intense pleasure watching the corner of Jerry’s lips twitch. He had a pet peeve about people saying “no problem.” He believed that people should say “my pleasure” instead. When he had hired me, he had explained in great detail I should say the latter instead of the former. We had gone over it many times since. But I had to rebel some way, and it was the one I took the most pleasure in. And he wouldn’t fire me over it.

He deposited a ten-dollar bill on the edge of my desk before walking away, not even checking to make sure I grabbed it or not or telling me his order. Not that I didn’t know it already, it wasn’t my first coffee outing. A large, black coffee with four scoops of sugar and eight shots of cream. How they fit all of that in a cup and still manage to keep it coffee, I had no idea. The baristas were the experts, not me.

Grabbing my purse and the money, I headed toward the door, my flats’ hard sole tapping against the floor. A flight of stairs later, and I found myself at the main entrance to our building. Darren, the security guard, waved as I walked out of the door. I made sure to return it. Darren was an older gentleman with silver hair and crow’s feet surrounding his kind, dark brown eyes. He had always been nice to me, so I take care to return the favor. I liked him, and I didn’t want to get on his bad side. I had witnessed first-hand how he spoke to Jerry, and I would rather not be on the receiving end of that tongue-lashing.

Halfway to the cafe, I stopped to take everything in. It was a nice day. Not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining brightly, and not a cloud in the sky. The city traffic had died down, only a couple of cars waiting at a stop light. Pigeons were cooing, but otherwise it was almost silent. It was great to be out of the office, but it was going to end. I had to get the douche his coffee and get back to work.

Much to my surprise and glee, One Cup, Two Cup was dead. There were five customer’s loitering around, and I was the only one waiting in line. They must have gotten their usual morning rush out quickly. Good for them and good for me. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Jerry’s face when I came back while the customer was at the office. It was going to be priceless. Too bad I couldn’t take a picture of it. I would have to rely on my imagination to relive the scene over again.

I was greeted rather promptly by a young man in his early twenties with a bald head and a rather nice brown beard and a toothy smile. According to the name tag he wore, his name was Anthony. He wasn’t the usual barista, but maybe Candice was on break. All of them probably needed a rest after what they had to deal with.

“What can I get’cha, ma’am?” Anthony was so sweet that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the bald head and beard combo didn’t suit him well. But if he liked it, who was I to say anything? I’m sure there were plenty of things I did with myself that looked like shit.

“Large, black coffee. Four scoops of sugar and eight shots of cream.” With an incredulous look, he told me my total and I handed him the ten, telling him to keep the change. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had to give. I should start carrying around a few ones for moments like these. “Is Candice not here today?”

“She’s here,” he called over his shoulder as he made Jerry’s cup of not-coffee. “Would you like me to get her?”

“Oh, no. I was just curious is all.” And nosey. Really, I just wanted to make sure she didn’t get fired or something. She was great at her job, and one of the reasons I enjoy coming here to get Jerry’s coffee. I would get my own from here, but it’s just cheaper to make it at home, and I’m a broke bitch.

Anthony handed me my order and I headed out of the cafe with a “thanks,” glad to be on the move again. I had started to grow restless waiting the thirty seconds for him to make my coffee. Somehow, I could sit and work all day no problem, but outside of work, I just wanted to be moving. Had to be moving. Even if it was at a leisurely stroll, as I was doing now. I might or might not have been hoping Jerry’s coffee would be cold by the time I got back.