Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (15 page)

“Free round,
compliments of Master Trent,” Sam called out.

“To Master
Trent!” the men cheered and raised their current beers in a salute to the right
wall where Trent’s face glared from all the dartboards.

Carrie laughed
and took a big gulp of her diet coke. She gasped as liquid fire burned down her
throat and lit a fire in her belly. “Water!” she whispered.

Sam passed her
his second beer. “Try this.”

Desperate to
stop the pain, she gulped down half the beer. While it did seem to deaden the
burn, it also messed with the pull of gravity. She gripped the edge of table so
she wouldn’t fall up. She never did well with alcohol.

“You okay?” he
asked, rubbing her back the same way Trent did. God, she wished hell would
freeze over so she could explain herself to a rational and calm Trent who might
listen and forgive her. Then she could have her job and best friend back.

“He needs me!
He can’t do it alone. No one could. Those people are impossible.”

Both Sams
sighed and drank their two beers. “So what’d ya do to make Trent fire you?”
their voices asked in unison.

She confessed
her sins then burst into tears.

The Sams
rubbed her back again as she laid her head on top of her crossed arms and cried
in private.

When she
finally calmed and raised her head, a single Sam dried her eyes with a rough
white cloth and pushed her diet coke toward her.

She pushed it
away.

“It’s just
diet coke. I had Dawn bring you a new one.”

She pulled it
close and tested his word with a tiny sip. When it didn’t burn, she took
another sip. Finally, she pulled the paper off the straw and began an oral
transfusion line.

When the glass
gurgled, Sam stood and helped her to her feet. “Would you like to stop at the
restroom before we go?”

She nodded. A
second later, Dawn arrived at his table with a tray full of beers.

“No thank
you,” Carrie stated.

Sam chuckled.
“Take Carrie to the bathroom and I’ll take care of the beers.”

They switched
chores and Dawn hurried her to the bathroom.

“Sorry about
the drink,” Dawn said once they entered the bathroom. “Sam doesn’t normally do
shit like that. Don’t know what’s up with him tonight. He’s usually a decent
guy. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“No money. But
Sam has Trent’s limo.”

Dawn led her
to the first stall. “What’s Master Trent really like?”

“Well, had you
asked me this morning, I would’ve said he’s much nicer than he seems at first,
but this afternoon he yelled at me to leave and not come back until hell
freezes over.”

“Wow. So he
really is a bastard?”

Carrie wanted
to nod, but she couldn’t. “No…it was my fault.” She then told her the sad
story.

“That sucks. But
honestly, if I countermanded Sam like that, he’d fire me, and he’s the best
boss I’ve ever had.”

“Sam’s your
boss?” She hadn’t realized Sam owned the bar.

She nodded.
“Yep, and he got pissed when I brought you two diet cokes, one normal and one
like he ordered.” Dawn tilted her head and studied her. “You and Master Trent
have something going on?”

“Not now, but
I had thought maybe…”

“Now, I’m
getting the picture. Okay, I’m about to give you some advice, but if you tell
Sam I told you this, he’ll fire me. I’m trusting you because the story you told
me proves you understand people like us need our jobs.”

Carrie nodded
and sniffled. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Who’s gonna want a fired EA?
And what if he tells them I undermined his authority? Who would hire me then?
No one! I wouldn’t even hire me.”

Dawn helped
her up from the toilet and led her to the counter where she helped Carrie wash
her hands. “Listen, Sam’s got a weird hate/love relationship with Master Trent.
I thought he genuinely liked you when he first brought you in, but now I’m
thinking he’s using you to torture his master. You do not want to be in the
middle of their ongoing war.”

“There’s no
war. He’s Trent’s obsequious limo driver. I mean, who calls anyone ‘master’
anymore?”

“Okay, you’re
too drunk to take advice. Just forget I said anything all. I tried and failed.
I only hope it doesn’t come back and bite me.”

The bathroom
door opened and Sam leaned in. “Everything okay in here?”

“Yes, she’s
ready to go.”

Sam walked in
and slipped his arm around her. “Time to go, Carrie. I just called Master Trent
and told him I found you in a bar drinking away your sorrows. I’ve warned him
you’re not very coherent, but he wants to talk to you tonight.”

She shook her
head as horrible scenarios flashed through her foggy head. “He’s still yelling.
I heard him on the phone with you. My heart can’t take anymore yelling right
now. I’ll talk to him in a year or so when I’m better.”

Sam pulled her
into his chest and held her. God, he felt so much like Trent. She wrapped her
arms around his waist and held on with all her might. “I don’t want to lose
you.”

“Come on.
Let’s get you to Trent so you can crush his ribs. I don’t mind pain during good
loving, but I draw the line when the loving is for another guy.”

She pulled
away from him. “I’m sorry…I’m not thinking straight.”

“No, you’re
not, but hopefully you’ll sober up and see the truth soon enough.”

They passed
Dawn and slowly made it out of the bar.

Trent
regretted his angry words…but too late. Carrie had fled his presence.

She
couldn’t have gotten far, not with those tiny little legs.

Determined to
catch her, he took the stairs three at a time to outrun the elevator. When he
reached the lobby, the elevator had already arrived and his worthless employees
pushed their way inside.

Damn it all! The
heart and soul of his company and life had escaped thinking he’d just fired
her.

He had to
catch her and fix matters. Running forward, he pushed the remaining employees
out of his way. He didn’t slow as he reached the doors because unlike his
employees, those doors always did their job and opened just in time for him
pass through.

Except today.

Trent crashed
into the sliding door that quivered and shook, but did not open. Dropping to
the floor in pain, he cursed a blue streak. Someone snickered behind him. Not
one of his worthless employees offered to help. He ignored the searing agony that
threatening to knock him unconscious and called his driver. “Sam, you have to locate
Carrie. She’s just left this building. Find and bring her back.” Blood ran down
his white shirt. Trent touched his nose and cursed as pain seared through his
brain. “I think the door broke my nose. I’ve got to go the hospital. Call me
when you find her.”

Trent pushed
himself up, pressed his monogrammed, fine linen handkerchief to his nose and
stumbled outside to flag a taxi.

“New York’s
Presbyterian Hospital,” he said as he climbed in the taxi.

“General’s
closer.”

“Just do as I
ask!” he growled. Why would no one follow his orders?

Why should he
be surprised a taxi driver would challenge him when even Carrie countermanded
his authority today?

Then I told
her to leave.

He hadn’t
meant it the way she’d taken it. He just needed her to leave him alone until he
got his temper under control. He couldn’t remember ever being angrier or
feeling more betrayed. His rage had flared beyond his control, which terrified
him. He knew he’d say something that would irrevocably break the bond between
them.

So he told her
to leave.

When she
pleaded to explain her side, the words he feared exited his mouth. “When hell
freezes over.”

Stupid
bastard!

The taxi
pulled up into the emergency entrance. As a director of the hospital, he knew
they only allowed ambulances to drive the circle. He tossed the man two
twenties and left the car before the guard had even reached the sliding glass
doors. He approached the entrance cautiously, not because he feared the
security guard, but due to his new and well-founded mistrust of sliding doors.

They opened
and the guard gripped his arm. “Mr. Lancaster, are you okay, sir?”

He removed the
blood soaked handkerchief from his face. “Do I look okay?”

The guard
ignored his testiness and led him inside to a hard plastic chair. “Just wait
here and I’ll have someone see right to you.” He hurried away.

Trent sighed
in frustration. Why couldn’t he have employees like that? He suspected the
guard would never challenge his boss.

A moment
later, a white haired doctor in his early fifties hurried into the lobby,
searched about until his gaze landed on Trent, then rushed to him.

Seeing Dr.
Lenard, Trent stood and tried to shorten the distance. His quick rise caused
his vision to dim and he tilted backwards. Before he went horizontal, a strong
grip on his arm and back steadied him, as Lenard demanded a wheelchair.

Two minutes
later, he sat on a bed in a private room while two pretty nurses undressed him.
They reminded him of Carrie: efficient, hardworking, and caring.

His heart
squeezed painfully in his chest.
I told her to leave.

Angry with
himself, he yelled at Lenard. “Since when does a broken nose require the
patient to be stripped of their clothes and dignity?”

“Since you
almost fainted,” the doctor replied. “Now lie back. I’m sending you for an
MRI.”

“Crap.” He
didn’t have time for this nonsense. He needed to find Carrie! “Let me call my
driver and see if he’s found my EA.”

“That can
wait.” Lenard tried to snatch his cell phone.

“This is
important!” he snapped. “If you ever want me to give another dime to this
hospital, you will allow me to make this call.”

Without a
single eye roll or head shake, Lenard held up his hands in surrender.

Why couldn’t
his employees back down like that?

But no, his
employees ignored his every command. Even Carrie.

He dialed Sam
and placed the phone to his ear. “Sam, have you found her?”

His heart sank.
Like everyone else, Sam failed to do his job. However, he couldn’t fault the
places Sam searched. Trent had told her to leave. Of course, she’d go home the
way she always commuted: Penn station.

He was about
to tell his driver to abandon the car and go inside when Sam told him he’d just
parked the car and intended to search inside. Satisfied Sam would find her, he
closed the phone and gave it to the nurse.

Without
further delay, they rolled him down the hallway and moved him onto an open air
MRI he’d personally selected and purchased for the hospital after taking a
personal dislike to the old tunnel version. He’d felt as if he lay in a coffin
for an eternity while demonic construction workers drilled from above.

An analysis he’d
commissioned claimed this MRI the quietest and most comfortable one available,
so Trent bought it for the hospital, just in case he ever had to go in one
again.

At least
one of his long-range plans had worked out.

He changed his
mind the moment the MRI began its scan. The construction drilling still
occurred. An hour later, he wondered why he’d bothered buying this piece of
crap. He should have invested in some great earplugs instead.

The moment
they returned him to his private room, he demanded and received his phone. He
called only to discover Sam in a bar. His temper blew, causing his nose to
bleed again. He hung up on his incompetent driver he couldn’t fire, now sick to
death with worry that something had happened to Carrie. He tried to call her cell
phone and her home phone, but she either ignored his call because hell hadn’t
frozen over or never made it home. Someone could have abducted her on the way
to the train, or the train could have crashed.

Lenard entered
with a tall, arrogant guy wearing a crisp white lab jacket over his custom
tailored suit. “Trent, this is Dr. Phillip Ranson. Best plastic surgeon in the
country. He’s going to take care of your nose now. The MRI indicates you’re
fine, by the way. However, your blood pressure is sky high. Have you been under
any undue stress today?”

“Yes. In a
moment of rage, I fired my EA, and now I cannot find her to tell her she
misunderstood me.”

Lenard
chuckled. “Well, let’s get your nose fixed so you remain handsome enough to
convince the young lady the fault lies solely with her, misunderstanding you as
she did.”

Trent sighed.
He’d need to work on his explanation or else he’d sound like a bigger jerk than
she already thought him.

Two hours
later, he returned to his private room, groggy from painkillers, tormented by
scenarios of Carrie abducted and sold into the slave trade. Demanding his cell
phone, he called Sam, who answered with, “I found her.”

Alive,
please let her be alive.

“She’s a bit
drunk. What do you want me to do with her?”

“Drunk? She
can’t drink. She tips over from one drink. Was anyone with her?”

“I noticed the
tipping problem when she stood up to go to the bathroom. I asked a waitress to
assist her. I’ll need to give the woman a bonus for work outside her job
description.”

“Don’t worry
about the cost, I’ll cover it. Just take Carrie to the penthouse. I’ll be home
in a minute.”

Lenard shook
his head. Trent spoke into the phone, “Hold on,” then glared at the doctor.
“Why are you shaking your head?”

“I want to
keep you here tonight for observation.”

“No.”

The doctor’s
brow furrowed. “Trent, you need someone watching over you.”

“I have
servants. I’m sure they’ll watch over me once I point out their jobs end if
they let me die.”

“Do you have
anyone who actually likes you?”

He smiled at
the question. If he needed Carrie to stay for medical reasons, she would, no
matter how angry he’d made her. “Yes, once I apologize better. Now I’ve met
your condition. Sign me out. I’m going home.”

* * * *

Trent flagged
a taxi. He could have called Sam to pick him up, but he hoped to get home
first, so he could lie in bed, looking injured and in need of aid when he asked
Carrie to stay.

When the cab
pulled up outside his penthouse, he paid the man and stumbled out. The effort
made him seriously light-headed. He closed his eyes to the bright street lamp. Then
his balance went off. Maybe leaving the hospital hadn’t been a good idea after
all.

Someone patted
his body.

He couldn’t
tell if they wanted to help or mug him—in New York, they might do both. “Don’t
steal my wallet, just take the money,” he growled.

The little
hands pulled away.

“Hold on! You
have to help me get him inside,” a guy yelled.

Sam?

“He just
called me a thief!”

Upon hearing
Carrie’s angry response, he opened his eyes and squinted to reduce the pain the
light caused.

“Carrie, I
didn’t recognize you by your pat down. I thought someone realized I’m in less
than a robust state and attempted to take my wallet.”

“Don’t talk
anymore.” She leaned forward. “Should we take him to a hospital?”

He definitely
didn’t want that. “No, I just got out.”

“They let you
out like this? Without anyone to help you?”

“I had to sign
a waiver saying you waited downstairs to take me home. Then I had to bribe the
attendant who rolled me outside to put me in a cab.”

“We need to
get him somewhere he can lie down.”

The concern in
Carrie’s response gave him hope. She still cared for him.

Sam chuckled.
“May I suggest his penthouse, since we are standing in front of it?”

“Oh! I forgot
about your penthouse.”

Trent patted
her head. “That’s okay. Sam remembered it.” Actually, he liked her lack of
interest in his possessions. He found it a nice change from the prior women he’d
dated, who always seemed to be weighing whether his many possessions justified
the effort to tolerate his company. Sometimes, when their greed became a bit
too obvious, he’d intentionally show his worst behavior just to see how much
they loved his money. So far, they’d all had their breaking points.

While riding
the elevator up to his penthouse, Trent managed to open his eyes. Carrie’s
worried face stared up at him. He dearly wanted to apologize, but Sam
accompanied them, and he couldn’t do it front of his driver.

Mars, his
butler stood waiting when the elevator door opened. For a moment, the man’s
eyes rounded in shock, but then the placid demeanor, mandatory in a butler,
returned. He took over Carrie’s side. “Let’s put him to bed.”

“I’ll just
wait out in the car,” Carrie said.

Both Sam and
Trent replied in unison. “No!”

“The car’s
locked,” Sam warned.

“And I
promised the doctor you would look after me,” Trent added.

He expected
her to remind him he’d fired here, but her brow wrinkled like a pug’s and she
nodded twice, following them to his bedroom.

After they
stripped him down to his boxers, put him in bed, and covered him with a sheet,
Carrie sat on the edge of the bed and gripped his hand.

He waved off
the butler and Sam. The butler left at once, but his driver resisted. “You
gonna be okay?” he asked. At first, Trent thought his driver actually gave a
damn about him, but then realized Sam focused on Carrie.

She turned and
nodded.

“We’ll be
right out here,” he added and left the room.

Trent wanted
to yell at him to go back to Long Island, but he needed to repair what he’d
broken first, and he didn’t mean his nose.

“I’m sorry.”
His words echoed. He frowned. The MRI lied. Something remained broken, probably
due to all the clanging.

Carrie’s green
eyes met his. She looked so miserable. “I was completely in the wrong. I should
never have undermined your authority. I didn’t mean to. I knew if I had the
chance to explain my reasoning, you would’ve agreed. Only I had no time to
discuss it with you.”

He had been
ready to take the blame for this debacle just to get her back. She remained the
best employee he’d ever had, even if he could never completely trust her again.
How could he, now knowing she had no respect for him or his position? She’d purposely
overridden his authority and humiliated him in front of an employee. For what?
So some slacker could go to class while on the company clock. They were
supposed to be a team
against
the slacker employees. But just like his father used to, she countermanded his
orders in front of the employees, making him look like a fool. While he’d grown
accustomed to daily betrayals from his father, he'd never expected it from
Carrie…not in a million years. And for it to happen in a situation where he was
clearly in the right…

Yet, her
apology opened the possibility she hadn’t betrayed him. She claimed if he had
known her reasoning, he would have agreed. If true, then only his temper had
jumped in before he could come to her way of thinking.

He gripped her
hand. “Tell me your rationale.”

She relived
the moments before Armageddon accurately. Most people altered the past when
trying to justify their actions, but Carrie’s view precisely matched his up
until the point where she saw panic in the boy’s eyes. He’d seen it too, but
assumed the boy feared his wrath. However, Carrie correctly recalled the kid
panicked when the clock on his desk began to blink.