Final Destination III (3 page)

I breathed a loud sigh of relief. Thank goodness!

“Can I see her?” I asked.

“Yes. She’s awake now and asked to see you.”

I turned to Ari. He jerked his chin, signaling me to follow the doctor. “I’ll wait for you here.” His frosty voice sent a chill down my spine.

Lauren’s room was a far cry from my mother’s sterile, shoebox-size hospital room. It was a suite with bleached hardwood floors, sleek white leather furnishings, and pale gray silk drapes. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the sparkling city. Lauren, in a hospital bed, was propped up on plump pillows and covered with a luxurious white duvet. An IV was attached to her arm. She looked pale and tired. I planted a kiss on her forehead and plunked down in the armchair next to her bed.

“Hi,” she said weakly.

“Hi.” This was awkward.

“Thanks for being there for me. The doctor said I’m going to be okay.”

“I’m glad. But you’ve got to get some help when you get out of here. Promise?”

“Promise.” She asked me to pass her the water that was on her nightstand. She took a sip through the straw. “How did I get here?”

“Ari drove you here. You don’t have to worry about your parents finding out. He’s got it all covered.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “He’s a great guy. Have you slept with him yet?”

Only Lauren would have sex on her brain right after a suicide attempt. I nodded, my heart aching inside. In reality, we had never actually slept together nor would we ever.

My BFF’s face brightened. “Sarah, don’t let him go.”

Her words made my stomach churn. “Well, you’d better get some rest. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

Lauren closed her eyes, and I tiptoed out of the room. Oh, how love could hurt!

In the waiting room, Ari was on his cell phone. When he heard my footsteps, he ended the call and gazed up at me. Concern was written all over his face.

“How is she?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

An awful, anxious feeling consumed me. Longing. I desperately wanted to be in his arms. Feel the warmth of his breath… his heartbeat against mine… the heat of his member. “Well, I’d better be going. I’ll take a cab.” I could use his hundred dollar bill. No need for that anymore.

“No. I’ll take you home.” It was a gruff order.

“Actually, I’m staying over my boyfriend’s apartment.” I don’t know what made me go back to the masquerade. In fact, take it up a notch. My heart quivered.

Ari pressed his lip together. “Fine.” He stabbed the word at me. “Just tell me where it is; I’ll drop you off.”

When we got into the Bentley, I gave him the swank address of Lauren’s parents’ apartment. 50 Sutton Place South.

“So, your boyfriend must do well.”

“He does a lot of things well.” When I saw the hurt look on Ari’s face, I immediately regretted my words. His long fingers tensed on the steering wheel as he stepped on the gas and peeled off the curb. Wishing I could take back what I said, we drove the short distance in silence. Not once did he turn his head to look at me. When we pulled up to the elegant apartment building, the white-gloved doorman ran up to the car and opened the passenger door for me.

There was no teary good-bye. Ari was gone before I could say good night and thank him for his kindness. I watched his Bentley fade into the distance with my eyes watering. When I was sure he was not coming back, I walked home, leaving a trail of tears behind me.

2

O
NCE AGAIN, SLEEP ELUDED ME. I spent most of the night, gazing up at the ceiling, and thinking about my decision to stop seeing Ari. My pack of lies haunted me. I had hurt him. Hurt him terribly. I hated myself for what I had done almost as much as I hated Catherine. Finally, when I dozed off, Jo-Jo woke me up, nuzzling his head against my chest and meowing loudly. I dragged myself out of bed and knew I had to pull myself together. Today was Catherine’s big boys’ toyline presentation to Ike and the design team, and I was going to have to be the one to pull it together and make her look good. What I really wanted to do was sic a pack of rabid dogs on her.

After a feeding Jo-Jo and downing a cup of coffee, I debated whether to go for a jog. I was tired but stressed. And depressed. In the end, I decided to go for a quick run in the park, in lieu of my neighborhood, hoping that it would lift my spirits.

The decision was a good one. The air was cool and invigorating, and the early morning light that beamed through the trees along the lower loop was almost magical. All I thought about was running and making it through the countless hills and vales of this verdant path. The circle was a little less than two miles. I got off at Sixth Avenue and Central Park South. Watching out for bikers, I bent over and stretched my calves.

“Well, Sarah, fancy seeing you here.” I straightened up immediately, my eyes traversing a pair of very long, lean, muscular legs. My eyes met hers. Standing before me was Gwen, dressed for a jog in black runner shorts and a sweatshirt that said Wellesley. Her flaming red hair was gathered in a ponytail.

“So, have you thought about my offer?” she asked coyly.

“I’m not seeing your brother anymore.” My voice was stiff.

She flashed a smug smile. “I knew you’d come around. I’ll draw up a settlement offer later today and send it your way. Does two million dollars sound fair and reasonable?”

Two million dollars?
I gulped. Two million pennies would have sounded like a boatload of money. Gosh! There was so much I could do with so much money. Get my own apartment! Quit my job! Buy a car and pay off my bills! And best of all, pay for my mother’s cancer treatments in style!

The temptation was great. So many of my problems would be solved. Yet, there was something so very wrong about accepting the money. This was not how my mother raised me. She raised me to be a kind person, with a good heart and strong moral compass. I was taught to work hard for the things I wanted in life. “Remember the three’s P’s,” my mother always said. “Be
P
ersistent.
P
atient.
P
assionate.” In my heart, I knew my mother would rather die than have me accept a bribe.

And there was the one thing all that money in the world could not buy me. The man I loved. Ari.

I looked straight into Gwen’s eyes. Without a blink, I hissed, “Keep your money. I don’t want it.” She gaped. I ran off without looking back.

By the time I got back to my apartment, the temperature had risen. I was hot and sweaty. After a quick, cold shower, I hastily donned my work uniform—a mid-calf peasant skirt, a t-shirt, and my combat boots, and then at last minute, changed into one of Ari’s floral sundresses. I still wanted to be attached to him in any way I could. I grabbed my messenger bag and my skateboard and flew out the door. I had no regrets about any of the decisions I had made this morning. Even the one to leave my apartment pantyless.

There were no flowers waiting for me when I got to my desk. And I had a feeling there would be no phone calls from him today either. Guilt mingled with sadness. I had hurt him last night. Scarred by love before, he was not looking for another train wreck. My Trainman was out of my life. Gone. It was the price I had to pay.

I turned on my computer and checked my emails. The usual, absurd “To Do” list from Catherine née Cassandra, popped up on my screen. I hated this snake-tongued woman with a passion. She had ruined Ari’s life. And now she had ruined mine. I told myself that I would talk to Human Resources later today and see if I could transfer to another department. There was no way I could continue to work for the bitch and respect myself. The chances of getting a different position were slim, but I had to give it a try. Sadly, the chances of winning back Ari were none. A horrible wave of depression swept over me.

With Catherine still not in the office, I had the opportunity to make a couple of personal phone calls. First, I called my mother, who was looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. The sound of her voice, which was growing stronger every day, temporarily cheered me up. I so wanted to tell her about everything that was going on in my life, but the last thing I wanted to do was worry her.

Next, I called Lauren. She sounded much better, in fact, chipper. Whatever “happy pill” they were giving her, I wanted too. Chatting non-stop, she told me how the delicious the food was, just like a five-star hotel, and informed me that she had flushed Taylor’s engagement ring down the toilet. So like her to do that—my drama queen friend. The most exciting news was that her hospital suite was the one Beyoncé had stayed in when she gave birth to her baby. “Can you believe I’m sleeping in the same bed as Beyoncé?” she squeed. Lauren was definitely on the road to recovery.

Just as I hung up the phone, Catherine came flying in like a storm. “Ike just called me and moved up the concept meeting to nine o’clock. Let’s go.”

Grabbing the file, I followed her as she raced down the hall to the boardroom. Ike and the design team, including Fernando, were already there.

“Good morning, everyone,” said Catherine taking a seat and looking perfectly composed. “I’ve come up with several very exciting concepts for the next big boys’ toy.”

I cringed as I handed her the file.
I’ve come up with…
You mean, your assistant has come up with… The psycho bitch had no problem stealing anything from me. Including the man whose heart might have been mine.

Catherine stood up, and one by one, she went through the concepts. Dressed in another one of her classic Chanel suits, she was a dynamic pitch person, a skill she likely cultivated during her supermodel days. Fernando once told me she could sell a dick to a dyke. I believed him.

Ike sat at the head of the table, listening intently to each idea. His expression was impassive, making it hard to tell if he liked any of them. There were two concepts left—Fancy Fellows and Combat Wombats.”

You could tell that Catherine was very high on the boys’ fashion dolls concept. “Just imagine the tie-ins to top fashion designers. And the merchandising and licensing opportunities. I can already see a whole line of grooming products for little boys!”

I glanced at Ike. As Catherine continued to reel off all of the possible product extensions of this “breakthrough boys’ lifestyle brand” including a father-like-son clothing line, Ike’s eyes widened. I couldn’t tell if the idea for a boys’ fashion doll line amazed or appalled him.

Finally, Catherine pitched Combat Wombats. I must say she pitched it with conviction, showing enthusiasm for the environment-protecting marsupial action figures and the product extensions I had flushed out—including the Wombatmobile and the Mutant Pollutants, the evil villains. She told Ike and the team that the idea was inspired by her recent trip to Australia. Fernando looked my way and rolled his eyes. I loved Fernando!

When she was done presenting, Catherine thanked everyone and took her seat. Ike remained silent. Finally, he said, “I’m intrigued with that last concept. An environmentally conscious action figure line is a very novel idea.”

My face lit up;
Ike liked my idea!
To my surprise, he turned to me. “Ms. Greene, what do you think?”

“I think Combat Wombats has the potential to be the next blockbuster toy.”

Ike broke into a big smile while my evil boss simmered. “That’s exactly what I think!”

He turned to Catherine. “Catherine, nice job. I want to you to work with the design team and have a mockup of Combat Wombats on my desk by next Friday.”

“Of course,” beamed Catherine, feigning enthusiasm.

Bitch!
I could no longer look at her without thoughts of violence.

The meeting was adjourned, and I accompanied a miffed Catherine back to her office. She flung the concept file on my desk. “I want nothing to do with those Wombatty things. I am looking to you to work with the design team to develop the toyline.”

“I would love to,” I replied. I actually was looking forward to this opportunity, even though I knew she would take credit for everything. She marched into her office, but paused at the doorway. She twirled her pearls.

“And just one more thing, Sarah.”

Now what?

“Have you stopped seeing
my
husband?”

Her question was a knife to my heart. I vomited the words: “I’m no longer seeing Ari.”

She smiled smugly. “Excellent. You have a future here with me.” She stepped into her office and slammed the door behind her.

I immediately got to work on Combat Wombats. I fleshed out the personalities of each of the heroes and decided to name them after Australian cities—team leader Mel (short of for Melbourne), bruiser Perth, brainiac Brisbane, and last but not least, Sydney, the kick-ass girl wombat. The concept was quickly shaping up. An image of Ari’s son playing with the action figures flashed into my head. He was my inspiration. A pang of sadness shot through me.

At noon, Catherine emerged from her office, carrying her Chanel briefcase. “I’ll be out of the office for the remainder of the afternoon. Please screen my calls and only contact me if something’s urgent.” With a fling of her waist-length ebony hair, she sashayed to the bank of elevators.