Zenith Falling (8 page)

Nick started work at six a.m. sharp every day, and stayed until well past seven most evenings. He was well aware that he was a workaholic, and saw no reason to change that. He took time out for his family; his sisters’ numerous odd demands and grievances, and his mother, who relied on him still for everything. He had an active social life with a girlfriend, and plenty of friends, both male and female. He had no issues with how his life had turn
ed out. He made more money than he ever dreamed about. He was far more successful than even he intended to be. He was no longer awed by the kind of money he now had access too, or the kind of lifestyle he quickly became accustomed to.

Still
, he rarely did anything spontaneous, like asking a girl he hardly knew to work for him; let alone, going out of his way to ask her. What the hell kind of game was he playing? What was he going to do with her here? She didn’t fit into the office he created, which was very upscale and professional. Men still wore suits and women wore skirts. No one dressed in business casual; they dressed professionally.

But… Joelle needed help. He knew it in his gut, and he felt compelled to make her problems, somehow, his problems. Where he was headed, though,
in his pursuit of her, began to concern him.

Bev announced Joelle’s arrival on Monday morning, and Nick glanced at the clock to see it was three minutes until eight. She was punctual. Good. Nick came out and stopped short in his doorway.

Joelle’s hair wasn’t blue anymore. It was still unnaturally dark and harsh, but the bright streaks of color were gone. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, thick knot, very slick and neat. Not the wild strays or casual tweaks of hair that her elaborate updos usually featured. He wondered what her story was with that knot. Why did she always have her hair so tightly drawn from her face?

She left out all of her visible body piercings. Her makeup was softer, subtler
and allowed her face to shine through more. She wore a long-sleeved, dark sweater that covered up her tattoos, and a long black skirt, with almost feminine black boots that went up to her knees. They were far nicer than the usual combat-like boots she wore.

Joelle was pretty. There was never any denying that. She had a small, heart-shaped face, dark black eyes, and an endearing, unsure, almost nervous smile
; all of which she kept carefully hidden under heavy metal and strange, unnatural colors.

“Come in,” Nick said abruptly, feeling Bev’s stare on him
as he gawked, nearly open- mouthed, at Joelle. Bev was probably suspicious about his reasons for having anything to do with such a lowly hire in the billing department.

Once she entered his office, they just stared each other; their relationship had suddenly changed from acquaintances to employer/employee.
She nervously twisted her fingers together.

He tilted his head in appraisal of her.
“How come you look so different today?”

“Shouldn’t I? I mean, I can’t work here with blue hair. I realized that before I accepted the offer.”

“I didn’t make any stipulations like that.”

“I’d have to be an idiot to think I looked appropriate if I wanted to work here.”

“And you were willing to change?”

“Obviously. I need money more than I need to be
–”

He waited for her to explain what she needed to be, and why having blue and pink hair, spoke so much to her. Even with her changes, however, she was very different from most of
Next Generation Consulting
employees.

“I appreciate you giving me the job and just wanted you to know I was serious about not blowing my chance.”

She was desperate. He knew that. He knew it the first time he recognized her in the church parking lot. Why she was so shocked that he recognized her as Trina’s old friend, he couldn’t figure out. He simply looked across the sidewalk that evening and saw Joelle. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Trina’s old friend. So she had on grungy jeans, and heavy, almost ridiculously manly, black combat boots, with a man’s coat that she drowned in. She had hoops in her lip, in her eyebrow, and several small dots in her nose. Her tongue constantly played with the stud in her lip. He didn’t think she was aware of it, as it seemed to be a nervous habit. It was impossible not to watch. Her little pink tongue darted out, the tip licking, playing, and turning around the silver ball. It must have been uncomfortable as hell. Still, he watched her do it repeatedly and found it almost unconscious on her part, and oddly sexual.

The thing
impossible not to notice was her blue hair. It varied in streaks of black and blue, and it was odd. He’d grown used to it, however, after seeing her a couple of times and it now seemed normal for her to have it. She was small, like a child, and her body was as flat and skinny as a young boy. Her height seemed stunted, even by middle school standards. She wore her clothes at least one size too big. There was nothing to ogle, no curves to stare at, and yet… he did. He stared at her breathtaking face. She had that unique look even back in high school, when it was literally a statutory mistake for him to notice her. But notice her did, just as he did now.

What the hell? Why? Because she seemed so pathetic when she curled up,
as if defeated, in his car? It only made him want to protect her, soothe her, and slay her fucking dragons. Like dragging her away from her loser husband. So? She was pathetic. She was young. So he reacted to that. It didn’t mean anything was wrong with him. He sensed desperation in her that could stimulate her desire to achieve, and to work. He sensed she’d have a deep loyalty to whoever helped her; and it was strictly a professional loyalty that he sought, and a professional relationship that he foresaw for them.

“Is it enough?”

He snapped back to the present. “What?”

“You were silent so long, I tho
ught maybe I still didn’t look right.”

“You look fine. I was thinking more why I offered you this job.”

She tilted her head in puzzlement and he shifted his feet under her scrutiny.“I figured you had that worked out already, but why did you?”

“Because you needed it.”

She smiled wanly. “Is it that obvious?”

“That you could use a break? Yeah
, it is.”

“Lately, I can’t seem to get my shoes tied correctly, so it feels nice to be
… noticed, and thought of, and believed in.”

He turned away and
went behind his desk, seeking the professional barrier of it to keep him from looking into her eyes. But it was mostly to keep him from asking her why she had so thoroughly attached herself to such a loser husband. It was time to turn to business, and keep it there, and he knew he had to keep them in familiar territory of which he was sure about.

“So you’ll go down one floor to Suite 1043, where Judy Hemmings
, our human resource manager, will get you started. She’ll show you to your desk and your department. From there, you’ll meet your manager, Steve Applebaum. He’s a good guy and will answer all your questions.”

“There are two floors?”

“Three. This, however, is the only one that visitors can easily access. There’s a private elevator at the end of this hall that will take you to the rest of the company offices.”

“At what point will I learn what exactly we do?”

He shook his head and his lips curled up in small smile. “You might not completely. But you’ll learn everything you need to know for your job.”

“Which has nothing to do with what you do in your job?”

“No. Nothing.”

“And these people… Are they under orders to tolerate me because you gave me this job?”

“No. Only Bev knows anything about my involvement. They don’t know anything about you. You’re all on your own from here.”

“Good.”

“Why’s that good?”

“Because then they won’t hate me and think the boss brought me in. So everyone calls you Mr. Lassiter
, right?”

He nodded. When he first put the company together, it always felt odd to be “Mr. Lassiter” to so many people, and to be in charge, as the leader, the boss, and the final decision-maker. That was years ago though
, and now, he rarely thought about it, or even noticed it. He’d been running his little empire for six years now. Somehow, hearing Joelle’s questions brought it into sharper focus. And it felt a bit strange to hear Joelle calling him something so distant and formal.

“I hope this works out for you.”

“I’ll see that it does. Thank you… Nick.”

She
walked out, and he watched her disappear down the corridor. He turned away abruptly as the door clicked shut. Glaring out of the gorgeous view of his office windows, he thought,
This was absurd.
He was practically leering at one of his employees, and a married, new employee at that. He never dated anyone who worked for him, and never, under any conditions, orchestrated friendly overtures toward married women.

Until now.

He would not start with Joelle Williams. He had to stop it now. He would forget Joelle, and see her as any other employee, or as his little sister’s old friend. So what if she were a lost, vulnerable girl, married to a man who would suck every ounce of life and happiness from her? That was her prerogative, not his. Not his business. She was no longer his concern as of now, other than pertaining to work.

Next Generation Consulting
was the last place Joelle ever thought she’d find herself. She was working downtown! In one of the big, posh, professional skyscrapers. It was unbelievable. She now possessed the title of Administrative Assistant to the head of Accounting. The titles were numerous and meant nothing to her. Why couldn’t she just be called a secretary? It was a lot less confusing, but she couldn’t have been happier about it. To her surprise, she turned out to be good at it too. It wasn’t really difficult, just multi-tasking: lots of phone calls, note taking, filing, copying, and computer work.

She worked longer hours th
an she ever had before. She got up at five a.m. just to get into the office on time. At precisely five o’clock p.m., she went straight to the hair salon where she worked until nine and all day Saturday. She started feeling better, despite the long hours. Her new job was very fulfilling, and by the end of the month, she started to feel a marginal amount of pride for her success in working at Nick’s company. Plus, she was making more money than she ever had before. She managed to pay Nick back with more each week than she guessed she could afford.

She
had to quit going to her Al-Anon meetings because she now worked each evening. But that was okay. She was feeling better, all the way around, so maybe it wasn’t really something she needed anyway. She rarely saw Nick except from a distance here and there. Once, they passed in the hallway, but he was in a deep discussion with someone, and he no more than nodded as he passed her. She was relieved. He really did just give her the job to help her out, and never sought out her company after that. He treated as he would any other lowly secretary in his firm. By giving her the job, he was only being friendly to her, and that made her like him all that much more.

She was gone so much of the time
that she and Rob rarely got together. Rob was out late every night, and she was gone early each morning. It made his incessant drinking easier for her to tolerate because she witnessed it less often. She had only a handful of hours to spend at the house. She could pretend none of it was happening far easier by not being there to see it. But Rob didn’t like her new schedule. She was gone too much, and Rob kept nagging her to make his performances.

After several weeks of missing all of them, she promised she’d go the following Saturday night. Despite having to work until nine, with her feet killing her, and laundry to do, and although she could have used a decent meal, she agreed to go. Rob had, she rationalized, been on his own for weeks. He missed her; and needed her company and support. His music, he said, didn’t mean as much t
o him without her there to hear it… so she went.

It was noisy in the club that used to vibrate with fun and loud music to her. Now, she found it smoky and smelling of sweat and spilled alcohol, where it once encouraged her to grab a drink and start dancing. The club was too hot, physically making her sweat, although she used to feel quite at home walk
ing through the tangle of bodies. Why did it seem so different to her now? So much less? It felt a lot less than it used to. And that bothered her and scared her.
Zenith
took the stage, and rocked it out for a while. Then finally, Rob sang, as he was meant to sing. It was a slow, beautiful ballad and closing her eyes, Joelle was lifted up to the sky. Her eyes popped open when the lyrics registered. The song was new, and it was about
her
: Joelle. Her name was the song’s title. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she looked up to find Rob’s gaze locked on her. His expression was hot and intense and directed only at her. It was a beautiful moment; one that took her back to the beginning, back to their first years together. More tears filled her eyes, and she blinked to hold them back. Why was she tearing up? Because she was so touched? Or because those feelings no longer existed between Rob and her now?

But why? Why did her feelings change? I
n that moment, she didn’t know if they had simply grown up and changed, or chosen opposite directions. She wished she could say right then and there what she felt, or knew what was going on between them. But she couldn’t.

She decided to sit there for the four minutes of the song, allowing Rob’s voice to fill her up, and let her love for him feel brand new and boiling over inside her. She could do that. She could enjoy his music, and remember what they were once like. Slowly, the song came to a soft, almost fade-out ending. Beautiful. Haunting. But, somehow eerily too quiet. Was the song Rob’s way of telling her he loved the “old them,” and that the couple they were back then seemed to be fading quietly, and almost imperceptibly away?

There was loud clapping after a moment of surprising silence when Rob sang the last note. Perhaps the crazy
, doped-up crowd actually got what a beautiful, talented, magnificent songwriter Rob was, with a beautiful voice to match. Then after a quick bow, the band started up again, loud and hard. The crowd went back to bumping, grinding, drinking and sweating.

Joelle just sat there,
stunned. Would Rob ever write a song that would finally make him a star? Because if ever there were such a song, Joelle believed this one might do it. And if he did, how would she fit into that?

When she glanced up, found Nick Lassiter standing at the edge of the crowd, looking straight at her.