Work and Play Pt. 11

"You are with someone, though, yeah?" he says quickly. "Cause it makes sense. Turning Sean down, and... and the late night stuff. And the hickies that one week. And the pillows."

"You're my boss," I cut him off. My heart races. I haven't been as secretive as I've thought. At all. Maybe Grayson is just paying close attention. "You need to stay out of my business."

"You're right. I'm being inappropriate," he scoffs, and then heads out, shaking his head the whole time. I sit still, speechless. Suddenly my life is so fucking interesting and everyone wants to know what's going on. "Highest standards ever maybe."

"I'd love if you told me what that meant," I snap back. Grayson leaves.

So maybe he's not over me. Maybe he's trying to see what I'll bite because he's still salty about me turning him down. How petty is that. I wonder why he's prying when his new man is in the building.

_____________

I bring Shannon a strudel from the break room, which someone so graciously left. I wish I cared enough to bring treats to work. Shannon invites me into her office, and instructs to close the door.

"So, I think this little scandal is getting bigger and bigger. Tracy is really coming after Gabriel," Shannon says, almost excitedly. "I mean, the dude is making Gabriel a news headline whenever he can."

It makes me wonder why she's deciding to tell me all of this, but I shrug and come over to her computer anyway. The headline reads:

ORTEGATECH VICE CHAIRMAN CALLS OFF WEDDING AMIDST DISCRIMINATION CASE

"Like, damn. This dude is going through it over there." Shannon sighs. I ignore her, and lean in closer to the screen.

"Gabriel Ortega, Vice Chairman of family-company OrtegaTech, is fighting more than a lawsuit: he's fighting love. Sources of the 32 year-old techie confirm that the wedding between Gabriel Ortega and fiancée, 25 year-old Yennifer Velasquez has been called off. The couple had shared over four years of romance before the outbreaking lawsuit undoubtedly send shockwaves into the water. The nuptials, set for late September this year, was estimated to cost a hefty $735,000. Sources have not confirmed whether or not the couple would be separating following the wedding cancellation."

"That's fucking nuts," I whisper. Shannon nods in agreement. "He had a—"

"A whole-ass fiancée. That man is going THROUGH it. I doubt anyone cares about him and this lady, but that shit is still crazy. I think he's one of those dudes to snap, you know?"

"I don't," I counter, skimming through the rest of the article. No mention of Tracy's fraud. Pictured: Yennifer Velasquez. She has flowy brown hair and blonde highlights. Pretty, but simple face. Slim nose, brown skin. She's slim all around. She's small, maybe 5'6". She's 25. They are pictured together, at a gala maybe. His hair was shorter then. Completely clean-shaven. I can't stop looking.

"You excited to have your sister here?" Shannon asks. I almost don't catch what she says. "I mean, even if it is just a ninety-day thing."

"Yeah, Beth is—" I blink, trying to get the information I just learned to stop pounding in my brain. "she's a good kid... I'm happy."

"You don't sound happy," Shannon chuckles. She clicks something else on the screen. I gulp and force a small smile.

"Sorry, that shit with Gabriel is troubling. Like, damn. You-you gotta break up with your fiancée because some old dude from your company is trying to fuck up your life."

"Right?" Shannon agrees.

She has no idea.

____________

There's no mention of the article anywhere else, and when Gabriel texts me days later, he doesn't seem to think I know. I just respond lightly, accordingly. It lasts for maybe half an hour, the texting. I feel almost betrayed. I feel like I don't have a right to be. I feel like there were signs that I missed, or that maybe I'm supposed to know these things all along. I mean, his girlfriend would be on the internet, right? Just because I didn't see it doesn't mean he didn't expect me to know. I should've known. I could've known.

Jiao... why did she egg me on? Why didn't she care that he was cheating? Is that why they broke up? No, no. How stupid it would be to think he broke up with his girlfriend of four years for a man he's only known for a month and a half, and only liked for a few weeks. I'm some kind of outlier. I must be a fluke. I don't even know if a wedding called off is a break-up. I feel the anxiety forming a nauseous knot in my stomach.

I sit at home, looking at pictures of sheltered dogs. Something clicked in my brain that it isn't something I should wait for. I don't have to wait for more stability. What is that, anyway? I'm sure Yessica Velasquez thought she was stable. I'm sure she thought Gabriel would go to Colorado and fix his company and make some more fuckin' money and their wedding would be great. I'm sure she didn't expect him to screw up their lives for some random young idiot to fix some homo-curious itch in his body.

This border collie reminds me of myself. His name is Patches. He's brownish-red. Sad. His info says he was abandoned. Me, too, Patches. Fuck.

I tell Patches bye, close my laptop, and eye a warm beer on the counter. What happens if I get drunk by myself? As I stand up to contemplate a better choice—a cold beer, perhaps—I hear a knock at the door. I swiftly make my way over, checking through the peephole, to find a man with a box. My heart beats fast. I rush to my window, and then smack my own forehead. UPS. I check my watch: 8:37. I suppose things can be delivered late. By the time I've gone back to my door, the delivery man has already retreated as well, leaving the package on my doorstep. I instantly snatch it inside.

Patience is nothing as I grab the nearest sharp object—keys—and tear open the box, just to scrunch my face in confusion. It's a bottle of champagne with a tiny red ribbon at the top, wrapped in some clothes. Not just any clothes; my older brother's clothes. I realize these are the items I gave Gabriel a while back. I do a million calculations in my head. If he sent them by mail... he isn't coming back anytime soon. Not in a week and a half. Not soon enough to think he'll be able to give them to me. I gulp, shaking my head and clenching my teeth. I see a note.

"Zeke,

Enjoy this champagne, and the crystal glass—"

I stop reading and immediately rip the wine bottle from the box to find a bubble-wrapped object. I open it, holding the small glass in my hand. It reflects the lights in the room. I scrunch my nose up. Is he trying to buy his way into my mind? He leaves the tag on again: "PELLETIER: REAL QUARTZ." I shrug. I guess a glass made from crystals is Gabriel's style. I won't bother looking up the brand. Probably not $735,000 worth but who fucking knows?

"I did some extra digging to make sure the champagne was one you liked. Unfortunately, I cannot share this drink with you, the way I want to. There is... too much work to be done here. I do not know when I will see you again. Things are complicated. I am complicated. Please, think of me regardless. I am always thinking of you.

-Gabriel"

I frown at the note. Everything seems like a slap in the face. He doesn't get to leave me some short, unclear message and justify disappearing on me. He left out a big part of his personal life. I can't just ignore that.

I grip my phone tight, and click on his contact, still saved "G," and press dial. It rings. And rings. And when I think it's going to cut to voicemail, he picks up.

"Hey."

"Got the stuff," I say plainly. Gabriel pauses.

"Stuff... just stuff, I guess."

"Gabe, when are you coming back?" I ask, slumped in my armchair. I eye the champagne, and am really considering consoling myself. "And... why am I feeling like things are shit right now?"

"Look. I—I am going through a lot here. Especially with the company, and some other things. That's why I brought Jiao. She's saving me here."

It bites. Is he going to mention his damn fiancée? I obsessively check the article every few hours. Only a few hundred viewers. He must think I don't know. "Well, you do have, I dunno, PR, and other people to be helping you out. And it doesn't seem like that's happening." I can't believe I'm not freaking out on him. Maybe it's because I don't know what his face looks like right now.

"I wish the company were on my side the way you are, Zeke. That's just not the reality. I am THE person who caught Tracy on this bullshit. And he made some promises to other people in the company. It's a lot bigger than the news even fucking knows. And very soon here, I will be using my resources. Trust me."

"WHEN are you coming back?" I ask. He says nothing. "Alright, bye—"

"A few months."

Ouch. "Okay. No clue then. Thanks for the glass, and the drink, and the clarity."

"Don't hate me," he says, and I feel something in his voice. I can't pinpoint it. It feels like hurt, but more than that. I don't know what he needs from me right now. He'll be spending more time away from me than he ever spent with me. I suspect those few months might be to repair a different relationship.

"I don't even know you well enough to hate you," I scoff. Nothing. "Guess I'll see you in another bombed interview." He says nothing. He doesn't even have a retort for me.

Fluke. FLUKE. FLUKE.

That's me.

"Zeke, I have a lot of things to fix. And I will talk to you soon."

I shake my head and hang up, leaning even further back in my chair. I stare at the ceiling, trying to control my tics, my wild breathing. All this, over a man. I wish I left him alone.

--------

I come into work determined to get back to routine. Before Gabe, before Clay—hell, even before Grayson. I was focused. I was annoying and uptight, yes. But focused. Gabriel's absence makes sense in my quest to become CEO anyway. That's something I haven't even thought about as often as I should. Something that only happens once every, what? fifteen years? I'm not going to throw out my chance at becoming—

"Hey, Zeke, a minute?" Grayson asks, stepping into the break room. He followed me over here.

"What's up?" I ask, and I feel my lips pout with attitude.

"I was out of line a bit ago. I just feel like... you've always kept things from me as your friend. And I was taking it personally instead of realizing that's just... who you are. I do think you deserve a private life. A really, really, really private life, apparently," he chuckles, then clears his throat. "I'm a chronic over-sharer. I expect everyone to be the same. Tell me to fuck off if you need to."

I squint, mock-accusingly. "You were keeping TABS on me," I tease.

"Look, I won't ever say anything again! No matter how much I wanna pry. Or how much I think you had a wild little fling and didn't wanna tell meee—"

"Oh, see? You're still doing it!" I laugh. Grayson puts his hands up defensively. "Grayson, I think my life is probably more boring than both you and I think it is."

"That's probably true." Grayson shakes his head, and we sip on our respective drinks. "But... it wasn't David, for real?"

"No!"

________________

ONE WEEK LATER

"Mrs. Seaman, I do indeed have you scheduled for Friday at 3pm," I say nicely. The older woman laughs in delight. She laughs at everything. Every time I hear her laugh I start to sweat, because I can't not notice it now. It's really a cackle. I think we're nearing the end of the call, but she insists on saying something else.

"Oh, goodness. You sound like my nephew." She laughs again. I gulp.

"Ah, how funny," I comment, and hear a knock at my door. A familiar face peeks in, and I usher her inside.

Marsha, the secretary. Bully for her. "Well, Mrs. Seaman, I am delighted to hear from you again, and look forward to our meeting. Yes, have a wonderful day." I look toward her, expectantly. She giggles.

"Seaman?" she asks. I nod. "I know too many Seamans. Unfortunate name. I'm Marsha. I remember you from that... horrible day. Ezekiel Hartigan?"

"Zeke. I remember you as well. How's Shannon treating you?"

"Well, it's day two. I'd say it's going pretty damn well. I think my stress-ulcers are gone," she says, half-jokingly. She looks around briefly. "I think you're the only one whose like, under thirty here besides me."

My mind flashes to Clay for some reason, and how different things would be if he were still here. "You came at a great time. Sometimes people get cocky. And ageist. But Shannon is our HR float, so," I shrug. "You're in good hands. Nobody should bother you."

Marsha smiles bright. "Thanks, Zeke." I can't help but smile as she walks away. A new face that isn't going to try and fuck everyone's lives up. I wonder how people thought when I came here. I guess it doesn't matter.

It's midday, and I've decided to order some food to the office instead of munching on Slim Jims or buying a cheap sandwich. My stomach growls loudly, but my driver seems to be stuck on an intersection ten minutes away. Either that, or my phone is frozen. I tap my foot incessantly, and only make minimal efforts to stop.

Minutes later, my phone makes the satisfying chime to remind me to pick up my pho noodles and bread as my driver nears. Four minutes away. I walk by Sean and Shannon, who seem to be cracking up over something on the computer. I wonder if I can get away with being sneaky. I wonder if it's about Gabriel.

"Whole time, I'm basically tryna use sign language tellin' this bitch she is hanging out of her—oh, Zeke!" Sean snaps his head my way, and they both share more laughs. I chuckle as well. Not about Gabriel, I presume.

"You guys are having a great time in here," I comment, and they share a Look, cracking up some more.

"I guess you can know. My friend was on the news. Her titty was out," Shannon says, and she and Sean instantly start laughing.

"Oh, that's terrible," I huff with an awkward smile. They share a Look again, and I realize I might have interrupted something. "I mean... is she okay?"

"She's fine," Shannon waves me off. "Look, it's on the computer. They had to blur her big ass titty—"

I am definitely out of my element on this one. Three minutes left. I need to head toward the elevator. I try to laugh along with the story, but I just look like the awkward white kid, so I find a way to sneak away. I think Shannon and Sean picked up on that, and they can't help but burst out laughing even harder the second I leave. Doesn't matter. Noodles, noodles, noodles.

I hop into the elevator as some of my colleagues exit, and I happily bob along to the music as I make my way down to meet the driver. On the third floor, a rush of people comes in, and on floor two, they all exit. Must be a big meeting. I shrug and check my phone. One minute.

I stare down at my phone, exiting my apps, as the elevator dings for the first floor. I walk out, only to nearly run into the incoming patron. I look up as he steps into the sliding doors.

"Zeke. Hey."

My mouth drops. My phone chimes.

Gabriel.

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A/N: What does it mean? Is this real life? Rate 5 stars and comment your thoughts. I read all comments. Thank you for reading.