10 Things I Hate about You

 

Who can say why your heart sighs as your love flies…

-Enya

 

 

KAT

 

I couldn’t find the fucking restaurant. Not at first, anyway.

The rain fell heavily now, showering the world with grey. Light midday showers turned into a downpour by dusk, and I tried my best to walk my way through it, ducking and diving in a pair of heels too tall to be sensible. I was late. Thunder rumbled as I dipped through traffic to cross the street and as I did, I felt a rumbling in my own core, that sinking feeling that makes your stomach drop and you knees go weak.

I guess that's because I finally noticed him. Sitting there. The windows in the restaurant were open, and as I slushed in my silk dress up towards the entrance, I could see him past the glass.

He was just as I had remembered. Tall and slender. He wore a tie too loud in color to be appropriate and though his dark hair was too slick for my tastes, his shoes too fucking shiny for me to take seriously, I could admit: in a lot of ways, he was handsome.

I lowered my briefcase. Stepping into the swanky steakhouse, I swatted swathes of rainwater off my skirt and shoulders. I straightened my back and handed my umbrella to the host. I walked towards the tall lanky man with a pep in my step and a thundering in my heart.

I sat down… just as he took the first sip of his drink. I smiled, wide and bold.

"Hello, Charlie.”

He looked over at me. “Miss Khvostova. Wow. You get lovelier and lovelier every time I see you.”

“Don't you mean older? We were just babies when we first met Charlie. Now look at us. Deep into our careers. More well-paid and somehow less satisfied.”

I raise my hand for the waiter’s attention. Charlie just smiled.

“Depends what kind of satisfaction you're talking about there, Kat. I’d say I'm plenty satisfied where it counts.”

“If I remember correctly, for you, satisfaction only counted in one place. Or maybe you've changed. Maybe you've stopped sleeping with your superiors and found a real job. One where you didn't have to dick your way to the top. Literally.”

I ordered a daiquiri from the waiter and sat back. Charlie's grin never cracked.

“These were all adult women, Kat. I never force anybody to do anything. I never had to. I'm the number one journalist on the East Coast because I get what I want, not because I want what I can't get.”

“And I'm guessing your bosses were easy pickings?”

“Easy enough.”

He sat his glass down, tapping his fingers along the edge.

“But enough about me. What about you? I heard a fire tore through your offices. A damn shame. Maybe if you had a journalist like me working for you, you could recoup your losses. I bring in more money than all of the top ten editors combined.”

“And more drama to boot. I didn't ask you here to offer you a job, Charlie. I asked you here because I need a favor. A little mission, if you will.”

“You’ve got my attention…”

I leaned in. “I want to know what you've heard on the streets. What's going on in the publishing world. We got some new sharks in town. Big ones. I need to know how ruthless the sharks are. What they're capable of. What length they will go to in order to win.”

“You're asking me to spy on people?”

“I'm asking you to keep your ears to the street.”

“And by streets…” Charlie hesitated. “… I'm assuming you're talking about Brendon Foxx’s block, perhaps?”

I felt ill. “How did you know?”

“He’s the new fish in our little pond. Not hard to figure out.”

I twirled my straw. “What do you know about the Foxxes?”

Charlie shrugged. “I know he's as big of a shark as any of them. Ruthless. He acquires anything that's in his way, buys up an entire town. He crushes his competition with his influence and dollar bills. He hasn't been around for long, being the new chief executive and all, but he is making up for lost time. He's taken New York by storm and now has his sights on Tampa. I figured he was the new shark you were talking about, and if he is, my advice to you would be that it's best to get out of the water. Brendon Foxx will turn anyone against the Foxxes into chum, and seeing as how you're the new publishing hotspot, I would say your position is next.”

I folded my arms. I didn't like the sound of Charlie's empty threats. He always did over-exaggerate—prick that he was. He was a sensationalist masquerading as a reporter, and if I didn't need his scoop, I wouldn't bother to spend another minute in his sleazy presence.

The man was faker than the product he used in his over-gelled hair. And just as slimy. The best—and worst—part about him? He was usually right. His only saving grace was that he was a walking, talking TMZ ad. Ready to pounce on information at a moment’s notice.

I just had one more question for him.

“What does he look like? Foxx?”

The dickheaded reporter shrugged. “Like a good old LA boy. Only meaner. The last time I saw him was several years ago. He was blond, hippy like. Bastard wore board shorts to a company meeting. When his father finally saw him, he almost kicked the fucker out. Brendon never really did give two shits about his father's businesses. Guess he changed his mind. Maybe he finally recognized the piles of money—or maybe even pussy—he could fall into with being involved in his father’s companies.” He drained his glass. “Must be good being a fucking Foxx.”

“Almost as good as being a swinging dick in a male dominated world.” I raised my eyebrows.

Charlie swallowed. “Touché.”

I checked my watch, letting Charlie ramble for the next forty minutes. The second our hour was up, I excused myself soundly, making up an excuse about a missed meeting. Charlie accepted it. Reluctantly. In the back of my mind, I knew there was a chance that Charlie still wanted to fuck me— he had for years. But I also knew that he understood the possibility was slim. I insulted him far too much for him to ever get the wrong idea.

I made a beeline for the office, still thinking of Brendon Fox.

The man was constantly on my mind… and in my inbox.

Except I hadn't gotten anything from him in over a week. There was nothing but radio silence between us. He probably wanted me to make the first move—to get back to how it really was.

Quid pro quo. A note for note. He didn't send one unless I did. And this time, I simply couldn't send him anything. Not until I figured out the last thing he sent, his last words. Whether he was agreeing to my terms or not.

I couldn’t find his last letter.

The fire had eaten up the mail room, Laney’s office and a side of the breakfast nook in the break room. Everything was covered with soot or water or both. The gagging smell of smoke lingered in the rooms and hall, and worse than that, you could taste the air in the places the blaze had been, this arid flavor of earth, acridity and destruction.

I hated it all.

But at least the sprinkler systems were sound. They had snuffed the flames, stopped them before they could spread. The bad part was that another had already ignited inside of my shaken soul… and no water works could douse or dampen the intense fear that was creeping into my heart, the feeling that something else was at work with the incident—something sinister.

The fire department still hadn’t determined the cause of the blaze. A niggling notion in the back of my mind thought about the human error they had conjectured… and dismissed it. We were a lively crew, but a careful one. We had no faulty wiring, no open fires on the floor—I always made sure of that.

I couldn’t escape the idea… that maybe—more than maybe—this was no accident. And what that would mean if it wasn’t…

I sifted through the papers on my desk again just to be sure. A knock sounded from behind me.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah, uh, a piece of mail,” I responded, not turning towards Laney’s voice. “I swear I put it right here. In a single white envelope. I swear it was here before my pedicure appointment. I might be losing it…”

“I think you are.” I turned at that statement, looking at Laney dawdle in my office doorway. “Come on, Kat. This type of thing will fuck with anybody’s head. Our office just had a fire… and unless that envelope is a check for a million dollars from Ed McMahon, that kind of stuff can definitely wait. We need time to process, clean up. Time to regroup as a company… and kick some fucking ass.” She grinned shyly at me. “What are you doing here anyway, Kat? It’s past nine o’clock.”

“Well,” I took a deep breath, sighing.  “I must be a workaholic like my underpaid secretary.” I smiled back at my best friend. “What’s the first order of business, Ms. Brigham?”

She walked further inside my office, a small smile playing on her lips. She held her own piece of paper. “The first order of business is this…” She handed me the egg-shell colored invitation in her hands. It was for an event. I took it. But as I started to read, the reality of what I was being “invited to” became clearer and clearer. I tossed the vanilla-tinted letter on my desktop.

“No.”

“But you haven’t even looked at…”

“I said ‘no.’”

“You said you were going to go. You have to go. It’s the biggest publishing event of the year.”

“And we’ve just had the most devastating disaster of our little publishing lives. Laney…” I shook my hands in the air. “We just had a fire.”

“But did you die?” She gave me a serious stare before bursting into hysterics. She grabbed my shoulders, shaking them lightly. When she finally got me to look into her eyes, I saw that the stare in hers was soft. My closest friend looked as if she were searching for something there. I don't know if she found it or not, but she continued anyway.

She squeezed my fingers. “Don't you want to put up a united front? Show those fuckers the fire won't stop our show? That they can try to sabotage this place, slander it, burn it to the ground…”

“Oh fuck…” I hung my head.

“That we're going to keep kicking, keep going strong, keep doing what we love and do a damn good job at it?”

I locked Laney with a serious stare. “So, I’m not the only one that doesn't believe this is an accident?”

She shook her head slowly. “No… you're not the only one. But until we can prove it, we're just spinning our wheels. The fire department will come to the same conclusion that we’ve come to, soon. But what about the others? Our competitor publications? They might assume we've done it for attention. Or the insurance money if they think we're failing. I've seen companies do more for less. And they flopped anyway.”

My stare hardened. “We’re not flopping.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Her eyes filled with fire. “I know this is not some fly-by-night venture we have going on here. This business—our business? I believe in it. I believe in you. And whatever it takes, I am here with you until the end. Considering the fire, it might just be the ‘actual end.’”

Her eyes smiled, but beneath them was determination—hard as stone. I saw the way that Laney could see me, and in her green irises, I felt valued, respected, loved—invincible.

With one look she soothed my soul in a way that only the people closest to you can. Only your tribe. Your “kill a person and help you hide the body” people. Your family. That's what she been to me. What she was… for almost ten years.

I nodded my head. Because she was right. Was I going to run from the fire? Or fight it?

My shoulders slumped with my sigh. “Okay. I get it. I'll go.” She nodded.

And that was that. I was going to the Literature Today summit. I was going to put the fire behind me. And I was going to meet the man who I suspected started it… in less than one week.

Five days and counting…

Five days and counting.