11
“Yes, thank you! I just have to visit the restroom for a moment, thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Nina struggled out of the arms of her coworker and squeezed past the crowds of people sipping champagne.
“Nina! Nina!” two half drunken interns cheered as she pushed past.
“Ha,” she laughed, flashing a smile. “Thank you, boys.”
“Hey, Nina!” Felicia from the statistics department was suddenly in front of Nina, waving a glass of vodka punch enthusiastically, emphasizing her words with sloshed pink alcohol. “It is so great that you got home safe and sound, lady.”
Nina forced a smile onto her face yet again.
“Yep,” she said, trying to squeeze past Felicia’s ample chest. “If you’ll just excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom…”
“Like it is so amazing,” Felicia continued, waving her glass of punch in the air, the contents of the glass sloshing dangerously back and forth. “That that lumberjack didn’t totally kill you, right?”
Nina froze. Her cheeks suddenly began to burn and heat shot through her body. She fixed Felicia from statistics with a hard look.
“Of course he didn’t totally kill me,” she snarled, and her green eyes burned with rage. “And he also is a lot more than just some lumberjack.”
Felicia’s honey brown eyes widened in amusement.
“Well woah there,” she slurred, the pink liquid still slapping against the edges of the glass. “Did Nina fall for the very man who abducted her?”
Nina bit down on her bottom lip, fighting hard not to obey her instincts and slap Felicia across her face.
“No one abducted me,” Nina began, but then, deciding she did not care about Felicia enough to explain the story in detail, she changed course. “I am back home now after a brief adventure, and I could not be happier,” she grinned, then peeled herself away from the crowd of her coworkers before Felicia could so much as think to utter another word.
Nina slammed the door of the private bathroom and locked it behind her. Then she walked to the mirror and leaned forward, resting her hands upon the sink, her face inches from the glass. She stared hard into her own green eyes and then, speaking out loud, begged of her reflection:
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
She stared hard at her reflection, searching for answers, searching for herself in the mirror. For try as she might, no matter how hard she stared, no matter for how long she forced herself not to blink, the image displayed upon the shining glass did not change. Nina did not, could not, see the woman who had so loved this job, who had so wanted nothing more than to one day become the CEO of this corporation. She stared at the mirror until her eyes hurt, until watery tears slinked down her face, and yet she still could not for the life of her see the woman who had dreamed of these things.
She now saw someone else entirely different, a naked face, devoid of corporate desire; a woman who was made up of fire, burning so brightly that it colored her hair a viciously passionate dancing red. She closed her eyes, attempting to regain some semblance of focus, and Rowan’s face, the perfectly carved shape of his legs, pulsing with muscle. His abs, so chiseled the image sent shivers shimmying down Nina’s spine, made her instinctively grab at her breasts, her nipples hardening beneath her blouse; his night-dark eyes, fuck, those eyes, the pure black orbs that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe within their spheres. All of it sent goosebumps dancing across her flesh, made her pussy drip with longing. Nina forced her eyes open and staggered out of the bathroom before she had a chance to again catch her reflection in the dreaded mirror.
Stuck in her tangled, confusing thoughts, she found herself wandering down the back hallways of the office complex. She passed by the meeting rooms, her fingers grazing the wall, her fingertips absentmindedly playing over the gentle sloping of the walls. She followed the hallway to the back lounge, the place where the CEO interviewed potential hires, and she flopped down into one of the comfortably padded armchairs. She tilted her head back and stared at the array of portraits of past employees that hung upon the walls.
Nina allowed her green eyes, now slightly reddened with the rush of the party punch, to wonder over the many faces mounted up upon the wall. The wall was a bit of a legend at the workplace, only employees recognized for exceptionally prestigious accomplishments or strange office happenstances were allowed the honor of having their faces immortalized on the would be wall of workplace wonder. Nina felt a faint smile tugging at the corners of her plump, red painted lips as she read the small inscription that was tacked to the wall beneath the photo of an over zealous looking young man.
“Zach Koroflis: intern who lasted an impressive two hours without being fired. Fired for spilling boiling coffee down the front of CEO Ilsa Copperfeld’s blouse.”
Nina chuckled to herself, imagining the aging Ilsa younger and more spry. She would have unleashed a stream of profanities at the young man and fired him on the spot, Nina was certainly sure of that. She grinned to herself and continued to allow her eyes to peruse the wall hangings, reading up on the brief moments of fame of these strangers who had all once sat in the chair that she now rested in. There was Katie Rinzfeld, who had succeeded in becoming a junior partner after just six months on the job. Daniel Gearing had sold a record-breaking forty-seven shares to high profile clients, all within the span of three and a half hours. She shook her head at that feat, not even she, Nina, the woman who was being considered for future CEO, could have managed to accomplish that, and there was not much that her fiery fortitude could not succeed in accomplishing. She nodded her approval at the man in the photo.
“Good work, Dan,” she said aloud. “Talk about getting it done.”
The sound of her own voice, unaffected and light with playfulness, was so in contrast to the refined, higher pitched tone she had been employing all night long with her coworkers and inferiors that the sound of it echoing within the empty room sent shivers spiraling up her arms and down her spine. Nina found her freshly manicured nails digging into the soft leather of the chair, her spine straightening with anxiety. She willed herself to feel calm, to ignore the feelings of disgust that boiled in the pit of her stomach, but she could not. Coming back to the office had made her feel sick. Because for the first time in her life, Nina had not felt sure of herself. She had expected to return to her workplace and be enveloped by employees falling over themselves in order to bathe her in welcomes and praise, and they had, but the words had not felt the way Nina had expected them to feel.
Nina had relied upon other people’s praise to lift her up for her entire life. Her entire existence had been a rally of receiving affection, and there was a lot of affection tossed her way, as Nina was and always had been a truly remarkable beauty. She had moved up quickly in life, jumping over hurdles that would have stifled the ambition of those less attractive than she, and the result had been that, after just two years working as an intern at one of the largest, most proficient corporations in the United States, Nina had been asked if she might like to take over as CEO. The offer had floored her, but not surprised her. For she was as smart and talented as she was incredibly beautiful, and she had put in every inch of effort in order to ensure that she would always be the most successful person in the room.
Yet now, for the first time in the entirety of Nina’s experience on earth, she felt completely lost and unsure of herself. She no longer felt that she belonged here, in this office, or even within this corporation, everything about it, from the cubicles to the client accounts to the drunken, put upon praise of her coworkers. Coworkers that she suddenly realized she did not even know, and moreover, really did not like as people. Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she flopped her green-eyed gaze down upon the vibrating device. She slid a tired hand around its girth and an image of Rowan, naked, his charcoal eyes begging her, daring her, to reach out and grab his throbbing cock as she had the phone flashed across her mind. She shook her head angrily, ridding her mind of its wandering, and slapped the phone against her ear.
“Yes?”
Jess’ voice flooded through from the other end.
“Girl. Where did you go? Everyone is asking me where you are and it is really like, getting like embarrassing.” The background sounds of the office party danced behind Jess’ lilting voice.
Nina breathed out and closed her eyes. She drummed her fingers upon the phone.
“Yea, Jess, I just needed a minute,” she said shortly. She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, preparing herself for what she knew was coming next.
“Okayyyyyy,” Jess began, dragging the word out. Nina heard her slurping at a drink. “Okay. And like, Nina, it’s like okay I get that, I get that, but like also, people keep like, ramming me with questions, and like, what the hell am I even supposed to say because like, I don’t know. I don’t know where the fuck you are. I’m like… okay. I get that you are dealing with stuff here okay, and I totally am not like, undermining that, okay, but like also like… I am dealing with stuff too? Because like, people totally fucking blame me? So like, there’s that and like I do not get to just, you know, go away because ‘I just needed a minute’ so… maybe like… do you even get what I’m saying here?” The threat of sobs began to edge into Jess’ voice, and Nina rolled her eyes. “Like do you even know how it even feels to like not have you come back and then no one cares about me like they all care about you and like how am I not a victim here like ohgmigod…”
Nina stared at the different photos of past coworkers as she listened to the sounds of staggered sobbing that leaped through the phone line. Finally, she spoke up.
“Jess. You’re about ten feet away. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Wowwww,” Jess drawled, her sobs instantly resolving into complete composure tinged with vehement sharpness in her voice. “I see how it is. You don’t fucking care at all about like any one person but yourself Nina. Wow. Like you probably like don’t even care that everyone fucking cares and…”
Nina toned out the next bit of Jess’ sprawling selfishness and let her eyes jump from photo to photo. All of a sudden she froze. Goosebumps shot up all over every inch of her flesh. Her plump lips dropped open, and she nearly dropped the phone.
“Jess,” she said, her voice cold and urgent. “I have to go.”
She slammed her freshly done nails against the phone and dropped it to the carpeted floor as she stood, her heels sinking into the plush carpeting. She reached out shaking fingers towards the image that hung before her.
The photo displayed the image of a man’s face. His eyes looked flat and distracted; his dark hair hung around his face, too long to be considered professional looking. Beneath the image hung the requisite descriptive plaque.
“Rowan Davis,” the plaque read. “Disappeared after being offered position of CEO. Never located by police. Remembered fondly by CEO Ilsa Copperfeld (1999-____). Rest in peace.”
Nina’s fingers hovered over the photo, and then her hand slapped across the familiar face held captive within the frame. She trembled slightly, teetering back and forth upon her six-inch heels, not able to believe what she saw so plainly before her. After several long moments spent reading the plaque description over and over and over again, she let her fingers drop, turned on her heel, and marched out of the room.
She reentered the party, and the sound of voices vying to be heard over each other made her feel sick; the snippets of conversation that snatched at her ears as she pressed past her tipsy coworkers were filled with boasting, attempts at proving themselves more impressive than the people with which they were speaking.
“Nina!”
Pale nails dug into Nina’s arm, stopping her determined march through the crowded office. She glanced towards the owner of the hands and found herself face to face with Anna.
“I didn’t even get to see you yet, holy shit!” Anna yelped. Her cheeks were flushed with the rush of vodka, and she swayed slightly back and forth as she spoke to Nina. Her fingers clutched Nina’s arm fondly, and her smile seemed like it was too big for her face. “I am so relieved and happy to see you, you babe!”
Nina let herself be wrapped up in her friend’s arms but pulled away as quickly as she could. Anna noticed the determination that possessed Nina’s face, made her eyes green daggers. She let her friend free from her grip and asked quickly. “What it is it.”
“I can not do this,” was all Nina said.
And then she slipped away into the crowd, eaten up by the adoring yelps of employees inferior to her, employees hoping to please Nina and work their way up the corporate ladder, however slightly. Nina pushed past them without so much as a forced smile and finally found herself at the elevator. She punched at the down button and glanced behind her shoulder to find several men, interns freshly converted to employee status, rushing her way. Without thinking she slammed her hips against the door that stood next to the elevator and smashed her heels down the stairs. She ran down the seventeen flights, not even noticing the difficulties of sprinting down the stairs in six-inch heels. She had to get out, and to him, and that was all that mattered.
Finally, Nina found herself at the bottom of the staircase. She pushed the door open and jogged out, inches away from pushing open the double glass doors and gulping down a mouthful of fresh night air. She placed her hands upon the door, stared down the world that hung just outside the glass structure, and took a breath.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The voice stilled her and chilled her to the bone. Nina froze, her hands glued to the translucent, shimmering glass. She turned slowly, knowing who the voice belonged to before she saw the face that had spoken the words.
“Ilsa,” Nina said, her green eyes falling upon the woman who stood behind her. Ilsa wore a dark blue pantsuit cinched at the waist with a thin, maroon belt. Her silver hair was slicked back smartly and tucked behind her ears. She looked at Nina inquisitively, a graceful eyebrow arched up her forehead.
“Nina,” Ilsa returned, her perfectly done lips dancing with the announcement of Nina’s name.
Nina turned, completely facing her employer straight on. She looked her straight in the eyes, forest on ice, and she spoke.
“I do not wish to become CEO.”
Nina watched Ilsa stare at her for a moment, then nod her head slowly up and down, a small smile creeping across her lips. Nina felt slightly confused by the current CEO’s reaction so she continued before the woman could say anything.
“I am leaving, and before I go, I have one final request.”
The words hung in the air, heavy, shivering with weight. Ilsa opened her lips slowly.
“And what would that request be, dear Nina?” Ilsa asked, slipping her hands together at the waist.
Nina looked at Ilsa hard.
“Tell me what happened to Rowan Davis.”
Ilsa’s smiled fell from her face. Her put-upon look of amusement crumpled and fell, and to Nina’s amazement, she watched the CEO slide down the wall to the floor. She sat on the plush carpeting in her figure hugging pantsuit, her head in her hands, and stared up at Nina’s young, freckled face.
“Rowan Davis,” Ilsa repeated the name. “Rowan Davis.” The older woman shook her head slowly side to side. Then she smiled, and it was genuine this time. “Rowan fucking Davis,” she whispered, and she burst out laughing. “Oh, god.” She shook her head several times more, then spoke. “Why do you ask about him?”
Nina swallowed. She forced herself to look the woman in the eyes.
“Because,” she began, pleading with her voice, begging it not to waver. “Because I am going now, and I am going to be with him.”
Nina watched Ilsa freeze, watched her eyes light upon Nina in a way that Nina would never be able to completely describe. Was it envy, or disgust, or sadness that suddenly took over the older woman’s face and made her look like an entirely different person altogether? Nina would never know. But the words that Ilsa spoke in that quiet, heavy moment were words that Nina would never forget.
“He’s alive,” the CEO said. “I knew he was alive.” She stared down at her perfectly painted fingernails for a moment. Then she looked up, stared deeply, intensely, into Nina’s eyes. “I knew he would do it. I knew he would get away and live. Go.” The CEO looked at Nina with something like electricity in her gaze, her icy eyes shocked Nina into action, made Nina’s insides feel as if they had been slapped with energy. “Go. Tell him I send my best. Get away and don’t just survive and thrive here, live and thrive. Please, Nina. Please: live.”
Nina stared at the CEO, crumpled upon the floor in her one million dollar pantsuit, for one second more. Then she turned, pushed open the glass door, and let the night air pull her into a delicious embrace. As the door began to swing closed she turned back, her red hair leaping in the air.
“Thank you!” she screamed, feeling as alive as a little kid. She watched Ilsa stand and hold up a hand in a weak but loving wave. Then Nina turned and sprinted towards the highway, punching in the numbers on her phone for the cab.