HIM
I watch the clock as it ticks over to 5:30 a.m. and reach for the alarm button just as it is starting to sound. I wonder why I even bothered to set it. I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep all night, third night in a row. ‘Ever since you saved that woma-‘
“Shut up,” I cut off my inner voice. I know exactly when my insomnia started.
I throw off my duvet and climb out of bed, carrying my water bottle into the adjoining gym room. Pulling on a pair of boxers and tracksuit pants, I click the TV onto CNN and climb on the treadmill. Setting it on the hardest program, I start the 45-minute steepest uphill run. If I don’t sleep tonight, it won’t be because I’m not tired.
Usually, I zone the news out, and focus on my breath. Even now, just turned 33, I can feel my body change with the intensity of my workouts. The breathing from my yoga helps my endurance, and I welcome the clarity that it gives me at the beginning of each work day. At least the day can start out that way. The end is always another story.
But today, all I can think about is her. That woman. Jade.
I haven’t gone into her room since she woke up yesterday morning. She should have her time and space to heal, I tell myself, even while I sit staring out my office window all afternoon, wondering if she is okay.
Fuck! This is ridiculous. Why can’t I stop thinking about a woman I’ve never even spoken to? Who doesn’t even know I exist except that I have saved her from two thugs.
Get it together, man, I tell myself again. But something tells me it won’t be the last time I will have to remind myself.
***
“To Lenox Hill, Henry, before we go to the office, please,” I tell the driver, as I settle into my seat. “I won’t be long, just going in to grab some paperwork.”
“Of course, sir.”
I’ve decided to stop by and get the hospital invoice for Jade’s treatment. It’s on the way to the office, anyway, I tell myself. Saves me from going at some other time.
The hospital is in chaos when I get there; the accounting department office is unsupervised, with no clue when someone will return. I take the elevator to Jade’s floor, pulling my hoodie around me, just in case she is up and about. I don’t want to see her, and I definitely don’t want her to see me.
“Excuse me, do you know if someone has left an envelope here for me? It should have Ms. Sinclair’s invoice in it. It might be addressed to ‘K,’” I ask the nurse at the station. She stares at me for a moment and just shrugs. I sigh and try again, “Please, I’m in a hurry, do you know someone who might know?”
“Sugar!”
Oh, thank God. Someone with sense. I turn around to see Ruby, standing there with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.
“Ruby. Do you know where Jade’s invoice paperwork is? I’m on my way to work and just came in to grab it... quickly.”
She just shakes her head at me.
“You don’t know?” I ask, getting frustrated.
“No, I know. I just don’t know YOU, boy. You sit a vigil by her bed waitin’ for her to wake up, and the minute she does, you disappear!”
“Ruby, the paperwork.” I want to get out of there before Ruby makes a scene and calls attention to me.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, Mystery Man.” She waves her hand at me dismissively and leans over the nurse’s station and grabs a large yellow envelope. “Here,” she shoves it into my hand. “Dunno why you’re in such a hurry anyway, she’s gone.”
I look at her, surprised, “Gone? Gone where?” I ask, my voice louder than I expect.
“Gone home! Doc gave the okay and she left about an hour ago. She couldn’t just wait around for you, Sugar!” Ruby grins.
“Who’d she go with?”
“Her friend, Harriet. She’s staying with her for a few days, as far as I could tell. Gotta go, angel,” she winks at me and turns into a nearby bed bay.
I stand there clutching the envelope for a second before someone rams my leg with a hospital bed.
“Beep beep, sir!” the orderly calls out.
“Uh, oh sorry,” I step to the side, letting him pass.
She’s gone. And I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye. It’s better this way, I know it.
But I just can’t shake that brown eyed porcelain doll that laid so still in my arms.
***
“Morning, Jemima,” I nod to my secretary as I get off my personal elevator and step into my office. It expands the entire top floor and is floor to ceiling glass; the only wall, also glass, is erected between my actual office and the reception area and Jemima’s desk. On a clear blue day like today, with nothing to obstruct the eyes, I sometimes feel like I am freely flying over the stunning Manhattan skyline.
Aside from my personal desk, which I rarely sit at, there’s a large table in the middle of my office, filled with patent models and sketches, and whiteboards on wheels with stand haphazardly around the massive open space. Small spaces make people think small. I believe in freedom for the brain to play and expand. It seems luxurious, taking a whole floor for myself and my brain and my pacing, but it has led to some of the most iconic products my company has ever created.
I throw my leather briefcase onto my empty chair and stand looking out at the skyline, taking a deep breath as I prepare for the day. I’ve taken too much time out, my thoughts completely unfocused the last few days, but with Jade leaving the hospital and all ties being lost, I’m ready to move on.
“Jemima,” I call through the door, ignoring the unnecessary intercom.
I wait the few seconds it takes for her to push the door open to my office, a small stack of notes in her hand, “Yes, Mr. Ashley?”
“Call Xavier, please, and tell him I need to talk to him as soon as he has a minute. Tell him I need to see him in person, not over the phone. But before you do, I’m ready for my morning messages now.”
She rattles them off, counting on her fingers to make sure she hasn’t missed any. Jemima is diligent and professional, and I pay her twice what she’d get elsewhere just to make sure she has no thoughts of leaving. The arrangement we have is unique, considering who she is and the favor I’m doing her family, but in the two years she’s been with me, she’s proven to be indispensable.
“Oh, and, there’s a parcel on your station. It’s gone through the scanner, so it’s okay,” she adds.
“Thank you, Jemima.” I say, taking the list of phone messages from her.
“Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you. Just please get onto Xavier. ASAP,” I remind her.
“Of course, Mr. Ashley,” she says before she turns on her heel and the door closes behind her. I can hear her already talking to my lawyer on her headset before she’s reached her desk.
I walked over to my massive work station to the small parcel that sits on the corner. It’s a plain white cube box, tied in a bright red bow. Handwritten on the top is just my name, “Kaine Ashley,” with no return address or sender’s name.
I hold it in my hands for a moment, turning it over, examining every inch. It isn’t my birthday or Christmas, not that anyone knows my birthdate anyway, and I am not in the habit of giving or receiving Christmas gifts.
I bring it to my ear and shake it, drawing out my own suspense, trying to solve the mystery. Not knowing something is a sensation that isn’t common to me these days, and I’m glad for something to take my mind off the events of the last few days.
Finally, curiosity gets the better of me and I carefully untie the ribbon, open the box and look inside.
My blood instantly runs cold.
Ice cold.
Freezing in my veins.
I pick up the small round contraption in my hands and stare at it.
Uncanny.
Peering inside the box, I pull out the note inside.
“What a beautiful product. You’ve really outdone yourself this time. But maybe you’ve been a little too greedy. It’s time to share, don’t you think? Can’t keep everything to yourself. Think about it anyway. We’ll talk soon,” the note reads. A single italicized “J” ends the letter.
How? How did he get this? I wonder.
How did he get his hands on the FireFree by Ash Industries?
My brand-new, ground breaking, industry changing, fire safety changing baby about to be launched in a month’s time. How did he get his hands on the specifications to make it? I know it isn’t one of ours, on the bottom, there isn’t the Ash Industries brand that is on all of our prototypes. Prototypes that no one out of the specialised project team in this company has seen or touched. He has to have the product blueprints to be able to produce what looks like an exact copy...and who knows what else.
Someone, someone had to have given them to him. Someone I am going to find.
“Jemima!” I growl.
She recognizes the tone and comes running.
“VPs. Now!”