Chapter 10: Kyle
“Mr. Beckham?”
My secretary called me, breaking in on my thoughts. I looked up, distracted. I had been drifting in my memories of Bethany. Those beautiful breasts with their pink nipples—I could look at them all day. I felt my groin ache.
“Yes?”
“Uh, sorry. It was the CEO. He called to say he would have to reschedule the meeting today?”
“Oh?” I frowned.
“Yeah. Could you do three thirty? He just found out he has to leave early.”
I nodded grimly. It had been meant to be at four thirty. “Fine.”
“Great! Thanks, Mr. Beckham.”
I gave a tight smile. “Sure. It’s nothing, really.”
Nothing? I swallowed hard, typing away furiously. I had to get this report done by three? I felt annoyed at myself. If I hadn’t been so distracted all day, it’d be finished already.
“You’re being stupid, Kyle,” I told myself harshly. If I’d thought about it, that was exactly what my dad would have said. It was weird how the things I said to myself were so often things he’d perpetually said to me. I shook my head at myself, amazed by my own disorganization.
You’re slipping up, getting behind. Pull your socks up.
I opened my desk drawer, searching through the stack of reports to find the latest one from the head of logistics. Dammit! Where did I put things?
I found the paper and read through it slowly. While I did so, the word “services” jumped out at me. I remembered Bethany’s comment about service, and grinned. She was so funny.
Thinking of that reminded me of the morning with her. It had been such an amazing way to spend a breakfast. With her there, my world felt so good. Nice and peaceful. Anchored. Her presence in my home made it a safe space. When she looked at me there was nothing but care in her eyes. No judgment, no scorn. No neediness or expectation. I felt good with her.
I felt like a worthwhile person. Worthwhile for myself. Not because of what I could give or do.
My phone rang. I blinked in surprise, then registered what it was. I grabbed the receiver, heart pounding. Somehow, there was a crazy thought in my head that it might just be Bethany. I could always hope. “Hello?”
“Kyle,” a smooth voice said. I sighed.
“Yes, Dad?”
“Just checking you’re on schedule for this business lunch today. I’ll not make it.”
“Oh?” I let out a long sigh. I was quite relieved. The thought of having to do an important piece of negotiation like that with my dad breathing down my neck was not encouraging.
“No. I have to make a Skype call with investors in Japan.”
“Great,” I said. I meant it. “I can handle it.”
“You can?”
I took offense. “Dad, I’m a twenty-nine-year-old man with experience in this company. I—”
“You were an irresponsible kid, and you have fairly basic education. I do trust you, son. But only so far,” he interrupted harshly; taking my breath away.
I felt like he’d hit me in the stomach, driving out all my air. I took a while to collect my thoughts. All the sweet thoughts that had been drifting through my mind the last while shattered, replaced with the ugly truth of who I was in his eyes. The runaway son who never got it right.
“Dad,” I said tightly. “You made sure I know what I’m doing. I won’t screw this up.”
“Good,” he said, suddenly affable again. “Well, I’ll be waiting to hear how it goes. Bye, son.”
When he had finished, the call mainly to give me a list of pointers to remember for the meeting, goals we were meant to achieve, I hung up. I sat there in shock. His words rang through my head.
An irresponsible kid. A basic education. I can trust you, but just so far.
It hurt.
I closed my eyes tight, feeling a physical pain in my chest. In my mind, the picture of myself that had grown this morning—the capable, nice guy that Bethany seemed to think I was, the guy who seemed acceptable—shattered wholesale. I was left with a few broken pieces.
Yeah, that’s me, I thought harshly. Dumb guy. Cringeworthy past. Have to do better.
I sighed and reached for my laptop, checking over the presentation for this afternoon. I would be sure to do that properly, at least.
I thought of Bethany again—that sweet smile. I blocked the image out harshly. No, Kyle, I told myself. Don’t go there. You don’t deserve to. Besides—what makes you think that wasn’t a one-off? Forget it.
I breathed out and focused on the present task. I just needed to add figures into one slide. I rummaged through my papers and found the document I needed.
“Mr. Beckham?”
“Yes? What?” I snapped. My secretary blinked, a look of bland surprise on her well-groomed face. “Sorry,” I added with a sigh.
“I was just coming in to check if you’re on schedule for the lunch? The group from Transcor is coming at one.”
I bit my lip to hold back the groan of despair. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m coming.”
I looked at my watch. It was twelve A.M. I could still do it.
When my secretary had gone, I put my head in my hands, trying not to sob. I was an idiot.
On a day like this, I just had to spend time on selfish stuff, didn’t I? What would Dad think?
I shuddered, imagining what he would say to me. Skirt is all very well in its place, he’d say. But women are fickle. Get an appropriate girl, because they’re all there for the money anyway.
I swallowed hard. Bethany was appropriate, for sure. But was she in it for the money?
Well, probably.
As I glanced at the clock, I caught sight of myself. Gaunt cheeks, eyes ringed with gray from lack of sleep. I guess I was handsome in a haunted way. Sophisticated? No way. Alpha male? Well, I had the status, but I didn’t feel like the rest of me matched up to the stereotype. I was awkward.
Let’s face it, she wants cash. I told myself pragmatically as I tried to skim the report from the logistics sector, picking out points for my own report for this afternoon.
Why else would a clever, high-functioning girl be interested in me?
I finished the report by one pm. Then I ran down to the elevator for the lunch. I met a group of elegantly dressed men in the foyer.
“Mr. Chan? Mr. Knoll? Great to meet you,” I said, shaking hands. “Kyle Beckham.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“A pleasure. You ready for lunch?”
I nodded. I was starving. Probably, I thought wryly as we climbed into a taxi, because of all the action. I remembered what Bethany had said about the use of energy. I grinned.
“You have some figures to show us?” Mr. Chan asked, breaking in on my thoughts.
“Figures? Mm,” I nodded, patting my briefcase. “I have the annual reports here. Would you like to talk now? Or at lunch?”
“Let’s have lunch,” Mr. Knoll, a tall man with twinkly eyes, said with relish. “I’m starving.”
We all laughed.
I found it hard to concentrate during the lunch—I kept on thinking of Bethany. It was frustrating. Every time we mentioned something innocent—figures, assets, benefits—I found my mind jumping to the naughtiest possible interpretation. And when someone mentioned service, I actually had to look down so I didn’t laugh.
“Well,” Mr. Chan said as he pushed away his plate, a contented expression on his face, “we have learned a lot. If you have a copy of that, so we can take it back to the office?”
“Sure,” I said, relieved that I’d brought a copy of the annual reports with me. I handed it over. They gave me theirs.
We were planning a partnership with their freight company—thinking in the future to maybe merge the two, if our company—FastLane, that was—could cover a buyout. It wasn’t strictly speaking my job to manage this part of the process, but Dad sometimes delegated things to me. I was only too happy that he put the trust in me to do it.
“Well, then,” Mr. Knoll said, stretching his legs. “That was very interesting. Since we’re here for the day, I was wondering if you know any good spots for dinner?”
“Sure,” I nodded. “I can recommend a lot of places. What are you looking for?”
“Something simple. Good, basic food—but nicely done.”
“Waddingtons?” I suggested, remembering the good meal I’d had there with Bethany. “They’re a kind of modern trad British-style place. You can book on that app…” I trailed off, my mind blank. In the place of my thoughts I could see Bethany, smiling as she ate. That pink tongue sliding over the back of the fork. I closed my eyes, trying to distract my poor mind.
“The Fork?” he asked.
“Yeah!” I snapped my fingers. “That’s the thing. You can book with that app.”
The two men raised their brows. “Sure,” Mr. Chan said. “Sounds great.”
“Great,” I nodded.
“If you’re free, you could join us?” Mr. Knoll suggested politely.
I shrugged. In my mind, I wished I could ask Bethany out again. But it seemed like a bad plan. I was already too attached to her. It was better to break it off now. Before I got worse. “Sure,” I nodded.
“Great.”
We finished our lunch and shook hands. Then we headed back to the office. It was two thirty and that left me with an hour to get the final preparations done for the big meeting later.
I managed to do them quite successfully. I went off to the boardroom feeling confident. As I did so, it occurred to me that it was meeting Bethany that had made me more confident. I let myself smile, remembering her sweet face, before I carefully erased it from my mind. That was not for me.
The meeting went off well. I left quietly satisfied with myself. I worked until five thirty and then drove home. I reached my block of flats and decided I couldn’t go in.
The whole place is going to make me think of her. And I want to forget her. It was a one-off. It’s back to reality now. I drove past and found myself heading to the gym. As I drove there, my mind chased itself around in crazy circles.
Your mom left because of you. She couldn’t put up with the conflict. You were the son your father never wanted. He always said he didn’t want kids and that was why he and Mom split.
Somehow, the sweet, smiling face of Bethany and the haunted, ravaged one of Mom blurred together. I got out, changed and hit the treadmill, trying to run out the frustration and the hurt.
“Kyle!” the voice of my trainer broke my focus. The images broke, replaced with his frown.
I stopped running and leaned forward, exhausted.
“Hell, man,” Glenn, my trainer, frowned. “What’re you doing? You know you’re supposed to be taking it easy on those hamstrings.”
I shook my head wearily. “Sorry, Glenn,” I sighed. “Just got distracted.”
I had already run five miles. He shook his head. “Take it easy, huh,” he said with a concerned frown. “Something worrying you at work or something?”
I shook my head. “No, Glenn, it’s nothing. Truly. Just me and my stupid mind.”
Glenn frowned but said nothing. He knew me better than anyone. And knew that, when I was locked in this place of self-loathing, it was better just to walk away.
I worked out until seven and then went home. At least, when I got into the apartment, I was too tired and hungry and distracted to think about Bethany or remember the time we’d spent together. I showered, made dinner and then collapsed wearily onto the couch.
I checked my phone hopefully, but she hadn’t sent a message. Well, nor had I. I was a real ass. I could at least have checked she was home safe.
No, Kyle. I shook my head and made myself return the phone to its place carefully. Our worlds didn’t fit together and she was going back to Miami soon. Better by far just to let her go. And let myself forget.