Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Hey, Amy, I’m pulling up now.”
“Ariel,” my boss’s voice booms. She doesn’t usually call, normally it’s only our front of office.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Where are you, exactly?”
“I just parked.”
“Okay. I need you to go, right now, I will email you the exact location…” she pauses, “… and Ariel, I’m truly sorry.” She hangs up, and I sit to wait for the email to come through.
Her words sit uncomfortably with me… why is she sorry? Is she firing me? Shit! My line of work is hard to find employment in. This job alone took me over a year to secure, and while I was trying to land my almost-dream job, which this isn’t exactly but it’s close, I was a bartender back home waiting for that call which would bring me into the city and working like a grown-up.
* * *
Ariel,
* * *
Tom Spec has died. Witnesses from the scene say he crashed into a barrier and the impact was so severe he died on impact.
* * *
Monica,
CEO
* * *
Oh my God, I didn’t expect that. Not that. I only saw him a day ago. How could this be? Tom died. Fuck! I pull up the address from my cell and go straight to the scene—it’s blocked off and people are everywhere. Thankfully the body is gone and now it’s only the police and newspaper reporters hovering around making sure they get that perfect photo of the car. I push my way through and see someone familiar standing there. It’s one of his bodyguards. I tap his shoulder and offer him a smile. He sees me and basically runs the other way.
Well, that was weird.
I pull out my camera and snap a few photos as well before I look around. There are no other people here from Tom’s staff, just that one bodyguard who I only recognized because he’s Tom’s main security.
Walking to my car, I sit and want to cry. I never really liked the man, but he didn’t deserve to die. No one deserves to die.
A message beeps and Falcon’s name appears. Somehow my lips manage to lift just a fraction before they fall.
* * *
Falcon: I’m sorry, Raven.
* * *
I press call, and he answers on the first ring.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I need you.” And I do. I want body contact despite trying to stay away, which I had planned. I want his contact, and I know he will give it to me. Stupid, I know. But we all do stupid things in life and maybe Falcon will be my biggest regret.
When Falcon enters my office, I stand and he wraps his arms around my body the first chance he gets. I fall into them as he pulls me tight, so all I can feel is him as he lifts me up.
“It gets easier, if that helps. Each time you lose someone it gets easier to numb the pain.” I look up to him and he pulls my hair back and strokes it. Falcon lost both his grandparents when we were growing up. I remember then how that changed him, he was close to them. Beyond close, he even used to call them Mum and Dad, by accident and sometimes on purpose. I lay my head on his shoulder and hold him with everything I have. They died one year apart, and I knew then it broke something inside him, but I was young and in love and I thought he would get over it. I don’t even bother asking him how he knew—Tom was famous, the whole world knows.
“I didn’t even like him, but I feel guilty.”
He shuts my office door and sits with me on my couch. The need to strip his clothes off right now is overwhelming. My need for him is almost suffocating me. Pulling back so I can stare at him, he doesn’t offer me a smile or tell me it’s all going to be okay, because I obviously know it’s not. But I still feel bad. Bad that I thought of Tom as an asshole, and even worse, that I didn’t get to say goodbye.
Death is never easy. Some know how to work through the pain, some hide from it, and some suffocate in it.
“You didn’t have to like him to feel sorry or sad about his death. You knew him. You’re sad he’s gone. It’s natural.” I lean in and kiss his words so I can take the strength they give. Being with him helps. He helps. Falcon was our warrior growing up—Tracey’s big fearless older brother. Now, I have my hands on his face, tasting his lips. If you would have told me years ago I would be doing this, I would have told you you’re mistaken. If you’d have told me this when I was a teenager, I would have clapped for joy. Now, I don’t know what to do. I tell him to leave me alone and he turns up everywhere. I try to escape him but I crave him. I’m not sure who’s winning in this situation, but I know for sure who won’t.