Iris stood alone in the vast, luxurious office and waited with knees locked in place for Mr. Cavendish to return with a first aid kit. She could only stand for a few minutes before fatigue set in and she searched for an appropriate place to sit down and catch her breath. Of the choices available, she had the option to take his fabulously expensive executive task chair, the somehow more opulent Italian leather sectional, or one of the less comfortable club chairs for guests. Not wanting to occupy valuable real estate, Iris parked her weary carcass in one of the guest chairs and struggled to keep her eyes open.
One of the few benefits of crying so hard in the stairwell was that the ever-present sting of tears reminded Iris that she was still awake. Her entire morning had been a waking nightmare, and she couldn’t be sure of what was real, and what was fantasy. She slumped into the guest chair, gently closed her reddened eyes, and tried to remember what went wrong in the first place.
She’d found herself huddled on a heap of linens with Byxx around ten this morning, weak and tired from last night’s adventures. Khazmine had kept her company in Mr. Cavendish’s car, they commuted to the apartment, and then her memory faded out.
I can’t seem to remember. Iris shook her head faintly. What happened last night, and what’s going on with the boys?
The boys in question were Byxx and Zayzann. Both had a frosty demeanor towards each other once she’d woken up, and Iris couldn’t figure out why. She tried to get a hint from Byxx first, but he played it off as a “guy thing” and changed topics while preparing eggs over easy for the two of them. Smelling the alluring aroma of fresh eggs, Zayzann swaggered in from the balcony, much to Iris’s surprise.
“Enjoying the breeze this morning?” Iris asked innocently. She could think of no other reason to linger on the balcony so late after sunrise. There wasn’t much of a view from her apartment’s vantage point, and the soft, fresh air was invigorating, so she figured it was that. “I was hoping we could all enjoy a nice visit to the—”
Zayzann brushed past Iris and Byxx at the kitchen table, and stalked over to the stove to see if there were any eggs left. Unfortunately, Iris didn’t know he was home, and Byxx was in no mood to prepare extra food for the annoying Paxoram. “You didn’t save any for me?”
Iris shot a distressed glance at Byxx with wide, searching eyes. “N-no. These are yours, right here.” Iris lied feebly as she pushed her untouched plate towards Zayzann. It slid with a grating sound of ceramic on laminate, which chafed Zayzann’s nerves. “I was just keeping Byxx company while you were—”
“There’s no need to lie on my account.” Zayzann scoffed, still annoyed that she had hit him in her sleep last night. “I’m not so pathetic that I need you to feed me, too.”
Things were beginning to get out of hand. Iris could sense the discord between them, but was unsure of how to help, which sent her into a panic spiral. What did I do? Why can’t I remember?
Before Iris could figure out what was happening, her cellphone rang with an urgent call from Mr. Maker. She tried to explain to him that she was given medical leave but was shut down immediately. Byxx and Zayzann strained to hear the other side of the conversation, as they both recognized the increasing distress of their roommate. Whatever he’d said had stunned her into silence, and they could hear the last of Warren’s threats as clear as day.
“If your pale, bony a** isn’t here in thirty minutes, you don’t need to show up here on Monday. I’ll see to it you never work in tech again.”
The line went dead as Iris clutched her phone to her increasingly pale face. Her eyes darted back and forth as she ran scenarios through her head on how to make the impossible possible. The boys looked on in confusion as Iris snapped into action. She darted into the laundry area, donned a work sweater and slacks, then scampered into the entryway for her shoes, wallet, keys, and faux leather bag.
“W-wait! Where are you going?” Zayzann stammered.
“Work. I-I’m sorry I can’t stay today after all.” Iris spent her last precious seconds of freedom on her parting words. “Zay, I’m terribly sorry for whatever I did. Please believe me that it wasn’t on purpose…”
“Wait, wh—” Zayzann interrupted.
“Be good, you two.” Iris forced a tight-lipped smile as the door closed behind her.
Both roommates could hear Iris sprint as fast as her body could carry her to the bus station. With any luck, she could make the mid-morning bus and arrive on time. Byxx and Zayzann were still standing together in the entryway, not understanding what had happened, and the freshly cooked eggs on Iris’s beautifully handmade ceramic plates were growing cold.
Iris snapped back to reality with a start and realized that she had briefly dozed off in Mr. Cavendish’s guest chair. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes since he’d left, but Iris found herself missing his company. Despite being tastefully appointed and stylish, Iris found the office to be empty and unfriendly when she was alone in it. Seeking comfort and solace, Iris pulled out her cellphone and sent a brief message.
“Hey Ray. Having a tough day. Do you have a minute?”
Iris saw the bouncing icon on Ray’s contact photo that indicated she was typing a message. She waited with a shaking leg and rapt attention for Ramona’s response.
“Hey baby girl. I’m swamped at the salon right now. Mind if we catch up this weekend?”
It wasn’t the answer Iris had anticipated, but at least Ramona gave her an option to look forward to.
“I understand. Sorry to bug you when you’re busy. I have some big news for you, but it can wait until Saturday.”
Ramona immediately responded, filling Iris with more hope.
“No worries. I got some good news for you, too, so hang in there, okay? Love you, baby girl!”
Good ol’ Ray. She always knows how to cheer me up when things go sideways. Iris smiled at her phone, much to the displeasure of the woman who silently entered Mr. Cavendish’s office bearing a calfskin pad folio.
“Anything good?” Barbara Cavendish asked with bemused disinterest. She was as sleek and elegant as always, but today she was clad in dark neutrals that gave off a “corporate gorgon” energy as she traipsed in from the hallway. “I’d say it must be amusing if you’re smiling at your phone during working hours.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I’m here waiting for Mr. Cavendish to return.” Iris stowed her phone and her bandage caught in her pants pocket as she pulled away. “He told me to wait here, so I—”
“Honestly, I have no idea what he’s up to these days.” Barbara vented. The older woman glided effortlessly to the sectional and set herself down so gracefully that the leather made no audible protest. “Are you his office girl?”
“Me? Well, I—” Iris tried to interject.
“What does he have on his schedule today?” Barbara demanded.
“If memory serves, ma’am, I believe he’s scheduled to meet with Helix representatives, then Combs and Matheson this afternoon.” It had become second nature for Iris to memorize Mr. Cavendish’s schedule, as she so often had to juggle Mr. Maker’s appointments to accommodate his commitments.
“Is that so? Sounds like he’s too busy to see me presently then.” Barbara grumbled. “Pencil me in for four this afternoon. That should give him enough time for the other clients. What are you waiting for? Chop-chop.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Iris maneuvered from the club chair to Mr. Cavendish’s computer and swiped her card to use “guest access” privileges. As an office specialist to Mr. Maker, she had the authority to view and modify executive calendars as part of her job. “All set for four this afternoon. Can I ask what it’s about, so that he can prepare?”
“Oh, it’s a bit above your pay grade, dear.” Barbara chuckled at Iris’s impertinence but failed to see the harm in giving her evasive son a fair warning about her visit. “It’s to discuss mergers and acquisitions.”
Iris jotted the note down in his calendar but raised a puzzled brow at Mrs. Cavendish’s cryptic response. What’s so funny about that? Don’t businesspeople talk about that stuff all the time?
“Very well, then.” Barbara rose from the sectional and glided towards the door without a backwards glance, reminding Iris of Mr. Maker’s wife, Piper. “I’ll be off. Be sure to tell Alden not to cancel our meeting.”
She only needed to wait three minutes before Mr. Cavendish returned to his office, looking like he’d survived some irritating ordeal. Iris hadn’t been idle during the interval, and had prepared a decaffeinated, chocolate, and mint coffee for him to enjoy.
“What’s this for?” Mr. Cavendish asked as he toted Iris’s first aid kit to the desktop.
“It’s a trade, sir, to thank you for—”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s my pleasure to help.” Mr. Cavendish took a sip from his mug and smiled. It was still terribly hot, but the mint took his mind off his distasteful visit to Warren’s office, so he took another drink. “This is delightful, thanks.”
Mr. Cavendish knelt to the floor and took exceptional care to wrap Iris’s wrists and forearms gently, as her bruises were much angrier under her current wrappings than he would have guessed. It seemed rude to comment about Iris’s injuries, so he pivoted to a more neutral topic. “Anything interesting happen while I was out?”
“Oh, yes, sir.” Iris remembered as he gingerly handled her delicate wrist. “Mrs. Cavendish dropped by. She had me pencil her in with you for four this afternoon.”
“Really? For what? What did she say?” Mr. Cavendish dreaded the reason and waited anxiously for Iris’s reply.
“Mergers and acquisitions.” Iris recalled. “She said ‘tell Alden not to cancel,’ or something to that effect.”
Iris couldn’t help but notice Mr. Cavendish falter when she said his name. Realizing her mistake, Iris tried to backpedal. “I’m sorry, sir. Do you not like me saying your name?”
“It’s not that.” Mr. Cavendish winced. “I don’t like it when she calls me by my first name. It usually means she wants something… But I like hearing it when you say it…”
Mr. Cavendish hadn’t realized what he’d said. Fatigue had numbed his reason and he feared that his babbling had put Iris off. A quick glance up at her replaced his embarrassment with optimism. Iris simply smiled politely back at him as if waiting for Mr. Cavendish to elaborate.
“You can feel free to call me Alden when it’s just the two of us.” He finished wrapping Iris’s wrists with bandages and ensured that her splotchy bruises were entirely covered. “There now. You’re all set.”
Alden realized at that moment that the wrappings were more for concealing her injuries than protecting them. He couldn’t imagine the gossip and rumors that would develop from having her show up to work in such an abysmal state. This place was terribly difficult for either of them to be trapped in, and he longed for a way to get relief for them both.
“Say, Iris.” Alden wanted nothing more than to avoid his mother’s heavy-handed meddling and landed on an idea without entirely thinking it through. “Would you like to be somewhere else with me at four today?”
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