Page 5

Chapter five

I t was the night of the Gala and Mya stood outside Paris’s door waiting for an answer. The week had been quiet. She hadn’t yet agreed to go to counseling. Mikel and Nicola gave her a week to consider, but informed her of the options if she decided not to go. She didn’t want to admit defeat. She knew Paris was angry and hurting, but she believed her friend was still in there somewhere.

Growing impatient, she knocked a second time. Paris didn’t answer. As she turned to walk away, Vic exited his condo.

“Hey, Mya, I think Paris left already. I heard her talking to someone by the elevators.”

“Well, that answers my first question. Apparently, she is avoiding me. Thanks for letting me know. How was your week?”

“It was weird. I don’t recall the last time I missed work. That job’s pretty much my life,” he said with a sigh.

“Do you agree with the things they said?” she asked, waiting for his reaction.

Vic’s face wrinkled as he considered the question. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s as bad as they’re making it out to be. Maybe I’m a little hard on my employees from time to time.”

Mya could tell he was in denial. He did not know how cold he had become. She once watched him fire an intern for spilling coffee on herself. The intern was mortified, and Vic’s anger only added to the humiliation. Dom later called the intern and offered her a spot at one of the magazines to make up for his son’s extreme reaction and to get her out of the way before they had a lawsuit on their hands.

“Not just a little, Vic. A lot. You even scare me at times, and I’ve known you most of my life.”

Vic straightened his tie and pushed the elevator button. He didn’t speak the entire ride down. Mya continued to watch his face, which seemed to agonize over something. Maybe her comment?

“Hey,” he said as the elevator doors popped open, and they began walking again. “I never meant to scare you, and I hope I never do again. It bothers me to know you’ve felt that way.”

“I’m not scared right now,” she said with a half-smile.

“That’s good.” Pausing, he turned to her and said, “You look beautiful, Mya. I hope you enjoy tonight. You deserve to have some fun. Anyway, I need to run an errand over at the main office. If you will, please tell my parents that I’ve called for a ride, and I’ll be along shortly.”

“Sure thing,” she said. Continuing on, she headed for the limo waiting curbside. The partners, along with Paris and Jack, were already seated. Cristo planned to follow separately in his own car to ensure he didn’t drink too much.

“Nice tux, Mr. DeMarcé,” said Mya as she climbed into the limo. Mikel wore a blue Vince Camuto slim-fit tuxedo, which he pulled off magnificently. He believed in dressing well, but he shopped all different brands despite the billions he had in the bank. Price did not dictate what he bought, whereas Paris seemed to be of the mindset that the pricier the item, the better it would be.

“Thank you, my dear.” Mikel flashed a debonaire smile.

“Good evening, Mya,” said Dom. “Have you seen Vic?”

“Yes. He’ll follow us. He needed to stop off at the office.”

“That boy’s mind is always on work,” said Jessamine. “We should have forced him to take time off to grieve last year. Maybe we’re to blame for his emotional stagnation?” Jessamine let out a sniffle.

“Let’s not point any fingers,” replied Dom, squeezing her hand. “Grief is a tricky thing. We’ll get through this.”

“I agree,” said Mikel. “Pointing fingers won’t fix it. Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight.” Turning to Paris, he gave her a wink. “I think Paris and Vic understand our concerns, and they will put in the work to make improvements.”

Paris nodded stoically at her father.

Sitting across from Paris, Mya looked her over cautiously. She wore a short red satin dress with metallic silver stilettos, probably Versace, though Mya refused to stare and give Paris a reason to bite her head off as she attempted to place the brand. Paris was a huge fan of Versace, as well as Louis Vuitton and Prada. She wore her long wavy hair twisted neatly atop her head with slightly poofed bangs. Dangling silver earrings adorned her ears and a matching necklace hung just above her cleavage. The jewelry most likely came from Tiffany, another of Paris’s favorite brands. Only the best for Princess Paris.

“Paris,” said Mya, “How are you this evening?” Mya wanted to show Mikel and Nicola that she and Paris could have a polite conversation. She hoped she was right.

Paris looked up at Mya and immediately frowned. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Well enough. You look nice,” added Mya.

“Thanks,” replied Paris. “You look decent too.”

Mya knew the poor compliment was the best Paris would do. She didn’t need Paris to tell her she looked good. She knew she did. She wore a black and navy long lacy dress with black heels and black stud earrings. The dress, unlike Paris’s, was not expensive, but it fit her well, and it made her feel beautiful. She wore her hair clipped into place with a black barrette.

“Where’d you find those heels?” asked Paris. “They look pretty cheap.”

“Wow, Paris, totally uncalled for,” scolded her mother. “I think you look gorgeous. The heels are great with that dress.”

“Thanks, Nicola,” replied Mya. So much for making nice in front of the parents , she thought.

The second the limo stopped, Paris bolted. She needed to distance herself as far as possible from Mya and the rest of ADG. She waltzed into the ballroom like she owned the place and instantly put on her fake smile for all to see. Assessing the room, she headed straight for the bar. Without a drink, she didn’t know if she could make it through the evening.

“Good evening, Ms. DeMarcé,” said a voice that Paris could only describe as chocolate decadence for her ears. She spun around to face him and her heart fluttered.

“Mr. Tom Mariano, how are you this fine evening?” she replied in her silkiest voice. Paris had harbored feelings for him since the day they’d first met seven years earlier. Never had she made an advance on her handsome coworker. His blue eyes sparkled back at her. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his luscious black locks. Or, even better, roll around in a set of satin sheets while her body entangled with his long, lean, and muscular one. Her lips longed to taste his perfect olive skin. He had a certain charm and confidence that pulled women in. When he laughed, the sound was rich, and she wanted to be its cause.

“I’m well. Would you care for a drink?” Tom held out a glass of wine. “I hoped I’d find you here,” he confessed.

“Really?” asked Paris as she grabbed the glass. While she held her poker face, she grinned wildly on the inside. They worked together at Sense of Adventure, and at times he seemed to flirt with her, but this was the first time he had gone out of his way to get her attention.

“Really,” he replied. “Why don’t we find a table?”

“Okay,” she said. Grabbing her free hand, Tom led her to the opposite side of the ballroom. She took a seat as he situated himself across from her.

Smiling, he took a sip of wine, then said, “You look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing.

“I want to talk to you about the Prescotts.”

Paris’s smile flatlined. “What about the Prescotts?” The Prescott family had come to Sense of Adventure to plan the perfect sweet sixteen for their daughter Sophia. She wanted the party to be themed, and money was of no concern. Paris was excited to take their family on as clients. She had planned many birthday events and was a natural when it came to satisfying young women's imaginations. She knew what girls wanted, especially when the budget had no cap.

“I’d really like to work their account,” he replied. “I golf with Mr. Prescott, and he’s become an excellent friend. He requested me for the job. I’m coming to you as a courtesy to let you know that I’m merely doing as requested. I hope you understand.”

In one fluid motion, Paris rose from the table and flicked her wine glass forward as she stepped back, sending white wine droplets into the air. “Oops,” she said. “I’m so clumsy sometimes.” The fire had instantly gone out. Tom was known as a shark, but this was the first glimpse Paris had been given of his predatorial maneuvering. “Thank you for the heads up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find myself a different drink.”

“Paris,” said Tom, as he wiped wine from his jacket, “don’t be like that. I really did want to spend some time with you this evening.”

“Well then,” she replied curtly, “I guess you shouldn’t have stolen my client.” Turning on her heel, she left him gaping after her. He had hurt her pride, and she’d be damned if she would give him the pleasure of her company after he took away the only client she’d been excited about in months.

Stopping off at the bathroom, Paris looked at herself in the mirror. Her dress had survived the wine shower. Her makeup was intact. She looked good, but she felt terrible on the inside. Someone should put me out of my misery , she thought. As she continued to stare into the mirror, she heard the click of approaching heels.

“How’s it going?” asked Mya.

“God, you again? What? Are you my shadow? Why are you constantly following me around?”

“I’m sorry,” said Mya. “I’ll find a different bathroom, I guess.” Turning away, she headed for the door.

Calling after her, Paris said, “Do whatever you want. It’s a free country.”

Mya paused and let out a deep sigh. “Is it? Most of the time, I feel like I’m more trapped than the animals at the zoo.”

Paris watched her leave. There had been a time when she would have told Mya everything. She would have laughed and cried with her. They would have had each other’s backs. That time was over. Paris had made sure of it. The loss of Mya hurt, but Paris, like a car whose brakes had gone out, couldn’t seem to slow down or stop herself from certain destruction.

Exiting the powder room, Paris noticed the band had begun to play. People would begin flocking to the dance floor. It was the perfect time to check out the silent auction. She had high hopes that there would be some expensive couture items to bid on. Maybe some shoes. She loved shoes more than anything.

Walking into the auction room, her heart sank. There, on the opposite side of the room perusing the goods, was none other than Meagan Heathrow. She let out an unladylike growl as she added the unfortunate situation to her list of things that were ruining her night.

“Yeah, you might not want to go in there right now,” Vic whispered in her ear. “I plan to avoid that situation like the plague it is, and I suggest we move out of sight immediately.”

Paris followed him back to the ballroom. “This is where we part.” She waved him off as she headed for the bar.

“Yeah, it’s probably best you stay away from the silent auction. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for stealing anything.” Vic laughed.

Without so much as a glance, she shot back, “Try not to bribe any cops tonight.”

“Hey, if you weren’t such a psychopath, I wouldn’t have had to bribe anyone. Who sneaks into someone else’s condo and tries to steal their date’s shoes? Ya lunatic!”

Paris spun around and glared at him. “Who leaves a major media event with someone else’s wife and then takes her up to his own condo? Idiot! You deserved much worse than you got!”

“What I do is none of your business!” he growled.

Without realizing it, they had each taken several steps toward one another and were now screaming in each other’s faces. Those around them had stopped to stare. Their angry banter had drowned out the band and all other sounds within the room.

Mya, noticing the confrontation, rushed over to Paris and Vic to diffuse the argument. Jack, who had been talking with Mya, ran after her to help.

“Stop! You’re making a scene,” she hissed as she tried to pull Paris away from Vic.

“You’re so awful, Paris. No one likes you!” boomed Vic.

“Yeah, well, everyone thinks you’re a cold-hearted man-whore!” lashed Paris. “A first-class dick.”

“Vic, man, let’s go,” said Jack. Grabbing his brother’s arm, he pulled him toward the doors. “This is not the place for an angry outburst,” he stated as his eyes scanned the room.

Vic shook his head in anger. “You’re not worth it!” he called over his shoulder as he followed Jack.

“Hey!” said an angry voice. Both Paris and Vic stopped and turned to see their red-faced fathers staring them down. “Both of you, get out,” hissed Mikel.

“Dad, he—” protested Paris.

“I don’t want to hear it!” snapped Mikel.

“The limo is waiting outside. You are to leave immediately,” instructed Dom. “What you’ve done here tonight carries serious consequences. I hope you’re prepared to face them.”

“Dad—” pleaded Vic.

“Don’t,” replied Dom. “You were warned. It’s over. Now go, or I’ll have you removed. Mya, I want you and Jack to escort them to the limo.” Without another word, he and Mikel headed back to their friends, who were all whispering amongst themselves. Dom knew the scene the kids had caused would be a public relations nightmare, but part of him thought maybe it would be best to let it ride. Force them to deal with the consequences of their actions. No protection this time around , he thought.

Mya and Jack walked Vic and Paris to the limo and watched as they silently climbed inside. No one spoke a word. Tears ran down Paris’s face and her body shook with humiliation.

Vic glared at Paris the entire ride. He blamed her for the outburst and for provoking his anger. She had ruined his entire night. Paris was absolutely the worst human being he knew.

The following workday began like any other. Vic checked into all of his accounts, met with three of his current clients to sort the details of their upcoming travel adventures, and looked over some new client matches to debate who was best suited for whom. With a stroke of luck, he never once ran into Paris, which had him wondering if she’d even bothered coming in to work?

Entering their condo at the end of the workday, Vic’s luck ran out. Paris stood in front of the elevator, tapping her foot as she waited. “Great, it’s you,” he said with disdain. He felt as if his temperature had risen at the sight of her. He peeled off his grey suit coat and folded it over his arm.

“I hope you realize you don’t have to talk to me,” remarked Paris. “I mean, it seems simple enough, but you never seem to keep your mouth shut, which is exactly why everything went to hell last night.”

As the elevator doors opened, they both stepped inside. Clenching his teeth, Vic reached out and pressed their floor number. When the doors reopened, they both exited and went in opposite directions. Vic reached his door first. Inserting his key, the lock didn’t budge. From down the hall, he heard Paris say, “What the heck?” Her key didn’t work either. Clearly, not a coincidence.

“What do you know about this?” yelled Vic.

“Nothing, you?”

“No. Obviously, I don’t know what’s going on,” he replied angrily, “but I'm sure it's all your fault!”

“My fault, whatever!” Paris shot back. “You're the one with the boiling hot temper!”

“Oh, good, you’re both here,” said Mya, her voice catching slightly as she and Chase exited the elevator.

“Your presence is requested in the boardroom,” added Chase.

“Mya, what’s going on?” Vic demanded.

“We know as much as you do. Sorry, man,” said Chase. He hated confrontation, but he always stood up for what he believed was right. As Vic’s assistant, Chase knew how volatile Vic could be. Things needed to change, and he was secretly happy the day had finally arrived. He didn’t hate Vic, but he didn’t particularly like him either.

Mya motioned for them to follow her into the elevator. “Let’s go.” Vic and Paris traipsed back down the hall and into the elevator.

“They’re punishing us, aren’t they?” asked Paris.

“Gotta be,” replied Vic. “What else would this be? Your behavior the other night really torqued them off.”

“You’re both equally to blame,” stated Chase with too much enthusiasm. “It might be best if you don’t speak. We just want to get you to the boardroom and be done with it.”

“Be done with what?” asked Paris. “What exactly is there to be done with?”

“If it were me, I’d fire you,” replied Chase.

“Chase, hush!” demanded Mya. “We don’t know what’s happening. We were told to retrieve you for the meeting. That’s all.”

The walk over to the ADG building felt agonizingly long to Paris. She was anxious and did not know what to expect. She hoped Chase was wrong. Would their parents really fire them? Why had they waited until now? She and Vic had been at work all day.

Entering the boardroom, they found all the key players seated and waiting. Nicola stood in greeting and asked them all, including Chase and Mya, to take a seat. Walking over to the door, she shut it behind them. Normally, they kept the door open, but today was different. Paris could feel her palms beginning to sweat.

“Have you seen this?” roared Dom, tossing a paper over to Vic and Paris. The headline read: Alarie I want to make that clear.” She watched Mya and Chase nod their understanding.

Moving on, Cristo said, “Your belongings are no longer yours. Kiss them goodbye because they’ll stay locked up in your old condos until further notice. If you fail to turn your behavior around, those belongings, as well as your condos, will be given away, and you’ll have to start over on your own.”

“Your assistants will now become your babysitters,” added Mikel. “Chase and Mya, you’re each getting a raise because babysitting children is more daunting than your normal daily tasks. If you two want to act like kids, we’ll treat you as such. If either of you gets physical with Mya or Chase, it’ll result in your immediate discharge from ADG and the family. This shouldn't be an issue, but apparently, Paris has a violent streak in her as of late. It pains us to make these decisions, but we’ve enabled your poor behavior for much too long.”

Nicola looked at Vic and Paris to be sure they were paying close attention. “There are several guidelines we expect you to follow. First, your trust funds and company expense funds are now closed off from use. You’ll be allotted a new account with a debit card. Each account will have $1,500 to get you started in your new lifestyle. This is all the money we’re going to give you, so you best use it wisely. Second, we expect you to keep up with and maintain all of your bills and living expenses, including your rent, utilities, and proper work attire. Aside from your bank card, you will not be allowed any credit cards, and again, there will be no stealing tolerated,” she said, looking at Paris. “You will also abstain from drug use. If we find out that you used drugs, stole, or manipulated anyone into letting you use their credit card, you will be let go from the company immediately.”

“You’ll begin your new jobs in the mailroom tomorrow,” said Dom. Both Vic’s and Paris’s mouths fell open, though they didn’t utter a sound. “You will behave when you’re at work. That means no fights and no yelling. Anything that isn’t proper etiquette for work is grounds for punitive action. Believe me when I say we can always further demote you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Vic.

“Yes,” acknowledged Paris.

“Your babysitters are here to help you,” stated Mikel. “They’ll work with you to put your lives back together. They are your business confidants, and they’ll call you on your bullshit.”

“Now,” said Jessamine, “We did discuss forcing you into therapy to deal with your issues, but all of us agree that forcing someone into therapy does not mean they’ll work at improving, so we’ve decided against it. If you’d like to see a therapist to help you sort out your feelings regarding loss as well as your new situation within the company, we’ll gladly pay for it. Mya, if you’re not up to handling this situation with Paris, please see me after the meeting, and we can have you temporarily switch places with Dom’s assistant, Molly.” Despite her statement, everyone knew Mya would never back down from the challenge of dealing with Paris. It wasn’t in her nature.

“In the meantime, I hope you’ll consider talking to each other,” said Mikel as he looked at each of them in turn. “You will work together to get through this. If you’re upset about your current situation, you have no one to blame but yourselves. You will not complain to your babysitters about how you got here, but you may complain to one another as much as you like, though I hope you won't. Hopefully, it’s sinking in that neither of you is innocent under the current circumstances.”

“Furthermore,” added Nicola. “We’ll reward you if you succeed. However, you’re both responsible if one of you cannot live up to an expectation.”

“We will check in with you every week,” said Cristo. “During our Monday morning check-ins, you’ll find out how you’re doing and whether we’re promoting you. You should also know that we may have others report to us regularly on your behavior at work.”

“If you manage to get it together and work your way back up the corporate ladder, we’ll welcome you with open arms. If you don’t straighten yourselves out, we’ll reserve the right to sever ties between you and the company. Do you understand?” asked Dom.

“Yes,” replied Paris and Vic in unison.

Dom nodded his head. “You’re our children, but strict action is necessary in order to preserve the reputation of this company. Believe me when I say we take no pride in having to move forward in such a manner. Act like the adults you’re meant to be, and we’ll treat you as such. If there are no further questions, we’ll give you the keys to your new apartments and have Mya and Chase take you to them.”

Paris and Vic had no questions. Both were too shocked to speak. Mya grabbed the keys from Mikel, and she and Chase hustled them across campus to the employee housing where they too lived. The building was newly remodeled, except for the top floor.

Looking at the numbers and locations of the new apartments, Mya surmised that her place was much larger and nicer than what Vic and Paris were receiving. Both apartments were on the twelfth floor. Arriving at the first door, Mya handed Paris the key. Paris inserted her key into the lock and swung the door open. Mya cringed when she saw the inside.

“Holy crap!” screeched Paris. “Are we in hell?”

“My, oh my,” said Vic, with a whistle. “I didn’t know ADG owned such small and rundown-looking apartments.”

Mya followed Paris inside. It was a fully furnished studio. The only room inside the apartment was the bathroom, which had a dingy shower stall, pedestal sink, and toilet. Outside the bathroom was a closet with a built-in dresser and clothes hanging bar, as well as a small stacked washer and dryer that looked as if they’d seen better days. The place had to be roughly six-hundred square feet. A bed was next to a small discolored orange and brown paisley loveseat in the living room, which had a small entertainment center across from it. The television was a twenty-four-inch but appeared to have a slight crack in the upper right corner of the screen. Mya speculated it was probably because someone accidentally threw a gaming controller at it. A coffee table stood in front of the loveseat, and at the opposite end sat the kitchen, which held a small fridge, sink, microwave, and range. There were a few cabinets and shelves and a small pantry, but even then, there was barely room for the coffeemaker and toaster.

“I’ve been in larger and cleaner hotel rooms,” said Paris. “This place is a dump. Look at that ugly furniture.”

“Yep, me too,” commented Vic. “Here's hoping my place doesn't look as ugly as yours.”

Mya felt claustrophobic just looking at it, and it wasn’t even her place.

“This blows my mind,” said Chase. “I had no idea apartments could be this small.”

“Super,” said Paris. “How much does this place cost?”

Mya picked up a paper from the coffee table and looked it over. “It says your rent is eight-hundred-and-fifty per month. That includes utilities.”

“So, we have six-hundred-and-fifty dollars left to buy food and clothes?” replied Paris.

“Yup, that’s about right,” said Vic. “However, will you get by?”

“Vic, your apartment is directly next door,” said Chase.

Vic shook his head. “Of course, it is.”

“Here,” said Mya, handing him the key.

Chase followed Vic next door. Upon opening the door, they found that the only difference between Vic’s apartment and Paris’s was that they were flip-flopped regarding the location of each item, and they were different colors. Paris’s was orange, brown, and white, and his was navy, tan, and brown. A much better color palette. Walking to the window, he found he had a view of the park, which wasn’t half bad.

“It’s not terrible,” said Chase. “I mean, it could be worse. They could have cut you off completely and fired you without a chance at redemption.” Which, let’s be honest, he had truly hoped for after the year Vic had put him through.

“Dude, spare me,” he said. “If you really want to help, go get a bottle of Jack and let’s drink until I forget I live here.”

“Will do,” replied Chase. “I’ll order a pizza too.” Anything for a chance to witness his boss’s further agony.

“Good man,” said Vic. “Be sure to see if the girls need anything, won’t you?” He knew Chase disliked him, but he’d play his game if it meant getting his hands on some liquid happiness.

“Already on it,” he said as he left the room. Vic’s thoughtful request surprised Chase. He felt bad for Paris. Despite knowing Vic and she deserved what was coming to them, it would be a hard fall for anyone of their power and background. The pair had grown up in luxury, and tragedy had sent them spiraling out of control. Chase felt a twinge of sadness for them both.

That evening, Vic and Paris called a temporary truce. They sat with Chase and Mya, drinking Jack and Coke and sharing a Margherita pizza from their favorite Italian restaurant up the street. Chase brought chips and a deck of cards, and they played poker around the little coffee table in Vic’s apartment until eleven that night. Paris didn’t want to admit it, but that first night in their new apartments had been entertaining, until two in the morning.

At two that morning, Vic woke from a dead sleep to the sound of Paris screaming. Hurrying toward the sound, he pounded on her apartment door. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a bat!” she cried as she swung open the door. “It buzzed my head and woke me up.”

“I don’t see it,” he said. “Where is it?”

“I think it’s in the bathroom,” she replied as she crawled under the kitchen table.

“Okay, I’ll check it out,” said Vic. Flipping on the light, he agitated the bat, and it flew directly at him, which caused him to shriek like a little girl.

“Did you get it?” asked Paris, her voice quivering. She was terrified of all vermin.

“No, I didn’t get it! It flew back into the living room. Open the doors and windows!” he demanded. Walking back through the living room, he went to the kitchen to see what he could find. Grabbing a frying pan, he felt prepared to fight the winged demon.

“There it is,” said Paris, pointing toward a cabinet in the kitchen.

Vic approached the bat carefully. As he went to hit it with the frying pan, it took flight and flew out the window. Paris bounced into action, slamming it shut behind the winged menace. “Thank you!” she said, exhaling. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Glad I could help. Have a delightful night. I’m going back to bed,” he said with a yawn. Vic did not know what the next day would bring, but he knew if he didn’t get to sleep soon, the next day would be more agonizing than dealing with an entire army of bats.

At six in the morning, Paris awoke to the sound of drilling and hammering. “What in God's name is going on?” she demanded as she stomped across the room. Opening her door, she saw Vic already standing in the hall.

“Lord have mercy!” he bellowed. “They put us on a floor that’s being remodeled!”