Page 8

Chapter eight

I t was week three and Vic and Paris found themselves sitting at the boardroom table. The room was quiet as everyone poured a cup of coffee and passed around bagels and tubs of cream cheese. Paris had a knot in her stomach and couldn’t bring herself to eat. Instead, she stared at the blue-gray walls and the many art prints the board had chosen as decoration. Each image was of some exotic place with blue-green waters, palm trees, or caverns. All strategically placed to promote a calm and relaxing feel. Much to her chagrin, she found herself wishing she could crawl into one of the images and disappear.

Never had she felt so out of place in her own life. This time, it was she who had messed up, and the knot grew as she thought about the possible punishment awaiting her. The sooner the meeting began, the sooner she could deal with the next obstacle.

“Paris,” said her mother, “how are things going for you?”

Paris’s stomach flipped and acid rose up in her throat. Swallowing, she slowly looked up. She didn’t want to answer the question, but she knew she had no choice. “Not well,” she replied. “I had a complete emotional breakdown and spent my remaining money on an online auction.” Her eyes dropped to the table as she swallowed, trying to maintain her composure.

Nicola let out a short sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that, my dear. Even during times of stress, we must learn to be in control of our actions.”

“That’s disappointing to hear,” noted her father. “How does this situation make you feel?” he asked Paris.

“I’m embarrassed,” she said, raising her eyes to look at her father.

“That’s a fitting response,” said Nicola.

“Vic, what do you think about Paris’s situation?” asked Jessamine.

“I think it’s unfortunate,” he replied, scowling in Paris’s direction.

“Don’t you think it’s partially your failure, too?” asked Dom.

Vic’s head whipped around to look at his father. “What? Why is it my failure?” asked Vic. “She did this on her own time. How can I possibly control her when we don’t live together?”

“He makes a grand point,” replied Jessamine. “Which gives me an idea. We’ll come back to that in a moment. First, I want to check in with Mya and Chase. What insights do you have into last week?”

Mya chimed in and said, “I believe Paris has had a rough week. Some of it’s not her fault. She did her best and ran into some unforeseen situations, which caused a couple of accidents at work. We filed the necessary paperwork, but the week took an emotional toll on her, which is why she had a breakdown and spent all of her money. While I know she made a mistake, I’m asking that you take her week into consideration and cut her some slack this one time.”

It shocked Paris to hear Mya sticking up for her. She didn’t know why the girl bothered, but she was thankful for the undue kindness.

Jessamine’s face grew stern. “Let’s for a moment consider Paris’s prior position as a Senior Planner. Regularly, Paris handled sizeable sums of her client’s money. What if she had a bad day and spent her client’s money on an auction? Is that okay?”

“Well, no,” replied Mya. “She spent her own money in this scenario.”

“Did she?” asked Jessamine. “Consider that her success and failures are linked to Vic’s. Would that not mean the money is both of theirs? How is that unlike her client?”

Mya’s mouth dropped open as her understanding set in. “You’re right. It’s inexcusable in either case.”

“Indeed. Her actions were selfish, and she did not act like a rational adult,” replied Jessamine.

“Chase, what about Vic?” asked Cristo.

“He’s doing great. His money’s in order. He worked hard this week and completed all tasks assigned to him.” Chase clasped his hands together with satisfaction.

“That’s wonderful,” replied Cristo. “We’ve received the same information from Burt.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” said Nicola, “we need to have a brief discussion, and then we’ll let you know what happens next. Mya and Chase, you may stay, but I ask that Paris and Vic step out into the hall at this time.”

Vic and Paris exited the room. Once the door was closed behind them, Vic turned to Paris, who had tears in her eyes. “Don’t do that,” he said. “There’s no reason to cry at this time.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied. “We could be further demoted.”

“I really hope that doesn’t happen,” said Vic. The idea made him uncomfortable. “By the way, I spoke to Breanna. She thinks we’re being tested.”

Paris arched an eyebrow. “Tested on what?”

“I’m unsure, which is why I’m telling you. Do you have any thoughts?”

She shook her head. “Believe me, if I think of anything, I’ll let you know, but right now, I’m emotionally and physically drained. I have no idea what I’m going to do about my money situation. Frankly, I’m a little scared, which is a rare feeling for me.”

“I still can’t believe you spent all that money on an auction. My mom’s right. That’s selfish.”

“I shop when I’m stressed,” she admitted. “Your brother was of no help.”

“Yeah, trust me, I’m none too happy with him.”

“I won’t be able to pay my rent or even buy food,” stated Paris. She once again looked as though she may cry at any moment. She tried to pull it together, but her lip began to quiver uncontrollably.

Vic debated hugging her but decided against it. He didn’t like Paris, and a hug would most likely be misconstrued. “Seriously,” he said, “you have to pull it together. Someone will be coming for us any moment. Do you really want them to see you cry?”

Paris looked at him, and the tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks. True to traditional Vic style, he was acting cold as ever. On cue, the door to the boardroom opened. Paris turned away, wiping the tears from her face. Luckily, the person retrieving them was Chase and not one of their family members.

“You may come back in,” said Chase as he motioned them toward the entrance.

Paris and Vic took their original seats and waited anxiously to hear what fate would hold in store for them.

“We’ve reviewed the week and made some decisions,” said Dom, as he ran his hand over his bald head. “You’ll be staying in Janitorial. Paris, we wish you a better week than last. It sounds like you’re lucky to be intact after the mishaps you suffered. Unfortunately, because of your financial indiscretions, we’ve decided that you and Vic will be moving to different housing.”

“We feel,” noted Jessamine, “that you’ll be more inclined to help one another succeed if you live in the same apartment.”

“No!” blurted Vic. “I can’t live with her!”

“Vic,” barked Dom, “you don’t have a choice. You’re to help each other succeed. That’s part of the deal. Right now, Paris is in trouble, and this is the best solution we could find. Contrary to your belief, we don’t enjoy treating you like children. Now show us what you’re made of so we can restore you to your rightful positions within the company.”

“Mya, Chase, please take the morning to help them move into their new places. We’ll call Janitorial to let them know their shifts will begin in the afternoon and extend into the evening.”

Paris winced at having to move in with Vic. While she knew living with him was a recipe for disaster, she kept her mouth shut because she also knew Jessamine was right. It was the only option at this point. She had thrown her rights away for a Chanel clutch and a new pair of Jimmy Choo stilettos. She had no one but herself to blame.

It only took an hour to gather their things from their current apartments and scoot on down the hall to their new combined home. It had been too much to hope that they’d escape the noise of the morning renovations. Vic assumed this was all part of their punishment, either that, or their parents were trying to hide them from the other residents.

The new place was larger, which was a relief to Paris. It had a large balcony with a table and chairs, as well as two reclining sun chairs. Decorated in shades of blue and green, it felt more tranquil than the last place. They each had their own bedroom, with closets incorporated. They would share a bathroom, but at least it was slightly larger and had built-in closet storage, a full-size shower, and a vanity with his and hers sinks.

The living room held a couch, loveseat, and one cozy overstuffed chair, all a cream-colored microfiber. They had a fireplace and a built-in bookcase with several books from all different genres. The television, mounted above the fireplace, appeared to be roughly forty inches. Not huge, but decent enough.

They even had a large kitchen with a breakfast bar and bistro table with chairs. This apartment had already been remodeled, which came as a surprise to both Paris and Vic.

“Not bad,” said Vic.

“This is an upgrade compared to the places we’ve lived previously,” commented Paris.

“Yeah, but we traded in our privacy,” he pointed out.

“You two need to look at it as a positive change,” stated Chase. “This doesn’t have to be a negative experience. Truthfully, I'm shocked they gave you one of the upgraded two-bedrooms since I know for a fact there are other apartments of the same size that have not been redone yet. They must have felt sorry for Paris and the week she’d had.”

“Honestly,” said Mya, “you’re lucky you weren’t further demoted in your jobs. Jessamine talked Mikel into moving you into this apartment together, over his intentions of forcing you to do community service and to request a loan to pay your rent at your previous apartments.”

“I’d choose this situation hands-down,” replied Vic. “Forced community service with a work-group would be highly embarrassing for the company. I'm certain people would recognize us, which means it would only be a matter of time before it hit the newsstands.”

Paris said nothing. She was thankful that Jessamine had such a soft and kind heart. Her own mother, while loving, held no qualms about taking strict action.

“The only catch is that this apartment is slightly more expensive,” said Chase. “You now owe eleven hundred per month for rent, and as you know, Paris has no money to pay.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of that. Paris, as a trade, you’ll do all the housework until you’re able to pay your portion of the rent and grocery bill. Sound like a deal?”

Paris sighed. “It would appear I have no choice.”

“No, you really don’t have a choice,” said Vic. “You’re not my wife or my girlfriend, so you’ve got to pay.” He added smugly. “As it is, I might have to see if Jack will spot me for the remainder of the month.”

The week progressed onward, and Paris and Vic tried to stay out of each other’s hair as much as possible, but Vic’s patience were wearing thin with Paris’s morning routine, and Paris was becoming quickly agitated with Vic’s evening routine. On top of it all, the remodeling noise continued at six in the morning, despite their requests to have it begin at a later time.

Each morning, it took Paris two hours to get ready. Vic would knock at the door and beg her to hurry up for fear they’d be late to work. She would refuse to let him in while she was doing her makeup and hair. In the evening, Vic would watch television until eleven-thirty each night, cutting into Paris’s ten o’clock bedtime. She frequently asked him to turn down the volume, tossing and turning as she tried to ignore the noise coming through from the other room. She tried earplugs, but they hurt her ears and only led to further discomfort and frustration. With little sleep, she’d be abruptly jolted awake at six o’clock by the hammering and clanking up the hall.

On Tuesday, Paris discovered a leaking pipe in the eighth-floor ladies’ room. She was instructed to oversee the job and assist in any way necessary, which seemed easy enough. The plumber was fairly new and failed to recognize the compromised state of the pipe he was working on. As he tightened things up, the pipe broke loose, which caused water to spray out everywhere, soaking him and Paris. Screaming, Paris tried to escape the spray, but she tripped over the plumber’s tools and once again was propelled backward. She launched straight into an open stall and cracked her head on the rim of the toilet, which caused her to see stars.

“My goodness, you again?” asked Dr. Schuh. “What happened this time?”

She told the doctor what had happened and then requested to go home, but Dr. Schuh insisted on a CT scan to be sure she was okay after the previous week's incidents. The scan checked out, and she was sent on her way, with the familiar feeling of embarrassment. Dr. Schuh had been surprised that, in all of Paris's follies, she had only acquired one concussion. He proclaimed she must be one of the unluckiest or luckiest people he had ever treated. Paris was inclined to think it was the former, but was thankful she hadn’t suffered worse.

When Vic arrived home, Paris was on the couch icing her neck and head.

“I hear you had another accident. This has got to be a record of some kind, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Most definitely. I really hate this job,” she replied. “If it weren’t for my grandfather, I don’t think I’d be able to tolerate it.”

“Maybe you need to be more careful,” replied Vic.

“Maybe you need to keep your mouth shut. You think I don’t already feel crummy enough?” she snapped. “For the life of me, I cannot figure out how I end up in these predicaments.”

“Maybe you just suck at life,” Vic responded angrily.

The conversation escalated until they were both yelling and throwing jabs at one another. The evening concluded when Vic and Paris each marched to their own bedrooms, slamming the doors behind them.

Paris cried herself to sleep. She was miserable, and she wished she could talk to her sister or a friend, but in reality, she had no one. She alienated all of her friends, and there was no one left in her corner. Not even Vic, who was in the same crummy situation as her. She wished she could fall asleep and never wake up.

Vic laid awake most of the night thinking about how he could improve his situation and get Paris out of his home, but there was no viable answer. He was stuck. He couldn’t kick her out. How was he supposed to have an intimate relationship with anyone when Paris was always home? He fell asleep thinking about how he could remedy his intimacy issues.

As the week progressed, Paris had several minor mishaps, but nothing that sent her back to medical. Despite hating the job, she continued to work hard. She rarely worked alongside Vic anymore. Burt realized the two didn’t get along and sent them to different sections of the building to avoid any conflict.

Vic did his job with ease, despite disliking it intensely. His only motivation was to do well so he could move to a better job in the near future. Paris felt a similar motivation but hoped her clumsiness didn’t stand in the way. They were both thankful for the distance between them.

Before they knew it, Friday evening had arrived. The pair waltzed into their apartment, ready to relax. Opening the fridge, Vic grabbed two beers and handed one to Paris as a peace treaty. Trudging into the living room, he flopped down on the couch and she on the loveseat. Neither spoke a word for over an hour. Vic got up once and replaced their empty beers with full ones.

“Are you hungry?” asked Paris.

“Starved. The weekend’s here. Why don’t we order a pizza?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” she replied.

“It’s easy, and I don’t feel like going anywhere or cooking. Lord knows you’re a terrible cook,” he said.

“Hey, I resent that,” replied Paris. “I’m not a bad cook. You’re just highly critical.”

“Well, I am a food critic,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I also have a chef's background, so there’s that.”

“Exactly, so how could I possibly live up to your high standards?”

“Come now,” he said, “burnt toast is well below most human standards.”

“That was one time!” she protested.

“Let’s not fight,” he said with a sigh. “It’s time to relax. We’ve had a long week. Let’s order our food and enjoy our beers. Why don’t you pick out a movie while I call and order?”

Two hours later, Vic and Paris were relaxed from the alcohol and contented by their full bellies as the movie came to a close.

Turning off the television, Vic turned toward Paris. “Tell me something,” he requested. “Why do you steal? What’s the purpose behind it?”

“Direct, huh? I don’t know. I guess stealing makes me feel alive. Why do you have such a bad temper and sleep with anything that moves?” she countered.

“I don’t sleep with anything that moves,” he shot back. “I haven’t slept with anyone in over a week.”

“Oh, wow, a week,” replied Paris. “I can’t imagine how you’re able to survive.”

“Funny.”

Shaking her head at him, she asked, “But honestly, why?”

“Probably for the same reasons you steal and previously popped pills.”

“Tell me, since you seem to have everything figured out, why do you think we do these things?”

This time Vic shook his head at her as he gave in to the truth. “Loss. Right? We do it because of the pain we feel from the loss.”

“You’re still hurting?” asked Paris. She never thought he’d admit it. There wasn’t a day that went by in which she didn’t wish Alli was still alive.

“Yes,” he replied. “Brody was my best friend. We kept each other sane. How do you say goodbye and move on from a loss like that?” Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes and he blinked them away, taking on a more serious face.

“I miss my sister so much,” replied Paris. “I’d give anything to have her back. I’d sell my soul.”

“That’s pretty extreme,” replied Vic. “I don’t think Brody or Alli would want you to sell your soul to bring them back.”

“You wouldn’t do the same?”

“No. I’m pretty strict on that rule.”

“Do you think we’ll ever get past this?”

“I think there’ll always be a piece that hurts and longs to have them back, but I believe we have to find a way to move on. Don’t you think it’s time? I, for one, don’t want to be arrested ever again.”

“Yeah, me neither,” replied Paris.

“Then you have to stop stealing things. Stealing will surely land you in jail.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said half-heartedly. He was catching her at a vulnerable time when she actually had no money to buy even the small things she wanted, but she knew he was right.

“And stop with the pills. You’ll kill yourself if you keep on with that. I don’t think your parents deserve to lose both of their children.”

Paris’s expression went dark. “I told you, I haven’t tried to take any pills since the first day in the boardroom. Mya ground up the last of them in my disposal.”

Vic cocked his head as he looked at her. “That’s good. Smart girl, that Mya.”

“Whatever,” replied Paris. “I wasn’t taking them enough to become addicted.”

“That’s what an addict would say,” noted Vic. “Just don’t. I won’t tolerate living with an addict or a thief.”

Paris jumped up from the loveseat. “Okay, womanizer.”

“I’m not a womanizer,” Vic barked.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Anyway, I’m going to bed,” she said and disappeared into her room.

Vic thought about her words. He knew he had a voracious sexual appetite, but did that make him a womanizer? It wasn’t as if he was incapable of meaningful relationships. He wanted something real, but the last girl he’d given his heart to had pulverized it and divulged his private life to the press. How could a man trust any woman after an incident like that? Pushing himself up, he turned off the living room light and headed for bed. He was tired and didn’t want to think about his conversation with Paris any further, but her words had cut deep enough to haunt him while he slept.

It was one in the morning when a loud banging sound woke Paris from her sleep. At first, it didn’t register that the sound was someone pounding on her door, but then she heard Vic asking if she was awake.

“Paris, wake up!” he hollered.

“I’m awake,” she replied groggily. “What do you want?”

“There’s been an accident,” said Vic. His voice came out with a shakiness that was uncharacteristic of him.

“What?” squeaked Paris. “What kind of accident?” Fear flooded her body turning her legs to jelly. She found herself propelled back in time to the night when Alli and Brody were killed. What if it was her parents or her grandfather?

Vic could hear the fear in her voice. He didn’t know how to proceed, so he was as direct as possible. “Mya and Chase,” he said. “They were out with some friends this evening, and their car was hit by a drunk driver on the way home. Chase called and said they were in an ambulance and being transported to the hospital. I told him we’d meet him there.”

Paris’s mind felt numb, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins gave her the strength to jump out of bed. Trying not to panic, she pulled on her sweats and a pair of socks. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she called to him as she searched for her tennis shoes.

When Paris emerged from the bedroom, she realized they had a problem. “How will we get to them when we don’t have a vehicle?”

“I called Jack. I’m sure he’s already outside waiting for us.”

They hurried from the apartment without another word. When they arrived in the lobby, Jack was indeed waiting for them. Paris crawled into the backseat as Vic took the spot in front. Feeling as if the blood had drained from her head, she gasped, “I can’t breathe.”

“Don’t think about what’s going on,” replied Vic. “Focus on positive thoughts and try to relax. Take a deep breath in and let it out slowly.”

Paris tried to do as he said, but it was of no use. She began to hyperventilate, and before she knew it, she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness.

Vic, realizing he had lost her, unfastened his belt and crawled into the back seat. “Jack, do you have anything to drink?” he asked.

“Yeah, here,” he said, handing him his water bottle.

Vic pulled Paris over and placed her head in his lap. Grabbing her wrist, he assessed her pulse, which seemed okay. Lightly tapping her cheek, her eyes began to flutter open. “Hey,” he said. “Come on back to me. You’re okay.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“You hyperventilated and fainted,” he replied. Paris tried to push herself up, but Vic stopped her. “I think you should rest for a moment.”

“I’m okay, I think.” Paris looked into his intense blue eyes. She was shocked that he could be so kind and caring.

“I’m sure you’re fine, but I still think taking it easy with moving isn’t a bad idea.”

She took his advice and was oddly enjoying the sensation of lying in his lap, but then she wondered what was wrong with her? Had she hit her head when she fainted? Deciding to fight the feeling, she gently pushed away from him, and despite his disdain, he helped her back into a seated position and handed her the water.

“Drink it,” he said softly. “It’s Jack’s. As far as we know, he doesn’t have any major diseases yet.”

“Gee, thanks,” replied Jack from the driver’s seat. Vic slugged his shoulder. “Jerk,” replied Jack.

“You know I love you, little brother,” said Vic. You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“I know,” said Jack.

“How long until we’re at the hospital?” asked Paris.

“We’re nearly there,” said Jack.

“Do we know anything about Mya or what kind of shape either of them is in?” asked Paris. A knot had formed in her stomach. It seemed to be a trend as of late.

“Chase said Mya was driving and that they were hit from the driver’s side. Her car’s pretty messed up. He was told that she’s stable, but he doesn’t know much beyond that.”

“What about him?” asked Jack. “Is he okay?”

“They weren’t completely sure. He said they wanted to check him over more to be on the safe side. I guess he hit his head pretty hard against the window,” replied Vic.

At the hospital, Chase met them in the waiting room.

“They’ll be retrieving me any moment,” said Chase. “I need to have my head scanned. The doctor said they’re admitting Mya. She didn’t respond well when they checked her over. She’s pretty banged up, and they want to monitor her overnight. They said it would take about an hour to get her situated, but then we can see her. I tried to call her family, but apparently, they’re on vacation in Madrid. If anything changes, we’ll need to track them down.”

Paris looked at Chase, and she could no longer hold back her emotion. Tears flooded her cheeks as she tried to stifle her sobs.

“Paris,” said Chase, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“We could have lost her,” wailed Paris. “We could have lost both of you.”

“Trust me, it was scary, but we’re going to be okay,” replied Chase.

“Come here,” demanded Vic. Paris didn’t move. She was afraid to move, especially

toward him.

Stepping forward, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight as she sobbed into his t-shirt. Despite her conflicting feelings, his arms felt safe and warm, and she preferred the woodsy scent of his cologne to that of the sterile waiting room.

“I think this is a wake-up call,” he whispered to her. “We need to move forward with our

lives. Brody and Alli would be heartbroken by how we’ve been acting.”

Paris pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes were glossy and she could see a year’s worth of sadness in them. She knew he was right.

“We’ve pushed enough people away, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to lose Mya like I lost Alli,” she replied honestly.

“No, and I’m growing quite fond of Chase, so losing him would be a pity as well,” he said quietly so only she could hear.

“He’s a pretty great guy.” Wiggling out of his arms, Paris took a step back and dried her eyes. A nurse came into the room and called Chase’s name.

“I’ll see you two in a bit,” he said as he headed toward the nurse.

“Should we take a seat?” asked Jack. “We still have about forty-five minutes until we can see Mya.”

Vic nodded. “Let’s. I’m tired, and I don’t feel like standing around while we wait.”

Jack led them over to some reclining chairs and a couch where they made themselves comfortable. Vic looked over at Paris. She was already reclined back in her chair and, from the looks of it, nearly asleep. He didn’t know what had come over him. Holding her in his arms had felt too good. Was he developing a soft spot for her? Or even worse, feelings? Shaking his head, he brushed the idea aside and settled in on the couch for a nap. The feeling would pass. No need to make something out of nothing. It had, after all, been a high-stress evening.