Chapter Nineteen - Part One

Charlie

Utter joy rushes through my body when The High Council plane’s engines hum to life. I sit in the same windowless window seat, Maxwell’s statue like body next to me. As we soar into the sky, I can’t help but to be glad that we’re leaving the Posthotel Rattenberg behind…forever preferably.

Maxwell’s ice-cold fingers graze my cheek pulling me away from my wandering mind. “Yes?”

With a flick of his wrist, my phone comes into view. His fingers clutch down on it, leaving fingerprints on the screen. With manic relief I harshly rip it out of his hand and instantly turn it on. Dread and fear turn my annoyed attitude into something more, much more. “Thirty-six missed calls…fifty text messages. I didn’t think it was possible to make things worse, but congratulations, you’ve done it.” Under my breath I mutter. “That’s definitely something to be proud of.”

“I strive to excel at everything.”

“I’m sure you do.” I say in a hushed whisper. I want to be angry, but sadly that’s not the first emotion that bubbles up to the surface. Humor is and that’s not funny. That’s a serious matter I’ll have discuss with myself one day.

The flight back seems to take longer than it did to get to damned Austria to begin with. Maybe because it has something to do with the impending doom that’s waiting for me at home.

Thinking that turning to my phone for comfort would settle my nerves is one of the worst ideas I have. One after the other is the same message said many different ways. ‘Charlie, I’m worried about you. Please call me.’ Fifty missed texts from Dave. I sigh to myself. Way to go, Maxwell. I thought I would be able to blow him off…not anymore.

When that familiar bumpy landing alerts me of our arrival some of my tension is released. Nonetheless, I still have to endure the car ride back home. Unlike leaving for Austria, coming back is different. We’re accompanied by Grace this time. She sat several rows away from us on the plane, but now she sits to my right, sandwiching me in between her and Maxwell. As if life could get any better or worse for that matter.

Grace stays silent, staring out the window, refusing to acknowledge either of us. Even when the car pulls up outside my house and I tell her goodbye, she just waves her hand sheepishly at me. Maxwell, on the other hand, offers to walk me to my door, but I decline. “Maybe you can see what’s wrong with Grace instead.” My hand goes to his shoulder. I pat it lightly before grabbing my luggage from his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t get jealous.” With that said, I walk away, leaving him behind.

Halfway to the front door, I start tapping at my phone. With one short message sent to Morgan saying that I’m home and I’ll see her at work tomorrow, some of my regrets go away. My limbs start to feel heavy as I walk through the house. The loud thump of my luggage as it hits the kitchen floor makes me realize how off my senses are. It’s already quite late and most of my day was spent on a plane. I decide to go to bed to ease my jetlag and to get some rest for the storm that’s brewing for me tomorrow.

Surrounded by the plush comforter, my body loosens up. My eyelids close automatically, my head nuzzles into the pillow, and my feet wrap themselves in the excess blankets at the bottom of the bed. Sweet dreams of nothingness occupy my numb mind. Occasionally, my fingers tug the blankets closer to my body without my brain telling them to. An imaginary chill nips at any exposing skin.

The morning sun streams in through the windows and night has passed and day has come. I stretch my muscles awake with a whisper of rise and shine as I get ready to face the music.

Once I get into the parking lot outside work, a smile comes to my face. I’m back in my comfort zone instead of being surrounded and tested by vampires. The silence in the office building at first is overwhelming, but within a short period of time I grow accustomed to it. Sinking into my large office chair, my hands skim the top of my desk.

“You’re finally back, I see,” Morgan kindly says, standing in my doorway as she usually does.

“Jesus, Morgan, stealthy much.” The words come out louder than I want them to and my hands involuntarily shake like crazy from being startled.

She flat out laughs in my face. Moments later her hands clap together as she clears her throat. “How was your trip with Maxwell?”

“What? How do you know Maxwell? I assure you I went on my business,” putting emphasis on the word business, “trip alone.” My heart pumps faster and faster, trying to keep up with the blood that rushes through my veins as I lie straight to her face.

“You might be a terrific liar, but I have two eye witness accounts that say otherwise.”

“Two?” I can assume that Dave told her or she was present when Dave called expecting to talk to me but got Maxwell on the phone instead.

“I am quite envious of you, successful business woman…a sexy romantic boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Words come spewing out of my mouth. They shouldn’t have been the first words to speak, but I can’t help it. Sounding like a little school girl adds to my embarrassment, but something in me refuses to admit it. The thought that I’m dating a three-hundred-year-old man or have romantic feelings for a walking corpse is…gut-wrenching. The truth is gut-wrenching.

“He came to my house the night before he whisked you away. He wanted to make sure I didn’t freak out at your disappearance since he was planning on leaving a day or so earlier than you expected.” She winks at me, causing my stomach to turn. “I mean, I don’t believe in having intimate relations before marriage, but he is…breathtaking.”

“Morgan!” I’m not sure if I sound more surprised or horrified at her words.

“It’s the truth.”

There’s that word again. Truth.

Morgan gives me a stern look, ready to interrogate me since I didn’t jump on the Maxwell bandwagon the second it came rolling out of her mouth. “What’s so wrong with him, Charlie?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s complicated? Is he married?” She teases.

“No.” My hands fly in the air. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Is it because of Dave?”

My eyes go wide.

“Yeah. I know all about Dave and his OCD affection for you. Let me just say it was a joy to work with him. Charlie this,” her right hand jolts out, “Charlie that,” her left hand jolts out, “Who the bleep is Maxwell?” Her right hand rises tipping an invisible scale.

“I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I bet it wasn’t.” She mumbles before spinning on her heel toward the door. She abruptly stops. “Did I mention he’s stopping by today?”

“No. You didn’t. You were too busy praising Maxwell.”

“Thats right. Dave stopping today.” She flashes me a smile and walks out the door, leaving me to settle my nerves.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. With each minute that passes my anxiety titters on the edge of a fictional cliff. Tiny pebbles crumble beneath my sanity just waiting to plummet.

A soft knock sounds on my door hours later, causing my insides to turn, but to my dismay Morgan enters the office. “I just wanted to let you know Dave’s here to see you now.” She walks up to the corner of my desk and leans against it. “Oh, let me fix your scarf.” She walks right up to me and tugs at the fabric that’s wrapped around my neck.

Panic rises and I can feel the flush of redness creep up my face. What’s she going to say when she sees a second set of puncture marks hidden under there? I can’t say I went to a dermatologist again considering I wasn’t even home and was supposed to be on a business trip…not like she already caught me in that lie, but still.

“Is this new? I’ve never seen you wear it before. In fact, I’ve never really seen you wear any scarves.”

“Yeah, I’m not really a scarf person,” until now, I think to myself, “but, I saw it lying in my closet this morning and thought what the hell.”

Once her hands drop from the fabric. She just smiles at me and relief washes over me when no words come out her mouth.

She only says something when she at the door. “I’ll send him in.”

A sigh of liberation rushes out of my mouth after I hear her receding footsteps. If she did see the new set of teeth marks Maxwell left behind, she didn’t pry the subject, which is weird for Morgan, but right now I’m very grateful for the silence.

Except that problem passes only to be followed by another. Dave enters my office and shuts the door aggressively. One would jump at the gesture, but I’ve been waiting for it to occur for several hours now. Once I actually make eye contact with him, I can tell he looks tired and stressed. For what reason is beyond me.

“Why didn’t you call? Hell, even text me when you got back?”

Here we go. “Dave, we’re friends, right? After everything we’ve been through together, we’re still friends. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t call or text Juliet either.”

“You contacted Morgan.”

“I texted Morgan, because she’s a direct employee of mine. My absence is her responsibility. She has to open and close the shop, not to mention she has to take care of all the events that I miss. You, on the other hand, have nothing to do with this place anymore.”

“Well, until you go on a trip with some stranger then I have to run it.”

That’s a bit of an exaggeration. “We all know what this is about. Fifty text messages, Dave, come on.”

“I don’t like him, Charlie.”

“It’s not your choice. And you’ve never met him, so those words mean nothing to me. If you’re going to stand here and lecture me, you can go. Now.” There’s no way I’m going to get stuck in this conversation. I’m not going to stand back and allow another man to try to conquer my life, especially when this one already had a chance.

“I think I do have a say.”

“Really, Dave, how do you figure? You expressed your feelings for me only to then start dating a client of mine behind my back? That doesn’t sound like a person who deserves a say in anything.” If he thinks I’m going to forget him telling me how spectacular I am and then totally ditch me to sleep with some rich bratty girl, he’s extremely mistaken.

“I learned my lesson, you know that. I begged for forgiveness for months.” His freckled suntanned hand slides through his sandy-blond hair in regret. Regret at the time he didn’t seem to have.

“Only after months went by without a word. And that so called begging for forgiveness only came after that rich bitch realized she didn’t want to date a construction worker. I think you are just learning your lesson now, because you realize someone else wants what you can’t have. What you already had, but didn’t want. Now if you don’t mind I have work to do.”

“You still owe me a date. I don’t care if we’re at a crossroads right now, but I helped Morgan out when I could have said no. The deal was a date and this Friday you will accompany me at Junction 22.”

I can tell he means business and no matter how much I fuss there’s no getting out of this.

He takes my silence as submission. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” Without anything further to say, he leaves.

“Well, that went great.” I mutter to myself as I aimlessly shuffle papers.

I hear Morgan tell him goodbye, but I don’t hear a response back. It was awkward and extremely uncomfortable for the both of us to admit our pasts involving each other, but it had to be done. I looked past his heartless actions years ago, remaining his friend to prove to him as well as myself that I’m the bigger person, and it still looks like I am.