The Mistress (11 page)

It was then though that her descent ended and her feet touched a concrete surface. As if summoned by her questioning, flustered mind, Preston appeared with a light shining harshly in her face. Smacking the flashlight away from her eyes, she spoke to him. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she grumbled.

He turned and she followed his shadowy body across the tomb-like concrete room. “You ready?” he asked. She was confused.
Ready for what, exactly?
They were amidst darkness. And only darkness. There was a hint of a chocolate smell in the air, but she couldn’t place where it was coming from – or why she smelled it beneath the ground.

And then she saw him bend down, and suddenly the entire shelter was lit by strung up Christmas lights. She couldn’t help but let out a whispered “wow” as she looked at the long corridors all decorated with lights. Beyond them, only ten feet away, was a picnic blanket with loads of silk pillows scattered about; all of this was displayed around two metallic vesicles, each with candles burning beneath it.

She felt a soothingly warm presence around her hand; he had interlaced his fingers with hers as she looked at the sight before her. There were rose petals surrounding the blanketed pallet on the floor; they were scattered intentionally in swirly loops all around. She couldn’t believe it. Gorgeous, intelligent,
and
romantic.

She remembered that in their many discussions, they had fallen on topics of romance. Haley had always thought of his gestures as simple ploys to bed women when he was younger. When he married Marissa, though, they had grown into gestures in the name of forgiveness of misdirection. She had never thought of him as truly romantic, and even now she wondered what his ultimate goal was.

Deciding not to dwell on it for too much longer, she stepped towards the metal vesicles to peer inside. One cheese. One chocolate. They steamed beautifully within their respective pots. “Entrée, and dessert,” he whispered with a bit of a shy undertone present.

She sat down, excitedly, folding her legs beneath her in an Indian-style position. He followed suit and sifted through the mounds of pillow to unveil a bucket of ice, which he had seemed to hide for effect. The bucket held an expensive looking bottle of wine, something that Haley personally would never be able to afford.

It had already been uncorked and set out to breathe, she assumed. “A glass of wine, madam?” he asked whilst expressing a strong faux British butler accent. She giggled; they hated to admit it – but he and Lucas
were
very similar. “You know, Lucas does that,” she replied, still laughing, before reaching for one of the glasses that she discovered lying between them, halfway buried in the blankets.
Thank God she didn’t sit on that.

He looked at her, pretending to be unamused before snatching the glass from her hand – once again in a dramatic fashion – and filling it to the rim. “Whoa, easy there, tiger. We can’t have you taking advantage of me. We’re in the middle of an abandoned field,” she joked, watching his full lips curve into his signature smirk. “You know, I have noticed something about you,” she continued.

“Oh, really? Do tell.” He continued smirking, grabbing the remaining glass and filling it halfway.

“You’re quite the drama queen. You always make a big production out of your actions. Now, this isn’t the only example, but take this date for an easy illustration: you’ve driven me to an abandoned field, had to go all out decorating some crazy concrete tomb, complete with fondue, wine – for what? To look like a scene out of a movie! I would have been fine with dinner and a movie, dude.” She really couldn’t believe how honest her words were spewing out.

He smiled, put down his glass, and leaned forward. He looked like he was contemplating life’s greatest mystery, and on the brink of revealing it all to her. “Well,” he began, his hands forming together and pointing directionally at her. “The field isn’t abandoned. It’s actually where I grew up.” He grabbed his wine glass and brought it to his nose and sniffed in the aroma pleasantly. “The dramatics, my dear, are what make every life unique. So why not venture into the unknown, create memories?” His voice was low and direct. He took a small sip of the wine, and holding the rim to his lips, he whispered, “And take a sip of something extraordinary?”

“What the hell does that even mean,” she giggled, falling backwards, and rubbed her head between two pillows.

“I just thought it sounded good... Thought I sounded refined,” he replied, his body suddenly crawling beside her. She turned to face him. His body bent in perfect unison with hers and heated her throughout. He threw an arm over her to hold her close. She accepted, snuggling against him.

“Is this really where you grew up?” she asked, sincerely. He paused and looked down, a redness creeping to his cheeks. She couldn’t pinpoint the emotion, but it seemed to be that of shame.

“It is...” he trailed. “I grew up on the farm about two miles north of here.”

She couldn’t understand why he would be ashamed of that. His family lived in the city, as far as she knew, and she had just assumed he had lived there his entire life. It didn’t change anything though; if anything, it made him more interesting. He wasn’t a spoiled city brat like she initially thought after all.

“My grandfather owns this land. This concrete tomb, as you so lovingly stated, is actually a fallout shelter, which I am sure you are aware. He never comes out here, so I thought that I would borrow it for the evening. The reason for the dramatics in this case is just sincerity. I wanted to do something special for you. That’s all. Now, in other cases, my dramatics are viewed – by my therapist at least – as a defense mechanism. Whatever that means.”

They ate; they talked; they laughed. She felt her emotions rotate with greatness as they just enjoyed each other’s company. This night reminded her lot of their discussions as friends, open and without judgment. She had felt – for many years – that she could be honest with him and he, in return, be honest with her. What she feared the most about this affair was that she thought she had lost that aspect of their relationship.

She loved the family, and she worried for the inevitable moment that she would have to choose between him and them as a whole. But, that wasn’t what she most feared. She feared losing him. She hoped, quite selfishly, that no matter what seemed to occur between them, at the very least they would remain friends. It would be a shame otherwise.

He talked about his job, and his hopes and fears regarding it. Well, mostly fears. There was hardly hopefulness in his wording, or in his tone for that matter. Haley was overrun by muddled thoughts. When she first met Preston his job was his life. He was focused on being the best of the best, and nothing could stop him or bring him down from the high that he felt every time his work was so much as even mentioned.

But that Preston seemed to be missing in action, at the moment. Instead, he spoke of negativity. “I’m getting this promotion, but I’m not really sure I want it...” he trailed. His head was down, and he looked at his fiddling hands. She watched him longingly, and sensing her misunderstanding, he continued, “I love business. I love making sales, and I love making money, but after so many years of working and missing out on so many things, I’m not sure it’s all worth it. Lucas is going to be a teenager soon, and I honestly couldn’t tell you the first thing about his personality. Sophie is gaining on age too – and all I know is she’s too old for a car seat now. When did all of this happen? I looked into the mirror a few months ago and I was no longer twenty-four years old. Is this promotion going to be worth it?”

“I have something for you,” she mustered up the courage to say as she reached out her arm to find the charm bracelet which dangled across her wrist. With a small amount of concentration and a whole lot of jingling of the silver clasp, she finally took it off. She fingered through the charms and finally removed one. A teddy bear.

“It’ll look beautiful on me,” he joked as she handed him the small silver bead.

“No, jackass. I’m giving it to you because it was my mother’s. I’m not giving it to you forever. It’s just to give you luck until you figure things out. Then, I want you to do me a favor.”

“Anything,” he whispered sweetly.

“Give it to Sophie. When she’s old enough,” she responded, a slight tear glistening in her eye.

“Give it to her yourself...” he trailed off, but was soon interrupted by her soft but direct rebuttal.

“We both know that I won’t be around when she’s older... We both know where this leads, and it’s nowhere. It can’t. You have a family – and guess what? It’s
my family, too.
How can you expect anyone to ever look at me again when they find out? And if they don’t – then what? I’m your
mistress
forever? Because we can’t just call it off now. I love you, you idiot. We have already crossed the point of no return. There’s no acting like it didn’t happen. It’s happened three times – and if you count this date – four.”

She was full on sobbing now. She knew it was all inevitable, the chaotic destruction of their lives as they knew them. She didn’t know how the cards would all fall just yet, but she knew that when they did – they wouldn’t be good. There was no winning this hand.

He sat up and pulled her with him. He grasped at her with everything he had, and she did the same. They held each other as she continued to cry the heaviest tears that she ever seemed to cry before; they were heavy with the burdening sadness that she felt with just the mention of losing the only family she had known for so many years.

~~~

“C
’mon, we’ve been standing here for twenty minutes!” a male sounded throughout the crowded downtown bakery, his Bostonian roots prevalent in his speech as well as his demeanor. Spaces were nonexistent between bodies, as an uncountable amount of people swarmed the bakery’s ordering counter. People were everywhere and in no recognizable order. They were lined up at the beginning beside the register, but that small bit of order soon disappeared. People were crowded in between booths and tables, shoving against one another with every second that went by. No one could have left if they had wanted to. At least, not without having bumped into several bodies on the way.

“Thanks, have a great day!” Marissa yelled in a friendly manner, handing the scone to the first customer in line. “Where is Rachel?” she yelled to Joseph, who was rattling every pan in the kitchen. She breathed out in annoyance, her fears of losing it catching up to her.

She was losing her composure. Fast. She was used to busy days, but this was ridiculous. She didn’t really know why everyone and their mother seemed to pack in that morning like sardines in a can. Part of her was joyous, but a stronger part of her was stressed beyond every reality.

The Bostonian man reached the counter and began rattling off a large order. The frustration in his voice sounded through as he screamed over the lively crowd, and she could barely understand him. It wasn’t his accent that detoured her understanding, but rather the fact that he was incoherently screaming at her.

She asked him calmly to slow down, and then it was over. His rationale had left completely. He began to swear at her. Marissa wasn’t typically an emotional woman, but she felt her throat tighten as tears threatened to flow. Blame it on the stress, blame it on the crowd, blame the man if you will, but regardless, she was close to losing her equanimity.

Perhaps it was the man’s voice that bellowed through the shop and echoed to every crevice, or perhaps it was just intuition, but the next thing she knew Joseph had appeared. “I’ll take it from here,” he whispered, placing a caring hand on her shoulder. “What was your order, sir?” he asked the man, turning away from her.

She didn’t bother sticking around to listen. She walked away, which was at this very moment her best attempt at controlling her nerves and relaxing a bit. Flinging open the kitchen door, she took a deep breath, relieved that she was now divided by the chaos of the shop.

“Thank you, Joseph...” she breathed.

She wondered where her third set of hands was. Rachel. She worked most days with Marissa and was never late, so her absence was slightly worrisome, indeed. She began to make her way through the kitchen to the back office, ready to make a phone call to check in. A crash sounded suddenly the back exit, and there she was.

The full-bodied, voluptuous woman was quite a bit larger than Marissa, but in all other accounts she looked identical. Same flowing blonde hair, same blue eyes, same thick lips, and same pale skin. She was by all accounts, a perfect lookalike. But she supposed that made sense; they
were
sisters, after all.

“Sorry I’m late!” She was direct and hurried, grabbing her apron out of her over-sized tote quickly. She tossed the tote on the floor beside the exit door and threw on her apron before Marissa could even formulate words.

“I saw the line from the front, and I know – I know I’m the worst sister and employee ever! Hell, even Joseph is here! But I’m on it. I’ll get to baking!” She was almost panicked. Her mouth was running a mile a minute, and Marissa’s lips had opened and shut several times just trying to respond, but with every word Rachel spoke she realized it was unnecessary. Rachel was punishing herself more than she could ever punish her. So, shutting her mouth tightly, she let Rachel continue her apologetic rant.

“I woke up late this morning, and then that guy I’ve been telling you about texted me and asked to see me – and you know we’ve been hitting it off really well lately,” she began, completely frantic, “and I didn’t want to disappoint him...” she continued, trailing off, her guilt showing through.

“You’re fine, Rachel. Just get to work. And don’t let it happen again,” Marissa joked, extending her finger in a pointing fashion. She was feigning actually asserting the authority she had. No one took her seriously in that regard. They knew she couldn’t fire them. But they still respected her. They were the only two employees she had, besides herself, and they knew what that meant. It meant that they had to step up or she wouldn’t have to fire them. They would all be out of the job if they didn’t do their part.