Chapter 7: Unsavory Things

I could still feel Faith's tight hug that she gave me before she walked out the door on Sunday evening. Normally, we wouldn't see each other until Monday evening when she would be ready to go to work, but I told her I wouldn't be around. She didn't embrace me only because she wasn't going to see me, but she pulled me close because of where I was going to go.

I thought that when I told her that I was going back I thought she would open her mouth to rip me to shreds.

"Why would you go back there?! Why would you put yourself through all of that again? Months of trying to get over this have gone to waste! You're a fucking idiot!"

But she didn't. She narrowed her eyes and examined my tight face after the last word came out of my mouth, and then she pulled me close and said, "Good luck."

Good luck, good luck.

I needed it all when I left the underground of the train and stepped foot back into the Business District. I was supposed to be huddled on the blue leather couch, remotely working on troubleshooting errors that were sent to me on a regular basis. But took time off to return to an old job, an old building. I was returning to old memories.

Yet, when I saw the floors of Leoné Investments, I wasn't as shook as expected. It was hard to be when I knew someone was missing inside of it.

Chris jumped up from his desk and opened the door. He frantically gestured for me to come in and sit with a smile. He hadn't said a word to me yet, seeing as to how two voices were echoing from the landline on his desk. Chris stretched his long legs back to his desk and stared at the phone with lifeless eyes.

"Conference call," he mouthed before crossing his eyes and pecking his fingers over his keyboard to take notes.

I returned a fragment of a smile, but it left as soon as I heard a familiar voice on the line. I didn't hear the man too many times in my life, but I could never forget the last encounter. The investor on the phone, was complaining to Chauvin. I remember the stain his spit left behind on Ezra when I last saw his face. It made me ill to think that a person like him continued to exist. He was trash– a racist piece of living garbage.

"Where is Ezra? Why am I talking to you?" the investor spat over the line.

My anger subsided for a moment; I was waiting to hear the answer.

"He is on vacation. Eh, he should be back by next week," Chauvin took his time to return.

Promptly, my wide eyes pulled from the phone and to Chris who already had his sights set on me. Chris vacantly shook his head to me, signifying that what Chauvin said was lie.

Minutes later, the call came to a close with Chauvin indirectly including the third-party, "You will have your information sent to you by my assistant. I promise there is nothing to worry about. You needed to speak to someone in charge and you got a hold of me. Contact me directly when you want to speak about your account. I sure whatever issues you have, I can resolve, okay?"

Chris cut his line and exhaled a great amount of breath before saying, "So... as you can see. I am his 'assistant'."

"He doesn't know your name," I grumbled.

"Actually he knows it, but when I repeated it he said 'assistant' rolls off the tongue easier," Chris growled. "By the way, Renee is 'Legs' to him."

"Legs? As in, he doesn't use her name and calls her... 'Legs'?" I asked with a tilt of the head.

"Mhm, and I have to say that Ezra was only ever difficult to work with only because you couldn't tell what he was thinking until he said it. He was never a full on tyrant like this old shit and pals. Well, let me not forget the one time he was clearly jealous of how much time you and I were spending together when you started working here," Chris winked at the end.

Strangely, his comment didn't make me feel weird at all. My stomach did turn, but only from the reveal of Chris confessing a truth of the past. It did feel a little odd knowing that Chris and Renee knew for so long. But then it wasn't so bad, it meant I had less to explain.

However, there was something else that did need explaining.

"Chris, have Chauvin and... Lebleu essentially taken over?" I asked with disgust.

Chris nodded, but then added, "And... she has also become a more stalwart presence."

I felt sick, but I had to know, "Is she here, right now?"

Chris paused and scratched the back of his neck.

"Chris, it's okay," I reassured him, though I was gripping my hands together with all of my might.

"Ada, I want to say you don't have to do this... but I know I would have to too," Chris sighed.

I'm glad Chris didn't stop me from entering the elevator; I had put away so much of my pride to return. I had to do it if I didn't want to have these worries eating away at my head, night after night.

The elevator doors parted, and there was the familiar painting. The supremacy of it. The piece was always fitting for this floor until the harsh green in Ezra's eyes calmed enough to come down to my level. When I thought we finally could understand one another. When I thought we were finally able to communicate. Those feelings were so overwhelmingly strong. I could have also said that the feelings were overpowering.

Maybe the authority of this painting has always applied.

But now there was different influence on the floor, and I could feel it the moment I tore my eyes from the canvas on the wall. My feet were moving without much effort. From the distance, I could see the light in his office, and though there was still much to say between us, I just wanted to see him sitting in his chair. I wanted to see him looking at his computer screen, typing away or even holding the phone to his ear as he scowled at the information sifting into his ear.

I want to know where you are.

Yet, of course, life wouldn't be this easy for me. I knew he wouldn't be there, but I didn't expect to see Genevieve sitting in his office chair tapping away on her cellphone. I tilted my head back, as the anger boiled back to the surface. Remembering the last time that I saw her face bore an irrational distaste of her presence.

Or is it rational?

I lifted a balled hand and struck my knuckles one time against the door. Startled, she lifted her eyes from the small screen and narrowed her eyes. In all of her movements, she was a sultry creature. Even the way she allowed her phone to slide from her hand on the desk was smooth. A grin crept on to her face, but mine remained unchanged.

She stood up from his chair and ran her hands over her knee-length, fitted dress. Her sky-high pumps should have posed uncomfortable for most feet, but she glided to the door as though she was barefooted.

That confident walk.

We watched each other carefully through the slender office window. When she gripped the door's knob, she paused for a moment and let her eyes scan my frame. As I expected she wasn't pleased, the grin on her face never subsided.

Finally, she opened the door and crooned with her strong accent, "What a pleasant surprise."

I had nothing to say, my lips couldn't part to say a word. I wasn't speechless, I simply didn't know what phrase would be good for a wretch like her. There were too many good ones to choose from.

Never pulling her eyes from me, Genevieve turned her head to the side before fluidly turning on her heels. Sashaying back to the desk, she threw her limp hand to her side and asked, "Are you wondering where he is?"

I finally found something appropriate to say, "Yes."

She quickly turned back to me, amusement on her face. Suddenly, her brows were high and she began a slow eruption of laughter.

"Why are you cackling? I muttered, still far from amused.

"Because... you petulant wench... I thought that he was with you all these months."

Petulant... wench... Jesus, help me.

I ignored her graceless remarks about me, "So you don't know where your fiancé is?"

"No, I figured that after such a glamorous night at the award ceremony that he fled the venue to be with you. But I found him hours later, sulking in his apartment." Her smile faded, and she rolled her head back cracking her neck.

Genevieve tapped her shapely chin, "You know, he has always been so sensitive about you since you first arrived?"

"Yes. So. That doesn't change that fact that it seems that neither one of us knows where he is," I reminded her.

She frowned. "Well, now it's frustrating for me, because he's not been with his whore all along like I thought."

I closed my eyes and bit down on my lower lip to keep it together. My self-control only held for a few seconds before I disclosed, "You're a fucking liar. You've got nothing better to do with your time, so I know you've had people watching me. You knew he wasn't with me... you've just been waiting to insult me for a long time."

"Hmm, you are smart, like he said. Or what do they call it... intuitive. Let me test your brain, Ada Young. Can you guess the last time that Ezra was between my legs?"

I swallowed hard. The sickness hit me in an instant, and I was at a loss of words again.

"Hmm?" she pushed.

"No," I grumbled.

"He was a stiff man, but was quite the lover," she smiled. "But you know that already."

"You speak as though he's dead," I remarked.

"He should be dead to you," she snipped. "But you're back here, looking for a man who has always belonged to me. And never... to you."

"I can't dispute that," I shrugged, though it was that very truth that has hurt me since that night.

"Good, and that is why I had accepted that if he was having fun with you that he could have it with his little exotic toy," she said through her teeth.

I cropped my head at an angle, "For someone who had come to terms with their man potentially playing with someone else... you seem angry about it."

Her remark was calm, "Who wouldn't wonder why he would want to play with waste? But then again, men have their strange desires. Inquisitive creatures they are– wanting to taste a little bit of everything that comes their way."

"So you've never trusted him?" I questioned.

"I did trust him, but when you came along we were at a rift. What man wouldn't pour his affections into someone that would make herself so easy," she groaned, gesturing dismissal with her hand.

"The job listing, said 'intern for an investment company'. Not 'therapeutic whore'," I corrected with a lifted brow.

Genevieve snapped, "We are women, we can multitask."

Angry, I spat, "So what were you? President and the notoriously hidden fiancée?"

I could see her eye twitching from afar, so I continued, "You know he never hinted that you two had a personal relationship ever since I joined Leoné Investments?"

"He was a professional," she quickly returned. "Don't be so quick to be proud of yourself. He clearly kept us hidden from one another."

"Yes, yes he did," I smiled, but not for her.

He sure did.

"But you thought you loved him," she smirked.

I shrugged, as I decided to look around his office and soak in old memories.

"Ah, remembering all the places he fucked you in this office?" she crudely interrupted.

I turned my eyes back to her and looked at the glimmering rock that she flaunted as she scratched her chin.

We were intimate here, but only once and never that far.

"Since I was his whore, you can assume that I was had anywhere he liked," I bluntly answered.

It was obvious that she didn't take kindly to the response, though that was at her own risk. But she was crafty. She was good at reflecting her discomfort.

"How many times, Ada Young? 1? 5? 6?"she recklessly guessed.

"Why does it matter to you?" I shot back.

Her eyes fluttered around, looking everywhere but at me.

"Why?" I demanded again.

Abruptly, a mischievous smirk appeared on her face and she began, "The last time I felt Ezra inside of me was incredible. In our language he only said a few words, to pluck me from my office and take me home. I knew he wanted me. His fingers tangled into my hair before he made me his. Throughout the night, he told me he loved me. Over and over again did he show me as well."

The sharp words had cut deep, but I couldn't help the smile that grew and lingered on my face. "That's a beautiful memory. But remember Genevieve... don't be so quick to be proud of yourself. He clearly kept us hidden from one another."

With my last words, I was finished with the conversation. I turned around, done with being insulted and dealing with her. Though, I should have known that she wouldn't ever let my departure set sail without her finishing touch.

"You are quite the peculiar slut, Ada Young. You can run away, like our dear Ezra. But you should look back twice... just to be on the safe side," she finished with cold eyes.

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Number of hidden songs: 1