Chapter One
"Yes, sir. Everything's ready."
Talking to my boss through the phone at this hour makes me feel uneasy. It's the busiest time of the year for our resort and tomorrow is going to be its 15th anniversary, plus new investors are coming in tonight. When Mr. Wilson has finally ended the call, I scurry out of my office to continue the preparation for our guests. I realize I forgot something! I told him earlier all have been set as planned, but I haven't seen yet the guests' dinner menu! Yes, yes, of course I know I'll be doomed if I won't be able to set things up properly, so here I am sending out instructions here and there, panting almost heavily.
The typical me: tense, clumsy, the favorite child of anxiety. I have that bad habit of thinking failure wins over success by 80 over 100 by default. Sounds pessimistic? Maybe. But to the advantage, it ignites my strong determination to push that 20% up against its rival by all means possible, to give the underdog a chance to be proclaimed a winner. Besides, that may have been the reason why I was immediately promoted as manager after being employed for only a year.
Even though my superior takes after one of the seven dwarfs, the one known as Grumpy because he's always ill-humored and grumpy, even a speck of dust in his coat makes him angry, I still enjoy my work. I get scolded a lot of times but I still love my job because it challenges me everyday--and helps me pay my bills, too!
Clock hits five in the afternoon and Wilson arrives with the guests at last. I've assigned a staff to usher them around the resort then back to the hotel where a sumptuous dinner awaits.
"Be sure to remind them to re-heat the food before they are served. I don't want any complaint from the guests and I'm sick of sticking my invisible earphones whenever Wilson reprimands my lack of responsibility." I tell Katie, one of the crew, to relay my instructions to the kitchen personnel, acting like a military commander sending orders to his soldiers. But she just grins knowing I'm just playing my role gracelessly.
"Yes, ma'am! And- you can borrow my earphones just in case. They're more experienced than yours." She giggles and runs as quick as a rabbit before I can slap her butt with the menu book I'm holding.
Katie and I have been good friends since I got hired at Washington Paradise Resort. She's been working in the resort for 5 years now; a dropout from college but she is incredibly smart and patient. I admire her bubbly attitude and how she handles Wilson's hot temper. She's my favorite blond in the planet!
When I got promoted, I became her boss and it was kind of awkward at first. Nevertheless, we remained friends.
I'm back in the office an hour later and our resort supervisor finds me busy with some reports. Julie Harrington is of African-American descent and always dresses to impress, that's according to me. Her pixie cut, hazel brown hair fits her heart-shaped face, and her long eyelashes complement her dark brown eyes. The 41-year old woman's ass-et is emphasized even more by her black bootcut pants matched with a white blouse under her three-quarter-sleeve blazer. She approaches and I instantly notice the black leather ankle boots she's wearing, making me feel unsure about my outfit for the day.
"The investors are here and Wilson wants us to sit with them during dinner." Julie's voice snaps me back to reality, taking my attention off of her shoes.
"Geez. You look really stressed, gal. Have you been worrying a lot?" She pats my back gently. I smile without turning to her, hitting the keys of my computer. I need to finish this goddamn spreadsheet before we leave.
"Why not try to relax sometimes? Loosen up a bit." She tells me. I glance at her for a while and nod.
"Come on! We shouldn't be late for dinner. I heard some of our guests are young and rich bachelors. You may find someone interesting." She taps my shoulder twice.
"Okay, okay." I hit the most abused CTRL+S keys five times before closing the application.
Julie grabs some stuff from her desk and walks to the door with her clicking heels. I stand up, arrange the pile of papers on the desk, and straighten the creases of my blouse.
"I'll be there in a couple of minutes; just need to fix my hair, you know. Oh, I might be in trouble in case I find someone interesting." We both laugh, aware that I already have a boyfriend and it won't do any good if I find someone interesting out there.
Julie leaves and closes the door. Right after that, I hurriedly handpick an emergency beauty kit from my bag and rush to the bathroom. Julie and I share the same office and it's really convenient having a private toilet-slash-powder room inside.
I apply light make-up; just a pink blush, crimson lipstick and it's done. My skin is already fair enough to put heavy foundation and I find myself ugly wearing those dark eye shadows around my semi deep-set eyes. I tie my long and wavy auburn hair in a low ponytail and gaze at myself in the mirror with contentment. I'm wearing a dark green, pencil skirt that goes two inches above my knees. I tuck in my sunny yellow, cold shoulder top for a smaller-waist illusion; it matches my knot-accent peep-toe lace stilettos. It's not the first time I'm meeting prospective investors but there's this strange vibe I'm feeling tonight.
Oh, well.
✦✦✦
Practicing the right smile—not to impress young bachelors I tell you, but to represent the company damn well—I make my way to the hotel's function room, the venue for the private dinner.
The hall, which can be occupied by up to a hundred heads, looks elegant even with minimal accents. A large chandelier made of seashells hangs from the center of its pointed, hardwood ceiling, matching the light sepia ambience of the place; the color that makes you look prettier on photos. Wilson didn't choose the venue because of that though. It's because of its outdoor balcony facing the beach, where you can hear the relaxing sound of waves as they rush in and out of the coast; something to show off our guests indeed!
Combinations of American and Japanese cuisines are served on the buffet table, including mouth-watering desserts like cheesecake, choco-vanilla mousse, and different flavors of ice-cream. I need to get myself away from this table or else...
Walking across the venue filled with sleepy, classic music, I see fifteen unfamiliar faces wearing formal, elegant suits. CEOs and investors aren't hard to identify from the flock with their dazzling attire and controlled, or shall I say expensive smile.
Julie waves at me to come and join them at a table. With natural poise, I walk towards them and choose the seat next to her. Wilson introduces me to the guests and I welcome them courteously. After insignificant chitchat, we move to the buffet.
"This is indeed a perfect place for vacation. We can add an indoor pool and entertainment lounge next year to attract more tourists. What'd you think?" I overhear one of the guests as I sit down with a plate of Chicken Teriyaki on my right hand and desserts on my left. They're talking about their future plans for the resort, as if they have already signed the contract. That's a good sign; I smile.
"I'm also thinking about that, Mr. Cheng. Maybe we can also have a little expansion." Our Chaiman answers.
They continue their discussion while I act as if paying attention to what they are saying. But I am not. It bores me--a lot. Unlike Julie who keeps participating in their conversations by giving humble suggestions and returning answers, I am merely nodding to who-knows-what-they-are-talking-about. I'm completely distracted. There is something off tonight. I don't know what though, or maybe I'm just exhausted from preparing everything since this morning.
Suppressing a yawn, a talent I've just unlocked tonight, I excuse myself and leave for the toilet. After relieving myself, I fish out my phone from my bag and dial Katie's digits. She picks up at the second ring.
"Hey! I thought you're in a business dinner. Is everything okay?" Katie's voice somewhat extinguishes my boredom.
"I'm fine, just need to take a break." My yawn escapes from prison. "Guess what? It's not dinner, it's an executive meeting. It's sickening hearing business people talk about work, work, work. Ugh, Katie. Can't we just talk of hilarious things and set aside work for a minute? These guys need a sack of humor." I groan.
Katie bursts into laughter. "You're funny! Stop sounding like a student complaining about her dreary professor. What kind of manager are you?"
I laugh hard as well, glad her joy is contagious. "It's not that I don't like listening to company matters. I just want to take a break from the real world."
"I know, Dale. Why don't you call Alden?"
My heart twists at that suggestion. I haven't received any message from my boyfriend in two days. That alone worries me and it hurts to feel forgotten. I trust his reasons though.
"He's on a business trip with his associates. I don't want to disturb him for now." I tell her.
"O...K." She breaks the minute of uncomfortable silence.
I suddenly realize I've been gone too long and Wilson might notice my absence.
"I should be back now. Thanks for the time, Katie." She says her goodbye and I end the call.
I face the mirror, untie my ponytail, and comb my hair with my fingers. I tie it back again and walk back to the function room.
✦✦✦
I can't wait for this meeting—no, dinner, remember? I can't wait for this dinner to end.
I'd rather be at an Opera or left on an isolated island with no internet, or maybe casted away in a jungle, than attending an event with these people. I wish some clown from a kiddie party gets lost and finds his way here. That'll be fun. I laugh at my imagination. I can't believe I'm this friggin crazy and desperate, I'm even cracking a joke to myself just to help my frustration.
"Hmm", Wilson clears his throat. My laugh may have been too loud? Of course, it's a helluva dinner. Without some music playing, you'll think you're in a cave with bats in business suits.
I feel embarrassed and uncomfortable on the instant, my pace becoming wobbly. Everyone's looking at me like I've grown ten heads and horns.
And then, a meter before the table, my feet involuntarily stop moving upon sighting a familiar creature sitting next to our Chairman.
Oh fuck. You've gotta be kidding me?
Rats start running inside my chest. I can even hear my own heartbeat. I shiver uncontrollably, my hands are now cold. Yet, I feel sweat dripping from random parts of my body.
That can't be him. What the hell is he doing here? Dammit.
My mouth opens and closes, opens and closes again. I can't decide what to say.
My vision darkens. I can't move.
I'm dying to turn my back around and leave as fast as I can, but it's all too late. Wilson calls my name.
"Ritchie. Where have you been? I would like you to meet someone." His voice sends goosebumps to my skin, scarier than all those Japanese horror films I've watched before.
Stay calm, I tell myself over and over. The last thing I want is for that creature to think highly of himself, knowing I'm uncomfortable with his presence. Worse, he may get the idea I have not moved on since we parted 6 years ago.
Yes, I knew him or I thought I knew him.
The way his bluish eyes used to look at me, the touch of his soft lips, the waves of his hair; all memories are becoming clear as water. Memories of him, of us—including his lies.
With all courage, I face them. Each of my steps feels edgy but I still manage to retain my poise. I look at Wilson forcing a smile and he stands up.
"Miss Ritchie, do you remember Kyle Daniels? He was sent here as proxy by one of our investors, Mr. Norris, because he couldn't make it. Daniels mentioned you two went to the same college."
I bit my lip. My fists are heating up.
Bastard.
He told them we knew each other?! What else did he tell them? That we were...
The jerk stands up then smiles at me.
He offers a hand shake that hangs in the air for a minute. "Been a long time, Dale. You still look smart and beautiful."
His steel blue eyes shine brightly with his sweetened smile. He still looks like when I last saw him except for his hair. The last time I saw it, it was longer and messy. It has changed. His brown hair is now darker and is cropped short around sides while slicked back over the ears, blending into the top, which is left long enough to be swept back. Although he looks more mature now, nobody can deny how striking this bastard is. He looks neat, professional, and I hate to admit it, but my heartbeat is getting faster and faster, especially now that he's staring at me like we're the only people here.
I can hear my pulse, the pumping of blood through my veins, circulating, reaching my face, which is now as red as wine.
No, Dale. Remember he's an asshole. I hear myself and it brings me back to reality.
I look at his hand, fighting the urge of ignoring it but then I decide to reach and squeeze it as hard as I can.
"Thank you. It's so nice to see you again, Daniels." As I add emphasis to the word, my eyes start to blaze and his smile fades.
