Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2) (27 page)

Brian left
following a quiet dinner on Sunday night. While I appreciated the separation in
order to mentally prepare for tomorrow’s meeting, I missed his company
immediately. And that was the problem with spending so much time together
lately. Maybe it would be good to get back into our two-week routine.

I puttered
around my condo, getting my laundry done and prepping my
approved
outfit
for the next day. The routine reminded me of high school. Setting out my
clothes the night before and talking myself into why I needed to go the next
day.

I suppose I should
be grateful there hadn’t been social media back then; otherwise, I could’ve
counted on a YouTube video or Facebook status to complete my humiliation on
that terrible day my junior year in high school. It had been bad enough that
the majority of my class had witnessed it in person.

My living
nightmare, the one that had started my everyday battle with an anxiety
disorder, started on a beautiful spring day, one like any other in April. Most
of my class was eating lunch outside. A homeless-looking woman approached the
table. My heart beat faster when I realized that beneath the filth, her eyes
looked like mine. She knew my name. When I asked what she wanted, she demanded
money. I whispered I didn’t have any, and she lost it. She began screaming at
me that I was her daughter and that my adoptive parents hadn’t given her the
money she deserved.

I completely
shut down in the form of my first official panic attack. My father arrived with
the paramedics to find me on the ground gasping for breath. When he’d taken me
to the hospital, it was the first and only time I’d ever seen him cry.

At sixteen years
old, I’d found out my entire life up until that point had been a lie. By not
telling me the truth, my adopted parents had allowed a drug addicted stranger
to destroy the world I’d always known. Betrayed by the people I’d trusted the
most, my relationship with my adoptive parents had taken a while to repair. As
I’d gotten older, I’d learned to forgive and finally accept that they’d
believed they’d been protecting me. But the bitter lesson of what a lie of
omission could do would never leave me. After that first panic attack, striving
to remain unaffected while those around me whispered and worried had become a coping
mechanism to get through each day. People mistook my introverted personality
for snobbery, but finally, I’d gotten to an age where I cared less about that. Addison
may have accused me of thinking I was too good for my small town, but the truth
was that I’d always felt lacking.

Thinking of home
reminded me I needed to call my sister. She’d left a voicemail on Friday regarding
my parents’ upcoming anniversary party. Evidently my return email hadn’t been good
enough for her because she kept calling. Rolling my neck to ease the tension, I
figured now was as good a time as any.

The phone rang three
times, and I started to get my hopes up for voicemail. Ironic to call someone
and hope not to speak to them, but it was typically a relief for me to hear a
recording rather than to reach a live person. Voicemails could be easily
controlled, but conversations were dynamic and subject to go to shit in a
second. Sighing when her chipper voice said hello, I bit my lip and prayed for
patience.

“Hi, Addison. It’s
Sasha.”

“About damn
time. I’ve left you, like, five messages,” her response came.

It was all I
could do not to point out it had only been two and that it was interesting how
she had no problem leaving a message when it came to something she wanted, but
had difficulty when it came to leaving an apology about Christmas. Yeah, maybe
I still harbored a small grudge months later. “I was out of town. What did you
need that an email wouldn’t have answered?”

“I wanted to
talk to you in person. You know the party’s the weekend after next. I realize
you paid your half, but it would be nice if you took an actual interest, too.”

Dammit, why did
I feel guilty, and how the hell had the date snuck up on me? “It’s not that I’m
not interested, it’s that I know you have all of the details covered.” Of
course there was the fact that one could only deal with so much passive
aggressiveness in one day.

“Something tells
me you’re still angry with me about what happened over Christmas.” Her voice
sounded vulnerable, which was out of character.

I breathed
deeply, not wanting to get into that now. It still hurt too much, and frankly,
it would go a long way if she could have started out that sentence with
I’m
sorry
instead of implying I was angry for no reason. “Is there anything I
can do to help on Friday or Saturday?” Emotionally, this was all I could offer
at the moment.

“Could you to
pick up the cake that Saturday morning? I’ll send you the woman’s address. I
don’t know why Dad insists on getting it from her, but Mom says it’s the only
cake he’ll eat. Anyways, it needs to be there one hour before the party
starts.”

I wanted to ask
why it had to be an hour exactly, but kept my mouth shut. “Okay, got it. See
you in two weeks.”

“See you then. Remember,
one hour before.”

I clicked off
the phone and poured a large glass of wine. It was as close as I could get to
relaxing.

***

Arriving at work
early the next morning, I fully intended to make the most of the extra time
before my meeting with Vanessa. On this occasion, she was coming to our office
location. I’d recruited Logan and Charlie for the assist. Not only would she
enjoy the male attention, but I could use the reinforcements. I was dressed in
a crisp blank pantsuit with conservative heels and a white shirt. Conservative,
professional, and boring, as instructed. I was about to head into the
conference room to ensure everything was set up, when Nancy’s voice cut through
on the intercom.

“Ms. Brooks,
there’s an attorney on the line who says he needs to speak with you. His name
is Michael Frank.”

“I don’t recognize
that name, Nancy. Can you get his number and ask him what it’s regarding? I’ll
call him back.” The last thing I needed was to be tied up before an important
meeting with a solicitation call.

“Certainly.”

She came in a
short time later with the note while I was gathering all of my presentation
materials.

My eyes glanced
at her face, and I was immediately on guard. Nancy never looked nervous. Two
years away from retiring, she was a battle-ax from the days of smoking and
perforated printer paper in the office place. She’d softened toward me some
after the throwing-up incident in the office but always held herself cool and
reserved.

Looking at the message,
my face drained of color. In her perfect handwriting was:

“Michael Frank, attorney
for your mother. Need to talk ASAP about rehab center.”

“Sasha, I hope
you know I keep everything in confidence.”

I swallowed
hard. “Thank you, Nancy.” And because I didn’t want to appear a horrible human
being when Michael Frank rang back, since I had no intention of returning his
call, I decided to be blunt with my assistant. “She’s my birth mother. I’ve
only seen her once in my life, and it didn’t go well. They’re looking for money
again, I’m sure.”

She nodded.
“Then I’ll be certain to screen all of your calls carefully and won’t pass on
any more messages from Mr. Frank.”

“I appreciate
that, Nancy.” After she left, I crumpled up the note and threw it away. Maybe
I’d jinxed this invitation back into my life when I’d been thinking about her
yesterday. Or perhaps the timing served as a reminder that the only reason my
biological mother ever looked me up was when she needed money. I’d already made
that mistake once. I wouldn’t repeat it. With Vanessa coming into my office any
moment, I couldn’t afford the distraction.

***

I needed a
moment before heading into the conference room to put the call out of my head
and prep. Time to slip in my earbuds. Thankfully, meetings didn’t make me throw
up, but I still needed the calm of a motivating song to get me into the right
frame of mind. Today’s choice was Kelly Clarkson’s Invincible. I closed my eyes,
let the song end, and breathed deeply. I could do this.

After walking
into the conference room, I ensured everything was ready, including the
projector and handouts. Logan and Charlie came in ready for the meeting.

Brian strolled
in a couple minutes later, greeting both men. He then turned toward me. “Sasha,
nice to see you. Do you have a minute before Vanessa arrives?”

“Uh, okay,” I
murmured, wondering what he had on his mind.

We turned the
corner toward my office, and I could feel his eyes on me.

“Everything
okay?” Brian asked.

I bit my lip.
Now wasn’t the time to tell him about the phone call. “I’ll, um, tell you
later.”

He nodded, and
we went inside my office, only to have Nancy buzz right away announcing
Vanessa’s early arrival.

Turning toward
Brian, I asked, “Do you mind bringing her back to the conference room? I know
she feels most comfortable with you.”

He looked
surprised. “No. I don’t mind. We can talk afterwards.”

Look at me, a
poster child for a fucking work in progress, trying to defer to what the client
would want instead of attempting to mark my territory. I was determined to make
today successful and not above asking for help to ensure it happened. Whatever
he’d wanted to talk about could wait.

I returned to
the conference room in time to greet Vanessa warmly when Brian showed her in.

She was dressed
in a red-colored top that stretched across her chest, putting impressive
implants on display. I had to keep myself from looking further down to her
skirt or shoes. The client could dress in hooker boots and a thong, and I
needed to pretend like it was normal. Her smile didn’t touch her eyes, but I
wouldn’t let it faze me.

“You remember
Logan and Charlie from the initial presentation?” I said.

“Yes, nice to
see you gentlemen. Sasha, whatever do you do with yourself, surrounded by such
nice-looking men?”

It was tempting
to say something outrageously snarky and inappropriate, but instead I merely
smiled. “The world of advertising does have its perks.”

“I’m definitely
in the wrong business, then.” She took a seat, and Nancy graciously offered her
a beverage.

She glanced
toward my assistant. “Tea with milk. Skim, if you have it, with two sugars—but
only if it’s real sugar. I don’t want the fake stuff. If you don’t have skim,
then don’t bother. You can get me water instead, but only if it’s purified.”

Nancy smiled
tightly. I was relieved that I wasn’t the only one rubbed the wrong way by
Vanessa. Evidently, she had a talent for pissing off any female within a ten-foot
radius. “Now, then, I think you’ll be very pleased with our phase one
approach,” I started out.

She raised her brow.
“I think that remains to be seen.”

Taking a page
from Catherine, I ignored the poisonous dart and flipped on the projector.
Logan got the lights while giving me a
she’s a piece of work
look.

Thirty minutes
later, Vanessa had oohed and aahed over everything Brian, Logan, and Charlie
had presented but gave me the third degree over my ideas regarding radio
advertising. It was ironic as almost all of the ideas introduced had been mine;
only those presented by me had set her off.

“I’m not
convinced that radio would be the wisest use of our money,” she contemplated,
tapping her pencil and then sipping her tea.

I bit my cheek,
praying for patience. “Certainly, it’s your decision, and you can think it over.
But our research shows that a Sunday countdown show would do great with your
targeted demographic. The cost is exceptionally low compared to the television
spots.”

Brian backed me
all the way. “I think it’s worth a couple of them, Vanessa, but like Sasha
said, it’s your call.”

“Who am I to
argue with your logic, Brian?” Vanessa stood up, looking at her watch. “I’ve
got a flight to catch. But thanks again for the drink last night and safe
travels this week. I’ve never been to Dubai. Hopefully, you’ll get some time to
explore.”

Thankfully, my
face was hidden from view as I’d gotten up to get the lights. I took several
shallow breaths, wishing I could give the band a snap without anyone noticing.
So he’d left my place to have a drink with Vanessa, and this is how I found out
he was traveling to Dubai this week. I’d asked him not to hide shit like this
from me, and yet he’d chosen to ignore that request.

Tamping down my
temper, I turned toward Vanessa. I didn’t catch his reply to her but needed to
get my niceties out of the way.

“Safe travels. I’ll
be in touch later this week to give you details on the photo shoots.” I smiled,
hoping it was convincing. I didn’t dare glance toward Brian.

“Sounds good.
Logan, Charlie, thanks for your time on this. Good work,” she complimented.

Oh, sure, the
boys got the credit.