Getting by (A Knight's Tale)

GETTING BY

A
KNIGHT
’
S
TALE
#1

BY CLAUDIA BURGOA

PUBLISHED BY:

LITERALLY ALPACA ILLUSTRATIONS, LLC.

CENTENNIAL, CO 80111

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

©2014 Claudia Y. Burgoa

To Paulina

My traveling Buddy, best friend and amazing daughter.

Prologue

AS I AWOKE from my pleasant dream where the pretty auburn haired girl and I were tangled as one, I reached out to find her. I sprang up to search for her when I realized her side of the bed was empty.

“Morning, pretty girl,” I said, as I spotted her dressing in her running gear. I assumed we’d be going for a stroll in the city—or Central Park, but her serious face told me the opposite. “You ok?”

“I can’t anymore,” she said. Not a muscle moved in her face; not her steady green sad eyes or her dry face—she never cried. “Light and uncomplicated, we agreed. My life’s crazy at the moment, and I can’t add you into the mix.”

I’ve been in the mix for two freaking years, Emma.

I grabbed my boxer briefs from the floor, and scratched the base of my skull. My gut had told me something was wrong when I woke up alone. Ever since her grandfather’s accident she had become distant. I learned it was possible for her to detach even more. I regretted not flying to Connecticut and barging into the hospital to be next to her. It had been a mistake to give her space.

The self-reliant crap she announced on a daily basis was the thickest iron wall between the two of us. At the beginning it didn’t bother me, but after so many months of seeing Emma, I wanted to find a way to melt the metal and be closer to her.

“Jay, Emma’s grandfather is in the hospital,” Liam, my younger brother and one of her two bosses called me as soon as he found out. “She canceled a conference call and asked me to give her a few more hours to send me tomorrow’s presentation. Which in Emma’s language means it’s bad.”

Truth, Emma Anderson worked and breathed slogans, promotional material and even jingles for the advertising campaigns she created. If she set those aside, there had to have been something wrong with her—a matter of life and death—I dared to think.

“Emma,” I called her without thanking Liam. I was staggered to learn she had more family than the kinky lost sister. “Babe, Liam told me you’re in the hospital, do you need me?”

“Hi, Jake,” she said, after a long pause, with a cool voice, as if I asked how the weather was in New York. “Don’t be silly. Why would you come? He just got out of surgery—my grandfather—nothing complicated. But tell your brother not to worry, the presentation is almost ready and will be there in time.”

Work, her defense mechanism, came out before I could continue the conversation, and then as if I was a cheap telemarketer offering to switch her cellular plan, she hung up on me. I barely spoke to her while she remained in the hospital with her family. We texted a couple of times and agreed to meet when she returned to New York. Still, I flew back to the states and waited for her distress call. It never happened—Emma didn’t need anyone.

One of the companies I owned, was dedicated to taking down drug lords, rescuing hostages and protecting important people when they traveled to risky areas of the world. In that line of work, you didn’t have time to think long. You only had time to be precise before losing a client, a comrade or getting killed. Yet, Emma stumped me with her radical decision. The studio’s walls closed up on me, life as it had been for the past two years could end if I didn’t respond accordingly and only react to her words. Pulling my jeans on and taking a few steps to be closer to her, I began to grovel.

“I’m here to help, baby,” I tried to reason, before she continued with the ridiculous break up. Show her you can handle complicated. Darn, I handled her for a long time and she wasn’t an easy ride. Emma shook her head. I saw red. What happened to us? How could she break up with me when we’re doing alright? Of course, we weren’t a real item; just a…we never had a title. Don’t leave me, I wanted to beg. “Are you shutting me out, babe, just like with your grandfather’s fall?”

No answer. She finished tying her sneakers and headed toward the door.

“Sorry, Jake, I wish this was easier, baby. You mind locking the door on your way out? Leave the keys with Javier.”

Seriously, the doorman would give me my last goodbye?

TWO YEARS AGO…

Chapter 1

Jake

ELLEN MCPHEE PESTERED me all night during the K&W Christmas party. The woman was attractive, petite, and blond with big breasts; any man’s wet dream. But I wasn’t in the mood today, until she wore me down—
I’m only human.
I agreed to meet her upstairs, even though my little brother hated when I hooked up with his employees, because that became a hassle.

“Mr. Knight, he didn’t call me” was the most common complaint.

Taking a last gulp of champagne, I headed to the elevators. My hand met a delicate set of fingers touching the same up-button. I looked down, noticing a pair of silver high heels, with pretty toes matching the burnt orange color of the fingernails I spotted seconds ago. My gaze began to travel up her body, noticing a pair of long beautiful legs, then a black dress hugging her tight. Backless, my lower body noticed. My brain stopped my hand from reaching for her bare skin. With her back toward me, I couldn’t see her face. However I got to admire her fine backside, which included a messy up-do holding her auburn hair in loose curls, covering spots of her sexy long neck. My body wanted to exchange the previous date with the blond and go with this hot number instead.

But I tamed it. The bell of the elevator made her turn my way, finally connecting her gaze with mine for a moment, allowing me to discover not only a pair of big greenish eyes, but also her pouty mouth, button nose and overall flawless beauty. Though, as if I was invisible, she headed inside the elevator, not giving me a second glance. A flowery whiff trapped me and pulled me toward her. I felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs ready to get his treat. She pushed number five, while I pushed seven. First floor, now the second and the elevator car shook a couple of times coming to a halt. The lights went off and the emergency ones kicked in. My two options were to check the elevator and try to fix it, or take the opportunity to get to know Miss Pretty Face and Hot Body. The latter excited me, but before I made a move and dropped one of my signature lines, she talked.

“Oh no, no. This is not a good thing,” she said. Her startled voice matched her face perfectly, frightened but pretty. Her green eyes opened wide showing me in more detail the golden and brown freckles around the iris, that when combined made them look tawny green. I smiled, but instead of returning it, she narrowed her eyes and continued babbling, “You should worry about this, be afraid.” Her hands fidgeted with the fabric of her dress. “Have you heard of claustrophobia?”

I nodded, debating if I should fix the elevator or let her continue with her rant in hopes that we’d end up in her bed—or mine.
Ellen who?

“Well, I invented it.” She scratched the tip of her tiny nose and wrinkled it. “Others stole it from me. Let’s see, who’s in charge of New York, Thor, Captain America…. Don’t look at me like that.” Hands on her hips, she stared at me. “We need a superhero to save the day, because soon the excess sweat will start, followed by a full blown panic attack. You still think this is funny?”

“I used to be a hero.” I stood straight up and puffed my chest like Superman. But her frown made me chuckle and I couldn’t keep up with the charade. The girl was funny and had a spark, even while there was plenty of panic in those eyes which looked greener than before. “May I offer my services; I think I can take care of the bad guys.”

“And the metal box of doom?” A ghostly smile showed up on her face. Her pouty lips begged for a kiss—I abstained. The terrain wasn’t secure yet for her to be taken and mauled—
down boy.
She sized me up and down, shook her head, and laughed—a full blown belly laugh.

“What are your qualifications?” she asked.

What?
I mouthed and touched my heart with both hands feigning hurt.

“Yeah, I can’t accept those services without knowing beforehand that you’ve really done this kind of job.” Tilting her head to both sides, she continued, “You certainly aren’t scrawny, but it’s hard to confirm with the tux.” Pretty Girl gave me an up and down eye glance.

“Looks deceive,” said the girl with a serious face. “You could have been using a double during duty and I would never know.”

“Now the real question is, why the change of careers?” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “Was it because you had to wear tights, or the cape, a very unsafe accessory, an Achilles heel for superheroes?”

“Who are you?” I gasped for air while laughing. My brain was set on her humor, and her pretty body didn’t allow me to say anything smart. “You guessed, the yellow tights—not my color,” I whispered. “They made my ass look flat.” I composed myself, while discreetly turning to look at it—a move that made her laugh. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t divulge my confession, I faked my death. I warned everyone—twice.” I held three fingers and she chuckled. Her eyes began to loosen up the tension and magically the light brown strides predominated—the alternation of colors in her eyes reminded me of a chameleon.
“‘Change the outfit or I’ll disappear.’
No one listened. Now I’m a regular bystander, with a few superpowers left.” I placed a finger on my lips. “Shh, don’t tell anyone but I stole them from the supply closet before leaving the premises.”

Not only her body, but her personality had me wanting to be next to her and drink whatever she had. I took off the tux jacket and undid the bowtie while enjoying her expression. It was a combo between wanting to take her shoes off and run away and staying and enjoying the show. Those laughing, crinkled eyes made me want to convince her of the second one and take it to the next level. Slowly I took my vest off, handed it to her along with my jacket, and then proceeded with the shirt—undoing each button slowly. My company demanded me to be fit. I had better looks and body than Captain America—comic or actor. Dirty blond hair, green eyes and women mentioned I had an attractive face—chiseled features. When I showed her my biceps she gulped with widened eyes.

I gave her a peek of my abs, not much, but she got the idea of how scrawny I wasn’t.
Your turn,
my insides screamed, but it seemed she was human and didn’t read minds. Hoping that she’d come with me after the doors opened, I pulled the phone from ‘the metal box of doom’ and talked to whoever was on the other side. Her shallow breathing had calmed, but it appeared that she didn’t take well to enclosed places. They gave us a ten to twenty minute estimate, and her body loosened with the news. No rush, I wanted to tell them but refrained. I placed my jacket on the floor and offered her to sit on it, while I put my shirt back on.

“You took the job,” she said. I sat next to her once I straightened up my clothes leaving the vest unbuttoned and offered her a mint. It was that or a condom. The latter would look rude. “I hate big crowds and loud parties, yet I came tonight. Lapse in judgment, right? Then my second choice brought me into this mess,” she said, and twirled one of the loose curls around her ear. “I should delegate the decisions department to someone else. I suck at it.”

“No you made the right choice,” I answered while taking my phone out. “It’s been years since I rescued someone, anyone from a doomed artifact. I need the practice in case there’s an alien or paranormal invasion. Would you like me to take the decision making position?”

“I’m not usually like this,” she said, as if we had slept together on our first date, but we hadn’t gotten to first base yet. Not even a kiss. We only talked and laughed. The girl came from another planet, and surprisingly I wanted her to take me to her mother-ship. Then she snickered, going back to my question. “Decision making position, hmm, nope, haven’t decided if I’ll fire myself yet. The paradox: to make a choice to stop making decisions. Lovely, I’m screwed. Now what do we do, hero?”