Scandalous Heroes Box Set (94 page)

“Now, that aside. Let’s address you and Martin. He is your direct supervisor, Milan, whether you like it or not. I expected more professionalism from you. You have to respect his rules as long as they coincide with the company regulations.”

Milan couldn’t believe her ears. Soon though, a thought hit her, and everything seemed clear in her mind.

“He is using my mother’s death and my time off as a launch pad to further other arguments,” she explained, desperate to make the man understand.

“What is going on regarding that? What comments is he making?”

Milan found it rather odd that Garrett never called that son of a bitch in the office, too. Why only her? Although increasingly vexed, she did her utmost to remain cool.

“I’d accrued a bunch of vacation time that I’d never used, but was owed to me. I rarely called in sick or anything, and the one time I needed to use the Family Leave Act, he gave me no sense of sympathy. It was as if he didn’t even care, as if,” she shrugged, “I was gone on some three month tropical vacation, having the time of my life, while he did all the work. And what a smack in the face that was — while I was gone taking care of my mother, he of all people got promoted! I am offended by
that
, Garrett and I don’t believe for one second that you think he is a better employee than I am!”

There, she’d said it. Garrett asked, and she delivered.

The man sighed, leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his face. From between his fingers, he peered at her, and if her eyes were not fooling her, she caught a slight smirk on his face.

“This has been really bothering you, hasn’t it? Look…” He sat up and clasped his hands together, leaning slightly over the desk. “Milan, despite what you think, Martin
is
a good employee. Yes, he can be a bit of a wise guy at times, but he has great managerial skills. I believe you and he are having a personality clash, and it’s been that way for quite some time. Like you, he is dedicated and does good work. He entered this company seeking a managerial position. He’d already been a manager at another firm. That firm closed, and all we had at the time were other accountant positions. We told him to join our team, and when the first opportunity arose, we’d place him. That’s exactly what happened.”

“So, because you told him he could be a manager, everyone else here that has worked our behinds off to also have the
same
opportunity were tossed aside so that Martin could get what he first came here for? Wow.” She smirked. “That’s unbelievable…actually, I take that back. It is
quite
believable.”

“You’re twisting what I said.”

“No, I’m relaying the facts of what you said. I’ve been here waaaaay longer than Martin, Garrett.” She was beyond hiding how she felt; it was time to take the show home. “I have had people under me for various projects, demonstrating that I, too, am management material. You and Martin are friends; everyone knows it and that’s fine, but it is getting in the way of your judgment.”

“You’re out of line, Milan,” he said sternly.

Bastard.
Frazzled, she drew into herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s no use continuing this conversation. I see where I stand in your eyes. Am I free to go?”

Looking as much saddened as weary, Garrett sighed. “I don’t want any more public displays like that between you and Martin, Milan. You’re better than that.”

She stood from her seat and glared at him. “He won’t be called into your office today, will he? Instead, he’ll get a pat on the back and no reprimand whatsoever. I’m
better
than that?” She sneered. “No, I’m
better
than what I’ve been going through with this company as of late! You’ve put that man, the one that I report to, and his desires above everyone else’s, above the good of the company. You’ll receive my two week notice by the end of the day.” Trembling with rage, she marched towards the door.

“Milan, come back here please!” Garrett voice boomed, startling her.

She didn’t expect to be stopped, or anything else to be said. Truth be told, she was scared out of her mind. She’d be jobless, on her own, but she had to protect her self-respect and draw a line in the sand. The blatant disregard had become too much…

She turned back towards him to find him on his feet, his palms planted on his desk, a look of both anger and desperation on his face.

“I can’t just let you go like this, Milan. Look, you and I don’t see eye to eye about Martin, but you are an integral part of this company. The clients love you; I think the world of you.” He placed his large hand across his heart. “We need to talk this out.”

“I don’t know what else to say.” She crossed her arms, still pissed as hell. “You’ve chalked up the impudence of that man towards me as a personality clash. It is far from that, not even close.”

“…Okay.” He slumped back down into his chair. “I will have a talk with Martin, okay? I have not witnessed what you are speaking of, Milan, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

“When have you known me to be overly dramatic, Garrett?” She had to bite her tongue to keep from laying into the man and doing good on her threat. He was getting under her skin, even as he attempted to smooth all this horrid shit out.

The man shrugged and shook his head. “Look, just let me handle it, please. Will you at least give me a chance to address it? I can’t fix what I didn’t know about, Milan.”

You knew about it. You just didn’t want to do shit about it.

But she kept silent, and simply nodded as she left, closing the door firmly behind her.

~***~

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Two weeks later…

Julian glanced at her as they lay under the stars, their bodies intertwined on an old plaid blanket in his small, well-manicured fenced backyard. The grass smelled sweet and the air brimmed with the scents of nature. Milan looked up at the stars, a placid smile on her beautiful face as she rested on her arm, falling undoubtedly into a daydream.

“You okay? Are you cold?”

“No, everything is just perfect.” The blackness of night blanketed them. He never tired of her smile. “Tell me a story, a true story…” She asked.

“What kinda story?”

“I don’t know, something from your life. Yeah, read me a page from the book of your life.” Her voice and face soothed his heart.

“Okay, let’s see…I got it. When I was a little boy,” he began, “I had seen this house that I currently live in a gazillion times. My mom would drive past it on her way to taking me to school, in her old, beat up station wagon.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his mother’s hands clutched around the steering wheel, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth and her red and white waitress uniform with all the wrinkles and stains clinging to her thin, yet womanly form. Her jet black hair would be wound in a tight ponytail and she’d sing to him the songs on the radio, her tone off-key but beautiful all the same, while he and his stepsister sat sprawled on the lumpy backseat, their book bags full of homework and excuses as to why some of it wasn’t done.

“We’d go past this house right here, and I’d point to it and say, ‘I love that house, mom! One day, I’m going to buy it!’ And she’d laugh…you know, a real easy laugh, not making fun of me or anything like that, just the kind a mom gives a kid to not squash his little dreams with nay-sayin’. Then she’d say, ‘You sure love that house, Jay.’”

“She called you Jay?” Milan asked, her eyes upon the stars.

“Yup. Everyone did; most people still do.”

“Finish the story.” She held his hand a bit tighter.

“So, I’d say, ‘Yeah, Mom, I’m going to get that house when I get grown and get some money.’ I knew we couldn’t afford it. I saw it come up for sale a couple of times, and I’d start fantasizing about it. In my mind, I’d pretend that my stepfather would come home and say, ‘Hey, I bought that house Jay wanted. We’ll move in tonight.’” He paused. “Of course that never happened. We weren’t destitute, but I guess you’d have called us lower middle class … I never was hungry or anything like that, but we struggled a bit from time to time.” He swallowed, feeling her stir against him, her body soft and comforting.

“My step-father worked really hard as a mechanic. He was gone more than he was home. I think she liked it like that, though. My mom seemed to have a thing for guys that worked on cars.” He chuckled. “It seemed my dad, my stepfather and her boyfriends before him, were all either mechanics or truck drivers.” He yawned. “Anyway, when I got my first gig at Pyro-Ink, the very first tattoo salon I ever worked out of professionally, I had saved up enough money to get a house. I didn’t know where I was going to put down roots, though…just kinda knew I needed a place to lay my head, one that I could call my own. I hated apartments because I like to burn a lot of shit, and people would think I was smokin’ Mary Jane.”

Milan burst out laughing, a musical sound. He squeezed her hand.

“I am the type of guy that needs space…room. I don’t like being under or above people…or beside people, unless that person is my baby…” He caught her eye as she stared at him, and he winked.

“I like that,” she whispered.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” He said coolly as he looked down at his bare feet, then back at the sky. “So, one day, I was driving around, and saw this house right here. There was no ‘For Sale’ sign on it but I parked in front of it any way, and just stared at it for the longest. Then, I got out my car and walked up to the front door and knocked. No one answered, so I left my name and number and asked that whoever lived there, to please call me as soon as possible. I didn’t think I’d hear anything back, but I did. Some lady called me that evening and I told her, point blank, ‘Hey, I want to buy your house.’

“She was real quiet on the other end for awhile. And then she was like, ‘It’s not for sale.’ I told ’er, ‘Okay, well if it ever is, call me.’ I didn’t hear back about it, so I started to look at other places. I could never find a place I really liked though. Then, I got a call. That same woman called me and said she’d gotten a job out of town and needed to sell her house fast. We made it happen. I hadn’t even been inside the place, but I knew I’d love it. I walked inside, looked around, envisioning just how I wanted it to be.” He put his hands up as if he were taking a snapshot. “It’s not a big house, but it’s perfect for me. I really feel at home when I enter it. Anyway…” He cleared his throat, getting back on track. “I looked around and, you know, thought about how I’d replace the carpet, windows, update the kitchen, knock out a wall upstairs to make a bigger bedroom, get the basement finished and water-proofed to do my private tattooing — my goal at the time.”

Milan stared into his eyes, transfixed, making him feel like a great storyteller. He pretended to not see her, but the way she looked at him made him feel one hundred percent important. He loved that…

“Then, as time passed, I said, ‘Screw this basement shit. I can just open my own shop. Working from home wasn’t always convenient.”

Milan closed her eyes now, as if in the middle of a peaceful dream. His hair covered part of her shoulder, the strands sprawled about, and he felt like the rising sun, basking under the vibrant moonlight, in competition with the prettiest star in the entire galaxy. That star was his precious Milan…

He pulled her closer to him, and it didn’t take much for she was suddenly lying atop his over-sized Bob Marley T-shirt. Now, her hair blended with his. Wavy, dark brown textured tresses slightly intertwined with his own. His groin throbbed, reminding him that no matter how cool he tried to be about the situation, the scent of her perfume and skin was turning him on and he’d lost track of time — didn’t recall even what he’d been saying. All that he knew was that he felt happy, and there was no other place he’d rather be.

“Where did the name ‘Soul Inscriptions’ come from? Was that your idea?” she asked, her voice muffled as her cheek pressed into his chest.

“Funny, I was just getting to that…” She’d gotten him back on track. “So, I went around looking for a property to rent, and ended up buying that space instead. Named it ‘Soul Inscriptions’ because of my philosophy about tattoos. Some people get them because they want to feel important, cool, and different. There was a time when tattoos were only associated with sailors and indigenous people. They were considered un-classy, only done by people who didn’t fit into society, rebels and derelicts. That changed; and now, everyone, even grandmothers and great grandmothers, are getting them but to me, the
true
meaning of a tattoo, to permanently mark oneself, means that you claim something to your very soul. You want it written on your heart. You can’t take it with you, so you try as hard as you can to prescribe meaning, to make sense of this craziness around us, you know? ”

“Yes, I know.”

He was quiet for a few moments while he ran his hand up and down her arm. He toyed with her sleeve, biding time, until he gave up the battle. He needed her. Her soft lips slightly parted when he rolled her onto her back and straddled her.

“What are you doing?!” She giggled, his ruby and gold Chinese lanterns strung high above them making her dark eyes glow.

“I’m about to show you something…”

“I’ve already seen it many times,” she teased, forcing him to laugh, too.

He pushed her legs apart and settled between her thighs as he brushed her hair out of her face.

“You know…I think you’re so used to keeping things to yourself, keeping things all bottled up, that you forget to breathe. I think you forget that you can talk to me, that I want you to, and shit, you just need to.” He traced the side of her neck with his fingertips.

She swallowed and stared at him more intensely. “I never really thought about that, actually. I didn’t use to be that way, though.”

“Well.” He exhaled. “Sometimes things happen that change us. If we keep letting something change us, it becomes a part of us, a habit. It’s no longer just an incident.” He snaked his hand under her shirt; she bucked playfully beneath him.

“I knew you were going to try this!” She laughed, pretending to fight him off of her.