Zenith Rising (6 page)

She shook her head and went over to her
purse. He noticed what she was doing.

“I don’t need your money, Doc.”

“Don’t take it as an insult. It’s the middle
of the night, and we just got through a crappy two hours, and you
don’t have a job. So take it and call a cab.”

He eyed her and stiffened. “Fine. I’ll call a
cab, but I don’t need your money.”

“I wish you would take it, but I see you
won’t. Are you looking for another job?”

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his
chest. “Guess so. Have to work.”

“I could easily get you on at my practice.
Until you find something better, that is. It won’t be glamorous,
but it could pay your bills until things improve. I own the
building the practice is in. I have several tenants, and there is
lots of work around the building and grounds that needs to be
done.”

“You own the whole building?”

“Yes. So are you interested?”

“Why would you do that?”

“I guess because I can.”

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’ve
been getting jobs, on and off, all my adult life.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. The building
has work that needs to be done. The job is yours if you want
it.”

He glared at her and she almost apologized
for the offer. Then, he suddenly nodded, and in a curt tone, said,
“Fine. I’ll take it.”

“Again, I’m not trying to insult you.”

He was silent, but finally nodded. “I’m sorry
for being a jerk about it. In my world, people don’t do nice things
without being asked for near strangers. Not so in your world
though, is it?”

She didn’t know what to say to that. “So is
that a yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She grabbed her purse, dug out her
business card and handed it to him. “Eight o’clock Monday. Here’s
our address.”

He hesitated and stared at her. His gaze slid
from her hair, and down her body. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, Doc.
See you at eight o’clock Monday morning.”

****

Spencer thought about calling Rob and
insisting that he pick him up at Erica’s condo. Instead, he called
a cab. Rob, who was still broke, often borrowed his car, leaving
him to ride the city bus half the time. Tonight, however, he didn’t
feel like riding it or calling Rob. He was so pissed off still, and
primed that he didn’t know what to do. Go out? Get drunk? Get laid?
Get high? All seemed like equally good choices. He sighed, and
ultimately decided to go home even though there wasn’t a single
reason to do that.

He slammed the door when he walked in and
stomped through the house. He went to the fridge and grabbed a
beer, popping the top and drinking liberally. All the while, Rob
watched him from the couch. Spencer did it to say
screw you, I
can drink this. You can’t. Fuck you, Rob.
Especially tonight.
He knew he shouldn’t keep alcohol in the house. He hadn’t for the
first year after Rob’s recovery, but decided recently he wasn’t a
recovering drunk. Rob was. Rob had to handle it. Even in their
house.
Especially tonight.

Finally, Spencer’s anger cooled down. He came
around the couch and sat at the opposite end.

“I didn’t do it this time, Spence. I know
everything lately is my fault. But not this one.”

“I know. It’s mine. For even bringing someone
like that here.”

“Dr. Erica Heathersby. I always assumed that
was as in Heathersby Shipping? The big cargo ships with their
labels on them any relation to her?”

Spencer shrugged. “Don’t know. I’d assume so.
I know she owns a building. And you know where she lives.”

Rob sat back and glanced at Spencer. “So what
was she doing here? I mean, how could I have known that Erica
Heathersby, of all the women in the city, would be here?”

“She felt sorry that I had to take the bus
tonight. That was, of course, after she just delivered a baby, for
God’s sake.”

“Joelle’s baby.”

“Two years, Rob. It’s been over two years.
You don’t get to be the angry ex just because she moved on. It’s
not about you anymore.”

Rob paused as he let out a breath. “You’re
right. It’s not. So the doc drove you home. Why’d she come in? You
and her...”

“No. Her and I nothing. Ever. You’ve seen
her. We barely get past a few conversations. Even that was strained
for her. Anyway, she fell asleep on the way home. Turns out she
delivered another baby last night, and was up for almost two days.
I was getting her a simple, uncomplicated, cup of coffee when you
barged in.”

“And complicated everything, as usual.”

“Fuck you, Rob. Sometimes, I don’t need
it.”

“I agree. Except tonight wasn’t me. Besides,
Erica handled it pretty well. She didn’t go running or screaming,
and she didn’t blame you. She was pretty cool about the whole
thing.”

“So quit being such a dick about her,”
Spencer said, turning towards the TV. He was quiet for a long
while. Finally, he mumbled, “She offered me a job.”

Rob turned, and muted the sound. “Who did?
Erica?”

“Yeah. Doing maintenance at her office, on
the building she owns. Whatever. It’s bullshit.”

“She offered you a job after what happened
here tonight?”

“Yeah, right after it.”

“Take it. Why not?”

“I’m tired of bullshit jobs.”

“So do something, Spence. Do the fuck
something. Forget me. Forget
Zenith
. Forget all this, and do
something else.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll do that. Right now though?
We have bills. So I took her job.”

Rob looked over at him. “That was nice of
her.”

Spencer took a long drink of beer. “Of
course, it was nice of her. She’s a nice lady. With a nice life.
What’s not nice about her?”

Rob shifted his body towards Spencer, who
took a long, thirst-quenching drink of beer, overly exaggerating
it. Rob smiled. “You know since the first time you ever saw her,
you’ve had it for her. First goddamn time, when you were still
Spike, and she came up alongside her boyfriend, Nick Lassiter, and
introduced herself, you acted so strange about her. And so did she.
She was gracious then, as if we were the damn neighbors coming over
for a quick chat. Despite the look of fear in her eyes, when she
spotted my tattoos and your hair, she got to you then. As she does
now. And that’s why she was in this house tonight.”

Spencer stared harder at the muted TV. “Don’t
know what you’re talking about.”

“You do. That’s what has you so pissed off at
me, at her, and at your life. I’ve done a thousand things worse
than tonight, and this is what you choose to get fed up over with
me? It’s not about me tonight, Spence. It’s all about her. It’s
about how you feel towards Erica Heathersby.”

“Fuck you.”

Rob got up and slapped a hand on Spencer’s
shoulder. “Yeah, sure, buddy. Just remember even though she’s a
doctor, and wealthy, and everything you think you’re not, you are
worthy of her. You deserve someone like her, and you’re good enough
for her.”

Spencer clicked the sound back on the TV and
pretended to ignore Rob. He acted like he hadn’t heard a word Rob
said. Rob sighed, but finally left the room.

Good enough for her? For Dr. Erica
Heathersby? Christ, he wasn’t good enough to clean her damn floors.
She was a successful, bright, intelligent, professional doctor. She
delivered babies, for God’s sake. Tonight, while he waited idly in
the waiting room, she was there, actually delivering life. What did
he do today? Mostly sat around, washed his car, and thought about
playing some useless tunes on a piano that no one would ever hear.
He’d also gone to the tavern, and drank, while thinking about
screwing the waitress before getting a text from Nick Lassiter
about the baby.

He walked straight into Erica Heathersby. He
couldn’t catch his breath around her. He was afraid to speak around
her. He was afraid to let on what a loser he was, compared to her.
She knew, of course. She saw how his lifestyle affected Joelle. She
knew Spike first hand. Where could he go from there?
Nowhere.
There was nowhere to go with a woman like
Erica.

Yet, once alone with her, what did he do? He
nearly forced her to go to the café with him, knowing she was
too nice
to refuse without a good excuse. Then she politely
offered him a ride home, and again, she didn’t really mean it. But
of course, he didn’t just say no. Oh no. He took the ride, knowing
damn well the whole time that she didn’t mean it.

And a freaking job offer! Yeah, of course,
Erica Heathersby lent a helping hand to a lazy, loser, going
nowhere, a nothing, like him. It all fit right into her
personality. No matter what Rob claimed tonight, Spencer knew damn
well he wasn’t good enough for Erica Heathersby, and he never would
be.

Chapter Five

Spencer could see Erica through the
half-opened door of her office. She didn’t look like any doctor
he’d ever known. She was almost freakishly beautiful. She had on a
pale peach pantsuit and the material clung to her long legs. Her
startling, white-blond hair, straight and gossamer thin, fell to
her shoulders, framing her face. She had green eyes that were
ringed in gold. She was just sitting down at her long, ornate desk.
Pushing in her chair, she smiled at the woman seated across from
her. She continued talking while tossing her hair over her
shoulder, and adjusting the black rims of her glasses.

And those glasses! Who knew glasses could do
so much for a woman? For Spencer? Black-rimmed, wide and thin, they
seemed designed just for her. They made her adorable and
approachable, where she could have come off as cold, or
intimidating. Her glasses made her seem insecure, even sweet. To
Spencer, they made her the most sophisticated, gorgeous woman he
ever laid eyes on.

The first time he saw her was in Nick
Lassiter’s penthouse. He was still Spike then, and in full force:
spiky Mohawk and all. He came with Rob, who was trying to convince
Joelle to come back to him. They found out Joelle was staying with
Nick, and went to see her there. And Spencer came face-to-face with
Erica Heathersby, who was then Nick’s girlfriend. Spencer was as
stricken and startled by her, as she was by Spike.

She wasn’t then, or now, his type. But from
the first time he saw her, she left him feeling sucker-punched.
That first night, she made him suddenly wish he weren’t Spike. He
wished then that she could look at him and see a man, not a freak.
Right about that time, after meeting her, was when he started to
rethink “Spike.” He was getting tired of appearing so freakish and
off-putting to most people.

As he watched Rob disintegrate, after Joelle
finally left, he began to rethink everything:
Zenith
, the
drugs, the alcohol, the parties, and Spike. All of it was becoming
stupid and suddenly dangerous, where it once was fun. It used to be
a kick, a “fuck you” to everyone and everything that ever hurt him
in the past. Spike reclaimed his power over them all. He actually
scared people. They were all repelled by him. All those people who
were so secular, so normal, and never felt how he felt, or lived,
or dreamed what he did. There was stuff so dark, so thick, and so
blinding, he sometimes felt he was drowning in the pain it caused
him.

And Spike became his answer to all that, his
way out of pain and foggy confusion. Spike was so startling and
different, he wasn’t Spencer anymore. He wasn’t the poor, pathetic
little Spencer Mattox anymore. He wasn’t a victim. He was Spike.
Fuck-everybody-else Spike.

That was until Erica looked at him with so
much fear, she almost choked on her words. Still, she managed to be
gracious and nice to him, when she could have been rude, and called
him the freak he strove to be. He saw more of Erica over the years,
here and there, whenever he visited Joelle. He was nearly
speechless when he discovered the well dressed, socialite he
believed Erica to be was, in fact, a doctor, and a baby doctor.

He also knew her family owned a large
shipping company at the Port of Seattle, Heathersby Shipping, and
were old money. Nick Lassiter kind of money. Yet, she had her own
career, and seemed to work her ass off at her thriving
practice.

After Joelle moved in with Nick, Spencer
didn’t see much of Erica until he walked into Joelle’s hospital
room and found her next to Joelle. Once again, he was nearly struck
mute. Nearly useless. She was so lovely, and strikingly so. She
made him nervous and he couldn’t think of what to say or how to say
it whenever he was around her.

That was until he realized she had no idea
who he was.

And now he would be working for her. Again,
the nearly unnoticed “help.” What did he care though? It wasn’t
like he sought a lifelong calling. He was trying to earn enough
money to get out of a dark hole. The very hole Rob dug and nearly
buried them in. But Spencer didn’t really mind. At least, it was a
lot less darker and deeper than the hole Rob rescued him from
thirteen years ago.

Over the last year or so, he had to make do
with odd jobs and deliveries, but didn’t care. He was repaying a
debt he owed Rob. And now that he was doing so much for Erica
Heathersby, just to earn money, it bothered him. He was once again
unseen, unnoticed, and unimportant. Usually, however, he didn’t
give a damn.

But he cared about being seen this way by
Erica. After starting about a month ago, he was responsible for
delivering countless lab test samples, running office errands, and
retrieving things, from napkins to diet soda to Xerox paper. He
fixed the printer, painted the lobby and two exam rooms, and
re-installed a broken handrail. Erica’s to-do list went on with
things like that.

He met with Erica for only a few moments on
the day he first started. He was soon handed off to her assistant;
and after that, saw very little of her. He received his paycheck,
signed by Erica Heathersby, but all the time, questioned why the
hell he hired on to become her invisible, handyman employee? He was
barely one notch above the janitor.