I have so many questions about the ever mesmerizing, mysterious Brett, but I probably will know any of the answers.
1 Opal
One Year Later
“Yes, I know,” I say into the phone pressed between my ear and my shoulder. “I realize it’s inconvenient Mr. Hall, but unfortunately there’s very little I can do at this point, except apologize again.”
I’m bent over at the car door as I gather up a pile of files with my ass in the air, dragging them towards me from the passenger seat. I really am regretting taking this call. I should have known better. If my voice mail explaining that Mr. Connell is in hospital, following a heart attack did not placate this man, then nothing would.
Instead, Mr. Hall just seems to want to berate me for a while for something that isn’t my fault. “Your apology isn’t going to get my meeting happening any faster though is it, Miss?” he says.
And neither is your damned attitude. That’s what I want to say, but of course, I don’t. Instead, I bite my tongue and agree with Mr. Hall in what I hope is a sympathetic tone, “No Mr. Hall, but as I explained in my voice mail, there really isn’t anything more I can tell you at this point. As soon as I have any further information about the situation, I promise that you will be the first to know.”
That’s a lie. He will be told eventually, but after all of the clients who haven’t bitten my head off over this.
I finally manage to get all of the files and papers gathered together and into my arms. I juggle them rather precariously while I fumble my car keys back out of my jacket pocket. I kick the door closed and press the button to lock my car, and then I turn and hurry across the parking area. Mr. Hall’s voice is still banging on in my ear and I’m trying my best to think of something to say to make him shut up and go away, Since my voicemail to him didn’t do that, then I’m really at a loss for what will.
Hearing a loud beeping of a car horn followed by the screech of tyres, I look to my right where the noise came from. I’m expecting to see two drivers squaring up to each other, each one blaming the other for pulling out on them. Instead, I am horrified to see a car speeding towards me. I freeze, biting back a scream as the files go flying from my hands.
Dammit. Dammit. And double fucking dammit.
The car manages to stop inches in front of me and I let out a shaky breath. I can feel tears starting to well up in my eyes and my hand is shaking as I reach up for the phone. “Mr. Hall,” I say, cutting him off midsentence. “I’m sorry, I really can’t talk right now. I’ll call you as soon as I have any further information for you.”
I cut off the call even though he’s still talking. I know I will get a load of flak for that if Mr. Connell finds out, but right now, I really don’t care. I almost got killed because of being distracted by Mr. Hall and his incessant complaints. Right now, all I want to do is go back to my car, go home, and curl up under the blankets. I can’t do that of course, but I can at least stop the man’s whining in my ear.
My phone rings almost immediately after I end the call. Mr. Hall’s name flashes on the screen, and before I can change my mind, I turn the phone off and drop it into my pocket. I crouch down and begin to retrieve the files. Papers have flown from them and they’re everywhere, all of the carefully organized documents are scattered around in a total disorganized mess.
The driver of the car who almost hit me lays on his horn.
I can feel my temper rising. The bastard nearly hit me with his car, and now he can’t wait two fucking minutes while I retrieve my things?
I keep grabbing the papers, shutting out the blaring horn. I hear the window slide down and I glance up to see a man’s head poking out of the driver’s side window.
His face is red and he’s frowning. “Do you think you could take a little longer there?” he snaps.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I snap back, glaring at him. I go back to retrieving my papers. My anger, the fact I could have been killed, and the pressure from the driver all add together to make me clumsy and slower than I normally would have been.
“Jeez lady, some of us have places to be you know,” the driver shouts.
“For the love of God, can you give me a fucking minute?” I shout. “Either come and help me, or close the window and shut the fuck up.”
I’m a little surprised when I hear the window go back up. I half expected him to jump out of his car and forcibly move me out of the way. I finish gathering the papers together, the process being a little quicker now, since the driver isn’t hurling abuse at me. I finally straighten up and I dash the rest of the way across the parking lot. I don’t glance back at the car, not even when the driver opens his window again, and calls me a bitch as he speeds away.
Finally, I manage to enter the hospital just about in one piece. I take a moment to look around the sterile looking lobby area, taking in the familiar scent of a hospital. It smells like a combination of antiseptic and stewing vegetables. I guess even having the
