Papa gave it to you…

Oh, the irony. I’d sacrificed the tiara to pay for her wedding and now she wanted to wear it at that same wedding. The last thing I had that connected me to that blurry, faded past, to those memories of Papa. And it was now out of my reach.

I had to continue leading them to believe that everything was all right. Because they never, ever would have taken the money if they’d known all that it cost me.

I hung up minutes later, then rolled over and sobbed into my pillow for a good fifteen minutes before I finally got hold of myself.

But there was definitely no going back to sleep.

 

 

Chapter 4

William

Monday is my favorite day of the week. Most feel that Friday should have that honor because they look forward to the weekend. They live for the weekend. But I prefer the comfort and structure that a weekday brings to my life. My days seem more difficult to fill on the weekends, even while participating in the Renaissance and Medieval Reenactment Alliance. Only so much time can be set aside for grocery shopping and meal preparation, for home organization and my various hobbies, and it’s hard to occupy that eight-hour block most often consumed by work.

And since I do not care to watch television, that’s a lot of time to fill.

Order is restored to my life on Mondays. I arrive at my station approximately five to ten minutes before the start of my shift. I don’t punch a clock, but I’ve always been punctual—and not just because I work for my cousin’s company. Things are easier when you are punctual. There’s no stress, no rush. You feel the accomplishment of arriving on time, ready to begin your workday.

However, this Monday, no matter how good it started, takes an annoying turn not long before lunch. I’m at my drafting desk in the art department when I suddenly become aware of someone standing near me. And since I’m in the middle of focusing on what I need to be doing—a computer-assisted rendering of some 3D background models—I ignore whoever it is until they loudly clear their throat.

Taking another few minutes to save and back up the complex and detailed work, I remove my special glasses designed to help with this task and look up.

Jordan, the company’s CFO, is standing across the desk from me, his hands in his pockets. “Hey, William. Sorry to interrupt.”

No, he isn’t, or he wouldn’t be doing it. Irritation bubbles up immediately. Jordan is not one of my favorite people and hasn’t been for some time. It’s been a few months since his crap advice lost me the chance to ask Jenna out on a date.

I’d made the mistake of asking Jordan for guidance on how to approach Jenna, since approaching women is easy for him. I’d followed his suggestions by inviting Jenna to participate in the RMRA, which she’d loved, and it had given me the opportunity to see her more often. Before that, she had just been one of Mia’s friends, but then she started to become one of mine. Just as I’d been designing my plan of attack, she’d met Doug, and they had begun their infuriating relationship instead.

As a practice, I still mentally curse out Jordan with words I don’t usually like to say out loud. I’ve been told that I have a hard, unforgiving nature, and that may very well be the case with Jordan—which I’ll admit could be awkward given our work situation. But he’s done nothing to make my life easier, and I don’t trust him.

Jenna might be single again, but she’s still not mine. And nothing Jordan has advised me to do has helped that.

“Yes? What?” I say.

Jordan hesitates and then smiles. “Just checking in. I heard about the LARP duel. Adam filled me in.”

I almost growl at him. “It’s not LARPing.”

He blinks. “Don’t you guys, uh, roleplay and stuff? Isn’t that was LARPing is?”

“LARP is live-action roleplay. That’s not what we do. We reenact. We have personas, but we recreate history in an authentic way—we don’t do fantasy roleplay. I save that for sitting around the table and playing D&D.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. Actually, I wanted to be at your duel, but April had a family thing down in San Diego.”

I try to stifle more bitterness. Sure, he is happily in love with a very pleasant and pretty girl, all while dispensing crap advice to those of us not born with his suave moves. He doesn’t deserve her.

I don’t reply and Jordan continues. “I’m sorry about the duel, man. I was really pulling for you.”

“I didn’t need any pulling,” I reply, forcing away the mental image of him grabbing my arm and pulling it.

“No, I mean I was hoping you’d win.”

I fold my arms across my chest and swivel on my workbench stool. “Why, so you won’t feel guilty anymore?”

Jordan’s lips thin and his eyes get squinty. “I see how it is. You’re still pissed at me.”

“I have a very good memory.”

“Yes, I’m well aware. I’ve already offered to make it up to you. I could fix you up with someone—”

My jaw tightens and heat rushes to my face. I stand up stiffly from my stool. “Maybe women are interchangeable to you, but they are not to me!”

Jordan blinks. “William—dude, calm down. I’m serious. I want to make this up to you. Maybe I could show you how—”

I point at him with my index finger. “I’m not taking your advice! Do you think I’m stupid? Clearly, you think I’m stupid.”

Jordan holds out a hand, palm out. “William, quiet down, okay? Let’s go talk in the warehouse or my office. Or let me buy you a coffee.”

“No. I don’t even like coffee.” I fold my arms across my chest again.

Jordan rubs his jaw and looks at me for a long, silent moment. “What can I do to make this up to you? Tell me…”

“Did Adam make you come here and talk to me? Why do you care?”

He glances up at the ceiling and blows out a breath. “Because I feel bad that you didn’t get your girl.”

My arms tense against my chest. “And you think something you can do will make up for that?”

He hunches his shoulders. “I don’t know. Look…call me when you feel like talking about it.”

“I deleted your number from my contacts,” I say.

His gaze shifts to the ceiling again. I wonder if there’s something up there—a bug or a spider. “Dude, throw me a bone here,” he says.