Page 1 of Tormented Bastard
Everything’s Fine
Eden
Ever have one of those days where the feeling of foreboding is so strong you wished you’d stayed under the covers?
Yeah, me too. Today was that day.
I overslept, something I never do. The zipper on my favorite pencil skirt broke, and I dropped the mascara wand on my white blouse. The second elevator in my well-placed apartment building in Lennox Hill was on the fritz, which meant it took me twice as long to get out of the building. I picked up my venti vanilla latte with three espresso shots, only to find on the train ride to my small but well-placed office in Midtown Manhattan that it was a chai tea.
I hated chai tea.
That twitch between my shoulder blades didn’t let up even as I walked through the door of my office. That’s when life reached out and slapped me.
“Eden, Mason Jackstone’s agent is on the phone.” My assistant, Katie, poked her head into my minimally decorated office. The deep frown on her face made my stomach turn.
“Thanks.” I picked up the phone and plastered a smile I didn’t feel on my face. “Barb, how are you today?”
The sigh from the other end was heavy, and that twitch went into full force. “Eden, I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”
Not only was I twitching, but I also now had somersaulting butterflies in my belly. “Um, no. It’s been a busy morning.” I bit the inside of my mouth as the lie rolled off my tongue.
Another sigh. “Mason had an accident on his motorcycle. He’s going to be in the hospital for at least a week, maybe longer if he needs another surgery. Obviously, he’s unable to speak at the charity ball.”
And there it was. The bad feeling I’d fought all morning, that woke me up earlier than my five a.m. wake up call, had come to fruition. Shit. What the hell was I going to do now?
Well, the first thing to do was probably act like a decent human being.
“Oh my God! Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so. He has a mild concussion and some bad road rash. The biggest thing is his leg and arm. In the long run, he’ll be okay. But it’s going to take some time.” Barb paused. “I’m so sorry, Eden. I know this is last minute.”
“I’m just glad Mason is okay for the most part. I’ll find a replacement.” I injected enthusiasm I didn’t feel into the words. I was happy he was alive—I’m not a monster.
But if I didn’t pull off this fundraiser charity ball, I wouldn’t be able to pay off the balloon payment on my loan. If I don’t pay the loan, I lose everything. Including the team of fifteen people dependent on me for their livelihoods. I wasn’t a huge corporation, but I was a decent-sized small business and paid my people well for the work they did. We all worked hard and reaped the rewards.
Unfortunately, I went to college and got a PR degree, not a business degree, so I’d learned some lessons from the school of hard knocks. A few questionable decisions later—including taking out a loan with a balloon payment—I was on the brink of bankruptcy.
We said our goodbyes, and I leaned back in my gently used office chair. The only thing standing between me and bankruptcy of my company, Perfection Planning, was this fundraiser. Three of New York’s top businessmen—Graham Morgan, Dexter Truitt, and Hollis LaCroix—hired my event management company to organize their event, and I’d promised to deliver.
Katie walked in with a pale pink mug in her hands that said “cat mom” on the side, a tendril of steam rising from it. “Mason’s out?” she asked, sinking down in the chair on the other side of my desk.
I sighed. “Yeah.”
Katie nodded. “I figured as much after I saw the article about his accident.”
“What the hell, Katie? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She snorted and flipped a lock of her rose-gold hair over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you hear about it? Don’t you watch the news?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I watch the news. Current events, world issues, the weather. What I don’t watch is the E! News channel.”
She sipped her coffee. “Well, see? You should. If you had, you’d know that he was hit by a certain Hollywood starlet who’d been drinking again and nearly killed him. It was a nasty accident.”
I rubbed my forehead to ward off the marching band that was already set up behind my eyes. “Well, find out what his favorite whiskey is or something and send it to Barb so it will get to him.”
“Got it.”
I worried when she didn’t write anything down, but the woman remembered everything, even the things I didn’t want her to remember. She was a gem, in spite of her irrational love for the color pink and a wardrobe that made her look like she stepped out of the fifties. I gave up trying to figure out where she bought her clothes a long time ago.
