Page 60 of The Skeikh's Games

He was glad she was in a better place emotionally, but it made him feel terrible at the same time. Not only was he the one to thrust her into misery, but he also had nothing to do with making her feel better. Always he’d been her comfort, her rock, her safe place. He knew he hadn’t cheered her up because they hadn’t said more than two words to one another since all this started.

It was probably her family that had made her so happy. Good for them. Good for her. They hated him, and probably talked crap behind his back, but whatever. If it cheered her up, good. He wasn’t doing it, so he wasn’t going to get in the way of her being happy.

His cell rang with another unfamiliar number. It wasn’t the same as the child support one. This number was local. Taking a risk that it was from one of the applications he’d turned in, he answered it.

“Hi, Miles? It’s Roger, Saundra’s father. I was wondering if you could come into the office today. I wanted to have a talk with you, man to man.”

It felt like every organ inside of Miles imploded and he sank into the void they left. “Sure,” Miles said, the word barely escaping the strain in his throat. “Be happy to.”

“Great,” Roger said. “See you in an hour?”

“Yep.”

After hanging up, Miles groaned and shoved his face into the couch cushion. What the hell was this all about now? After getting dressed, he hopped onto his bike and rode downtown to the man’s office building. Miles couldn’t remember exactly what it was her dad did, but he knew he worked for one of the high-end department stores. Miles was pretty sure he was a manager or CEO or something.

The rumble of his bike’s engine echoed in the parking structure as he climbed the levels slowly. Parking on the roof level, he kept his helmet under his arm as he walked through the glass encased walkway linking the parking structure with the department store.

The city hustled and bustled below him, and it gave him a touch of vertigo as he walked along, staring down. All it would take was one little earthquake. The whole thing would snap, and down he’d go. There wasn’t anything to hold onto, nothing nearby he could hope to catch himself on. Just a hundred feet or more of air, and then splat on the street below.

He gave a shudder at the thought of impact and walked a little faster across the bridge to the building. The inside of the office smelled sterile. It was a pristine environment meticulously manufactured, like a terrarium for a lizard or something. Miles was used to the smells of cleaning chemicals, or engine exhaust, or food. Something pungent to remind the employees exactly where it was they were working.

Not here though. It smelled of new carpet and almost fresh pain, and paper. A ton of paper. People in suits and business casual button-ups and khakis walked along the cubicles as they answered phones and delivered manila folders to one another’s desk.

Miles found the elevator and went up the last few floors to the executive level. The smell of sterility was even worse here, only it was far less populated. Two voices chatted quietly around the corner. Other than that, nothing.

Miles walked along the hall to the reception area where a young blonde sat with half a headset.

“Can I help you?” she asked, giving him the eye.

Miles leaned an elbow on her desk. “Hey there. I’m here to see Roger.”

“Rog—“ she said, confused, then her face changed expressions when she realized he was talking about her boss. Obvious she was not on a first name basis with Roger. After talking over the little intercom, she smiled to him. “He’ll see you now, go right in.”

Miles winked and walked through the large, polished double-doors. Far wall was nothing but windows, and the view up there was even more severe than the one over the bridge.

“Wow,” Miles said.

“You like it?” Roger asked, smiling. He came around his desk and held a hand out to Miles.

After a quick handshake, Miles noted, “You get to look out at that every day.”

“It never gets old, either. Have a seat.”

Miles sat in the plush leather chair in front of Roger’s desk and rested his motorcycle helmet on his lap. Roger raised a leg to half-sit on his desk and interlocked his fingers in front of him.

“We’re both grown adults here,” Roger started, “so in the interest of mutual respect, I want to cut through all the bull. I’ll be straight with you, and you be straight with me. Deal?”

“Straight with you?” Miles asked, already feeling testy. “Like, the fact that your wife is constantly trying to setup my girlfriend with other men?”

Roger took in a deep breath, then slowly said, “Yes. That.”

“Sure, Roger. I can be straight with you.” Bring it on, old man, Miles thought. He’d hate to have to throw Saundra’s dad out the window to plummet down to—

Miles cut off that thought and shook his head. No, he couldn’t have those thoughts, not about Roger. The pain it would cause Saundra was immeasurable. If nothing else, he couldn’t do that to her.

“I know you’re having trouble finding a job. I wanted to offer you one here.”

“Excuse me?” For a moment, Miles couldn’t process what he’d heard. He thought back to all of the people in their cubicles, and the blonde at the desk that didn’t know his name was Roger.

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