Page 13 of Corporate Escapades

“Paris!” yelled Mya. “Are you awake?”

Groaning, Paris closed the door to the peephole.

“I can hear you,” Mya snapped.

“Good then read between the lines,” she said as she turned away from the door. Mya immediately began banging on it once again. “What do you want?” asked Paris.

“Let me in!” she yelled.

Not wanting to argue, because of the pounding headache she was experiencing, Paris walked back to the door and opened it. Mya shoved a glass of orange juice and three generic painkillers into her hands. “Super,” said Paris. She tossed the painkillers in her mouth and downed the juice. It felt refreshing as it rolled down her throat. Turning away, she went back to the settee and flopped down on her back.

“Get ready. Your father didn’t send me over. He doesn’t want me to do you any favors, but your mother asked me to be sure you made it to your meeting on time. May I ask? What exactly did you do last night? No one would tell me. Just that Chase Lansell and I are to be at the meeting, too.”

“None of your damn business,” said Paris. “I can’t imagine why they’d need you there.”

“Don’t snap at me. I didn’t do any of this to you,” she said as a tear rolled down her face. “We’ve been best friends since we were in middle school.”

“Not anymore,” replied Paris. Her voice came off colder than even she had expected. “I can’t stand to look at you. I’m going to my room to get dressed.” She left Mya standing in the living room with tears silently flowing.

Mya thought back to earlier days when she and Paris were still in college. They would plan weekend trips home from school because they hated being away from one another. They spent their summers volunteering at the same camp for underprivileged children, because they wanted to make a difference together. She and Paris were strong, kind, and caring women who could previously rely on each other to be present. Now, Mya couldn’t even get Paris to utter one kind word to her.

Mya walked to the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the faucet to splash cold water on her face. She gazed at her pale, shaky reflection. She didn’t understand why it had to be like this. Grabbing the hand towel, she dried her face and continued to stare back at herself. She looked awful. Her hair was matted with tears, and her blue eyes were red and puffy. She rarely slept anymore. Nightmares plagued her sleeping mind, and when she woke, they didn’t go away. The sound of the crash and Alli’s screaming played on constant repeat. Paris’s anger was a recurring trigger.

“Mya,” said Paris as she pounded on the door, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair and shook out her arms. “You can do this,” she said quietly to her reflection. Turning, she opened the door and was met by Paris’s owly stare.

“You gonna pull it together?” asked Paris. The coldness was still present in her voice, though she was speaking with more control.

Without a word, Mya pushed past her and headed out the door. Calling over her shoulder, she said, “Chase’s meeting us in the lobby. Your mom sent him to get Vic.” Paris didn’t acknowledge her. Mya turned to see what she was doing. “Damnit, Paris!” she yelled. Paris had opened a bottle of pills and was about to pop one in her mouth when Mya snatched the bottle away.

“Hey, give it back!” she shrieked.

“Percocet again?” Marching past her, Mya went back into the condo.

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m doing this because I care about you!” Paris launched herself at Mya, but not before Mya had dumped the contents into the disposal and flipped the switch on. The disposal clanged and gnashed as it ate up every last pill.

“You dirty little bitch!” screamed Paris.

The words stung, but Mya refused to give Paris the satisfaction of showing it. “You need to be sober for this,” she replied confidently. “I’m not sorry for what I've done. Alli wouldn’t want to see you like this. She would have done the same.”

Paris raised her hand and slapped Mya across the face. “Don’t you dare bring her into this!”

Mya, covering her cheek from the sting, said nothing. She walked out the door and headed for the elevator. She couldn’t let Paris see her cry again. Inside the elevator, she hit the button to close the door before Paris had a chance to get in. She could take her own car down. When the doors opened on the main floor, Vic and his assistant Chase were patiently waiting and immediately recognized that something was off.

“Whoa,” said Chase, “what happened to your face?” Reaching out, he gently touched the redness. Mya looked like she might cry, so he wrapped his muscular arms around her and pulled her into a protective hug.

“Paris happened,” she sniffed as the second elevator door opened and Paris stepped out.

“What did you do to her face?” asked Vic.

“Come over here, and I’ll show you,” said Paris. Vic looked like he wanted to strangle her. She loved egging him on. She watched as he took an angry step toward her, his muscles twitching. Chase immediately put his five-foot-seven frame between them, holding up his arms. Paris stuck her chin out at him, then turning on her heel, she scurried away.

Mya looked up at Vic. His jaw set and muscles tensed. “It’s not worth it. What would you do, anyway?”

“I should lay her out,” he said through gritted teeth. “She deserves it.”

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