Page 22 of Serena
“Sure. I’m starving.”
She orders a fruity little drink, and I order a bottle of water. Maggie loves her office gossip. It’s funny considering she’s the person who gets the complaints.
“So, how are you doing working with Mr. Kayde?” she asks between bites of her chicken sandwich. The question catches me off guard. Because the truth is, I’ve thought about him more than I'm comfortable admitting, and I hate him for it.
“Oh, it’s going well. Things have been busy with all the changes, so we don’t really interact unless needed.”
“He seems tough.” She raises her finger to the waiter and points to her drink. Silently requesting another one.
“He’s always walking around making sure people are doing their job. I understand, but he makes everyone on the floor nervous. They don’t want to get moved like the rest of the team.”
“Maggie, it was hardly a move; they went downstairs.” I can't help but roll my eyes. “It’s not like they moved to a different state.”
Taking a sip of her new drink, she adds, “Well, I’ve heard things from his other office. You know we all talk.” I can see the drinks are getting to her. “I heard a couple of months ago, he was on a call that didn’t go well. The next thing you know, he’s breaking things around his office.” She leans forward and whispers, like it’s our little secret. “The whole office was destroyed. He didn’t come back to work for almost a week.”
Ian can be intense and demanding, but violent? Then again, I think about his warnings, but I know more than most how cruel people can be. Given the chance, I’d hurt those who hurt me because time doesn’t heal all wounds. The living hunt you without you even knowing you are the prey.
We move on, and she catches me up on all the latest office gossip. I really have been living under a rock. I had no idea half of this stuff was going on. From Jacob’s constantly complaining about not getting my job to the latest coupling in the office. Even Selma, since no one knows much about her. She’s a hard one to read; no wonder she’s Ian’s assistant.
The audit is scheduled to be completed tomorrow morning, so we’ll be heading back home earlier than expected. I'm not ready to leave. A thought comes to mind. “Maggie, I have a question for you.”
What startedas a work trip turned into a weekend getaway alone. After getting the approval from my new friend Maggie, I decided to stay back and have some time to myself. I look at my bandaged hand and remind myself that I need this. The past week has been too much. I haven’t felt like this in years, like I’m being unraveled and losing the control I so desperately cling to.
My mother called, but I decided it was best that I didn’t talk to her for now, given what happened after our last conversation. I take a look at my luggage—shit, there isn’t much I can wear since my stay was a last-minute decision. It seems like I need to do some shopping, which is my worst-case scenario.
Walking through downtown Santa Barbara, the weather is beautiful; it’s sunny with a breeze. When I inhale, I can smell the ocean, taste the salty water. I don’t realize how long I’ve been walking until my stomach starts to grumble, so I make my way into the first restaurant I see. I’m not picky when it comes to food.
The only seating available is at the bar. I hate sitting alone at the bar, but I’m starving. I find a comfortable spot facing the patio. The menu offers a selection of Mediterranean cuisine, and the coastal decor reflects the location perfectly. The bartender comes and takes my order, then moves to the couple beside me. They’re a young couple who seem to be college students; they look so in love.
I turn my attention to the bartender again, who’s moving around the bar like it’s her domain. She’s taller than me, but not by much. Her dark hair is up in a ponytail, bouncing as she moves around. I see her put together the ingredients for a cocktail, and she notices me watching, so she comes over.
“Would you like a mojito?” she asks.
“No, I'm good with my drinks.” She looks at my bottled water and seltzer.Only one,I told myself when I ordered the alcohol.
“That’s hardly a drink.” She looks down at my raspberry-flavored spritzer. Silently judging me.
“I’m not much of an open container drinker.” I don’t know this woman, and I won’t ever see her again, so why not just share?
“Bad experience.” I lift my hair and turn to the right so she can see the evidence. She extends her hand out.
“I’m Ruby.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Serena.” I go to shake her hand but remember it's bandaged. She looks at it, raising her brows.
“I cut my hand while cooking. Not only do I have poor taste in drinks, but I can't cook,” I lie.
“What brings you in?”
“Visiting—a work trip that turned into a solo trip.”
“Those are the best.”
I don’t know if she believes me or not, but she moves on. “Well, Serena, I make the best mojito. I’d hate for you to miss out on the experience. So, how about this?” She moves around the bar and grabs a bottle of rum, what looks like mint, lime, and other ingredients. She places all of them in front of me. She hands me the bottle of rum. “I want you to look at the bottle cap. Touch it.” I do as she instructs. “Okay, do you feel the seal on it?” I nod. Realizing what she’s doing. “Okay, here is the soda water.” I check the seal. “I’m going to open and start mixing. Then, I’m going to leave the bottles right here with you. So, if you decide you want another drink, I’ll use the same bottles. Think about it as your own personal bar.”
I’m speechless because, other than my friends, no one has done this for me. Sure, I go out, but I’m always limited with what I drink. I don’t trust others. Ruby seems to notice the effectthis is having on me because she gives me a sympathetic smile, reaches for my hand, and squeezes it.
“Thank you, Ruby.” She then gets to work, mixing everything together.
