Page 4 of Hugo
Besides, he could have any woman he wanted. Why would he settle for me? Chubby. Fat. Plain. Nothing like all the models and superstars that no doubt throw themselves at him.
“I was just asking,” he says, “how much money you think I should donate to the center?”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. I don’t have a clue. It’s only my first day. Before now the most I’ve ever given to a charity is a hundred dollars. “Ten thousand dollars?” I ask, hoping I hadn’t said an amount that’s too much.
“I think we can do better than that.”
Lisa’s face lights up. She clenches her hands in front of her tummy.
“Twenty thousand?”
“No, Claire,” Hugo says. “More.”
I look from Hugo to Lisa and then around at the room full of veterans going about their business. My palms are sweating. I don't know how much money this place needs. How much it costs to keep the electricity running. The staff paid. How much it would cost to get some of the equipment replaced. “A hundred thousand?”
Hugo pulls his checkbook from his pocket. He takes the cap off an expensive-looking pen. Lisa and I both watch as he writes the all too important numbers and words on the little rectangular sheet of paper.
“I was thinking something more in the line of…”
He hands the check to Lisa, smiling.
“A million dollars?” She stumbles backward. Hugo leaps to her aid, catching her before she falls.
He helps her to the nearest chair. She looks down at the check in her hands and then at Hugo and she does that a few more times. Her mouth opens and shuts like a goldfish. Tears stream down her cheeks until eventually, she grabs Hugo's hands, and she says, “thank you” and then she pulls him close and hugs him and says, “thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea what this means. How much we can do with this. The lives we can change. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you. You wonderful, kind man.”
I brush my own tears from my cheek. Hugo disengages from Lisa and turns to me.
“Claire, you’re going to be our liaison. It’s your job to make sure these heroes get exactly what they need. I think your personal history makes you exactly the right candidate for the job. I know you’ll fight for them. Every single day. Tirelessly.” He steps closer, taking my hands in his. I crane my neck and look up into his face.
“I won’t let you down.”
“No,” he says. “I don’t expect you will.”
4
Hugo
The helicopter touchesdown on the roof of my skyscraper. It’s sunset. The moon is to my left and beside it, low to the ground, is the huge, orange sun. Purple and pink clouds stream across the darkening sky.
I take a moment to drink in the beauty of my surroundings as we land. Then I climb out and run, crouched, to the side of the helipad. The air is a cacophony of wind and engine noise.
“You look like shit,” Brad yells at me. “Good weekend?”
“Long weekend,” I yell back. Most people aren’t allowed to talk to me like that, but Brad is an exception. He’s been with me since the beginning. Back when I was just a geeky software engineer building my first company. He was the first person to believe in me, other than my parents. And if it wasn’t for him, I would never be where I am now. “Glad to be back home.”
“And we’re glad to have you back.”
We rush to the door and step inside. The noise instantly disappears. It takes a moment for my ears to readjust.
I crack my neck from side to side. Roll my shoulders. Even though I travel in absolute luxury, it doesn’t mean I don’t get achy and stiff.
“Why don’t you go home?” Brad asks. “Get yourself some rest? We have everything under control here.”
I look at him out the corner of my eye. We’re walking towards the elevator. I don’t so much as slow down. “How long have we known each other?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grins. “I know. You’re a workaholic. You’d just go home and think about things you need to be doing. You’re physically incapable of switching off. But, I’m just trying to look out for you.” He places his hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him. He really is a good friend. “You can’t keep on like this, Hugo. It’s not healthy. Don’t you think it’s time to slow down a little? We’re not twenty anymore.”
“I hope you’re not calling me old,” I smirk.
