Page 13 of The Fool

I sneer at his retreating back, eyeing him with disdain as he saunters back to his table, acting the life and soul for his friends, which now includesmyfriend. He smiles, laughs, and charms them all without effort, and yet, I only ever get the straight-laced miserable son of a bitch boss who has just whipped my friend away from right under my nose. I thought I’d left high school behind years ago, but here I am, sitting all alone, with my best friend having been commandeered by the cool kids, while the mean bully continues to make my life hell.

Thankfully, it’s not long before Ben walks in wearing his biker gear and with his helmet perched firmly underneath his arm. As he begins marching up to me, together with a gruff look on his face, Nathaniel and his cronies begin walking out. Ben doesn’t notice, except to acknowledge them when they pass by one another. Though, Nathaniel definitely seems to notice my brother. In fact, he hovers by the door for a few moments, taking in the scene of Ben coming up to ruffle my hair with brotherly affection, aka, siblings trying to annoy the hell out of one another. Unlike me, Ben is super tall, so people often assume we’re a couple. The look on Nathaniel’s face is peculiar, to say the least, but it somewhat pleases me to know that whatever it is, he’s clearly not impressed.Good, fuck you, Nathaniel Carter!

Nate

I am not often left speechless, but Beatrice Summers has indeed rendered me lost for words. Of course, I never expected to see her in a pretentious place like the one I just left, for you have to be earning a heck of a lot more than she is paid to afford an entrée, let alone a full-blown dinner. That might well sound arrogant, but it’s true. My family certainly wouldn’t have dined here before Cameron made it big. But her talking to Finn soon cleared up that conundrum. No, the thing that made me question my usual assessment of her character is the way she was dressed. I seriously expected her to always dress in her prim and proper cardigan sets, with a set of pearls and a tight updo to match. Instead, she was sporting a pair of ripped jeans and a leather jacket that looked like it’d been well worn. Her hair was down and flowing almost to her ass, which, though it pains me to say, was quite a delectable sight.

Then there was her boyfriend who looked like a blond Viking, dressed to pillage the local village and ride off with the damsel in distress. I would not have put them together in a million years; surely, she should be with a preppy guy named Chad or Wilson who likes to go glamping or attend murder mystery weekends.

“Nate, you coming?” Lucia asks me from outside. I can’t even tear my eyes away for long enough to answer her, I’m too fixated on this strange turn of events.

“Yeah, you go ahead,” I tell her over my shoulder, “I’m just…”

I trail off, mesmerized by the Viking who is now messing with Bea’s hair. I wouldn’t say I feel mad about the scene, but not exactly happy about it either. A hand soon slides over my shoulder while I try to work out what this weird feeling is; it’s unsettling that I’m feeling anything at all about it. Why should I care about some mountain of a man putting his hands all over my PA? She’s smiling about it, even nudging him back. I should only feel indifferent about it, shouldn’t I?

“She’s very pretty, do you know her?” Lucia purrs inside my ear, then giggles when I shake, then nod my head.

“She’s my PA, that’s all,” I murmur, still staring at Bea.

“And, of course, you are simply making sure she is ok,” she says, though her voice sounds teasing. “After all, as a member of staff, you are somewhat responsible for her, no?”

“No, I…” I turn to face Lucia, a stunning ex-model from Paris. We’ve dabbled, but she’s like me, keeps it wild and friendly, nothing more. She’s grinning at me like she knows something I don’t. I shake my head with my own laugh this time, silently telling her not to even think that my watching Bea could be anything more than simple curiosity.

“You are absolutely right, Lucia, I am merely looking out for her wellbeing,” I tell her as I begin walking out, though it feels uncomfortable to do so, as though I’ve left my phone or wallet behind.

“Of course, I am always right,” she says smugly as she links her arm through mine. “It’s a good thing she has a handsome man with her to keep her safe, otherwise you might have to do the unthinkable and escort her back home, maybe even tuck her up in bed.”

“You are too naughty for your own good, Lucia,” I laugh. “Put that woman to bed?” I theatrically shiver with a fake grimace to make her laugh even harder. “Thank God that doesn’t have to happen.”

Chapter 5

Bea

At six am, the morning after Nathaniel had so easily convinced my best friend to ditch me, I shuffle down to the parking lot where Leah helps me to put on the spare helmet to her Suzuki V-Strom, otherwise known as her pride and joy. Motorbikes and grime were how she and Ben bonded, back when they were at college. After everything happened, when I was eighteen, I moved into this apartment with Ben. It took a lot of convincing to get me to go outside, so Ben said I could go anywhere I wanted and promised not to leave my side. I immediately thought of a huge bike store where Ben liked to go and spend his hard-earned cash. The smell of leather, motorbike parts, and various oils was nostalgic and put me at ease. Afterward, we went to a vintage, second-hand shop where Ben pulled out an old leather jacket that he’d had his eye on for me. He promised to teach me how to ride. I always wanted to be like him, to be a motorbike nut, but I guess driving one wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I quickly decided it wasn’t for me and given how I had very nearly written off Ben’s bike, he agreed. Instead, I always wear the jacket whenever I ride on the back with either him or Leah firmly in the driving seat.

I’d shoved on a pair of old jeans and some flat, ankle books, making sure I was casual and comfortable. I knew we’d be traveling all day, so comfort was a priority. Besides, the email from Cameron Carter said to not bother wearing workwear for we weren’t going to be meeting with anyone today.

So, why do I feel so out of place and nervous about Nathaniel and the other guys from work seeing me like this? Why do I feel so naked in this outfit? Where is my usual mask?

I begin worrying about it all while Leah and I ride along the straight monotonous roads that are virtually empty. It’s early and the sun is still rising in the clear blue sky; it’s going to be another hot, still day. As we approach the airport, I focus my attention on the planes that are taking off and landing, their thunderous engines roaring through the air. I haven’t traveled much by plane, but air crafts do fascinate me, from the outside anyway. They remind me of escaping and leaving all my troubles behind. Inside, however, they’re little metal tubes full of recycled air and hours of boredom, trapping you in with strangers – lovers, siblings, families, cheaters, bullies, possibly homicidal maniacs – the possibilities are endless.

We pull up outside of the ‘Departures’ building where I can already see the oh, so happy, smiling face of my employer, Nathaniel Carter. He’s standing next to a genuinely cheerful Sam and the handsome Nick Clayton, who is looking the epitome of suave and trendy. All three of them are wearing sunglasses to shield their eyes from the punishing rays of the rising sun. They soon glance over at the sound of Leah’s bike with its impressive roar amongst the early morning silence. They quickly look away again, not for one second suspecting it would be me riding on the back of a beautiful machine like this one. Leah brings her love to a stop and switches the engine off before raising her visor.

“You ok, Bea? Or do you need help?” she calls out. I’m already dismounting, getting ready to pull off my helmet, so shake my head with a reassuring, ‘I’m fine’ slipping through my lips.

“Are they your colleagues?” she asks, jutting her chin out toward the three of them, who are now taking more note of us. I guess biker chicks can have a bit of a reputation, one they seem more than interested to explore.

“Yep,” I reply through my helmet.

“Which one is dick face?” she asks, making me smile.

“The one with the black shirt on, in the middle,” I reply as quietly as I can.

“Well, at least he’s pretty to look at,” she giggles. “Do me a favor and flip your hair when you remove your helmet.”

“What?! I’m not flipping my damn hair!” I huff as I fumble around in my bag, trying to retrieve my passport so I can just hand it over. The last thing I want to do is keep his royal highness waiting, he’d probably make an example of me right in front of an airport full of people.

“Just do it, I want to see his reaction. Call it payment for the lift.” I groan before giving in and pulling the helmet off, only to end up doing less of a flip and more of an anxious shake. I feel completely ridiculous and self-conscious, especially knowing that he’s watching me.

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