Brightly Burning Bridges by Ivy Wild
Present
I turnedthe business card over and over again in my hand, hoping that an answer of whether I should accept Silas’ offer would somehow materialize on the little piece of cardstock. I wasn’t a fool. I’d accepted an offer from Silas in the past and it had not worked out well for me.
That was an understatement.
It had been a disaster.
One of those long term types.
I should have just told him to sue me over the vase and let it be that. But instead, I’d gotten caught up in one of the many tangled webs he weaved through life.
I let my head fall off the edge of my vintage leather couch, my silver hair falling around me. I put the card down to pull a few strands closer to my eyes and grimaced. I was always a box hair dye sort of girl. When I was a kid, we didn’t have money to pay for things like hair dye or makeup.
It wasn’t my mom’s fault that her salary was mostly in the form of rent plus food money. And for most high schoolers, that would have been fine. Unfortunately, I required a bit more upkeep to not draw stares.
I still remembered the first time I’d collected enough spare change to buy all the crap that’s required to dye your hair yourself. No one tells you that you need more than just the five dollar box. You need gloves, Tupperware, plastic brushes, developer, and a bathroom you don’t care about.
My first attempt I’d tried to go dark. Like, full brunette dark and what a mistake that had been. I looked like a worse version of Christina Aguilara during her “Dirrty” phase. And the original was pretty bad so . . . yeah.
I eventually learned to keep it on the lighter side and when the silver hair trend caught on, I jumped onto that train faster than a hooker in sketchers. But the silver was starting to fade and my true non-color was showing through.
I picked Silas’ card back up. Depending on what he paid me, I might be able to justify going to a salon for the first time in my life. I didn’t know if I’d enjoy spending $120 and two hours to do something that should cost ten and thirty minutes, but I at least wanted the option.
I turned over onto my back, holding the card above my head. I looked at my watch. T minus fifty until my forty-eight hours to decide ran out. Which was a bullshit move of him to give me a time limit. What was it to him if I decided now or on Monday?
I hated going back on my rules. It was something I prided myself in. And after everything that had happened, I’d promised myself I would practice safe distance and safe speed from a man named Silas at all times. And his proposal would have me barreling into him at Mach 6.
My phone vibrated on the other side of the couch and I crawled over to it. Deep down I knew it wasn’t Silas, but a small part of me I thought I’d murdered ten years ago was silently hoping it was him.
“Hey mom,” I said, answering the phone, thankful for the distraction from the traitorous part of my heart.
“Just checking in on my favorite chica.”
I grimaced. My mother never just “checked in” with good news. “Everything okay, mom?”
“Mr. Tompkins passed,” she said slowly, sadness coating her voice. My mother had been helping care for an elderly man for the past seven years. She’d found the job after Mr. Touper, Sr. had passed away. Mr. Tompkins had been one of her first clients in a long time that hadn’t been in danger of imminently passing away. But he’d lost his wife the year before and daily chores had proven too difficult for him. Like a lot of folks in the suburbs of D.C., he had a spare apartment he rented out above his garage and my mother had been living there all this time.
It broke my heart to hear he passed away. I’d met him on a few occasions. He was a sweet man and I think he was as good for my mom as she was for him.
“I’m so sorry, mom,” I replied. The silence stretched between us, both of us knowing the uncomfortable truth. “Do you have anything else lined up?”
I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. “Not yet. His passing was rather sudden. I guess I just hadn’t . . . ” Her words trailed off and my heart broke for her.
“I understand, mom.”
She was trying to be strong and not let me hear her cry. Us Jackson women were proud to a fault.
“His family said I’m welcome to stay in the apartment until I find new work. But, I’ll need to pay them rent.”
I grimaced. Market rent for an apartment like hers in Rockville, Maryland was easily going to run her $1500 a month, if not more. I wasn’t sure my mother had anything close to that. I closed my hand around Silas’ business card. The thick parchment was unyielding and the corners all but cut into my palms.
“I can help, mom,” I finally said.
“Oh, honey, no. I couldn’t ask that of you. I know you have enough to worry about. I’ll figure something out.” This was the game her and I played. She called, I offered, she refused and I insisted.
“It’s alright. I’m starting a new job soon. It pays a lot better.” The words felt thick in my throat.
“Oh, mi cielo, why didn’t you tell me?”
“It just happened.” At least I wasn’t lying to her.
“Well, if you’re sure,” she said with hesitation in her voice.
“I am, mom. Can you hold on until Monday?”
“Sí. Gracias vida mía,” she said, slipping back into her Spanish because I knew she was excited.
“De nada, mama. I have to let you go, though. I need to make a call.”
We both said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone and let myself fall down on the couch. I gave myself precisely ten minutes to have a personal pity party before getting up, cracking open a beer from the fridge and placing my phone and the black business card on my counter.
I’d asked for a sign from God. Unfortunately, all he’d done was send me the devil.
Taking a long swig, I dialed the number and waited for my own personal hell to begin. As the rings stretched on, I sent up another silent prayer that maybe it would just go to voicemail. But, it seemed like someone upstairs was laughing at me.
“Silas Jenkins.” He answered the phone just like a businessman. Starting off the conversation with his name, just so everyone was clear what the topic was.
“Silas? It’s Sky,” I said, shrinking in on myself. I suddenly felt like I was back to high school me.
Timid.
Afraid.
Uncertain.
I hated it and I didn’t know why I was acting this way. Of all the people I should feel most comfortable around, it was oddly Silas. But sometimes when you open yourself up to someone in a way you never have before and things fall apart, you end up closing yourself up even more, just to compensate.
“Sky . . . Sky . . . Skyler, ah yes.”
I rolled my eyes at his attempt to pretend like he didn’t recognize me.
“How can I help you?”
“I’ll take the job,” I said, my words clipped.
“And what job is that?”
His tone was goading and I idly wondered what horrible dictator I’d been in a past life to deserve this sort of punishment.
“The Executive Assistant job, Silas. Can we dispense with the nonsense, please?”
He chuckled. “Right. Thanks for jogging my memory.”
“We need to talk details,” I said, recognizing we hadn’t agreed on a salary or job description.
“Good thing I’m in the neighborhood. I assume you’re not doing anything, because it’s a Friday night.”
It was an order as much as it was a statement. And it definitely was not a question. Oh yes, working for Silas was certainly going to be a special sort of hell.
“Silas, now really isn’t . . .” I started to say but he stepped on my words.
“Now is what works for me. So, it works for you. That’s how this works, Skyler. You assist me, not the other way around.”
I pursed my lips at the derision in his voice. “I have to head to a shift at the Pancake,” I lied through grit teeth.
“Call them and cancel. You’ll be quitting that job, anyways.”
“What?!” I exclaimed. “I can’t just do that!”
“I guess you don’t want the job then, is that it? You’d rather be a waitress the rest of your life?”
I was biting down so hard I was surprised I hadn’t cracked a tooth. “No. It’s fine.”
“Good.”
The call ended abruptly and before I even had a chance to comprehend what had just happened, my doorbell rang. “What the—” I muttered, making my way to the door, fearing the worst.
I looked through the peephole and my nightmare was confirmed. Silas was standing on the other side, looking stunning in a crisp black shirt with gray trousers, contrasting his wavy blond locks perfectly.
I groaned, realizing that my outfit consisted of patterned leggings with a rip on the inner thigh (because thigh gaps past the age of twenty are fake news), a black ribbed cropped tank that showed a bit too much skin and faded silver hair piled high on the top of my head. All in all, I looked about as good as a Lindsay Lohan mug shot.
“Open the door, Skyler.” His smooth voice seeped between the cracks in the wooden casing and I sincerely hoped I had my defenses up high enough so it wouldn’t seep into me.
I stood there, with my hand on the lever, pretending like I had some choice in this situation. But I clearly didn’t. And he knew it. For the second time in my life, I opened the door to Silas Jenkins. I only hoped this time I was better prepared.
He didn’t stride into the space like he owned it. He didn’t do any of the cliché things I thought he would. He was simply standing in the hallway, a light smile on his features like always, swiping this way and that on his phone.
“I swear to God, if you are on Tinder right now, I will straight up murder you.” I didn’t know why I said it. I shouldn’t care if Silas was on Tinder or Grinder or whatever else people who had time used to hookup nowadays. Shields up, Sky, I reminded myself.
He looked up from his phone, a smirk forming on his beautiful jawline. “We’re going to have to talk about the way you address your boss, Ms. Jackson.”
I rolled my eyes at my new reality of Silas Jenkins being my boss. “Are you in or out?”
“I’m simply waiting for your invitation,” he replied coolly.
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice.”
He tucked his phone into his pocket and fixed me with his chestnut stare. “We all have choices in life, Ms. Jackson. Talking to me is a choice. Opening the door was a choice. Accepting my offer was a choice. Deny it all you want, but every choice you make is a result of you balancing your desires against your disgusts. And in the end, your desires won out.”
I felt sick. The way Silas made it sound like I desired him . . . hit far too close to the mark. Fucking shields UP, I had to remind myself again.
“So, you’re saying I don’t have to invite you inside?”
Silas sighed, his hands in his pocket, looking like a GQ model. “Of course not. But all choices have consequences. So, if we’re not able to sort out the details of your employment tonight, perhaps I meet someone else tomorrow I think would fit the job description better.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Someone who doesn’t threaten to murder me, perhaps.”
I grit my teeth and looked down at the floor. “Won’t you come in?” I muttered.
“How generous of you,” he almost mocked in response.
He breezed past me and a fresh wave of Armani’s Acqua di Gio cologne surrounded me like a tornado of broken memories. It was the same scent he wore in high school. His signature, he’d claimed back then. I hated how much I loved the scent on him, even still. For most people, a scent like that, after everything that had happened between us and after, would probably make them want to hurl. But, for the past ten years, I’d been avoiding entering any mall through a Macy’s perfume department. Not because the scent made me sick, but because it made me weak.
I closed the door and leaned against it, trying to keep as far away from him as possible. He was leaning against my kitchen counter, acting as if this was just another business meeting. And who knows? For him, maybe it was.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I forced myself to ask. I reminded myself that I was about to be negotiating my salary with a man who had a reputation for driving difficult bargains off the sides of cliffs. The least I could do was not threaten to murder him—again.
“No, thank you,” he replied, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. “I didn’t plan on staying long.”
I let out a sigh of relief and dared to move into the room, still trying to keep my distance from him and his scent. He moved towards me and I instinctively backed up. He chuckled and shook his head. “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to get rid of that habit of yours, Ms. Jackson. I expect us to be working together . . . intimately.”
I couldn’t stop my face from scrunching at his words. A deep chuckle left his chest and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Silas, please don’t tell me this is all some joke.”
He shook his head, his blond hair catching the low lights in the room. “It’s not a joke, Sky,” he said. “I’ve been told I’m very much in need of assistance and the universe just put you in my path.”
I twisted my lips, opting not to say anything about that. Because if I did say anything, it would probably be something along the lines of wondering why the universe would decide to put me in the path of a runaway freight train.
Silas rounded the sofa and took a seat, crossing one long leg over the other. He fixed me with his chestnut stare and gestured that I should sit, as well. Somehow, he seemed more comfortable in my own apartment than I did. I complied, begrudgingly, sitting as far away from him as the sofa would allow.
He gave me his award winning smile before leaning back and resting his hand across the back cushion. “Have you ever been an assistant before?”
I smiled coyly. “Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?” His voice was light, but I knew Silas too well to let that put me at ease.
“I previously served as an Assignments Assistant,” I explained and he raised an eyebrow.
“And what were your responsibilities in that role?”
“Oh, you know, managing my client’s assignments, tracking due dates, ensuring quality work was submitted in a timely manner to the proper party.”
He was smiling. “Well, then it sounds like you’ve got the requisite experience. What a great opportunity you were given.”
I brought my lips together and nodded. “Given my extensive experience, I’ll expect adequate compensation.”
“I can assure you that the compensation package I offer is more than adequate.” He paused. “It even comes with extra benefits, should you desire them.”
His innuendos weren’t lost on me and neither was his use of the word “desire.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Feel free to elaborate.”
“You’re no fun,” he said in a chiding voice, obviously disappointed I hadn’t taken the bait.
“I wasn’t aware salary negotiations were supposed to be fun.”
He shook his head. “They are. Getting to see people squirm and fluster over something as simple as green paper? How could that not be fun?”
I closed my eyes and tried to calm the rage that was building inside of me. When I felt like I could finally trust myself to respond, I fixed him with an exasperated stare. “Some people squirm and fluster over green paper because they didn’t fall into a giant pile of it at birth.” I scrunched my face. I hadn’t meant to say that last part.
He shrugged. “So, what about you, Sky? How much green paper do you think you deserve to be my Executive Assistant?”
I snorted. “All of it.”
He laughed. “You just might be right about that.”
I fought the urge to smile at his admission. It was good to know he understood he was somewhat of an asshole.
“But seeing as I don’t have all of it, we’ll have to compromise. What’s your offer?”
I hesitated. “Are you really going to make me quit the Pancake?”
He looked me up and down and I tried to repress the shiver that ran through me. “Why? Do you like it there so much?”
Of course I didn’t. No one my age liked serving bratty Northwest teenagers breakfast at 3 p.m. But it was a steady job I’d been able to rely on no matter what. “I’d rather not give it up entirely,” I finally admitted.
“Why?”
I rolled my eyes at him and he smirked. “I’m just curious why you’d want to keep a job you don’t particularly like.”
“I never said I didn’t like it,” I pointed out.
“No, but you never said you did like it. And if you did like it, that’s something you would have said.” He looked entirely pleased with himself. “So, why do you not want to give it up.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “Because when whatever-this-is,” I said, gesturing wildly to the space between us, “inevitably dissolves, I don’t want to be left with nothing.”
“Were you planning on quitting on me?”
I shook my head. “Not planning on it, no.”
“Then there’s no need to worry about being left with nothing. I’m not going to fire you and you’re not going to quit. So, you’ll have something. Leaving you free to exit the Pancake.”
“Are you really going to make me?”
Silas was starting to look bored and that was a bad sign. When he got bored, he turned mean. “I can’t make you do anything, Skyler. I told you that before. Life is all about choices. Your choices. So choose.”
“Fine. But, if I’m not going to be able to work at the Pancake, I’m going to need a higher salary from you to make up the difference,” I pointed out.
He waved my comment off. “Yes, yes. Please dispense with your paper thin attempts to extort me and just name your price.”
I tried to think of what would be reasonable for a position like this, plus at least a twenty percent misery tax for having to deal with Silas. “I want sixty thousand a year,” I said, trying to be as firm as possible. “And two weeks paid leave.”
“You’ll get one hundred thousand a year, thirty days of paid leave, and you’ll be moving into the condo below mine free of charge. I don’t want to have to traipse my way to Northwest every time I need something from you.”
I nearly choked on the air around me at his offer. There was no fucking way I was going to live beneath him. Being beneath Silas—period—was not something I would agree to. And as tempting as it was to accept so much money, I also didn’t want to be his indentured servant—again.
“Eighty thousand and I stay here. I like this place. It’s been my home for a long time. Besides, I’ll need separation from you. That I know.”
His lips twisted and I couldn’t tell if he was getting bored, angry or having fun. Probably a combination of all three. “Buck ten and you move to an apartment I own in Georgetown.”
“Ninety and I stay here.” I crossed my arms and tried to give him my best attempt at a serious face.
His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “Careful, Ms. Jackson. Keep arguing with me and I’ll insist that you live with me for nothing less than one-twenty.”
I chewed on my nail in front of him, trying to debate what to do. I had no idea what Silas had been up to this past decade, but I very much doubted I had more negotiating experience than him. Even if I agreed to live in one of his buildings, there was nothing forcing me to give up the loft. And at the paycheck he was claiming he’d pay me, I’d have enough to still cover the rent. And if mom never managed to find a place, I could always move her in here to hold her over.
“Fine,” I said, meeting his intrigued gaze. “Eighty and I move into one of your apartments in Georgetown.”
He smiled and nodded his head. “Excellent. It’s settled then, a buck even and you’ll live in Georgetown.”
I shook my head. “Silas, that’s not what we agreed.”
He gave me a confused look. “Why are you refusing a higher salary?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything,” I said proudly. “One hundred grand to be an Executive Assistant—” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“Is perfectly reasonable in Washington, D.C. I know paralegals that make that and don’t do half the work. Honestly, Skyler. Stop devaluing yourself.”
I bit my lower lip and folded my legs under me. Silas’ eyes darted to my inner thigh and before I had a chance to ream him for it, he spoke.
“It looks like even your wardrobe has seen better days.” He cocked his head towards the rip in my leggings and I curled in on myself further. “And patterned leggings went out of fashion around the same time people stopped wearing LIVESTRONG bracelets. It might be time for an update.”
I glared at him and stayed silent. I wasn’t going to respond to his taunting.
He shrugged off my mood and stood. “Take the money, Skyler. Consider it a signing bonus.”
I pursed my lips but made the smallest of nods. Another victory for Silas over me. The score was heavily one-sided at this point.
“Well, I’m glad we got that settled,” he said, standing up. I followed him with my eyes as he made his way to the door. “Be at the address on my card at nine tomorrow morning.”
My eyes widened. “On a Saturday?”
“Problem?”
I blinked my eyes a few times. I don’t know why I assumed working for Silas would be like a normal office job. “Uh, no. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” The words were heavy but I forced them out.
“Good night, Skyler,” he said, turning to leave before I had a chance to respond.
