The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante
Chapter Thirty-Nine
BRANDON
The more desperate I become to talk to her, the more she seems to avoid me.
The next day at work, I put my head down and get on with things. I’m curious to know how the committee meeting went, but I’m also fearful that something I say might give me away. So, I don’t ask anything.
Simona is away for a week, because she is celebrating a big birthday and she and her family have gone away.
Needing to resolve the divide between us, I consider booking dinner for us, somewhere nice, not too swanky, but somewhere funky and cool, which I think she might appreciate. Somewhere that I’m not likely to run into any business associates. But, as much as I’d love to take her to dinner, I have a feeling that she won’t agree. The chance of getting Kyra to come anywhere with me, let alone give me the time of day, is an impossibility.
I need to get through to her, and I am determined that it is today. This can’t fester any longer.
The clock ticks, tension ratcheting up by the second. When Fredrich leaves, I snatch my chance. Kyra hasn’t looked my way once. She hasn’t spoken properly to me in days. I clear my throat.
“Long day, huh?”
She glances at me for one second, before tapping on her keyboard, her eyes fixated on her screen.
I take my cue, and my courage, wondering how the tables have turned and our roles have switched. How is it that I’m the one being anxious around her? I never used to care whether I had upset someone before.
“I’ve booked dinner.”
Her brows push together, the first indication I have that she’s not as calm as she’s making out.
“For us,” I add.
This earns me an icy stare. “You booked dinner? For us?” she spits out, as if I’ve presented her with a search warrant.
“I want to make it up to you, after the last time … I have things I need to tell you.”
“You want to take me out to dinner to make up for it?”
“You know I do. Give me a chance to explain.”
“Ecuador,” she volleys at me.
I quirk a brow. “What about it?”
“You told me that you helped out on some community projects in El Salvador when I first interviewed you, and when I asked you yesterday, you said it was Ecuador.”
I scoff, then shrug for added nonchalance. I had a feeling I might have messed up. That was sneaky of her to ask me again, but I would have done the same thing if I had been in her shoes and some slimy son of a bitch had turned up at my company. I would have had a private detective shadowing her by now.
She’s gone easy on me. “So?” I feign indignance. “It’s an easy enough mistake to make.”
“They’re two different places more than a thousand miles apart.”
“My friend is in the hospital, these last few weeks haven’t been easy, you and I have been on a rollercoaster journey, and you’re picking on me because I said the wrong country name?”
She blinks, clearly not expecting this reply from me. Emboldened, I spew more of my pity.
“Do you know how hard it’s been for me?”
She’s about to frown again, but I’ve done the Jedi mind trick and turned it around. She’s now questioning her logic and it takes the attention off me, but I feel wretched for being such a snake.
“Are you married?” she throws back.
The absurdity of this makes me chuckle. “Married? No. Is that what you think?”
“I don’t have anything else to go on, given your scheming and lying. You’re not who you claim you are.”
“I know you have questions, Kyra. I want to give you answers. That’s why I booked dinner. It’s not to wine and dine you, it’s to get out of here and have somewhere to talk, someplace civil where you can’t shout and scream at me.”
“You think I’d just happily trot off to have dinner with you? After what you did?” Her face flushes, as her voice and temper rise.
She scans the door, catching herself. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. The last thing I want to do is to sit down and have dinner with you. I would rather choke.”
I walk over to her desk. “I’m not married, and I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t been married before and I have no exes lurking in the background.”
The lines on her forehead relax, but her narrowed eyes still regard me with the suspicion I deserve. My intentions are always to tell her. But when she looks at me, through me, inside me, the way she does now, delving deeper and deeper into my psyche, I balk. Because when she knows, she will never want to talk to me again.
“Then why do you jump every time Emma needs you?”
I can’t answer that question, but maybe I can get rid of her suspicions. I grab her hand. “Come with me.” I hold out my hand.
“I don’t want to go to dinner with you.”
“It’s not dinner. I need you to meet someone.” What I’m doing is bold, and wrong, for Emma, but it’s time I did the right thing by Kyra. “I want you to meet Emma.” I hate to throw this on her, and the only reason I’m pushing for it is because Emma suggested it. It should at least convince Kyra that I am not a love cheat.
I expect her to say no, but when she says, “Okay,” I have no choice but to keep my word.
* * *
KYRA
It’s not right, him asking me to go to the hospital with him to meet this ‘Emma’, so that he can prove that she is not his girlfriend. I feel as if I almost know this woman, because we’ve talked about her more than a few times and I know a lot about her. She probably knows nothing about me.
I should have declined his invitation, but I’m not sure I know who Brad is, and going along with his suggestion is the only way that I will come to know the truth.
He drives us to the hospital. The car ride is fraught with tension as thick and as heavy as the steam in a sauna turned up too high.
We have been on a rollercoaster ride. Embarrassment and shame have blanketed these last few times I’ve had to face him at work. This evening will put an end to my suspicions.
I hope.
As we make our way up in the elevator, my breath hitches in my throat. This is wrong. So very wrong. This woman has been in a really bad car accident. A near-fatal accident, and Brad is taking me, a complete stranger, to meet her.
We’ve come this far, and I’m tempted to say ‘Stop!’ This is enough. I believe him already. It must be true. She’s here and recovering, and she’s not his lover. He is single, and he isn’t the monster I’ve made him out to be.
I’m about to tell him that we don’t have to do this, when the elevator doors open and he strides out with me in tow.
I follow him, then take a step back when he talks to the nurses at the reception desk. They seem to know him, which fills me with confidence. This isn’t a trick. He isn’t lying. He’s not hiding anything. This is enough.
“Come on,” he says when I stand there, debating on this insane turn of events. I hesitate, but only for a few seconds, then follow him. He stops by a door, looks through the window and knocks. My anxiety soars, and my heartbeat spikes.
“Are you… are you sure about this?” I manage to say. My mouth is dry, and I’m left wondering about the stupidity of this.
“You think I’m with her. This is the only way I can prove to you I’m not.”
The way he says it places the blame on me. Like I’m the one who is demanding this. He opens the door, and I see a woman sitting in bed. She looks as surprised as I feel.
“Hello, Emma. I’m really sorry to show up like this, but this is Kyra.”
* * *
BRANDON
Shame curls in my gut. This situation is absurd—like something out of a Tarantino movie. It’s almost funny. I smother the guilt which rises like a phoenix from the pit of my stomach.
Emma looks shocked, but her eyes soon go to Kyra, who is standing timidly by my side. “Oh,” she says.
“We won’t stay for long. Sorry.” I make an apologetic face. I will explain everything to her properly later, but her searching look sees through me. I introduce the two women, being extra careful to tell Kyra that Emma is a dear friend.
Surely Kyra won’t have any questions after this. Surely this will suffice? Kyra looks uneasy. I can see it in the way she is standing, hovering by Emma’s bed. It’s surreal to watch and I feel awkward as I ask Emma how she’s feeling, then ask about her family. We make small talk about Emma’s recovery, and she tells us that she’ll be able to leave the hospital soon, then tells us about the physical therapy she has to undergo.
She looks a lot better lately, and tells me that she is walking around more, and the pain of her injuries is lessening.
When Kyra steps out to take a phone call, Emma gives me a look that makes my insides shrivel.
“I’m a shitbag, I know.” I exhale, because I don’t know where to begin, and I don’t have time, and Kyra is just outside. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask this if—”
“You’re sleeping with her.” Her voice is thick with disappointment. It’s not even a question, but stated like a fact.
“No.” I meet her gaze.
“Something is obviously going on.”
“I’m not … sleeping with her.”
She doesn’t seem to believe me. Wise woman. “You set out to deceive this woman. Even you should know when to stop,” she hisses.
“About that … I’m going to set things right.”
She struggles to sit up, and I help her, adjusting the pillow slightly. “Is this setting things right?”
“She thought I was married, or that you and I were … you did say I could bring her here.”
The silence is deafening.
“Obviously, you didn’t think it would come to that,” I say, realizing now how misguided my actions are.
“Sorry about that.” Kyra returns, looking sheepish. She smiles at Emma. “I’m so sorry about showing up here like this. It’s my fault.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” Emma is all smiles. The two women seem genuinely friendly towards one another and I feel like an extra on a show.
“We should go. I’m sorry that this happened at all, but Brad and I were talking and …” Kyra looks to me to help her out, as if she doesn’t know how to explain her sudden appearance here.
“It’s not a problem. I like having visitors. Being on my own isn’t much fun.”
“It’s great that you’ll be able to go home soon,” says Kyra. “Good luck with the physio.”
I raise my hand at Emma, steering clear of words. She’s furious with me, and rightly so. Once more, this was all about me. My desire to prove that I am not a cheat or involved with Emma. That’s all I thought about, and wanting to set the record straight with Kyra, but if I were brave enough, I could have set the record straight by telling her the whole goddamn truth.
But to do that, I will have to go back to the beginning, to tell her who I really am, and that’s something I’m not ready to do.