Layers(85)

“Just come out, okay,” he snaps, and hangs up.

Okay psycho, coming. What’s eating him? He sounded kind of tired, I muse as I walk toward the exit, hoping his situation at work isn’t too bad. I hate the thought of him being upset and annoyed.

~~~

Daniel leans on the parked Viper as he waits for me. Glad to see him I quicken my pace, though as I get closer I’m taken aback by the cold expression veiling his face. He is his usual radiant self though something is completely different about the way he looks at me; there is a hazel storm brewing in his eyes. I hate what I’m seeing.

Rather surprised by the fact that he doesn’t leave his position at the car, I get closer and give him an awkward hug that he doesn’t return. That’s a first. What’s going on?

“Aren’t you in the middle of a busy day?” I try to sound casual to hide the dread building up in the pit of my stomach.

“I am,” he grunts.

“But yet you came to see me?” I smile wholeheartedly.

“Just don’t,” he says in a stone cold voice that makes my heart hitch. I watch him, trying to understand what’s wrong. In return he studies me coldly as if I were a stranger.

“What’s going on, Daniel? You’re scaring me.” My teeth dig into my bottom lip, not sure what to think of his sudden inexplicable distance. He examines me for the longest, most excruciating few seconds and then pulls a white paper out of his back pocket. I watch him, trying to figure out what’s going on while fear crawls slowly up my spine. He hands the paper to me.

“Read it out loud,” he instructs in a grave tone, his eyes unnervingly burning into me.

I unfold the paper, literally shaking inside, glancing at him to check his expression once more, only to find it still unchanged. Something is so immensely wrong. I look at the paper and try to comprehend what I’m seeing.

“Out loud,” he says, in that same clipped, cold tone, though now I sense some kind of internal battle waging within him. What the hell is going on?

“What is it?” I ask.

He rubs his face with both hands, throwing a flinty look my way, then snaps, “Could you read the god damn thing already?”

I swallow hard and my hands start to shake. I skim through the first paragraph and when I reach the second I ask in total disbelief, “What? What is this? Where did you get it?”

“Are you going to read it for f**k’s sake or should I?” he asks, detached and impatient.

I start reading in a shaky voice, “Daniel Stark has made a name for himself as one of the business industry’s most private tycoons, and at the age of thirty-four, with millions cushioning his bank account, he is one of the most mysterious and eligible bachelors on the market. Mr. Stark is an intriguing enigma, hoping to be solved by a vast number of single women.”

My blood at once drains from my face as I read the next sentence. I halt to stabilize my voice and try to inhale.

“To our luck …” I choke. “To our luck the SF born multi-millionaire stud is now in a relationship with a less reserved sweetheart. Disturbing facts were revealed today as Stark’s current beau conceded some juicy details about the magnate which made yours truly understand Stark’s persistent preservation of privacy.

“Rejections, hookers, abundance and neglect were some of the words used to illustrate Stark’s past and his now-questionable way of life.”

I can’t continue. My voice breaks. Cold sweat covers me head to toe.

“What is this?” I question, shaken to my bones. He disregards my question, the frozen depths in his eyes directing chilled tremors up my body, making the hair on the nape of my neck slightly rise.

“Did you or did you not say these things about me?” he seethes, in a deadly voice. I try to breathe in and find it extremely hard for the air to actually flow.

“Yes. No,” my words break again.

“There’s only one simple answer here. Yes or No.” He tries to stay composed but I can see in his eyes the commotion transpiring within him.

“Yes,” I say as tears prick my eyes and the hugest lump forms rapidly in my throat. “Yes, but not like that, not to, to a …”

“Stop!” His voice is harsh and loud. Though there is something else in his stare that make me ache terribly inside, there is a mixture of disappointment and pain in these eyes, caused somehow by me.

“Daniel, don’t let this thing turn into something it’s really not,” I beg as I start to comprehend the implication of this insanity. The reason he broke up with his previous girlfriend sinks threateningly into my consciousness.

“I don’t want to hear you,” he says firmly, clenching his fists. He sizes me up for a few seconds more with a new look, a look that bring to my mind an unpleasant thought of loathing.

“Daniel,” I try again, feeling both contrite and wounded.

“Let’s take some time apart for both our sakes.” No … His voice is rigid. He then glimpses hastily right in my eyes and without further ado, turns to the driver side of the car.

Panicked, I call after him. He turns back for a brief moment and the only thing that comes to my mouth, dreading the moment that he’ll leave, is, “Daniel, don’t let this be the last thing we ever say to each other.” I am regarded with a look of pure desolation. Shaken, torn, and in a daze, I watch him drive away. Tears fill my eyes and the sharpest pain spurs in my stomach. Breathing is not an option; my lungs are void.