TIED TO YOU

5 years earlier The meeting room was stiff with silence yet brooding with anxiety as I leafed through thirteen pages of a document that never made its way to me before the meeting started. I'd warned these people against introducing new data about proposals during meetings, which always led to delays. But they were yet to listen. Guess I'll have to teach these people to value time, I thought with an exhale. Closing the pages, I looked over the twelve people surrounding the table, my eyes snagging on the logo of a phoenix's feathers with a rod between it. Most of the men were old, selfish, racist, arrogant assholes that shouldn't be there. But they had money, and money opened doors—like the ones to this meeting room. The women, none of them younger than forty, had seen enough harsh years that they were now showing signs of belonging to the group my mother would never encourage me to run with. But, money, money, money. “This, Mr. Orion, is the fifth time I'll be saying this. You might find it amusing in that your way, but I assure you it certainly isn't. Do not introduce data about possible contracts days before the board is coming to an agreement.” Smiling sweetly at the balding, thin man sitting two chairs to my left, I added, “Did that settle?” Indeed a smile was trying to find its way through the crooks of Orion's face. He found this amusing and was trying to tell me he'd do the same again. If he could read minds, he wouldn't want to know what I had planned for that. “Yes, sir, we are clear.” They never call me chairman. Not yet. Not when I'm only acting chairman until my father is bound to retire in days. Although it was a form of relief that I didn't have to wear that word they tossed about with venom. I sat back, interlocking large fingers as I huffed out a breath. “Before I provide my own opinion, I'd like to hear what each of you has to say in this matter.” And then it began, my favorite part of meeting these old coots—the part where they formally tear at each other in an attempt to sound like a better asset to the company. *** “How did it go?” Shanice, my secretary, was asking the instant I walked out of the board room towards my office. I'd made it a habit to leave last, trying to piece together allegiances that mouths always found a way to shatter during each meeting. Today was the same. I made no move to respond as we continued down the empty hallway to the door set opposite the meeting room. “Guess,” I responded while stepping through the door. The room is large enough to house three other offices. To the right is a wooden office, which is where Shanice headed. I slip out of my suit before flinging it on the table. Covering the distance, the rug swallows the sound of my movement as I sunk into the leather chair on the other end. “Oh, I'm leaving in a bit. Dinner with family and all that. I don't have any meetings, do I?” “I’d say Chrysler wanted to show off his terrible boxing skills, but is too grateful you stopped him from disgrace to mention it. Marilyn probably just watched the whole thing from the end of the room, wondering how the bunch got to be on Reddington’s board. Maybe she even asked the rowdy room why she was there.” I couldn't stop the grin spreading on my lips. Walking over to the table with as folder in her hand, Shanice added, “No meetings left for the day. When do you leave?” “In about…,” I began, turning the wristwatch on my arm to look at the time, “now.” “Now, Mr. Charles, is going to wait three minutes. I need you to sign these papers for me.” The said pages were dropped, the folder in her hands significantly lighter. “You're evil,” I announced as I began scanning the pages before signing. I trust Shanice enough to not want to read these pages. But this is business. You can't take such risks where other lives—pockets—are involved. “What can I say? It's why my boyfriend loves me so much.” Another easy grin slipped off my lips as I continued reading in silence. Her boyfriend is one thing she takes pride in—and works as a way to keep people off. Done, I signed off everything but returned one to her unsigned. Standing, I picked up my suit and called behind me. “There's a clause I asked Marilyn to add to that. Gently inform her that if she omitted it as a way of checking if I'm up for being chairman, I don't appreciate it. Goodnight, Shanice. Try not to keep your boyfriend up all night.” “Goodnight, Mr Charles, I don't want to see you glowing from certain places tomorrow,” she responded smoothly. Her laughter matched mine as I headed out into the hallway, down the elevator on the right side, out the front doors, into the road, mixing into happy memories as I approached what people called the White Tower but I called home. It was quiet when I got there, but Adam, the gatekeeper, was in his post as I drove in. Turning off my phone, I walked through the large front doors. “Please,” my mother choked, her voice ripe with tremor scampering into the hallway. I stopped moving, trying to get a better view of the room beyond. But the thing was the house was built to keep whoever was in the hallway from seeing whatever was inside. All I could see from my standpoint was the stairs, the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the reminder that my mother might be in trouble. But was she in trouble, though? She and my father, Ernest Reddington, were such lovebirds I'd lost count of times I've caught them kissing—intensely. This might very well be another of their games I thought as I walked further into the hallway. “Charles, won't you come in?” My chest loosens as Charlotte's voice slips under my skin, into the blades of my shoulders that have become taut, and relaxation finds me. Charlotte was here, and her voice was the usual lifting tone—all was well. See? Just another of their childish games. Clearing the hallway, I pivoted to the right and into the sitting room. The first thing I noticed were the lovebirds in the cushion. Ma was visibly shaking so whatever games they were playing, I'd rather not join in. I've only been acting chairman for months; the level of stress that comes with the position is something I'm still grasping. Sighing, I walked further into the room before my legs forgot how to move forward. Ma was sitting in her favourite cushion beside Dad, their faces drained of color. Tears are leaking freely from Ma’s eyes while Dad sat beside her, his fingers curled tightly around hers as he stared down the near-thin, blonde-haired, doe-eyed woman on the other end of the room. The woman holding a gun. Charlotte. “Babe, sit on the couch’s arm, will you?” Charlotte said. My legs didn't protest as I obliged. “Cute little family,” she mutters to my father. His only response was his glowering eyes. I stare at Charlotte without really seeing her, stare at my parents without really seeing them. My head was still piecing together what was going on when two men walked into the room, their eyes lost of life, their bodies shaped like boulders cut into human skin. “We found the papers, ma'am,” one of them said, addressing Charlotte. The other one hands over a black unmarked folder to Charlotte. Why is Charlotte in here with a gun pointed at my parents? She finished reading and smiled at my parents, my head still reeling. “We're done here,” she said to no one in particular. “Why?” I finally managed to get out as she stood to stand. Charlotte, my lover, best friend, and the owner of the engagement ring I have tucked in my breast pocket stares at me longer than was necessary without saying a word. She walked out of the room, two gunshots ringing in her wake. And then I died.