In Bloom

Chapter 4

The doors shut behind the men and they were now secluded in the sizeable round office. The furniture was sleek but the massive wooden bookshelves stood out against the modern design. Evie was curled up on one of the beige couches, arms crossed and seething.

Christopher let out a long sigh before turning to look at Jackson, “drink?” He asked, not seeming to care that it was still morning. It seemed rude at this point to refuse, so the writer simply nodded his head and watched the man walk over to the bar cart. He risked a glance at the girl and tried not to smirk when he saw how red her face was; normally Jackson was very timid, especially with conflicts. However, being accused of something he didn’t do brought out his aggressive side.

“Scotch okay?” Christopher called out, as he held the fancy bottle all rich people seemed to be drawn to, above the glass. Jackson walked over to him, looking down at all the various brown liquids in the matching bottles.

“Yeah, scotch is usual anyway,” he said. The truth was, beer was the writer’s usual go-to, but given the circumstances, he didn’t think this was the time or place to ask for one. Christopher poured the glasses and handed one to Jackson before downing his own in one gulp, immediately pouring himself another. The writer had been so worried about what the infamous CEO Bloom was like, and this wasn’t it.

“Let’s sit so you can tell me exactly what happened.” The man said as he guided Jackson to a chair. He sat in the one beside him and looked at Evie, letting out a deep sigh. “Please, for once, let him speak, and then we can work everything out. Okay?”

The girl let out a long huff and sneered at Jackson. She was in trouble and it was all his fault. Because of him, Chris would probably cancel their trip next week, the one she was sure he was going to purpose. After all, she was the best thing that ever happened to him and she deserved that.

“Fine. I’ll be quiet, but I expect an apology when this is all over.” Evie was sure that she could convince Chris that this was all just a misunderstanding, and if her words didn’t work, she had a few tactics she was sure would let her get her way.

“Thank you,” he said softly before turning to look at the uncomfortable man, “whenever you’re ready.”

Jackson sipped his drink and started rubbing the side as he began to speak. With perfect detail, he went over the entire scene as it had unfolded; from Evie almost running him over, to her demanding money from him. The whole time, the girl’s face was turning red with rage and the other man’s was growing grimmer, all while Jackson became increasingly uncomfortable.

After he finished, he tipped his drink back and let the burning alcohol flow down his throat. The tension in the room was suffocating and at that moment he would rather be anywhere else than in the middle of a lover’s quarrel. He looked to Christopher, whose eyes were seering into the woman with a cocktail of emotions, and to her, who was still acting like she was the one who had been wronged in the situation. He didn’t know if he should say something or clear his throat, or anything so the deafening silence would be broken, but instead, he just sat there for what felt like an eternity.

Thankfully, the painfully awkward bubble was broken when the CEO stood up and tossed back his drink, sitting the glass down with so much force, Jackson was surprised it didn’t break. He turned to the still-sitting man and gave a polite smile, “Mr. North, I hate to be rude, however, would you mind if I had a moment alone with Evie?”

Jackson was internally jumping for joy as he rose from the chair and set his glass down. “Absolutely,” he said as he cautiously began backing towards the door, “I’ll just be outside.” With lightening fast speed, the writer turned and practically sprinted towards the door, throwing it open and stepping out with haste before slamming it closed behind him.

Mark almost jumped out of his skin, but the secretary seemed unbothered. With Evie around, slammed doors were probably a common occurrence. The editor jumped up and was at his friend’s side in the blink of an eye, “what happened in there? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The man was firing off question after question before Jackson could even take a breath.

“Mark, relax. I think it’s going to be okay, he said he needed a minute to talk to his girlfriend. Let’s just sit and wait.” The writer guided his friend back to the couch he had previously been sitting on, and all but dropped onto the soft cushions. Mark sunk next to him and had a quizzical look on his face.

“Jackson?” He asked causing them both to turn and look at each other. “Have you been drinking?”

“Is that really what’s important right now?” Jackson asked as he crossed his arms and tried to avoid eye contact with the editor. He could feel Mark’s eyes boring into him and he was prepared to look everywhere else in the room besides at the man; knowing that if he did he would never hear the end of it. Jackson thought that Mark would get the hint and back off, but he should’ve known better.

Mark blew against Jackson’s hair causing the other’s head to snap around, “ha! Works every time,” the editor said smugly before leaning in and sniffing loudly enough that the secretary looked up from her computer. His expression turned from one laced with humor to one of exasperation, “damn it, Jackson,” he sighed as his head slumped down. “I leave you alone with him for ten minutes and you spend it drinking,” the editor paused his rant to lean back in and take a few more whiffs of his friend's breath, “scotch?!”

“Mark you don’t even understand the situation.” Before the two could begin what was bound to be an epic argument, the sounds of yelling and glass breaking came from behind the thick wooden doors. Almost as if acting out a cartoon scene, Jackson and Mark looked from each other to the doors, back to each other, and then over to the secretary, who was still unbothered by the sounds coming from Christopher’s office.

The men, unsure of what to do, looked back at each other; varying levels of panic and confusion crossing their faces. How had what was supposed to be a simple meeting turned into a battleground?

After what felt like an eternity of sitting in crushing tension, the doors burst open and every head in the room snapped in the same direction, including the woman who couldn’t be bothered to look up for anything else. Evie came storming out and immediately locked her rage-filled eyes on Jackson, “you bastard!” The woman screamed, her footsteps sounding like thunder as she stomped over to the two men on the couch. “I hope you’re happy you pathetic piece of-”

“Evie!” The banshee was silenced by a booming tone coming from Christopher. “That’s enough. Now either leave on your own, or I will happily have you thrown out of the building.”

With a final growl of anger, Evie flipped Jackson, Mark, Christopher, and the secretary. The older woman, who hadn’t said a word since Jackson had walked onto the floor, made direct eye contact with the girl and pushed a button on her phone, “security, Ms. Teller is on her way down. Make sure her privileges are completely revoked and that she leaves the keys to Mr. Bloom’s car and penthouse with you as well. Thank you.”

The men on the couch stared slack-jawed as the older woman raised her hand and returned Evie’s parting gesture. Jackson was barely holding back laughter and Mark looked like he was about to turn to day drinking himself as Christopher ushered her into the elevator and reached in to push the button to the lobby. Evie was huffing and puffing as the doors shut, before letting out a sound that could only be compared to roaring.

Christopher’s shoulders slumped as he let out a full-body sigh before he turned back to the others in the room. “Sorry about that, guys, follow me and we’ll get the meeting started.” He gave Jackson a small smile as he walked over and gave his secretary a fist bump, “you rock Gwen,” the CEO said as the woman nodded in agreeance before going back to her work.

Mark and Jackson rose together and walked into the office behind their host. They looked around at the books all over the floor among the shattered remains of the beautiful bottles, the smell of alcohol was heavy in the air as the liquid was all over the room. “Sorry about the leftovers from Evie’s tantrum. She didn’t take me breaking up with her that well.” The man started laughing and Jackson was barely able to hold back a snicker of his own. Despite his initial resistance to taking this contract, having met the infamous CEO himself and realizing he was nothing like what the writer had heard, Jackson had decided he would be happy to write Christopher’s biography. Of course, he wouldn’t tell Mark that until later. He was going to let him sweat a little; the man had woken him up two hours early after all.