Bad At Love

Chapter Five

"Farrah, can you please sort out Kem Whittier's tax return files? She's coming for an appointment—"

"I know when she's coming, Frank. I'm the one who scheduled the appointment." I interrupted him as I grabbed a few stray documents sprawled across my desk. He had been trying to remind of appointments all week. It's as if he forgot that I was the one he hired to be his assistant. I was literally the backbone of this establishment. But for some bizarre reason, Frank likes to claim all credit. I did almost, if not all, of the behind the scenes work: filing his papers, calling clients and setting appointments. I created documents, entered all clients' information into the QuickBooks program. I worked my ass off for the man. The only thing I didn't do was work directly with the clients to find out everything.

"Oh, can you also run out and pick up some lunch? I have to work on this new client's s**t. This old lady is so dim, she hasn't filed her taxes since 09′. I don't know how she's avoided the IRS for this long." He slowly retreated back into his office as he spoke. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I grabbed my wallet and purse. He was so crude at times, I wasn't sure how to properly deal with him. He would make inappropriate and sexist comments about women. If I didn't need the money or the job -- I would've left a long time ago.

"Going to grab us those sandwiches." I called out as I stepped out of my chair, letting my tired legs finally stretch out. Despite being irritated that the man simply couldn't get his own food. I felt relieved that I could get some fresh air. There was never a point in driving my car to pick something up for food, especially since most days I would bring my own.

So, I walked.

It's one of the few times in the day that I'm alone with my own thoughts. I could simply turn them off and watch the car's speed down the paved road. I could watch as birds flapped their wings high up within the clouds. Or I could think about the things going on in my life.

Today was more so the latter.

The last month had been filled with booze and regretful nights on the town. Sofia and I had gone out nearly every other night with Nicolas. We would switch between bar hopping on Austin Avenue and going to clubs uptown to drink and party like the rich. Either way, we were always stumbling back home more wasted than the night before. But, it was starting to take a toll on my body.

My limbs were sore from the hours of dancing and the collective miles I had walked in heels to get to bar after bar. The definition on my legs was definitely worth it, though, so that wasn't much of a downfall. The eye bags under my eyes, though? They were painfully obvious that I hadn't gotten a full night's sleep since – well, since I first met Nic and Silas. I knew that going out like this had to stop, but I couldn't help myself. I felt the more often I went out on the town, the more likely I'd see him again.

I couldn't shake him out of my mind; I would always try to think of something else. I even tried going on a light jog, but I ended up running three miles because I was too busy letting him run through my mind. I hadn't seen him since last month. I had seen Nic several times a week, especially since Sofia always has him over. I would try asking Nic how Silas was, if he was busy. But I always got a vague and simple response.

"He's caught up with work."

Or

"He's just around"

I wanted to press him for more, but there was no reason to. He was only a man I had hooked up with once. The next time we hung out, all we did was talk about our lives and how we were raised. He told me about the time he learned how to swim. How his father pushed him into the water and told him to move his arms and legs. He left him there, a few minutes of swinging his arms passing by.

There were many stories like this. His father pressuring him to try something, only to leave him when he wasn't succeeding. It tugged at my heart as he spoke. He told me stories of his mother's passing and how she was the only person in his corner. It was that night where he made me open my eyes to the horrors of the world for those around me. But as I looked at him in the new light he had shed for me, I couldn't help but begin to fall for him.

The man had a sincere side that I hadn't seen in a while.

I looked at the sign of the Deli Shop and sighed as I peered through the windows. There looked to be only four people waiting for their food orders, which meant I had beaten the lunch rush. I walked through the heavy glass door, my heels clacking against the linoleum. The sound of small chatter from the cooks and cashiers filled my ears. The clanking of change dropping into the register and the rushing of liquid into a plastic cup.

I walked closer to the order stand, a girl with dark brown hair and caramel complexion greeted me with a wide smile. I had no reason to believe it was real, the food industry was full of hard workers and people full of long shifts.

"Hi, welcome to Sandy's Whiches, how can I help you?" Her voice was an octave higher than it should've been, but I shrugged it off.

"Yes, can I get one grilled chicken sub with extra ranch and a side of your house chips? And, one true American sub with extra cheese and toasted with a side of house chips?" The order rolled off my tongue with no effort. It was Frank and I's usual order, which made things far easier.

"You betcha! That'll be 11.34, cash or card?" The girl beamed upwards at me, earning a fake smile as I shoved my hand into my purse to retrieve my wallet.

"Card." I said as I lifted my wallet from my disorganized mess and opened the clasp. I fidgeted with the small pocket the card wedged inside of. After a moment, I was able to wiggle it out of its place, "Here, so sorry about that." I handed her the plastic card with ease.

"No problem, ma'am, would you like your receipt?" I watched as she slid the card into the credit card system, the beeping filling our ears.

"No, it's okay. Thank you so much." I flashed another smile.

"Alright, here you go. I'll call your number, 84, when it's ready." Her hand extended out with my card as I nodded briefly, before retrieving my card before I stepped off to the side. Looking around, I noticed everyone scattered across the diner. Either standing off by the drink station or sitting at randomly placed tables. I sighed and looked off to the bench somewhat close to the register and stalked over.

I made my way towards the wooden bench before I sat there quietly. I heard the background noise of busy workers and the song playing over the speakers. It was a song played on repeat on the radio a few months back.

I always had that dream

like my daddy before me

So, I started writing

songs I started writing stories

"Farrah?" I heard a slightly familiar voice call my name. Part of me knew who it was before I turned my head to see him. His dreadful and familiar face encasing me. He was the last person I wanted to see. In fact, I didn't want to see him again for the rest of my life.

"Jake?" The name rolled off my tongue with contempt. My ears rang as I felt my heart drop into my stomach. The never-ending pain I had once felt, and long healed, had returned. This was the last thing I needed; Jake coming back into town. Calling my name across a sub shop as if nothing between us had ever fallen apart. It made my heart ache at the thought of our history. I felt my hand twitch in anger, my other hand laying on top of it to keep it tamed.

"Holy s**t, it actually is you. I doubted myself for a moment. God, you look... wow," I watched as his dark brown eyes examined me up and down, his charming smile plastered on his plump lips. I couldn't help but want to return the smile, because a huge part of me wanted to fall for his smile all over again.

That goddamn smile.

"Thanks. Um, what are you doing here?" The question came out too abrupt for him not to take offense. He stepped back with his brows pushed together, before sliding one of his hands into his pockets. I felt my palms sweat, causing me to rub them against my pants to ease my emotions from running wild.

"Woah, are we okay, Fae?" His question came out sincerely as he peered at me with wide eyes. His hands fidgeted together as if he was nervous to hear what I had to say. With his eyes fixated on me, I felt like I had been placed in the spotlight on a Broadway show during the climax. I let my eyes wander around the small sandwich shop, before returning my gaze on to him. I didn't know how to inspire a proper response.

"I just don't," I sighed carefully as I stopped the words from coming out of my mouth. I wasn't prepared to see him, not now, not ever. He was the last person I would want to see, but here he stood, only three feet away with his wide eyes. "I don't know what to say," I whispered, my hand running through my messy hair.

"I can understand that," he nodded for a moment, his hand reaching up behind his neck. I couldn't help but check him out, he had grown older since I had last seen him, of course. His hair had grown a few inches, showing off his nice curls. His eyes seemed a few shades lighter, his body was larger as if he had spent most of his time in the gym. I couldn't quite decipher if he was genuine, yet.

Back when we were together, he was one of the most manipulative people I have ever met. He would tell you anything you wanted to hear, exactly how you wanted to hear it, without hesitation.

"Order number 84!" I heard a bell ring in the distance, I stood there for a second, trying to form a coherent sentence. With no luck, I raised to my feet and pointed in the direction of the pick-up counter. I turned my head over my shoulder to peek at him one last time.

"Maybe next time we can talk," I lied.