Crave

2. Simona-1

Simona

The smell of coffee usually woke me before my alarm went off. When the alarm startled me out of a dream, I almost fell out of bed. Sniffing the air, I missed the scent of my favorite Blue Mountain coffee and buttery croissants. I tilted my head, straining to hear the sounds of my personal assistant cooking breakfast. Instead, I heard dead silence. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and checked for messages. Nothing, and no calls either.

This could not be good.

I pushed the heavy comforter off, swinging my feet to the hardwood floor. I stumbled into the walk-in closet and pulled on a pair of blue sweatpants and a t-shirt. Feeling my way through the darkness I stubbed my toe on the doorframe.

“Shit.” I hissed, resisting the urge to jump up and down like a three year old.

The unusual silence was disconcerting. Usually, I could hear Claire’s sing-song voice chattering to herself about her boyfriend or her dogs. I grabbed a brass candlestick off a side table and walked silently toward the stairs.

The kitchen was dark. I tiptoed through the house, finding nothing wrong. I put the candlestick down and padded into the kitchen.

I flipped on the lights. No sign of Claire. After digging around the pantry for a minute I found the French press and the canister of beans. Not wanting to cook, I rummaged in the fridge for leftovers. Though I was starving, the feeling of dread was growing. My stomach was in knots. This was so unlike Claire not to show up without at least calling.

Something was definitely wrong.

I placed the coffee on a tray along with last night’s pasta salad and walked through the dark house to my office. It was gloomy, lit only by street lights shining through the windows. Hoping Claire was okay, I was setting the tray down in the middle of my desk when I noticed an envelope. I turned on the desk lamp. It was her large curlicue writing, and it was addressed to me.

My hands shook as I ripped it open. It was her resignation, effective immediately. I was a bad boss, cruel to say no to her time off request so she could party at the beach. Claire wasn’t going to stand for it, and her language was colorful.

Fuck you Simona.

I threw the paper in the trash. The fact that I was opening a new restaurant during the time she had requested off did not factor into her thinking. Of all the irresponsible, shitty things she could do, this was it. Without an assistant I was lost, unable to focus on bigger responsibilities while scrambling to get everyday tasks done.

I leaned back in my chair and sipped my coffee. Petty fantasies of revenge played in my head.

“Hope you don’t want a reference.” I muttered, then kicked over the trash can. f**k me.

Oh well, I guess I’m better off in the long run. Did I want a petty, immature person working for me? No, but this really did throw a wrench into my plans for the next few weeks. It was a milestone; twenty restaurants opened in the last twenty years. Everything needed to run smoothly when I opened the twentieth location.

“You’ve come a long way from the streets of New York.” I whispered into the silence, leaning back and propping my feet on the desk.

Accomplishing my goals seemed effortless to others, but none of it was easy. Hard work and little sleep were the secrets to my “overnight” success.

I pushed aside the empty coffee cup and powered up my laptop. Checking emails was my least favorite thing to do, so I always did it first. According to the architectural firm, their crew was ahead of schedule with the construction of the new restaurant. How about that? A nice surprise for a change. I opened my calendar and scheduled a visit to Asheville next week.

While deleting promotional emails one caught my eye: Bartholomew’s Bookstore. I opened it and was met with the next bit of bad news of the day. They were closing. I glanced up from my laptop and scanned the wooden shelves surrounding me. They were filled with rare first editions and were my pride and joy. Bartholomew’s had supplied the majority of them, many worth a small fortune. I’d only been in the store once, usually sending my assistant to pick up purchases I’d made over the phone. The manager, Amber, was always spot on with the picks she made. According to her message she was offering me excellent discounts due to my being such a good customer. I smiled, typed out a quick reply letting her know I’d be in later this morning.

My day was already ruined, so I might as well do something nice for myself. I rarely took a day off, and I needed a break. Meetings were cancelled, and I sent a message to my employees- do not disturb unless it’s an emergency.

I closed the laptop, wondering what I could do to start my day off. I picked up the tray and walked to the kitchen. After putting the dishes in the dishwasher I let myself out the back door. It was a brisk morning. Steam rose from the heated lap pool. I shucked my clothes off and dived into the welcoming water. A tall privacy fence kept the neighbors out of view. The heated pool was one of my only indulgences. I swam a few laps then turned over and floated, gazing up at the morning sky. A sliver of the moon was still visible as the sun rose. The contrast of the warm water and cool air was bracing, and despite Claire’s attack of immaturity, I wasn’t going to allow this turn of events to set me back.

Two decades ago I had nothing but dreams and ambition. Now I had everything I’d ever wanted. Well, almost everything. The one thing no one tells you about success is that it’s often lonely. Working long hours, being the boss, doesn’t allow for friendships. I mean, yes, I have friends, but they were often work related. Plus, you must be realistic. People always wanted something, especially if you had money or power. Keeping people at a distance became second nature. Not only to protect your wallet, but to defend your heart.