I’ve never told anyone about my childhood.
Even Diego, my best friend, doesn’t know the whole story. But something about Ellie just brings my heart to the surface. I wanted to fight it. I’m used to building walls. It’s all I’ve ever done. But with Ellie, it seems that for every brick I lay in an attempt to protect myself, Ellie tears one down. And the craziest part of it all is she isn’t even trying.
On Monday, Ellie has my coffee ready in hand when I walk into the office. She is in a plain yet flattering black dress, and her hair is curled. Ellie could wear a burlap sack and look stunning. As usual, she greets me.
“Good morning, Mr. Graves.”
“Good morning, Ellie,” I say in response. Everything about my response is not usual. Half the time I don’t even say anything, which now, in hindsight, seems cold. Guilt forces a smile to my lips, small but detectable because she smiles back.
“I’ll let you know if I need anything else,” I tell her, and she drags her lip through her teeth before nodding and heading out. I really wish she wouldn’t do that. I almost kissed her. But I can’t be that transparent right now. It’s one thing to let my guard down at the Opal Room or even at my house. Or out in publicwhen I’m acting like just another festival goer. It’s another to let myself go soft in private. It’s a train without brakes.
“Miss Bates,” I say just before she walks out. “Close the door on the way out. Please.”
After she’s gone, I dive into the internet. I hardly slept last night thinking about Luca’s face as he panicked at the top of that slide. Not just because he’s a cool kid, and I didn’t like seeing him like that, but because I understand the feeling. Ever since my memories blurred from having a mom to being alone with my angry, broken, harsh dad, I’ve had moments like that. Moments where the world is too loud, there’s too much going on. It’s like the walls are closing in on me. So I built my own. Walls to put a barrier between me and the world that is crashing towards me.
I wipe my hand down my face in an attempt to stop thinking about it and to focus on the task at hand. I spent the next two hours looking up private schools, specifically for gifted kids in the area. Ellie was right–they do exist, and they are expensive. Not that that matters to me. I’d pay to put that kid on the moon if it meant getting him away from mean kids and idiot teachers that don’t understand how to teach him.
I’m not sure how much time goes by before there is a knock at my door. I think I found a school that could really work for Luca, and I’m in the middle of an email, so I don’t even bother to look up.
“Yeah?” I call out, and there’s no answer. “Look, Diego, if it’s you, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit. Ellie, if it’s you, tell my one o’clock that I’m in a meeting and will have to reschedule.”
“And if it’s me?” Jocelyn asks. “Or did you forget about me?”
“What do you need?” I ask. “I really am in the middle of something here.”
“Ouch,” she says, making her way in despite my tone. “Something important enough to go radio silent for the last few days?”
“I’m sorry?” I ask. I’m getting a little irritated by the distractions.
“I tried calling you Saturday. For the festival? I didn’t see you there at all.”
“I was there,” I tell her. “With my assistant.”
“Of course you were,” she says, and I let out an irritated breath.
“Did you need something, Jocelyn?” I ask. “The last I checked, keeping weekend tabs on me is not part of your job.”
“Palms Preparatory Academy?” she asks. The woman is practically breathing down my neck, but I just ignore her.
“I’m looking for a new school,” I say.
“For Luca?” she asks.
“Yes. How did you know Ellie’s son’s name?” I ask.
Jocelyn crosses her arms and moves over next to the window, pacing the floor slowly. “It’s not hard to find things out about people in this industry, Damien. Why are you looking at schools for your assistant’s son, anyway?”
“Because he’s smart and deserves better than some shitty private school,” I answer flatly.
“And you care why?” she asks, and I’ve pretty much hit my limit. My attention snaps up to her, but Jocelyn just stares back at me.
“I don’t…I mean, it’s not like that,” I tell her.
“Really? Because I thought you had a rule against having feelings for your assistants,” she accuses.
“I don’t have feelings for anyone. What business of yours would it be if I did?” I say. After a moment, she sucks her teeth before going on.
“I’ve worked for you for a while, Mr. Graves. Forgive me for worrying about you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”
