“And, you know, spending more time with Mr Orc might be good fun. How do you know him anyway?”
“School,” Brierley replied. “He was in the year below…”
“Oooh, toy boy!” Tori grinned.
“But, he sorta clung to my group of friends. We were the alternative crowd at school, and he was just there,” Brierley explained. “I didn’t know him well, though; he was always getting into trouble and picking fights. I guess things came good for him in the end.”
“That’s what happens when your Mummy-Dearest is CEO of Merloft Corp,” Tori said, looking at her phone as Brierley was explaining. Already looking on the internet for a sliver of gossip about the orc that had just fallen in her friend's lap.
Brierley looked at the screen as it was shoved under her nose, grabbing hold of Tori’s wrist so that she could see it properly. The photograph was an uncomfortable-looking family portrait.
They were gathered outside the front of their corporate headquarters, with none of them looking in the same direction. Dura, Merloft Corps CEO, was looking dutifully into the camera without a trace of a smile on her small tusked mouth. Standing smartly in an immaculately pressed skirt suit. Breht was distracted by something in the middle distance, but looked glorious in his dark-blue suit jacket. At his side, looking up at him, with her hand wrapped around his waist, was a beautiful,blonde woman. Brierley's smile faded. She passed the phone back to Tori without a word.
Chapter 4
ThemomentBrehtleftOhpaua, he loosened his tie. He’d always hated the way they rested against his throat, but hadn’t managed to find an alternative that didn’t make him look like a wannabe pirate. Business demanded a certain level of decorum.
He hadn’t seen Brierley in years. Most of his old school connections had gone the way of ghosts when he’d left his home area to join his Ma with his tail tucked between his legs. Dura had looked upon him with bitter disappointment ever since he’d left school with nought but a single grade in the arts; told him to ditch all his connections and get to work properly.
Ever since he returned, he knew it was inevitable that he would run into a familiar face or two. The old haunt was bound to throw up recollections from his troubled youth. To do so soon, to be facing a business connection with one. Brierley of all people. It was uncanny. She'd been popular in school—the kind of girl who was always out of reach for someone a year younger.But her talent for jewellery-making was undeniable, and that was what mattered now.
He took his phone from his pocket and scrolled through the numbers. He hadn’t much to report to his Matriarch yet, but she’d expected daily updates. May as well give her a brief one. On the third ring, she answered with the clipped tone he was accustomed to.
“Mr Merloft.”
“Ma,” he replied curtly. “Just wanted to let you know I’ve touched base with Miss Mirren of Ohpaua.”
“And?” Came the startlingly brief reply.
"I'm expecting her to call back mid-afternoon," he projected. Usually, retail had a lull in the afternoon hours. It's when those thoughts of giving in often turned to restlessness. If she hadn't called by early evening, he would try to ring the number attached to her file. Either way, he was going to need to speak with her again soon enough.
“So no real progress to report then?” He could hear the sneer from behind the phone's screen.
“It’s early days yet,” he replied, trying to remain positive even though she seemed determined to tear him down every chance she got.
“You keep telling yourself that,” she retorted.
His silence stretched on. He'd spent fifteen years proving himself, and fifteen years falling short. The brother was dead. Dura was impossible. And somewhere in between, he'd become a man defined by what he couldn't be—not by what he'daccomplished, but by the infinite distance between himself and enough.
“I had dinner last night with Mr and Mrs Reyroris,” she announced.
His eyes closed as a short exhale parted ways with him. “How were they?” He asked. While he had parted ways with their daughter, he’d always felt a fond respect for her parents. They were caring, doting on their daughter, but understanding that not everything in their rocky relationship was entirely on his shoulders.
“Good. Rosani was there,” Dura reached the crux of her tangent. “She said she has been trying to ring you.”
That was a lie. Other than the message he had received yesterday, he’d not heard an accursed peep from her. For which he was thankful.
“Why are you telling me this?” He asked. Dura would never see the frown that formed on his face, but it was there all the same. “I told you, we broke up.”
“I told her you’re away on business and that you’d get in touch with her when you got back.”
“I’ve got to go, I have an incoming call,” Breht lied. It was one thing for Dura to chastise his business practices, but quite another for her to try to work her way into his love life. The last thing he wanted was her interjection in his toxic relationship. Her interference was obstinate and most unwelcome. He hung up before she could object.
He ran his hand through his hair, pushing the longer strands back so they flopped to the sides in an endearing mess. Despite nearly all the bridges of his prior friendships being burned fromwhen he had lived in the town, a single, strong friendship had remained. Gorim. He’d been best mates with him back in the day, and they still phoned one another on a semi-regular basis. Usually, around the festive season to wish one another well. With the parting promise to keep in better touch in the months to come. Only for it to never happen. The enthusiasm with which they spoke when they called again, with banter as though they’d never parted, made the false promises feel worthwhile before life got in the way again.
Breht scrolled through his contacts and, once he found the other orc's number, he called, taking off his jacket in the warm weather while it rang. His footfalls carried him away from the busy street of storefronts towards the beach promenade, instinctively knowing the way from years of living in the unchanged town. Some of the shops had changed in the interim years, but the streets and the passageways had all stayed the same. A smile graced his maw when he made it to the beachfront; the sound of waves crashing against the sand brought him home. His smile only broadened at the sight of the ice cream stand on the corner. Displaying the same old sign, with a very tired-looking display of all the different flavours.
“Hello?” Answered a child's voice.
