8 comments/ 4738 views/ 14 favorites Dreams I Cannot Dream Ch. 01 By: LaRascasse Your votes and comments are much appreciated. A massive vote of thanks to my editors tishadomina and AwkwardMD "She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together." ― J.D. Salinger * * One hundred and sixty-six days. That was how long I had been dying but not yet dead. My eyes kept seeing, my ears kept hearing and my heart kept up its futile rhythm of pumping blood to all parts of my body. At that moment, much of that blood was required in maintaining my rigid erection which a lovely lady had straddled. Ample, firm breasts bouncing a foot from your face really should make you feel better than this. The bartender at the Lion's Head did not lack for looks, talent or effort. She had this outcome in mind from the time I wandered into her bar a couple of hours back. Beth flirted with me till it was time for her to close for the day. Currently, she was astride my hips and rocking her body against mine. Her fleshy walls had a perfect grip around my semi-hard erection as she tried her best to coax some pleasure out of it. Her smile remained intact, looking considerably better than the forced one frozen on my face. Eventually, I called it. Some coffee, some questionable snacks from my refrigerator and the cab fare and I was alone again. I liked Beth, but in all honesty she didn't know what she was up against. She had a weakness for the silent brooding type and I was available at her counter. An unfortunate misunderstanding. That's all. I saw her out and got back to bed. One of the pills the good doctor prescribed for me and I can get some sleep. I looked at the ornately framed photo of Lucy by my bedside one last time before turning off the light. * * Morning came too soon, heralded by the sounds of birds, joggers and a garbage truck that braked too hard. My slumber was rudely interrupted by cursing pedestrians. I shrugged it off and snuggled back into my covers. A more persistent wake-up call came by a few minutes later. I groped at my bedside table, knocking over some miscellaneous stationery before I found the errant ringing phone. "Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked exasperatedly over the call. "I don't have time to argue," said Jeannie brusquely on the other end. "Today's your first day." "Remind me again, why did I let you talk me into a new job?" I mumbled sleepily. "It's not like I need money." "No, sweetie. It's not about money. It's about finding your purpose again. You look awful moping around in your apartment all day." I briefly glanced at my alarm clock. "Besides, you're only there as a consultant. Just go and tell those kids how to get their company started. That's all." "I'm not feeling up to it, Jeannie. Why don't you tell them I'll start tomorrow?" "No, you're not putting this off again. I've known you long enough to know that you'll say the same thing to me every time," said the voice on the other end. "You need this. You need to forget about all that's happened over the past few months and this job is exactly for that." I took a few seconds to clear my head when she said. "You know it's what Lucy would have wanted. It would hurt her so much to see you right now." "Yeah, real classy, Jeannie... bringing Lucy up as an emotional punchline." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" "It's okay, I was just messing with you," I laughed. "Seriously though, have you been seeing Dr Kravitz regularly? And don't you even think of lying." "Relax, Jeannie. I'm not fifteen any more. Therapists don't scare me as much now." "And your pills? Tell me you're taking them on schedule." "Mom, is that you?" I chuckled. "Not even close. Our mother didn't even think depression was an actual thing." There was a brief pause as I reluctantly let go of the last vestiges of sleep. "Send me the address again, will you? I'll go and see what those guys are about." "You got it... and Jason, take care of yourself. Lucy wasn't the only one who loved you." "I'll try." The call dropped. I checked the clock to make sure I had a few minutes to work up the courage to get out of bed. * * Getting out of bed isn't as hard as it used to be. The mundane routine of starting my day began. For a few minutes, I pictured cleaning out my bank account and running off to Fiji. It did have a certain allure to it, sitting on a pristine white beach watching waves crash into the breakers with a chilled Mai Thai in hand. No, not Fiji. That's where I promised we'd go on our next anniversary. I was on my fifth possible runaway destination by the time I stepped out of my apartment. The corner deli armed me with enough caffeine to jump-start a car. It sustained me to the subway where I joined scores of bored commuters glued to their devices. A few stations later, a panhandler made her way into my compartment. She tried her luck with a few people, getting some glares and coins for her efforts. She came to me, looking hopeful. I mused it over for a few seconds before rolling out a bunch of notes from my wallet into her hat. She looked at me with a look of disbelief and muttered a thanks before moving to her next potential benefactor. I took another sip of the steaming latte in my hand and surveyed the crowd. All of them were busy on some smart device or the other, except a man on the far end who stared intently at the glass window opposite him. His hair was untidy and his appearance shabby in general. His eyes had the droopiness that comes with most over-the-counter medication. Maybe I was reading too much into him. I diverted my attentions to my upcoming meeting and what to expect. Not being the most social person in Manhattan, interactions with people made me nervous. I got off at my station and did a sprint up to the surface. The business district of Lower Manhattan loomed over me. I shot a quick glance at my phone's GPS to confirm the building I was looking for was two blocks away. Everything around me brimmed with vibrant urgency. People thronged the sidewalks on their way to the next meeting or interview or investment. I waded through the crowd until I reached the zebra crossing. It was a wonder there weren't more accidents with the number of people who crossed with their eyes firmly on their screens. The light turned red and, like a model citizen, I slouched my way to the other side. There was a small food truck violating the parking laws on the other side of the road. A typically busy kid had an improvised burrito in his hand, the sauces leaking down his fingers. He stopped to lick the trail all the way from his wrist to his fingertip. ... And all at once, it was that day again. I was in the living room, watching CSI Cyber and laughing at the bad tech references. I took a peek out the window to the ocean, idly seeing yachts and surfers all the way to the blue horizon. Lucy's trip to the wine shop was taking longer than expected, probably due to her checking out a new vintage. Anyone who had seen her at the high end Silicon Valley parties we attended would not believe that the same person with such a refined taste in food and wine could devour a burrito with rabid ferocity and lick the entire residue off her fingers. That contradiction was one of the many things that made her special. The wait dragged on and my fingers began tapping the sofa agitatedly. I turned off the TV and got up to call her when the doorbell rang. This was it. The second that door swung open, I was going to pounce on her, tear her clothes off while carrying her to the living room and make love to her on the overly expensive Kashan rug she had picked out herself. I opened the door, half ready to lunge, when I saw two smartly dressed LAPD detectives instead. "Mr Saunders?" asked the heavy-set Hispanic woman to the right. I nodded briefly. "Detective Velásquez, LAPD. Can we come inside?" "Hey asshole. Get a move on!" I shook out of my memory to see a thoroughly displeased commuter held up because I had chosen to freeze right in front of her car. After failing to honk me out of my stupor, she had decided to try a more direct approach. "What're you waiting for, dumbfuck?" I hurriedly finished crossing the road just in time for her to whiz by me, displaying her extended middle finger out the window as a final repartee. The kid and his burrito were nowhere to be seen. I checked my watch to see I was late. Half of me wanted to dash back to my apartment and dive under the covers, but then I would have a very angry sister to answer to. It took another few minutes before I worked up the courage to enter the office building. * * LiveTrade was emblazoned across the glass doors on the seventeenth floor lobby. The logo had a horrifying shade of green and a loopy font that looked like the product of Dali on crack. Simply looking at it made me sick enough to reconsider any potential investment. "Mr Saunders?" asked a seemingly friendly young man. I nodded. "Hi, Chase Lassiter from LiveTrade," he said, shaking my hand. "It's such an honour to finally meet you in person." Chase led me inside to a conference room where, much to my chagrin, that infernal company logo was prominently displayed. Five more people were present, all of whom stood up to greet me. "Mr Saunders, meet the core team at LiveTrade. This is Jordan, our lead developer. Andy and Hugh are working under him. Kristen handles the marketing and advertising and Helen is responsible for our day to day operations and finances." I shook all of their hands in turn. Everybody looked like five year olds who had just met Santa. "First order of business," I began. "Call me Jason. Seriously guys, I'm not even thirty." There was a ripple of laughter. "You guys are living the start-up dream, eh? Aren't you on the wrong coast for that?" "Our company deals with finance. Given that, I'd say we're at the perfect place." "All right then, now that the preliminaries are over, why don't you sell me your idea?" Chase looked at me like a deer in the headlights. I shot a quick glance around to see the rest of his team in similar states of stupefied disbelief. "You know how this works, right? You pitch your idea to me. I think it through and if I'm convinced with its viability, I write you a cheque for five million dollars." "That's it?" "I'm afraid so. Now can one of you explain to me how the hell you came up with the design for that logo?" Over the next two hours I listened to the details of their company. In truth, I spent the last one hour fifty minutes of that time in my idle ruminations. I tried remembering if I had missed a pill recently. The feeling of hopeless dread returned, but it gave me some measure of comfort knowing it was all in my head. Meanwhile, the poor kids went on with their presentation. I would have paid them my promised five mil just for them to shut up. "Jason, what do you think?" I shook myself back to the present. The THANK YOU slide was on the screen. A row of faces stared at me expectantly. "Not half bad." "Does this mean you're considering investing?" asked one of them eagerly. "Let's just say I'm considering it," I said, stretching my limbs. "How about we break for lunch? We'll meet back here in an hour or so." My overenthusiastic prisoners nodded and began to filter out of the room. Kristen came up to me with a pad in her hand. "Could you please autograph this?" she beamed. "My brother is a huge fan of yours." "Who should I make it out to?" I asked, taking the pen from her. "Marcus," she said, giddy with schoolgirl enthusiasm. "I can't believe you're really here with us. You're like a billionaire, right?" "I was for a short while after I sold my company. I've given most of that money away. So I'm just a millionaire now," I chuckled and finished signing the pad. "Where's the cafeteria in this building?" "Tenth floor. Far side." I duly took the elevator to the tenth floor. There were other offices in the building in various stages of renovation. Somewhere gradually filling with nascent businesses trying to make their presence felt in the already burgeoning district. I ordered a reasonably sized lunch and sat down to eat in solitude. Alone was the only time I was content. The food was indifferent, but filling. In truth, I neither had the appetite or taste to try something better. "Yes, I know what he said. I was in that meeting too, remember?" There was something pleasantly familiar about that voice. It came from the doorway and grew louder as the owner approached me. "Don't worry, Mark. I checked all the clauses and sub-clauses myself. There is no way they can terminate the contract without five months' notice or a buyout of the remaining amount. I need you to stay calm. I got this, all right." She walked right past my table towards the counter. Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a ponytail behind her back, swinging from side to side. "All you do is make sure the unions are solidly behind you and you'll be sure thing for the Board of Directors. Yeah, feel free to reach out to me any time. That's why you pay my retainer. See you at the next deposition then, Mark." The lady grumbled as she swiped her phone shut and ordered something. I hastily finished the rest of my lunch and left. There was a board near the elevator listing out all the businesses. I found the one I was looking for on the next floor. I checked my watch - still a good forty five minutes until I was expected back, an hour if I wanted to be fashionably late. I went to the suite in question and saw a girl barely out of her teens with an earphone wrapped around her head. I approached her tentatively. "Offices of Amanda Rossi, Esquire. How may I help you?" Taken slightly aback, I tried to gather my words. "She has a meeting at four on Thursday. How does six sound?" I let out an audible sigh of relief when I realised she was simply talking into the microphone dangling off the side of her face. She heard it and gave me a funny look throughout the remainder of her call. "How may I help you?" she asked again. There was a brief pause as I realised her phone call had now ceased and she was looking at me with an equal measure of curiosity and distaste. "Could you give my card to Mrs Rossi when she gets back?" I said, rifling through my pockets for one. "Who should I say it's from?" "Jason Saunders. I used to know her." Her eyebrow rose a few millimetres as she looked me from head to toe. I suddenly found myself wishing I was wearing something worthy of an eight figure bank balance. The awkward silence prolonged for a few more seconds before Amanda Rossi herself walked in. Either she had a freakishly fast lunch or I had spent far too long gawking at her receptionist. "Ms Rossi. This is-" "Jason Saunders," I hastily completed, extending my hand. God, those perfect blue eyes could hypnotize anybody. The way they shimmered and played with the light. The brow above them wrinkled slightly with confusion. "I'm sorry, Mr Saunders, but have we met before?" Ten years had changed nothing about her voice. It still had a slightly melodious tilt. She could be reading out the Yellow Pages and still captivate me with every word. "Not recently. We went to High School together, if that helps." "I can't seem to place you," she said. "Everhard High School in LA. We graduated in '03." "That's right," she said. "I still can't remember you though." "No worries. I've given your receptionist my card. Maybe we can meet up later." "Maybe," Amanda said, clearly not taking any more of a liking to me than her receptionist. "I've got to be in court in half an hour, so I'll be on my way. It was nice meeting you." And you can walk your loser ass back to whichever basement you crawled out off. I heard the unsaid line from both women before I smiled and walked back to the offices of LiveTrade. The team was waiting with their desktops ready for me. How I stifled my groan when I saw the technical side of their operations, I will never know. * * By the end of the day, I had a few choice clichés of encouragement for them. I felt for them, mostly good kids trying to build a dream for themselves. They at least had support from their friends and family. What I wouldn't have given for a single syllable of encouragement when I started on the source code of my company back in my dorm room at Berkeley. I took the subway back to my place, stopping for a perfunctory Cuban sandwich and tortilla at the deli. Nobody who saw me gave a second look. I reached my place just in time for my phone's alarm to remind me to take some of Dr Kravitz's finest. I laid down and put one hand over my head. When I was younger, I had this stupid idea that anti-depressants would instantly make me feel better. I'd a pop a pill and then be able to run and tell everyone it worked. Now, I was older and still wanted the same thing. Medicine did not work that way yet. For now, I resigned myself to thinking about the futility of life all over again. There were thousands of people working their asses off as I lay there. Business analysts scrambling over data, executives involved in calls with their global offices situated in other time-zones and doctors who were in the middle of their shifts to name a few. I wish I could go to each and every one of those fools and tell them none of it matters. Disconnect your line, cancel the meeting, take a night off. Go back home and see your kid rush to you when you open the door. Hug your wife and remind her how totally drop-dead gorgeous she still is. Catch up with a sibling you haven't talked to in a while. Data. Patients. Proposals. Unwritten code. They would all be there when you got back. Your family... you shouldn't take their being there for granted. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was feeling distracted. It wasn't the normal fugue today. Something was different. "It's the walls, isn't it? I knew I hated this awful lime green colour." A car sped past, shining its headlights through the grills for a brief instant. The picture of Lucy looked brighter and then it was back to the darkness. "What do you think, Luce? How about a shade of blue? Something cool and calming. Like the ocean back in California. Remember how you picked out the ocean blue shade for every part of our house?" I laughed involuntarily at the memory. Lucy held that one paint patch against every wall to prove her point until I finally relented. "I started at a new job today. Not the right choice of words since I'll be giving money rather than getting it for the time being. It's an interesting gig, to be honest. Part investor, part mentor, part consultant." I took a deep breath before continuing. "Jeannie called me again to make sure I'm taking my medication and seeing my shrink. She can be a bit bossy and overbearing, but she has my best interests at heart and that's what matters. I wish you had the chance to know her better. Oh and by the way, I bumped into someone at work today. I can't remember if I've ever told you about her. Amanda from back in LA. She was easily the most popular girl in my school." I glanced over at Lucy's picture once more. "I'm pretty sure it's the last I'll be seeing of her. If I get the chance, though, I'd like to thank her some time. Going to school was not easy. Hell, getting out of bed was tough enough, but I did it mainly so I would get to see her." I turned to my side and said, "I should probably try to stay away from her, or else there may be a restraining order in my future. She probably already thinks of me as somewhere between dateless pervert trying to get into her pants and psycho stalker. Not quite my comfort zone." Dreams I Cannot Dream Ch. 01 I checked the bedside clock. "Night, Lucy. Watch over me." * * "If we're going to do this, I'd rather we do it right." The whole of LiveTrade stared at me blankly. I rattled off a few basic points I had prepared. The developers took notes. It was half an hour before I had assigned everyone a role and given them something to improve. Everything from the user interface to the workflow to the data storage could do with some tinkering. Lunchtime did not come soon enough. I left the buzzing of the office and settled down in the cafeteria with one of their staple lunches. I was three-fourths of the way through the miserable steak imitation when I heard a chair from the adjoining table dragged opposite to me. I looked up and saw Amanda put her briefcase on the floor beside her and sit down. I really had nothing to lose. If she was going to publicly berate me for my advances, so be it. There was no way I could feel any worse than I already did - every single waking moment of every living day. "Do you have a restraining order in that suitcase of yours?" I asked, flippantly. "I'm sorry?" she seemed genuinely taken aback. "It's about me dropping by your office yesterday, isn't it? I really should have tried calling first." "No, it's not that." That got my interest fast. I put my fork and spoon down and looked at her. "I looked you up from our alumni website. You're like the only person in the Alumni in the News section." "Doesn't say much for the rest of our batch," I said dryly. "Did you perhaps remember me from class now?" "I still couldn't," she said with a shake of her head. "But I did read all about you and felt so bad about the way I treated you yesterday. So I came here to apologize." "It's not your fault. You can hardly expect every creep who shows up at your office to be a recent widower." Amanda looked unsure of how to react. "Relax, Amanda, you're fine with me." "Still, I wish I had been more polite." "It really is okay," I reassured her. "If it makes you feel any better, you're easily the most famous guy in our batch now. Hell, you could even be the most famous guy in our school's history." "Perhaps until one of our less stable alumni snaps and decides to shoot up a supermarket. That would certainly put me in second place." She stared at me for a few uneasy seconds until I grinned. "My sense of humour could do with some help. As you can guess, I was never the most social person." "Spoken like a true geek," she smiled. It was high school once again and I was splitting my time evenly between trigonometry and the side view of her face. Correction, I spent more time on the side of her face. Further correction, trigonometry drew the short straw. The tiny side view of Amanda's face was all I could focus on. It made me want to see my therapist again so I would get better and keep coming to school. "Hello, Earth to Jason?" I snapped out of my memories in time for her to get a tray full of edibles for her lunch. "If you're not too busy, maybe we could sit down and talk some more?" Amanda asked hopefully. YES. YES. A thousand times yes. My teenage brain screamed with delight. If I was capable of actually feeling that delight, that would definitely have been the time for it. * * Sunday in Manhattan meant that I had a non-optional dinner invitation in Tribeca. Not going would automatically signal to the inviter that I was on the brink of death and soon enough the FBI, CIA and every other three-letter agency on Washington would come bearing down on my apartment at her behest. Perhaps I'm exaggerating, but with Jean Catherine Saunders, I never knew for sure. Neither did I want to find out. I put on the most expensive clothes I had, or the only clothes which would let the doorman allow me in. Even so, I got a long stare from him. Ten storeys up and I was in her corridor. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes early. Jeannie liked punctuality. I hastily smoothed out my hair and straightened my shirt. The door opened and a well-dressed man in his thirties walked out. He passed me in the corridor, giving me a knowing smile and a wink that made my balls crawl back into my body. Nevertheless, I rang the bell and was soon answered from the other side. "Jesus, you're already here? Damn! Give me a couple of minutes to straighten myself out." I waited patiently until the door swung open to reveal Jeannie with a huge smile on her face. I fleetingly wished I had it in me to smile like that before she engulfed me in a bear hug. "It's so good to see you again," she said with a quick peck on the cheek before escorting me inside. The apartment was large and lavishly decorated, appropriate for her. Paintings and antiques adorned most of the space. On the coffee table sat half a bottle of Scotch and the burnt out ends of two cigarettes were in the ashtray. I gave her a long side-eye as she went and sat down. "Sorry I started without you," she said. "You're drinking again?" "Yeah, Jason," she said, pouring out the golden liquid into two glasses. "Don't act shocked. I've quit like six times in the last ten years. Take the hint." "And I suppose that was future husband number five I met in the hallway earlier?" "Not husband number five material, that's for sure. As of now, he's Sunday." "Sunday? You have one for each day of the week?" I quipped back. "Well, I used to have two Saturdays before Immigration sent them back to... I'd like to say Mexico, but I never bothered to ask." Smoking like a chimney. Drinking like a fish. Being ridden more often than Space Mountain. Jeannie was doing all right. She was about the same every time I saw her. "Besides, election season is around the corner," she went on, handing me a glass. "If I start drinking now, maybe I'll be drunk enough to get through the next year without stabbing someone." "I saw your boss on the news last week. Looks like he won't be our next Senator." "But he will be an internet sensation for quite some time," Jeannie chuckled. "How can Jerry King be that flagrantly homophobic and then get caught with a barely legal twink in a hotel room?" "Three barely legal twinks," Jeannie corrected. "Don't you just love how every news channel alternates his rabidly anti-gay speeches with his perpwalk?" "The King is dead. Long live the King," I said, raising my glass for a toast. "It didn't take long for the Sterling camp to approach me, though. I got an offer yesterday to be their campaign manager for the upcoming election." "You really think that's a good idea?" I asked. "You've been on the opposite side for so long." "I've wanted to leave that asshole, King, for just as long. His politics were useless. The days of winning elections with "death to gays and abortionists" is gone and he was too old to get that into his head. His approval ratings were already going to hell. The only reason I stayed was a stupid clause he had put into my contract way back when. Now that he'll never be anything more than a tasteless meme, I'm free to go wherever I want." She emptied the rest of her glass and poured herself some more. "Besides, who do you think told the media the hotel and room number?" she winked salaciously. "But will Sterling's camp welcome you after all the work you've done against them?" "Let me tell you an axiom in politics, brother dearest," she slurred. "Grudges are only important if they get you more votes. Otherwise, if your constituents would like you to get on all fours and take it from behind, you will do it and you will smile for the cameras while you do. When Sterling shakes my hand at his next press conference and smiles, he will hate me from the core of his heart, but he will also learn to accept that I am the only one who can make him Senator and more." "And more?" "I've done my research, Jason. His background, his policies, his record. Five years later, we will talk about Dylan Sterling as the success story of our generation." "Speaking of success stories," she began. "How's the new company?" "Don't get me started. Those kids don't have the faintest clue what they are doing. Their business model is laughable, their short and long term goals are non-existent and their tech needs a major overhaul. The only thing they have going for them is the core idea. I'm not exaggerating, Jeannie, it's a game-changer. If only they can get the rest of it right, LiveTrade will be in every share trading platform in three years." "That's quite a bold prediction." "I put my money where my mouth is," I said, pouring myself some more Scotch. "I'm going to give them five million now and five more for the next stage of their launch." "You're handing them ten mil, just like that?" "It will be worth a hell of a lot more after their IPO," I said with a satisfied grin. "These kids have a goldmine on their hands, the only problem is that none of them know how to start digging." "Good for you then," Jeannie beamed. "I'll make an investment too, if you care for it. Probably not ten mil, but substantial nonetheless." "We'll take whatever we can get." Jeannie drunkenly reached over, slung her arm over my shoulder and snuggled up to me. Her breath was a cocktail of nicotine and alcohol. I hugged her back. "Jeannie, I can't cry. I want to cry for Lucy, but I don't know how. I still miss her." "Shh..." Jeannie said, holding me tighter. "Let it go. You grieve differently from all of us, but you grieve all the same." She pulled her face back and wiped a few tears from the corners of her eyes. "You look much better this week. You really do," she said softly. "I'm so proud of you and how far you've come." "Thanks for looking out for me, Jeannie." "Thanks won't cut it this time, bro. I didn't drag you all the way from California to New York just so you could be alone again. I'm going to set you up with a friend of mine. She's an investment banker at Goldman Sachs-" "Actually," I interrupted Jeannie mid-sentence. "I may have already met someone." "Hold the presses," she yelled dramatically. "My dopey little brother finally met someone. Did it involve a chloroform rag?" "Not yet, although that is my backup plan," I laughed. "It's Amanda Rossi from school." "Prom queen Amanda Rossi? Amanda Rossi, who you had this huge crush on?" "The very same. Nowadays, she goes by Amanda Rossi, Esquire. She has an office in the same building where the company is." "She became a lawyer? Figures, I guess. Jurors won't be able to take their eyes off her boobs long enough to care about the evidence. Is she any good at it?" "I don't know yet. I am having lunch with her tomorrow, so I'll ask." "How's that going then?" Jeannie asked interestedly. "To start off, she didn't recognize me. Then, she looked me up on the alumni website and... I'm a much more interesting person to her now." "She looked you up. Are you sure?" "Yeah, she told me so herself. Why?" I asked. "Because she now knows how rich you are. I bet that's why she's suddenly so interested in you." It took a few seconds for her words to sink into my brain. Logically, it made sense, but there was this age-old wall between wrong and Amanda that refused to give. Jeannie's tone and expression turned abruptly serious. "What did she say to you? I mean, what exactly." It was officially an interrogation now. "Nothing specific," I shrugged. "She asked me about how I've been coping and where I stay." "Did you tell her about your depression?" "You know it's something I prefer to keep to myself." "Damn, that sly bitch. She thinks she can take advantage of a recent widower's depression and squeeze him dry. That's low, even for a lawyer." "She hasn't-" I began, only to be cut off by a pad and a pen landing on the table before me. "There. Write down everything Amanda's told you about herself. Where she lives? Where she works? Don't miss anything out." "What're you going to do with this?" I asked, not entirely sure I wanted the answer. "I'll have some of my best investigators look into her. If she has money troubles, or a history of fucking rich men for their money, I need to know." "But-" "No buts. I promised I'd take care of you and this is a part of that. The guys I have in mind are good. They're the ones who dig up dirt on politicians I need dirt on." I put my drink down, suddenly not in the mood any more. Jeannie looked at me sympathetically. "I know you want to tell me I'm wrong and Amanda is not a money-chasing whore, but I'd rather find that out for myself. You can hate me all you want after I find out everything there is to find about her." "I need to go," I said, rising from the couch. "Dinner's almost ready." "I'm not hungry any more, Jeannie. Good night." Silence hung in the air for several long moments while Jeannie tried to make sense of my expression. "Wow. You still love her that much." She walked up to me and held my hands in hers and raised them to her chest. "Believe me, Jason, nothing would make me happier than being wrong about Amanda, but until I am, I have to do this. You've lost someone you loved. You're more vulnerable now than you know. If Amanda breaks your heart... well... you and I both know what happens when someone breaks your heart." As she said this, Jeannie softly traced two scars on my wrists. They were still as visible as eleven years ago, only less bloody. "It will only take a few days, Jason." Her thumb continued to trace out my scars as if committing the shape to memory. "C'mon. Dinner's getting cold." * * "Did you like the food?" "I like what came after," I smiled. The room was dark and we sat with our backs to the wall, staring out of her balcony at the glittering metropolis. Jeannie held her almost completed joint between her fingers. The end still glowed like a speck in the darkness. I took a drag of mine and let it sink in. "You go and tell your new boss that if he can find a way to legalize this shit, he has my vote." "I'll make sure it's his tagline," she beamed, miming a banner. "Weed for all." "Seriously, Jeannie, this is some quality stuff. Where'd you get this?" "A guy with a falafel cart two blocks over. He grows it himself." I finished my joint and stubbed out the embers. "It finished too soon," I whined. "Here, have another one," said Jeannie, procuring another joint and lighting it for my benefit. The lights of Manhattan coalesced into a single source which approached my finger. I poked at it and it burst open, scattering a riot of colours in every direction. The colours then reformed into smaller shapes, rapidly moving back and forth across the room. "You go and tell Amanda that if she breaks your heart, I will kill her slowly," she slurred from my side. "You got that, sport?" "I'm sure she'll be thrilled." "You know," Jeannie coughed through her latest joint. "I read a study somewhere about marijuana being an effective medication for depression." "I somehow doubt the AMA agrees. Otherwise they'd have a lot more folks with depression lining up for their pills." We laughed for no apparent reason. "I ran into Jeff at a fund-raiser last week." "Jeff?" I said, buying some time to remember through my drug addled haze. "Forty-something Broadway actor. Husband number two who you married on a drunk dare in Atlantic City and who left you to be with a nineteen year old underwear model six months later. Not to mention you slept with the entire cast of his current production to get back at him." "That's the one," she exclaimed. "He's moved on to his next wife. Her name's Katya and I couldn't understand what she did underneath that horrible accent." "And let me guess..." I cut her off, mid-sentence. "You and Jeff snuck off leaving poor Katya for a few hours." "You know me so well, brother dearest," Jeannie said with a laugh. There was a brief pause while she procured a fresh paper flute. "The way you absolutely loved Lucy. If I ever found a guy who loved me like that, I'd never let him go. The two of you were perfect." "Not even close," I corrected. "I loved her so much, but when it came to spending time with her, I was always too busy. There was always this bug to fix, or that module to redesign or that idea to try out. I cheated on her every day with my company." "That's not the same," Jeannie said, placing a comforting arm on my shoulder. "It's exactly the same," I went on. "All I ever wanted was to give her the dream life. I'd sell the company and then we'd never work another day ever again. I'd take her to a different European city for each day of the week." She patiently listened to my rant. "We had everything ready. The house in Beverly Hills. The cars. I wanted to tell her that everything I ever did was so that we could live like royalty for the rest of our lives, so I could give her anything she ever wanted. On the nights I came home, it was after she was asleep. I saw her for a couple of hours a week and you will not believe how much she looked forward to our time together. She even joked that she needed to set an appointment to see me since I was the CEO. Can you fucking believe it? The most important person to me in the world said she needed an appointment to see me. I promised myself I would make up these lost years to her and now I'll never get the chance. On that day when I found out, if someone told me that they could bring Lucy back for a day, hell, even an hour, if I gave them all my money, I would've done it in a heartbeat. Just so I could tell her how sorry I was. Just so I could say goodbye." Fuck, I hated this memory. I swiped my phone open and scrolled back through my call history. It took a few minutes before I found what I was looking for. "See this?" I said, showing her a call log. "It's from two weeks before she died. The deal was finalized, but there was a compatibility issue with Windows Phone. I worked four straight days and nights to fix it. She called up once, just to tell me that she loved me. She knew that I needed to hear her say that, so she called. That three minute call was all I heard of her that week. If I could go back in time, I'd shut all the servers and drag my ass back home so I could hold her and tell her how much I loved her in person. As if I could ever tell that to all that fucking money I was chasing." I took a deep breath, emotionally spent from my monologue. The wound was still raw and talking about it felt like having an knife twisted in it. I was used to feeling that way. If there is a God, I deserve all the pain and suffering he gave me for the way I mistreated Lucy. Lucy, that damn fool. She loved me all the same. Instinctively, I grabbed Jeannie by the collar and buried my face in her shoulder. She continued to listen, not saying a word. "Even if my fantasy of Amanda is a lie, please don't tell me right away. I need this dream so badly." She wrapped her arms around me and held me to herself. It was cold on the floor and the lights were still swimming. Hundreds of thousands of brilliant sparks exploded in my head and blinded me in their incandescent glare. Then, all at once, there was silence, punctuated with a faint horn from the street below. Jeannie didn't say anything, but the way she held me to herself told me that everything would be all right. I'm jealous of her for being able to believe that. * * "I'm hoping the food here is better than that awful cafeteria." "Cross my heart and hope to die," chuckled Amanda. "It's actually got rave reviews on Yelp." Dreams I Cannot Dream Ch. 01 I sat down at her recommended gastropub, Breslin. From the outside, it looked like a regular bar with a few extra tables, but it had a menu to rival any fancy eatery in Manhattan. She called the waiter and ordered for both of us. "So, I have something for us as well," I said, taking out two tickets from my pocket. "US Open semi-final tickets. We get to watch Federer and Wawrinka day after tomorrow." "Oh my God!" she squealed and threw her arms around my neck. "You have no idea how much of a tennis fan I am." Actually I did have a fair idea. I even knew that she had played at a semi-pro level in college. Jeannie's investigators were nothing if not thorough on their background checks. She released me and kept that smile intact. It wasn't a smile, but a work of art. Her eyes danced in the light as she fixed her gaze onto me. She had a worn an emerald green dress which brought out a nice contrast to her eyes. "How did you get the tickets? They were sold out weeks in advance." "Oh, I know a guy," I waved off. In truth, Jeannie knew a guy who knew a guy, but my date didn't need to hear that detail. "Are you going to our school reunion next month?" she asked hopefully. "I'm organizing it and you could be the guest of honour if you want." "Let me see," I said with a look of mock concentration. "Do I want to go and meet the same jocks who made my teenage a living hell?" "Was it really that bad?" "This one time, three guys from the football team stuffed me face first into the trash chute. I spent hours staring at garbage before the janitor and nurse wrenched me out." "That's awful," Amanda gasped. "Tell me who they were and I'll cancel their invitation." "I didn't see two of them, but the leader was your boyfriend." "Which boyfriend?" she asked quizzically. "Billy Mitchell. The six-foot tall star receiver on the team." "That..." she started before sighing. "Unfortunately that sounds exactly like the kind of thing Billy would do." "Do you know where he is now?" I asked. "I broke up with him after we graduated. If I had to guess, I'd say he's twirling a sign outside a Verizon store somewhere in LA." We shared a laugh. The appetizers were brought to the table with an accompanying bottle of wine. "Can I ask you a personal question?" She nodded in response. "What on earth did you see in Billy?" "He was tall, handsome and played on the football team. At that age, that's all it takes. You see, Jason, we girls are bombarded with criteria for an ideal man from when we can fucking walk. Some like the Prince Charming's among guys, some like the bad boys. It's the way we're programmed, to be idiot high school sluts. It's only after that do we get to see the men of the world for who they really are. You ask any girl our age what she would say to her younger self and it will always be - hold on to a geek and never let go. He'll love you and care for you like these dumbass jocks don't even know how to." Both of us took a sip of wine before she resumed. "You definitely don't need to worry about running into Billy at the reunion. I wouldn't call him even if I still knew his number." "He was hardly the only one. Look, Amanda, it's a long list of people who I never want to see again that you'll be inviting. Not all of them are bad people. It's just that they used to be normal high school bullies. Sadly, that's how I still remember them." "Still there had to be someone you liked." I idly turned my fork through my appetizer and smiled to myself. The answer herself had asked me the question. "So how long have you been in New York?" I asked, hoping to change the topic. "About a year. My practice is just a few months old though. Still finding my feet." "Quite a nice office though, with a receptionist and paralegals." "Can't complain," she shrugged. "My Dad is paying for most of it. The lease and all their salaries. It's way more than I'm bringing in right now." "Your Dad's here with you?" "He moved to Manhattan after the divorce." No small factor in Amanda's popularity in school was the fact that her father was a VP at a real estate company and had all the monetary benefits of a VP to lavish on her. He had recently traded up to SVP at one of the bigger property developers in Midtown. "You'd think that after twenty nine years he'd start treating me like his grown ass daughter and not some pet project." "I think I'll be taking that," I said, carefully sliding her glass of wine away from her before it could do more damage. We finished up the few remaining starters on our plates. "C'mon, let's go outside. I've got a surprise for you." I hastily left a few bills on the table and led her to my newest acquisition. "Aren't you a little young for a mid-life crisis?" she asked, eyeing the sleek sports bike parked outside. "It's called doing something I want to do, not something I'm supposed to, for once," I said, running my fingers over the gleaming chrome finish. "How about a ride?" "Really? Are we teenagers again?" "God, I wish I had a Hayabusa as a teenager. It would have definitely gotten me some more attention from the girls." Amanda still looked at me with a mixture of incredulity and suspicion. I tried one last time. "I'll go to the reunion. One ride on this baby is all I ask in return." "You drive a hard bargain," she giggled, climbing on behind me. "Where are we going?" "The world is our oyster, m'lady." Riding through the city definitely made me feel like an old man. Frequently, I could see fellow commuters and pedestrian staring at the two of us. After all, driving a superbike in New York's traffic was only for the terminally insane or filthy rich. It so happened I was both. Approaching city limits, I revved up some speed. She held on to me tightly, her arms clasped around my front and her chin resting on my back. It felt surreal, being so tightly entwined in her. We were mostly alone on the highway. A solitary vehicle showed up every once in a while. I put all my limited practice into keeping us steady at over a hundred. "Where were you all this time?" Amanda screamed from behind me. "I like this version so much more." A few houses appeared along both sides of the road as we approached a town. I slowed down and let the locals gawk at the metallic beast underneath us. "How do you feel?" I asked her. "Better than I have in years," she squealed. "I'm never going out with someone again unless he has a bike. Scratch that, unless he has this bike." A few turns later, we saw the entrance to a dive bar with a row of Hogs parked outside. She motioned me to stop from behind. "Keep the engine running, Jason." "Why?" I asked quizzically. In response, she giggled, still feeling the effects of the wine. "Because I'm about to this," she said. The next few seconds unfurled in slow motion. She kicked the Hog on the far end of the lot and it slumped onto the next. On and on they fell like a line of dominoes, taking the rail with them. The noise attracted a whole lot of unwanted attention. Before I had time to digest the whole situation, she slid back to her spot behind me and locked her arms around my waist. I could feel a distinct chill run down my spine as I surveyed the damage. Briefly, I hoped the owners of these bikes were either mild-mannered or too drunk to take immediate action. My hopes were cruelly dashed when a couple of gigantic bikers burst out of the bar, not looking too impressed by the spectacle in front of them. "I strongly suggest you start this bike," she leaned over and whispered to me. It took the best part of a second for me to unfreeze before I turned the bike around and sped off. I had a sizeable head-start before I heard a couple of Harleys starting in the distance. It still didn't stop me from doing my best Valentino Rossi impression out of that town. Most of the locals we passed were bewildered by my madcap antics. I had sped my way to a safe distance from our pursuers before I stopped to catch my breath. I took off my helmet and stared at her, utterly flabbergasted. "What the hell, Amanda?" "Relax. You don't even have a permanent number plate yet, so they won't be able track you. You gotta admit though. That was one hell of a rush, right? I've never done anything like that." "You do know that if one of those bikers back there caught us, it could have been the very last rush we got." "I know, but that's what made it great. This is the first spontaneous thing I've done without getting Dad's approval first. I'm guessing it's a first for you too. Didn't it feel great, the thrill of not knowing what was coming next?" "If you don't mind I'll get my thrills on Netflix from now on." "Don't be such a stick in the mud," she whined. "You're spoiling the coolest thing either of us has ever done." I chose not to answer as I checked my GPS for the way back to the city. The rest of our ride passed in relative silence. Soon, we were among the unpleasantly familiar traffic snarls of the city. She directed me to her apartment building. "Thanks for an awesome date," she smiled, making me temporarily forget how she almost got us in trouble before. "I enjoyed it more than you know." Before I could reply, she wrapped her arm around me and latched her lips onto mine. Her tongue was slow and methodical in its movements, navigating a course over mine. Her eyes were inches away from mine now, those flecked sapphire blue pools which could overwhelm me at a moment's notice. For what felt like the span between The Big Bang and the first cat video to be uploaded on YouTube, I felt high on my newest drug, Amanda. The touch, feel, taste, smell and sight of her drowned me into an abyss with no name. I was eighteen again, watching Amanda and her date dance at prom and kiss. In my mind, of course, it was me holding her hand, kissing her lips and whispering nerdy sweet nothings into her (ones that I had prepared in my room at night no less). Almost twelve years later, every single moment I had spent fantasizing this moment flashed before my eyes. Time resumed when I felt the soft lips leave my face, wrenching a bit of my heart out with them. She looked at me with her piercing gaze and an unseemly tremor played on her lips. "We'll talk about this later," she mumbled, staggering backwards and then into the building. My world was normal again. Normal with a Hayabusa which I had only bought to impress her. The best fifteen thousand ever spent. * * "I'm not kidding, Lucy, she actually did that." I turned to my side and looked at the favourite part of my bedside table. "The next thing I know, this huge bearded biker comes out of the bar. He's got more tats than skin and he looked like he distinctly wanted to rip my head off and hang it from one of his Harley's handlebars. Another guy comes up behind him, not looking too different. I must have broken the land speed record on my way out of that place." I could almost hear Lucy laughing. My memory of her voice had this distinct melodious tone. "And then when I dropped her off, she kissed me." There was silence in room, punctuated only by my deep breathing. "I had almost forgotten what that felt like, to be kissed. Every time I close my eyes, I can see her lips hovering in front of me. When I open my eyes, I want to see them again. She's everything I remember and more. I'm sorry. This is our time and I shouldn't be talking about a girl I'm going out with. It's just that there was a time before I knew and fell in love with you... and then I was hopelessly in love with Amanda Rossi. It's just that I never thought I'd get to kiss her." I pulled my duvet to my chin. "You deserve better than to be a consolation prize, Lucy. I loved you more than I know how to put in words. I only wish I had shown you how much before that day... My therapist wants me to move on. Jeannie wants me to move on. Everybody fucking wants me to move on. Why? What is wrong with feeling this pain if it is all that reminds me of you?" Pain purified. It distilled. It cut out all the background noise in my brain until all I had left was what's important. Lucy had left an aching void that I never knew existed. If only I could have gone back to when solitude was my only companion. If only I could undo all that Lucy had done to me. If only I could have gone back in time and cut my wrists deep enough. None of this would have happened. No it is not better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Fuck you, Tennyson. "I deserve another chance at happiness, don't I?" I asked Lucy. As was the case on the last hundred and ninety seven nights I had asked her, she did not reply. I fumbled at my bedside for the remote to my home theatre. The only bit of music I owned was a playlist Lucy had put together for our second anniversary. It was entirely romantic. Up until her death, I had listened to it maybe once. Now, I knew every word of every song. The lyrics cut into me like little knives, ripping at old wounds and creating fresh ones. I lay there, facing the ceiling and bleeding inside. The exquisite pain of interrupted love coursed through my body. Those wounds never healed, only grew deeper. "Hey, asshole. Turn the music off. We're trying to sleep in here." I hastily apologized through the wall and did the needful. * * The next day, I showed up in the evening. There was something distinctly different about the atmosphere at LiveTrade. I could immediately tell something was wrong. Very wrong. Chase and the rest of the employees at LiveTrade were doing their best headless chicken impressions, running from terminal to terminal. I almost bumped into two of them before they realized I was there. "What's wrong?" I asked, mentally ready to hear something I wouldn't like. "One of our beta testers just reported a bug. It's a bad one." I vaguely heard amidst the din. "If the user enters a certain special character while creating a new account, the app crashes." "How common is this character?" "Common enough to be a problem. We go live tomorrow." I did a quick scan of the room and it turned out that Helen and Kirsten looked more disappointed than frantic. I beckoned them over and asked. "We had a party planned at the Plaza to celebrate our launch. Just close friends and family. The invites went out to all of our families days in advance." "Oh right," I said, vaguely remembering an email to that effect. "Are none of you really going?" Jordan peeked over the screen to nod briefly before immersing himself again in code. I slumped into the nearest available chair and motioned everyone towards me. "I know I'm not really here to give out words of wisdom, but bear with me this once. I promise I'll keep it short." I certainly had their attention, however briefly. "If you ever have a conflict between work and making time for your friends and family, it should be a no-contest. Friends and family always win. Period." They listened with rapt attention. "That was code for - go to the fucking Plaza." "But what about the-" "That's where I come in," I said, calmly getting myself a seat. "I just need the credentials to one of your workstations and I'm good to go." Blank stares all around. A pin dropped two offices over could be heard. "You want to fix the bug?" Jordan asked hesitantly, as if not quite trusting his ears. "No, Jordan. I went through the most demanding CS major in the country so I could sit in an office and give orders. I created a codebase ten times this size on my own not so long back. I think I'll manage." "Are you sure?" Chase started. "The party isn't really that big a deal." "Let me stop you right there. You have no clue how badly I want to go back to where you guys are right now. Given another chance, I'd dump my work every damn time my wife wanted to see me. It's a simple formula really - work your ass off when you get the time, but the second your family needs you, be there. I wish I had someone to tell me this five years ago." I finally sighed. "Just give me one of your login credentials and go already. That's an order." Still dazed, the entire team of LiveTrade shuffled out through the doors, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. No doubt what I said made little sense to them then, but I hoped it would in the near future. More important matters were at hand, mostly based around an errant double byte character. I did a few preliminary tests to confirm the extent of the problem. It would require all of my jedi powers to fix. I stole a glance at my watch to see my investigation had left me past dinner time. Damn, I was rusty. A quick dinner and a metric ton of coffee to keep me upright was called for. I made my way to the sorry excuse for a cafeteria. To my surprise, Amanda was also there, eating out of a paper bag. "Long night ahead?" She nodded in response, laying out some food on a tray. "I've got a bug to fix. What's your excuse?" "The judge moved up the next hearing on one of my cases. I've been preparing the strategy since yesterday and am still grossly under-prepared." "Anything interesting?" "Not OJ material. My guy may or may not have hidden the real profits of his company from his partners so as to give them a smaller share," she said briskly, digging into her bag for more. "Is that code for he's guilty?" "No, Jason. It's code for I-had-better-get-him-cut-loose-since-he's-my-biggest-client." We talked in banalities for a few more minutes. Every subtle movement of those sumptuous red lips replayed the kiss in my mind. "Anyway, it was nice talking to you. I should go now." Amanda got up to leave. Those lips moving out of my field of vision snapped me back to reality. "Amanda, wait," I said abruptly. She looked back at me, raising her brow. I stood up and held her hand. "About the other day-" I began, stopping when she understood what I was talking about. She pursed her lips and looked at the ground for a few minutes. Somewhere behind those perfectly shaped blue eyes, she was debating her kiss. Maybe she was reconsidering that restraining order from before. "Jason, I'm really too busy now. We'll talk about it later. I promise." "Sure," I smiled, jamming an imaginary glass shard into my heart. "Whenever you want to. No pressure." A little bit of me will die every second until you do but, seriously, no pressure. I waited for her to leave before I tossed the rest of my food in the trash. My appetite had suddenly waned. I needed to bury myself in work in the worst way possible. Thankfully, I had enough of that ahead of me. I went back to my screen in time to see Chase post his party pics on Instagram. All their family and friends were there and they seemed to have a good time. It gave me a small inward glow of pride knowing I had helped it happen. "Back to the code." I stuck to my task gamely for an hour or so, making decent progress. It was almost midnight when Amanda walked in through the doors, officially creating new ground for me to worship. She looked like someone not used to pulling all-nighters. "Need more coffee?" I asked helpfully. "No," she said softly, taking a quick glance around the empty office. I was going to ask her if she was sure when her lips mashed into mine, effectively leaving me with the vocabulary of a chipmunk. The cup of coffee in my hand unhelpfully spilled onto my shirt and the table. I didn't care. It could have set my shirt on fire and I still wouldn't have cared. Her arms wrapped around my neck drawing me into the kiss and her tongue swept through my mouth, furiously trying to coax mine out of shock induced paralysis. Dreams I Cannot Dream Ch. 01 It was the kiss from three days ago, only with infinitely more passion. Her lips left mine at intervals to catch a breath, but then reattached themselves. Her hands deftly worked on my buttons, stripping my shirt off. I helped her with my pants, suddenly finding motor control again. She pushed me back on the table and took a step back to take in my shirtless form. "So I see you made up your mind," I said coyly. "Life's too short to do the right thing all the time. Sometimes, you have to switch off your rational brain and just do what your inner idiot wants." "Your inner idiot has great taste," I commented before going mute. She had chosen this precise moment to take off her top. The subject of much fantasizing was finally before me. It was more than I had ever imagined. Her skin was almost porcelain pale and smooth. Her body was slim, but not overly so. She had the lean musculature of an occasional runner and her bra could not justice to the firm tits behind it. They almost burst out of her chest. "Like the view?" she winked, undoing the clasp from behind. Surely it was a rhetorical question. Her breasts did not sag even a bit, her nipples proudly sticking out towards me. My hungry gaze followed her slender legs to the neatly trimmed patch between them. "I know this is not what you want me to say right now, but your client is not going to be happy tomorrow." "Fuck him. He's as guilty as sin." Amanda almost ripped off the last bit of clothing on my body, freeing my cock for her viewing pleasure. My head firmly remained in the clouds as her fingers wrapped around the shaft, jerking back and forth. She lowered her mouth over the head, swirling her tongue over it. I was as responsive as a mannequin so she took matters into her own hands, jacking my cock in and out of her mouth. Each time her tongue slurped my sensitive underside, it made a jolt of pleasure race through my body. Finally, she stood up, still holding my turgid member in her hands. She smiled and pushed me back over the desk. She straddled me with one leg, her inflamed pussy lips brushing my cock head. "Are you sure?" she asked coquettishly. "Once we do this, there's no going back." After the most resounding yes in the history of mankind, she finally impaled herself on my cock, sending me straight into delirium. There was nothing else that mattered for the time being. Sadly, it looked increasingly likely that LiveTrade version 1.0 would have one known issue. Oh well, there was always a quick version 1.1 to fix that. * *