“Excuse me, but you’ve been believing it for two fucking years!” I scream into the phone. It takes me about two seconds to realize my mistake. Shit! I slap my hand over my mouth to stop the overflowing verbal vomit before I say anything else.
“What did you just say?” Dammit. Damn. Shit. I know Greg doesn’t mean to ignore everyone around him. He has every right to be worried about Izzy and his recovery from his injuries sustained that God-awful day. It isn’t fair to hold anything against him, but in my mind, I just can’t seem to separate my pain and loneliness.
“It’s not important. I’m fine,” I stress, praying he’ll just leave it alone.
“Goddammit, Dee! I know you aren’t fine. I saw you breaking down like your world just crashed in around you yesterday. That isn’t how someone that is just fine acts. You can’t push that shit off on a bad day, your period, or someone stealing your newspaper. There’s something going on, and you aren’t just fucking fine!”
“Okay, Greg, I’m going to say this the nicest way I can. Don’t worry about me. You have enough to worry about, and honestly, you know I love you like a brother, but right now, I don’t need your protectiveness. Give Cohen a hug and tell Melissa I said hi. I’m going to bed now. I have to be in the office early tomorrow so I can get everything done and get home. Greg, I mean it… Stop. Goodnight, I love you, go hug your wife.” I disconnect the call without giving him a second to protest or pull his crap. He’ll be pissed, but he’ll also get over it. After turning off my phone and pulling the covers up, I settle in for another restless night of sleeplessness.
****
My wake-up call comes at 4:45 A.M., about an hour after I finally manage to stop freaking out about the dark, jumping from every sound that I heard coming in from the window, and my mind finally shut down. I never sleep well when I’m away from my house, so I’m not sure why I thought this time would be any different.
Groggy, annoyed, and a whole lot pissed off isn’t a good way to start the day, especially knowing that I’m about to have another pile of shit land in my lap when I get into the office.
My office back in Georgia is decent in size. I have three other agents and a few other staff members. It’s not the largest, but it works for us. Back home, I’ve just moved into the same strip of businesses where Corps Security is located. When the building came up, I jumped on it. It isn’t that I need a new office, but my old one was out of an old house that had been remodeled into an office. The downside, it was in the middle of nowhere, and I had become scared to even be there by myself. So, I didn’t waste time signing the paperwork for the new space.
Here, my office is slightly larger. I’ve got six agents, plus they each have their own assistants. I had the building built from the ground up, and when it was finally finished and open for business, the sense of pride had been overwhelming. I’ve always been so proud of this office and the staff, and how we’ve managed to thrive when other small businesses have crashed.
This is my baby.
And every day that a new fire starts within the office, I want nothing more than to give this ‘baby’ up for adoption. The thrill is gone, and more importantly, I don’t feel even an ounce of pride when I walk in the doors.
Being that I’m about two hours early, and the staff shouldn’t even be in until eight, shocked would be an understatement when I pull up and see some lights on. I have been so lost in thought that, when I drive up, I don’t even check the front lot before I pull my car behind the building. I guess this would explain the ridiculous power bills; idiots keep the lights on all night! Since I’m the only one that ever parks back here, it doesn’t even cross my mind to wait until normal hours to go in.
My phone chimes a few times before I make it to the back door, and with a huff, I dig it out of my back pocket and start checking my alerts and emails. Unlocking the door quickly, I walk into the back break room, kitchen area, with my phone still in front of my face. Bad habit of mine, having the phone be a constant attachment to my body, but when you’re running two companies in two different states, you need to be available at all times.
I brush off the tingling feeling that makes my skin crawl. Being this early, I’m not surprised that I’m having another one of my ridiculous fears creep up on me. I make another mental note to talk to the doctor about that. I’m too damn old to be afraid of every bump in the night.
Speaking of, I clear the alert reminding me of my appointment with Dr. Maxwell, and switch over to my emails again and surf through the crap while I wait for the coffee to brew. My mind is struck stupid when I see a message from my mother, asking me to schedule in a call at my earliest convenience. Ha, I don’t think so. Deleting the rest of the junk, I pull up my text screen to send Chelcie a message to let her know that I’ve made it in and will see her when she arrives.