CH 3: A Blast From The Past
"Daddy, I don't feel good."
Paul checked Kira's forehead. She wasn't hot to the touch, nor was she running a fever, but she was awfully pale. Her usual rosy cheeks were ghostly white. Kira had complained of fatigue and a headache for a few days now. He thought she had come down with a case of hay fever, but this, this made him worrisome.
"Sarah!"
Sarah walked in, in the midst of putting on her earrings. "What's wrong?"
Paul sat Kira up, and began changing her out of her pajamas. "We've got to take her to the hospital."
Sarah noticed, almost immediately, that Paul was visibly distraught. He cared for Kira and loved her deeply, as any father would their child, but she thought he was overreacting. Of the two, Paul was definitely the helicopter parent.
Sarah checked her watch. It was still early. "I'll take her to Dr. Schultz. I'll call in later, and work from home today. That way, I can be with monkey all day. Make her lunch in bed; how's that sound?"
Kira immediately took comfort in that; she beamed brightly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Go. Someone has to supervise the demolition team." Sarah gave Paul a quick peck on the lips. "I've got nothing but paperwork scheduled for today, anyways."
"You'll call me if anything happens, right?"
"Not if you call me first."
Paul bent down, and kissed Kira on the head. "You be good for mommy, okay, monkey?"
"I will."
Sarah picked Kira up, "Let's go, sweetie. We're going to see your favorite doctor today."
- o -
The main hall was buzzing with life, with too many pairs of busy hands to count, and too many bodies to care. The Mont Tremblant Resort was Black Crown Corp.'s latest investment. The entire resort had been three years in the making, with more than $28 million invested. After all that time, effort, and money, the resort was finally ready to open its doors for business. And right at the front and center of that battle, was none other than Alison Black.
The resort had a total of three conference halls. For the upcoming masquerade party, they had the room dividers taken down, merging all three halls into one gigantic ball room. It was absolute madness, all packed into one convenient location.
Donnie felt like he was a needle in a haystack; not only was he out of place, he was at a lost, and waiting to be rescued. Everybody had a job, and kept busy; while he, on the other hand, found no purpose or source of entertainment, other than to abuse the helium in the balloons. Nobody appreciated his witty puns. Or his amazing rendition of Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive'.
"Baby Jesus, help me." Alison came storming up to stage area.
"What's wrong, honey?" Donnie said, in his helium enriched voice.
"That event planner!" Alison grunted. "Ugh. I have half a mind to strangle that water-buffalo."
"Be nice."
"Can you believe it? I specifically asked that the tablecloths be Venetian red, to match the center piece flowers, but that imbecile gave me Falu red. If you don't know the difference in the different hues of red, you shouldn't have become an event planner!"
Donnie peaked out from behind Alison. The tablecloths were red, and that was it. He had no idea there were other shades of red. But after all these years of being married, Donnie's learned it's best not to poke a beehive, under any circumstances.
"You want to get out of here?" Donnie asked suggestively, "Make the most of this get-away weekend? We are at a five-star resort. And the beds, I heard, are heavenly."
Alison had her hands on her hips, her cheeks slightly flushed. Donnie's suggestion wasn't entirely bad; she could not stand to go another round with that hungry hungry hippo.
"You want to make a French Canadian baby? We can name him François Noël-Rémy Hendrix. How's that for obnoxious?"
"Holy fish sticks!"
"Huh. Who would've thought baby names were such a turn-on for you? Good to know."
"No." Alison brushed Donnie aside. "The amaryllis, for the center piece, they're here already. They're not supposed to arrive until Friday night. They'll all wilt before the guests arrive."
"Alright. We're out of here. Come on, honey, let's go explore the hotel." Donnie had to physically drag Alison out of there. "We'll start in the janitor's closet. That's where a lot of my high school friends got pregnant. Maybe it'll help if you drink, too. The girls got super pregnant from all the booze."
Alison followed Donnie's lead. But as she was led out, she made eye contact with the Wicked Witch of the West; they locked eyes. "You're about as useful as a fart in a jam jar, you are."
"Let's go, honey, keep the craziness for the bedroom."
Alison gestured with her hands, and mouthed "I'm watching you."
- o -
Shanghai, China.
Daniel slammed back his fifth shot of the evening. It wasn't any cheap store bought brand. No. If there's one thing the Chinese loves, it's their liquor, and they fucking loved Hennessy XO.
This was his third time in the country, but his very first time in the city of Shanghai. The city had a vibrant night life, almost rivaling that of Manhattan's Meatpacking District. The clubs were more or less the same: bright lights, booze, and skinny clad girls. Daniel couldn't care less about the nightlife here. He wasn't here to socialize. He was here for business.
This meeting had taken him six months to arrange. He had to move heaven and Earth, and exhaust every single one of his Asian contacts, just so he could arrange this paramount meeting. This particular guest only takes clientele based on referrals only. If you weren't referred by any one respectable, it's best to safe yourself the trip.
Daniel threw back one last shot; that was his limit, and he had reached it. He needed clarity. He was currently sandwiched between two girls that looked about twenty pounds underweight. They spoke broken English, but were understandable. It was almost midnight, yet his guest had yet to arrive.
Daniel was here to meet the Director of Distributions of Tin Wang Constructions. Tin Wang Constructions was the single largest supplier of building materials in all of Asia, and a top five contender on an international scale. They had connections and wholesale prices that were unseen and unmatched, by the likes of even the big players.
Not only was he made to grovel, he had to practically get down on his knees and suck Rachel's cock, before she granted him the Emerald City budgets account. But in the end, it was all worth it. With Rachel's go-ahead, he was now in charge of the project's G&A, or as it's otherwise known as: overhead. Anything that required money to be withdrawn from the expense account, he had the final say. The Emerald City project had a potential budget of $30 million, with a seed round to be raised fairly soon; its potential was limitless. Daniel was practically salivating, just thinking about it.
"Give your boss a call, and see where he is."
"No need."
Speak of the devil. Daniel got up, and shook his hand. "Daniel Rosen."
"Ethan Wang."
"Please, sit."
Ethan Wang was a small man. Daniel couldn't pinpoint what it was, but he gave him the impression that he was a petty man as well. They sat across from each other. The room was fairly spacious, but even so, Daniel was starting to feel claustrophobic. And hot. The room was incredibly hot. It had to be the alcohol. He needed to close this deal, before he passed out drunk.
"You're an impatient man, Mr. Rosen." Ethan spoke in a fairly neutral accent. "I've yet to accept your offer, yet here you are, in my backyard. You're that confident that I'll accept your proposal?"
Daniel wasn't in the mood to dick around. "You're a businessman. As am I. This project is simply too lucrative for you to pass up. So let's cut to the chase: can we close this deal?"
"No." Ethan Wang said without hesitation, "It's far too complicated. And the risk associated with the project isn't worth the return. You may be a businessman, Mr. Rosen, but like you said, so am I."
"What's your ask?"
"Based on your direct cost estimation, almost $15 million of that will be on supplies and manual labor. My guys ran the numbers. If we close this deal, we'll be able to pocket $3.7 million. And that's just a conservative estimation."
"Walk me through it."
"It's fairly straightforward." Ethan gestured for a drink, to moisten his lips. "We're simply replacing all the brand name supplies with domestic ones. Now let me iterated: we're not cutting corners, by any means. All our building materials meet the safety regulations set forth by the Canadian Federation of Construction Safety. We're not amateurs. It's just a matter of brand names. Why pay a premium price for a brand name, when the store brand is just as good, if not better, might I add."
"Meanwhile, I keep…"
"…billing the company, for said premium price."
"Where are the goods manufactured?"
"In the City of Tianjin. All shipments are shipped, via the Port of Tianjin."
Daniel liked what he was hearing. And it was obvious that this wasn't Ethan Wang's first rodeo. He knew exactly what he was doing. No wonder he was the go-to guy for this line of business. But even so, Daniel wasn't about to oblige and allow the man to steal half his hard earnings.
Daniel asked again, "What's your ask?"
"I want to be fifty-fifty partners."
Daniel sat there, stone-faced; neither spooked nor shaken. "No. I'll go thirty-five, and that's it."
"You insult me, Mr. Rosen." Ethan edged from his seat. "What if word gets back to that lovely wife of yours, that you're planning to steal from right under her nose. I can't imagine that will help with the foreplay in the bedroom."
Daniel's nostrils flared. He had to suppress the compulsive urge to crack his head wide open with a wine bottle. If there's one thing he will not tolerate, it was blackmail.
"Think of this as a trial run. If our collaboration should go off without a hitch, there's bound to be plenty more opportunities for us to collaborate again in the near future. We'll renegotiate my terms then." Ethan reasoned.
Daniel stood up and offered up his hand, "Forty-five percent, and we close now."
Ethan gladly accepted. "Deal. We'll have the shipment prepped and ready for transport by the week's end."
"Great." Daniel had held off the effects of the alcohol long enough. His vision was starting to blur; his legs weak below the knees. "We'll speak soon."
"Not so fast, Mr. Rosen."
Ethan called for the duty manager, and said something in Mandarin Chinese. Daniel had not the foggiest clue what was happening, but after a minute or so, it's apparent. The duty manager returned with two girls in tow. They were pretty, but in a superficial sense, with their heavy makeup and extensions. But there was more. From his blazer, he pulled out a tiny glass vial. With careful hands, he shaped out five white lines of powdery goodness.
"A celebration is in order." Ethan Wang handed Daniel a rolled up yuan bill. "Only the best money can buy. Shipped straight from Guangzhou."
Daniel allowed his inebriation to get the best of him. He accepted.
"Think of it as a thank you gift, Mr. Rosen." Ethan grabbed one of the girl's breasts, and gave it a good old squeeze. "You will not be disappointed."
- o -
Sarah had practically spent the entire day by Kira's side. She even went so far as to confiscate Kira's work desk, just so she could work without having to leave her side. Kira was currently tucked in bed. It was much earlier than her usual bedtime, but she was tired, and still much too weak to do anything else. But she was looking a lot better than she was this morning. Before Kira was whisked away by the Sandman, she insisted on giving Paul a call. They talked for more than thirty minutes, before fatigue finally consumed Kira's tiny body.
Dr. Timothy Schultz had made an exception, and did a house call this morning. When he realized who was on the other line, and the gravity of the situation, he was more than willing to accommodate. That was one of the perks of being a Black: everybody wanted to kiss your ass.
Dr. Schultz checked Kira's vitals, and her temperature. She wasn't running a fever, which was excellent news, so they could rule out an infection. Dr. Schultz then proceeded to draw five vials of blood for bloodwork and further testing. After an hour, he merely prescribed a week's dose of broad spectrum antibiotic as a precaution, and plenty of bedrest for Kira, until they can determine a cause for her symptoms. But he assured her, Kira was not in any immediate danger. That was this morning. Dusk had long fallen, and night was in full bloom, yet Sarah was still waiting to hear back from Dr. Schultz.
Sarah took ten minutes for a quick shower. She had her phone by the sink the entire time, though it didn't ring. It was five past eight in the evening, and just when Sarah had given up hope on hearing back from Dr. Schultz, the man's caller ID finally popped up on her home screen. Sarah closed Kira's door behind her, and decided to take the call in her office.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Black. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No. Not at all. Have you gotten Kira's lab results yet?"
"I have them right here."
"And?"
"It appears Kira has iron-deficiency anemia. In laymen's terms, it means her body isn't getting enough healthy red blood cells due in part to an iron deficiency."
Sarah suddenly found herself gripping her phone with all her might. "Is it serious, Doctor? Should we take her to a hospital? Get her admitted?"
"There's no need to panic, Ms. Black." Dr. Schultz continued, "It's not life-threatening. It's rare for a child this age to develop anemia, but it's not totally unheard of. Kira will have to adjust her dietary intake, but it's nothing too bothersome. In the worst case scenario, we'll start her on iron-therapy, though I don't think that'll be necessary, not until she reaches puberty and starts menstruating."
"So she'll be fine, is what you're saying?"
"Well, it really depends on what your definition—"
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Doctor!"
"Yes! She'll be fine, Ms. Black." Dr. Schultz assured her, "I want you to come in with Kira tomorrow, so we can do a full body checkup. I want to make sure it's not an absorption problem. And I want to rule out any intestinal disorders, as well."
A sense of relief washed over Sarah, "Yeah. Sure, Doctor, sounds good. Is that all?"
"No. There's actually one more thing. When we took Kira's medical history this morning, could there have been a mistake?"
Sarah ran a hand through her damp hair, "Please, don't bumble, Dr. Schultz, I'm too knackered for your word games."
"We did an ABO typing this morning, in case Kira needed a blood transfusion, we wanted to be certain what her blood type was, to minimize the risk of a transfusion reaction."
Sarah was still clueless as to where this was going. "Okay."
"Well, in your medical history, you gave your blood type as being O Positive, and Mr. Dierden as being B Positive. But the ABO typing indicates that Kira is type AB Negative. Not many hospitals have that specific blood type in stock. It's the rarest blood type there is." Dr. Schultz said matter-of-factly. "That's why it jumped out at me."
Sarah sat there with her mouth agape, eyes stunned, and her blood frigid cold. A shockwave circulated in her body, and left her completely paralyzed. The air escaped both her lungs, as her heart skipped a beat; her chest ached heavily. Sarah wanted to vomit; her heart was in her throat.
"Hello? Ms. Black? Are you….Did the fucking call drop again? Jesus!"
"I'm still here." Sarah muttered softly.
"Oh. Sorry about that."
Sarah shook herself from her brain freeze. "No, you're right, Dr. Schultz. I might have mixed up Paul's medical history with someone else's. It's a good thing you caught it."
"Well, it's why I am the best." Dr. Schultz said rather proudly.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Sarah brought both her knees up to her chest, and she cradled herself. She sat there, completely dumbfounded and stupefied. After God knows how long of zoning out, Sarah ran her fingers through her damp hair once more, and simply said, "Fuck."
- o -
The restaurant was on the fifth floor, but the damn elevator had been stuck on the basement level for the longest time. In the end, Cosima found herself running up five flights of stairs, with her bag in one hand, and her pair of heels in the other. There was no way in bloody Hell she would be able to run in those God forsaken heels. By the time she made it up those laborious stairs, she was thoroughly winded. Cosima had half a mind to take up smoking again, just so she could have an excuse as to why she was so out of shape.
"I'm so sorry."
Shay had an amused look that just about says it all. "Aren't you always?"
"What can I say? I'm kind of always late, so kind of always sorry."
"Relax. Catch your breath." Shay grinned. "You're actually on time, for once in your life."
"Uh. Okay."
"I told you the wrong time. I told you eight o'clock, but the reservation's actually for eight-thirty."
Now it was Cosima's turn to be amused, "I don't know if I find that incredibly endearing, or incredibly insulting."
"It's the first, honey, it's always the first." Shay gave Cosima a kiss on both cheeks, and a hug. "It's been forever."
"I could bitch about what a horrible friend you are, but then again, how can I? You have a halo around your head, and a pair of fucking angel wings. Plus, the kids in Cambodia obviously needed you more than I do."
"It's Nepal, but close enough for you. At least this time, you got the continent right."
Cosima was taken aback, if only just for a second. She truly felt like a dick, for not knowing. "Oh. I'm sorry, Shay, I didn't know. Or I did, and completely forgot about it. But either way, it's pretty douchey of me."
"It's fine." Shay said sincerely, "I can't blame you either. It's my third tour. I'm always here one day, and gone the next. I can't honestly expect you to keep track of where I am all the time."
There were many qualities Cosima admired about Shay, but the one that stands out above all, was her sense of charity. Of the countless people she knew, Shay was, hands down, the single most charitable person there was. Shay managed to put herself through medical school, with nothing but grants, scholarship, and a shitty job at a credit check company. After eight grueling years of med school, and a two year rotation as an emergency physician, Shay could have taken any job she wanted, at any hospital of her choice. The Canadian government had plenty of incentives for physicians to stay in the country, and practice medicine domestically. Or she could very well start her own practice, and roll in the deep in greens. But she doesn't. Shay chose the path less travelled. The moment she was legible, she gave it all up to work for Médecins Sans Frontières. They met four years ago, during a benefit for the 2011 Tōhoku Earthquake; the one that displaced more than a million people in Japan, and caused the Fukushima nuclear meltdowns.
For the rest of the evening, Cosima and Shay shared a meal, plenty of laughter, nostalgia, and amusing stories since they last saw one another. Their unlikely friendship was the pinnacle definition of what it means to be friends: it isn't about being inseparable, but being separated, and nothing's changed.
As the evening winded down, they found themselves enjoying a cup of coffee, and talking about everything yet about nothing. It wasn't until the clock struck ten, did Cosima notice a slight change in the ambiance. Shay kept checking her watch, even though she said earlier that she hadn't made any other plans.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Daydov, am I boring you already?" Cosima said sarcastically. "I thought I had you booked for the evening. What gives?"
Shay was restless, though it wasn't Cosima's fault. "I'm going to tell you something, but promise me, you won't lose your shit when I do."
Cosima didn't like the sound of that. "That's usually the prelude, before I lose my shit."
"I bumped into Kára a few days ago, at a fundraising benefit."
At the mere mention of the name, Cosima's usual go-lucky, happy demeanor immediately darkened. But nonetheless, Shay continued, "You have to understand, Cosima, that when I met you, I also met Kára. Just because you broke up, didn't mean I stopped being her friend. I didn't pick a side."
"What does she want?"
"She said you won't take her calls."
"You're damn right I won't."
"Whatever it is, she just wants a chance to work it out, and make peace." Shay placed her napkin on the table. "I couldn't refuse her, nor I, you, if you asked me to."
Cosima didn't get the hint. "I don't get it. What are you—"
"Hello, Cosima."
The muscle memory in Cosima's body reacted; her shoulders shot up, as her body tensed. She didn't dare turn around, for fear of what may happen if she allowed her emotions to get the best of her.
"Please don't hate me, Cosima." Shay got up from her seat, "I couldn't say no."
"I've never hated you more." Cosima whispered lowly, "I will burn all your clothes, and key your car. I will hunt you down; you mark my word, Daydov."
Shay gave Cosima a peck on the cheek, before she departed.
Cosima was streaming from the blatant betrayal.
Kára Lang had a lock of long blonde hair, dark green eyes, and thick eyebrows that complimented her sharp face. The woman had no makeup on, yet her features were vibrant and every bit as eye-catching. The one piece dress she wore hugged her body tight. Her tall statuesque figure was envied by all, yet not the least bit intimating.
Cosima laid eyes on Kára; a woman whom she hasn't seen in four years.
"Hello, Kára."
"Please, just hear what I have to say, before you go sprinting for the doors."
Cosima leaned back, and crossed her arms in a defensive manner. "I'm listening."
"I've been out of rehab for a year now. I sobered up, and got help." Kára said, neither proudly nor shamefully. "Part of my recovery program says I have to make amends, for the people I've wronged."
Cosima said nothing.
"I don't deserve your forgiveness, Cosima, I know that, but I wanted the chance to tell you, to your face: I'm sorry for everything I put you through."
The apology appeared genuine, though Cosima was still on the fence as to what her reaction should be, given the ambush. In the end, she chose to show compassion. Cosima sighed heavily, and eased her posture. "Look, Kára, I don't blame you for what happened between us. Nor do I hate you for it. I was every bit the enabler, as you were the aggressor. I can't forgive you, because I don't harbor any animosity towards you. I'm indifferent."
"Please, Cosima, I—"
"No." Cosima said sharply. "I respect that you want to make amends, and atone for what you did. You can tell yourself you've accomplished that, if it means you'll sleep easier at night, but this cannot happen again. I've closed that chapter of my life, and you should, too."
"So that's it, huh?"
"I'm glad you're getting your life back together, but please, I don't want anything more to do with you. There's a reason I don't take your calls. We're not friends. We're exes. So let's not do this anymore."
Cosima got up to leave.
Kára pushed her chair back, and grabbed Cosima by the wrist.
The unexpected contact made Cosima flinch; she physically flinched from Kára's touch.
"I'm sorry." Kára pulled back, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You did; more so than you'll ever know. The physical trauma I endured at your hands, pales in comparison to the mental anguish you put me through. I promised myself, that I'll never fall victim to abuse again. You put your hands on me, in a way nobody should. And for that, I will never, ever, feel safe around you."
Cosima left without another word, or a second glance.
Kára didn't chase after Cosima. No. That would only push her further away. She had something else in mind.
- o -
A/N: Satisfactory?