8:45 a.m.
"Is there something going on I need to know about?"
After a few moments of complete silence, David had peeked around his newspaper to see Blair engrossed in her phone. She hadn't touched her breakfast.
"I'm sorry, what, Daddy?" Blair looked up after sending a text.
David saw the expression his daughter often wore when she was enamored with something… or someone. "You keep glancing at your phone, is there something going on?" he asked.
"N-no. I'm just, um…" Blair tapped the device a few times then set it on the table, "Have you seen Barry?"
David turned a page of his newspaper, "Winstead? No. Why?"
"He was supposed to sit in on the Xteco meeting yesterday. I haven't been able to get in touch with him." Blair looked down at her plate. She had ordered her usual: ham and eggs. She picked up a piece of toast and bit into it.
"I haven't seen him for a couple of days," David watched as his daughter glanced at her phone, again. "How's the presentation going?"
Blair shrugged, "It's going, but we need his input before we can finalize anything going forward."
"Did you check with Emily?" David queried.
"She's been so busy with the Xteco advertising department, she's barely had time to even meet with me," Blair took a sip of coffee. She picked up her phone again, typing in a few words.
"Hey."
"Hmm?" Blair looked up seeing her father had folded his paper and sat it down on the table.
David cleared his throat. "I know you're anxious about this presentation, but trust me, as long as you can show them you can make the company money, you'll be fine."
Blair regarded her father for a moment. Things had been going very well, and she wanted to impress the board rather than offer what was expected. "I want to do more than that, Daddy."
David frowned. "What for? That's all they care about," a little chuckle, "You know how the game is played." He picked up his orange juice.
"I'm aware, but perhaps we could expand our divisions a bit to ensure future profits," Blair tried to get her point across.
David eyed her, "We've tried that before. Be careful not to over saturate the market. Russell tried the same thing about three years ago and it was a disaster, he even tried to…get… Blair?"
Blair looked up, having caught the tail end. "Hmm? Uncle Russell tried what?"
David sat back and gave her an annoyed look. "You know I'm beginning to think you're slightly distracted by something... or someone?"
Blair gingerly put her phone down. "Daddy…" she flashed a look of warning; then took another bite of toast.
"What? I'm merely observing." David said, an incredulous smile edging his face.
"It's not what you think." Blair said as she looked around the atrium. Various people were busily trying to reach their destinations. The café was quite crowded, as well.
"So who is it this time?" David asked, seeing a deep blush start to creep up his daughter's neck and face. "What's his name?"
Blair swallowed, "No one."
"No one?" David let a disbelieving expression cross his face.
"It's just business," Blair said. She lowered her eyes to her plate, staring at it. She took in a breath then looked up directly at her father who was watching her intently.
"Okay. Well… good." he said, nodding slowly.
Leave it alone, Daddy. "What?" Blair exhaled.
David shifted in his chair, getting comfortable. Blair knew what that meant. He was about to interject something she didn't want to hear.
"I had a pretty good golf game yesterday with the president of Velespar Industries."
Blair did an internal eye roll. "That's nice," she forked some eggs into her mouth, only to almost spit them out. They had turned cold and hard.
"And his son." David finished, watching brown eyes slowly lift to his at the news. "Just so happens his son is vice president of operations and around your age," he informed.
"Daddy…" Blair managed to swallow, her voice full of admonition. She wiped her mouth.
"Nice guy by the way," David summarized; feeling proud of himself for slipping that in.
Blair threw her napkin on her plate. "I see."
"Look, Blair. I don't usually get involved with your personal life…" David interjected.
"Good, let's keep it that way," Blair sunk down a bit in her chair.
David watched her. She looked closed off. "You're still upset about your mother and my reaction to your divorce," he related.
"No, I'm completely over it. And you promised you'd lay off of that," Blair assertively reminded him.
"And I've kept my promise," David said, a brow lifting.
Until now. "Good then there's nothing to discuss." Blair grabbed her phone again, checking her messages.
"Actually there is," David said.
"I don't want to hear it." Manicured fingers typed in a response.
"Then I'll just say this," David pushed his plate to the side, "You're a Warner. You come from certain standards, Blair."
Blair peeked a look at him, "Is that a nice way of saying I shouldn't stray too far off the pedestal?"
David's eyes steeled, "It's my way of saying, when you pursue another potential suitor, he needs to pass muster."
Blair let out a sarcastic laugh. "You mean your approval?" Good grief, she knew she would never achieve that no matter how hard she'd tried.
"Societies approval, Blair," David grumbled. "Need I remind you, you are under the microscope now. More than ever." He punched the table top with his finger, "you are highly sought after and once again very eligible at this time in your life. Tread lightly and don't associate with the wrong people."
There. He'd said it.
And it wasn't like she hadn't heard it every single day since she was old enough to date. Blair knew what he'd meant. She'd bought into it for most of her life.
"You mean people you consider beneath you," she stated with a tone of antipathy.
David shook his head. "No, Blair. You can have acquaintances, but the guy you choose as your next suitor…well."
"You don't have to explain, Daddy," she gave him a condescending smile. "But you know what?" she leaned forward, eye to eye.
"What?" David hiked a brow.
"Sometimes things just don't work out that way."
They held each other's stare for a second before Blair tilted her head giving a tiny smile, then went back to typing.
It was a dismissive gesture, David had gathered; but he was no dummy. He knew his daughter was not one to always stick to the family script. A part of him admired her for that. But this was family. And the business of family came before all else if you were a Warner.
There was no room for anything else.
"Blair, you and I both know there are too many obstacles to overcome. Especially for a woman of your position."
Blair glanced back up. Her father was never one to mince words. She knew what he'd meant: Don't go off script. Oh, Daddy. If you only knew.
"My position has nothing to do with who I choose to be with," she shot back.
"How so?" David had garnered her attention, "Your being president is a noteworthy endeavor for our family. Who you choose to be at your side has to be someone trustworthy and comparable."
"You mean rich and well connected?" A knowing sneer, "I have yet to meet anyone that would be suitable enough to satisfy you, Daddy." Blair finished the last of her coffee.
David paused, then gave a reluctant nod to that. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he'd often felt no one was good enough for his… princess.
"You're an heiress, Blair," He finally stated, firmly.
Blair pursed her lips. Took him long enough to get to the point. "I also have a trust, shall we throw that into the fire while we're at it?"
David wore a stoic expression, "you know the rules of the game."
Blair quirked her mouth at that. She was aware of the rules, but since when did that stop a Warner from breaking them? After all, that's why they were made.
David cleared his throat. "You'll be thirty soon."
God she hated that. The reminder. "Are you going to rub that in from now until my thirtieth birthday?" Blair said angrily.
"I'm just reminding you of your duty," David eyed her squarely.
"My duty." Blair repeated with dismay. Terrific.
"Do not disappoint, Blair." David squinted harshly at her. It wasn't a warning so much as a direct command.
Sometimes the burden of being rich and high profile meant a heavy price to pay if you didn't do what was expected of you. Blair had weighed her options long ago… especially after divorcing Cliff. If there was one thing being around Jo had taught her, it was to rise to the occasion; do what wasn't expected of you and be bold enough to stand by it.
"And what if I do disappoint? Huh, Daddy?" she saw him bristle slightly at her words, "what if I'm not married by the time I'm thirty?"
David's facial expression gave nothing away. He had suspected this was the current Blair had been riding on as of late: one of defiance. He'd began piecing together his assumptions the day they'd confronted her about divorcing Cliff; and now this turn of events.
"I think you know the answer to that," he stated simply; gauging her reaction, which was one of extreme irritation to say the least.
Blair took in a breath, gathering what she wanted to say. "I hope in time you will see things in a different light." She gathered her briefcase and stood. "I just hope you can still love me for what I decide is best for me."
David watched as she left the atrium without so much as a glance backward.
11:00 a.m.
It just goes to show - sometimes when things don't quite go right, it's best to escape from it all with someone or something that's always reliable, mostly available, and never second guessing or undermining you.
Jo slowed the Harley and switched to toggle as she made a turn onto the highway. The warm breeze whipped through hair that had escaped from under her helmet. She was headed east toward the shore. The weather was cooperating for the moment, as the partly cloudy day shared itself with a steady wind and high humidity.
She'd spent the first few morning hours texting Blair. She couldn't help it. They'd kept things light – their banter mostly consisting of compliments and accolades. She smiled as they had to stop around 9 a.m. as Blair had to get to work and secretly texting would just be a bad look for the president of Warner Textiles.
She adjusted the herbal pack on her side, making sure it stayed secure under her jeans waistband. Mrs. De Palma had said to keep it on her wound at all times; and it was working as the gash had closed completely and was more than half healed. It barely hurt anymore, unless she did something strenuous. Jo made another turn; she knew she hadn't been cleared to ride… far from it, but she felt an overwhelming need to today; before she couldn't for God knows how long.
She pushed on for another few miles, riding along the shore line with a steady speed. She'd thought about the past twenty-four hours, letting it consume her and completely confuse her; and yet she accepted the reality of it with more than a bit of trepidation.
She slowed as she reached the shore. The waves were steadily beating the surf as a few people milled about, walking up and down the beach.
Parking her bike, she made her way past the pier and to a clearing on the beach. The constant breeze carried a mist that smelled salty. The incoming spray from the waves doused her a bit, but she didn't mind, as it helped to clear her head.
She sat on a semi-dry spot, overlooking the ocean. Picking up a shell, she examined it, then threw it into the waves. She'd turned the scenario over and over in her mind; trying to think of a way… some kind of way to, at least, ameliorate her impossible position.
There was no way out, she'd deduced. Eric had said she was the only hope of stabilizing the situation in Gragon… 2.4 million people were counting on her and they didn't even have a clue.
Jo took in a breath and closed her eyes. Blair would just have to understand. If they went forward with this it could mean trouble for both of them. They had at least agreed to not to talk about the future last night. Still, Jo felt the nagging realization of reality angling to tap her on the shoulder as a reminder of its insistent presence.
Her mind's eye had seen the reality. How difficult and possibly painful could things get for both of them? And what about the disruption to her private and Blair's very open and transparent lives. Would Blair be willing to give up practically everything she'd been groomed to live by and for?
Blair…
Jo pushed back her hair as a sudden gust of wind blew it forward on her face. What am I doing? She cracked a distressed grimace as she twisted her tresses into a loose ponytail. She'd been so occupied with her assignments, so busy chasing leads and following clues, that it never really occurred to her the pure loneliness of it all.
Until now.
She shook her head. I could just tell her it was a mistake, we took things too far.
Except we didn't. We both wanted it. I was tired of keeping it all to myself. "God, get a grip Polniaczek, you're still lying to her!" Jo yelled into the wind. A sudden pain in her chest caught her off guard and she gripped her shirt feeling the wild beating under her palm.
Jo bit back the barrage of tears that threatened to fall as she steadied herself. After a few moments she stood, then wiped off her jeans, her booted feet quietly carrying her back to her bike. She snapped her helmet in place and revved the motor.
You are an agent of the United States, your sworn duty is to protect the people of this nation… at all costs – she was constantly reminding herself. She pulled out of the parking lot and waited for a chance to turn onto the main highway. I'll just have to explain... She'll have to understand.
Unless... Jo took in a breath. Unless she can give me a reason to go…
Booted feet lifted as the Harley turned onto the highway; settling into a steady speed, Jo made her way back to the city – her heart heavier than she'd ever remembered.
Jo took a cab back to her apartment. She had parked her motorcycle at JTI's secure parking for employees. Quite often many of the agent's vehicles were locked in the private lot. Especially when they went out of the country for long periods of time.
Jo tipped the cabby then started to make her way up the steps to her apartment.
"You sad."
The voice had come from around the corner, and Jo halted as she watched Mrs. De Palma approach her. She was carrying her garden rake.
Jo drew a hand through her hair, giving her a weak smile. "I'm fine."
"You not fine," De Palma shook her rake, "you sad." She insisted. She came up close to Jo, looking her in the eyes. "… have sorrow."
Jo sighed. How does she do that? "Just having a bad day is all, Mrs. De Palma."
Meo watched as Jo lowered her head. She reached out and lifted her chin, observing her. She let her hand drop. "Matter of the heart."
Jo blinked, not saying anything. She took in a wavering breath.
Meo nodded making up her mind, "I have herb," She said then turned to go to her herbal garden beside the house.
Jo watched her curiously as she bent over and appeared to cut and pull a few plants from a shrub. She reached into her pocket and took out a small plastic baggie and filled it with the plant before returning to her.
"Here." She shoved the bag at Jo, who grabbed it curiously.
She looked down at it, "I'm okay, really."
"No." Meo shook her head. "You boil herb and drink," she explained, "it clear head." She pointed to Jo's head, then slid her hand down to her chest, "and heart."
Jo smiled sadly with a whimsical expression. It was indeed curious, that the head often had no clue how to deal with matters of the heart, as the heart always worked independently. She slowly regarded Meo, inclining her head. "Thank you," she said softly; her eyes were glassy with emotion and Meo gave her a curt nod back.
"Okay, goodbye," she said, turning and making her way back to her garden.
Jo watched her for a moment, gaining her voice. "Mrs. De Palma?"
Meo looked up from her raking, "Yea?"
Jo sported a lopsided smile, "No. Goodbye. I'll see you later," she said.
Meo stood still for a moment, then, "Later, okay." She turned again and continued raking her weeds.
Jo let a laugh escape her before making her way up the steps. She entered her apartment to find Charlie in his usual position - on the couch flipping through the channels.
He watched as she entered the apartment. "Hey what ya' doin' back here so early?"
"I um… " Jo eyed the television. It was up too loud. "Pop, would you turn that down for a minute, Please?"
Charlie only took it down a couple of notches. "What's the matta'?"
"I need you to tell you something important," Jo said.
Charlie rolled his head back on the couch, "Aw, crap. Whenever somebody starts off with that it's never good."
"Would you just turn the TV off for a minute?" she grabbed the remote from his hand and turned it off.
Charlie could see she meant business. "What's up?"
"I'm leaving."
That was met with a confused look, "Wha'… you just got here," he pointed out.
"No, I'm leaving, Pop. New York…" she said sternly, "On assignment, for the company."
Oh. "So soon?"
"Yeah," Jo said more solemnly.
"Oh." Charlie scratched the back of his head, "how long you gonna be gone for?"
"I don't know." It was an honest answer.
Charlie examined his daughter, she looked distressed. He remembered when she was a little girl and she didn't want to do something, her stiff body language would always give her away – even if her mouth said the opposite.
"You don't know? C'mon, Jo," he saw her sigh then look around the room. "You wanna' try and give me a ball park idea here?"
A shrug, "It could be anywhere from a few weeks to a couple years," Yeah, she saw her father's eyebrows rise at that.
Charlie leaned forward. "Geeze Louise! That's one hell of a spread. What kinda' job is this?"
"I'm teaching a computer class… overseas," came the ready-made answer.
"Oh. Overseas… huh." That was unexpected to say the least. Charlie rubbed his chin.
There was a long silence as they both absorbed the reality of what was happening… and changing.
"I want you to know you can stay here as long as you need… until I get back," Jo felt the need to reassure her father.
"Oh, no," Charlie shook his head and pointed at her, "I'm gonna pay my fair share."
Jo cracked a smile. A feeling of appreciation floated through her. She was glad her father was here, with her, at this time in her life. She had missed him being in her around when he was in prison, or on the road; and that had indeed affected her… she knew that… but more than anything, right now, in this moment, she was grateful for his ultimate support.
"That's fine, Pop," she sat on the arm of the sofa and patted his shoulder, rubbing it affectionately, "Actually knowing you'll be here while I'm gone makes me feel better."
Charlie smiled, "Yeah, well… until I get this thing off and hit the road again," he lifted his casted foot off the coffee table.
"You still thinking about going back?" Jo had thought he'd be tired of truck driving by now; and possibly looking for something more close to home.
"Not really, but I can't find a job doin' anything else, so until then…" Charlie thought, then snapped his fingers, "Hey, what about Ace?"
"I was going to ask Mom if she can take care of him. Especially if you're back on the road." Jo said.
Charlie waved that off, "Nah, I'll look after the lil' horny runt. If I go back on the road I'll have Rose look after him, don't worry."
Jo felt a sense of comfort at that. "Thanks, I think he's kind of fond of you too, Pop."
Charlie gave his daughter a playful shove. "You know she's doin' pretty good with that restaurant gig."
It wasn't often Charlie brought up his ex wife, but when he did, Jo couldn't help but feel that old familiar spark… one of hope that, maybe, someday…
… anyway…
She stood then started to make her way to the bedroom. "Well… I better go pack."
"When you leavin'?" Charlie yelled across the room.
Jo stopped then turned around. She had been waiting for that question. "Today." She heard her father grunt as he got to his feet, grabbing his crutches - he ambled his way over to her.
"Today?! Jo that's no time for… we just…" Charlie trailed off. They'd just settled in for a few weeks, now things were going haywire again.
Jo regarded her father, "I know Pop, but it is what it is." She held steadfast to that, though it pained her to.
"Yeah…" Charlie agreed, gruffly.
"They're going to be accommodating me with housing and other stuff," she informed him.
Charlie smirked, then grunted. "That a fancy way of sayin' they're puttin' you up for free over there?"
"Yeah,.." she gave him a tight grin, "I guess it is."
Charlie adjusted his crutches to a more comfortable stance. "So, uh… where is this place they're sendin' you to, anyway?"
"Some… place," Jo shrugged, "an island. I forget the name," she lied, "I'll contact you once I get there." That part wasn't a lie.
Charlie had been side eyeing her, nodding a couple of times, "Uh huh, Okay… " He smiled. "Hey whattaya' know, just like you're ole man, huh? On the road," he said proudly; softly backhanding her on the stomach.
Jo laughed, "Yeah."
They stood there smiling at one another, letting a few moments pass; then soberly regarded each other for a second before Jo hugged Charlie. He stiffened, then did his best to wrap an arm around her.
She released him, stepping back, "I'm, um, going to go pack up a few things," she motioned toward her bedroom.
"Yeah. Okay, you do that," Charlie's smile wavered.
He watched her leave, closing the door behind her. He ambled over to the kitchen, getting a beer out of the refrigerator and popped the can open. Taking a long drink, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and leaned back against the counter.
Why do I feel like she ain't tellin' me everything.
2:03 p.m.
The ride up was nerve racking enough without the cheesy music. Whose idea was it to have elevator travel music anyway?
Jo was done mulling over the circumstances, her ride over was gloomy to say the least. Her emotional defenses were worn out and quite frankly she felt numb… she needed to be, to get through this, she gathered. She pulled at her suit jacket sleeves then smoothed out her hair before the doors could slide open.
Upon entering the lobby she glanced down the hall toward Barry Winstead's office door. I'm still on the case for three more hours. She reluctantly tapped the back of her ear. "Test."
"Here."
"I'm at Warner." Jo carefully glanced up at the security camera in the lobby.
"You know what you have to do."
"I'm going to see if Winstead made it in, first," Jo purposefully interjected.
Eric had to think about that for a second. "Okay,"
He listened closely and heard Jo knock on Barry Winstead's office door a couple of times – getting no answer.
"He's not here," Jo concluded. She checked her watch.
"Did you check with security?"
Jo scoffed at that. "You'll have to excuse me if something more important was on my mind," she snapped. She had no patience for Eric today, and he knew to back off and give her space.
"I understand," he said quietly. That was met with silence. "Look, Jo, I…"
"Save it," she tapped him off then let out a breath, turning as she set her sights toward Blair's office.
She'd thought about just walking in, her hand on the doorknob… it was shaking and she balled her fist, trying to calm her nerves. Taking in a huge breath, she tapped on the door. God, just give me a reason, Blair.
The door opened and Blair let a pleasantly surprised look grace her face. "Hi," she sported a smile that was… very glad to see Jo.
Jo couldn't help but smile in return, her green eyes twinkling at the sight of the blonde before her. Blair was dressed in a dark skirt with a white silk blouse. Her hair was slightly mussed…she looked… sexy. "Hi."
Blair gave the woman in front of her a quick up and down before gesturing for her to enter the office. "Um… Can I get you something?" she walked over to the drink cart and retrieved two glasses; pouring herself a club soda.
Jo shook her head, "No. Thank you." She took in a breath, "I need to talk to you, Blair."
Blair put her glass down after taking a drink. She walked over to Jo. "Okay. What about?" Blair took a few more steps then held up a hand. "Wait."
Jo watched as the executive came closer with her arms opened. She smiled; she couldn't help herself as her arms went around the blonde; feeling herself melt at the contact. She heard a soft hum, then gave Blair one last squeeze before stepping out of the embrace.
Blair smiled then blushed, flicking the hair from her face. "I just felt like doing that. I know it feels a little awkward… I mean, here in the office," she laughed a little, "It's not like we're completely alone."
Jo gave her a sideways smile. Blair was cute when she was flustered. "Its okay, Blair."
A flash of white then Blair licked her lips. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
Jo took in a breath. Here goes. "The capstone."
Blair brightened. "How's that going?"
"I'm finished," Jo informed.
Blair crossed her arms over her chest. "Really? That was fast. I thought…"
"I have all the information I need." Jo supplied. "We'll have the final copy of the test questions sent to you for review then we'll send them to the department of education for submission. They'll contact each university that wants to adapt the program into their curriculum."
Blair nodded, "Oh, so that's how it works," she said quietly.
Jo nodded back. The outer lobby area was quiet this afternoon, she noticed. Maybe they were alone after-all.
"So… what now?" Blair asked delicately. She knotted her hands together in front of her.
Steady, Jo. Just give her the facts. "I won't be reporting to you anymore." She saw the slightly disappointed look Blair had tried to cover up.
"I see. I guess you have other projects?" Blair bit her lip nervously.
A careful nod, "Yes."
Blair wore a slightly pained look. "Well, then…" a breath, "I guess, um…"
The tension between them was getting rather heavy, and Blair stared down at the carpet for a bit. She was obviously not happy about the prospect of not seeing Jo at Warner almost every day. Sure she understood the nature of business and how that worked. But still…
"Blair." Jo breathed, "I have to tell you…"
"Wait. Please… just don't say anything." Blair took a few steps closer.
She had sensed it, whatever it was, and she had decided to ignore it: to not lose the connection they'd established. At least for now. She was grateful Jo had not reacted and just watched as she got closer. She slowly wrapped her arms around her shoulders, noticing Jo groan at the contact. Green eyes were heavy lidded as they rolled slightly then closed as their lips softly touched – the contact becoming firmer as they explored each other for a while.
Blair finally broke off the kiss, her eyes still closed as they clung to one another. "Why do I feel like that was a goodbye kiss?" she'd said it jokingly, then after a few quiet beats she stepped back, looking into somber green eyes.
"Jo?"
Jo took another step back. "I have another assignment," she said softly, willing the tone of her voice to convey her sorrowfulness.
Blair stared at her, the swallowed hard. "Well… that's good, right?" she offered a weak smile.
"Is it with another company?" she asked. She saw Jo nod affirmatively; then ran a frustrated hand through her hair. She shrugged, "Maybe we can have dinner one night this week and talk about it," Blair said in a rushed tone.
She waited. Her breath catching, not knowing what Jo would say next.
Jo cleared her throat a few times, feeling it constrict each time she did. "It's overseas."
It felt like a blow, and Blair closed her eyes before taking in a lungful of air. "What do you mean it's overseas?"
Her cell phone rang and Blair took it out of her pocket, glancing at it, but still focused on the woman in front of her as the ringer kept interrupting them. She ignored it.
Jo eyed the phone. "In another country."
"I know what that…" The phone chimed again and Blair tried to turn down the volume. "What exactly are you saying?" she took a look at the screen; then decided to answer it.
"Hold on… Yes, Emily?"
Blair watched as Jo licked her still wet lips then wiped the lipstick off with her fingers before stuffing her hands in her pockets. "No, I haven't heard from him either. I thought you would've talked to him by now….. can I call you back?... fine….. bye."
"You obviously have a lot on your plate." Jo had turned to leave. "I'll just leave you to it."
"Wait, Jo, please," the brunette heard the small waver in Blair's voice.
She reluctantly turned around. She was going to leave a note, maybe tell Natalie to tell Blair about her plane leaving today. What a coward I am. She looked at the forlorn expression on the executive's face as she approached her. Please give me a reason.
"So you have another job," Blair failed to sound upbeat.
Green eyes stared for a moment; then a dark head of hair gave a little nod.
"When do you start? Because I'm thinking we can hang out until then. Maybe I can come and visit you or… or…"
She stopped herself. Seeing Jo shake her head with a distressed look, and it made her heart sink.
"My plane leaves in three hours."
It was a blow. Who knew six words could mean so much… could convey so much and elicit so much emotion. Blair wasn't ready for it, for how deeply it shook her.
"I see." Was all she could manage to say as she tried to make sense of it all; a growing unease and resentment gripped her.
Jo saw it. She knew the look. Blair sucked in her cheeks and failed to look her in the eye at the news. She suddenly felt nervous. "I can explain."
Angry brown eyes riveted to green, and Jo closed her mouth. "When were you going to explain? When you were half way there?!"
Okay, I deserved that. "You don't understand, it's not like that." She could hear the tremble in her own voice, though she had tried to be calming. That seemed to do nothing to quell the pending anger rolling off of Blair.
Brown eyes glared as Blair's face stiffened into anger. "Then explain why you're leaving on such short notice!"
Jo blinked; trying to catch her breath. "I told you I have another assignment."
Okay, now was the time to kick herself for not thinking this whole thing through. The lies and secrecy were one thing, but the harm they were doing to Blair was making her feel sick.
"Doing what exactly?" Blair persisted, her anger quickly dissipating to thinly veiled sadness. Her voice cracked slightly.
Jo swallowed hard as she bit back the rising bile. "I'm teaching a computer class." She watched apprehensively as Blair absorbed that bit of information.
Brown eyes squinted and Blair crossed her arms and started to pace a bit. "So just like that you're going to hop on a plane?" She threw out an arm.
"I came here to tell you," Jo managed to say in a small voice. "I didn't want to just leave and…" She trailed off seeing a blonde head of hair rigorously shake.
Blair felt the prickle of tears. "What about last night?"
Her voice was hoarse, and the utterly helpless expression she wore was about to be Jo's undoing. She let out a breath at the desolate and dejected look on Blair's face. What can I possibly say? "Last night was …" her voice was raspy. "It was …" a deep sigh.
"Was what, Jo?!" Brown eyes pleaded for understanding, only to see Jo swallow and shake her head. Her head bent down.
The most wonderful night of my life and if I tell you that… "It was a moment." Jo knew it was the wrong thing to say.
"A moment?!" It was like a jolt and Blair barely caught her breath, her eyes held unshed tears. "What about …." she gestured wildly. "God, what are we?! Friends? Girlfriends?! What am I to you?!"
Jo felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, she looked at the blonde who had the most miserable look on her face. "Blair, please…."
"No… you don't get to explain anymore," Blair brushed a tear away. "You run. You run when things get complicated!" She pointed a strong finger at the brunette.
"I'm not running." That was met with a disbelieving look. "You don't understand. Please…" Jo hated this. The pain of willful dishonesty was a burden she would simply have to bare.
Blair let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, I think I understand. I get it now," She gave the woman in front of her a scathing, cynical sneer. "My father was right." She slowly moved, pacing, her arms crossed tightly.
Jo held in a breath. "About what?"
"He was right," Blair shrugged as a tear ran down her cheek. "I have my world you have yours. That's just the way it is." She wiped the tear, then sniffed. "That's what you've been telling me for years."
Jo shook her head. "Blair."
"No." A hand went up. "He's right. We come from two different places." She looked up at the ceiling. "God, how foolish of me to think it would ever work out between us. Forget the fact that we're both women."
Jo had absolutely no words to say to that, and Blair watched the completely dumbfounded expression she wore. I should have known better. She shook her head.
"I'm a Warner. I have a duty to my family, and obviously so do you, to your job." She flicked the hair from her face. "I get it now."
Jo's breath was becoming heavy. She had tried in the past to dismiss her attraction as something that could never be reciprocated. The excuse of them being from two different worlds was a defense she had used to not face her feelings. And yet, Blair had said it so bluntly… so truthfully… and maybe, she was right all along.
I guess she gave me a reason.
The office door had been lightly tapped on before it opened and a brunette head of hair peeked in.
"Blair?"
Amanda.
Gray eyes looked between the two women. "Is everything alright? I heard shouting." She came into the office, seeing the distressed look on Blair's face. She frowned.
Blair turned her attention to the curator. "Everything's fine," she gave her a disingenuous smile, "Jo was just leaving," she said pointedly, eyeing Jo with a sardonic grin.
Amanda picked up on it and gave Jo a tight smile. "Jo. Good to see you again."
Jo was silent for a moment; a glint entered her eyes as she gave a slight nod to the brunette. Her jaw clenched.
Amanda turned her attention back to Blair. "I just dropped by to see if you were free for dinner tonight."
Blair reached out and touched Amanda's arm, giving it a light touch. "Actually, I am..." From the corner of her eye, she saw Jo stiffen, "… very much free for dinner," she gave Amanda a fake smile.
"And maybe even breakfast if you play your cards right," Blair said, sickly sweet. She even batted her eyes at the woman.
Jo stayed silent; just taking it. She had known things would eventually come to this; but she couldn't let on, wouldn't let Blair know she already knew about their relationship, so she managed to put a stunned look on her face.
Blair noticed. "That's right, Jo. Don't act so surprised."
It was Amanda who was caught off guard this time. She was both astounded and smug at the same time. "Blair, I…" she kept her voice low, "are you sure?"
"Positive," Blair said tersely. She could see Jo was clearly uncomfortable. "Jo won't mind seeing that she's fond of women herself."
It was said out of spite and with scorn, and Jo tore her eyes from Blair's.
"That's right, Amanda and I are dating," she added for good measure.
Blair knew that would get the response she wanted, and Jo quickly covered with a look of indifference which made her feel even more irate.
Amanda glanced at both of them, sensing a high level of tension. "Um… maybe I should wait in the lobby." She moved to exit the office closing the door behind her.
Blair watched Amanda leave then crossed her arms. "What… no reaction?"
Jo inhaled, taking a moment, then, "You can date who you want to date Blair. I won't stand in your way."
She turned and headed for the door. Her hand reached for the doorknob, when she heard a sharp intake of breath.
"God, you are so…"
"I have to go." Jo's voice barely registered as she opened the door, stepping into the lobby. She could feel Blair behind her.
"Leave. Go! That's what you do best!" She shouted at Jo's back. "Just know this, Jo. You will never get back into this building once you do," her voice a low growl.
The door slammed shut, the wind from it hitting Jo in the back, and a cold, emptiness slammed into her. She closed her eyes taking in a deep breath before gathering her wits. She turned seeing Amanda watching her with a smirk. She'd wanted to say so many things… and yet, she knew it would be completely fruitless… useless. She took in a breath, lowering her eyes.
"You win."
Jo reached the elevator and entered it, punching the lobby button; then settling against the back wall. She knew she was being watched as she discreetly tapped the back of her ear. "Test."
"Here."
"It's done."
"…Jo—"
"Go to hell."
She tapped him off, then squatted down, barely containing the immense anger and hurt she felt. The doors slid open and she stood up, pulling her suit straight; letting out a breath.
She looked toward the security entrance and saw them. Two guards.
Jo headed for them, taking off her badge, she walked right up to the scanner and jammed her card into the slot over and over, almost breaking it.
Doug, the tall, burly, security guard was on his feet as Jo smoothly and quickly moved to exit the lobby. "Hey! Hey, you can't do that!"
He started to run after her until another guard grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Let her go man."
Doug tried to remove his arm from the grip. "Fuck! Did you see what she just did?!" His pointed to the scanner: it had the broken card hanging from it.
"Forget her." The other guard held his grip. "Warner just pulled clearance, she ain't getting back in."
Eric had been typing up the last of a report when he heard a knock on his door. "Come in."
Agent Summers came in and took a seat. "Hey, I've got something."
Eric stopped typing, "What is it?"
"Barry Winstead."
Eric watched as she opened her file. "What, Agent?"
"Looks like he's skipped town," Agent Summers read from the latest analytics report. "All of his accounts are closed."
The head agent sat back with a huff, "Shit."
"Where's everybody?" Summers asked.
"On assignment," Eric simply stated, "Okay, get me the full report on him. I'm going to bring in David Warner. We need to inform him about everything. This is what I was afraid of."
Angela Summers nodded in agreement. "We don't know his motives," she said.
"We know he has the money, that's dangerous enough," Eric thought for a moment. "We're going to need to step up security."
Agent Summers stood, "I figured we were at the end of our rope." She paused, "What about Palmero?"
Eric shook his head, "Too risky right now. I've got a light tail on her but we have nothing to bring her in on right now."
Summers let out a grunt at that. She closed her folder.
"FBI is going to take over from here," Eric smirked. "Prepare your files for them."
Summers nodded. "I'll get on it."
It didn't take long for David Warner to make his way over to JTI. He sat in Eric's office watching as the agent printed off a few papers.
Eric arranged the papers neatly into a file then turned his attention to the CEO. "I won't beat around the bush, Mr. Warner. Barry Winstead has disappeared."
David's eyes grew wide. "What?"
"All of his accounts are cleaned out." Eric watched as David shot out of the chair and approached him.
"Dammit! What the hell did he do?!"
Eric waited a beat before answering. "He took the one hundred eighty million dollars."
David raked a hand through his hair in exasperation, "Why the hell?! How could… You have to get it back!" he ordered, his eyes boring into Eric's.
Eric nodded, "I have a search team working on that."
"That's not enough!" David beat his fist on the desk.
"Mr. Warner, I assure you we are doing everything we can to find him. The FBI is going to be briefed soon."
David looked alarmed. "FBI?"
"Yes, this is now out of our hands."
David shook his head, "We can't afford for this to go public."
Eric lifted a hand, "I assure you we will keep this under wraps, Mr. Warner."
David took in a breath. He sat back down; feeling bewildered. "Blair can't know."
"We're aware," Eric stated, "Especially concerning her…" he paused, "friendship with Agent Polniaczek."
David sat back. "That's probably the only good thing about all of this. Jo keeping an eye on her."
Erick quirked his lips. "She's actually on a different assignment right now."
"What are you talking about?! I-I thought she was keeping Blair safe!" David's voice was rising.
"She was needed on another assignment," was all Eric offered.
David knew not to inquire further. "I want her safe."
Eric understood, "I have a security detail on her. Not to worry."
"Not to worry?" David took out a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped his upper lip. "She was working on a project with him!" David stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. "She was just asking me about him this morning. We hadn't heard from him."
"Look, Mr. Warner. You need to tell Blair he resigned."
David started to pace. "She's going to want to know why."
Eric thought about that for a moment. "I want you to type up a resignation letter from him and present it to her, after you sign it."
David stopped then looked at the agent. "What should it say?"
"Keep it short. Just tell her he resigned, and tell her he emptied his accounts. If she wants to conclude he was in danger, let her. At least you won't have to explain 'why' he resigned."
David was quiet. "I don't like this… lying to my daughter."
Eric understood; but there was no time for mistakes. "You have no choice. We don't really know why he left as of now. Taking millions of dollars from the company is embezzlement, and believe me, once we catch him, that will be the charge."
David sighed. "So tell her about him cleaning out his accounts, but not about embezzling millions of dollars from the company?"
A nod, "Correct. We don't need her to know; that would just complicate things, and possibly put her in danger."
This was a lot to absorb, David concluded. When he'd been summoned to JTI, he had hoped they'd solved the case and that the family was no longer in danger. Instead… he noticed Agent Nelson watching him. He blinked then slowly agreed.
"I'll do it."
4:57 p. m.
The loud engine was humming steadily, ready to start taxiing down the runway as Jo was briefed on board the small private jet. There were seven other agents joining her on the assignment to the Gragon Islands.
She was given her living accommodations, credit card and driving arrangements – all contained in a security pouch. She stored it then moved to take a seat. There was one available and, as she sat, realized it was someone she was quite familiar with.
Jo clicked her seat belt. "Hey, didn't know you were on this," she gave him a smile.
"Nelson put me in at the last minute," Agent Mendoza stretched, getting comfortable.
"Really?"
Norm offered a sly smile, "Actually, he asked me if I wanted to go."
"You wanted to go?" Jo asked, hiking an incredulous brow.
Agent Mendoza let out a quiet laugh, "Keeps me busy."
Jo nodded, completely understanding.
The plane started to head down the runway, the engine roaring as it did. Jo looked out of the window. This is it. She took a deep breath.
She had texted Tootie and Natalie one last time to tell them 'see you later' and to check in on her father from time to time. She'd tried to call Blair but… predictably, her phone number was blocked. She sighed. The plane lifted off after finally chasing down the runway. She could see the buildings, the statue of liberty and the harbor grow farther away. Manhattan Island was rapidly becoming a tiny dot.
It suddenly overwhelmed her and she took in a shuttered breath.
"Hey, you okay?" Norm had noticed her appearance.
Jo blinked back tears that had gathered on her lashes. "Yeah…" she gave him a smile before looking back out of the window. "… no…" she whispered.
Agent Mendoza shifted in his seat, remaining quiet until he could figure out what to say. He knew first hand what she was going through, and frankly… there were no words to make it better.
"For what it's worth, stay busy," he saw her sad look. "It'll get better," he offered. It wasn't much. Probably didn't amount to anything helpful, but at least she knew he cared.
"Yeah…" Jo offered a lopsided smile.
They had been up in the air for two hours. Jo had taken Agent Mendoza's advice and busied herself in the file she'd been briefed on. After an hour, she understood her assignment and closed the folder; yawning, then leaning her seat back.
They were high up, the clouds the only cushion between them and the ground; the distance growing longer and further away. She looked across from her. Norm had fallen asleep, his head crooked off to the side. She watched as he breathed, occasionally snoring. He looked peaceful. She tilted her head. He's off somewhere far away…away from it all… the life they lead… the danger, the hard times, the bitter… the good, and the… joyful.
Jo sighed softy at that. Facing the window again, she traced the wet droplets that were rolling down the surface … she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
No more walks on the beach.
5:43 p.m.
David had waited outside the door after knocking on it twice.
No answer.
Normally, he wasn't one to barge in on anyone, but lately nothing was going exactly normally."
He opened the door to Blair's office only to find his daughter standing at her window… staring out of it. The office was starting to take on a grayish hue, the sun behind the buildings creating a dim atmosphere.
She stood still and David quietly approached her. He cleared his voice which startled her, and Blair turned suddenly giving her father an alarmed look. She closed her eyes, taking in a breath once she recognized him.
"Sorry," David smiled sympathetically. "I knocked. Is everything alright?"
Blair swallowed then moved over to her desk, turning on a desk lamp. "Everything's fine," she started to gather loose papers together, piling them on her desk.
David frowned. She seemed… distracted. "You sure?"
"I'm fine, Daddy," she glanced up at him. "Was there something you wanted?" she clicked off her computer monitor.
David sat in the visitor's chair. "I need to talk to you about something," he paused, "very important."
Blair stuffed a file into her brief case. "Can we make it quick I have a meeting and I really don't need anything else to deal with right now," she stated, then zipped up one of the side pockets.
"I'll make it quick."
Blair noticed her father had a piece of paper in his hand. She eyed it with curiosity. "What?"
No time like the present. David held his chin up, capturing his daughter's attention. "Barry Winstead has left the company."
It was stated with such finality, that Blair almost thought he was mistaken. "What?!" she shook her head in disbelief. "When?"
"I don't know exactly when, but I was given a resignation letter," David presented the paper, giving it to Blair, who stared at it before taking it from him.
She skimmed over it. "Great, just great." She sat back hard in her seat.
David continued, "He took everything. His computer, notes, files, reports." He could see Blair was becoming livid, her brows bent in anger.
"Where is he?" she asked squinting at her father. "Is he in some kind of trouble? This is bizarre!"
"I have no idea, Blair. He's left New York apparently." David saw Blair's eyes grow large at the news.
"What do you mean?! Did he just disappear?" Blair gestured, flailing her arms.
I'll go along with that. David nodded. "Yes. Apparently, he cleaned out his bank accounts," he informed.
Blair sat in silence; not believing the kind of day she was having. It seemed almost surreal. "What the hell is going on, Daddy?" she pinned him squarely.
David hiked a brow. "I'm not sure I know."
Blair let out a loud sigh, "what was his reason for resigning?" she picked up the paper reading it again... pursue other opportunities. She shook her head.
"That wasn't made quite clear either," David chimed in.
"This is unacceptable." Blair threw the paper on her desk.
"Blair, just calm down," David said gently.
Blair's eyes flashed at him. "Don't try and appease me, I'm sick to death of that! Don't undermine me Daddy!"
David nodded then sighed. He was sure he was not on her good side right now, and decided to tread lightly. He watched as she picked up her in-office phone.
Blair put in a call to the head executive assistant for Marketing. She knew everyone was still there working as the new project had them busy until well after 5 p.m.
"I want all of the manager heads in the conference room on the twentieth floor in fifteen minutes!" she barked then hung up the phone. She pulled out her cell phone and started typing. "I'm cancelling my meeting with IT."
David watched as she stood them grabbed her briefcase, putting the strap on her shoulder. "What are you going to do?"
"What I know is the right thing to do." Blair rounded her desk and quickly headed out of the office.
"Blair, wait." David caught up to her.
Blair stopped then turned. "Please don't second guess me, Daddy," she turned back around.
"I was just going to say, slow down. Don't make any irrational decisions," David said calmly.
Blair gave her father a scowl. "Irrational?" she stopped herself. "Barry has our marketing plans for the region scaled out and outlined for the board – and now he's gone with that information," she explained as her father remained silent.
"I have to talk to his whole management team to try and piece together everything all over again! So don't lecture me about irrational decisions."
Blair had made her point. She turned again almost at the door.
"I understand," David said resolutely.
Oh really. Blair made her way back to her father, stopping right in front of him. She shook her head, suddenly feeling the weight of the day bear down on her. "Do you? Do you really understand?! Everyone and everything that I care about has abandoned me today. Abandoned me, Daddy!"
David noticed her eyes were red… like she had been crying. He reached out to touch her shoulder, only to have her move away.
"I'll be damned if I let this slip through my fingers too." With that, she headed out of the office.
David watched her go, then let out a sigh. He was concerned about her, and wondered if she had bit off more than she could chew. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone tapping it a few times; then waited for it to pick up.
"I told her…. She didn't take it well… Of course I know she can't find out! I'll keep an eye on her…"
8:45 p.m.
It was still quite warm outside, the night was quiet with just a hint of a breeze… even that high up, Blair noted. She was on her penthouse balcony cradling a glass of white wine – still in her work attire.
As were they all. All of the Marketing team was assembled in her living room. The couch, dining table and kitchen island full of laptops, papers, files, takeout food and coffee cups as eleven of them diligently worked to meet the deadline she had set. She didn't really feel that safe at the office after hours, therefore, her idea to move the entire team to her apartment was the next logical choice.
Blair ran a hand through her hair then took a sip of wine, looking out over the expanse of the city skyline. She was determined to see this through. With the sudden exit of Barry Winstead, it was, in fact, an emergency; and was urgent they piece together his whole part of the presentation again.
The nerve of him. Blair walked toward the balcony door. She looked in on her team as they milled about trying to put together various reports. She sighed, then walked over to her arrangement of flowers in her flower bed; looking them over.
She took another sip then turned as someone tapped on the balcony door. It was one of the executive assistants.
"Ms. Warner? There's someone here to see you."
A blonde brow hiked, "Who is it, Darla?"
"Her name's Amanda Palmero," said the small blonde. She waited as she saw Blair nervously bite her lip.
"Yeah, okay… its fine. Please show her in… thanks." Blair gave the young woman a quick smile.
Darla nodded then stepped out of the way as Amanda stepped onto the balcony.
"Hi." Blair gave her a pleasant smile.
"Hey." Amanda looked back into the living room. "What's going on? " She made her way over to Blair, taking a peek at the cityscape as she did.
Blair blew out a breath, "A bit of insanity at the office. We're working late to catch up."
Oh. Amanda gave Blair a warm smile. "Well… I thought we were doing dinner."
"Oh, God, I totally forgot, Amanda, I'm so sorry," Blair said apologetically.
Amanda could see frustration written all over executive.
"No, no, no, it's fine." she looked into the living room again. "I can see you have more important things to attend to."
Blair pinched the bridge of her nose then let her hand drop. "Thank you for understanding," she put a smile on for the curator.
"Maybe I can bring you something?" Amanda asked, a hopeful lilt coloring her voice.
Blair shook her head, "I'm fine really. I couldn't eat a thing right now." She tried to relax; taking a sip of wine.
Gray eyes studied the visibly agitated woman. "Something's bothering you."
A polite smile, "I'm okay," she took another sip.
Amanda wasn't buying it. "I know you, Blair."
Blair licked her lips, then moved to the balcony rail. The wind blew the tresses back from her face as she looked down at the city… the cabs, buses and people milling about. She hesitantly looked up into concerned gray eyes. "I'm fine really."
Amanda looked out over the expanse of the city, then bit the inside of her lip trying to decide the best way to phrase what she wanted to say next. "I heard your conversation with Jo earlier."
There was longer silence as brown eyes returned their gaze to the streets below. She had wrestled with her conscience on whether or not to tell Amanda… but right now? This was not a good time with everything going on. She swallowed.
"Look, Blair, if she was pressuring you about something…" Amanda waited, seeing a returned anxious look.
"She wasn't pressuring me," Blair said softly, putting her glass down.
Amanda gave her a nervous smile. "I was actually surprised you told her about us."
She saw the somber look; the blonde tried to hide it with something else that was somewhere between sad and embarrassed. Amanda tried to understand Blair's mood tonight. She heard her exhale.
"I'm sorry."
Amanda frowned, "What is it?"
Blair fingered the top of her wine glass, circling it. "I just can't right now."
Amanda moved to stand beside her. She lifted her hand, smoothing it over a tense back. "It's okay. I know you've had a rough day we can just get together tomorrow."
Blair moved from the touch, then lowered her head. "No, not tomorrow."
Amanda let her hand fall. She blinked. "Well… what about this weekend? I was thinking of taking you to this little French bistro I know you'll love. They just opened… to take your mind off of your troubles?"
Blair closed her eyes, "Amanda, please," she whispered.
She was tense and closed off, Amanda observed. "What is it Blair? You can be honest with me," she said, concern etching her tone.
Blair took in a breath, then released it; unsure of how to explain. "Can I?"
Amanda's brows knit, "Of course."
Blair wrung her hands together, looking at them; then faced worried gray eyes, "I can't do this."
Amanda cocked her head to the side, "Do what?" she was starting to feel anxious.
Blair took a steadying breath, "This… us."
A flutter of dread went through Amanda. "What are you… what are you saying?"
Blair moved across the balcony. She threaded a hand through her hair, "I-I just need some time," she took a peek at Amanda who stood dumbfounded, "Some space to think."
A quick quirk of lips, "I see." Amanda remained quiet.
"Please understand."
Amanda barked out a bitter laugh. "Oh, I understand."
Brown eyes were almost pleading, and Amanda shook her head, her lips set in a thin line. "It's her isn't it?"
Blair caught her breath, "I really don't want to talk about—"
Fuck this. "I heard you!" Amanda stared at the blonde who had attempted to speak only to lose the nerve. "I heard you, Blair." Amanda kept her voice down.
That was met with more damaging evidence of silence from the executive. Amanda could feel her temper rising, "You played me."
"Please try to understand." Blair peeked into the living room, glad her crew was still busy working.
Amanda crossed her arms over her chest, "It's always been her hasn't it, Blair?"
She waited. Waited for maybe an answer she wasn't expecting. Hoping she was wrong… but… silence. She saw the guilty look in brown eyes. "Yeah… well…" Amanda said bitterly as she moved to leave the balcony.
"Amanda I never meant to hurt you, please know that." Amanda heard the shiver in Blair's voice. So I guess it is true. Amanda shook her head, closing her eyes.
"How nice." She kept her back to Blair, hearing stealth heels click on the balcony surface as she approached her.
"You're hurt. I take full responsibility for that." Amanda could feel Blair's warmth as she stood close to her, not wanting the people on the other side of the glass door to hear them.
"Right."
"Just… please know I would never do that intentionally," Blair tried to explain; hoping to placate their situation. She waited a few beats, "Say something."
Amanda faced her, "What do you want me to say?"
Gray eyes were obviously trying to avoid looking at her. Blair felt the guilt of it all. "Just know I adore you."
Blair heard the scoff but kept on going. "You have been there for me… helped me through a lot of things and I am grateful to you for that." She finished.
Amanda held a brusque look, "I get it now." She smiled snidely, "You used me."
Blair rigorously shook her head, "No, I would never do that."
"Of course not. Not intentionally," Amanda purred harshly. She stood her ground, noticing Blair check the living room ever so often. "But you did, Blair."
Blair stood quietly, letting Amanda finish. She felt almost defenseless.
"What. You think we can just be friends now?" Amanda glared, her lips twitching, "I don't think so."
Amanda moved to open the door, her hand poised on the pull.
"Please, just." Blair motioned for her to stop.
Amanda took one last glare before turning, "I'll just leave you to your work. Obviously you need a distraction more than anything tonight."
"I never meant to hurt you." It was said quickly, and it stopped Amanda from pulling the door open.
"I'm sure you didn't," she pulled the door open, taking one last look at Blair, "Goodbye, Blair." You will regret this.
Blair watched as the curator made a hasty exit out of the penthouse. A few of the managers had looked up from their laptops with puzzled expressions as she hastily left, slamming the front door.
Blair chose not to address it, and instead closed the balcony door, and went back to the railing; guilt wrapped around her like a vice.
She put her elbows on the rail, holding her head in her hands. There was an entire team waiting for her. She didn't feel ready to lead at the moment. Not really sure of what she was suppose to feel at all. Numb, maybe? Oh God what a day. She noticed the night sky had set itself up for the evening, the stars twinkling as the moon glowed at half mast. Blair drew in a breath. She had steeled her heart, her head, her feelings all day… ever since…
No. I won't go there.
She straightened, looking at the busy room in front of her. No. "I'm a Warner. I have a job and a duty." It was decided. No more pity parties. She squared her shoulders and steeled herself. "Time to move on."
Blair entered the room, noticing several heads pop up as she stepped around the table to stand in the center of the room.
"So, how are we doing?"
One of the marketing project managers piped up. "We have four reports done." He held up the sheets.
Blair nodded, "How many more to go?"
"Ten," he sighed then placed them in a folder.
"Blair don't you think we should convene for the evening? It's getting late." Emily had been quietly sitting on the sofa. She was sipping a glass of water through a straw. Blair gave her an irritated look as she leaned toward the Advertising VP.
"Well then I suggest you either get comfortable or retire for the evening, Emily, because I'm not letting this project fall even further behind. Understand me?"
Several heads looked up, wide eyed. Silence graced the room.
Emily stared at the president of Warner textiles, taken aback, she let the straw dangle from her mouth, swallowing. "Perfectly."
Blair flicked a condescending smile, "Good. Anyone else have a suggestion?" she asked the room… which remained silent. A few grumbles could be heard.
Another smile, "Great. Then I guess we should get back to work." It was said overly perky, and Blair moved to pick up a file from the table, opening it.
"Excuse me, Ms. Warner?"
"Yes?" Blair addressed Darla, who had moved to stand beside her.
"I think we need to include Mr. Warner, I mean Robert Warner's report before we finalize the estimate for the quarterly numbers in his division." The small blonde woman blinked at her as she waited.
"Robert's been gone for a while, Blair," Emily interjected.
"Robert is on temporary leave," Blair addressed Emily. She raised her voice to address the room. "He's been periodically reporting to me in the evenings."
All eyes were on her now and the president of Warner Textiles moved back to stand in front of everyone. "I, in turn, put an in-office email of our meetings notes in a secure file and have outlined the particulars. From there, each one of you was given a copy."
She looked around the room, seeing several stunned faces; a few people had started to type on their laptops and eventually the whole room vibrated with keys clicking rapidly.
Blair pressed her lips together, "Anyone care to tell me why none of this was implemented?"
"W-we just thought…"
Blair slid her eyes over to the assistant. "Let me stop you right there, Darla. You thought is not an acceptable excuse."
The young woman balked, but remained quiet. Blair continued, "Robert has managed to be on leave and still do his job. No excuses," her voice took on a low register.
"You have until 2 a.m. to read the files and get the information in an outlined form," Blair informed the room again. "I'm sure each of you values your job well enough to know I expect nothing but stellar effort from each and every one of you." She took in a breath.
"Your job as well as the company depends on it," Blair let a feral smile etch her face, baring teeth.
"You want it finished tonight?" Someone had blurted out.
"What part of by 2 a.m. did I not make clear?"
"Yes. Thank you," the voice wavered then thinned out.
Blair sent a scathing glare around the room. Everyone had their heads down, diligently working. She was pleased at that. "I'm sure you all will not disappoint."
She left the room and went back out on the balcony, closing the door behind her. She stood there for a moment then moved, taking a seat in one of the lounge chairs. She wrapped her arms around herself; she missed Gigi – the little dog was with Meg tonight.
Blair took a few moments, letting her mind think of the project, the revelation about Barry Winstead was unsettling. She'd talk to her father about that later. She reached in her skirt pocket and took out her phone, staring at it, then making up her mind and tapped in a number. She listened until the phone picked up.
"Hi, mother. I'm fine… I um…" a breath, "do you still have room for one more? … yes … great. I'll be ready…" she put a playful note in her voice that she didn't really feel, "there's nothing like St. Tropez… I will… bye."
Blair taped off the phone as her smile faded.
Florenza's Café - Midtown, Manhattan
"Thank you, Ms. Ramsey. You were great in Two Crow's Feet."
Tootie scribbled a few words on the napkin, then handed it back to the woman. "You're welcome and thank you."
She smiled at the young lady, noticing her eyes grow wide at the signature. Blushing, she left the table.
Natalie drew in a breath. "Should I call apartment maintenance and tell them to widen our front door?"
Tootie put her pen in her purse giving Natalie a puzzled look.
"So you can fit your head through it, Tootie," Natalie stated.
A smirk, "Ha, ha." Tootie sipped her sparkling cider. "Can I help it if I'm getting recognized now?"
Natalie sipped her coffee, "I can only imagine they'll be beating down the door after your Shakespeare premier."
Tootie smiled getting comfortable in their usual booth at Florenza's Café. They had scheduled their monthly get together for today, with the hopes that Jo and Blair could join them, of course. Natalie would've almost guaranteed they would since they were both living in town. When she got Jo's text that she was suddenly leaving town and Blair's call saying she was swamped at work… well. Crap.
A sigh, "Do you think we'll ever be the four musketeer's together again, Tootie?"
Tootie quirked her lips, "Hopefully before Christmas," she bit into her cinnamon roll.
"Your opening night is soon. I hope Blair can make that at least," Nat looked around the famous café. It was starting to fill up.
Tootie swallowed, "I've already threatened her, she'll be there," she chuckled.
They had been there for over an hour. Dinner had been great as they were presently working on dessert. The two settled into a light banter discussing their jobs, life in the city and possibly wanting to take a trip somewhere in the future.
Florenza's had quite a few notable famous people tonight, and Tootie and Natalie gawked when one would enter the restaurant. They had a ringside seat from the vantage point of their booth. Natalie sighed. She mused at just how much her life had changed since the last time they'd gotten together.
Tootie was, no doubt, about to become a star. She was ready for it. Her play was a few days from debut, and she was already reading about how much the community was excited for her to shine onstage. She took another sip of coffee.
Tootie looked at Natalie. Things were changing, and she smiled at her table mate who returned the smile with a puzzled one of her own. She knew her closest, best friend may indeed be the next, most awesome star reporter the world had ever seen... someday.
Tootie lifted her glass as Natalie followed suit. "Here's to the four musketeers."
One month later…
(South of France)
The sun was slowly sinking behind the ocean's horizon; the late afternoon greeting the early evening as two figures poised on the beach close to the surf.
Blair had donned her 'painting attire' as she often did when in France. She loved the tranquil nature of painting outdoors – as did many of the natives and tourists. She wore a blue oversized button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and white pedal pushers, complete with sandals. She had her hair swept back in a loose ponytail, fending off wisps of hair as they blew in her face.
A pallet loaded with various paint colors was gripped in her left hand while she dusted on the first strokes of paint – the horizon, sea and shore colors went on first.
Monica Warner had stretched out a reclining chair and she laid back, legs crossed at the ankles. She'd put on a floppy hat and shades as she looked out over the seascape, breathing in the mist and watching the waves as they came in. She had been nursing a glass of her favorite vino as she relaxed. "Lovely evening, dear," she quipped then took a sip. She held her glass out to the side as she looked at her daughter who was in beside her.
"Blair?"
Two more dabs were put in place on the canvass. "Hmm?" She mixed the two colors together.
Monica watched her with mild fascination. "Darling I'm worried about you," she took another sip.
"I'm fine, mother." Blair applied another color onto her brush.
Monica tilted her head, looking at the painting as it came to life. Blair was good. No. She was an excellent painter; something she'd gotten from both sides of the family. "Are you sure?"
Blair paused then turned, looking at her mother. She gave her a scoffing smile. "Of course." That was met with pursing lips and the lifting of one not so convinced eyebrow.
Blair knew that look. She groaned. "What?"
Monica sighed, "I've just never seen you like this," she swirled the wine in her glass.
Blair turned and added more color to the sky. "Like what?" she added more paint to her brush.
Monica rolled her eyes a bit. Where to start. "Well, we've been here for two weeks and you've hardly been enthusiastic about anything we've seen," she accused. "Blair darling, we're in St. Tropez. You've loved St. Tropez since you were a child," Monica had leaned forward; concern etched her voice.
Blair paused her brush over the canvas then cleared her throat. She dabbed on more paint then brushed on more colors. "I'm fine, I've just been thinking about my project, is all."
Monica fell back, exasperated. "Oh, for…" she sat forward again, "dear, leave the office at the office!"
"I know… I will." Blair had her back to her mother. She rolled her eyes.
Monica waited a beat. "Good," she took a sip of wine. "I mean… what on earth could be so important that you couldn't enjoy France?" she asked, then finished her glass.
Blair sighed, facing her mother. "You're absolutely right, Mother," a brief smile.
"Good." Monica sat up fully, then stood, straightening her hat a bit before addressing Blair. "Well… I'm going to go and freshen up for dinner," she patted her daughter's shoulder.
"I'll be there in a minute." Blair watched as Monica dusted herself off then made her way back to the beach house, empty wine glass in hand.
She turned her attention back to the easel. Taking a deep breath, she poised her brush over the canvass… holding it there, then glanced over the top of it at the seascape. The waves were crashing harder on the shore as the tide was coming in. Blair stood mesmerized by it all, transfixed as the sun had set itself halfway between the sky and the crest tops of the ocean. It painted the whole sky a brilliant array of multi colors.
She listened to the distinct sounds of the beach: the surf, the wind, the seagulls singing above her as she flicked her eyes to the canvass again ready to capture the moment before it faded…
She took in a breath closing her eyes.
Willing her mind not to go there… but to no avail. It returned to that one brief reminder… that one evening she'd shared with Jo… on the couch with a scene much like what she had in front of her.
Brown eyes snapped open, a deep breath as she punched the canvas, trying to unload the paint that was on her brush. Again and again she'd finally given in to making long, strong strokes, arching strokes as her eyes became crowded by tears; scraping the canvass as she did.
The brush was thrown at the canvass as she pushed the easel away, "Dammit!"
She was breathing hard, and her knees bent as her body collapsed to sit on the ground. The cool sand was felt on her butt and legs.
She had tried so hard… so very hard to keep her mind on her work, to not think about anything else, for over a month. She'd been more shrewd, cocky and focused than ever; her staff - often afraid of even asking her a simple question. She had snapped off the heads of the vice presidents of various departments, during long board meetings.
Cold, unfeeling… that was the new president of Warner Textiles.
Blair crossed her arms, grabbing her shoulders and brought her knee's up close to her chest; wrapping herself up in a ball as the wind blew strands of hair around her. She rocked back and forth as a flood of overwhelming emotion grabbed her… her heart slamming in her chest in rhythm with the pounding surf.
She had held it off for as long as she could, ignoring it - she'd tried to shake it. She couldn't deny it. Turning her head to the side she let a fresh row of tears flow freely.
Her mother's words echoed back to her as she rested her cheek on her knees: …what on earth could be so important that you couldn't enjoy France?
Blair breathed in heavily, her eyes fluttering until finally she closed them; letting out a shuddering breath…
I fell in love.
My apologies for the delay. Giving thanks to all of the reviews, follows and messages. You must know I read, laugh, nod along with and cry with each and every one of them. You truly keep me going...