Chasing Vivi(41)

I nod my reply. Who the hell knows? I've always taken care of myself,  and will now. I eat as much as I can, not wanting to hurt Regina's  feelings, but my stomach is hive full of buzzing bees. I'm so  disappointed in Prescott I can't think straight. The minute I cracked  the door open to let him in, he pulls a manwhore move.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

"If you are."

I order an Uber, which I can't really afford, and we go downstairs. It's  already waiting when we get there. I live close, so it's only a short  ride. Once we get inside, Regina leaves my bag in the living room.         

     



 

"Please come in."

"Vivi, what are you doing here?" Eric asks, walking out from his bedroom.

"I'm home."

"I can see that, but I thought we decided you were going to stay another day or two. I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Well, here I am."

After I introduce Regina to Eric, I explain that Prescott shut down and  then didn't come home. I tell him how I can't handle feeling like he  doesn't want me there and his manwhoring just confirmed that.

Eric looks like he wants to say something, but I cut him off.

"So what's up with you?" I ask.

"I had an interview yesterday and then I sort of partied after."

"Oh? Where did you interview?"

Now his face flushes a bright shade of crimson.

"Oh, God, I should've told you, but I had an interview at Whitworth. Prescott got me in the door."

I disguise my super hurt feelings and plaster on a smile. "Eric, that's  wonderful. This could be your big break you've been waiting for."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not. You have to seize the opportunity when it hits."

He almost knocks me down to hug me.

"Whoa, boy, hold it back a bit."

"Sorry. I was freaked that you'd hate my guts."

"Okay, pump the brakes on that thought. My feelings might be a little  hurt that you didn't tell me, but hate you? Isn't that a bit extreme?"

I catch a glimpse of Regina over his shoulder and it registers she must  feel like the third wheel in the conversation. "Hey, let's talk about  this later."

Then I go to Regina and say, "I don't know how to thank you. You've been more than kind."

Her warm smile lets me know she feels the same. "I wish you all the best  and if you ever need a helping hand, please call me." She presses a  sticky note into my palm and then leaves.

"She seemed nice."

"She is. But I couldn't stay there another minute."

Eric puts his arms around me. "I'm sorry for everything you've been  through. It's going to get better, Viv. I have a good feeling about  things."

"I wish I did."

I lug my bag into my room with Eric protesting. "I have to do these  things for myself. Besides, I feel much better." Physically, anyway.

"Want some coffee? There's still some left."

I accept his offer to make me a cup. We sit and talk over things that  have happened. His excitement over his interview is contagious. He gives  me hope at finding a position.

"Why don't you do consulting in the interim?"

"I might have to. But I'm going to talk to Lucas about coming back to work."

"You can't be serious. You only have one arm."

"I have two, but only one works." I hold them up for emphasis. "I can  still mix drinks one-handed. Besides, I go to the doctor next week and  find out what my restrictions will be."

Eric's brows slant in question.

"Really. I think I can do it."

"We'll see. The other hurdle is making Lucas believe you."

Shrugging, I add, "I'll just have to prove it to him."



The following Tuesday, I go for my check-up. My physician is pleased  with my progress and says the X-rays look good. He's not exactly keen on  the bartending idea, but agrees to let me do it as long as I promise  not to lift anything heavier than a glass. But the best news is he's  going to switch my cast to a splint next week. That means showering will  be easier and I'll be able to scratch my arm without using a coat  hanger.

The little things in life.

Prescott never called nor did I really expect him to. I'm sure he came  home to an empty house and assumed things were over. If so, he'd be  right. I won't allow my heart to be involved with someone who thinks he  can treat me like his own personal doormat. I'm still pissed, though,  not gonna lie. But I'm more pissed at myself than anything. I let him  in. Okay, not all the way. We didn't have sex or anything. Yet, I  would've ripped my pants off that one night if I hadn't been so banged  up. And this is all that damn Joe Delvecchio's fault. Everything goes  back to that little greasy-headed fucker.

I even have to go to court for that sleazy bastard's trial. I only hope I  can sit there without trying to scratch his eyeballs out. The attorneys  that Prescott hired called, but I told them not to bother. The idea of  being tied to him in any way leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I'll let  the prosecutors do their jobs and hopefully, he'll go to prison, as he  deserves. Lots of pictures were taken of me when I was in the hospital,  swollen and bruised, and that has to help the case. I'm still purple in  some areas and turning green in others-an attractive sight for sure.         

     



 

I delay my visit to The Meeting Place until after my cast has been  changed to a splint. Lucas warmly embraces me. He's called a few times,  but it was early on. Now over two weeks have passed and my face isn't  swollen anymore. He tells me how good I look.

"Oh, come on, Lucas. I look like a moldy grape."

He laughs. "Now that's a unique description."

"Well, I'm purple turning green. You can't argue with that."

"You look awesome. I don't care what you say."

"And you're full of it. But, I'll take the compliment."

It's late afternoon, so the place isn't crowded yet.

"How's business?" I ask.

"Great. But I miss you back here with me."

I scrunch up my face. "That's why I'm here. I want to return to work."

"Viv-"

"Before you say anything, hear me out. My doctor cleared it. He said  it's okay as long as I don't do any heavy lifting with my arm. Mixing  cocktails is fine. I can do most of it one-handed. Lucas, you have to  let me come back. I'm going out of my mind. Please." I fold my hands in a  prayer pose, but it's awkward since the one is in a splint and kind of  angled funny.

"Oh, man, Vivi. What if that crazy ass possessive boyfriend of yours  comes in here? If he sees you working, he'll kick my ass from here to  California."

The blank look on my face must clue Lucas into the fact that I don't know what he's talking about.

"Prescott Beckham. Your filthy rich boyfriend who will destroy me if I do this."

I take a giant step backward and hold up both arms like I'm under  arrest. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Then my index finger shoots up. "One, he is  not my boyfriend and I don't care what anyone has told you." My second  finger joins the first. "Two, he doesn't have even the tiniest say in  what I do." The third finger pops up. "And three, I really don't care  what Prescott Beckham does. He can jump off the Empire State Building as  far as I'm concerned."

"Wow, you two must've had one helluva fight."

I give a noncommittal shrug, not wanting to give him details. This is too personal and Lucas is a work friend.

"All I can say is the night you were injured-"

"Can we not rehash that? It's a little raw for me."

"Yeah, sorry. So, you really think you can handle it?"

I perk up. "I'd like to start on a slow day or night. Definitely not a weekend."

"Okay, Vivi, we can do that. I've missed you, like I said. You're a great worker."

"Eeeep!" I hop a little and then hug him. "Thank you. I promise it'll be fine."

That's my mantra and I'm sticking with it.

When I get home to tell Eric, he looks like someone threw him in the spin cycle. "What's wrong with you?" I ask.

"I'll tell you what's wrong. Whitworth Enterprises, that's what. Those  people are crazy over there. I had no idea accepting that position would  require me to be doing all this stuff before I actually started it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh my God, Vivi." He fans himself dramatically. "I have to take a drug  test, then they do a background check on me. I guess they want to make  sure I'm not doing heroin on the side or I'm a Russian spy or something.  Then I have to get them copies of my certifications so they can get me  ID cards for all the markets we'll be going to."

"Seems to me that's sort of the usual for any large corporation."

"I know, but I have to maintain my other job and it's hard to find the time to get it all done."

Poor Eric. But I can't really feel sorry for him because he's getting ready to step into the job of a lifetime.

"Quit the restaurant, Eric. You're too nice. Just tell them what's going on and you can't do it all."

"I can't. They've been too good to me."