"I'll see you in a month, Eda." Doctor Helen's voice comes as heavily coated with sweet. It makes me wonder if she put on some kind of voice filter on the call, for I do not remember her being so soft spoken.
"Yes?" My voice comes out a question.
"Oh, almost forgot. I heard Mrs. Brown's appointment is still on you."
"Yes, Dr. Helen," I answer.
She sighs and I can bet she's rubbing the bridge of her nose by habit. "It's on Friday, Eda. I know how enthusiastic you are about Mrs. Brown's case, but see if it truly fits your fill. Dr. Kaitlyn can handle it," she says.
"It's her last checkup. I want to be the one to do it. I'll ask to postpone the—" I take a pause to digest the nauseating word. "—the honeymoon."
"Alright. I like the energy. Most newlyweds try to cancel their schedules."
I laugh nervously. Her praise doesn't feel as good due to the void of information: I'm married to a workaholic maniac who I only talk to argue. "Thank you."
"Goodbye and again have a nice honeymoon." She hangs up.
I stare at my cellphone in horror, wondering when she became so considerate of personal lives.
Something is definitely off.
I don't ponder it for long. Not with another straining task ahead of me: I have to see him.
A few minutes later I find myself pacing in front of Asher's office—or more specifically the enormously gigantic doors that look like they lead to a dragon's lair—and contemplating whether to go in or not.
I finally decide to not even knock and barge in. The spacious room takes me by surprise for a second. Wooden shelves cover the right wall while the left is clear between the eye and garden. Asher stands aside the wide desk opposite to the door with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar undone and his hair ruffled. He looks a complete a mess as he talks to someone on a cellphone, types away on a laptop rhythmically and occasionally reads a document—All at the same time.
My brows elevate in surprise. "Multitasking," I say.
Asher looks at me. I open my mouth again but stop when he raises his hand. I scoff at the action and rest my hands on my hips at an attempt to seem impatient. Which I most definitely am.
After a few exchanges with the person on call he hangs up, scribbles something on a paper, sits down on his chair and turns his attention to me. "Yes?"
I reflexively assume he's back to Grumpy mode and watch him for a while in complete silence and only speak when he raises an eyebrow, gesturing me to state my affairs and then get out.
"I have an appointment on Friday. I know I took a vacation but it's been schedule since two months," I say, not leaving anything to later explanations.
Asher's raised eyebrows drop down in a frown. "So?" he asks.
"Well can we leave next week." I make sure there's no question for permission in my voice.
His frown intensifies further, genuinely confused. "Where?"
I tilt my head in a 'do I have to spell it out?' way. When he doesn't react I sigh. "On the honeymoon," I enunciate with visible disgust.
Realization dawns so clearly on his face when he takes a deep breath and mutters under his breath, "Forgot about that."
I scowl. "I'm not pumped either." And plop down on his couch, noticing this will be a long conversation—maybe. "So you're going as well?" I raise a brow and make it obvious I'm not content with the thought.
Asher spares me a tired look. "Well, technically a honeymoon isn't a honeymoon if you go alone," he says with his lips forced into a smile. "So yes, I'll be stuck with you for a month."
"Yay," I say, asserting nonchalance.
He rolls his eyes. "Mountains or sea?"
"Huh?"
"Mountains or sea?" He repeats with more force.
"Mountains. Why?"
He grabs a file from his desk, stands up and walks to the door. "We leave in two days."
I jolt up with wide eyes. "What? That won't cover the day my appointment is scheduled."
"So? It won't cover any of my meetings," he says and then turns the door handle and walks out.
I follow after him as he turns right and climbs up the stairs. "Well, my work is more important," I state.
"How is that more important?" he asks reaching the hallway.
"I save people. You close deals." The words come out too quickly and I'm embarrassed by my own hasty thoughts—but too frustrated to take them back.
Asher seems offended as he abruptly halts at the door to our room, startling me to a stop just a few steps from him as well. He turns to face me. "I create jobs, salaries, economy, services and whatnot," he says and not waiting for an answer or reaction walks inside our room.
I stay quiet, knowing I was wrong to comment like that. I watch him put the file he took on the table and walking in the dresser. I follow after him a few seconds of contemplating whether to or not. "I can't back out," I tell him, hoping he doesn't hear the desperation behind my voice.
Asher finally stops. I do too. There's silence for a few seconds as I stare holes in the dark marble ground and bite my lip to the point of bleeding.
"I couldn't back out too. But here we are," he says with no other feel whatsoever in his voice.
"Come on!" I shout and look up to find Asher in the middle of taking his shirt off. My eyes widen in the most shameful way and I think to tell him to continue and not to mind me but find him frowning and turn away instantly to face the door. "Dude! What the hell are you doing?!"
"What else did you expect to me do in a bathroom?" he asks.
I look around and gulp when I realize where I walked in with him. "Shit," I mutter. Behind me he continues to take off his clothes. "Alright! I really have to see this person. She's been my patient for a long time and I want to be there for her last appointment."
There's a killing silence until Asher lets out a deep breath. "Fine. We leave after your work."
"I wasn't really asking," I tell him. But before I can slide in my second condition I feel his hands on my back and fight a shiver.
"Now get out," he says.
"But—" I turn around but he shuts the door on my face. I stand there for a second, astound, before scoffing to myself. "I hope there's a shark in the tub and it bites your thing off!"
When I hear nothing but the sound of water pouring I turn around and stomp my way out the dresser and back in the room. I jump on the bed and punch a pillow. "Who does he think he is? Stupid jerk!"
After a few seconds of challenging an inanimate object to a wrestling match, I sit up straight. My eyes go over to the small file resting on the bedside. I remember it as that Asher placed there before walking in the bathroom. It makes me curious as he has kept all his work in his study till now.
I don't ponder for long and instead tip toe towards it with a diabolical plan in mind.
I look around for a pen and when I find it, I start to doodle.
I'm done in no more than two minutes. I get up and run in the dresser to get changed for my evening run.
I see Asher leaving the house with the file in hand, all dressed up, as I leave.
It doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together. A Suit is equals to a Meeting which us equal to a Deal. For which a written contract is needed. And a file is equal to a contract—A contract with Asher's doodle.
I pinch my lips together and watch as Asher's car drives out the doors. Laughing I turn around and start to run my way to the gates and out them.
•
No more than an hour later I get back and run into the dinning hall. Earphones still plugged in my ears I take a seat and dig in the miracles of snacks Jess had prepared for me. Calories to replace the calories I burnt. A balanced life. Or so I don't care if it isn't.
After a few minutes of songs and food I feel a light but undeniably firm tap on my shoulder. I look up to find Asher standing behind me, an impatient glower on his face. I plug out my earphones and place them on the table. I turn to raise my brows in question. "Yes?"
"Did you doodle on my files?" he asks through gritted teeth. I purse my lips. "Clemonte?" His growl is low but callously lined.
I gulp. "Maybe and maybe not."
He runs a hand through his hair, calming himself while petrifying me. Sensing the red radiating from him, I on cue stand up and run towards the nearest weapon. But hands wrap around my waist before I even move an inch. I let out a childish squeak as Asher picks me up, plops me on his shoulder and starts to walk—to a torture room, probably.
I paddle my legs, punch air and struggle against the provoked savage. "Alright! I'm sorry! Really! Let's just talk it out! Be the reasonable person you are! Cherauno!"
I keep shouting as he enters his office and heaves me down on his desk. I kick out my legs trying to struggle as he picks up something from besides me.
My eyes widen at the realization. "No! No! Damn it! No!" I yell.
Asher traps my hands in his one and leans forward. My breath gets caught up in my throat but i still manage to push words out: "Listen, I know you're angry but I can sue you for this."
My threat doesn't seem to worry him much as his tyrannical grin widens a few more inches. Inches. "Try me."
•
"I guess, I went a bit overboard," Asher explains himself as I try to scrub the permanent ink off my face.
My head snaps his way. "A little overboard?!"
"Alright, I went extremely overboard. But drawing a doodle of me shitting on a millions worth of contract was not genius," he says, raising his hands in a surrender I do not need.
"And writing idiot all over my face is?!" I ask in a fit of disbelief.
He shrugs. "Not genius but revenge sure is sweet."
"I apologized!"
"Well, I do apologize as well." He performs a formal bow and smiles.
I roll my eyes.
"Also, did Mrs. Denver tell you about the dinner party tonight?" he asks.
I freeze. "What dinner party?"
"The Kings are hosting it tonight," he says.
"No." I stare at him in disbelief, eyes wide.
"Yes."
"No." I assure myself.
"Yes."
Asher doesn't expect it when I lurch at him but still manages to dodge and run.
I run after him. "Cherauno!" My scream bellows out the roof.
Laughing, he runs for his life.
"Oh, you're so going to pay for this, you urinated baby plastic pool!" I shout, going full on wild monkey on him.