Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

5. Kavi

KAVI

“What do you mean, it’s dead?” I ask my mom, turning the knob on our laundry machine as if she hadn’t tried that herself. I open and close the lid and push the Start button, hoping for a miracle. “It was working fine a couple of days ago.”

I don’t mean for my tone to sound accusatory, but it comes out that way, anyway. It’s just that my mother—God love her—can be a bit of a klutz when it comes to household appliances. It’s not intentional, and she’s so remorseful afterward, but the woman was born cursed with the worst of Murphy’s Law when it comes to electronics.

Last month it was our blender—“I don’t know why, it just blew up!”—and a few weeks before that, it was the vacuum. “It just started smoking. This is the problem with second-hand stuff.”

And now this.

“I know it was working a couple of days ago, Kavi,” she soothes in her thick Indian accent. “But I used it the same way I have all these years, and boom! Dead!”

I’d laugh at her animated explanation if this wasn’t the last thing I needed.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, my mind zipping a mile a minute as I add a new laundry machine to the list of things I need to pay for.

It’s been a horrendous day, starting from the moment I discovered my boss, the man who fired me at the restaurant, was also Madison’s dad. Not only that, but if I thought he couldn’t dislike me more, I was gravely mistaken. If it was possible, his hatred for me might be even stronger now.

Seriously, what are the freaking chances?

I won’t deny I’d thought of him often since our first disastrous meeting, but I’d never in a million years expected him to be the head of Case Geo.

Clearly, he was just as surprised to see me. Though, ‘surprised’ might be putting it mildly. Shocked and irate might be more in the ballpark of how he looked. His cruel words, telling me he expected nothing from me, still ring in my ears even now, over two hours later.

And if that wasn’t enough, I’m now stuck dealing with yet another reason I desperately need this job.

It’s like the list of issues keeps growing—there’s still that overdue rent notice, a vacuum that needs to be replaced, an upcoming electricity bill, and now a broken laundry machine.

I’m not even going to acknowledge the screeching noise my car has been making every time I turn.

“Come on.” My mom grasps my shoulders, turning me toward our small dining room and away from the new reason for my headache. “Let me grab you a plate of dinner. I made your favorite—puris and chole. I can’t believe you had to stay so late on your first day. What kind of heartless boss makes you do that?”

I groan, thinking of said heartless boss, as I allow my mother to steer me into a seat next to my brother. She bustles into the kitchen, the clattering of dishes providing a momentary distraction in my thoughts.

I rest my eyes on my brother, hovering over what appears to be an SAT prep book, studying for the standardized tests at the end of summer.

Neil wordlessly slides a bowl of strawberries in my direction, and I note the smudge of dirt on the side of his face. Lifting my hand instinctively, I wipe it off with my thumb before he grunts, waving it away and going back to his work.

I chuckle at his gruff demeanor but can’t help feel the warmth of his simple gesture.

Like Mom, he’s been working two jobs this summer—one at the car wash and the other mowing lawns around the neighborhood—hoping to make enough to help out around the house.

And that thought leaves a heaviness in my chest, just like it always does.

He shouldn’t have to carry our family burdens just yet. He should be out enjoying his summer with friends, playing video games and watching movies. Instead, he’s home every night after an exhausting day of work, studying in hopes of getting a scholarship like I did.

Mom places a plate in front of me, telling me about her day as she walks over to the living room to fold laundry on the couch, when my phone lights up with a message.

Madison

Hey! How did your first day go? Hope my dad wasn’t the grump he usually is.

I bury the snort about to leave my lips. If today was any indication, I’m not sure calling her dad a grump would be sufficient. A self-absorbed prick or a calloused dickface might be more like it.

A beautiful dickface, but a dickface, nonetheless.

But there’s no way I can tell her that after she went out of her way to secure me this job. I practically bypassed the HR formalities because of her, and now have a monthly paycheck that almost had me fainting when Belinda told me what I’d be making. With that kind of money, I could save up enough to cover Mom’s rent for a few months, take some of the burden off Neil, and pay a deposit for a new apartment in Portland.

I hate the idea of leaving Mom and Neil here on their own, and I wouldn’t have if there were jobs in my field available here, but my priority was taking care of them by any means possible. If that meant having a steady income while living in Portland, then it was what it was. Perhaps after Neil goes to college, Mom could move in with me. That’s my hope, anyway.

Picking up my phone, I chew on the inside corner of my lip as images of wintery blue eyes, thick wavy dark hair, and that ever-grinding jaw dance inside my vision. The man is an ass, but there’s no denying he’s a gorgeous ass.

Me

Not at all. You had me nervous when we spoke. He’s been nothing but kind and gracious.

Now that I’ve sent that message, I’m wondering if I laid it on a little too thick. What if she knows ‘nothing but kind and gracious’ is code for he’s a three-headed monster?

But I also remember the promise I made to her when we met for coffee—that she’d never hear a complaint from me—and I intend to keep it. There’s no way I’m telling her that not only did I sit there and cry well after Hudson left tonight, but I truly wondered if I should even come back.

That is, until I got home and was reminded that indeed, I had to go back, even if that meant being treated like the gum on the bottom of his Manolo Blahniks.

Madison

Okay, now I know you’re lying. No one has called my dad kind and gracious his entire life.

Dammit! I knew I went too far.

Panic rises inside me as I imagine Madison dialing her dad to find out the truth, and I quickly type out another message.

Me

I swear, he’s been great. We actually didn’t talk much but I can already tell I’ll learn a lot from him.

Hoping my answer softens her doubts, I watch the three dots jump around my screen before her response pops up.

Madison

Well, I’m glad to hear it. Just remember, it’s okay to put my dad in his place from time to time. Ask Belinda; it’s the only way to survive him sometimes. And let me know if he ever goes from gracious to grinch. I’m happy to help.

I react to her message with a heart before turning my phone over and digging into my food.

I’m just falling asleep—my eyes closing as if my lids were magnets—when I decide to make myself another promise. One I’m determined to keep.

That tomorrow will be a better day.

It has to be.

The guy sitting nextto me must be hard of hearing.

It’s the only explanation for why he would turn up the volume on his headphones to a level no human could endure without permanent damage to their eardrums. And now I’ll have Even Flow by Pearl Jam stuck on repeat inside my head all day.

I hold in a snort, knowing I’ll be telling Nathan about this tonight. Not that I care to give him another reason to assert that Pearl Jam is better than Nirvana—because they’re not. We’ve had this argument for years, and I stand by what I believe: Nirvana changed the shape, sound, and color of music as we know it today.

Trying to avoid the gaze of the disheveled, possibly homeless, woman in front of me, who’s been staring at me for the past thirty minutes, I turn my head to look out the window, watching the city speed by.

I had no intention of riding the subway to work today, but when the screeching in my car turned into more of a groan a mile out of my neighborhood, I decided to turn around and call an Uber to the station before hollering at my brother to drop it off at the shop. As it is, it would take me an hour to get into the office by car, and now it’ll be at least a half hour more.

An hour and a half later, I’m rushing out through the subway’s automatic doors, checking my watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

I’d emailed Belinda from the train, telling her I was running late, but even I have to admit it’s not a good look on my second day.

With my umbrella barely doing much to shield me from the onslaught of rain, I skirt past pedestrians and try to dodge as many puddles as possible. But not before mud splatters over my boots and the fishnet stockings I’d worn under my emerald-green, mid-length skirt.

Great. Just fucking great.

I was so proud of myself for putting this outfit together today, too, having gotten this skirt delivered, along with a few other pieces from an online consignment store yesterday.

Folding my umbrella at the entrance of the enormous Case Geo building, I enter, debating between cleaning up inside a restroom or showing up to the office looking like I just came out of a mud bath.

Settling on the latter, and hoping no one looks below my waist, I pat down my hair, tucking a few wet, wayward strands behind my ear inside the elevator. Rolling my shoulders back, I assess my reflection on the elevator doors, reassuring myself that it’s highly possible that Mr. Case isn’t even here yet.

I mean, there’s practically a torrential downpour out there. It’s perfectly reasonable for people to be late with this kind of inclement weather.

Thanking my lucky stars when I find a quiet and conspicuously empty front entrance to Mr. Case’s office—with not even Belinda at her desk—I hang my raincoat on the metal tree behind her desk and place my umbrella inside a bin.

I’m just bent over on her chair, wiping off the mud from my Docs with a tissue, when movement in the large conference room in front of me catches my attention.

Without rising, I look toward the room, full of at least twelve people dressed in suits. I hadn’t seen them when I’d entered, but looking closely, I now notice the back of Belinda’s head, her brown hair slightly flipped at the ends above her shoulders.

But it’s when I continue past her head and catch the ice-cold, stormy-blue eyes staring back at me that sheer panic settles in. A part of me wonders if I can tumble off the chair inconspicuously enough and roll under the desk to spend the rest of my day there, before the other part of me decides to follow his glare . . . looking down at my chest.

My very uncovered chest, where the tops of my breasts—swaying inside my lacy cream bra—are on display beneath my gaping V-neck, gray tank top.

I quickly rise, adjusting my shirt and throwing away the muddy tissue, when Belinda exits the conference room, her humorless expression homing in on me. “Hey, Kavi, Hudson wants you to join the meeting since you’ll be taking over a few key presentations with some of our clients once I’m on leave.”

“Oh, um, sure!” I gather up a notebook and pen, rising from my seat and following her. “I’m . . . I’m sorry I was late. Did you get my email?”

“Yes, but let’s discuss that later.” She reaches for the conference door, speaking over her shoulder. “Just so you’re aware, we’re going around the table with our own executive team on some open items and deal blockers.”

I nod before stepping inside, and I swear, I can feel a shift in the temperature, though it has nothing to do with how hot or cold it is in here. My eyes—the double-crossing bitches they are—find those same blue-gray ones across the table before I make my way to the open seat next to Belinda.

“Thank you for joining us, Ms. Jain.” Mr. Case’s head tilts up as he examines me like one would a diseased carcass. “How wonderful that you had the luxury of sleeping in today while the rest of us got up on time since we have to worry about these pesky things called responsibilities and professionalism.”

My cheeks heat—no, they catch fire—feeling the side glances from everyone around me. My eyes drop to my lap, burning with unshed tears. “I’m . . . I apologize for—”

“Spare us the theatrics, Ms. Jain, and let me make it crystal clear, in case you still haven’t woken up.” His nostrils flare and his eyes flick from my chest to my eyes so quickly, I swear I’ve imagined it. “There are few things I despise more than tardiness and accountability. If you can’t be here on time on a daily basis, then please see yourself out and find a different workplace where the staff rolls in with unprofessional attire and muddy shoes.” Then, as if he hadn’t just publicly humiliated me, he looks to someone still standing at the front, near the projection screen. “Caleb, please continue.”

The tops of my ears burn and my chest constricts as I keep my eyes glued to my lap while shame buries itself inside my cheeks. And despite my trembling bottom lip and the rage crawling up my throat, I repeat the same words in a loop in my head, I will not cry.

I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I’ve been through a lot worse.

I’m only shaken from my silent trance when Belinda’s hand grasps mine under the table. She squeezes it before her steely eyes connect with Mr. Case’s across from us. He looks from her to me, and for a fleeting moment, that same softness I saw once before—if only for a millisecond then two, when I’d dropped the glass of ice water on his lap—appears in his expression once more.

But this time it’s me who disconnects our gaze, turning my head to face the front with barely held disdain. My eyes feel like stones inside their sockets while I focus on the release of each of my breaths.

Because fuck him!

Yes, I messed up at the restaurant. I was a nervous wreck on my first day, having unfairly been assigned to a table even the experienced staff didn’t want. Yes, I not only accidentally lobbed a fucking cork at his forehead, I also spilled water on his lap and then made a fool of myself trying to wipe it up. And yes, I came in late today.

None of those things were done intentionally, but are any of them big enough offenses to spew vitriol and treat someone like absolute shit?

He already had me fired from my first job. If he didn’t want me working here, then why not fire me on the very first day? Why belittle me in such a way, in front of everyone, that if I was even going to have the slightest amount of compassion for his viewpoint, I no longer do?

Because I fucking no longer do.

He’s just another heartless, thoughtless—and probably dickless—rich bastard who thinks he can treat people like shit, like all the other useless ones I’ve met in my life.

I hope all his whites turn pink in the wash.

Barely hearing most of the presentation over the screaming inside my head, I shuffle out of the room as soon as the meeting ends, heading back to Belinda’s desk without so much as another glance at him.

Closing my eyes momentarily before taking in a wobbly breath, I remind myself once again what I’ve said many times throughout my life: No one can make me feel small and shitty without my consent.