17. Sal
Seventeen
Sal
In his bedroom, Cole is on the floor on his hands and knees, trying to say something.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, kneeling down beside him, trying to assess the situation.
“I don’t have any money.”
His head bobs up and down and his eyes shift in and out of focus.
“Are you alright?”
My question causes him to frown. “My wallet… it’s in my jacket.”
Bracing his head with both hands, I catch him before he nosedives and I lift him in my arms.
Gently, I ease him onto the bed. Lifting the twisted covers, I tuck him in and search for medicine. After locating some meds I give them to him with a bottle of water.
The nonsense about his wallet has stopped and his eyes flutter closed.
The phone on the nightstand starts buzzing. I check and see it says “Tony.”
Pulling out my phone I write up a text for his friend.
Me: I think he’s really ill.
It’s like a split second when my phone pings.
Anthony: Can you look after him?
Annoyance pricks my chest. Not because I don’t want to take care of him. But I shouldn’t. It’s wrong. I definitely wouldn’t do this for any other employee.
I look over Cole. He looks miserable. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he shivers, eyes squeezed shut.
Me: that’s highly inappropriate
Bubbles appear then disappear.
Eventually another text comes through.
Anthony: fine. I can take the day away.
I sigh.
Me: no, it’s okay. If anyone needs me, tell them to leave me a message.
Anthony: Thanks boss man
Ugh.
I could do a call and go back to the office and listen to Cole from the other end… or have Anthony come here and watch over him.
And then I’d be riddled with anxiety all day, accomplish no work and then try to come up with an excuse to his friend as to why I’m checking on him after hours.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I remove my shoes and place them by the door.
I spend the next hour cleaning his puke bowl by his beside, fixing up some toast for him and trying to get him to take a bite with no success and make myself some coffee.
Cole is sound asleep with a rag on his forehead when my phone rings.
I don’t recognize the number and take my coffee to the patio.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Salvatore.”
My father. I’m not even surprised he has my cell. With his money and connections I wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow managed to pull my bank records and the camera footage from my building.
“Hi.”
I watch the cars zip around the city below wishing I was anyone one of them at this moment.
“So, let’s get this party planned.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
“The big LGBTQ+ gala…”
My father is planning it?!
“Yes. I’ve heard great things about your company.”
I’m ready to argue that it’s a conflict of interest… until I realize that he’s a paying customer…
“The owner said you’ve assembled the best team to tackle all of my concerns.”
“Yes,” I mutter. “The best of the best will be working on it.”
“Excellent. I’d like to meet Friday.”
My heart sinks. The first time I’m going to see him after so long is at the office? Why am I surprised he’s eager to dive into business matters first?
“How about you come into the office at 10 am and we’ll go over the basics once I’ve chatted things over with the team.”
Old habits die hard. Instead of telling him to fuck off, I go along with it.
“Perfect.”
Is he canceling the dinner plans Saturday?
“And we’re still on for dinner over the weekend?”
I want to tell him no, that I can’t handle his antics in both areas of life. But he’s going to bring in so much in bonuses for my employees and revenue for the business in general.
“Yes.”
“Excellent, don’t forget your date. I’m eager to meet him.”
I end the call and turn back to the apartment. I chuck it inside and across the room. It smashes into the ground and slides across the flooring, skipping and slamming into the wall.
God, what I wouldn’t give to take this frustration out in a better way…
I shut down those thoughts, take in a deep breath and wish the lovely view could solve all my problems.
Not only is Cole sick, but my father is about to meet him professionally, then realize he’s also something more.
Fuck.