Chapter Twelve
Eryx
My knuckles went white as I gripped the steering wheel with more force than necessary on the drive back to Oliver Creek. I was thankful for the distance between who I had been and who I was becoming, both physical and mental.
Along the way, I put the windows down, letting the cool autumn air chill me out while the loud music gave me an outlet to be loud with my voice.
I’d wanted to be loud with my father, but after the first couple of words came out, I knew they would fall on deaf ears. So I stopped mid-sentence and left for the last time. No more defending my choices outside to my father more than I ever had in a courtroom.
He didn’t waste any time telling me that I’d never succeed. That I’d be back in months, a year or two if I was lucky. I’d be begging for my job back. Broke and hopeless. Helpless.
A failure.
My father wore a smile the whole time he was talking. Like my eventual ridicule and defeat were entertainment for him. A joy.
What kind of person took pleasure in seeing and expecting failure from their children?
How had I ever thought that emulating him would be fulfilling?
I’d been such a fool.
“Goodbye, Dad. I might fail. I might. But if I do, I’ll never come back here. Not to you to grovel. Not for my job back. Not for anything in the world. But at least I’ll have my self-worth intact. I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror and not cringe at what I see.”
He didn’t speak a word after that. I left and told them if there was anything else, they would have to use email or a phone call to get it done.
While I was gone, Joaquin kept me updated on how things were going. I needed to pay him more. He had become somewhat of a project manager. Letting people in and out. Giving me updates.
From what Joaquin had told me, things were going well and I was ahead of schedule. That meant I could open sooner and have less of a drain on my savings. If possible, I would’ve liked to have some kind of nest egg left before the theater started making money.
My phone rang and it was Joaquin. My stomach fluttered with excitement. I was only a few minutes away from the theater and while I was more than eager to see the developments, I really wanted to see him.
He’d been on my mind the whole time. Distracting me from meetings. My thoughts wandered to him more times than it did the theater.
“You’re here,” he said, greeting me out the back door. He had on painter’s coveralls and they were covered in splotches of paint in all kinds of colors. They must’ve been spots from his previous jobs. My walls were to be painted great colors but not the brightest in the rainbow.
“I’m here.” I walked over and every cell in my body wanted to reach out and hug him. My arms went wide but I pulled them back down.
We stood there for a moment and let the moment pass. A flash of emotion passed through his eyes. Regret? Did he want me to hug him? I wanted to.
Damn it. This was hard.
“Do you want to see the progress?” he asked.
I held the door open for him, and he passed through first, his hip brushing against mine. “I do. What do you want to show me first? The paint?”
Joaquin cleared his throat. “Oh, um, let’s save that for last. The seats were recovered. They brought a whole crew. It got done in five days. One theater per day. It was crazy business.”
We made our way to the first theater, and I was immediately taken aback.
I’d given the upholstery company a bit of leeway but told them I wanted the seats recovered to their former glory, and clearly they took that very seriously.
The seats were covered in burgundy velvet. I ran my hand over one and found the fabric soft and just a bit fuzzy.
“I should take a picture,” I said, laughing.
“Why? They’re not going anywhere. I watched the crew screw them in tight.”
“Because I doubt they will look like this for long. Popcorn. Nachos. Hot dogs. Drinks. Gum. Candy. All bound to leave their marks.”
Joaquin sighed beside me. “You’re right. Oh, man. The nacho cheese.” He shook his head, imagining the mess as I was. Still, without messes and concessions, there was no theater and not very much revenue either.
“Where should we go next?” I asked. Joaquin was in charge now, and it sent a shudder through me. I wondered if he liked to be in charge all the time.
Goddess, no. I had no business having sexy thoughts about this man. He was helping me. Period.
The fact didn’t make me stop wanting him to be more.
“Well, I’d like to show you the lobby but I have to warn you, I took some liberty with the colors and…you’ll have to see it.”
His smell went stale, flat. I didn’t know Joaquin well enough to know what it meant, but it made me nervous to see how he determined what painting liberty meant. I couldn’t afford to have too many things go wrong.
“Lead the way,” I managed to choke out and sent a prayer to the goddess.
When we arrived in the lobby, I stopped dead in my tracks.