31. Sienna
31
SIENNA
W e have been on his tail for hours now, sitting in this parking lot patiently, and so far there was absolutely nothing suspicious about him, other than the fact that he doesn’t seem to tip. But then again, that appears to be perfectly in line with the kind of person he is.
Right now he is in some sort of private club having dinner and we can’t get eyes on him.
“Why not?” Robyn asks impatiently.
Earnest closes his laptop with a sigh. “Because it’s not how this works. Given more time, sure, I could probably get us into their system, but I can’t just press some buttons on here and access those cameras.”
“Angry-Amish-Man,” she huffs. “More like Amateurish-Amish-Man.”
Earnest eyes grow small, but I shut them down before their little quarrel can escalate. “Be nice. Both of you. We already have enough trouble. The last thing we need is to fight amongst ourselves.”
All four of my friends grumble at the same time. I sigh and lean back in my seat.
There has to be a better way.
Guy and Paige suddenly sit up straight and start pointing outside. “What the—” both whisper simultaneously.
When I see my boyfriend step out of the building and hold the door for Dicky, I chime right in.
What the hell is he doing here?
Why would he be meeting Richard Dome?
We watch as Dicky lights a cigar and takes a deep drag before handing it off to Ryker.
“Earnest,” I say, but he’s already on his laptop again.
A few moments later, he’s playing the audio from Ryker’s phone on the speakers of his laptop. It’s a little muffled, but I can clearly make out Ryker’s voice. It’s him alright.
“Well, you won’t regret it.” Dicky lights another cigar, takes a deep drag and pats Ryker on his shoulder. “I know it’s none of my business, but is there a reason you’re so invested in this property?” Both laugh at his terrible pun.
“Invested?” Guy asks and is swiftly shushed by the rest of the car.
“Well, it’s a long story. Let’s just say I need it in order to settle an old score with an old… flame.”
Dicky grunts with acknowledgment. “That’s a pretty penny to pay, just to settle an old score.”
Ryker takes another drag and lets the back of his hand glide along his jawline. “Some things are more important than money. I’m sure you understand.”
“Hm,” it echoes through the speakers, “I once paid a guy to destroy a priceless Van Gogh that my ex-wife owned just because it was her favorite painting, so, yeah, I understand, son. And, by the way, if you happen to know any eligible broads, by which I mean D-cup and up, do send them my way. Little Richard might consider settling down soon. Gotta enjoy all that additional money I just made.”
Ryker looks down to the ground and nods.
“What the fuck is happening here?” I say, still confused, or rather not wanting to believe my own eyes and ears.
“Did you cheat on him?” Robyn asks with a straight face.
I don’t even know how to answer that.
“Because it looks like he just bought Haven in order to get back at someone. ”
“There has got to be an explanation.” I reach for the door handle and am about to open it when Robyn and Earnest both push me back into my seat. “I just need to talk to him. Something is… why would he do that?”
“How did you two meet again?” Paige asks while rubbing her forehead.
I look at her, then back out to Ryker, who is leaning over a railing, flicking the ash onto the ground.
“But… he wouldn’t.”
Earnest pats my shoulder clumsily. “Maybe, but evidence suggests otherwise.”
“But I’m sure there is a good explanation,” I say, slowly beginning to doubt myself.
Dicky can be heard over the speaker again, “And you haven’t decided yet what you’re going to do with it?”
Ryker shakes his head. “For now, I might just proceed with your plan. Clear the place out. Especially one person. The rest I will let my people figure out.”
“Son of a…” I get up and reach for the door again, ready to show him what I think of this plan.
How could I have been so wrong about him?
Was all that happened between us just an elaborate way to get back at me for stealing his fucking pants?
Tears form in my eyes as all four of my friends keep me from storming out there and giving those two a piece of my mind.
“Think about it,” Robyn finally breaks through to me. “You have to be smart right now. Screaming at him won’t help anyone here. Think about rule #3. Maybe we can still use your relationship with him to our advantage.”
“And besides,” Guy adds, “you should never make any decisions when this angry. Not even deciding to physically assault someone.”
“Especially not physically assaulting someone,” Paige adds.
I wipe my tears away and look at the four wrinkled faces in front of me. They’re right, of course. We will have to be smart about this. Blackmailing Ryker should be a lot easier than Dicky. I just still can’t believe he would do this.
Taking a deep breath, I try to clear my mind. “Now what?”
“Now we go home,” Paige says and nods for Guy to go back to his driver's seat. “First we sleep, then we eat, then we probably take another nap, and then we make a plan to take our home back from Ryker Fucking Grayson.”
My hope that I was wrong about Ryker dies when I find myself locked out of the office building the next day. I went in to work thinking that maybe there was a chance this was all a misunderstanding, and that we could just talk about it like grown-ups, but when I try to use my keycard to pass the gates at the entrance, I am denied access. I don’t even try talking to the security guards. I know what’s up.
My calls last night already went straight to voicemail, and I suspect he must have blocked my number. I feel like an idiot for letting myself get fooled like this.
How could I have been so na?ve?
Feeling dejected and surprisingly hurt, I turn around and decide to go back home. The O-Team is probably already scheming and, for once, I fully support what they’re doing.
Ryker
After signing the deal with Richard, I went back to the office, had Sienna thrown out of our system, and, most importantly, had IT make sure that her shitty blog would be gone forever. They were adamant about not being able to actually delete all of it entirely, but I guess now that I know who is behind this, it will be easy enough to take legal action if this site should pop up under a different domain again. Maybe I should take legal action either way.
I spend all day locked up in my office, getting angrier and angrier, first with myself, then with Sienna, then with the fucking universe. Legal brought in some paperwork that now makes me the official owner of Haven Lifespace Community. Buying the whole thing didn’t take nearly as much convincing as I had assumed. Dicky was happy to sell it to the first bidder, since he needed some cash to buy himself a bigger yacht. I had initially set the appointment to buy the whole thing for Sienna and her friends, but I guess now I will have to think of other options.
By late afternoon, I have pondered over what to do next for the thousandth time and I am still undecided. As it stands now, I have several options:
Option #1: Do as I said, stick to Dicky’s plan and get rid of all inhabitants. It’s probably what my business analysts will recommend anyway. I could rebuild it into gigantic office buildings or upscale apartments and in the long term turn a decent profit.
Option #2: Do nothing. Be the bigger man. Move on. Who cares?
Well, I do. I fucking do. And I will not let her get away with this. Again. Being too nice is how I ended up like this in the first place.
Option #3: Follow my initial plan of getting back at Sienna. Kick her out of the building complex but allow everyone else to stay. She’d be sad about getting split up from her friends. Olivia would take care of her in any case, but at least it would be some kind of retribution.
Option #4: Kidnap Sienna, lock her up in some basement, steal all her pants, and then…
“No, no,” Miles warns preemptively when I sit down in the passenger seat next to him that evening. “I know that face and: No! Not in my car!”
“This is my car,” I grunt, and buckle in.
“Irrelevant. You’re not having more kimchi in here, especially not the extra potent stuff. I didn’t do anything this time.”
“Kimchi is life, you ignorant philistine. But you’re in luck. I am not angry at you.”
“Oh, good.” He frowns. “Then why the face? She dump you? What did you do?”
“Why the fuck would you assume I did anything?”
The car begins to move, and we are on our drive back home.
“The nickname ‘Ryker the Recluse’ doesn’t come from nowhere. You push people away as soon as they get close to you. Scratch that. You push them away before they can get close to you.”
“First of all, no one calls me that. And secondly, unfortunately, not true.” I motion at him. “Exhibit A is sitting right next to me.” Then I let my head fall back against the headrest and look out the window. The sky is a nice orange hue hinting at warmer days ahead. Better days where I won’t feel like someone scooped out my insides with a fucking melon baller.
“I mean, for fuck’s sake,” he jolts me out of my depressing daydreams, “she was obsessed with you. I literally saw her steal a picture of your smug face from your wall. Who does something like that, unless they’re seriously smitten? And you know what? I think you are too. So you need to talk. Talk it out. If I have learned anything from all the books that I read while I wait for you in here, it’s that almost any problem can be solved with proper communication. Unless she wanted to take revenge on you for stealing her magic powers and therefore banged your step dadd?—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I try to interrupt him, but it only takes a second before he goes on about me and my defunct relationships and how it’s apparently time to finally grow up.
Almost any problem can be solved with proper communication.
I try to tune him out. I just want to sit down in my grandma’s rocking chair, embroider some handkerchiefs, and be left the fuck alone. Unfortunately, his words keep repeating in my mind. I recline my seat and close my eyes. Rays of sun intermittently shine through the tall buildings lining the horizon.
Fuck.
I don’t open my eyes until the car finally comes to a halt.
“Turn around,” I command, and sit straight up. “I need to go scream at her.”
“Talk to her. You need to go talk to her,” Miles says with insistence. “But good, because we’re already here.”
I rub my eyes and look outside. The weathered facade of Haven hovers over us.
“I should fire you.”
“And when you say ‘fire’ , you mean raise my salary by another 10%, right?”
I grunt, grab my briefcase, step out, and throw the door shut. My (already overpaid) driver peels out of the driveway with squealing tires.
When I think about Sienna being inside, dreaming up fantastical stories, and, for whatever fucked up reason, publishing them on the internet to hurt me or my career, a shudder runs down my back, and my resolution to speak with her weakens. I walk over to the little seating area that is surrounded by a few trees and shrubs. No one is there and the only noise I hear is from the cars down the block. A candy wrapper is lying next to a bench.
Maybe she had a good reason for doing what she did?
I slap myself, pick up the wrapper, and throw it into the trash can.
There are no good reasons for what she did. None.
I sit down and watch my feet bob up and down impatiently.
Even if talking can’t solve this problem, maybe at least it can explain things.
I get up again and pace over to a table with an integrated chess board where I find a few cigarette butts that I also gather and throw away.
What’s the worst that could happen?
I pace back and forth between the trees.
She could confirm what I was worried about all along.
That she, too, just used me.
Betrayed me.
Like everyone else.
I find an old newspaper, bend down and pick it up. When I get back up, I knock my head on something hard. I stumble a little and promptly hit my head again. The last thing I see is the grass coming closer as everything goes dark.