Keeping Denver

‘Miss Hollis!’ Mr. Hawk yells from his office Monday afternoon. Not only did I get little to no sleep last night, but Mr. Hawk is especially grumpy today. So, you can imagine my ill mood, pared with his, was a cause for our constant head butting. Mine from the disastrous weekend, and being swindled out of my hard-earned money and his probably due to the fact he is working diligently on the Dennis case while preparing for court on another. We did get a bit of good news this morning. The judge granted Mrs. Dennis child support. He also ordered her soon to be ex-husband to pay two months back child support.

Getting out of my seat, I make my way to the open doorway of Mr. Hawk’s office. ‘Sir?’

He looks up from a stack of papers on his desk, his green eyes narrow to slits. ‘Where are the medical reports on the Braxton case? I told you this morning to put them on my desk.’

The Braxton case has been a tough one. It turns out, Mrs. Braxton had been a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of her husband through the course of their marriage. She was smart enough to keep medical records every time she visited the ER. Those records will be vital when the case goes to court. I happened to take a peek at the files before placing them on Mr. Hawk’s desk. My heart aches for what Mrs. Braxton has gone through. I hope Mr. Hawk buries her husband in court, although hell would be a better punishment.

‘Yes, Sir. I put it on your desk first thing this morning.’

He shuffles through the papers on his desk. ‘It’s not here.’

Sighing, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying not to say something I’ll regret. I’ve gotten used to my boss being a prickly asshole, but he’s seriously testing my limits today. Walking across his office, I stop in front of his desk, lean over, and pick up the report, which was right in front of him. When I cast my eyes up, I find Mr. Hawk’s trained on my chest. The top button on my blouse got snagged on my coat this morning and popped off. I meant to find a safety pin to hold the top in place. And right now, my boss is getting a good look at my generous cleavage. My skin tingles, and my nipples harden to pebbles under his heated appraisal of my breasts. There is no denying the effect the man is having on my body. A growl vibrates within Mr. Hawk’s chest when his eyes shift to the hard peaks showing through the material of my top.

‘Here you go, ‘ I say, my throat tight with lust.

When Mr. Hawk finally rips his gaze away from my breasts and up to my face, I decide it is time to abort. Without another word, I turn on my heel and scurry back to my desk.

I spend the next thirty minutes analyzing what just happened between the two of us, and concluded Mr. Hawk is like any other man—momentarily boob drunk.

After delivering some paperwork to Frances down the hall, I’m met by a tall man standing at my desk with his back to me. ‘Can I help you?’

He turns, and I am met by the second most devastatingly handsome man I have ever seen. This guy stands well over six feet, has red hair, grey eyes, and a few days’ worth of stubble on his face. The man doesn’t hide the way his eyes rake up and down my body. I don’t know why he’s bothering to look. I’m wearing one of the outfits I got from the donation bin at the shelter. Today my attire consists of a pair of brown slacks and a boxy cream color button-up blouse that is about two sizes too big aside from the boob area. I wasn’t lying when I said the clothes were outdated. I’m wearing something straight from the eighties. My hair is pulled back in its usual braid and there isn’t a stitch of makeup on my face. You would think by the panty-melting grin taking over the stranger’s face, I was his dessert.

‘You must be Denver?’

I recognize the voice instantly. This is the guy I spoke to my first week here, the one, my boss accused me of flirting with.

‘I am. And you’re Spencer Knight,’ I address him in a bored tone since he told Mr. Hawk I was flirting with him. I’m tempted to say go to hell, but don’t want to risk losing my job.

‘That I am, sweetheart.’

‘Mr. Hawk is in his office. You can go on in.’

‘How about I stay here and visit with you, sweet Denver,’ Spencer says as he perches himself on the edge of my desk, making me glare up at him.

‘With all due respect Mr. Knight, I have work to do. I also don’t need my boss accusing me of flirting with you again.’

Spencer goes to open his mouth again at the same moment Mr. Hawk makes an appearance. ‘Spencer!’ he barks. ‘It would be in your best interest to step away from my assistant’s desk,’ he warns, emphasizing the word my, causing my skin to tingle. It’s clear these two men are friends rather than business acquaintances. It’s also obvious Spencer is getting a kick out of pushing Mr. Hawk’s buttons.

‘Hey, Callan. I just thought I would get to know Denver better.’ Spencer stands and strolls toward his friend. ‘I have to say, Callan. I can see why your nuts are all tied up over the lovely Miss Hollis.’

‘Fuck off, Spenc,’ is the last thing that comes from Mr. Hawk’s mouth before the two men disappear inside his office and I’m left wondering what Spencer meant by his comment to my boss.

The rest of the workday goes by without incident. Spencer was here about an hour, and as he left, tossed me a wink over his shoulder. I found I couldn’t stay mad at the man, and waved. He’s a lot like Lucas in the way he’s a hopeless flirt.

It’s four o’clock, so I begin shutting down my computer just as Frances strolls down the hall from her office with Kelly trailing behind. ‘Hi, Frances.’

‘Hello, dear. You knocking off?’

‘Yep. You on your way out too?’

‘I am. You want to walk down with me?’

‘Yeah. Let me grab my coat, and I’ll go with you,’ I smile.

‘I’m going to need you to stay late, Miss Hollis,’ Mr. Hawk’s gruff voice rings over my shoulder and I turn to face him.

‘What?’

‘Mrs. Dennis was unable to take off work to make her two o’clock appointment. I told her she could come in at five.’

This was not news to me. I had taken Mrs. Dennis’s call this morning, and Mr. Hawk agreed to let her come in after hours, although there was no talk of me having to be here too.

‘You didn’t mention earlier I was required to stay past four.’

‘I’m telling you now, Miss Hollis.’

‘I…I can’t stay, Mr. Hawk.’

‘Why the hell not? Your job is to assist me. Therefore, you work when I tell you.’

What am I supposed to say? I need to leave by four, so I can get a bed at the shelter before they are all taken. Shoot, Denver. Think.

Kelly perks up. ‘I can stay with you, Mr. Hawk.’

Frances must sense my distress and tries to help. ‘There you go, Callan. Kelly has volunteered. That was nice of you to step in for, Denver.’

Kelly didn’t offer as a favor to me. She suggested that because she’s desperate for Mr. Hawk’s attention.

‘No. Kelly, you and Frances may go. Miss Hollis will stay and do her job,’ Mr. Hawk states, making his decision final.

Having moved the meeting with Mrs. Dennis to the conference room, so we had more space to go over all the documents for her upcoming court case, I sit in my chair, my leg bouncing with nervousness as I continually eye the clock on the wall. Mr. Hawk shoots me a look, but I ignore him. I don’t understand why he pushed to have me here. Not once has he asked me to stay late. And now because he’s decided to be a jerk, I’m most likely spending the night on the street. It’s a quarter to seven and there is no hope of me getting a bed at the shelter.

On top of that, it started snowing an hour ago. The snow always draws in more people looking for a warm place to shelter from the dropping temperatures. I’ve braved sleeping outside on many occasions in the last six months, but never in this kind of weather.

‘Mrs. Dennis.’ My boss stands. ‘I think we have all we need for court next week.’

‘You think what we have will be enough?’

‘I know we do. I promise your husband won’t be able to squeak by without having to pay.’

Mrs. Dennis shakes Mr. Hawk’s hand and offers me the same. I accept while offering a polite smile.

‘Miss Hollis. Gather everything here and put it on my desk while I walk Mrs. Dennis out.’

Nodding, I go about clearing the table as quickly as I can and take it to his office. By the time Mr. Hawk returns, I have completed the only task he asked of me this evening. I’m in hysterics and pissed as hell as I go to gather my things to leave. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

‘No,’ I snap, tugging my coat on, my hands shaking.

‘Is there a problem, Miss Hollis?’

‘Yes. The problem is you making me stay late for nothing. There was no point in me being here, Mr. Hawk,’ I say through clenched teeth. ‘And without notice.’ At this point, I can’t hold back the choking sound that comes out at the end of my last statement.

‘What’s the matter, Miss Hollis? Did I make you miss a date with that prick Lucas or something?’ The question falls out of Mr. Hawk’s mouth with venom. I don’t bother wasting my breath on a reply, and walk away.

When I exit the building, Mr. Hawk is right behind me. In front of us parked on the curb is his car with the driver waiting at the back door. ‘Come on, Denver. I’ll take you home.’

‘No. I don’t need anything from you.’

‘Will you stop being pissy with me long enough to accept a damn ride?’ I don’t turn around, and I don’t accept his invitation.

‘Denver!’ Callan calls out at my retreating back. ‘Get back here and get in the fucking car!’

I keep going until I round the corner at the end of the block. Only then do I allow the tears to fall. I should have swallowed my pride and accepted the ride, but that would require me outing myself and the secret I don’t want him to know. Pride is an admirable trait, but it can also be a person’s downfall, and I suspect it will one day cost me more than I can imagine.

As expected, when I arrive at the shelter, there is no room for me. Not knowing what to do, I wonder about a block from the shelter until I spot an alleyway between a dry cleaner and a liquor store. About twenty feet into the alley is a dumpster, and beside the dumpster is a pile of old cardboard boxes. There is a small awning above where the cardboard lays that will do little to protect me from the snow when I sit on them. I need to find somewhere else to stay. There is a bridge on 42^nd street, two blocks from here where the homeless gather. Perhaps I should make my way there for the night. The walk from work in the cold has taken its toll on me. I need to rest my feet a minute. They’re throbbing and starting to go numb since I am not wearing socks or stockings.

After awhile, my body becomes tired and sluggish, so I decide to rest here a little longer. Huddled beside the dumpster, I prop myself against the brick wall behind me. With shaky hands, I dig through my bag, finding my wallet, then sift through what money I have, only producing fifty-seven dollars and some change, not enough for a hotel room. Stuffing my money back into the bag, I hug it against my chest as my sobs wrack my body. I have never felt so hopeless or as close to giving up in my life as I do at this moment. I should have taken the ride from Callan. I should have reached out for help instead of letting my pride get in the way. When you spend your entire life depending on nobody but yourself, asking for help becomes difficult. And with asking for help comes embarrassment and judgment that sometimes comes with the stigma surrounding homelessness.

Drawing my legs up to my chest, I lay on my side and tuck into myself as best I can. I’m going to rest for a moment longer. Then I’m going to get moving. The numbing cold is starting to become unbearable, so I do the only thing I know to do…count. Using my coping mechanism, I start at three thousand and count backward, my teeth chattering. ‘Two thousand nine hundred ninety-nine. Two thousand nine hundred ninety-eight.’ I lose count several times, and start over. My counting does little to help keep my mind off of the fact that the temperature is beginning to fall. Eventually, my words slur, my mind becomes a haze and my eyes grow heavy. Time around me seems to stop as I start to doze off to sleep. Faintly hearing the voices of two men, I try with all the strength I can muster to open my eyes but fail. Then the voices become closer.

‘Hey, Ricky. Look what we got over here.’

‘What is it, Henry?’

‘Hey. Hey, there,’ someone nudges me.

‘What you got there, girl.’ I feel a tug on the bag clutched to my chest, and let out a groan as I try to keep hold of it, only my attempt is fruitless, and my backpack is ripped from my hands.

‘She sure is a pretty little thing, isn’t she Ricky?’ I feel cold fingertips brush the side of my cheek.

‘Come on, Henry. Let’s take her bag and go before someone sees us.’

I faintly hear a sigh, before the detached voice replies, ‘You’re right. Let’s go.’ The sound of shuffling feet and shoes crunching on freshly fallen snow echo as the two voices retreat. My eyes open to slits to see two men walking out of the alley. ‘Stop,’ I croak, but the men keep moving, their silhouettes disappearing amongst the foggy haze forming around me. I go to get up, but my body fails to budge. I’m briefly aware of the thin layer of snow that is now covering my body and my cold, damp hair sticking to the side of my face.

CALLAN

Grinding my teeth, I watch as Denver walks away, and an uneasy feeling settles in my gut. Her sudden change in attitude and lashing out was not like her. Granted, she was right. I didn’t need her to stay. The fact is, I have this insane need to keep Denver close. That woman has gotten under my skin, and I am powerless to stop the overwhelming urge to want her and have her within arm’s reach at all times. It’s taken all my strength not to touch her, kiss her and fuck her against the wall of my office anytime she is in my presence. There is no logic to my choices. I’m selfish. I know Lucas has his sights set on Denver, which is why I stepped in and squashed his plans of asking her out. It’s also the sole reason I turned into a bigger asshole this afternoon, making her stay. The moment Denver insisted she couldn’t work late and had plans, I saw red. I became green with jealousy. But something about the way she handed me my ass and took off in tears doesn’t sit right with me. I never meant to upset her. Something else must be going on. And I’m going to find out what the hell that is.

Still standing in the cold, snow accumulating on the shoulders of my coat, I eye Mitch. For the past few moments, he has patiently stood by the car with a worried look on his face, his eyes trained on the now-empty street. ‘Find her.’ I climb into the back seat, slamming the door.

‘Yes, Sir.’ Mitch hurries around the front of the car and climbs into the driver’s seat. Checking for traffic, he does a U-turn and drives us in the direction Denver disappeared.

‘Fuck, she’s gone. Do you see any sign of her, Mitch?’ Mitch brings the car to crawl as I roll down the window.

‘No. Sir. I don’t see her.’

Taking my phone from my pocket, I pull up Denver’s contact and address information. I emailed her file to myself the day she started working. ‘Take me to 8279 West Chapel Rd,’ I tell Mitch.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up in front of a shitty apartment building in a shady rundown neighborhood. Anger bubbles inside at the thought of Denver living in a place like this.

Flinging the car door open, I take off in a jog up the steps of the apartment building with Mitch directly behind me. Mitch is a good man and has my back in case we run into any trouble. Ignoring the drunken men loitering in the hall, I make my way up to the third floor. As I reach apartment 59, I stop, lift my fist and pound on the door. Feeling impatient, I bang a little harder. This time a gruff male voice calls out from behind the door, and my already sour mood turns murderous. ‘Hold on a damn minute. I’m comin’.’ The door bursts open. A plump man with greasy hair and a cigarette hanging from his mouth stands before us. ‘What the hell do you want?’

‘I’m looking for Denver.’

‘Who the hell is Denver?’ the guy mumbles, and I watch cigarette ashes fall down the front of his shirt.

‘The young woman who lives here, ‘ I growl, taking a step forward, ready to beat the stranger’s face in.

‘Look, asshole. There ain’t no Denver living here.’

I take a step further into the man’s face. ‘You sure?’

The man cranes his head to look at me. ‘I’d know if I had some bitch named Denver living here.’ The second the word ‘bitch’ leaves the guy’s mouth, I lunge. Mitch stops me.

‘He’s not worth it, boss.’

‘You’d better listen to your buddy, pretty boy. Ain’t no piece of ass worth you getting your ass handed to you,’ the fucker smirks. My fist makes direct contact with his nose, crunching against my knuckles. His sorry ass teeters on his heels, the smug smile wiped from his face, as I watch his body slump to the floor.

‘Let’s get out of here, boss. Before someone calls the law.’ I let Mitch pull me away. As soon as we’re inside the car, he peers in the rearview mirror. ‘We’ll find her.’

We drive around for hours, searching for any signs of Denver. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, and snow is falling heavily. Where the hell did she go? Furthermore, I don’t understand why she would falsify her contact information. I start to worry she’s in some kind of trouble. An ex maybe? Would she be hiding from a man? Perhaps she’s been in trouble with the law? I know every scenario running through my head aren’t good ones, but they are the only thoughts that come to mind. Keeping my eyes trained out the window, I keep searching, hoping we will find a clue to her whereabouts.

Two men exiting an alleyway catch my attention, and I follow them for a moment. Something reflective catches the streetlight on the object one of the men is carrying in his hand. It causes me to look closer. Wait a minute. I recognize the heart-shaped keychain attached to the bag. ‘Stop the fucking car,’ I shout, throwing the door open. ‘Hey,’ I yell at the men ahead of me as I barrel through the slush and snow toward them. ‘Hey, you!’ The man with the bag in his hand takes off running, and I give chase. I tackle the other man to the ground, as the one I was after disappears around the corner.

‘What the fuck, man. Get the hell off of me.’

‘Where the fuck did your buddy get that backpack?’ Gripping his jacket, I give him a shake.

‘Screw you,’ he spews. I hear Mitch roll the car up beside me, and the door opens.

‘Need me to call the police?’ Mitch asks.

‘No, no, no.’ The man in my grasp squirms. ‘No cops.’

I look down at him. ‘Where did your friend get the bag?’ I ask him one final time.

‘We took it off some redheaded homeless bitch in the alley over there,’ he points, and I follow where he directs us. Denver? Letting him go, I get to my feet. Wasting no more of my time on the piece of shit, I sprint down the sidewalk, cutting into the alley. Straining my eyes to see in the dark, I finally spot an outline of what looks like a person, huddled between a dumpster and the building wall. As I approach, I make out her long red hair.

‘Shit.’ My heart catches in my throat.

DENVER

Suddenly, I hear tires screeching and the thud, thud, thud of shoes hitting pavement until the sound of heavy breathing hovers directly above my cold body, followed by a string of curse words. ‘Fucking motherfucker.’

I know that voice.

Next, a pair of strong hands reach beneath me, and lift my body from the ground. I find warmth as my cheek rests against something soft yet hard. I recognize that smell too. And when my cold nose nuzzles against a warm neck, I inhale. I get lost in the familiar scent and my nerves instantly calm, feeling safe.

‘Is she alright, Mr. Hawk? You want to take her to the hospital?’

‘No. Take us home, Mitch. Call Dr. Morgan. Tell him to meet us at my Penthouse.’

At the slam of a car door, I tip my head back and open my eyes to see an intense pair of green eyes staring back at me. ‘Callan.’ His name manages to slip past my lips as I fight to stay awake.

‘I’ve got you, baby.’

Those are the last words I hear spoken before I’m thrust into a dreaded pool darkness.