Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Well, I run the office. And, uh, tend the cabins and ground and...and do the errands for my mother," Norman explained. "The ones she allows I might be capable of doing."

"And do you go out with friends?" Marion asked.

"Well, a boy's best friend is his mother," came the reply of Norman.

Skylar was currently on her bed, in her dorm, eyes transfixed on her  laptop screen as Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho played on her screen. A cinematic legend released in 1960. It was a movie that was dear to her heart because it was tense, horrific, and superb in only the way Hitchcock could make it. And sure, it was released over three decades before she was born, but boy was she in love with that movie.

It was then that she hid under her covers at the sudden burst of light emitted by Sarah turning on the lights. She groaned as she retreated from her covers and adjusted to the brightness.

"Are you watching a black and white film?" Sarah asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

Sarah seemed very confused. "Why would you submit yourself to that?"

"Because I appreciate good cinema," Skylar responded matter-of-factly.

Sarah sighed and sat down on her own bed. Her gaze never left Skylar though. After a few seconds she said, "So I got your text."

After getting back from Burlingame, Skylar had not been able to find Sarah, hence she sent her a text explaining to her that she would no longer be her roommate as she was moving as soon as she got everything settled in administration. Skylar would only be staying in the dorm until Monday morning, because as soon as her classes were over she would be making a quick stop at her new apartment to drop off all her belonging, and then head off to her first day of her internship at Ian's law firm.

"Is that really happening?"

"Yes," Skylar said. "Apparently Ian wants me to live closer to work. It's in Burlingame. Right in between school and work. I see where he's coming from."

"And how are you going to transport yourself there?" Sarah asked.

Skylar blushed. "About that. Uh, Ian also got me a car."

At that Sarah stayed quiet for a moment. Skylar could only imagine what she was thinking. Of course that didn't seem like normal things to give your new employee, and Skylar didn't want her to think that she was somehow seducing Ian because that was just laughable.

"Do you think he has a thing for you?" Sarah asked seriously.

At that, Skylar scoffed. "Of course not! Ian is a really nice guy, but he only cares about his daughter and work. I doubt he has women in mind at the moment. And if he does, I'm pretty sure it's some more mature, hot woman working at his firm. She probably has a big rack and looks great in a bikini."

Ian was sitting in his office, finishing up some paperwork for a client. He had gotten to work radically late as he had been showing Skylar her new apartment, and it was almost time to close, and this time he did plan on leaving at the same time as everyone else. Emily needed him. He had to stop being selfish and put work aside from time to time for his daughter. That was what a  good father would do.

Paula, the receptionist, entered the office with a clipboard on hand. She was a pretty woman in her late twenties. No kids. Single. She was also very nice and respectful. The type of woman he would have been interested in when he was younger. But now all he could think of was a certain law student.

"Skylar Grant and Micah Nesterovich are starting Monday," she reminded him.

"Yes," he said. "I actually remember that." Because how could he forget that she was going to work for him.

"Is there anyone in particular that you would like to assign them to?" she asked.

"Nesterovich can be mentored by Johnson," he said, deciding that the older man would do well to teach the apprentice.

"And Miss Grant?"

He paused for a moment. "She's with me." Only because it would benefit her more to be under his wing, of course.

After leaving work, he made his way directly back to the townhouse he lived in. Emily was there with her babysitter, and he knew that his daughter would be glad to see her dad get home early for the first time in a while.

As expected, Emily was very happy indeed.

"Daddy!" the little girl mused, jumping into her father's expectant arms.

"Hello, princess," he said, kissing her forehead.

He paid the babysitter for her time and put on a movie for them to watch. Emily picked out Despicable Me 2, one of her favorites. Even though it was a kids movie, Ian didn't mind watching it. In fact, he found it to be quite entertaining.

It was towards the end of the movie, when Emily was half asleep, that his phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered, not recognizing the number.

"Ian?" a female voice on the other end of the line said. "It's Christina."

He stopped breathing for a second and couldn't really figure out the words to say. But finally he did. "Christina," he said slowly.

Christina. The women he had had a drunken night of sex with. The woman whom had given birth to his precious daughter. The woman whom had left her daughter because she just wanted to have fun. The selfish woman that left it all upon Ian. What the hell did Christina want.

"Hi."

"What do you want?" he snapped. "And how did you get this number?"

"My mother still talks to your mom, you know," she said. "I really wanted to talk to you. How's Em-"

"You don't get to ask about her," he said. He was furious. After all these years she finally called to ask about Emily.

"Ian, I know I'm not your favorite person in this world, but she is my daughter," she said. "And I want to know how she's doing. I deserve to know as her mother."

Ian gulped. He didn't want to start yelling as that would alert Emily of a problem, and he didn't want her to know the wretched woman had called.

"She's great," he said. "There's your answer. Are you happy now?"

"I'm glad to hear that," she said.

Ian scoffed. "Too tired of partying in London? Or where are you right now? Milan? Cabo?"

There was nervous laugher at the other end of the line. "I know you think the worst of me, Ian. But I've changed. I'm in Paris, but not because of what you think. I did bad things, Ian." There was a weird noise, as if she were crying.

"Things I regret."

"What kind of things?" he asked, although he didn't want to feel bad for her.

"I did a lot of drugs and drank a lot of alcohol. So much so that I don't remember much from those nights. I overdosed and that's when my family found out about my problem. I'm in rehab, Ian. And I'm getting better."

"Good for you," he said. "I'm glad to hear that, Christina."

"I'm getting better, for myself, but mostly for my daughter that didn't grow up with a mother because of my stupidity," she explained. "I want to see her."

At Jason's apartment, he and Skylar were laying on the carpet of the living room, eyes closed, ears open, taking in the sound of "Lonely Boy" by The Black Keys. Music was the element that brought them two together. Jason was the only person she knew that had the same music taste as her. They could just lay side by side, enjoying the melodies of classic rock, Indie music, and even folk songs. That was their preferred way of bonding.

"I'm guessing we won't be able to do this much after Monday," Jason said, breaking their mutual silence.

Skylar pouted. "In between classes and you, sir, can visit me in Burlingame whenever you please," she said. She wanted to make it work. Jason was such a good guy and was one of the few people she could connect with.

They spent the rest of the day together, enjoying the music that flowed through the speakers. Jason busted out a bottle of cheap wine that they loved and ordered Greek food. They were comfortable with each other. For a long time Skylar had had trouble making friends, trusting people. It felt natural being with Jason. She felt as if she had known him her entire life.

It didn't happen while they danced to "Revolution" by The Beatles, both of them laughing and spinning wildly. Nor did it happen when Jason started playing random, yet quite beautiful, notes on his guitar. It didn't even happen when Skylar spilled wine over her shirt and had to take it off in front of him to put on  one of his clean t-shirts.

No. It happened when they were both sitting on his couch, The Avengers playing on his TV, both tired and slightly tipsy, but very conscious to know exactly what was happening.

"I want to try something," Jason murmured next to her.

She was about to respond when she felt his warm lips press against hers, his arms pulling her onto his lap. She would be lying if she said she didn't like it. Because she did enjoy the intimate contact between them.

She didn't try to stop it. In fact she tangled her fingers into his messy hair and kissed him back. She didn't stop him when he pulled his shirt off her. Not when his hands roamed to her breasts, causing her to emit soft moans that were swallowed by his hungry mouth. Not even when a certain part of his anatomy poked at her most intimate part, she even responded by a slow grinding.

She stopped it when Ian's name came rushing out of her lips, just to open her eyes and realize that it wasn't Ian but Jason. Jason whom she only thought of as a friend and never imagined making out with.

"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed at having called him by another man's name. "I should go."