The Sandstone Affair

“Yes, Mark,” I say softly, as if an odd spell has changed my entire demeanor. He smiles reassuringly then turns to pick his work off the floor.

Chapter 3

It’s noon and I’m still sitting at the kitchen table, which is covered in paperwork. Old mail, notes, and the documents Kenneth Allen gave me the day I was fired all sit in front of me in one intimidating lump. Normally I can focus and get things done, but I’m so distracted by my feelings about Mark and what we did that I can’t really think at all.

Did that really happen? I shift positions in my chair and the soreness winds throughout my lower body reminding me that Mark Stone f**king me over his office desk was all too real, indeed.

How on earth did I even get in that position? Did I want it? Did I need it? Most importantly, no matter what I think about my wants and needs, what does Mark think about me? I go into his office screaming like a madwoman and end up gripping the edge of his desk begging him to take me. I needed his help and respect, and now I’m not sure I have either.

That’s not really fair though. I mean, that kind of dance takes two. How unfair is it of him to take advantage of my clearly unhinged state and toss me over the desk? Why wasn’t he looking out for my company in the first place? I’m mad at Mark, and I’m mad at me. We somehow managed to take a bad situation and make it worse. Anger isn’t a bad thing; it’s fuel and it propels me to do something with the stack of crap in front of me besides stare at it.

Grabbing a cup of strong coffee, I move out of my haze and sort the mail from the rest of the pile. Nothing too interesting: a few bills, some sale flyers and a copy of Inc. Magazine for business owners. Guess I have to cancel my subscription to that. Then I see one of the bills is marked “Glenvale Cancer Treatment Center.” That’s not good. I rip the envelope open to confront one the many facts of my situation I had not wanted to face.

An outrageous sum for chemotherapy and care for the past two weeks is due by Friday. I have this payment and maybe two or three more, then I’m out of money. Dad isn’t responding to anything they were doing for him at Mercy General and his Medicare cap is getting close. They wanted to put him on “comfort care” and let the cancer run its course. Mark helped me find Glenvale. It’s an experimental cancer treatment center that offers drug trials and in-patient treatment but isn’t covered under insurance. So, I’ve been footing the bill. The scary part is, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up without a job.

The phone rings.

“Julia Sharp,” I answer with my usual business voice. Just because I’m unemployed doesn’t mean I have to sound like a pauper, particularly to the scheduler from the Sunrise Yoga.

“Julia, it’s Janice. I’m at the yoga place.”

“I can’t come to yoga right now, Janice. I’ve got things on my mind, if you haven’t noticed.” My tone with her is crisp and snide. I guess I can’t blame her for continuing to work at Lynx, but it would have been a comforting gesture if my good friend would’ve stood up for me and left.

“I don’t care about yoga. It’s the only safe place to call you from.”

“What?”

“Kenneth All-Slime and Blake the Snake are in the office all the time. I can’t call you from there, and I’m kind of afraid to use my cell. Everyone is really tense.”

“Well, that’s what you get when you decide to stay in the gutter with the rats,” I say without compassion. Does she really think I should feel sorry for her? It’s my life that’s a mess.

Janice gives me an annoyed sigh. “I just wanted to let you know I got it out of the office before they found it. When you’re ready for it, it’s secure.”

“You’ve got what?”

“The story, of course. That’s what all this is about isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what it’s about, to tell you the truth. But keep the story safe. And, thanks Janice.”

A hot bath, a glass of Merlot, and some nice music is the best medicine I can afford right now. While some folks use those things to relax, I’m using them just to keep myself going. I’ve got to find a way to get my head around what’s happening. I admit I’ve had my eye on Mark Stone for some time, imagining what a joint venture with him would be like in the boardroom and in the bedroom. But right now I’m as far from the boardroom as I could possibly get, and while I’ve certainly been on the receiving end of his attention, it’s not like he’s inviting me to the bedroom.

The wine takes the edge off, and I realize he’s right. I am afraid to ask for help, and I don’t like giving in. I do put on an act and try to bully people into my way. It’s the only way I know to get ahead in the publishing game. There’s no room for the weak. Valerie James is just as ruthless and cutthroat as I am. She just does it with a smile. Somehow that’s worse.

Finally relaxed, I mull my options. I’ve got a lawyer looking for a loophole in the original Sandstone Ventures contract, but he’s already said it looks airtight. I do get a chance to file a rejoinder, but I don’t even know what grounds I could file under. I have Mark’s mysterious plan, which I can’t even fathom–let alone count on. Finally, I have the Wall Street article Janice managed to save from Blake. I don’t know what to do with any of these but there has to be a way. The phone jars me out of my focused state.

“Julia Sharp,” I say, hoping it’s not Janice again calling me from the laundromat or Burger King.

“It’s Mark,” he says with that deep beautiful voice. I can see him in my mind’s eye and my body begins tingling in response to the very sound of him.

“What do you want?” I say far too rudely for my own good.

“Meet me at the fourth level of the parking deck at Monroe and Seventh Street around nine o’clock tonight. Come alone.”

“Do you want me to wear a cloak and carry a dagger?” I respond sarcastically. Mark just hangs up the phone leaving my attempt at humor hanging in the air like a bitter pill. Part of me thinks I should nip this in the bud right now and stand him up. That will back him off. Yet another part of me that resides noticeably lower in my body, wants to meet him and see what he can do.

I arrive about ten minutes to nine, and I’m the only car parked on this level. Mark pulls up in an Escalade at nine on the dot. He’s such a careful and exacting man. He gets out of the driver’s seat, opens the passenger side back door, and walks around to the driver’s side, getting in the back. I look around, and climb in the back.