Saving Elliot ©2015 Sydney Wray

Chapter 27~Unpleasent Encounters

"Yes. Yes, of course sir." My father nodded into his phone, sitting perfectly still across from me in our Limousine. "My driver tells me we will be there around three."

I listened numbly to the call as he hung up.

"So is this meeting about a new project of yours?" I asked as professionally as I could, minding my laxer grammar.  He had told me had had shut down the construction in downtowns L.A, so I assumed the lunch meeting in Hollywood was involving something new.

He studied me for a moment, parting his lips. "Yes."

I nodded, setting my gaze outside the tainted windows.

"Elliot, where have you been lately?"

I was surprised he noticed. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"I mean," he sounded impatient, "That you've been out a lot lately."

"Researching. Stocks." I answered immediately, blinking.

Father raised an eyebrow. "This meeting is important. Please be on your best behavior."

"Of course." I fake-smiled, mentally wanting to punch him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I shook sweaty hands of aristocratic businessmen, who grinned at my father in awe.

I exchanged a glance of torture with Damion who sat in the car and chuckled at my expression. He shook his head.

This was going to be a long hour and a half.

We entered the expensive-looking restaurant, myself last of course, and was seated at a table.

I was supposed to spend the day at the beach with Alex today, but the meeting blockaded that plan.

We ordered water with exactly two and a half slices of lemon, and I sat silently as I listened numbly to the exchanged conversation of prices for employment.

Normally, that type of conversation would've intrigued me three months ago, but all I could think about then was banging my head against the table.

I felt like my tie was wound too tight; my shirt was too pressed, and my blazer just hung limply in my mind like an old uniform.

"Sir?"

I looked up into the waiter's eyes. "Sorry?"

"Would you like a drink?"

"Oh," I fumbled with my menu, and I felt my father's gaze on me, "Coke-?"

"-he's fine, thank you." Father interrupted, nodding him away.

"I wanted a Coke." 

He glared at me. "And I said you're fine."

I wanted to yell. Frustrated was one of the many adjectives I felt. Why couldn't I order one? What did it matter?

He returned to his conversation.

What was his problem? Was I that bad of a son? Did I deserve this all, even if I might've caused my mother's death? Did he..blame me?

I set my eyes to the distance, where the waiters and waitresses came in through revolving doors.

My heart almost stopped; my eyes widened and my stomach jumped. No, it couldn't be.

There was no way.

A blonde was faced away from me. Familiar, dirty blonde and curly. But, it couldn't have been her. No. It was impossible.

There were many blondes like that in the state of California.

I swallowd, waving our waiter over.

He nodded, folding his hands behind his back and walking toward me. I kept one eye on the blonde who still hadn't faced me. It looked like she was writing something, scribbling nonchalantly.

"Um," I cleared my throat and pointed while murmuring to him, "That girl over there.."

He looked, then at me. "Yes?"

"Would it be possible if she could also wait our table?"

Our waiter nodded. "Of course, sir."

I dropped my gaze to the white table cloth, not wanting to confirm my suspicion until she came to our table.

It seemed like forever. It felt like I was rubbing the tablecloth in my finger for minutes. I was thankful my father didn't notice anything strange.

My heart beat thudded in my ears as I noticed in my peripheral footsteps were making their way to our table.

"Hi, can I help you?" The girl asked. I hadn't looked up and was squeezing my eyes shut.

I would've known that voice anywhere. The beautiful, smooth, and scratchy voice.

"Yes." It came out croaked, and I looked up.

Her blue eyes settled onto mine, her pink lips parting in shock.

Hailey stood in front of me.