THE CRYSTAL CLAIRE AFFAIR.

CHAPTER 1:

It seemed she'd been here so long that she'd forgotten who she was. Her past seemed like a distant dream that had flurried in her mind as she slept gently as a child. She used to be happy, she used to laugh, tell jokes and smile. Now, it seemed like she was just bitter and angry with the world and no one could understand why. Her pain and sorrow could be brought back with a simple look or touch. Like a sore that festers in the sun after a burn from the stove. That made them think she was insensitive but the truth is sometimes in the middle of the night she could be found crying silently onto her pillow. They didn't understand, but how could they? They didn't understand what it meant to walk in her shoes. Her beautiful, red soled, Christian Louboutin, five inches high heeled shoes. Who could wear them anyways, it's not like everyone else could afford a pair of custom made Christian Louboutins.

"Claire... Claire, are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, Jason, oh yeah... I'm alright."Lately she'd been doing that a lot. Her thoughts would venture to other places that she dared not. Things she tried to forget, to bury, to let go of. 

"Are you sure? I mean, I could just leave you for now," his eyes lingered on her face... trying to read her expression. He was worried about her. He had been her personal assistant for almost seven years, and close friends for four. He could still remember the first thing that crossed his mind during their first meeting. She had worn a blue, form-fitting dress with pearls dangling down her neck and ears. Her hair was much longer... and wilder then. Thought she would have liked to consider herself the big bad boss, in reality she was just a young woman in her early twenties trying to make it in the big apple.

"Jason, I'm fine, so, are we gonna get this presentation done with or what?" her hands gracefully brushed against her skin as she pushed her hair behind her ear. He had quickly learned that it was a nervous action. One day at a time her had watched her, and learned her movements. The difference between her happy smile, and her "who the freak is hugging me" smile. The way she walked when she was nervous, and the way she walked when she wasn't; how happy she was when her face made the front of a news paper. Yes, he had learned many things about Claire within the years, but one thing he just couldn't seem to put his finger on was why he cared so damn much for the woman who single handedly changed the face of Prague Magazine.

"Yes, well... I was thinking for next month's issue, we should talk about the cover story. Marcy had this brilliant idea of putting Anna Maria Rice on the cover, especially considering all the press she's been getting lately." He looked up from the stacks of papers on the desk, hoping that she'd heard even one word he'd said. She hadn't. "Claire... Claire! Listen, how about we just do this some other time...?"

"Jason, I said I was ok, didn't I?"

"Yes you did, but obviously you've got something on your mind so how about we do this some other time. These things usually go much faster and smoother when both parties are fully involved, Just saying." He waited to see how she would react to his pompous attitude. During the years that they've spent working together, they had grown so much closer than most lovers would. They had both developed immunity from each other's jokes, and insults. They were almost always on the same page, thinking alike, as if using one brain. Functioning like a couple could only after years of putting up with each other. What many couldn't accomplish in ten years as lovers, they had accomplished in two years as friends. Nothing more, nothing less, and in all those years, Jason had clearly learned the times when he could get away with saying anything he wished, and not have her eyes bearing holes right through him. This was one of those times.

She smiled. He knew her so well.

"Okay, that's fine. Just don't expect me to pay for your uneaten salmon," she said, pointing towards his untouched food on the table. "You'd have to pay for it yourself"

"Claire, you know I can't afford anything from this place," looking down at his plate of boiled fish, "And quite honestly it looks like it's been through some very hard times throughout its miserable life. Don't you think?"

"Oh, so not only do you not like my taste in food, you're now complaining about your pay roll...?" she gave him a weak smile, instinctually pushing her hair behind her ear again. Yes, there was something... or someone else on her mind, and as much as Jason would like to cuddle with her, and kiss her on her forehead, and act the part of a faithful friend, she was still his boss, and regardless of the boiling passion he felt for her... he knew better.

"If I was, will it make any difference?"

"Yeah, I might just decide to hire someone else who doesn't mind eating over priced salmon, and working for one of the most influential Editor and Chiefs in America, just saying." He could feel the sadness within her temporarily lift off, as she was back to being the sassy, smart-talking Claire that everyone knew, but didn't quite love. That was because they didn't know her like he did. They didn't understand her like he did, and they didn't feel the desperate longing to hold her, and kiss her, and touch her, and caress her, and...

"Jason, are you okay? You look a little red." It was becoming more difficult for him not to express his love for her. Somehow, in their journey as friends her personal life was permitted to be talked about, but he never really let her into his. He used the excuse of not liking to mix his personal and professional lives together. That too was a lie of course.

"Yeah, just feeling a little sick from staring at this thing on my plate," Awkward silence. "Well, anyways, I will see you tomorrow in the office." Getting up and kissing her on the cheek, "don't forget to wear the Gucci for your interview tomorrow."

Picking up, his messenger bag, dangling from the side of his chair, he started walking his way towards the exit door. Automatically, his arrogant air of pride and class could be seen by anyone within eye site. He couldn't count how many times he'd lied to himself; conveniently making up the excuse that the only reason he had to model strut his way when in a crowd was because he loved the hungry looks from all his spectators. He wasn't at all bad looking, and he knew it. He could see it in the eyes of the models he worked with, and the waitresses that attended to him, and from the stolen glances of women who looked his way every now and then even though their "partners"-probably husbands-were seated right next to them. Even then as he walked his way out of the room he could see them. Their eyes staring, their minds liking what their eyes saw. Yes, he wasn't the least physically unattractive, but the one woman his heart craved for beyond anything else in the world, just seemed not to care about his very existence.

Jason exchanged greetings with a few of his neighbors as he entered the elevator. Barely, a few months after he was hired to work as Claire's P.A., he had made enough money to afford a luxurious, two-bedroom apartment on the Lower East Side. Despite the many inconveniences that came along with working for Claire, at the end of the day he couldn't complain because not only did she pay him well, but the lifestyle he got to live was also very commendable. He met and dined with rich, influential, and influentially rich people. He got to travel to different parts of the world for no cost at all, and once in a while, his face would appear in the background of a picture of some insanely famous person, during some insanely expensive party, and his mother and sister would call, squealing and giggling insanely, asking him insane questions about that person as if he even got the chance to say a simple "hello".

Apartment 16E. Jason opened, and closed the door, dropping his bag on his brown couch, and immediately headed for the phone. No calls, no voice messages. That bugged him. His father had been feeling a little ill lately, and his mother had been worried. Manny, his little sister, would call, complaining about their mother who wouldn't stop crying. She too was scared for their father, and needed someone older, stronger, to be there, helping her hold things together.

She needed him there.

But instead, he was miles away from Maryland, in New York, working for a multi-millionaire whom he was head over heels in love with. The same multi-millionaire who not so coincidentally happened to be married to Jonathan Lewis, founder of Prague Magazine, and owner of over half of the shares at Manor Dreams Hotels. He was a renowned socialite who had everything to offer her, everything that Jason just couldn't give.

But how could he restrain his heart from loving her? Many times he'd want something, but would hold out on himself for one reason or the other. But this was different. He cared for her so much that he had to make a conscious effort not to think of her every minute of every day, whether or not she was by his side. Yes, he was handsomely in love with a happily married woman. Happily married!