Mr. Berkshire (Book 1 in the For Better Or Worst Trilogy)

Chapter 5

     The weekend passed painfully slow. The bookstore is currently closed for renovations, leaving me to my own devices. Flashbacks of Friday night kept finding their way back into my memory. In the midst of doing everyday chores, I would stop to think about Roman's scent, the warmth of his coat, the chills he sent throughout my body. It was ridiculous. 

     Thank goodness it's finally Monday. I dress in a short sleeved white flowy dress and a pair of white high heels. Today is a new day. Friday is a distant memory. I step outside with determination in my bones, his blazer resting on my purse, and bike in hand when i'm stopped in my path by a black limousine. An older man, in his late 70s, stands by the passenger door in a black suit. 

     "Ms. Calloway?" He asks. I look over my shoulders in search of this Calloway. There has to be another, different Calloway he's searching for. Because this Calloway couldn't afford a limo. After standing there awkwardly, the driver looking at me expectantly, I shift on my feet uncomfortably and raise my hand. 

     "I'm Sawyer Calloway, but this must be a mistake." I say, walking down the steps towards the man, dragging my bike behind me. "I'm so sorry, but I didn't order a limo."

     "No, sweetie. Roman ordered this car. Something about a photoshoot and a smancy magazine." He shrugs carelessly. I immediately like this man. He reminds me of my grandfather. 

     I leave my bike in the hall of my building before climbing into the limo, thanking the older man for opening the back passenger door for me. I set my purse and Mr. Berkshire's blazer beside me as I make myself comfortable. This seems a bit over extravagant for a drive to a photoshoot, but i'm not about to complain about a free ride. My legs are quite thankful not to be doing all the work. 

     "How long have you worked for Mr. Berkshire?" I ask curiously from the back seat. 

     "Since I started working for his parents. Little Roman wasn't even thought of yet." I notice that he calls Mr. Berkshire by his first name, a sign of affection. "I remember when he was only a boy and he would beg to sit up front. You would never believe it, but he used to wear this very hat." He taps his black hat, a goofy smile across his lips. "He said he would be just like me when he grew up." 

     "Mr. Berkshire? As a kid? I can't possibly imagine that." We both laugh. The rest of the ride, he talks about other people he has worked for. He has plenty of stories to tell. Who wouldn't after fifty years on the job? After a twenty minute drive, we arrive to a home that can be described as urban. The home is geometric with layer upon layer and way too many windows. "Where are we?"

     "Roman wants to meet you at his home first. I'll be waiting outside, sweetie." 

     Of course this is his home. It looks like the ultimate bachelor pad. However, is he even a bachelor? I nod and climb out of the car with my purse and his blazer in hand. I walk towards the bright red door that awaits me down the short stone path. Nervous, I knock at the door. I wait several seconds before I hear Mr. Berkshire's voice boom through the speaker beside the door. 

     "Come in, Ms. Calloway. I'm upstairs." And then silence. Hesitantly, I slowly step inside and close the door behind me.

      Inside everything is exactly what you would expect a man like Mr. Berkshire would live in. Most of the furniture is black leather, the floor tiles are sparkling black, white paints the walls contrasting the dark colors in the room, and different paintings cover the walls. The most curious object I find in the room though, is the black piano in the corner of the room. 

     "Ms. Calloway." Mr. Berkshire calls again, directing my attention to the task at hand. I start up the stairs, turn, and head up another staircase - one of those ones where you can see the first floor between the steps - until I reach the third floor. I look down the long hall on my left. 

     "Mr. Berkshire?" I call out.

     "Down here, Ms. Calloway." His voice rings down the hallway from behind the one door cracked open. I follow his voice, pushing open the door once i'm close enough. Inside, I find Mr. Berkshire standing in front of a mirror  with a tie in each hand. "I've had you brought here so you can help decide my image for the photoshoot." He turns to face me, moving the ties up and down. "Black or blue?" 

     "Red." I state, removing my purse and tossing it on his king sized bed. Before diving into his wardrobe, I take a second to survey the room. The room is almost what I would expect from him. Unlike the walls downstairs, the walls upstairs are painted a dark grey. Most of the furniture in his room are black with red accents. On the ceiling, there are carved circles with lights inside to illuminate the room. However, the large pieces of glass that make up the entire right wall of the room is enough to brighten the dark room during the day. "What's this photoshoot for, anyway? You don't do many interviews."

    "Have you been researching me, Ms. Calloway?" He asks teasingly. I roll my eyes as I walk past him, into his large walk in closet. Actually, this room is big enough to be another bedroom. This has to be the brightest room in the house by far. Besides the black counter in the middle of the room, everything is painted white. Everything is organized thoroughly, so it isn't hard to find the drawer full of ties. There are several shades of red, but I decide on a deep red that reminds me of rose petals. 

     "Everyone researches their boss." I argue, returning to the room to see that he's still staring at himself in the mirror with an unknown expression in his eyes. "What do you think of this one?" Mr. Berkshire looks like he has been yanked from a daydream and turns his attention to me. 

     "If you like it, I like it." He takes it from my grasp and begins to wrap it around his neck. While he adjusts the tie around his throat, he finally answers my question. "Every few years I have to do these interviews as a way to entice new authors. They want to know about the mystery man who has it all." He says the last sentence in a mocking tone. Once he finishes with the tie, he throws on a black blazer and turns his attention to his cuffs. I stop him and instead do it for him. 

     "Do you ever get nervous? Like maybe it won't go the way you expect it to?" I roll his cuffs and pin them in place with expert precision. Before church, I would often help my father and older brother with their ties and cuffs, making me nearly an expert. Even though my eyes aren't on his, I can feel his gaze burning into my lowered head. 

     "Perhaps, a bit." I don't know what answer I'm expecting, but that isn't it. Roman Berkshire seems like the type to be annoyingly beyond confident about everything. "Reporters can get far too personal with questions that are supposed to be about my company. They're out for blood." He explains. Though, I can't help, but wonder if he didn't have so many secrets, maybe it wouldn't be so difficult. After he finishes dressing, I walk over to his bed and retrieve his blazer from Friday night. 

     "You forgot this, by the way." I hold it out to him and even though he tries to restrain it, I can clearly see his grin. He takes it from my grasp and returns it to his closet. "Your money is still in there." I can hear him chuckle as he finds a place to store the blazer. "I also found the picture of your family." I carefully add. The room suddenly goes deadly silent. So silent, that I can probably hear a pen drop. I quickly add, "Your baby is so cute. He looks just like you." Silence. I gulp, anxiously. All I can see is his back and he's clearly tense. "Your wife is be-" Before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off. 

     "We're gonna be late, Ms, Calloway." He states abruptly, then he's marching out room. Sighing, I follow with my tail tucked between my legs. Maybe he likes to keep his business and personal life separate? There goes that line again. 

     "I need to use the restroom." I say softly, reaching for the door beside his room, hoping that it's the restroom. 

     "No!" He shouts, sending my hand in the opposite direction and back to my side. My eyes widen as I watch him return to me. "Do not go in that room." His eyes are fiery, fueled by extreme anger and fear. "Use the restroom at the photoshoot." I nod then hurry out of his home. There's no going back from that.

What do you think Mr. Berkshire is hiding?

Why is he hiding it?

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