The Bonus

Gabriel – Aged 16.

I flick my pen as I stare down at the essay I’m trying to write. What’s another word for catastrophe? Umm, problem, mishap, disaster…. I frown as I try to concentrate.

English, my mortal enemy.

My mom walks up the hallway and then turns around and walks back, she’s in her pink dressing gown and has been pacing back and forth for over an hour now.

I glance at my watch, 9 p.m.….

Where is he?

I drag my attention back to my schoolwork, another word for catastrophe…umm….

From the corner of my eye I see my mother pick up her phone and call my father, I pretend not to listen as I stare at my work.

“Hello,” she says. “Where are you?” She listens for a beat. “Again?” She listens again. “You couldn’t call me to let me know?”

I hear the hurt in her voice and my stomach twists.

“I’m here with your children waiting for you to come home, where else would I be?” she whispers angrily.

He says something as she listens intently. “Yes I know you have a lot of pressure on you,” she says as her voice softens. “I know it’s not your fault. I just miss you, that’s all. We need you at home with us, can’t you work from your office here at night?”

I can hear his voice as he talks to her but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Yeah.” She sighs. “Okay.” She listens again. “I’ll be asleep by then. I guess it’s good night. I love you.” She hangs up with a deep exhale and looks over at me. “I’m going to get going to bed, Gabriel.” She walks over to stand behind me and puts her hands onto my shoulders as she looks down at my work. “You should call it a night too, darling.”

“Okay, just going to finish this essay first. I won’t be long, I promise.”

She kisses my forehead and rubs her hand through my hair, “You’re such a hardworking boy. Do you know how much I love you?”

I smile. “Good night, Mom, I love you too.”

She disappears up the stairs as I stare after her. I drag my eyes back to my essay but my mind wanders to my father and to what the hell is going on with him lately, why does he work back at the office all the time now?

He’s the CEO, he gets to decide where he works from…and yet he would rather be at the office. What the hell is so good about the office anyway?

Annoyed, I turn my attention back to my essay.

I get a vision of him sitting at his desk in the deserted office building, working so hard to support our family, and the pressure he must feel, and guilt fills me.

I need to get the best marks I can at school, I pick up my pen and get back to work.

I want to make him proud.

Gabriel – Aged 17.

Bang.

I wake with a start to hear muffled voices arguing.

My bedroom is dark and I roll over and pick up my phone, 2.20 a.m.

Who’s arguing at this time of the morning? I get up and go to the bathroom and I can hear my mother’s raised voice.

What’s going on?

I open my bedroom door and walk down the hallway and around the corner to my parents’ wing. Their bedroom door is closed and the light is peeking out from under it but I can hear raised voices through it.

What are they arguing about?

Creeping closer, I stand beside the door in the darkness so I can listen.

“You tell me, you tell me right now why your work shirt smells like perfume?” my mother shrieks.

“I have no idea,” my father replies. “Obviously when I hugged Marie today for her birthday she was wearing perfume.”

“You’re lying!” she screams.

“I’m too tired for your fucking dramatics tonight,” my father growls.

“Tired from what?” my mother snaps. “From all the work you’re doing at 2 a.m.” She screams, “Who the hell is she?”

“Go to sleep,” my father demands. “I’m not in the mood for this shit.”

“You’re not in the mood for this shit?” my mother explodes. “Maybe I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

“Then don’t put up with it,” he yells. “If you’re so unhappy fucking leave.”

“Are you or are you not having an affair?” my mother yells.

“If you even have to ask that then you don’t know me at all,” he yells back.

“That’s the point,” she screams. “I don’t know you at all anymore. You’re never home, you’re always working late at the office.”

“To support you and this fucking family!” he cries. “I’ve just worked a seventeen-hour day and now I come home to this fucking bullshit. I’m sleeping in the spare room. I’ve had enough of you.”

Shit.

I duck around the corner and hide and he comes marching out with his pillow and disappears down the hall.

I wait until he’s gone and I walk back to peer into my mother’s room, she’s sitting alone on the side of her bed crying. I watch her for a minute, unsure what to do, but eventually I walk in and sit down beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, Mom,” I tell her. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, honey,” she whispers as she wipes her eyes to once again act brave. “Everything’s fine, go back to bed.”

I nod, but I don’t leave. And she doesn’t make me, and we sit in the silence together.

Both lost in our own thoughts.

Gabriel – Aged 19.

I open the email and I hear the voices coming, I glance up just in time to see. “And you know what that means?” My father playfully winks as they walk past my desk and she laughs on cue.

“Can I see you in my office for a moment?” he asks her.

“Of course, sir.” She gives him a sexy smile and they disappear into his office and close the door behind them.

It’s just another day in the office.

I work at Ferrara Media now. It’s always been my dream to work here alongside my father. To learn the ropes and to make my family proud.

Now…. Not so much.

Feeling the love and respect you had for your father slowly gurgle down the drain is as depressing as it gets, and just when you think that the knife can’t cut any deeper, in it goes.

I stare at my computer and I hear her giggle, my stomach twists with jealousy.

My father is fucking his PA.

The worst part about it is that he doesn’t try and hide it from me. He doesn’t care if I know or not. We’ve never had the conversation but there isn’t a doubt in my mind about what’s going on.

I die a little every time I watch my mother beg for his love. I hear her cry late at night when he doesn’t come home and I listen to him lie to her every day.

His trips to Italy are becoming more and more frequent, and longer each time. It’s ramping up, I can feel it coming to a climax and he doesn’t care anymore.

He wants out.

He’s going to leave us…some days I wish that he would just fucking go and be done with it, put us all out of this misery.

To watch your family slowly disintegrate before your eyes is painful.

But to watch your mother suffer through it is a fate worse than death.

I hear things go flying off his desk through the wall and I know exactly what they’re doing in there. I get a vision of them and nausea runs through me.

What kind of man sleeps with his personal assistant?

What kind of man puts a random woman before his own family?

I swear on my life, I’ll never be like him…not ever.

I fucking hate him.

Gabriel – Aged 26.

Knock, knock.

“Yes,” I call.

My office door opens and Alessio puts his head around the corner. “Remember to be nice.”

I slap my folder onto my desk. “Get the fuck out.”

“I mean it.” He walks in. “The HR team have handpicked this one.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “Like the last five assistants they’ve handpicked.” I open my emails, bored with this conversation. “Useless the lot of them.”

“Just be nice. We don’t want anyone else resigning on the first day.”

I fake a smile and then drop my face immediately. “Why don’t you do me a favor and resign?”

“Gabriel.” He widens his eyes. “Be nice.”

“Yes, yes.” I sigh.

“I’ll send her in.”

“Her?” I frown. “I don’t want a her.”

“She’s the most qualified for the job.”

“But she’s a woman.”

“Will you stop being sexist,” he whispers angrily.

“I’m not being sexist; I’m being fucking honest. I’m not interviewing a woman for the PA position, end of story.”

Knock, knock.

We both turn to see a woman at the open door. Long red hair, perfect posture, and the most beautiful face I have ever seen. I find myself walking toward her. “Hello.” I hold my hand out to shake hers. “Gabriel Ferrara.”

“Hello, Mr. Ferrara.” She smiles confidently. “I’m Grace Porter.”

Oh….

Her voice is husky, sexual.

No, no, no…this is all wrong.

“I’m sorry, the position has been filled,” I tell her.

“No it hasn’t.” She walks past me into my office and then turns to face me. “I just heard you say you didn’t want a woman as your personal assistant.”

“I don’t.”

“Tough luck.” She folds her arms. “You heard him, I’m the most qualified for the job.”

Who the fuck is this witch?

She gestures to my chair. “Sit down, Mr. Ferrara, I came for an interview and you are going to interview me.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Fine.” She sits down and takes a folder out of her bag. “Then I’ll interview you. I have a long list of questions.”

Huh?

I stare at her as my mind goes blank.

Alessio smiles broadly as he looks between us. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” I hear the door click as I stare at her.

She opens her folder and takes out a pen and paper. “Firstly…. How do you like your coffee?”

I frown. “That is none of your business.”

“I like mine strong with cream and half a sugar,” she announces.

“Do I look like I care?”

She scribbles something down onto her notepad.

I walk around the desk and drop into my seat. “What are you writing there?”

“Four teaspoons of sugar in your coffee.”

“Why would I need four fucking teaspoons of sugar?” I spit.

She looks me dead in the eye. “To sweeten you up. Why else?”

I roll my lips to hide my smirk. “You’re annoying me already.”

“Likewise. When do I start?”

“Monday and don’t be fucking late.”

She stands and puts her handbag over her shoulder. “Don’t you be late.” She marches out and the door closes behind her.

I pick up my pen and flick through my calendar to Monday and I write the words.

Grace Porter

I lean back in my chair and read the name again and then underline it. My eyes rise to the back of the door that she just left through.

Hmm….

Monday just got interesting.

Gabriel – Aged 29.

I spray on my cologne and do up the cuff links on my shirt as I glance at my watch.

Where is she?

I pull on my suit jacket and go into the bathroom and do my hair in the mirror. I hear my office door open and close. “Morning, Gabriel,” Gracie calls as she rushes in.

“What time do you call this?” I call.

“You aren’t even ready yet,” she calls back as she opens my computer. “I don’t start work for another hour…in case it slipped your mind.”

“Very funny,” I call back. “You are well aware that nothing slips my mind.”

“Hurry up, I have a lot to do today,” she calls from my office.

I roll my eyes as I continue to comb my hair.

“Don’t forget I’m going to lunch today right on twelve thirty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I walk into my office to see Gracie sitting at my desk going through my calendar. Her hair is curled and she’s wearing a pretty pink dress.

Huh?

“Okay, let’s steamroll through this. So at nine you have a meeting with Glenora from Blakehurst.”

“Why do you look like that?” I ask as I look her up and down.

“Focus.” She keeps reading the computer screen. “Then at ten you have a Zoom meeting with Atomic Advertising.”

Since when does she curl her hair for work? My eyes linger on her breasts, perkier than usual…is she wearing a push-up bra?

The fuck is going on here?

“At eleven thirty you have a meeting with the marketing team. The notes are in your email under the heading Eleven thirty meeting.”

“Who are you having lunch with?” I ask.

“Then at one you have a Zoom with the United Kingdom office.”

“Gracie,” I snap.

Her eyes rise to meet mine. “Yes, Gabriel.”

“I asked you a question.”

“What is it?” She screws up her face as if I am a major inconvenience.

“Who are you having lunch with?”

“A friend.”

“What friend?”

“You don’t know her.”

“It’s a her?”

“Of course it’s a her.”

“You curled your hair for a her?”

She rolls her eyes.

“You never curled your hair for me?”

“That’s because you wouldn’t notice even if I did. Can you concentrate for two minutes here.”

“I didn’t notice you curled your hair today?”

“Oh my god.” She sighs. “You’re exhausting, do you know that?”

I go to the coffee machine and begin making our coffee. “I have been told that a few times.”

“You’re also disgusting.”

“Got to admit.” I smirk as I sip my coffee. “Disgustingly exhausting is high on my rotation.”

“Please….” She goes back to reading. “This afternoon you have a final meeting….”

“Why would someone wear a push-up bra to work…I wonder?” I ask.

Her eyes rise to meet mine. “Why would someone even notice that?”

“Some people notice everything.” I pass the cup of coffee to her.

“Well.” She takes a sip. “Some people are nosey parkers who need to mind their own business.”

“What’s her name?”

“Who?” She frowns.

“Your lunch date.”

“Oh my god. It’s not a lunch date, I’m having lunch with a friend.” She picks up her folder. “Get to work, Mr. Ferrara.”

“You get to work, Miss Porter.”

“I am.”

“Good.” I widen my eyes and point to the door. “Go now.”

“I am.”

12.15 p.m.

I walk out the front door of the Ferrara Media building and straight over to my car where Mark is waiting. “Hide the car,” I tell him.

“What?” He frowns. “Why?”

“There’s been a change of plans.”

“Like what?”

“Grace is going on a lunch date.”

He chuckles.

“I fail to see the humor. Hide the fucking car.”

“Why?”

“Because we are spying on her…why do you think?”

“Of course we are.” Mark pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You move the car and I’ll be across the road in the park.”

“Why can’t I just leave the car here?”

“Because she knows I’m here if my car is here and I want her to think I’m gone.”

“Gone where?”

“To bury the bodies of people who ask too many dumb questions,” I whisper angrily. “Move it.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

I run across the road and go behind the hedges and ten minutes later he comes over to stand beside me. “Duck down,” I tell him.

“She can’t see me. You duck down.”

We both peer over the hedge. “Here she comes,” I whisper.

“She can’t hear us. You don’t need to whisper.”

“You’d be surprised,” I mutter as she comes into view. “This woman is bionic.”

“Oh,” Mark whispers as he looks over her. “She looks beautiful today.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too,” he murmurs as we watch her. She smiles and waves as a man comes into view. He smiles and walks up to her.

“Who the fuck is that?” I whisper.

He bends and kisses her cheek.

“I’m taking it that he’s the date,” Mark replies, “Just a hunch.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I watch them turn and walk off in the opposite direction. “Fuck me.”

“He’s good looking.” Mark shrugs.

“Come on.” I begin to walk through the park.

“Where are we going?”

“Following them.” I hold my hands up. “Do you listen to me at all?”

“Not if I can help it.”

We stumble through the park while I keep peeking over the hedge.

“Are they holding hands?” Mark asks.

“Better fucking not be.” They walk around the corner with Mark and me hot on their heels and we watch them disappear into a restaurant.

“What do we do now?” Mark asks.

Hmm…. I look around and see a laundromat opposite. “This way.” We rush up the street and into the laundromat and I twist the pole on the venetian blinds to close them to the street. Mark and I peer through them.

“Excuse me,” the lady behind the counter asks. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a sting.” I peek through the blinds. “We’re in the Secret Service. Very important business.”

Mark chuckles. “Fuck me.”

“You can’t close my blinds like that.”

“Watch me.” I peer across the street over at the restaurant.

A customer goes to walk in the front door. “We’re closed.” I snap, “Come back later.”

“Oh….” He walks off.

“Listen, Mister.” The lady begins to get angry. “You cannot come in here and close my store.”

Over in the restaurant the man puts his arm around Gracie and my eyes widen in horror.

“Get out,” the lady yells.

I slap my credit card onto the counter. “Five thousand dollars for an hour.”

“Are you serious?” she gasps.

“Deadly. Ring it up.”

Gabriel – Aged 33.

“Jingle Bell Rock” by Bobby Helms rings out. The ground floor of the Ferrara Media building has been transformed into a winter wonderland. I’m at the Christmas party and I’m wearing a gray suit with a Santa hat, but I’m feeling anything but festive.

My eyes skim the room again, just like they have at least a hundred times tonight.

Where is she?

I sip my beer as I pretend to listen to the boring conversation going on around me.

And then I see her…. Wearing a red dress….

Oh….

Our eyes meet and my heart skips a beat, I smile and raise my glass and she smiles back.

Gracie goes into conversation with her friends and I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch her.

She’s leaving me.

I imagine my life without her in it and….

It just doesn’t seem plausible. How will I handle not seeing her each day….?

The walls begin to close in and I can’t be here for one minute longer. I can’t pretend that I’m anything but devastated.

I begin to perspire, my grip on my control is weakening and I’ve never felt so unstable.

“Excuse me.” I nod as I head to the elevator. I make my way up to my office and look over at her desk.

To think that I’ll never see her sitting there again…is too much to bear.

She’s leaving me.

I pour myself a scotch and walk into my office and sit in a chair in the corner.

I have a problem…. A major fucking problem.

And I’m heartsick over it.

My name is Gabriel Ferrara and I am utterly and hopelessly in love with Gracie Porter.