Page 12 of Belle Amour
“I told you when you said you were going to hire her that I would resign,” Bastian reminded him. “Does your hearing just turn off when someone says something negative about her? Jesus, John, I fucking told you this was going to happen, and you kept insisting things would be fine.” Bastian stood up. “I’m going to go clean out my office.” There was nothing John could say to excuse things anymore.
When Bastian finished packing up his and the few things Mirabelle had left behind, he brought the boxes to his car and grabbed the divorce papers from the passenger side seat. He hesitated; Marie had let him know she had moved back in with John, Kelly and Kade and was refusing to do anything around the house except clean up after herself. She had taken over the basement and moved Kelly and Kade upstairs with John, buying a new lock for the basement door so he couldn’t escape them, basically making his life as miserable as possible.
He was debating waiting until next week or hiring someone to serve John with the paperwork but knew it would be better if it came from him. He walked back in to see John sitting at his desk, typing furiously on his keyboard. “Before I leave, I want you to know I’m really sorry about this.” John glanced up at him and huffed. “Not about leaving; you brought that on yourself.” Bastian clarified. “About this.” He held the large manila envelope out to him. John took it slowly, looking very nervous.
“You’re going to sue me?”
Bastian paused, furrowing his brow as he considered John’s words. He probably could, but what would be the point? “Uh, no. Marie is filing for divorce and has retained me as her lawyer.”
John froze and didn’t say anything, but Bastian noticed he was suddenly sweating profusely, his face was turning red, and his breath was coming in short gasps. “John?” John looked up at him, fear in his eyes and his mouth opening and closing, with no sounds coming out, and his right hand reached up, gripping the left side of his chest tightly. “Fuck.” Bastian pulled out his phone and dialled 9-1-1, telling the dispatcher his friend was potentially having a heart attack. Kelly heard the sudden commotion and came in to see Bastian helping John down to the floor and loosening his tie.
“What’s going on?” Bastian rolled his eyes as she ran over and started waving her hands frantically in her father’s face. “Why can’t he breathe? What’s wrong with him?”
“Give him some room.” He snapped, irritation sparking as she got in her father’s face and tried to look into his eyes. “I think he’s having a heart attack.” Kelly immediately threw herself on her father’s chest and began to wail loudly, begging him not to die; he had to stay alive for her and Kade. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered. “John? Stay with me. Will you get back?” He hissed at Kelly. “I might need to give him chest compressions.” Kelly finally got out of the way but sat nearby, still crying loudly. Luckily, the ambulance showed up within minutes, and EMTs filed into the room and immediately took over. One of them pulled Bastian aside and asked what happened. Bastian explained about resigning and then informing John that his wife wanted a divorce.
“This is all your fault!” Kelly screamed, launching herself at Bastian. “You’re trying to kill him!”
Bastian caught her by the wrists easily and glared at her. “Actually, this is your fault. If you weren’t such a spoiled, entitled brat, his wife wouldn’t be divorcing him, his support staff wouldn’t have quit all at once, and I wouldn’t have resigned.”The EMT was looking between them and didn’t seem to know if he should let them have it out or separate them. Bastian saw the small glance Kelly gave the – admittingly good-looking – man and realized this was all for show. He smirked and decided to really drive home the point with a side of humiliation. He gave her a small, gentle shake to get her to look at him. “And just a small reminder, I still have three years to sue you for fraud and slander for trying to set me up as the father of your baby, so I’d sit down and shut up if I were you.” He let her go with a small shove so she was out of his way and turned to watch as John was hooked up to a heart rate monitor.
“Riigghhtt.” The EMT seemed to decide it wasn’t worth getting involved. Kelly moved away from Bastian, her cheeks the colour of a stop sign, and hovered around the edge of where they were working on her father. “So, we’re going to take him to the hospital. Is there someone we should call or…”
“That’s his daughter.” Bastian nodded toward Kelly dismissively. “I’ll let his wife know. I’m pretty sure she’s still next of kin.” As they wheeled John out, Kelly followed behind, insisting she was going to ride with her father, while a different EMT was trying to explain that John’s heart rate kept going up whenever Kelly got too close. Bastian followed everyone out and locked up the office, then dropped his key into the mail slot. He called Marie and let her know that he had served John, and he was being brought to the hospital, this time with what looked like a genuine heart attack. He advised her that she didn’t have to go to the hospital, but it wouldn’t hurt her divorce case if she decided to do so.
The rest of his week was spent finalizing details on the office space and checking up on the paperwork he’d filed to start a Professional Limited Liability Company, which had been his first step in the process and was the reason it took solong to leave Henderson. They often took several months to get approved, no matter how detailed and correct you were filling them out. He also applied online for an Employee Identification Number, then went to the bank and opened an EIN account and an Interest on Lawyer Trust Account. He planned to have as much ready as he possibly could for when Mirabelle returned so he could prove to her that he was serious about them leaving and starting their own firm.
Chapter Ten: The Wedding Invitation
After over a week of no contact with Mirabelle, Bastian was heading to Mirabelle’s condo for the fifth time since she left. He had been unable to stop himself from going in whenever he drove past her building. Part of him hoped he would find something he’d missed the previous time that would tell him where she went, and part of him hoped she had cooled off, had time to think and come home ready to hash things out with him. Marie had told him Mirabelle would be home late Sunday night, and when it passed dinner time Monday with no word from her, his limited patience ran out, and he drove to her place on his way home from shopping for computer systems for the office.
He pulled into the underground parking and saw her car in its spot; he pulled in beside it and was about to turn off the engine and go in when his phone rang. He frowned when the caller ID showed it was a sports bar about halfway between his condo building and Mirabelle’s, which he went to fairly frequently to watch MMA fights. He almost sent it to voicemail, but something told him he’d better answer. “Hello?”
“Bast? That you?” a voice he instantly recognized as belonging to Myles, his favourite bartender at the bar, came over the car’s speakers.
“Yeah, Myles, it’s me.” Bastian frowned. “What’s up?”
“Oh good, I was hoping it was you; I mean, how many Bastians can there be?” He chuckled awkwardly, and when Bastian didn’t respond, he continued hurriedly. “Um, yeah, so I have your friend Mira here, and she’s pretty drunk. I cut her off and asked if there was someone who could come get her, and she gave me your name and number.”
“I’ll be there in five.” Bastian hung up and pulled out of the parking garage quickly. Mirabelle being cut off for being too drunk raised all kinds of concerns. She wasn’t a drinker, neither of them were, but while Bastian enjoyed well-aged scotch occasionally, Mirabelle usually abstained completely, drinking tea or water and electing herself as the designated driver. So, for her to be so drunk that she was cut off was extremely out of character.
Bastian walked into the bar and spotted Myles at the far end, talking to the woman he had been told he needed to pick up. Seeing her giggling with Myles, Bastian felt a mixture of deep relief and anger wash over him. Myles looked up, saw him, and held up a finger. He said something to Mirabelle and then came down to speak to Bastian.
“Hey, Bast, I'm really glad you got here so quickly.”
“No problem, Myles; thanks for calling me and letting me know she was here.” Bastian couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was swaying slightly on the stool, a half-empty glass of some kind of mixed drink in front of her. When Myles walked away, her cheerful expression faded, and she stared sadly down into the glass, twirling it slowly in a circle between her hands. “Did she say anything about what's wrong?”
“Something about a wedding and an asshole.” Myles glanced at her over his shoulder, then looked back at Bastian.“When I came on shift an hour ago, she was already pretty drunk. She was definitely overserved, and I let the other bartender have it about that. It took me a while to convince her to let me call someone to pick her up. It was only when I asked her to touch her nose, and she couldn’t, that she agreed to it and gave me your name and number.”
“Okay,” Bastian nodded slowly. He was pretty sure he was the asshole she was referring to but wondered what she meant by a wedding. “I'll take care of her, no worries. Want to get me her bill?”
“Sure.” Myles nodded and went to ring her up as Bastian went down the bar and came to a stop next to his favourite person, relieved that even if he was the asshole she was referring to, she still asked for him.
“Is this seat taken?” He asked quietly, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw him and tell him to go away. To his surprise, when she heard his voice, she turned and absolutely lit up when she saw him.
“Bastian! Oh my god, you came!” Mirabelle stood up and stumbled to him, practically falling into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck as she caught herself.
“Of course I did, Mira.” Bastian wrapped his arms around her quickly, holding her up and hugging her tightly. “I was told you were drunk off your ass and had to come to see for myself.”
Mirabella pulled back from him, her eyes, which reminded him of the deep blue-grey-green colour of stormy ocean waves, filling with tears. “You came because you wanted to see me drunk?” She pushed herself off him and unsteadily sat back down. “Seats taken.”