Artificial Mates - Chapter 19

The only word I can use, to sum up, my day, utter crap. Everyone stared at me in the corridor as if I was some kind of monster. Each step separating me from my workstation took forever. The walk of shame, that’s what it was. The moment I shut the door and the hate behind and opened EWink. I needed emotional support.

Liliane: send me some happy vibe Grant.

Grant: A hug or a kiss?

Liliane: Anything as long as it’s sugarcoated.

Grant: check your bag

Liliane: It’s too early to eat. I haven’t started to work yet.

Grant: Just check it.

I went to get the bag hanging by the door. I pulled it open and inspected the content. There were three items, a bottle of water, a plastic container with stirred fried noodles that smell divine, and a smaller container with a slice of cake. Didn’t he say the fridge was empty? Where did that come from?

Liliane: A cake?

Grant: You remember the movie night. There’s more if you need it.

I smiled at the screen. He really knew how to make me happy. I pulled the last drawer to retrieve a stainless steel spoon from its clear wrapping. My emergency spoon. It sunk into the soft texture of the cake; I took a bite and the sweetness melted in my mouth. I groaned with pleasure. I held the spoon in my mouth while I texted Grant.

Liliane: Thanks, honey. You make my world a better place.

Grant: I’m getting used to the nickname and it’s a little scary.

Liliane: Pick me up after work. I desperately need a hug.

He didn’t answer. I placed the cake back into the bag after a second bite and checked again. Still, no answer. I sighed and got back to work. Notes left by a person named Bertrand with ugly handwriting summarized the batches he checked. Who was old-school enough to take notes… by hand? My workload has piled up when I was gone. Regrettably, that person only did half of the samples. I winced in frustration.

“Not even capable of doing the job conveniently,” I slammed the notes back on the desk. The door opened without warning. Mr. Ramdin stared down at me with a frown.

“Thank god, Miss. Kerry, you’re back. That Bertrand guy has been messing up my work. I had to rush back and forth to fix his f.u.c.k-ups. Here!” he transferred the data to my screen. A long list of batch numbers appeared. A very long list.

“What?” I winced then spun in my chair towards him.

“Right! I’ve never seen corrupted samples for the ten years I’ve been working here. We need to rerun all of them… and now!” he urged. “I’ll ask someone to wheel them to your office. Expect overtime tonight. We won’t go home until it’s done,” with that he left, leaving the door wide open. Mr. Ramdin wasn’t lying when he said to expect over time. I had to eat lunch at my workstation. The samples kept coming in. I had to check and double-check each of the cargo leaving for the storage room. Delivery was delayed, trucks had to go back cause they couldn’t take in more raw materials. By two pm I texted Grant. Only half of the list of samples were done. I was doomed.

Liliane: I’m sorry, work has piled up I’ll come back later. Like really late.

Grant: Courage, Princess, tell when you will come, will pick you up.

Liliane: thanks, honey. The lunch was great. The cake was great

Grant: happy you like them

Liliane: have to go more work is coming. I will text to let you know.

Grant: Love you, Princess.

Demos: love you

I stared at Demos’ message. My heart squeezed inside my chest. The door opened making me jump, a delivery man wheeled the sealed containers that need my expertise. I got out of my chair to help him. The boxes were heavy and pulling them all day took its toll on my back. At eight pm Mr. Ramdin stopped by my workstation with an instant coffee cup. He leaned against the doorframe as I sipped it.

“I’ve talked to Benedict Dims,” he paused and crossed his arms over his solid chest. “I mean, something was fishy. I never had any issues with you. I still remember the day you rolled in, all pale and slim begging to get a job. I gave you your chance and you never failed me once. I knew I should investigate before filing the report… That’s why I took the time to talk to you,” he pushed away from the door and stared right into my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that Jay Dawson harassed you?” I averted my gaze and put my half-empty cup away.

“I told you I was the victim,” I murmured. He groaned making me focus back on him.

“You did,” he twisted his lips in annoyance. “Get back to work. If anything of this nature ever happens, come report to me, personally. SolTec needs you. You’re a precious asset,” he turned to leave then paused. “If you need a ride home, let me know,” I nodded and got back to the keyboard with a smile. That compliment from Mr. Ramdin gave me a boost. I tackled the remaining twenty samples with fury. At ten past fifteen, the last sample was done. I filed all the data and transferred it to Mr. Ramdin’s office. He approved the order. I texted Grant with a smile.

Liliane: Finished.

Grant: ‘was in the hall waiting for your text. Running to the station. I will arrive shortly.

I grinned at the screen. Someone knocked on the door, making me flinched in my chair. My head sprung in its direction. The door was wide open and Mr. Ramdin stood there with a huge smile. His tie was gone and his shirt was open showing this hairy chest.

“It’s done. The cargo is loaded on the Transfer as we speak. Girl, you really help today!” he let out a throaty laugh. I smiled back; I reached to massage my neck. My back was killing me.

“You want to have a drink?” I slowly looked up at him. “Sorry, Sir. There’s someone coming to pick me up,” he nodded a little disappointed. “Good, get home safely,” he tapped his fingers on the doorframe lingering then he waved me goodbye. I gathered my water bottle and grabbed my bag. The walk to the entrance was unusually long. I swapped my bracelet over the panel by the front door. It beeped. I opened EWink.

Liliane: I’ll wait on the platform

Grant: No, wait at the entrance of the company. Be there in 5 minutes

Liliane: Ok honey. Too tired to argue I’m dying here. Hurry

I stood on the steps leading to the main building. It was a little windy, I pulled my sweater close. Still, the cold air found ways to seep in making me shiver. The headlights of a car facing me in the parking lot flashed twice. I squinted my eyes to see the driver but couldn’t. Its door opened and a silhouette emerged from it. A gray-haired, long-bread man waved at me.

“You’re sure you don’t want a lift?” said the familiar voice. I shook my head squeezing the handle of my lunch bag until my knuckles turned white. Mr. Ramdin was just being polite, I repeated in my head. But gore scenario kept poking out of nowhere. He stood by his car looking in my direction. Why won’t he go away? I heard the loud hiss of the Transfer, as it stopped by the platform. I wanted to run downstairs to the corridor that separated us. Grant will be angry if I put myself in danger. What if it wasn’t them? Quick footsteps hurried from the gloom of the corridor and Grant appeared from it. I rushed to him with a smile but slowed down when I saw the tall shadow behind him. Demos.

“Liliane,” shouted Grant with open arms. I gave him a weak smile. He took me in his arms and twirled me around. Surprised, I gave out a surprised squeal, almost letting go of the bag. When he put me back on my feet, I was gasping for air. My eyes caught a waving hand in the parking lot. I turned and waved back. He got into his car and drove away.

“Who’s that?” they both asked in unison.

“That’s my supervisor, he was checking if I got home safely,” we watched as the car took a turn to reach the highway. I faced Grant and slapped his upper arm. “What was that about? I almost got a heart attack!” his eyes lit up.

“You said you wanted a hug,” he chuckled. I glanced at Demos behind him. His copper gaze was intense. I quickly averted my eyes and pulled Grant by the arm.

“Let’s go, I’m tired,” he nodded and we all headed for the platform.

“I’ve prepared a light soup,” said Grant. I inspected our surroundings, we were the only one waiting for the Transfer. My focus went back to Demos, he leaned against a column his face turned toward the empty tracks.

“Liliane, you shouldn’t treat him like that?” said Grant with a sigh. My head snapped back to him.

“Like what?” I twisted my fingers nervously. He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re ignoring him. You should talk,” I opened my mouth to protest, but straightened up when Demos pushed away from the column.

“The Transfer is coming,” he announced. Minutes later, it was confirmed by the voice on the speaker. The vehicle stopped before us. The trip back was quiet. Jil greeted us with a concerned face.

“You look, terrible Miss. Kerry, are they really taking care of you?” she eyed Demos who went directly to the elevator. “What’s with the big guy?” she tipped her chin at him. Grant shrugged his shoulders.

“Tired, I guess,” she pouted for leaving her out of the fun. I waved her goodbye and joined Demos in the elevator. More oppressing silence ruled in the confined space. My respiration became raspy. Grant stroke my back to help me relax. The first thing I did when I got home, I went straight to a hot shower. Leaving a trail of belongings on the floor. My body, my brain, everything was numb. I crawled to bed, pulling on a large shirt. There was a light knock on the door. Grant peeked in, holding a mug.

“Soup in a mug?” he made it sound like a question. I waved at him to come in. He tiptoed to the bed. I took the mug and settled it on the nightstand.

“I need you,” I groaned. He tilted my head to the side. “Please, my back is killing me,” I crawled away and gave him enough space to sit. The bed creaked as he sunk on top with one foot to the ground, the other bend under him. I turned my back to him, pulling on the shirt to cover my knees.

“Where does it hurt?” he pushed my hair away from my back exposing my neck. The door slammed open making me jump. Demos stood there with his eyes glazing blue.

“What the f.u.c.k did you just think?” I stared at him with shock. Did he just drop an f-bomb? Then I realized he was talking to Grant and slowly turned in his direction. His eyes weren’t his normal silver. He hid his face and pressed his cool forehead on the nape of my neck to prevent me from seeing him.

“Grant, what’s happening?” I tried to turn, but he stopped me by wrapping his arms around me.

“He wanted to bite you!” growled Demos. I stroked his curls, they brushed against my exposed neck tickling me.

“Why?”

“I’m sorry Liliane,” his muffled voice sounded like he was crying.

“Hey, what is that all about? Can you let go, please,” he slowly released me. Demos crossed his arms over this chest, glaring at us. Grant kept hiding his face. I kneeled before him and pulled on his wrists. Even though he looked slim and fragile he was still stronger than me. I couldn’t get him to remove his hands.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered at Grant. He refused to show his face.

“He was planning to…” I held my hand at Demos stopping him in mid-sentence.

“You shut up. I’ll talk to you later,” Demos shifted on his feet fuming. “Grant!” I shouted. He finally pulled away his hands relieving his glowing aquamarine eyes.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” I asked stunt. He opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Talk!” I urged. He took a deep breath, gazed at me with a face full of sadness. His angelic features appeared unreal in the dim light of my room.

“Your brain wave connector is found at the base of your skull,” he paused… and the silence stretched so long I had to ask.

“So?”

“We are your mates if I force you to sync…” his voice trailed off. “I’m sorry. I did mention the pull. The longer we don’t sync, the harder it gets to control, I feel the pull too. We feel lost. I feel the emptiness and worry when you’re not here. I’m…” he squeezed his eyes shut.

“You-you wanted to force me…” his head strung up.

“No!” he shouted in disgust. “It crossed my mind. If Demos didn’t make his dramatic entrance, you wouldn’t even know,” he glared at Demos standing by the door. “I’m sorry. However, I’m still your mate. I understand you think I’m the best friend. Please, remember that I stand on the same level as Demos,” I sighed hugging my head.

“Ok, both of you out. I’m too tired for this,” Grant got to his feet and walked to the door bend under the weight of guilt.

“You said you’ll speak to me later,” added Demos. I pulled on my blanket.

“Not tonight,” I answered without looking at him. At least, we were talking again. That was progressing. He closed the door silently behind him.

“Damn, those two are a handful,” I muttered as I retrieved the soup. “Too bad for the back massage,” I sighed.