CHAPTER 9: A SPANNER IN THE WORKS

Michael walked into his office. His gait had a little bounce to it. He had just had lunch with Ellen again, just the two of them. It hadn’t progressed much further than that but he wasn’t complaining. Well, not for the time being anyway. He was happy with the way things were. They were meeting regularly for lunch. And occasionally, dinner. He enjoyed her company tremendously. Hmm...I think she enjoys mine too. I hope she enjoys mine too. She must or she won’t agree to having lunch or dinner with me. But then again, she could just be entertaining me for the sake of entertaining me, he worried. Mentally shaking himself, he shrugged that thought off. Oh whatever, I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, I’m over the moon. I can’t remember ever having so much fun, he mused.

“I’m happy, I’m feeling glad. I’ve got sunshine in a bag...” he sang happily as he opened the door to his room. “Natasha,” he exclaimed in surprise. Oh shit, I forgot all about Natasha.

“Hello Michael,” she said coldly. “I thought you said you were too busy to have lunch today.”

Caught entirely by surprise, Michael just stood there dumb-founded. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Natasha stared at him, her eyes unwavering and unrelenting, waiting to hear his explanation. None came. Michael gingerly averted his eyes from her stare.

“Erm, honey. I’m a bit busy now. Why don’t we do dinner tonight?” Michael said as he walked towards his desk, hoping to change the subject.

Natasha pursed her lips and glared at him. “Who’s the bitch?”

Another shock hit Michael. He spun around and gaped at Natasha. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not stupid, Michael. You’ve been avoiding me for close to two weeks now. And we haven’t even had...you know what...for...for like...for as long as that!” she screamed. “Who’s the bitch you’ve been seeing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael denied. “There is no 'bitch' as you put it. I’ve just been real busy. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“Oh, so I’m paranoid, am I? Another second and you’ll be saying I’m delirious and going mad,” she sneered.

“Look,” Michael tried to reason. “Don’t go jumping to unnecessary conclusions, okay? I’ve just been real busy at work, that’s all. Why don’t you go relax and do some shopping or go back home and we’ll have dinner tonight,” he said as he guided her towards the door.

Natasha stood outside glaring daggers at the door or rather at the person behind the door as soon as Michael had gone back into his room. She clenched her fist tightly, her fingers digging into her palm. Turning her heel, she strode commandingly out of the office without so much as another glance behind her.

It was only in her car that she let out her fury. Slamming her fists hard against the steering wheel, she let out a huge scream as she recalled her meeting yesterday.

“Miss Yang, I believe you would be interested in these.”

The man carefully placed a stack of photographs on the table in front of her. Natasha reached for them hesitantly. She wanted to know yet she didn’t want to know. Then again, if she didn’t want to know, she wouldn’t have hired a private investigator in the first place. And that was what the man in front of her was. A private investigator. Hired by her to find out why her darling Michael had been avoiding and neglecting her. As Natasha flipped through each photo, her anger mounted. There was her beloved Michael with another woman. Her beloved Michael, smiling away, obviously having a really good time. With another woman. Where have I seen her before? Natasha wondered. She does look rather familiar. How dare she think she can steal my Michael away from me. Steal? Natasha frowned as she looked at the photos again. She’s that thief, that’s who she is! That thief who stole my bracelet!

She had gone to look for him today, hoping to get an explanation. But he had denied everything. He had said she was delusional. Okay, maybe those weren’t his exact words but he sure did hint at it, she fumed. But maybe I am over-reacting. Maybe there’s a perfectly good explanation for all this. But if there is, why didn’t he tell me just now? No, he was clearly avoiding the subject. She reached into her bag and pulled out the photos to look at again. Huh! What am I thinking, she scoffed. There’s absolutely no competition here. I mean, look at her. Gosh, what a plain jane. Booooorinnng, Natasha consoled herself. Yup, I’m just jumping to unnecessary conclusions. Michael is mine. Always and forever will be. Unless of course I tire of him. Not the other way around. And anyway, we’re having dinner tonight. So all will be fine. No competition, no competition at all.

Just then her mobile phone rang. Natasha peered at the screen. It was Michael. She recomposed herself before answering it.

“Hi darling,” she said in her sweetest voice possible.

“Erm, Natasha. Look, I know I said we’d do dinner tonight but something came up. I can’t make it, I’m sorry,” Michael told her.

The smile faded from Natasha’s face. “I see,” she said.

“I may be home late too,” Michael continued.

Natasha gritted her teeth. “Uh huh,” she mumbled.

“I’ll see you later tonight then. Bye,” he added before hanging up.

Michael fidgeted with his fingers nervously. I hope she buys that, he thought. What happened was that not long after Natasha had left his office, Ellen had called.

“Hey Michael, remember how you said you were looking for that particular edition of The Sandman? I found it and I bought it for you. What are you doing tonight? Do you want to meet up? I could pass it to you then,” Ellen blabbered excitedly over the phone.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Michael had agreed. When he remembered his earlier date with Natasha, it was already too late. He ran his fingers through his hair. Gosh, what a dilemma. Natasha or Ellen? Natasha or Ellen? he thought as he paced up and down in his room. What to do? What to do? Oh well, I guess there’s only one thing to do, he decided as he picked up his phone and dialed Natasha’s number.

Natasha threw her mobile phone violently down on the seat next to her. Her eyes glanced at the photographs next to it and she picked one up. Her blood boiled as she looked at the smiling and laughing faces of Michael and the other woman. Crushing the photo in her fists, she swore retaliation.

“Michael is mine. Nobody’s but mine. And there is no way I’m letting you have him, you thief...” Natasha let out an evil laugh as she stepped on the accelerator and zoomed off with a screech.

“Oh oh,” Reaper remarked as she looked over Spyda’s shoulder at the threads on the screen.

Spyda nodded. “Yup. Oh, oh.”

“Should we tell Chance?” Reaper asked.

Spyda grinned mischievously. “Not yet. Not just yet.”