5YESTERYEARS' CHRISTMAS WEDDING
Chapter 1
(Business as Usual)
December 13, 2009
Uptown Minneapolis
The shrill buzzing of the alarm clock broke the silence, jostling Douglas Rancouve from the fitful sleep he'd finally drunk himself into. Dragging himself into a sitting position, he rubbed his face with his hands, wincing when his week-old whiskers scraped against the flesh of his palm.
His room was a mess, he thought as he surveyed the bedroom of the condominium he had rented a few years ago when he had moved to Minneapolis. His clothes were scattered on the floor, and the air smelled stale with the empty cartons of fast-food that littered everywhere. He remembered the effort the designer had put into poshing up the place, and he figured the expensive "Camel Starburst" wallpaper and auburn carpeting, along with the wooden furniture and fixtures in his apartment were all put to good waste.
Damn, he muttered, scratching his head as he felt the full impact of the drinking spree he had last night. He wasn't really an alcoholic drinker, but it had been a celebratory occasion for his company, and his staff had dragged him off to party somewhere. He regretted it now as he stumbled towards the medicine cabinet in his bathroom and got two aspirins. He filled a glass with tap water and drank it in one go, his stomach queasing uncomfortably.
He wasn't sure why, but December always made him cranky. He didn't care much for the harsh bite of winter, and he had a hard time keeping up with the pile of work that usually flocked his desk at this time of the year. Not to mention the flood of advertisements and empty greetings he received in his email address; Christmas sure wasn't his cup of tea.
He studied his face in the bathroom mirror, his blue eyes probing into the dark haired and shaggy man in the reflection. There were bags under his eyes, and his whiskers were on the verge of becoming a full-grown scraggly beard. God, I look old. He wasn't very keen on physical appearances, but it was past time he did something about his face.
He swore when he nicked his chin with the razor, the white foam of the shaving cream turning pinkish. Gingerly, he finished washing his face and set about on finding a clean and ironed shirt for work.
"Morning, Pooch! It must be below zero out there, perfect for a snowball fight, eh?" Clancy's greeting was as jovial as ever. The thin man waved at him, his eyes sparkling merrily behind his spectacles. Sometimes Douglas envied the younger man's ability to see everything on the lighter side of life.
He closed the glass door, the bell tinkling merrily as if in cue with the season. As he shook off the ice that had clung to his coat and shoes, he glanced around the old-fashioned office he had established nearly a decade ago, and he felt the same sense of satisfaction as he took in the wood-paneled surroundings and neat desks. He nodded approvingly when he noticed that the computers had been upgraded - the monitors changed to LCD screens.
"Here ya go, boss." Clancy handed him a Styrofoam cup, warm to the touch. The smell of freshly made coffee wafted strongly from the rim. Douglas accepted it, taking a sip and feeling more human immediately. He walked to the far end of the room and entered his own separated office. Clancy followed suit, making himself comfortable as Douglas hung his coat on a hook.
"You look spruced up," Clancy observed, leaning against the desk while Douglas checked the messages left on his desk. "You got a date later, Pooch?"
"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"Man, you're cold!"
Douglas tolerated his employee's jibe. His staff was only composed of nine people, and excluding himself, most were young adults who still lacked in the maturity department.
"Are you done with the candy shop ad project?" Douglas asked, veering the subject from his private life to a much safer topic. "The deadline is tomorrow."
"Oh, about that, Pooch. Yeah, I'm done with the layout, but I've been thinking of trying a new effect I developed for the background. If it's alright with you." Clancy's voice was hopeful.
"You may give it a try. But keep in mind that if the end project turns out to be a failure, I'm taking a deduction from your pay."
"Oh, man!"
After Clancy left his office, Douglas sat down, reveling in the temporary peace and quiet. When he had drained the contents of his coffee cup, he leaned back against his chair, listening for the clanging of the bell that would announce the arrival of his other employees.
The morning flew by in a hectic flurry of activities. RCouve's Computer Designs was a small company, but it had its own share of loyal customers gained through the years. Douglas was browsing the list of assignments when Bob, another one of his employees, knocked on his door to catch his attention.
"Pooch, this project just came in," he announced, holding up a red folder between his stubby fingers.
"What's it about, Bob?" Douglas motioned to his table, and Bob placed the file there.
"I'm not sure 'cause I didn't look 'cause you always said to bring these kinda things straight to ya, Pooch," Bob replied with a shrug, lowering his balding head in apology, "Helga always told me to mind my own business, see…"
Douglas winced inwardly as Bob began on one of his monologues about the virtues of his self-proclaimed saintly wife Helga. Bob was a great guy to have at work, but when alone together he couldn't seem to help but annoy the hell out of Douglas.
"Thanks, Bob," Douglas interrupted, "I'll take it from here."
When Bob was gone, Douglas immediately opened the folder, curious.
He almost laughed out loud when he read the name of the company embellished on the first page. Rugged, Inc.! He'd been trying for the past year to become the designer for the printed and media ads of their clothing selection. He'd met with their CEO on a few occasions, but there hadn't been any good response.
He had put that matter in the back of his mind when he hadn't received any news, so he was pleasantly surprised to see that Rugged was finally taking him up on his offer. He let out a deep breath, relieved that his company was now on its way to somewhere, at last.
Douglas chuckled to himself, feeling a rare sense of achievement because of this big break for his company. He called it his company, but most of his associates were actually dear friends who had tried their hardest to lend him a helping hand when he had lost himself at those dark points in his life. His thoughts wandered back to the past, and he mentally slapped himself. It was no use dwelling on the past now, the important thing was that he had survived and was still surviving. If RCouve's Computer Design was able to land this one perfectly, there would be a lot more opportunities that would open up to them in the future.
He was flipping through the file, ideas for the ads that he would make forming in his mind, when a name on the white sheet caught his eye and held it there.
A prickle of apprehension crept up his spine as he read the name Rumina Brook in the column under the list of coordinating members who would help with the production. He blinked hard, staring at the black prints, aware that his breathing had become shallow. Ami?
He remembered everything so vividly then - coming home tired that one night and finding the wedding invitation in his mailbox. He hadn't opened the letter, but the one glance that he took at the envelope seemed to have frozen in his mind. Mayings-Brook, it had stated in loopy cursive writing. Two simple words adjoined with a hyphen that he couldn't erase from his mind even until now.
But most of all, he remembered Rumina - Ami, as he called her in his own special way. He remembered her slender and petite form, her black hair which fell past her shoulders, her simple features and her soft voice.
Douglas sighed raggedly, raking his hands through his dark brown hair. He willed the decade-old memories to disappear. How long had it been? Seven years. It shouldn't really matter to him anymore if they knew each other before - this was business.
He slumped back and gave in to the childish temptation to swivel his chair in a 180 degree turn. He swiveled furiously, not hearing the racket of squeaks until someone knocked questioningly on his door.
Douglas stopped then, and swore.
Ah, hell, he muttered as he contemplated the meeting scheduled for the next afternoon. I am so tired.
to be continued.
A/N: You might say that this chapter has a slow pace. Anyway, as always, I'll be glad to see your comments, criticisms, and advice. Happy holidays to everyone, thanks for reading!