Sunnyside (a Sebastian Stan story)

Separate Ways

    Three days passed. I lost three more contracts. With every termination, a new crack appeared in my armor. I was putting on a decent face, I thought, but I wasn't going to be able to keep it up. There was no way I could keep my new hires; I tried everything- the numbers just didn't work. Barry and I sat in my office, no noise but the humming of fluorescents overhead, staring at my computer.

From time to time he sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, but neither of us could bring ourselves to say it. That we were done. That Sunnyside Services as we knew it wouldn't survive at this rate. It just hovered between us.

Finally the quiet got to be too much for me. "I'm so sorry, Barry. I really screwed us over here."

He turned his head slowly to meet my eyes. "You did nothing. Nothing, okay?"

He reached out his arms and I gladly fell into them, letting him coo over me.

"I trusted her. I was careless. I ignored Sebastian when he said he didn't trust her..."

"How could you possibly have known she was going to publish that article?"

I'd called Sam for the last time the day before. The lawyers Bonnie had hired told me that from that point forward, everything needed to go through them, and I was more than happy to give up my fruitless attempts to call my former best friend. Her lawyer, and her publication's lawyers had a limited amount of time to respond to mine, and so far there hadn't been much progress. Just an acknowledgement that action was being taken.

I hadn't been able to work up the courage to call Sebastian again. I'd left him a message letting him know what had really gone down. I'd apologized for letting it happen. I'd told him that I missed him but understood if he didn't want to call me back, and that my lawyers would probably call his soon. Then I'd cried again.

****

A recording of my voice. Just a few seconds of audio, with no context, presented by itself with no accompanying paperwork. That was all it had taken for Sam's boss to send her story to press. It was flimsy and not at all acceptable, legally speaking. Sam was desperate and her boss obviously unscrupulous.

"Yes! Let's do the interview!" My own words rang through my head, bouncing off one side of my skull and boring it's way through my brain to the other. Words I had spoken, true, but not as permission. In my memory, I saw Sam's phone spinning as she set it down, and how quickly she had picked it up and stuffed it into her purse not a minute later.

Iz swore loudly and at length when I called to tell her about Sam's recording. "They can't get away with that. There's no way."

I cradled the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I tried to scrub away an imaginary film apparently clinging to my kitchen sink. It wasn't really dirty, but it was keeping my hands occupied.

"No, they can't. They're in more trouble than they can get out of."

"Take them for all they're worth, Pooh."

I sighed. "I don't even care about money. Except maybe to save Sunnyside. This has destroyed my business on top of my relationship."

"Emotional distress. Pain and suffering. Actual financial damage. Take them. For all. They're worth."

"Emotional distress." I laughed bitterly. It was something I had practically waltzed into by not taking Sebastian's feelings and intuition into account. I was angry at myself. I was angry at him. I was sad.

Mostly I was sad.

"Don't do that," Iz said. "Don't put this on yourself like that. I know that's what you're doing."