Determination

by S. E. Rose

  “Can I get you anything, Mr. Ryder?” Irma asks as she smiles warmly at me.

  “Just a bottle of…” I realize she has already placed a bottle of water at my table. I shake my head.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Very good. Please let me know if you need anything,” she says and scurries away into the galley of my jet.

  About the same time that I pop open my bottle of water, I see an email pop up and it’s Rick telling me that I’ll be staying one night in LA on the way home to meet with the officials for the company that I want to buy. I groan. I’d stopped there on my way out here and didn’t have any intentions of returning so soon.

  “Sir, I just received a change to our flight plan,” Adam says as he comes out of the cockpit.

  “Yep, just got it from Rick. That’s fine, Adam,” I assure him. He walks back into the cockpit and closes the door.

  I look out the window as the plane takes off, and I watch the bungalows at the hotel get smaller as we gain altitude. I look at the calendar on my phone and count out sixty days and place a small note to be here. I know Vanessa is down there somewhere, and I can’t help thinking of her as I close my eyes and fall asleep.

  Chapter 7

  Jesse’s Playlist: “Au Revoir” by OneRepublic

  The next few days fly by as I meet with the executive for a small company that is revolutionizing vineyard tourism in SoCal. I’ve been interested in vineyards and viticulture for some time and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to begin acquiring companies within that realm. One of my recent game plans is to buy a vineyard and move there for retirement someday, but I haven’t figured out where I would want to purchase.

  After intense negotiations for two days, the company finally agrees to a buyout. I pay slightly more than I wanted to, but in the end, I feel it will pay for itself. Fortunately, I’m so slammed with meetings that I don’t have time to contemplate anything except business. My vacation is quickly forgotten, and I’m back in my zone.

  When I finally arrive at JFK, I’m greeted by my driver, Gianni. He’s a little old Italian guy, who used to be a boxer after a brief stint in the military. He’s about sixty now, and he’s all NYC.

  “Mr. Ryder,” Gianni says as he tips his head at me.

  “Hey, Gianni. How’s Lillian?” I ask him as I climb into the car.

  “She’s wonderful. Thanks for asking. I think she left you a little something back there.”

  I glance around and see a tin on the seat next to me. I open it and immediately the car is filled with the scent of homemade cookies. Lillian, Gianni’s wife, is an amazing cook and baker. She’s always sending me food. In fact, she is how I met Gianni. When I first bought my apartment in NYC, a friend told me about this old-school Italian bakery that I had to visit. One day, I went out to Brooklyn and found this place. I started going there twice a week for cappuccino and cookies. Lillian and I got to talking and one thing led to another and pretty soon Gianni was my driver. Gianni even comes down to D.C. with me on occasion. It helps that his son lives in Northern Virginia with his wife and two kids. Sometimes when I’ve been traveling, I let Gianni and Lillian stay at my place, so they can visit and not inconvenience their kid, Tony. Tony’s a cool guy who’s only a few years younger than me. They all treat me like family, and I’ve enjoyed being an honorary member.

  I peruse my emails as Gianni drives me to my apartment. I have a few from Hank regarding his efforts to thwart the attempts to break into the Ryder Enterprises’ servers. The attempts are getting more malicious, more desperate as the weeks go on, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to get worried. So far, Hank hasn’t figured out who’s trying to break in, but he has set up some new firewalls and security measures. I sigh, knowing that I may have to consider security for myself sooner rather than later. Gianni’s voice breaks my thoughts.

  “So, how was LA?”

  “Good. I think I’ll be able to close the deal on that company by next week.”

  “That’s great news. You thinking about getting a west coast place?”

  I shrug. “Don’t know. I haven’t thought much about that yet.”

  “Well, let me know. I have a cousin who does real estate in Orange County.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. Gianni always knows someone. I internally roll my eyes as he pulls up to my apartment building. It’s a fairly straightforward building on the Upper West Side. I have the penthouse, which was tough to come by in this area and cost me a small fortune. There’s a co-op in the building, which annoys me to no end. For now, it works; however, I have plans to buy a building on the Upper East Side or perhaps go off the island and over to Brooklyn. My niece and her husband have a nice place in SoHo, and I’ve contemplated buying in their neighborhood. My current location is convenient to my office and really anything that makes my life easier, is a good thing.

  I walk inside as Harry, the doorman, opens the doors for me.

  “Good day, Mr. Ryder,” he says.

  I nod at him. “Hey, Harry.”

  The concierge, Roberto, greets me as well and already has called the elevator for me. I walk straight inside and slide my card and press my passcode. The elevator soars up to the top floor. The penthouse is on the 17th and 18th floor. The elevators open into a small vestibule and then a set of double doors leads to my home. I unlock my door and call out to see if my cleaning lady is still there.

  “Evelyn?” I ask.

  “Yes, Mr. Ryder,” she calls out from the kitchen. “I have a meal ready for you, sir.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  Evelyn is a sweet, old lady. Like most of my closest staff she’s over the age of fifty, hell, she’s over the age of sixty, but she’s amazing at keeping my home organized and her cooking skills are exceptional, bar none.

  I eat at the breakfast bar and catch up with Evelyn. She’s like a grandmother to me. Yeah, it’s nice to be doted on once in a while.

  “So how was your impromptu vacation?” she asks me as she clears my plate.

  “It was good,” I answer, checking my phone for emails for the tenth time since I entered my home.

  “Were you out there all by yourself?”

  I look up at her. She’s prying, and she knows it.

  “I made plenty of friends. It was a nice stay,” I answer.

  “Oh, Jesse, you met someone,” she coos, and claps her hands together.

  “Evelyn,” I chide.

  She grins and pats my hand. “What’s her name?”

  “Vanessa.”

  “Is she American?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you’ll see her again?”

  I shrug.

  “Do you want to see her again?”

  I shrug.

  “Tsk, tsk. You can’t fool me,” she says as she places a coffee down in front of me.

  “Oh,” she continues. “I meant to ask you. Did you forget to arm the alarm system when you left?”

  I scrunch my eyes together as I try to remember. “No, I armed it, why?”

  Evelyn frowns. “Well, when I came in last week to clean, it wasn’t on. I thought maybe in your haste to leave you forgot to arm it.”

  “No. Did I get any packages? Maybe Harry or Roberto came in and forgot?” I say.

  “No, not that I’ve seen,” she says, clearly worried now. “I mean, nothing looks out of place to me.”

  “I’ll have a look around and call the security company in the morning,” I say, trying to reassure her.

  “Oh, Jesse. I do wish you’d agree to more security. You worry me, up here all alone.”

  “Evelyn, really, I’m fine.” I roll my eyes as I take my coffee into my study.

  I sit down and turn my computer on and look around. Nothing seems out of place. I shake my head, knowing there are a thousand logical explanations of why the alarm wasn’t on when Evelyn came here. My computer boots up, and I go to my favorite news webpage to catch up on the latest. I glance at the political and
sports news. I read a few tech news articles, and then I happen to glance down at the entertainment section. There’s a photo of Vanessa. I click on the link.

  “Vanessa Tourney Seen at LAX Returning from Her Hiatus Following Stalker Episode”–the headline catches my attention even further, and I begin to read. It seems Vanessa returned a few days early. There’s a lot of speculation why that is, but no conclusive facts. I look down at my phone. We never exchanged numbers, but I still have Kev on Find Friends. I can see he’s in LA right now, in a rather posh part of town. I could track down her number, it wouldn’t be difficult. I decide it’s best not to stalk Vanessa, either she’ll show up in eight weeks or she won’t, I have better things to do till then, I tell myself.

  I fall asleep that night reading a book that I had started my first day on Moorea. I dream of Vanessa that night, her eyes, her hair, the way she smells. I wake with a start, sitting up and looking around, looking for her. I throw my head back down on the pillow.

  My phone buzzes. I look down to see a text from Rick.

  Rick: So…how do you feel about going back to SoCal?

  Jesse: Why?

  Rick: I may have committed you to a fundraising gala in vino country… (smiley emoji)

  Jesse: When?

  Rick: In one week.

  Jesse: Ugh. Send me the details.

  Rick: Will do.

  I roll over and groan. I knew buying a company in LA would mean I had to start devoting some time out there, but honestly, I didn’t expect to be launched into a West Coast schedule immediately. I sigh and go to shower.

  My days seem to creep by slowly. I go from meeting to meeting, email to email. I want to check on her, to see what she’s doing, but I refrain from creeping on the internet.

  “So how was your vacation?” my sister asks as I video chat with her before a meeting.

  “It was fine,” I answer.

  “Fine?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “So, what’s fine’s name?” she asks. I roll my eyes. Why the fuck does everyone know I met someone?

  “Very funny, asshat.”

  “Jesse, I’m serious,” Laura says, giving me her best serious big sister look. I laugh.

  “Don’t worry about it, sis.”

  “Fine, if you’re going to be so obtuse, forget it. I have things to do.”

  “Come on, don’t be bitchy.”

  “Jesse, if you were physically here right now, I would kick your ass.”

  I smile at her. “Right.”

  “I would definitely try to kick your ass.”

  I ponder that statement. “OK.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I gotta go. Are you going to come to Mom’s seventieth birthday party? You never RSVP’d.”

  “Of course, wait, when is it?”

  She huffs. “It’s in four weeks.”

  “Yes, email the details to Rick.”

  “I already did.”

  “Then you should know that I’ll be there.”

  “Whatever.”

  “How are the kids?”

  “Fine.”

  “Grandkids?”

  “Smart-ass.”

  I smirk at her.

  “Your great-nieces and nephew are fine.”

  “Touché.”

  “Later, Jesse.”

  “Peace out, Girl Scout.”

  My days continue to completely blur together. I know I’m working crazy hours, but I’m fixated on finishing this deal with the company in California. I read over contracts, consult attorneys, rework numbers with my accountants and then rinse and repeat. Meanwhile, I have to put out a media fire at one of my other companies and my niece’s husband, Lance, has been bugging me to meet with some potential folks to work on a new project related to an app he desperately wants to launch. And just to top off things, Hank has shown me some of the chinks in my server armor, and it isn’t good. I’m about to cut some major checks for server security upgrades.

  I’m so busy, I start forgetting things or at least where things are. Monday, I come home and can’t find where I left a contract. Evelyn finds it in a desk drawer. Tuesday, I have to look three times to find my favorite Mont Blanc pen which I always leave in my middle drawer but for some reason I left it on the desk. By Wednesday, I’m a mess and leave my home computer on and open to some secured documents. Thursday, I leave my file drawer unlocked, and I begin to question my sanity.

  “I have your tux pressed and packed, Mr. Ryder,” Evelyn says Friday morning as I go to leave for work.

  “My tux?” I ask, completely confused.

  “You’re leaving in the morning for LA, remember?” she says softly, giving me her concerned face.

  “Oh, right. Sorry, busy week. Thanks,” I mutter and head out to my waiting car and Gianni’s incessant questioning about some ball tickets I gave him. I decide to drown him out and check social media. I scan down and a news story about Vanessa pops up, Vanessa and Nat Richards. I immediately click on the link. According to a source, they are back together. My hand trembles as I hold my phone. This shouldn’t bother me, no strings attached, just a fun vacation, but dammit, I’m really fucking pissed off about this.

  I stew all morning. By lunchtime, I’m in a completely crazy, jealous rage. I yell at Rick when he texts me from outside my office to come meet with potential security firms. Rick meets with them instead. At 1:00 p.m., I decide to invite an old fling, Meredith Banker, to accompany me to the gala. They’ll be paps there, and I know I’ll get photographed with her. Perhaps, I can send a clear message back to Ms. Tourney through the press.

  I text Meredith, and she all but jumps at the invitation. Typical, I think to myself. Meredith is a gold digger. She’s hot as fuck and smart too, and she was fun for a few weeks last summer, but I have zero interest in her. However, for my current purposes, she’ll do. I text Rick to arrange for Meredith to meet me at the jet in the morning and then sit back in my seat and stare out at the NYC skyline. I’m still fuming, but I’ll get over it. Maybe.

  Chapter 8

  Jesse’s Playlist: “Light It Up” by OneRepublic

  Meredith meets me at the jet at 9:00 a.m. the next morning. She looks lovely in a long flowing dress and cardigan. Her nails are done, her hair is perfect, her teeth are perfect. She’s a million other guys’ wet dream, but not mine. I’ve seen the shallow wench that hides beneath all that façade.

  She leans in and kisses my cheek before boarding the plane. “I’m so pleased you thought to invite me, Jesse,” she coos as she makes herself comfortable in a chair facing a small table. She pats the chair next to her, but I take the seat across from her instead.

  “Well, sorry it was last minute, but I’ve had a busy week and didn’t have time to ask Rick to set it up,” I say nonchalantly. “I appreciate you accompanying me. I hate attending these events solo.”

  “I remember.” She smirks. I took her to several galas when we dated last summer. By the end of our month together, she was naming our kids and picking out beach houses.

  “What have you been up to?” I ask her, making polite conversation as I get my laptop out of my bag.

  “Oh, this and that. Mostly charity work,” she says. Her father owns a company I did business with last year and he “employs” her in their marketing division. Mostly she just plays house at the apartment he bought her.

  “Well, thanks again for doing this,” I say as I try to figure out how to make it clear that this is not a date weekend.

  “Sure, Jesse. It’s good to see you,” she says as she bats her lashes at me.

  I internally groan and try to spend the next few hours engrossed in work. Meredith does her best to distract me, but after three hours of attempts, she finally gets the message and goes to the back of the plane to lie down.

  I send Irma to wake her as we land. Irma shoots me an interesting look, and I shrug. She shakes her head and continues on with her work. Why, oh, why do my employees all see right through me? Oh right, because I hire amazingly insightful people
. Meredith takes her seat and gives me a smile, I return it and then go back to my computer.

  We get to our hotel near the vineyard, and I go straight to my room. Meredith, of course, looks thoroughly disappointed that we aren’t sharing a room. I toss her the keys, and a bellboy takes her bags.

  Once inside my room, I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I really, really want to talk to Vanessa, but who am I kidding. That’s over. I just can’t wrap my head around it. She didn’t seem like the type of woman to jump straight from one guy to the next. Our conversations seemed, well, real, and she seemed real. Maybe I was just blind. Maybe I was looking for something so hard that I saw it even when it wasn’t there. Maybe I’m a mental case.

  I get up and head to the shower before changing into my tux for tonight’s gala. I leave my jet on standby to fly back the following day. This will be a short trip, and with Meredith here, I’m thankful of that.

  I meet Meredith in the lobby, and she does look like a solid ten. She’s wearing a beautiful emerald-green gown that brings out the red in her otherwise mahogany hair. Her blue eyes sparkle and are coated with a ridiculous amount of eyeliner. However, she looks like she could walk straight off a runway. I internally thank my dad for giving me the genetic gift of height, because Meredith in heels is probably 5’10” and I at least have her beat by a good few inches.

  We take the waiting car to the vineyard. Montagne Rose Vineyard is a beautiful place. It’s located in a hilly property in between San Diego and LA. It’s not Napa, but it’s charming and the tasting room has a large area for the gala and opens up into a giant tent set up for the event. The evening sun is setting as we arrive and the rosy colors besetting the name of the vineyard highlight the hills of vines surrounding us. It’s breathtaking, and I enjoy the sight for a few moments as we make our way inside.

  There’s a dinner in the tent, followed by a charity auction, and then dancing in the open atrium of the main building. Meredith and I take our seats and greet our fellow tablemates, two couples from LA, one a well-known attorney and his wife and the other a movie producer and his current girlfriend. We discuss pleasantries like the weather and the beautiful property as we eat our meal. Thankfully, the event is very prompt, and the auction starts just as dessert is served.