I shrug as if it doesn’t matter, not bothering to confirm or deny whether a text was sent. “Well I’m here now,” I answer him as I slide off my jacket, soaked with the rain from outside and hang it on the coatrack.
“You look like shit,” he tells me and an asymmetric grin tilts my lips up.
“Thanks,” I say and face him, running a hand over my hair and wiping off the rain on my jeans. “I’d say I feel better than I look, but that’d be a lie.”
I’ve known James a long time, nearly a decade and I expect him to ask why, even though he already knows. I anticipate him starting the conversation, but instead he says nothing. Avoiding the obvious and walking down the hallway of the townhouse.
My feet move on their own, following him even though adrenaline courses faster in my blood. It makes me feel sick to not talk about it. To not clear the air.
“Whiskey?” he asks me as he pours himself a glass on the right side of a converted dining room. It’s more of a bar now with a long plank of cedar serving as a makeshift counter in the back of the room. The recessed lighting hits the bottles of clear and amber liquids and creates an intimate feel in the room. The only exception to this being a bar is a humidifier full of cigars on the left and a pair of dark leather wingback chairs on either side of it.
“Kane Buchan,” James says and hands me a folder. I’m sure it’s filled with the same shit that was emailed to me. I’ve got the profile memorized. He was the lead singer in a rock band from the Bronx. They had one smash hit and then he split from the rest of them. He decided to go separate ways because he was too good for the band. Most said it was his ego, but it turns out he was right. Three hits on the top charts and now he’s a client.
They all want the same. To flaunt their wealth, get drunk or high. Fuck whoever they want.
“He said something about going to Annabel’s tonight,” James tells me and I nod my head. I’ve been there a time or two. It’s exclusive and ridiculously overpriced, so of course an up-and-coming star wants to be seen there.
They’re all the same. I can see exactly how the night’s going to play out. I just have to keep it clean enough so there are no problems.
“Did you even hear what I said?” James asks me in a raised voice laced with irritation.
“Annabel’s,” I tell him as I look him in the eyes and hope he was still going on about the club.
“No, I said he’s married so make sure there are no pictures if he does something stupid.”
“I know,” I say.
“He’s staying a few days, maybe less depending on what his agent wants. Just keep an eye on him, show him a good time–” He’s pissing me off. Treating me like a new hire and nothing more.
“I know what to do,” I retort and cut James off deliberately. “I’ve been here before.”
I’ve had days to think of how to approach this, but I still hesitate to get everything off my chest.
He huffs a response, something like disbelief and then grabs the tumbler of whiskey from the table. The ice clinks as he takes a sip and then holds it in front of him.
“Buchan’s agent doesn’t need any more press other than what they’ve hired.”
“I want you to know,” I start as I stare him in the eyes, forcing him to listen to what I’m telling him. “I think it was a setup.” Maybe I’m paranoid, but I don’t give a fuck. I have to tell someone. And I’m sure as shit not going to Samantha. “It was an accident, but it just doesn’t seem right. Something’s off.”
He shrugs and says, “I don’t give a shit.”
“I do.” My words come out hard and bitter, but James is already walking away from me. I know if I move an inch, if I even breathe, I’ll beat the piss out of him for leaving this all on me. And risk everything.
Chapter Five
KAT
Saying goodbye is hard, meaning it is harder,
It’s futile to deny what I truly desire.
To fuel the need that runs in my blood,
To tread the fear and not drown in the flood.
I can try to fight it, I can try to run,
But the damage has only just begun.
My eyes feel bloodshot. They burn just from the cool air as I finally sit back down in my office. I’m always here. I never leave this room unless I have to.
And when I do I bring my laptop with me.
Workaholic is a word for it. I’m not sure that even does it justice. I gave up everything for this.
It’s why I came to New York.
It’s why I spent years in the publishing industry, making contacts and creating a brand that’s recognizable. But I do it on my own.
While Evan stayed the same, and carried on with a life that was a fun distraction, I’ve buried myself in work. Growing farther and farther apart from my husband.
Ignored friends … at least I didn’t have family to ignore. Other than Evan.
I rub my eyes again and try to soothe them, but the darkness is all I can see. It begs me to sleep.
I desperately need it. I can’t even read an email right. My meeting with Jacob is next week. I spent an entire hour sitting mindlessly in the coffee shop on my own before I bothered to check the time and date.
At least the coffee was comforting. But the rain was coming down in sheets, and any sense of ease was gone by the time I dragged my ass back home to an empty townhouse.
My shoulders rise and fall as I take another look at the screen. The black and white is too harsh and I almost shut the laptop down and give in to sleep, but my phone goes off, scaring the shit out of me.
Evan.
It’s my first thought and I hate how my heart sinks when I see it’s not him. It’s his father.
In my contact list, it still says Evan’s parents’ house.
It’s the house phone in Evan’s family home.
Marie gave the number to me the night I first saw her, so she could call me about next Sunday’s dinner, all those years ago. Every time I see it, Evan’s parents’ house, I’m reminded that only Henry remains.
It’s not a reminder I welcome. Just the same as the reminder of my own parents’ sudden death in a car crash.
That’s something Evan and I had in common, both of us losing our loved ones so quickly. He still has his father at least, but I’ve had no one for most of my life.
We’d only been seeing each other for a few months when I got the first call from this number. I was expecting for it to be Marie, but it wasn’t his mother making the call, it was Evan because his cell phone had died.
He told me he couldn’t make it to our date, and the first thought I had was that he was breaking up with me. It wasn’t until he apologized that I realized it was something else.
He couldn’t hold it together on the phone. His voice shook and his sentences were short. I’ll never forget that feeling in my chest, like I knew everything was over and there was nothing I could do about it.
There was something in his voice that I recognized. It was how you sound when you’re trying to convince someone else you’re okay, but you’re not. I knew it well.
I got tired of having to convince people. People who didn’t bother to get to know me, because I was just the sad girl at the end of the block. The poor child everyone talked about.
It was why I moved to New York. Living in the small town where your family died isn’t a healthy place for someone who just wants to feel like there’s something else in this world other than the past.
But for Evan it wasn’t what had happened, it was the inevitable that brought him to his weakest moment.
I insisted on seeing him and meeting him at his parents’ place and even though I thought he’d object, he didn’t. He’d never been so passive toward anything like he was that night.
Evan’s only cried twice since I’ve known him.
That night after his mother had finally gone to bed and we went back to his childhood bedroom. And nineteen days later, when she was put in the ground.
“Henry,” I
answer the phone as if nothing’s wrong. My voice is peppy and full of life, even though it’s nearly 10 p.m. and I feel nothing but dead inside.
I squint at the clock on the computer and wonder why he’s calling so late. “Is everything alright?” I ask him, my heart beating slower and a deep fear of loss settling in.
“My favorite daughter-in-law,” Henry greets me and it makes a soft smile bring the corners of my lips up. I even feel the warmth from it.
“Your only daughter-in-law,” I correct him, picking at a bit of fuzz on the sleeve of my shirt.
“Still my favorite,” he says and I give him the laugh that he’s after, even if it is a little short and quiet.
“What’s going on?” I ask him and rest my elbow on the desk, chin in my hand. I absently minimize the document on my screen and clear out all my tabs, checking my email one last time as Henry talks.
“I just wanted to check on you, make sure everything’s good.”
Again, I get the sense that something’s off. “That’s sweet of you,” I answer him but before I can say everything’s fine, he beats me to the real reason he called.
“You two alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I lie and instantly feel like shit. But what am I going to tell him? That right now, I don’t know if my marriage to his son will last? That I’m falling apart and I have no idea how to make this better? That his son is a liar and I hate him for the pain he’s putting me through?
“I spoke to Evan and he said he’s not sure about the holidays coming up,” Henry says as if he’s baiting me. And he is.
The screen of my laptop dims, ridding the room of any light so I hit the space bar and bring it back to life.
“It’s a bit away, but,” I pause and swallow, not knowing how to word it. I don’t have family, so it’s not as if I can use them as an excuse. “Work may be a little much,” I finally breathe the words slowly, giving him a lie I’m sure he knows is exactly that.
“He said you’re going through something.” There’s no bullshit in his voice as he adds, “That you two aren’t doing the best.”
“Did he?” I ask weakly. It’s a betrayal. That’s how I feel hearing that Evan’s told his father what we’re going through. It makes the crack in my heart that much deeper.
It’s not fair that he welcomes so much attention. I don’t need the judgment. Because I don’t want their opinions. I don’t want them to know we’re flawed. I just want us whole again. I wish no one knew so I could silently be the weak wife I am. The one willing to turn a blind eye for the unfaithful man she loves more than herself.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Henry,” I tell him as my eyes close. I can tell the computer has gone into sleep mode again and this time I don’t hit the keys to bring it back to life. The darkness is too comforting.
“I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Henry says clearly into the phone. “You’re my daughter,” he adds and it breaks my composure.
I push away from the desk, the chair legs catching on the rug and nearly tipping over. I walk slowly to the door and then to my bedroom, the phone still to my ear, each step trying to keep it all down. Just going through the motions and trying to be numb to it.
“Thank you,” I tell him, breathing the words as I lean against the bedroom door, closing it and almost tell him, he’s like a father to me.
Almost, but when we do get a divorce, Henry won’t be there for me. It doesn’t matter what he says. It doesn’t matter that I’ll be alone, because that’s how I’ve been most of my life anyway.
“I love you and I’m sorry you two are going through this.” I let Henry’s words echo in my head.
He’s not the only one who’s sorry.
Chapter Six
EVAN
Years of the same can’t be erased or denied.
The past is unforgiving to a wounded pride.
The choices I made will stay to the end.
I’ll pay for my sins, it’s a truth that won’t bend.
The music pounds away, the bass so loud it vibrates my chest. The nightclub is pitch black between bright colorful lights that flash in beat with the music.
“Another!” Kane’s friend Mikey yells on my left, a little too close to my ear for comfort, a little too loud. But I just smile and pretend to take another swig of my beer.
Another time in my life, I’d actually be drinking. I like the feel that I get on the right side of a heavy buzz. That light headiness where you still have control, but not a damn thing matters. That’s the place I craved to be for so long, but not anymore.
It’s been a few hours and so far the job’s been easy. Kane and his friends are trashed and he’s having the time of his life. They’re saddled up to the bar with a few women. One in particular for Kane, which has me on edge and keeping an eye out for the telltale glow of a cell phone in the air, ready to capture a snapshot.
She’s the blonde closest to Kane, Christi she said her name was, and the loudest by far. The more she drinks, the louder she gets, and the closer to Kane.
According to the paperwork, the tall, loudmouthed blonde is his type and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s strayed from his wife. Fame and fortune tend to do it. I’ve seen it too many times to count.
And Kat thinks this is the type of shit I do. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, a scowl marring my face and I know it. I can’t change it so I raise the beer to my lips and take a long swig of it, nearly draining the bottle. She’s never questioned me before, but last night she let out shit I had no idea about. Insecurities and accusations that made me feel like less of a man.
I can’t blame her, can I? Not when I have secrets. Not when I can’t look her in the eyes and tell her I haven’t fucked up.
A strong grip on my arm rouses me from my thoughts.
“Can you get me something?” Kane asks, sidling up next to me. The smell of whiskey assaults me and I almost push him away.
Just like Mikey, he’s a little too close as he slurs his request to the point where I can’t tell what he’s saying.
“What are you looking for?” I ask him and stare at the shine of the half-empty glass bottles of liquor lining the bar.
“Something a little stronger,” he says as he tilts his head and then tries to be subtle, putting his hand to his nose and sniffling. Cocaine.
I hesitate and waver on my answer. Luckily, I don’t have to respond. Instead a loud, high-pitched voice on my right screams out, “We’ve got absinthe!” Apparently the blonde was eavesdropping. Surprise, surprise. Her talons are gripped tight on Kane and I know she’s going to stay within hearing range until we’re out of here, just like she’s been doing since she found out who he is. She’s leaning over a barstool, her breasts on full display and when I look back at Kane, the only thing he’s looking at is her chest.
“Never had it,” Kane says too low and the blonde screams, practically in my ear, “What?!”
I back away a bit, getting out from between the two of them and wait for him to agree. I know he will. She’s got him wrapped around her finger. I’ll do it with a smile on my face and babysit this fucker. I used to think of this differently. This shit used to be fun. But it wasn’t like this, was it?
It doesn’t take more than one girly laugh from the blonde to convince Kane that absinthe is good enough and that we should all head to her place.
It’s two blocks down and up a set of iron rails to get to the apartment. The sidewalk’s still wet and this late at night, there’s no one on the streets. Just a bunch of drunk assholes stumbling on their way home. We fit in perfectly. I keep my eyes ahead, but occasionally look back and in all directions casually.
I follow them as Kane and his friend follow the group of women. There are three of them, two blondes and a dark brunette with curls, each barely covered in skimpy clubwear as they grip the railing to the apartment stairs and laugh as they stumble their way up in heels that clank against the iron grid floor.
Kane’s hands are all over
Christi, moving from her hips to her ass as he walks behind her. Mikey’s into the other blonde and the brunette’s checked out, only interested in smoking weed and getting trashed.
At one point, I thought this was fun.
I tolerated the attention and flirting, but after a few minutes of ignoring the women, they always lost interest and moved on to the next. Somehow it always gave me a thrill, but there’s nothing about this night that gives me any pleasure. I just want to get back to Kat and make her take it all back. Make her forget what happened and remind her why we’re meant to be together. Remind her why she’s mine.
I don’t want this life anymore. I can’t take this shit.
Not when it makes Kat doubt me and what we have. Rightfully so.
As the girls laugh and the door opens, I take my phone out of my pocket, peeking up to make sure none of the girls have theirs out.
No pictures.
That’s my second concern. The first is getting Kane and getting out of here. He’s had a good time; he’ll remember enough of it at least. I’m not interested in being here any longer than I have to be.
I’m distracted for only a moment. Half a second, but the moment I stop watching these girls, one of them breaks rule number one.
The second the blonde on the right pulls out her iPhone, turning and posing with her friend and Kane in the background, I snatch it from her. She gasps and tries to grab it back like this is a game and I’m making a move on her. Her smile widens and she lets out a small laugh, again trying to snatch it from me.
It takes her a minute to realize no matter how much she pulls on my arm and makes that girlish cry, I have no intention of giving it back.
“No pictures,” I tell her simply, my voice low and admonishing and my expression hard. I don’t have time for this shit or her antics. She knows what she’s doing and it’s not cute or funny.
I force myself to stare into her drunken hazel gaze until she looks down and then holds out her hand for it. The flirtation completely gone. “I get it,” she snaps.
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 117
