“Double,” I answer her with a nod and slip my cell phone out from my jacket pocket. I’ve only been gone from the office for two hours, but I’ve got a dozen emails waiting for my attention. A huff of a grunt leaves me as a text from Liam pops up.
You coming out tonight?
Already out, I answer him as the glass hits the polished bar top and Patricia slides it over to me.
My phone pings as I lift the tumbler to my lips and let the cool liquor burn all the way down, warming my chest.
Where at?
I contemplate telling him. I like Liam. A lot. If I had any friends, he’d be one of them. But and after talking to my father today, I don’t want to be around a damn soul.
A sarcastic laugh makes me grin as I realize I’ve come to a crowded bar to be alone. It’s the truth, though. You’re always surrounded by people in this city; there’s never a place to hide unless it’s in plain sight.
I down the rest of my drink and tap the heavy glass against the bar top as I consider what to tell him. That’s when I hear it. Almost as if daring me to stay alone any longer, it’s the gentle sound of a feminine laugh. It’s genuine and it rings out clear in the bar even though it’s soft.
It’s a soothing sound, a calming force in the chaos that surrounds us. Everything around me fades except for the woman who uttered that sweet sound.
The smooth glass stays still as I look down the bar in search of her.
The rest of the crowd doesn’t seem to notice as they continue with whatever the hell they’re saying and doing, but my eyes are drawn to my left. Through the throng of people, I just barely get a glimpse of her.
Dark brunette hair that’s pulled back; pale skin covered in black lace.
A man at the opposite end leans away from the bar, digging in his back pocket for his wallet and giving me a clear view of her.
Those dark red lips attract my gaze first. She licks her bottom lip before picking up a large glass of deep red wine. The color matches her lips perfectly. She smiles at something and her shoulders shake as she laughs, making the dark liquid swirl in her glass and bringing a blush to her high cheekbones.
She tosses her hair to the side and her fingers tease the ends as she brings her tendrils over one shoulder, wrapping them around her finger while she sips her wine.
It’s when she looks away from whomever she’s been giving her attention to that my curiosity is piqued.
Without their eyes on her, her expression morphs into something else. I finally see her eyes, the lightest of blues, and that’s when I really see her. Not just the image of what she’s portraying.
Pain is clear as day.
It’s the lie though, how fucking good she was at hiding it, that’s what really gets me. Even I was fooled.
People can hide behind a smile or a laugh; every soul in here can pretend to be someone and something they’re not.
The truth is always there though and I’m damn good at recognizing it. Your eyes can never hide two things: age and emotion. Hers speak to me in a way nothing else can.
But had I never looked just then when she thought no one was watching, she never would have shown me willingly.
She straightens her back and I see her profile, her expression. The corners of my lips turn down. Not only do I know her pain, I know her name. I know everything about her.
Julia Summers.
My blood chills as she turns back to the table, the smile on her face slipping back into position just as the man at the end of the bar steps forward, obscuring her from my vision. As if the moment of clarity and recognition was just for me in that moment. Like fate wanted me to know how close I was to her.
I keep my eyes on the bar, doing my best to listen, but her voice is silent or lost in the mix of chatter throughout the crowded place.
“Another?” Patricia’s voice sounds close, closer than she usually is. I lift my head to see her standing right in front of me, both hands on the bar and waiting.
I nod my head with my brows pinched, shaking off the mix of emotions. This city is a small place with worlds always colliding, but I’ve never seen her in person. Only in a photograph. Only that once. I’m sure it’s her, though.
The ice clinks in the glass and I watch as the liquid slips over each cube, cracking them and filling the crevices.
“You okay?” Patricia asks me. It’s odd. In the year or so since I’ve been coming here, she’s never bothered to make small talk. It’s why I don’t mind her.
I give her a tight smile as I reply, “I’m fine.” I reach her eyes and widen my smile, relaxing my posture as I lean back slightly.
She eyes me warily as she mutters, “You don’t look fine.”
It takes me a moment before I shrug it off and say, “I’m all right, just tired.”
She nods once and goes back to minding her own business, sliding me the whiskey and moving on to other customers.
I tap my pointer finger against the glass, looking casually down the bar.
She’s hidden from view, but I know she’s there.
Julia
My body tingles with another sip of cabernet.
It’s my third glass and it’s only tasting sweeter on my lips. The tips of my fingers always feel the turning point first when I drink. That familiar buzz that makes my body feel a bit heavy and my mind light.
“I can’t believe your license plate says Alimony,” Maddie says into her wineglass as she snickers again. She’s laughing so hard that the white zinfandel splashes onto her lips, but she doesn’t care. She merely smiles and takes a large gulp.
Suzette answers with a shrug and a cocky smirk, “The asshole had it coming to him.” Her bright pink lipstick smudges against her glass of Long Island iced tea and she wipes it away with her napkin as Maddie continues to laugh. Sue’s given herself a makeover since her divorce is now finalized. Currently she’s sporting jet-black hair cut into a blunt bob and bangs to go with her snippy attitude.
“Please tell me he saw it when you left the courthouse today. Please?” Maddie practically begs, still grinning from ear to ear.
Maddie’s young and naive and thinks Prince Charming is somewhere out there, so you should always be ready. Sue has a marriage, a divorce, and fifteen years on Maddie, so between the three of us, we have as many opinions on love as we do rounds of drinks.
Sue’s plastered-on smile slips and she tries to hide it with a shrug as she takes another sip. Her license plate is just one more way for Sue to make fun of her divorce before anyone else can. Her ex put her through hell and she came out cold as ice to all men. Well, except the ones she likes to sink her claws into after a few Long Islands.
Sue leans back in the white leather booth, keeping the glass in her hand and shrugs again as she says, “What says ‘fuck you, motherfucker’ better than taking his red Ferrari in the proceedings and getting that license plate?”
Kat pipes up from her spot in the booth, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her Pepsi before she says, “I think it says, ‘don’t touch this bitch’ to every man in the city.”
A sly smile slips onto Sue’s face. “Thank goodness … that’s exactly what I was going for,” she says, setting her drink down then stretching her arms over her head. “Maybe all these bastards will finally leave me alone then.” The other girls start to howl at that and I join in, although my heart’s not in it. My nerves are shot just being out here tonight. Sue’s directly across from me and both of us are seated at the ends of the semicircular booth. Kat’s to my right, then Maddie.
“Another round?” The waiter startles me and I nearly spill my glass as I gasp and back away. All the poor guy did was offer me another drink and I practically had a heart attack. Several distant gazes turn in our direction as my own table watches me like there’s something wrong with me and I do what I do best, I play it off and let out a small laugh. Maybe I’m even more like Sue than I realized.
“Sorry,” I say a bit too loud. Exaggerating how tipsy I am, I gently place my hand o
n the waiter’s arm. His starched white shirt feels crisp under my fingers as I lean in and sweetly say, “I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t spill any on you.”
That’s all it takes for everyone to go about their own business, but my heart’s still beating wildly. A few stares linger. I’m aware the people in here recognize me; they probably think I shouldn’t be out or that I’m “having a moment.” Looking across the room, I’m frozen by a pair of eyes I know all too well.
They belong to a woman in her late sixties, Margo Pierce. She’s an heiress and an influential investor in the city. Her large sapphire cocktail rings appear even more over the top as she holds a simple glass of champagne with both hands. For a woman in her sixties, she wears her age well. From her perky breasts to the delicate skin around her eyes, not an inch of her hasn’t been through some procedure or another. All the work she’s had is very tastefully done, though.
The last time I saw her was at a casino up north, the night I got the phone call. I can still remember the dings and bells of the slot machines and the bright, colorful lights. Still remember the weight of the glass of rosé in my right hand as I sat perched on a barstool in the center of the casino. At the Mohegan Sun, the bar is elevated. I could see nearly a hundred of the other guests playing slots and sitting at the card tables; it was packed that night.
Just like tonight, I was with the girls and we were enjoying ourselves and the atmosphere. We were taking a break from roulette to grab cocktails and Sue was cursing out her soon-to-be ex-husband for prolonging their divorce when my phone rang. I only picked it up because it was odd for my mother to call me so late.
Kat leaned in to order from the bartender as I placed the phone to my ear, turning a bit to my left for a hint of privacy. As much as I could get in such a crowded place, anyway. I didn’t show them that anything was unusual, keeping a pleasant smile on my face as I answered.
When I heard my mother’s voice on the other end, the smile vanished and the vibrant night life, chatter, and sounds from the machines turned to dead air.
I could barely make out my mother’s voice, just a few words here and there, but I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. I needed to hear better, so I stood and started walking. I didn’t know where I was going, all I knew was that I needed to find a less noisy location.
My heart raced, and the shock caused my body temperature to drop so low that I was shivering.
He’s dead. I heard her words clear as day as I got to the front of the casino. My heels clipped the large rug at the entrance. I stumbled forward, my short dress riding up and one heel nearly falling off. My knees hit the hard granite flooring and the phone fell from my hand.
Jace is dead. That’s what she said.
I imagine the people around me at the time thought I was drunk. I would have assumed that if I’d seen someone fall the way I had.
Margo Pierce was there to help me. Those damn cocktail rings were digging painfully into my arm as she helped lift me up. I stood there on wobbly legs just trying to breathe, but when I looked into her eyes, I could tell she knew.
I knew in that moment it was real. I could lie to myself, or I could have hung up and driven home, all the while in denial. But the sympathy in her eyes was damning.
I rip my eyes away from hers at the other side of the bar and return back to the girls, back to tonight, leaving that night in the past right where it belongs. I ignore the way my hand itches to drain the wine and order another cabernet and then another while I push my hair back over my shoulders, trying to relax. Trying to shake off the unwanted memory.
“I think you’re flagged,” Kat says into her glass even as her eyes meet mine. Her sandy brunette hair is colored with a subtle ombre and she’s applied her eyeliner in a cat-eye fashion. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop looking at it. Like if I can just concentrate on her makeup, everything else will leave me alone.
“No such thing,” Sue says, quick to come to my defense, an asymmetric grin gracing her lips. “Drink up, girly.” She gives me a wink and it forces a smile to my face. It didn’t take long for the girls to come find me that night, crying alone in the back of our limo.
With a burn pricking at the back of my eyes, I blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. It was months and months ago, but sometimes the pain comes back full force. I don’t know that it will ever go away and if it does, surely that would be a tragedy. I don’t know where grief and mourning end and my life begins again, but I’d like to find it.
Pushing away the nearly empty glass, I watch the dark liquid pool in the bottom and sigh deeply. I can’t seem to keep a smile on my face. The once easy mask isn’t slipping into place. Progress is all I need, though. I remind myself of my motto: Aim for progress, not perfection.
“Let’s talk about something and someone else,” I suggest. “Is anyone getting laid? One of us must be getting laid, right? At least Kat?” I arch a brow in her direction but her forehead creases in response and the action is followed by a huff and, “Yeah right.” Shit. I forgot she and her husband are going through something.
Way to put my foot in my mouth.
My skin pricks at the back of my neck as I feel another set of eyes on me. The anxiousness comes back and I put on my best fake smile, staring straight ahead as Maddie starts listing off what was wrong with her last rendezvous. This one was some guy she met online.
The nagging feeling doesn’t quit. I don’t know who it is, but someone’s watching me. It could be the paparazzi but typically every time I go out, they approach me before I even noticed them. I’m a socialite, after all, and I know the intrusion is part of this life.
Debating on taking a casual look over my shoulder, I shake off the paranoia. It’s all in your head, I tell myself. I thought I felt someone watching me earlier, but maybe I was wrong.
“You know enough time has passed.” Sue’s comment from across the table gets my attention. I look up to find her dark eyes twinkling with mischievousness.
“Enough time for what?” Maddie questions Sue. Maddie’s the quintessential younger sister of our group and I swear most of Sue’s comments go right over her head.
Sue motions toward me and it’s only then that I take in her words. I clear my throat and look away, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. “When I said someone else …” I say playfully and pick up the glass, lifting it high in the air and tilting my head back to get the last few drops.
The girls laugh it off, but there’s a certain gravitas in Sue’s eyes.
She lowers her voice and looks me in the eye as she says, “We just want you to be happy.”
“It’s ‘we’ now?” I ask her, suddenly feeling defensive. They’ve been talking about me behind my back?
Sue shrugs and Kat’s quick to put a hand on top of mine. She twists in her spot and the white leather squeaks under her skinny ass. “We were just making conversation earlier.” My brow rises as she takes in a breath and tries to find the right words.
“We want you happy again,” Maddie says from her seat next to Kat. Her hands make two sharp motions emphasizing happy again as she leans back and looks straight ahead, avoiding my eyes on her.
Oh my God … is this some kind of intervention? I imagine my face reflects exactly what I’m thinking. Judging by the guilty expressions Kat and Maddie are wearing on their faces, I’m sure it does. Sue is shameless though, back to nursing her drink.
Of course they’d talk about me. I can’t explain why it feels like a betrayal, though. Why my throat seems to go dry and itch as if I’m going to cry. Why wouldn’t they? Everyone else is.
“Hey, Jules.” Kat’s voice is soft, placating even.
I pull my hand away from her and suck in a breath. “It’s fine,” I whisper, grabbing my clutch.
Sue’s quick to sit forward and say, “Don’t go. It wasn’t—”
“Just headed to the powder room,” I blurt out. “I just need to freshen up,” I tell them with a tight smile, standing up and tugging down my dress.
&nb
sp; “Do you want company?” Kat asks, already sliding out behind me.
“I just need a minute,” I say and shake my head, giving her pleading eyes. I love them. They only want what’s best for me. But don’t they know how hard this is? How much it took just to come out here.
I can handle this. I just need something although I’m not sure what that something is. A breath of fresh air, maybe. Or a drink of water or something stronger. I don’t know what, but I know I need at least a minute to myself to figure it out.
Mason
The anxious feeling deep in my gut won’t quit. It only gets more intense as Julia walks behind me, politely maneuvering her small frame amid the crowd of people. Watching her from my periphery, I listen to the rhythmic sound of her heels and watch how her hips sway gently.
She doesn’t notice me, which is by design, but still it aggravates me. She passes so close behind me on her way to the restrooms that I catch a hint of her sweet scent. No doubt it’s perfume, a gentle floral mixed with citrus of some sort but as it fills my lungs, I can’t help but grip the bar top tighter to keep myself from following her.
Ever since I caught a glimpse of her, I haven’t been able to move or get her out of my head. For months, I haven’t thought twice about her. Each time her picture swept into my head, I pushed it away.
But she’s here now, so close that I could touch her.
I can’t approach her, though. How fucked up would that be?
I can’t cross that line. She doesn’t know a damn bit of the truth.
I down the remainder of my whiskey and slide the empty glass forward, pissed off and frustrated.
As I stand abruptly, the stool slides backward and bumps into someone. I turn to look over my shoulder while reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. “Sorry,” I say without thinking only to find myself staring directly at Julia.
Her eyes still aren’t on me as she waves off my apology, looking at the bottles lining the back of the bar before finally resting her gorgeous blue eyes on me. This close to her I can see they’re pale blue with flecks of silver speckled throughout. They’re beautiful.
You Are My Reason (You Are Mine Book 1) Page 3
