The Secret Rival

by Rachel Woods

  Knowing Burt as she did now, he probably withheld the information for her own good. Trying to talk to Leo again was futile. Vivian didn't want to subject herself to the same heartache she'd gone through after coming home from Africa. Last night was just a minor setback, and nothing that had transpired between her and Leo as they made love on the beach could magically change Leo's views on marriage. There was no future for her and Leo. She wouldn't allow herself to continue to love and commit herself to a man who was unwilling to make the ultimate commitment to her. She was worth more than what Leo was willing to give.

  As she walked through the wrought iron gates of the condo complex, Vivian heard a familiar, cheerful cadence.

  “Vivian! Welcome back. How was your shopping?” Mr. Percy Higginbottom, the elderly property manager, emerged from the management office, waving his hands frantically.

  “As you can see, I contributed quite a lot to the St. Killian economy this afternoon,” Vivian said, turning to show him the bags hanging from her left shoulder.

  “Indeed you did,” said Mr. Higginbottom, a big smile spreading across his round face. “I saw your beautiful friend this morning, the one with the long black hair.”

  “This morning?” Vivian frowned. She hadn’t left for the mall until the afternoon. If Amal had returned this morning, why hadn’t she come back to the condo?

  “Yes, I was out here trying to capture sand crabs. For some reason, they are particularly bad this year. As you know, it is against the island law to kill the little critters. I must carefully lure them into a shoe box and transport them back to the beach. A painstaking process.”

  Smiling, Vivian sat her bags on the ground. “Did you let my friend into my condo?”

  “Oh no! I would never let anyone into your condo. That is against property management rules.” Mr. Higginbottom shook his head vigorously.

  “It’s okay. Remember, I told you she’s my best friend from high school. She’s staying with me for the next week.” Vivian placed a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. “Where is she now?”

  “Who?”

  “My friend that you saw this morning ...” Vivian raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, your friend! She told me to give you a message, and I promised her I would, just as soon as I finished gathering a few of the sand crabs. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, you know. I caught about five, but in my younger years, I would catch twenty to fifty a day!”

  “I see.” Vivian nodded slowly and then asked, “Mr. Higginbottom, what was the message my friend wanted you to give me?”

  “Yes, she wanted you to know that she was going on an overnight excursion to St. Mateo with her special friend and that her cell phone battery was dead. Or maybe that she wouldn’t get reception out on the sea. I can’t remember. But she left a note! Let me go grab it for you, wait here.”

  Vivian placed a hand on her hip. Amal had planned to visit her so they could hang out like old times, and less than six hours into the trip, she had disappeared for the night and planned to be gone for another day and night.

  Looking at her watch, she saw it had been almost twenty minutes since Mr. Higginbottom had gone to fetch the note. She wondered what was taking him so long. After another minute had passed, Vivian peered toward the small window of the office building, seeing no activity.

  Stepping over her bags, she headed for the door and turned the knob. Vivian pushed the door open slightly and saw the elderly man playing solitaire on his computer. What was going on? Had he even looked for the note?

  “Excuse me,” Vivian said, making a concerted effort to control her annoyance. “Did you find the note from my friend?”

  “Oh my, no, I couldn’t find it,” Mr. Higginbottom said, as he hastily lifted a few of the piles of paper on his desk. “I will keep looking for it and let you know as soon as I locate it. It has to be here somewhere.”

  Vivian sighed heavily. “Okay, thank you.”

  Pulling the door shut behind her, she thought the likelihood of him finding Amal’s note was slim to none.

  8

  By the time Vivian turned down the narrow sidewalk toward her condo, she was drenched in sweat. Dragging the three bags filled with a thousand dollars’ worth of clothes, Vivian lamented the time wasted with Mr. Higginbottom. Her frustration was not the old man’s fault. He hadn’t made her best friend ditch her for some “good D” as Amal would say. If she was honest though, her ill temper had nothing to do with Mr. Higginbottom or Amal and everything to do with Leo.

  Vivian lengthened her strides and grabbed her keys from the front pocket of her jeans, anxious to get inside the cool air-conditioned condo. Angry yelps from her neighbor’s dog grew louder with each step. Something had agitated the mild-mannered Yorkie. Vivian couldn’t remember a time when the dog had barked this intensely before.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” Vivian tried to soothe the dog, as she sat her bags down in front of the door. Through the gaps in the wooden fence surrounding the courtyard, Vivian could see the Yorkie pacing back and forth. Inching closer, she peered through the slats and saw no signs the dog was hurt. Maybe the dog was just hungry and upset from being left behind. She could relate to that. Vivian hoped her neighbor would return soon. She was in no mood to hear the dog barking for much longer.

  Walking back toward her door, Vivian held the key out to place it in the keyhole and paused. Her hand began to tremble.

  The door was slightly ajar.

  Had she opened it before checking on the dog? Could she have forgotten to close it before she left?

  Pushing the door in slightly with her right hand, Vivian peeked through the opening. Nothing looked disturbed in her living room. Vivian took a small step forward. Her eyes roamed over the kitchen and dining room. Nothing was out of place. Distracted by thoughts of Leo, she might not have closed the door completely when she left.

  Grabbing her bags, she crossed the threshold, sat them on the couch, and then closed the door behind her. Vivian took off her tank top and stood in the middle of the room, allowing the cool air to embrace her skin. Walking over to the refrigerator, she grabbed a bottle of water before checking her cell phone again for a message from Amal. Vivian wasn’t sure if she could trust Mr. Higginbottom’s memory. The man was befuddled at best and absentminded at worst. Amal’s cell phone could be dead, but she expected her industrious friend to have bought a replacement charger by now to allow them to keep in touch. Or maybe Landon’s sexual prowess was just that good that Amal didn’t care about abandoning her best friend for a couple of days.

  Vivian smiled at the thought. There was a time she would have done the same thing for Leo.

  Taking a couple of gulps from the water bottle, Vivian leaned on the counter. Memories of Leo began to flood her mind. She’d been ashamed by what she’d allowed last night.

  Basking in the aftershocks of making love on the lounge chair behind the bar, Vivian had allowed herself to go back in time as Leo’s arms wrapped around her. Everything had been perfect between them for almost five years. Simply loving each other had been enough. When had that stopped being enough for her? Why couldn't she accept Leo's love without the condition of marriage? Was the piece of paper worth walking away from the man she still loved after all this time?

  Confused by her wayward thoughts, she'd pushed away from Leo, slipping back into her dress before running off along the beach back to her parked car. She could hear him calling her name as he struggled to find his clothes, but it was too late.

  Her heart and her mind were aligned. She refused to be in a stagnant relationship. She deserved better. She deserved a man who wanted to marry her and have a family and—

  A loud thud followed by a sharp bang against a wall jolted Vivian.

  Reaching down to the floor, Vivian scooped up her tank top and put it on. Her breathing ragged and rushed, she stood still listening for another sound.

  Was someone upstairs in her condo? Was that why the little dog was barking like crazy? Was there a burgla
r in her home? Looking to her right, Vivian picked up the first heavy object she saw in the kitchen, a wooden rolling pin. Not the best weapon, but her hands were shaking hard.

  What happened to the woman who'd hunted down African warlords, brandishing an AK-47 for protection, just to get a quote for her next exposé? She would never have felt this trepidation two years ago. Vivian was known for plunging into dangerous situations without thinking, much to Leo's dismay. The casual, laid-back island life had dulled her instincts and her pursuit of danger. She didn’t trust herself to wield a knife at the moment.

  Heart pounding, she took a few steps, careful not to make any noise on the travertine tile floor. Maybe she was just hearing things.

  Or could Amal have returned? One of the maintenance workers might have let her inside. Easing toward the staircase, Vivian stopped for a moment to steady her breathing.

  Another loud thud made her heart jump into her throat.

  Someone was upstairs.

  Slowly ascending the staircase, Vivian reached the top of the landing faster than she wanted. She should call the cops instead of trying to play amateur sleuth, but the reporter in her was too curious not to investigate.

  Staying close to the wall, she could see the den was empty, but the glass pocket doors to her balcony were opened slightly. Vivian was certain she’d closed those before leaving. Holding the rolling pin above her head, Vivian took small steps toward the edge of the wall next to the hallway separating her guest bedrooms from the study. With a quick glance around the corner, she saw a light on in one of the guest bedrooms.

  But not the one Amal was staying in.

  This bedroom was used for storing unpacked boxes filled with items Vivian couldn’t remember and probably didn’t need.

  As she turned the corner and inched down the hallway toward the bedroom door, Vivian heard more banging and rustling inside. Blood rushed through her ears, muffling the sound, and her body shook with each step.

  Wanting to make sure it wasn’t Amal, she thought of calling out to her best friend, but the words stuck in her throat.

  She was too afraid.

  Abandoning her original resolve, Vivian took a step backward. A figure emerged from the room dressed in all black.

  Screaming, Vivian turned to run down the stairs. As she took the steps two at a time, she heard a soft feminine scream merge with her own. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Vivian looked behind her to see her maid, Cozette.

  “Ms. Vivian, you scared me so bad!”

  “Cozette! What the hell are you doing here?” Vivian asked.

  “Remember, I asked if I could come clean for you this weekend instead of during the week because of my family reunion. Everybody’s coming to the island tomorrow, and I’ll be too busy with our activities …” Cozette said, a worried look on her face.

  Vivian let out a sigh and leaned against the wall. “I completely forgot about that. I’m sorry, Cozette.”

  “No, I’m sorry, Ms. Vivian. I should have reminded you.” Cozette gave a nervous laugh and placed her hand on the wall to steady herself. “I thought you were a burglar trying to bash my head in with that rolling pin.”

  Vivian smiled with relief. “What were you doing in there?”

  “I saw the box labeled exercise equipment. I was going to move it to your new workout room. I was moving the boxes to get to that one. I’m sorry I was loud, some of them were really heavy,” Cozette said.

  “I understand.” The mystery was solved.

  “Is it okay for me to finish cleaning?”

  “Yes, of course. And, Cozette, be careful coming in next time. You left the front door ajar.”

  9

  Leaving the kitchen with two mugs of steaming fresh-brewed coffee, Vivian ventured upstairs to Amal’s guest room, anxious to get the salacious, sordid details about her best friend’s extended one-night stand.

  Heading down the hallway, Vivian debated whether or not she would divulge the salacious, sordid details of her secret dalliance. Vivian still couldn’t believe she’d hooked up with Leo at the street circus. What had she been thinking? Well, she knew the answer to that question. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d been too wrapped up in her emotions, too caught up in Leo and the electric, mesmerizing effects he still held over her. Time apart had definitely made her heart grow fonder. Leo was as sexy and irresistible as ever, and she had been unable to push him away. As soon as she’d heard his voice, all rational thought had fled, leaving behind an eagerness to succumb to his touch.

  Vivian had berated herself for her recklessness, and yet, part of her didn’t regret the encounter. Still, as she knocked on Amal’s door, Vivian knew she wasn’t ready to spill her secrets to her best friend. Nine o’clock on a Sunday morning was too early for blunt, tough love.

  “Amal?” Vivian put one of the mugs on a narrow console table positioned against the wall and then opened the door.

  Amal wasn’t in her room.

  The bright sun shone through the windows, illuminating the emptiness, made even more disappointing by the unmade bed.

  More than a bit annoyed, Vivian took the coffee back to the kitchen, wondering where the hell Amal could be. Three sips of coffee later, Vivian abandoned the java, remembering the note from Amal Mr. Higginbottom had told her about, anxious to read it.

  Changing from her pajama shorts and a camisole into khaki shorts and a camo-printed tank, Vivian tied her long, flowing braids back into a ponytail, shoved her feet into the pair of deck shoes she kept near the front door, and left the condo.

  Vivian hurried along the winding path to the property manager’s office, curious about why Amal hadn’t called to check in with her. Vivian wasn’t her best friend’s keeper, but a quick text from Amal would have put Vivian’s mind at ease. Amal’s prolonged absence didn’t really upset her, though. Her best friend had pulled disappearing acts before, seeking various and sundry “vacation sex” experiences.

  What bothered Vivian was Amal’s hookup with Landon George. Thinking of her best friend with the shifty crook worried Vivian; she couldn’t shake the apprehension.

  The waiter seemed to be, at the most, a petty wannabe criminal, but was that just an act? Thinking back on her interview with Landon, she remembered thinking his protests of innocence weren’t just deceptive but deliberate. Like the African warlords she’d interrogated, the waiter had given her disinformation. She’d left the meeting with Landon feeling as though she’d been talking to the mastermind, not just a minion.

  As she neared the property manager’s office, Vivian chided herself for worrying. Amal was savvy, clever, and tough. A badass boss bitch. She resided among the pampered elite in Palm Beach now, but Amal had survived, and thrived, in a tough urban neighborhood. Amal could take care of herself.

  “Yes, I have the note right here,” said Mr. Higginbottom, after Vivian had entered his office and reminded him about his promise to find the note from Amal. Moving behind his desk, littered with papers, folders, brochures, and pamphlets, he put on a pair of glasses and began shuffling through the several small mounds.

  “Here it is,” he announced, peering at the piece of paper he’d unearthed. “Oh, no, wait, this is not it. This is a note to remind myself to call my cousin’s neighbor, Mrs. White. Her godson works at the Purple Gecko, where they found the hit-and-run victim. Nasty business. Did you write that story?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Vivian shook her head and then cleared her throat. “Mr. Higginbottom, you said you had the note from my friend. Can you please find it?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said the man as he fished through his sea of haphazard papers and excavated another piece of paper, proclaiming it as the note from Amal. “Here you are!”

  “Thanks,” Vivian mumbled, unable to mask her frustration as she read the note. “Mr. Higginbottom, this note is not from my friend.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “This note says: Met a great guy and we’re going on a sunset cruise. Don’t wait up. I’ll
be back tomorrow for breakfast. Sally,” Vivian said, her frustration escalating to annoyance.

  “Sally isn’t your friend?” Mr. Higginbottom asked, confusion in his owl-like eyes. “Are you sure? The beautiful girl with the long dark hair and gray eyes like a summer storm?”

  “Amal’s eyes aren’t gray,” Vivian said, her disappointment giving way to a strange despair. “I don’t know anyone named Sally.”

  “Neither do I,” said the office manager, shaking his head. “However, there is something I do know, or rather, something I remember!”

  Not amused by the elder man’s befuddled temperament, Vivian asked, “What?”

  “I remember your friend!” Mr. Higginbottom exclaimed. “She’s the lovely woman from Egypt, right?”

  Vivian crossed her arms, irritated. “Did you talk to her?”

  “I actually did more than that,” pronounced Mr. Higginbottom, with pride. “Your friend, if I remember correctly, and I do believe I am at the moment. Although, sometimes, my memory, which once was better than that of an elephant—”

  “Mr. Higginbottom, please,” implored Vivian. “Tell me what happened with Amal.”

  “Oh, yes, right! Well, you see,” began the property manager, somewhat conspiratorially, “your friend came to me needing assistance with calling a cab, and I told her that I would do no such thing! I informed her that I would be very offended if she didn’t allow me to drive her where she needed to go, and so—”

  “Wait a minute,” Vivian said, holding up a hand to stop him. “You drove Amal somewhere?”

  “Indeed I did,” said Mr. Higginbottom. “I was happy to do it because I was anxious to ask her questions about Egypt, which is one of the places my Martha has always dreamed of going, but your friend was very distracted and seemed preoccupied with her thoughts, so I wasn’t able to get much from her about the pyramids and ancient ruins and—”