by Lee, Nadia
I stare, willing this farcical dream to end. Dad called just this morning to tell me to marry Warren like he wanted two years ago, and now Warren magically pops back into my life? And in California, of all places? Did Dad send him here?
But…no. Warren couldn’t have known that I’d be at this event. This just isn’t my scene. His father was a state senator, but my dad is just a mayor, and my family isn’t wealthy enough to be invited to a social function like this. Besides, I wasn’t even supposed to be here.
Warren smiles. As his thin lips stretch into a curve, revealing straight white teeth, his brown eyes crinkle in that open, friendly way. I never cared for his smile much. And I came to like it even less when I saw him smile like that and still backstab somebody.
And I hate it that I can’t tell if he’s going to behave himself or gut me. Having grown up in Saintsville, he’s aware of every bit of ugly gossip and speculation about me and my mom.
“Thanks for the introduction,” Warren says. “But I actually know these two very well.”
Of course he knows me, but David…?
But then, David’s family is from Virginia too. And wealthy as well. Warren’s dad probably knows them, maybe even tried to get them to support him before.
“Hi, Erin,” Warren says with a smile that would delight any would-be voters. “Long time, no see.”
“Hello, Warren.” I don’t know what else to say.
“I missed you.”
It takes a lot of willpower to hide a shudder of revulsion. I’d be much happier if I never ran into Warren again. But I keep that to myself because I don’t want him sharing my sharp words with Dad. I don’t need my father calling and leaving thousands of messages, bristling with displeasure and endlessly reminding me of my doomed future.
Warren directs a smile reserved for a long-lost friend to my boss. “And David! I didn’t realize you were in California.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here, either, considering you’re a Virginia politician,” David says.
“Well…” Warren’s smile doesn’t falter. But then, he’s never flustered or unsure. He likes to project what he calls “a winning attitude” because that’s what voters want to see. “While I represent the interests of the people of Virginia, I also represent the interests of our great country. Therefore, it’s prudent to travel around and meet people outside of my state.”
David nods while pulling me closer, the gesture excessively possessive.
And I let him—with relief. Hopefully Warren will tell Dad about it, and Dad will realize I wasn’t kidding about having a boyfriend. With any luck, it might even be enough to get Dad off my back about this marrying Warren stuff.
The skin around Warren’s eyes tightens, forming little lines. He always does that when he’s annoyed. But it’s his problem. I’ve never given him the impression that I wanted him back. As a matter of fact, I haven’t even contacted him after leaving Saintsville two years ago. If Dad’s been feeding him bad information about my intentions… Well, Warren should take it up with him.
“But I must admit that my heart will always be in Virginia. My roots are in the state. Erin’s are, too. We practically grew up together,” Warren says.
I want to tell him that he’s wrong. But if I do, I’ll be getting into an argument. I don’t think the love of David’s life is argumentative, especially with an ex-boyfriend, so I keep my mouth shut. Hopefully Warren will take my silence as sheer lack of interest and go off to soak in the admiration of his fawners instead.
“Remember when you, me and Katrina hung out together in my parents’ house?” Warren asks.
“Yes.” And it hurt like hell to realize that the friendship between me and Katrina wasn’t as genuine as I thought.
Warren looks at me encouragingly, but I don’t expand on the answer, even though the “yes” was curt. He’s a politician. He should be able to figure out that I’m not interested in pursuing this line of conversation.
But he persists. He brings up more memories, small events that only the people who were there would know about. It’s obvious he’s doing it to emphasize the fact that David wasn’t part of my past, unlike Warren. Since he’s mentioning things that actually happened—and I do remember them—I’m sort of obligated to answer “yes”…but I don’t offer anything else.
It still doesn’t stop him. He keeps going, finally getting to a couple of silly pranks that mutual friends played in high school.
I wish I could just punch him and shut him up. I don’t want David to know anything about my past. I don’t want anyone to know anything about me.
So far, Warren hasn’t mentioned my mom’s suicide and funeral, but he might. Just to get a reaction other than a perfunctory “yes.” On the other hand, he’s aware of the emotional scar my mom’s death left and how I struggled to overcome the grief. He’s too smooth to stick a foot in his mouth that way.
Still, a headache throbs. And acid roils in my belly.
“Are you okay?” David asks.
I raise a hand, unsure if I should put pressure on my temple or my stomach. Finally, I put my fingers against my temple. “I gotta go.”
“Go where?” Warren says. What he means is: “I’m not done yet.”
Oh, but I’m done with you. He’s not socially inept enough to continue this remember when with only David around. Warren will find some other way to thump his chest. Or maybe he’ll change tactics and go for the “I’m here to protect your interests” strategy to get David’s and his family’s votes.
Pointedly ignoring Warren, I give David a wan smile. “To the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”
Before Warren can squeeze in another snippet of our past into the conversation, I make a quick escape, grateful to have someplace where he can’t follow me.
Chapter Seven
David
I watch Erin as she goes off, hoping she’s all right. She was a bit too tense and pale as Fordham went on about their history.
I should’ve stopped him when he brought it up, especially when Erin didn’t seem that interested. I let him continue out of a selfish desire to hear how she grew up. Damn it.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Fordham says suddenly.
“Yes, she is.” I almost didn’t recognize her at the hotel entrance. I’ve never seen her in a color anywhere near as vibrant as that red, but it totally suits her. And I don’t know what she did with her makeup, but her eyes seem larger and more expressive. She left her lips pink, which only adds to her delicate air. I actually had an impulse to pull her into my arms and kiss her to see if she was as soft as she looked. To make sure she was real.
Which would’ve been a disaster. She’s here to foil Shelly. Besides, I’m her boss. Kissing her like that wouldn’t just be crossing the line—it would be obliterating it with a thermonuclear warhead. HR would want to have a talk. As Sweet Darlings’ in-house counsel, Matt would have to write me a stern letter.
Except the longer I had my arm around her waist, the less I cared about those other possibilities. And I really don’t like Fordham talking about Erin like he wants to date her.
“I was hoping to look her up,” he says, giving me some professional bonhomie, “but I’m glad that I ran into her here. She and I go way back. Way back.”
“You’re saying you’ve known her longer than me.”
He shrugs. “Only to be expected. Our families knew each other, and she and I got…close.”
Hopefully he won’t whip out his dick to compare sizes. I’m writing his opponent a fat check come the next election. “Really?”
“Yeah. Fact is, I still love her. I want to marry her.”
Fordham says it with an “aw shucks” smile, but I don’t buy the act. It’s clear what he’s thinking: Hey, I love her, so I should be able to have her. Erin is my assistant, damn it. And she’s not moving back to Virginia to marry some two-bit politician who’s about as genuine as Corinthian leather.
“Does she feel the same way?” I ask with a friendline
ss so fake that he’d have to be stupid to not perceive my true feelings.
He beams. “Of course.”
In your dreams, after you swallow a few teeth and get that smug face beaten black and blue. “Huh. Wonder why she didn’t marry you while she was still in Virginia?”
“Well, you know. Things were a little rough. Her mother passed away, and she wasn’t herself for a while there. The two of them were tight.”
I inhale sharply, stunned and sad that she lost her mom—and outraged that he speaks so carelessly about it, like she lost a shirt button. But I also realize that I know very little about Erin despite the fact that we’ve been working together for a couple of years. I didn’t even know her mother was gone until now. Erin never said, and I never made an effort to learn more about her. And now I wish I had.
“Erin’s a sensitive girl. Requires a delicate touch,” Fordham says. “But she always does the right thing.”
The more he talks, the more I want to break that perfect nose. Because from the smug, egotistical expression on his face, I’m pretty sure that “the right thing” in his mind means what he wants. Not what Erin wants, or what would make her happy.
“Perhaps you should mingle more, see what sort of contributions you can squeeze out of people.” I opt for a little cool derision, because giving in to my desire to punch his face is not going to help my cause. Besides, I’d rather check on Erin. She probably wants to leave now. I’d take her home if it weren’t for the fact that my grandmother wants me to buy a piece from here in her name for her upcoming birthday. We don’t give her presents because she wants us to make donations to worthy causes instead.
“Oh, I’m not here just for contributions. Being of service to one’s country isn’t always about money,” Fordham says.
Riiight. So how come every politician enters D.C. with average money in their bank account and leaves filthy rich? But I don’t ask, since I know what a phony like him will say: scrimping, hard work, if you do the right thing for the country, it takes care of you, blah blah blah.
“I have a feeling that money is the only thing you’ll be getting tonight,” I say, pissed off at his entitled, sanctimonious attitude. Acting like he’s some nice guy who plans to marry Erin. Ha! She doesn’t even like this creep. I can tell. “See, the thing is… I’m in love with Erin too.”
He stares at me like he just had a lobotomy. “What?”
“Uh-huh. And I’m going to marry her,” I tell him, the same thing I told Shelly earlier, but with more spite and arrogance. Shelly bruised my ego a couple of years back. This man actively antagonizes me just by existing. Hopefully this will make him vanish permanently from Erin’s life.
“That’s preposterous.”
“Not any more than you just showing up and deciding to marry her without asking her how she feels about it first.”
Confusion clouds his eyes. Are you kidding me? It never occurred to this idiot that she might not want him?
“If you really need a wife, Shelly’s probably single,” I say with a shrug. She’d make a great politician’s wife, since she’ll do anything to get what she wants, including sleeping around. “Fuck my wife for a vote” would make a unique campaign slogan. Viral, even.
“She’s not my type,” Fordham says.
And you’re not Erin’s. The retort dies on my lips when I realize Shelly’s too quiet. It isn’t like her to take a negative remark silently.
I glance around. Shelly isn’t with us anymore. When did she disappear? I was so focused on Fordham that I didn’t even notice. On the other hand, she might’ve slipped away when she realized she wasn’t getting anywhere with me, to find some other sucker to latch on to for the evening. Shelly is nothing if not opportunistic.
Fordham draws himself up. “May the best man win,” he says grimly.
“What?”
“I’m confident I’ll win Erin over to my side.”
Offensive on top of being an asshole. It’s like he’s an Asshole Combo Set. “She’s not a damn…wager.”
“Everything in life is a wager, buddy.”
The only reason I wanted Erin here is because I wanted to show Shelly that she meant nothing to me now. But instead, I’ve managed to reunite Erin with her ex. An ex who’s still in love with her, wants to marry her and is convinced he’s in a competition to win her before I do.
“Speaking of which…” Fordham checks his watch with a deliberate motion. A golden Rolex. Figures. He should just sprinkle diamond dust all over himself and be done with it. “The auction’s starting soon, and I plan on winning some art pieces. Some of them will look great in my new office in D.C., and some will be good as investments.”
“Really? Me too.” I smile, wondering how familiar he is with Elizabeth’s auctions. Things can get heated and expensive. “But first, I need to get my date.”
His face turns red. I go off to find Erin, so we can attend the auction.
* * *
Erin
The hotel is enormous, and I get lost in the hallways. I run into a waiter and ask for directions.
Finally, I enter a huge space that’s supposed to be the bathroom. I actually spotted it earlier, but thought it was a lounge or something when I saw the ivory leather couches and mirrors over a spotless black marble floor.
The place even has multiple reed diffusers, with the bottles labeled “specially blended for the most luxurious and refreshing experience.” That must be how people as rich as David and his social circle feel when they deal with bodily functions.
Except for soft classical music, I don’t hear anything. Sighing, I sit down on one of the couches and close my eyes.
I still can’t believe I ran into Warren. I plan to keep the encounter to myself as long as possible, and pray that Warren’s too busy to call my dad just to tell him about it. Because Dad will assign whatever meaning is most convenient for what he wants. He’ll call it serendipity, the divine will of God, proof that Warren and I belong together…all of which is going to lead to Dad winning the vacant state senate seat.
Ugh.
If he can’t win the election on his own merits, he probably shouldn’t run. But if I say that, I’m an unsupportive, insensitive, uncaring daughter. If I continue on that path, what man is going to be willing to marry me and take care of me when I’m older and start spending more and more time in bed, neglecting myself and everyone else around me? Or what if I’m shopping for cereal…and then burst into tears and become inconsolable for no apparent reason, while everyone stares and whispers?
Mom did all those things and more.
She’s a burden, but what can I do, except to put up with her? She’s still my wife, a cross I have to bear. People care about things like that. I overheard Dad say that once when I went over to his office to… I don’t even remember why I was there. I was too shocked and horrified when I heard it—and the following female giggles and uneven breathing. Back then I was too young to understand, but later I realized he was having an affair. With his secretary.
My stomach turns. I put a hand on my belly, hoping it’ll calm down soon. Must stop thinking about things like that. I got out of Saintsville to leave those ugly memories behind. It’s Warren’s reappearance that’s making me relive them.
I hear the door open, and somebody enters. I don’t move, since the bathroom is big enough to host a party.
“So this is where you’re hiding.”
My eyes fly open at the hostile voice. Shelly is standing in front of me, her hands on her hips. Her lips are set in a flat, tight line. She’d look prettier if she weren’t sneering. “Are you too ashamed to show your face after that spectacular scene with your ex and David?”
“What scene?” I didn’t even raise my voice. Neither did Warren. It was all very awkwardly civilized.
“Do you think you can make David forget?” she demands shrilly.
This woman is entirely too confusing. I need an interpreter. “Forget what? You?”
She jabs a finger in my dire
ction. “Look, you need to stay away because David was my first. First come, first served. You’ve heard of that, right?”
I just stare, wondering what that has to do with David. He’s a person, not some TV on a door-buster sale on Black Friday.
On the other hand, I shouldn’t bother. Trying to understand her logic is only making my head hurt more. “It’s not first come, first served. It’s really FIFO,” I say, throwing out an accounting term I learned during my first month as David’s assistant. He attends a lot of interdepartmental meetings, and I had to master all the basic business terms fast.
She looks at me blankly. “Fie-what?”
“FIFO—first in, first out. You were with David first, so now you’re gone.”
Her eyebrows slant upward until they form a tight V on her face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes at least as much sense as ‘first come, first served.’” It’s clear I’m not going to have any more peace and quiet, so I get up. Plus, I’ve been away long enough. David’s going to wonder if I’ve abandoned him. “I need to get back. If you want to stay here, the whole bathroom’s yours. Just leave me alone.”
For some reason, her attitude reminds me of my former best friend Katrina Benet. She didn’t want to be friends after my mom killed herself. Katrina said mental illness might be contagious, and she didn’t want to be around unhinged people. She even began to bully me with other girls, and that made my life hell. And I was sad and furious that someone I was so close to could turn on me so easily, so cruelly.
Then, when she thought I might marry Warren, she suddenly became nice again. She wanted to use his father’s influence to get government funding for her family business, and thought I’d be dumb enough to not see what she was up to.
David deserves better than someone like Shelly, just like I deserve better than someone like Warren. The difference is that David can easily have that…and I don’t think I can.
