“GQS will acquire Multi-Parcel Express, CEO Gerard Dylan announces”
GQS? The GQS? I wondered. I read intently about Gerard, CEO of Global Quick & Speedy, the worldwide shipping company. I returned to the main page and typed in Gerard’s name, which revealed endless articles, both business and personal. A profile of his home life presented four perfect smiles: Gerard, wife Judy, daughter Jessa and son David. There was no mistaking David’s sister, who had the same obsidian hair that complemented clear brown eyes and long black lashes.
He was so photogenic that his piercing gaze and sturdy features almost made him hard to look at. I sifted through images of him, mostly working or at events, and smiled at how his tall frame and broad shoulders dwarfed those who posed with him. A profile shot of him and his sister laughing, dressed in head-to-toe black, could have been from a perfume ad. A few rows down, there was an image of him on a red carpet, his arm placed behind a stunning golden-skinned brunette with narrowed green eyes. Two more photos with her. And another with a leggy redhead. I clicked out of the browser. So much for research. All I learned is that he looks unjustly good in a hardhat, I thought, shutting the laptop with a thud.
I headed out into the balminess of the late morning, surprised to find it warmer than I’d expected, and directly into the nearest Starbucks for a hit of caffeine. I considered staying to do some work but was feeling restless, so I took my drink to go.
Shopping and people watching were two areas where New York was never lacking. Throngs of people filled the sidewalks, stopping abruptly to take pictures or admire the shops along 5th Avenue. I perused a few stores along the way, more admiring than shopping.
Eventually I stumbled across the imposing St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Its dark beauty showed through hard, sharp edges of smooth stone-colored marble. The intricacy of the carvings that decorated the entire building, from base to sky-stabbing spire, was breathtaking. I climbed the steps of the grave, mysterious building and entered quietly behind a slew of other tourists. Studying the interior, I was overcome with the solemnity that religious structures always inspired in me. Observers wielded their cameras and phones, trying in vain to capture the power of the architecture. Staring into the altar, I watched the candles flicker with each opening of the cathedral door.
When a familiar melody filled the room, I was embarrassed to find it was coming from my purse. I scrambled to excavate my phone as I bolted for the door. A hurried finger swiped across the screen silenced the ring. “Hello?” I asked breathlessly as I descended the steps.
“Olivia.” His voice was no less powerful on the phone, and I cursed inwardly. “It’s David Dylan. Serena said I could reach you here.” I rolled my eyes, trying to imagine how he had charmed my personal number out of her.
“Hello, Mr. Dylan,” I said, trying to keep the butterflies in my stomach and out of my mouth. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been concerned,” he said.
“I’m fine,” I exhaled, feigning exasperation. “Everyone is overreacting.”
“How is your arm?”
“Healing beautifully. What can I do for you?” I repeated.
“Friday,” he said.
I bristled at the way he disregarded my clipped tone. “Actually, Friday works if you don’t mind a phone interview.”
“Hmm. I’d prefer to do it in person. I’ll get in touch with a better date.”
My phone pinged in my ear and I pulled it away to quickly read a text message from Bill.
Apr 24, 2012 4:17 PM
Headed back now.
“You’d love it here,” I said, changing the subject. “The architecture is jaw-dropping, as are the women.”
“I’ve been to New York, Olivia. I travel there for business quite frequently,” he stated.
“Oh, of course,” I said, flushing under the chastisement. Obviously he must have known intimately the type of women that lived here.
“Where are you?” he asked, his tone softening barely.
“Um,” I glanced around. I realized I’d been wandering, engulfed in our conversation. I squinted for a street sign. “I don’t know, actually.”
“What?”
“Well, I’ve just been wandering and exploring . . . . I’m by St. Patrick’s Cathedral, or at least I was.”
“Christ, Olivia. Pay attention, would you? I’m about to hire you a bodyguard.”
“Well, imagine how I’ve made it this long.”
“You are trouble,” he intoned quietly, so I had to strain to hear it. His tone stirred my insides. “You know, I waited a full twenty-four hours for your response,” he said. “It was everything to restrain myself from calling.”
“It has not been twenty-four hours,” I pointed out.
“It’s four-thirty,” he stated simply.
“Not in Chicago, it isn’t,” I giggled.
“You have a most enchanting giggle, Olivia Germaine,” he teased.
I stopped, reddening further. “David,” I started. “Don’t call me here again. You can e-mail if it’s important.”
“Understood,” he complied, easier than I would have thought. “Tell me where you are though.”
“Hmm. Madison Avenue,” I read off the nearest street sign.
“Not surprising,” he mused. “What, were you doing some shopping?”
“Well, I rarely get a chance to shop for myself,” I explained.
“I think it might be fun to take you shopping.” I could almost hear him smiling on the other end. I blanched, unsure of whether or not he was joking.
“Sure, Edward Lewis,” I said, playing along.
“Edward Lewis?”
“Never mind, it’s a Pretty Woman reference.”
“So that would make you Julia Roberts, then.”
“No, that would make me Vivian.”
“All right, well, Vivian - where are you staying? I’ll tell you how to get back.” I toed the deformed sidewalk beneath me, thinking. “Don’t worry, I won’t show up or anything.” I relented and told him we were staying in the Meatpacking District.
“Okay, listen,” he said, and instructed me on how to return to the hotel, where I knew Bill would be waiting.
My plan to forget was not working, but I relaxed knowing I wouldn’t be hearing from him for a while. My heart dropped a little, too.
That night, Bill surprised me with tickets to a show. We enjoyed the play, took in a late night meal at Sardi’s . . . . Stayed up late, talking in our hotel room, deciding to extend our trip through the weekend. I was content, as I’d always been, except that I couldn’t shake the tiny knot at the pit of my stomach. Something had been planted inside of me that I was finding hard to escape.
CHAPTER 9
I LOOKED UP TO FIND Gretchen in my doorway. “Hello, new office!” she exclaimed. “How was the Big Apple?”
“No apples to be seen. Remember when you almost moved there?” I asked.
“Yup! For Ramon. Asshole,” she muttered, and I laughed. “Are you ready to go?”
“Just give me a minute to finish up this e-mail. Thanks for pushing this lunch back, by the way. Lucy’s meeting us downstairs.”
“So what’s new?” she asked, slumping her Louis Vuitton bag onto the chair.
“Nothing. What did you do this week?”
“Worked like crazy. My boss had me there ‘til eight o’clock three nights in a row, and Friday I had to go straight from work to an event. Saturday I went to a party with Ava and her friends - we drank way too much and I got into a Twitter war with a fourteen-year-old. But before that, her hot co-worker was there, and -” I shifted uneasily in my seat and she stopped. “Wait, why are you looking at me like that? What’s up?”
“Well.” I hit ‘Send’ and sat back in my chair and then leaned forward again, trying to get comfortable. “There’s a reason I took off for New York last week. Sunday night, I was walking home from Halsted and was confronted by this guy.”
“Confronted? What does that mean?”
“It means he grabbed my arm and threatened me. It’s because Bill was the prosecutor in a case against the guy’s brother back when he worked as an ASA.”
She rose from her seat, covered her mouth and sat back down. “Olivia!” she squealed. “Where?”
“In front of my building. Shh,” I said, placing my finger over my mouth. “It’s been over a week since it happened, and frankly, I’m sick of thinking about it. But I thought it would be a good opportunity to get out of town and spend some quality time with Bill.”
Gretchen nodded in silence, a rare state for her. “You know you could’ve stayed with me.”
“Of course, sweetie, I know. But Bill suggested it and . . . Anyway, it happened and I’m going to be more careful in the future.”
Gretchen leaned forward and put her hand on my arm. “Oh Liv, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I need a favor,” I said, wiggling her hand off. She looked at me carefully and withdrew her arm. I could almost see the question forming in her mind.
“If anyone asks – Bill, specifically – you and I were together having drinks that night.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, fidgeting with the clasp of the Vuitton.
“I can’t really say.” I looked into perplexed eyes and explained, “It’s nothing serious or bad, but I just don’t want to talk about it, and I need you to trust me. Please, just promise me you’ll lie if it comes up. Even to Lucy.” She didn’t seem surprised by my request, just nodded.
“Of course,” she said. “Of course I’ll cover for you. But if you need to talk about it, or if gets serious . . . or bad,” she added, “please come to me. I know you’re not easily fazed, but I’m here if you need me.” She paused. “I still haven’t forgiven you for freshmen year of high school,” she said. “The way you clammed up after your parents’ divorce wasn’t fair. I wanted to be there for you.”
I nodded. “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”
“Well I try, but sometimes you make it hard.”
“Let’s not get into that,” I moaned. “Anyway Lucy just texted that she’s downstairs. I’ll fill you in on the details in the elevator, and then I want to hear more about Ava’s hot co-worker.”
~
Lucy tapped her foot on the pavement.
“These magazines are ridiculously heavy,” she said. “They’re killing my back. Let’s go. Liv, did you bring my earrings?”
“Earrings?” I asked, taking the bag from Lucy.
“Yes! The chandelier earrings. We talked about this at my engagement party – I need them back, and you said you’d bring them last Monday.”
“I did?”
Lucy groaned with disgust. “Let’s just go.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“It’s true,” Gretchen pitched in. “I was there.”
“Forget it, come on,” she said impatiently, walking away.
Gretchen gave me an encouraging look as we walked, nodding toward Lucy. “Oh,” I said. “Luce, I have something to tell you. It’s about New York.”
She slowed a bit and turned around to wait for us. I gave her an abbreviated version of the story, gulping guiltily after the lie. I bore another sympathetic reaction and hoped that was truly the end of it, mostly so I wouldn’t have to tell the story anymore. She apologized for snapping at me about the earrings and we laughed. When we arrived at the restaurant, I let them both give me a long hug and was grateful that it didn’t come up again.
~
The next night, Bill and I followed the maître d' through a crowded restaurant. I reached behind me for Bill’s hand and gave it a squeeze when I noticed my father seated rigidly straight, sipping his signature whiskey on the rocks. He looked as handsome as ever – and although I was biased, enough of my friends had told me so that I knew it was true. His hair was all charcoal now, aside from white tufts at his temples.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, greeting him with a big hug as he stood.
“Livs. You look skinny,” he said, holding me at arm’s length. “Bill.” He stuck out his hand.
“Hi, Mr. Germaine. Nice to see you.”
“Is she eating enough?” he asked Bill heartily.
“Like a champ,” Bill said, winking in my direction.
“I do, Dad, I eat a lot. What are you doing in town?”
“Nothing exciting.” He waved his hand. “I’m meeting with the VP at a local ad agency about doing some consulting there.”
“How’s business?” Bill asked, unfolding his napkin onto his lap.
“Not too shabby. I just finished up a big project in Dallas that should get me some referrals. I’m considering trading in the BMW for a C7.”
“Corvette, huh? Can’t argue with that. Maybe we’ll take that Shelby off your hands, then.”
My eyes widened and I bit the inside of my lip. “Really?”
“Olivia, don’t make that face, you look like an owl.” It was my father’s favorite thing to tease me about, my big eyes.
“Once we move out of the city, we’ll need to get you a car,” Bill continued with a slight smile. I narrowed my eyes and smirked at him playfully.
“You still want the Shelby, Olivia?” I nodded. “We’ll see what happens with the C7. Any news at work?”
“Not since last month, although today I reworked one of Lisa’s layouts, and my boss was very impressed.”
“Does that mean you got the promotion?”
“No, Daddy, I won’t know that for a little while,” I explained, taking a moment to gulp down my water.
“I know kiddo, but maybe they’ll give it to you early. Just keep thinking about the next step. Whatever’s going to catch his eye. Waiter!” he called, motioning at someone across the room.
“It’s only been a month.”
“Doesn’t matter, Olivia. Keep your eye on the prize, never say ‘no’ and make sure the boss sees you working hard – can we get some more water here?” he instructed the waiter. “Given anymore thought to moving to New York? Isn’t that where the top publications are?”
“Well, yes,” I started.
“We’ve discussed it,” Bill interjected, glancing at me. “But it’s just not the right move for us. This job is still new for me, and we love Chicago. Plus, my family is here.”
I watched my dad inhale heavily before continuing. “Well how about Dallas then? I’d love to have her closer. Bill, I have plenty of friends in the area who own firms. Or maybe you want to think about starting your own. Dallas is a great place for that.”
I resisted the urge to cover Bill’s hand with mine while he played with his fork. “Perhaps, sir, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh no you won’t, Bobby Ewing. We like Chicago, Dad. You know that we’re looking for a house. And I really want this promotion.”
“I just want you to think big, baby,” he replied.
“Did I tell you that Lucy’s getting married?”
He grunted. “What about Gretchen? When’s she going to settle down?”
“Oh, she’s holding out for Kyle Korver,” I said with a laugh.
“Who?”
“Used to play for the Bulls,” Bill offered. “He’s married though.”
“I’d like to see her meet someone nice.”
“Well, it may be a while,” Bill joked.
“Why’s that? She’s a great girl, very smart, unlike that deadbeat brother of hers.”
“John isn’t a deadbeat,” I said with conviction.
“I agree, sir, I’m not a fan of that kid.”
“Kid, honey, he’s a year younger than you. Anyway, Dad, Gretchen’s doing fine, she’s just having fun playing the field. She wanted to come tonight but couldn’t get out of a work thing.”
“I just hope she doesn’t turn into her mother. She can do better. How about you, Bill? Things are good at Specter & Specter?”
“Absolutely. I’m on a few cases at the moment, one is pretty high profile. They’re keeping me busy.”
I studied the two of them. Next to my dad, Bill seemed . . . lankier than usual. He was a few inches taller and not nearly as robust looking.
“Good to hear it,” my dad said. “Waiter! Jesus, do they not want us to order? Get whatever you want honey, dinner is on me. How’s the market around here anyway, Bill? I don’t want Olivia ending up with some bum property.”
“We’re being very thorough, sir.”
Something flashed across my dad’s face as he examined Bill, but the approaching waiter caught his attention.
“What’s new with the divorce?” I asked after we’d ordered.
“Finalized next week.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “I don’t imagine Gina is easy to divorce.”
“Certainly not,” he said, leaning back into his seat for the first time. “But nobody is, in my experience.”
~
“That was exhausting,” Bill said.
“It usually is.”
“That man spoils you, Liv. I hope you don’t expect that from me.”
I laughed. “I’m his only child.”
“Yeah, and you love it. He would give you that car if you asked.”
“Maybe. But you saw how he nagged me about work.”
“He thinks you can do better. In all aspects of your life.”
“Oh, stop with that,” I said, shaking my head at him. “He likes you.”
“I’m so glad that, after almost five years together, your father likes me.”
“He’s your father now too, so watch it,” I said with a smile. “Let’s go get ice cream. My treat.”
“Ice cream,” he cringed, rubbing his stomach. “I’m stuffed. I just want to go home.”
“Please?” I asked. “I’ll be quick.”
“No Livs, the car’s right here. I have to get up early tomorrow, and your dad wore me down more than usual.”
“Fine,” I said. My tone was exasperated, but I took his hand. “Come on, old man.”
CHAPTER 10
IT HAD BEEN OVER A WEEK since my phone call with David. I stared longingly at my e-mail, wondering if he’d received my invitation to the Meet & Greet I’d planned. Most others had responded to the message immediately. I nervously twisted the pen in my hand. What would happen if he backed out of the feature? Would it cost me the promotion? Would I be able to move on and forget the things that had been slowly awakening in me? A week was only a drop in the bucket, but it felt like ages. I wanted to hear that endlessly deep voice in my ear or see his eyebrows knit thoughtfully as he watched me talk.
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