I feel the remnants of a smile on my face fade as my new reality sinks in, yet again. “Yeah.”
I let my eyes wander back up to the ceiling. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”
“It hurts so much at first,” she says softly. Something in her voice has my eyes down on her again. Even with her gazing off to the side, I can sense the pain in them.
“Your parents?” I ask softly.
She nods. “It was a shock, and devastating, mostly because Bette was all the way in London instead of here in New York with me.” A tear drop falls, but she smiles through it, wiping it away with her fingertips.
“We talked for hours and hours that day. That stupid boat!” she spits out, then laughs even though more tears fall. “But they’d been planning it forever. At least they died doing what they loved.” She sighs. “Now Bette….”
She quickly wipes away all of the tears watering her eyes and gives me a bright smile. “But we have Stuart, and he has us.”
I bring a hand up to brush her hair aside. “Yeah, he has us.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
My internal alarm clock goes off and my eyes snap open. It’s 4:30 a.m., I know without even checking. Force of habit usually has me swiveling out of the bed and changing into my workout clothes to head down to the apartment’s gym for a run on the treadmill or a few laps in the pool and a weight-lifting session before all the trophy wives and retirees take over. From there it’s a quick shower, then straight to work.
Instead I linger, enjoying the warmth of Simone’s body still pressed against mine. I know one day of skipping the gym is all it takes to lead straight down the path of permanent neglect, but sleeping in this once won’t be disastrous. I smile up into the darkness wondering if she’d still be so gung-ho to have sex with me if this six-pack was replaced with flab.
That’s enough to spur me into action, though not without regret.
“Mmmm,” she moans against me as I shift under her weight. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I can hear the smile in her voice and it puts an idea in my head.
“I was going to go to the gym to exercise, but now that you’re awake maybe I don’t have to leave bed to burn some calories.”
She chuckles and I feel her body respond against mine. “That sounds like my kind of work out.”
We both laugh softly against each other as I reach over her in the darkness to pull open the drawer with the condoms in it.
Forty-five minutes later I’m still lingering in the aftermath of the best workout I’ve ever had. If I don’t pull myself out of bed, I’m never going to make it into work.
“Okay, now I really do have to get going,” I whisper in her ear.
“Ugh, how can you even wake up this early?” she protests, twisting away to bury her head in the pillows. “You go, I’m going to give it a few more hours.”
I laugh softly and slide out from beneath the covers. I know the bedroom backwards and forwards so I do Simone the favor of finding my way around in the dark to pull out the various pieces to my work uniform. I drape the slacks, dress shirt, tie, and underwear over one arm, leaving the rest for later, as I quietly make my way to the ensuite master bathroom to take a shower.
By the time I’ve showered, shaved, combed my hair and dressed, Simone is sound asleep again in the bedroom. In the shadows, I take one long look at the lump underneath my bedspread, listening to her steady breathing, and smile to myself.
I linger there a moment, letting it sink in so that I know it all wasn’t some wild dream, then I grab my jacket and shrug into it. I leave the shoes and socks for the living room, then exit, closing the door softly behind me.
In the hallway, I’m still as quiet as I’ve always been with my two new housemates—three if you count RiRi. I pause outside of Stuart’s door listening to see if he’s awake. Usually, I just pass right by his door in the mornings. Today my hand is drawn to the doorknob, twisting it open just a bit.
He has a nightlight so I’m able to actually get a glimpse of him. The soft light rounds out his pre-adolescent features, making him seem even more young and innocent. I watch his one shoulder rise and fall as he lies on his side, his body twisted in an awkward curve to accommodate the tiny little dog asleep on the bed with him.
The smile that was hinting at making its way to my face disappears as I think about his future. The past twenty-four hours have turned my world upside down in a way that I would have never thought possible.
Yesterday, Stuart was a trophy, a prize to be won once I had finally bested my mother and Simone. Now he’s part of a bigger picture. I lean into the door as I think back to that day at the park, back when Simone and I still loathed one another. Now, when I replay it in my head, all I can see are the good parts.
There’s no way I can send him away to the Knickerbocker School. It isn’t just the fact that Simone would kill me, it’s that he’s a part of the whole that includes her. Even more, he’s a part of the whole that includes the brother that I lost and the sister that Simone lost. Neither of us would be complete without Stuart here with us.
“You’re not going anywhere, buddy,” I say softly.
I stare at him a moment longer, then softly close the door and make my way out of the apartment.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“I want you to sell them off, but do it quietly. I don’t want to start raising any red flags.”
I’ve got Charles from the London office on speaker phone and Larry is sitting in the chair across from me. I figured it was best to get the word out in one go, rather than tell each of them separately.
I haven’t told either of them about what I found in Kevin’s files. I know that Kevin suspected that someone in Bennett Financial was working with Excelsior. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he found out who it was, or at least if he had, he hadn’t recorded it either digitally or in any of his paperwork. I know I trust Larry, and Kevin always mentioned how trustworthy Charles is. All the same, I’m taking no chances.
“Right, right. Damn shame though, they’re still performing brilliantly,” Charles sighs, but quickly adds, “ I understand why of course.”
“It does make sense…considering,” Larry adds. He looks just as upset about it as Charles sounds on the phone.
Yes, it stings to get rid of such a lucrative asset, but I would think both of them would understand the long term consequences of holding on to them. The risk is too great.
“So I suppose this also means a definite no with regard to the Excelsior buy-in,” Charles says, almost jokingly on the other end.
“It was never a consideration to begin with,” I point out, slightly irritated. “This underhanded move of theirs is all the proof I need that we were right to say no in the first place.”
“Did Kevin’s files mention exactly why they were buying the same assets or what their plan was?” Larry asks.
“No, but I do have my suspicions,” I confess. “However, not knowing is almost as bad as knowing. We deal with enough risks in this industry, I’m not about to add this wild card to the mix.”
“So, does everyone understand what to do?” I ask, looking at Larry.
“Understood,” Charles’ voice says over the speaker phone.
“Good,” I say, before pressing the button to hang up on him.
Larry is the next to go, “I think we’re making the right move here.”
“Agreed,” I say, suddenly distracted by an email notification on my computer.
Josh Upson.
I’ve been staring at his photo for at least five minutes now. A million rivers of raw emotion flow through me, converging in the bubbling ocean of bile that stirs in my stomach. Hatred. Anger. Resentment. Vengeance. Envy.
I recognized him instantly as soon as I opened the attachment in the email that the private detective sent me. The wedding might as well have been yesterday, so vivid is the memory of him and Simone. He was the photographer’s assistant who swooped in when I cal
lously dismissed Simone as nothing more than a ‘silly, cotton candy brained,’ maid of honor.
It could have been you.
Six years. Six years the bastard had her to himself and he threw it all away. For what?
I intend to find out.
I’m certainly not going to ask Simone about it. The last thing I need or want is to ruin what we’ve just started by stirring up memories of the man she’s moved on from.
Besides, this is a reckoning that’s best handled between Josh and me, face to face, man to man, and if necessary, fist to fist. I can already feel mine curl, itching to smash right into the face that’s staring back at me with a smile so guileless it borders on stupid. Then again, I could be biased.
I reach out to press the intercom to talk to Agnes.
“Yes, Mr. Bennett?”
“Cancel anything I have going on for the rest of the day. I’ll be out of the office.”
There’s a pause, short but definite, on the other end. I have never once made the “cancel all my appointments” announcement to her. That sort of crap only happens in movies, mostly because it’s a sure way to lose business and foster a bad reputation. Yet, here I am.
“Yes, Mr. Bennett,” she responds.
I can hear the surprise in her voice, but by now Agnes knows better than to question my orders. It should be a sign that I’m acting rash. I can still feel my elevated heartbeat, a mixture of anger and the hunger for a good fight. I should know better than anyone that you don’t confront the other side while emotions are still riding high. I should stop. Let Mike and his people take care of finding out where the video came from. They are the experts and can handle it with the sort of professionalism I have no intention of indulging in.
However, neither he nor Hope Fenwell, or anyone else for that matter, know about the video. I didn’t tell my own damn attorney about it when I first saw it, and now more than ever I intend to keep it to myself. The thought of anyone else laying eyes on it only causes my blood pressure to go up one more notch.
“No Josh, this is between you and me,” I say to myself.
I’m out of my chair before I can talk myself out of it. I walk past Agnes without even making eye contact, though I can feel her curious eyes follow me to the elevator.
I jam my finger into the button. The excited anticipation inside of me builds as the seconds go by. When the elevator finally arrives I feel like a balloon that’s ready to burst.
I don’t bother with my usual driver, hailing a taxi instead. Somehow it seems more fitting. By the time I make it to SoHo where his studio is, the fervor has settled and my rational mind begins to takeover in my head.
Which doesn’t bode well for Josh Upson.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Oh hey, sorry man, I don’t take walk-ins.”
He has no idea who I am. Apparently, I didn’t leave as much of an impression on him during the wedding as he did on me. In retrospect, this is probably a good thing. It allows me to be an anonymous, disinterested third party as I pump him for information.
In person, Josh looks even more dimwitted than he did in the photo. But again, I am biased. If I were to be objective, I could see why a nineteen year old girl could fall for that aw shucks expression and those pretty boy features, complete with floppy hair and an athletic build. No doubt he’s done quite well since moving on from Simone.
But now he’s here all alone in his “studio,” which is nothing more than a crappy loft space on the sixth floor of some walk-up. Considering the zip code, he’s probably still paying through the nose.
I look over the man who Simone was with for the past six years. Six years of dinners, vacations, birthdays, walks in the park, late night phone calls, showers together, curling up on the sofa to watch movies, fighting, making up, kissing, cuddling…fucking.
I feel the rage come back and force it down, digging my nails into my palm. A grin that only a jaguar could conjure up comes to my face.
“Actually, I’m not here for a session.”
Josh’s face contorts into one of confusion, but the first subtle signs of wariness are finally making an appearance. Perhaps he’s not as stupid as he looks.
“What do you want?” he asks suspiciously.
“I’m here about Simone.” Now that I’ve said her name, I watch his expression closely, searching for any signs of…hell, I don’t even know what.
I’m actually surprised to find a big goofy grin come to his face. “You are? Does this mean she’s taking me back?”
He’s quick to close the distance between us as he rambles on. “Listen man, tell her I’m sorry. Whatever she wants, it’s done. Shit, I don’t even know what I was thinkin’.” He runs a frustrated hand through is longish mop of hair.
“Simone was just getting so pushy about the marriage thing. I get it six years is a long time but…I just wasn’t ready to go there yet. Then Glory, she just, shit man, she was all over my junk. What was I supposed to do?” He gives me one quick panicky look. “Not that I’m excusing it. It’s just, the girl came on hard.”
I just stand there, not saying a word. I know better than to interrupt someone when they are on a roll, digging their own damn grave. The pieces are finally coming together at least. Some girl hit on him “hard” and he was dumb enough to succumb to it.
I think about Simone and the way her skin felt against mine, the way her lips tasted, how amazing it felt being deep inside of her as she moaned my name.
I hope Glory was worth it, you dumb shit.
I don’t know why I’m so full of antagonism. If it wasn’t for Josh’s screw-up, last night would have never happened. Hell, the whole fake wedding would have probably never happened. I should be thanking him. Instead, I let him get it out.
“The fucked up part is, Glory ghosted me like a week after Simone found out. I mean, one moment she’s all hot to trot, spending every night at my place and shit, and I’m thinking’ well I might as well make the most of it, you know?” He looks to me for some sort of man-code validation. Although I want to slap him silly, I just nod.
“Then…poof!” he splays the fingers of both his hands out like fireworks as though to illustrate, “she’s gone. The bitch even blocked me! I guess the blogosphere caught wind of us or something. Who the hell knows what’s up when it comes to girls? If I’d known she was gonna just leave….”
His hair is once again tangled in his fingers in frustration. He stays like that for a second, rethinking his life choices, before his head pops up again to give me that suspicious look. “Say, who are you anyway?”
Finally asking the important questions, Einstein.
“I’m here about a certain video that you may have leaked?” I hint.
He gives me that dumbfounded look of confusion. “Video?”
I stuff my fists into the pocket of my slacks and stroll into the studio idly looking around. It’s a well-known move for those of us who are practiced in the art of war. I’m invading his territory, casually marking it with my mere presence, asserting my authority over him with each step.
Josh stands in place, watching me with that same confused look on his face. Either he’s a brilliant poker player, or he has no idea what I’m talking about. If I was a betting man, I’d put every last penny on the latter.
“The sex tape with Simone, Josh,” I finally say, letting the slightest bit of exasperated anger color my voice. Just enough to whip his memory into action.
He blinks in surprise, but I see the slight bit of color that comes to his face. He knows what video I’m talking about, but he doesn’t know why I’ve brought it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I’m quick to respond, storming over so aggressively he actually flinches. When I’m inches away from him, using the height and size I have on him to my advantage, I lean in giving him my best no-bullshit face.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about Josh. Why bother to deny it now, especially since you’ve already leaked it to certain pa
rties who may be interested?”
Now the confused look is back. At this point, I really do want to smash my fist into it, if only to see what other expressions he can actually manage. “Leaked? Why the hell would I leak it?”
His eyes go wide as soon as he says it, realizing he’s just admitted to owning said video. Even after all this time. “I mean—you know, if I had any video to—”
“Cut the bullshit Josh!” I roar, causing him to go silent with wide-eyed fear. “Right now, you are looking at a minimum of a lawsuit for invasion of privacy. You add blackmail and fraud, not to mention criminal liability for obscenity charges, and you are going to be one sorry, sad son of a bitch, my friend.”
I’m pulling most of this out of my ass, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years of business, it’s that acting like you know what the hell you’re talking about works ninety-nine times out of a hundred.
Josh’s eyes blink in rapid panic. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, listen, man. Okay, just listen!” He holds his hands up to ward off any more legal threats. “Yeah, okay I held on to the damn video, and yes,” he gives me one quick, sheepish look, “I may have stroked one out to it once or twice, just, you know, for nostalgia and shit. It isn’t like she ever let me make another one of her. I mean, I get it. We were young and stupid and—”
“Focus, Josh,” I growl.
He blinks up at me and his shoulders sag in resignation. “I didn’t send it to anyone. Why the hell would I? Simone would kill me if she found out. Wait…does she know about it? Who the hell were they leaked to?”
The bewilderment on his face seems genuine. The sorry son of a bitch has no idea how that video was sent to me. I watch him carefully, just to make sure.
No, Josh may have screwed up big time when it came to cheating on Simone, but he isn’t the one who sent me the video.
Archer: Ex-Bachelor (Ex-Club Romance) Page 16
