Some Lucky Woman

by Carmen DeSousa

  In fact, Adrian was at the top of the list of things I hated these days.

  He’d called me every day for the last week, and I’d repeatedly ignored his calls and then deleted his messages. I didn’t want to hear why he’d felt the need to lie to me.

  Maybe he hadn’t really cheated on his wife. Based on her reaction, she probably knew he was seeing someone when he didn’t come home night after night. She certainly didn’t seem upset that Adrian had chased me out the door.

  But still, he’d lied to me. An omission of the truth was just as much of a lie as if he’d lied.

  No, I hadn’t asked him if he was married, but several times I’d asked him why he hated me at first. Adrian had insisted that he didn’t hate me, and that was a bold-faced lie!

  He’d hated me before I even stepped into his office. Hated my face. Hated the fact that his wife had read my book and decided she didn’t want to be married. Nothing in my book suggested that a woman should leave her husband. It was about living your life for you, learning to enjoy life without the stigma that you had to be married by a certain age, have children by a certain age.

  Then, when you meet the person who enjoys the things you do and loves you for who you are, more than likely he’s the man you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with, instead of getting married because you need a man to complete you.

  It wasn’t my fault that Dr. Lena Kijek married a man she didn’t love, whom she supposedly had nothing in common with, and then used my book as an excuse to end her marriage.

  Ugh! Lies! I hated lies.

  While I continued to seethe, wondering why people were so untrustworthy, passengers around me gathered up their belongings as the jet continued its taxi to the terminal.

  I sat stock-still as men and women buzzed about me. Like worker bees. Villeins that would spend their entire lives thinking they were free, but only living to serve others.

  Sadly, that’s what I felt like. I’d given my husband everything, physically and mentally. I lived to make him and my son happy. In return I felt happy, loved, needed. Until he’d tossed our marriage to the side, as though it were yesterday’s trash, that is.

  And I would have given Adrian the same thing. It’s the way I was created. I wanted to make the man I loved happy. I’d thought that I’d gotten it right this time. Adrian and I enjoyed the same things, were comfortable just being together. The start of my relationship with my ex-husband had mostly been about attraction, then sex. I thought that maybe Adrian had been onto something when he’d suggested that we wait to take our relationship to the next level … that sex changes everything. He’d been right. We’d gotten to know each other the old-fashioned way, and I’d been ready to make a commitment.

  But just like my ex-husband, I hadn’t been important enough. Adrian hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth, which made me feel … worthless, unnecessary, replaceable.

  Why even bother to move from my seat? How was I going to help sell a movie about a woman who’d conquered divorce when I was an absolute wreck over a man I’d known for only a couple of months?

  “You need help with your bags, ma’am?” asked a young — very young — man in military drab.

  Without thinking, I smiled, wondering if my son was as polite as this young man. I doubted it. Eric loved me and treated me well, but I could already see how he treated women; he was a lot like my ex-husband.

  “Thank you,” I said, not moving from my safe place. “No, I’m good. Just thinking.”

  The young man tipped his head as though he were wearing a hat, but didn’t move on. Instead, he blocked the aisle of waiting passengers and waved me forward.

  Realizing what he was doing, I jumped up. Thankfully, I’d only brought my laptop tote with me.

  As I exited the plane, I turned. “Thank you for your service.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, then jogged off.

  As I watched the young man trot off, I thought, He’ll probably make some lucky woman a wonderful husband someday.

  Respect. The number one rule, my father had always said. When I turned sixteen and started to go out on dates, I asked my father, What time do I need to be home? He just looked at me and said, What time do you think you should be home?

  I never answered his question, but found myself always coming home by eleven. It felt like the right time. He’d never given me any rules to follow, but said to me once, There really only needs to be one law, Jana. I stared at him. My father was a man of few words. Respect, he’d said after a few seconds of my intense gaze. If you respect someone, you won’t lie to them, hurt them, steal from them, cheat on them … I’d seen him go from one woman to another, one job to the next, and almost every time it was because his boss or his current woman hadn’t respected him, or respected the way he wanted to live his life.

  Apparently Aretha Franklin had known that rule, too. Respect.

  I realized that was all I wanted from a man too. I wanted him to respect me. To respect the work I did, to not lie, to not cheat. Really! Was that too much to ask? No, it wasn’t. Everyone deserved to be respected.

  With that thought, I held my head up higher than it had been in a week. I respected myself; I respected others. I wouldn’t accept anything less from here on out.

  I glanced up at the arriving flights board, searching for my baggage claim number.

  As I made my way to the carousel, I spotted a short line of well-dressed men and women holding up electronic tablets or small white boards with names of people typed out in bold black font. Howard’s personal assistant, Anna, had told me that she’d have a car waiting, so I was certain this would be where I’d find my driver.

  At that thought, I spotted an extremely tall man with pale white skin wearing an all black suit. He held an iPad in front of him with my name written in large script typeface.

  Ooh, that’s me!

  Unlike the other drivers, who craned their heads to see around the crowds, the man waiting for me stood motionless. So immobile and fake-looking with his alabaster skin that he could have been a mannequin.

  Deciding I should make contact before seeking my luggage, I stopped in front of him. I wasn’t sure if I should nudge him a tad before speaking. I’d hate to be caught talking to a piece of plastic.

  Since it’d be rude to touch someone I didn’t know, though, I decided to just introduce myself. “Hi! I’m Jana Embers.”

  The man stared down from his close-to-seven-foot stature. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Embers. Do you have your bags yet?”

  “No,” I said, doing my best to hold in a giggle. The man reminded me of Lurch from The Addams Family. “I just saw you here, and thought …” Not sure how to finish that statement, I just let my words trail off.

  Lurch waited a second, then said, “Please point out your bags to me, then.”

  “Just one bag, but I have to find the right section.” Assuming he’d follow, I strolled off toward the different conveyor belts, searching for the correct number, making sure the flight number matched.

  We watched in silence. I was pretty sure Lurch, aka Brent according to his nametag, wasn’t supposed to fraternize with his fares, since he stood tall and straight, lips pursed, similar to a sentry standing guard in front of a castle.

  “That’s it!” I pointed to my steel-blue Nautica bag that I’d bought at Ross, mainly because I couldn’t comprehend paying thousands of dollars for a Gucci bag. Plus, I liked the fact that the color stood out amongst the sea of black luggage.

  Lurch — rather, Brent — easily pulled my fifty-pounds-on-the-nose piece of luggage off the belt. I really needed to stop calling people by what they reminded me of. One day I would screw up and say something aloud. Then again, maybe Brent wouldn’t mind being called Lurch, since clearly, he was doing his best to project that image.

  Brent dipped his head slightly. “Right this way, Ms. Embers.”

  I followed him, appreciating the fact that he addressed me as Ms., not missis or ma’am. Not t
hat I minded when the soldier had called me ma’am, but if a person knew your name or title, he should use it. Ahh … that respect thing again.

  An image of Adrian flashed in my head. His cold look on the first day in his office when he didn’t even bother to introduce himself. But then that image quickly disappeared as his roguish smile when I’d been self-conscious, trapped between him and his truck when he’d driven me home, popped into my head. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the feel of his breath on my neck as he whispered, I don’t hate you, Jana.

  But you did, Adrian. And if you’d been honest with me, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

  I whipped my head back and forth to remove the image, feel, and scent of Adrian from my brain. I had a job to do.

  Brent directed me toward sliding glass doors that led outside. “Follow me, please.”

  Without a word, I followed. Really, what was there to say? As I walked through the door, I tugged my coat tighter around my neck. Thankfully, I’d thought to check the forecast before packing. It wasn’t freezing, but as I’d told Adrian, I was a Florida girl. Fifty degrees was downright freezing to me.

  Brent led me to a shiny black Town Car. Not a limousine, which was fine with me. I always felt silly sitting in the back, especially if I was by myself.

  He opened the door, revealing lush black leather seats. I hopped in and stretched back, thinking I could take a nap. I hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, and I never could sleep on a plane. The non-stop two-and-a-half-hour flight wasn’t too bad, but even short flights exhausted me. Maybe it was the anxiety or the fact that I had to stand up and stretch every fifteen minutes or so.

  The leather seats in the Town Car were soft and plush. I inhaled, relishing the bouquet of floras, blackberries, old wood, and leather. To my delight, the car smelled like the library I used to go to when I was a child. My ex-husband had said that the new car scent was as important to potential buyers as available options, even if a buyer didn’t realize it, the reason manufacturers treated their interiors with unique scents.

  The scent made me want to close my eyes and drift away, remembering the storytellers from my youth, the women at the library who’d instilled in me a love of books.

  Anna had said that is was a forty-five-minute ride to the hotel. Long enough to catch a nap before I had to meet Howard. How ironic that a man who stood for everything I loathed about the male species was the person responsible for bringing my book to life, a book about not dating just to date and having sex. A book about finding yourself before attempting a relationship, and then making certain the person you allowed to get close to you enjoys the things you do.

  Howard Edwards the Second had a new starlet — who was usually twenty years his junior — for every season of the year, it seemed. I wondered what his current calendar girl would look like.

  Chapter 28 - The Steel City

  As much as I wanted to sleep, I found myself gazing out the rear windows of the Town Car. I’d never been to the Steel City before. I was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan simply because my father had been a fan and because my ex hated the Steelers. When my father had been alive, it had been a fun rivalry between Dick and my father.

  When the Tampa Bay Bucs played the Steelers, inevitably that was a bigger cookout than the Fourth of July or Memorial Day. I had to pull out all the stops, as it was a special day for both the men in my life. I was almost grateful that my father hadn’t lived to see what Dick had done to me. The two men had always gotten along. Actually, since Dick had never had a father figure, he and my father had done many father-son activities together over the years. If my father had been alive, he probably would have whupped my ex-husband’s ass from Tampa Bay to Pittsburgh for cheating on me.

  I fanned my eyes, I didn’t care to think about any of the men in my life. Not when such beauty was at hand. I had no idea Pittsburgh was so breathtaking. Everywhere I looked, a tapestry of autumn colors greeted me from the steep hills surrounding the city.

  And bridges. Grand suspension bridges in varying heights and colors crossed the two wide flowing rivers that flanked the city. What a sight the residents in the homes atop the cliffs surrounding the city must have.

  Brent made his way through the busy, but — unlike New York — not congested streets. He turned down a one-way street lined with yellow taxicabs, then stopped in front of a twenty-something-story building.

  Although the one-hundred-year-old hotel looked modern with bright canopies, newly-casted terra cotta cornices, and shiny bronze swag lanterns, all pieces looked like replicas from old-world hotels. Even the limestone and red-brick exterior, while pristine looking, spoke softly of days gone by. A simpler, but certainly grander day and age, when service was job one. And from what I’d read online about the hotel, I certainly couldn’t wait to experience all that the establishment had to offer.

  My driver held open the door, and I stepped out, intending to look sophisticated and regal as I made my way to the William Penn. Unfortunately, a brisk November wind whooshed by me, sending me hurtling toward the doorman as I clutched my wool coat tightly around my neck.

  “Good afternoon,” the doorman said, clearly attempting to hold his smile at bay. Apparently, today was just another autumn day, since he worked without wearing an overcoat.

  As soon as I stepped into the lobby, warm air scented with lavender and chamomile, enveloped me. My eyes fell on an oval banquette in the center of the grand two-story room, surrounded by tables with what looked like a set-up for afternoon tea.

  I’d died and gone to Author Heaven. I loved my coffee, but nothing quite held a candle to stopping in the middle of the day, and just relaxing while sipping a cup of hot herbal tea.

  Brent strolled in behind me, handing me a card. “Please just give me about a thirty-minute window if you wish to go anywhere.”

  I accepted the card. “Oh … Umm … You’ll be back for me?”

  “I’m at your service for your entire stay, Ms. Embers.”

  “Thank you.” I fumbled in my tote for a tip, pulling out a bill and offering it to Brent.

  “No.” Brent waved off the bill. “Thank you, though.”

  “But if you don’t have any fares other than me …”

  Brent shook his head as he said, “I never have any other fares, ma’am. I am a driver for Mr. Edwards, but he insisted that I be at your service for the next two weeks.”

  “Well, I thank you, then.” I leaned forward. “And, Brent, call me Jana. Also, I’m positive I won’t be going anywhere tonight, so feel free to be comfortable wherever you are.”

  “Thank you, Jana. I’ll be here to pick you up at eight a.m. tomorrow, then.”

  I smiled and waved a goodbye, watching as a bellman stood sentry over my one piece of luggage. I wasn’t usually the type of woman who allowed everyone to carry my luggage. It just seemed silly when my suitcase had perfectly good wheels. But since the young man looked expectant, I walked toward the front desk to check in.

  Within minutes, I was on my way. Anna had taken care of everything.

  The bellman escorted me to my room. He held the door, rolled in my bag, and then hefted the fifty-pound piece onto a luggage stand.

  I smiled, pleased with his service, and handed him a tip, which of course, he accepted. “Thank you.”

  The room was small but cozy. Warm-toned fabrics and rich dark wood gave it an old-time elegant feel. This was just what I needed.

  I didn’t have to meet Howard Edwards until this evening, so I had time to relax and unwind. A hot bubble bath was long overdue.

  As I started to undress, the phone on the nightstand rang. I just stared at it. Not wanting to discuss business, I considered ignoring it. In a few hours, I’d be back in the thick of things, dealing with Howard, which I was sure would be … interesting, to say the least. It was probably Anna, though. More than likely, she just wanted to make sure I’d arrived safely, with no issues. And she had done a marvelous job with the hotel selection.

  Decided, I
picked up the phone. I’d feign exhaustion and get back to my plans of a bubble bath. Well, feign wasn’t a stretch. I really was tired. Probably more mentally than physically.

  “Hello?”

  “You left town?”

  “Adrian?”

  “Yes. I can’t believe you refused to take my calls, and then just left town. And for two weeks?” His tone held an irritated edge. The one thing about Adrian, I never had to wonder what he was thinking. Too bad I couldn’t say the same thing about his life. His emotions were easy to read, but sadly, that hadn’t given me insight to the fact that he was a married man; though, his actions should have. The fact that he’d always come to my house should have been my first clue.

  I plopped down on the bed. The last thing I wanted was to have a conversation with the man I was in hate with, but I had to know … “How did you find me?”

  “I called you when you didn’t show up for your appointments. Then today, your number went straight to voicemail when I tried to call, so I followed our office policy: I called your emergency contact.”

  I sighed. Angela was my emergency contact, and of course she’d be happy to tell Adrian where I was. She thought I’d overreacted. If her Mr. Wonderful ever cheated on her, maybe she’d feel differently about men who lied.

  “That’s because my phone was on airplane mode. I can’t believe you tracked me down. Certainly, my cousin told you all that you needed to know as my doctor. I’m alive, obviously. You didn’t need to track me down in Pittsburgh.” I couldn’t believe that Angela had given him my hotel too. What could she have been thinking?

  “Jana, please …” Adrian said, his voice softer. “I’m sorry. Please listen to me. I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to tell you. And I would have. I swear I planned to tell you. But the court date was so close that I figured it’d be easier to tell you I was a divorced man, instead of having to go into all the other sordid details.”

  “But you lied to me —”

  “No, I didn’t. I just didn’t want to admit to you why I was so angry that first day.”