Some Lucky Woman

by Carmen DeSousa

  “You lied to me.”

  Adrian sighed through the phone, apparently exasperated. “Okay, I’ll admit, I withheld the truth. But I didn’t lie. I didn’t hate you, Jana. How could I hate someone I didn’t even know?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Jana, please … Lena was right. You were right. My wife and I had nothing in common. She hated the outdoors, so I gave up kayaking. She’s lactose intolerant, so I gave up pizza. She’s allergic to cats, so I left my cat with my parents. But it wasn’t enough. After college, we just drifted apart, but neither of us wanted to admit it. When she read your book —” I sucked in a breath to object, but he quickly continued, “I’m not blaming you, Jana. You were right. I’m just trying to explain. Something I should have done two months ago, I know. I just … I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

  A stream of tears rolled down my cheeks, but I refused to let him hear me cry. “I just don’t know how I can trust a man who didn’t tell me he was married,” I said, then hung up.

  I needed time. If Adrian wasn’t willing to wait for me to figure out everything, then he wasn’t worth pursuing anyway. Regardless of what Angela or Adrian thought, he’d lied to me. Maybe I was stubborn, but I felt I had to be.

  Respect. I had to respect myself first if I expected anyone else to respect me. And I wasn’t sure how to respect myself if I went from one liar to another.

  I deserved better.

  Chapter 29 – Speakeasy

  The bubble bath wasn’t all I’d wanted it to be. Not after taking Adrian’s call. He’d hurt me, but I knew I still loved him. I just wasn’t sure how I could forgive him that easily. If I acted as though nothing was wrong, he’d think that it was okay to lie to me. And I’d be damned if I’d ever put myself in that situation again.

  A quick glance at the clock made me realize that, as always, I was running late. Howard Edwards was supposed to meet me in the hotel bar at seven o’clock sharp, according to Anna’s instructions.

  I riffled through my clothes for something to wear that wasn’t wrinkled. Most of my preferred clothes were cotton, which wrinkled easily, or T-shirts, which were entirely too casual to wear to a first meeting with a world-famous producer.

  I decided on a sheer, russet-colored, button-to-the-top blouse over a matching camisole and my ever-present yoga pants. At least the sleek black pants had a slight sheen to them, plus they rested directly on my hips and flared at my ankles, giving me a slimmer and taller appearance. And coupling the outfit with four-inch, ankle-high boots actually gave it a classy look.

  I nodded at my reflection in the mirror. Not too bad. No way could I ever compete with the runway models Howard Edwards dated, but I hoped he’d at least see me as a professional.

  After touching up my makeup, mostly just more mascara and lipstick, I rushed from my hotel room to the elevator.

  My destination, the Speakeasy, was located below the lobby. Apparently, the area, which used to be an actual speakeasy during prohibition, had been used for storage for years. Only in the last few years had the hotel remodeled it. I couldn’t wait to see it with my own eyes.

  As an author, I was always on the lookout for unique places, establishments that my readers would enjoy reading about, possibly even visiting. Many readers had sent me images of them visiting the places I mentioned in my books, which I pinned to my Pinterest board. A couple of times, readers had even planned their vacations around the cities I’d written about in my novels.

  The moment I entered the lounge, I felt as though I’d truly been whisked back to the 1920s. I could imagine a time-travel romance novel, where the heroine is innocently sipping a cocktail, then suddenly finds herself whooshed back to 1920.

  Ooh … I like the sound of that.

  As always, I pulled my iPhone out of the side pocket on my tiny purse and jotted down the idea in my notes.

  After I finished adding the note, I scanned the small room that couldn’t seat more than forty or fifty people, I’d guess. I liked that too. I’d always preferred cozy little getaways.

  With luxuriously upholstered high-back and wing-back chairs in a deep scarlet fabric and long dark wood pews with plush red cushions on the backrests, all encircled by velvet-flocked wallcovering and a tin-tiled ceiling, the room quietly-screamed noir era. I loved it!

  In my sweep of the room, I didn’t see anyone resembling the great Howard Edwards, though. Just a few couples at tables and several men dressed in business attire sitting around the bar. Behind the bartender, small wooden barrels and bottles of classic liquors — mostly gin, scotch, and whiskey, not fancy flavored vodkas and schnapps — graced small lighted alcoves.

  Since I didn’t want to make myself look available, I chose to sit in one of a pair of wingback chairs with a small round table between them. I’d forgotten to bring my wedding ring set, something I normally wore when researching bars. It was so much easier to dissuade a man when I was wearing the large diamond ring and matching band Dick had purchased for our fifteenth anniversary, right before I found out he’d cheated on me. He must have been feeling guilty to have spent so much money on an anniversary set I’d never requested.

  Wanting at least one drink before I met Howard, I picked up the tiny menu. It seemed that even the drinks were in the spirit of the twenties. Only a small selection of cocktails were available. The only drink I recognized was a whiskey sour, though, so when the cocktail waitress appeared, I ordered that in the tallest glass the bar had. I wasn’t a whiskey drinker; wine was my drink of choice. In my current mood, if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up saying something to Howard I’d regret about the male population.

  An hour and a half and three gentle rejections to strangers buying me drinks later, Howard Edwards was soon to be on my naughty list. I checked my phone for the fifth time to see if I’d missed a call, then cursed softly as I realized I’d forgotten to switch my phone off airplane mode, recognizable only by the tiny plane at the top of the screen.

  I clicked through the settings and swiped the tab with a vicious finger, as if it were the iPhone’s fault I’d forgotten to switch it back.

  The phone soared to life with missed calls and messages, one from Adrian, several from Angela, and three from an unknown caller from the 724 area code.

  Although the music wasn’t loud in the speakeasy, I plugged my right ear as I lifted the phone to my left ear. I clicked on the last message.

  “Jana, so sorry I keep missing you. This is Howard. I’ve run into an issue, and it appears I won’t be able to make it this evening. I’m truly sorry. I was really looking forward to meeting you before we started working. Again, please accept my apology. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Humph! Don’t that beat all!” I grumbled under my breath. “Men! They are all alike. Every last one of them.”

  Oh, well, I didn’t have to drive anywhere. I waved at the waitress, then pointed to my drink, making a circling motion with my fingers. Apparently she caught my drift, because she turned and headed toward the service bar.

  Maybe I should have accepted a few of those free drinks, along with anything else the men might have been offering. Maybe it was time I turned the tables and took something I wanted.

  Could I do it? Could I sleep with a man whom I wasn’t in a relationship with?

  I leaned back in my chair, allowing my eyes to drift around the lounge again, looking for anything … intriguing. My eyes stopped on one particular man who seemed to be looking directly at me.

  Our eyes met, and he smiled.

  I returned his smile, and he immediately stood up and walked toward me.

  Out of habit, I turned to look behind me, certain he hadn’t accepted my invitation so easily. Some beautiful woman must be standing behind me.

  No one was there. Only a wall. I looked back in the man’s direction. He was tall and lean, but not skinny. His dark hair had a spattering of gray, and the deep laugh lines at the edges of his eyes told me he was probably in his late forties or early fifties, and wo
rked outside. He wore jeans, but based on the perfect fit, they were expensive designer jeans.

  “Hello …” the mystery man said as he sat down across from me. He stretched out his arm, offering me his hand. “I’m Jack.”

  I stared at Jack for a second before accepting his outstretched hand. He wore a denim shirt, rolled up just below the elbow. Jack looked like a businessman, but thankfully, not a car salesman. No, he looked like a man who owned a construction company or maybe a farm. Not a man who plowed through dirt and concrete all day, but a man who oversaw the work, someone who’d worked his way up in the world. I liked a man who’d worked for his money.

  I accepted his handshake. “Hi. I’m Jana.” I’d been right. Jack’s hand was large and powerful, but while his palm had evidence of calluses, they weren’t sharp like the ones on my father’s hands. Up until the day my father had died from a heart attack, he’d worked.

  “Can I buy you a drink, Jana?”

  “No, but thanks. I just ordered one.”

  Jack leaned back in his chair. “So who’s the unlucky guy?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What’s the name of the guy who’d be so stupid to stand up a beautiful woman? It’s hard to imagine that you’d have to use a dating site, so I’m guessing the man knows you and must be downright crazy.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. It wasn’t like that. I had a business meeting, and he got held up.”

  Jack nodded, but his eyes revealed that he didn’t believe me.

  Appalled that this stranger would question the validity of my words, I narrowed my eyes, ready to release the ire that had been building up in me for days … years. “You don’t believe me?”

  He shrugged. “Based on your reaction to your last phone call, no.”

  Man, this guy had a lot of nerve. To … to … I didn’t even know why I was so mad or what I wanted to say. I closed my eyes, attempting not to spout off at this … this man who was so bold that he’d walk up to a woman’s table and accuse her of lying. Me, lying? After I’d been lied to numerous times by his kind. Yes, his kind. Men were obviously another species.

  I opened my eyes, ready to let him have it, but my waitress was setting my drink in front of me.

  Jack looked up at the young woman, but only fleetingly, then said, “Put Jana’s drink on my tab, and bring me another, please.” And then his eyes turned back to me. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Jana. I was only speaking from what I saw. You’ve been sitting here for more than an hour, occasionally jotting notes on your phone, rejecting every man who’s approached you, and darting your eyes to the door every time it has opened, so yes, I assumed you were waiting on a date.”

  Not sure how to take what he’d said, I picked up my glass. I’d already had too many drinks, so now wasn’t a good time to try to make sense of his words, nor should I be sitting alone with such an attractive man.

  I set the drink on the glass tabletop. “Fair enough. But just so you know, it was a business meeting, and I’m not necessarily mad at the man whom I was supposed to meet. I’m mad at all men. And not that it matters, but I never lie. Well, I fib on occasion, but who doesn’t? At least I don’t lie to someone, knowing it’ll hurt them. Or keep secrets from the one I supposedly love.”

  Realizing I was blubbering, I looked up at Jack, not surprised to see his eyes had widened at my torrent of words. Good! That should get rid of him! Nothing like a scorned woman to send a man running for the hills.

  Instead of running, he laughed. “You’re a mess!”

  Oh, no he didn’t! “What? I’m not a mess,” I almost shouted. Who the hell does this man think he is? “I’ll have you know that I’m very well put together. I’ve run my life perfectly for five years without a man.” I had a good mind to throw the rest of my drink on him, but the idea of doing something so cliché kept my hands glued to the table. Connie would be appalled if I wrote something like that, so certainly, I couldn’t do it, even though my muscles ached to fling the cold, sticky sour mix in his direction.

  Jack reached across the table, covering my clenched fist. “Again, I’m sorry if I offended you. Would you like me to leave?”

  Swallowing hard, I stared up at him. His hazel eyes glistened in the muted light. I didn’t want him to go; it’d be nice to talk to someone. But now my fury was fading to something much worse: self-pity. The last thing I needed was a handsome man near me when I was feeling sorry for myself.

  Jack shook his head. “You know … Whoever he is — the man who hurt you — he doesn’t deserve you. You’re clearly a passionate woman, and you don’t deserve to be lied to.” He patted my hand again. “People think that country boys are ignorant, because we’ve grown up on farms and work hard for a living, but we know how to treat women.”

  I smiled. “Are you from here, Jack?”

  “Yes. ’Bout an hour east. I run a dairy farm that’s been in my family for four generations. I’m here for a convention, and it’s just easier to stay the night.”

  I nodded. “Are you married?”

  He shook his head and huffed. “Not hardly. I wouldn’t be sitting and talking with you if I was married.”

  “Hmm …”

  Jack sighed. “You’re like a wild horse that’s been broken, Jana. Someone has taken your spirit.”

  “That’s about right.” I looked back up at the soft patches of gray in his close-shaven beard. His friendly, laid-back demeanor. “It doesn’t seem possible that a man your age isn’t married.”

  Jack dipped his head slightly. “My wife died of cancer five years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry …”

  “It’s okay. Life happens. It’s taken a while, but life goes on, even after the pain.” He picked up my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t give up. Not all men are bad, I swear.”

  I looked at Jack with sad eyes, wishing I could believe him.

  Jack stood and extended his hand to me again. “You’ve had a lot to drink. How ’bout you allow me to escort you back to your room?”

  For some strange reason, I trusted Jack. He actually reminded me of my father. “My tab …”

  Jack waved at the waitress, and she seemed to understand. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d realized I’d had too much to drink.

  At my door, I turned to him. “Thank you, Jack.”

  “You’re welcome, Jana.” He kissed me on the forehead, then strolled off toward the elevator.

  I stepped inside my room thinking, Even though Jack’s wife passed away at a young age, she probably felt like a lucky woman.

  Chapter 30 – Hangover in HELL

  My iPhone alarm blared out the annoying chirp I’d chosen so I wouldn’t be able to sleep through it. Reaching over, I attempted to grab it off the nightstand, but it fell through my hands. The irritating thing continued to blare, then finally stopped.

  I’d ignore it and go back to sleep, but the blasted thing would go off again in nine minutes. Besides, I had to help Howard Edwards and crew choose a cast.

  Of course, he’d stood me up last night, so maybe I should do the same thing to him. After all, part of the reason I had a massive hangover was because of him. If Howard had shown up, I wouldn’t have ordered the second, third, and then fourth whiskey sour.

  One by one, I moved my legs to the side of the bed, but then I just sat there, my head lowered. The throbbing in my skull was intense. I reached for the glass of water I’d set on the nightstand and downed the entire glass, wishing it would appease my parched mouth.

  Drugs. I needed painkillers — STAT. I wasn’t supposed to take ibuprofen for six months after my shoulder surgery, but this was an emergency.

  Digging through my tote bag, I found the tube of Advil I always kept. I popped four, then headed to the bathroom and refilled my glass with tap water. The sweet coating started to dissolve on my tongue, so I waited a couple of seconds, hoping that the medicine would get into my bloodstream faster.

  How in the hell was I going to make it through the day?

>   H.E.II, I laughed and the effort made my head hurt more than it already did. Howard Edwards the Second had probably heard the joke about his initials as a kid so many times that he decided to use it.

  Smart. Almost made me respect the man. Humph! He was probably just like every other man I’d met, only worse, because he was rich.

  I thought about Jack … He seemed like a good man. Someday, some lucky woman would benefit from his kind heart.

  Some lucky woman … Sometimes it seemed that love and life were just a matter of luck and timing. How would things have advanced if I’d met Adrian after his divorce had finalized? Had Adrian been right? Had his sullen behavior on my first appointment propelled me to try to talk to him? Or what if I’d never married Dick and had met Adrian after I’d graduated and was working in a career? Would we have been attracted to each other if we hadn’t been thrust together by a shoulder injury and his contempt?

  Luck didn’t matter, my life might not be much, but it was my life. And I wouldn’t change it, even if I could. Angela was my life. Her kids were my life. My son, although we didn’t see each other much anymore, was my life.

  Someday Eric would marry and have children, and then I’d be a grandmother, and somehow I knew that would breathe new life back into my tired old one.

  And Adrian … I knew I was still in love with him, regardless of the fact that I was mad at him. Whether there was a chance of us ever working out was irrelevant. I knew that when I returned home, I had to try.

  After washing yesterday’s woes down the drain in a steaming hot shower, I set out for today’s adventure. I’d waited years for this moment, and it was finally happening.

  Not only had my book been chosen by HELL Pictures, I was getting a chance to help choose who’d play the major roles.

  I pushed the button for the lobby in the old-fashioned elevator, then looked around as it descended, since I knew it was a slow elevator. Although I was certain it wasn’t the original elevator, it could have been with its wainscoted walls, brass handrails, plush Oriental carpeting. As with everything at the hotel, time seemed to have stopped, as if frozen in a simpler day and age.