Some Lucky Woman

by Carmen DeSousa

  He’d said black tie, and I hadn’t really brought anything black-tie worthy, so I decided to spend the day in Pittsburgh, shopping. I’d only been shopping once since I’d hurt my shoulder kayaking. It had been too difficult to get dressed and undressed, especially in a small dressing room. Not to mention that I’d been utterly mortified when I’d gotten stuck because I couldn’t move my arm and had to call an attendant to assist me.

  Per my request, Brent took me to an upscale mall. I’d never liked boutiques, simply because with my shapely figure, I did better with lots of stores from which to choose. I was a swift shopper, though. I didn’t browse. If I knew I wanted a black dress, I scanned the store quickly, then was on my way. Rarely did a great deal catch my eye. If it wasn’t on my list, I didn’t even look.

  Deciding to do what Connie always begged of me — show off — I chose something I usually would never wear. The mermaid-style, floor-sweeping strapless black gown had an alluring slit surrounded by white ruffles to make sure no one missed it, while the strapless sweetheart bodice did everything possible to show off my breasts. Connie would be pleased.

  In fact, I snapped a selfie in the full-length mirror and sent it to her via a text: Don’t you dare share this anywhere. I’m sure I can find someone to take an actual picture of me tonight.

  There’s the venturous woman I signed, Connie texted back. Now go use that baby! :)

  I laughed, then returned a text: LOL! You can dress a girl up, but that doesn’t mean you can make her dance.

  Don’t I know it! Go! Send me pics later. Love ya.

  I tucked my phone in a black rhinestone-studded purse I’d chosen to match my shoes, then headed for the elevator. Howard said he’d have a car waiting at six o’clock on the dot, and I didn’t want to be early or late, and end up sitting in the lobby, where passersby might stare at me with pity, wondering if I’d been stood up. Or worse, recognize me.

  As soon as the door opened, I saw Howard, leaning up against the opposite wall, looking better than any man had a right to.

  Adrian had been texting me, just with simple remarks. But without warning, they were all forefront in my mind. I wouldn’t do anything without talking with him.

  Yesterday 8:55 AM: Hope you’re having a good time, getting lots done with your book adaptation. Must be exciting. I want you to know that I think about you every day, Jana. I miss my kayak partner, my dinner partner, my movie watcher. But more than anything, I just miss being with you.

  Yesterday 9:47 PM: I’m so sorry, Jana. I know I was wrong. I should have told you. Please forgive me. Please give me another chance. I really do love you.

  Today 8:42 AM: Would you please call me tonight?

  I’d told him honestly: I’ll be back for Thanksgiving. We can talk then. I won’t make any long-term plans for my life before we have a chance to talk.

  That was as honest as I thought I should be. I wasn’t sleeping with Howard, and other than the previous morning, I hadn’t even allowed him to kiss me again. Not that he’d asked when he’d laid that mind-numbing kiss on me, and not that he’d tried again … But, I wanted to be brutally honest with myself too. I wasn’t so ignorant that I didn’t recognize that both of my suitors were incredible men. I loved Adrian, but he’d hurt me, and I needed to make sure that I could forgive him completely before we went any further. But I also needed to make sure that years later I never looked back and regretted not doing something. In the end, I would know which path to take, which man was right for me. I owed it to myself to find out.

  It was time to tear down the walls that I’d built around me, thinking that within them I’d be safe. No matter how beautiful a sanctuary I created, if there were walls around it, from which I couldn’t escape, then it was no different from a prison. If you build walls around yourself, Jana, you will never truly be free, I thought.

  Howard pushed himself off the wall. “Wow …” He took my hand and twirled me. “You are absolutely breathtaking, Jana Embers.”

  This coming from a man who dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. I didn’t hold a candle to most of those women, but Howard’s words rang with sincerity. A warm sensation flooded my cheeks. Howard genuinely seemed to enjoy my company.

  And I enjoyed being with him too, I realized. “Thank you, Howard. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  He kissed my hand and then drew me toward the exit. His car was waiting on the street. He held open the door as I lowered myself inside, careful not to give him a free shot, since the slit crawled halfway up my leg when I sat, something I hadn’t thought about when I’d tried it on, standing up. I would have to remember to do a sit-down test next time.

  As he closed the door, I saw Howard shake his head, and to my surprise, he actually looked sad. I couldn’t understand it, but the last thing I wanted was to be one of those women who always thought she’d done something to displease her man. A man, I quickly corrected myself. Howard Edwards wasn’t my man. Many nights my ex-husband would come home and be so moody that I’d thought I’d done something to upset him. He would always insist that it wasn’t me, that it was just work, but then he’d cheated on me anyway. So I figured, why bother feeling guilty? If I knew I hadn’t done anything, I darn sure wasn’t going to dwell on it.

  Howard hopped inside and turned to me. “You really do look amazing, Jana.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across my cheek. When he pulled back, I saw that glimmer of sadness again.

  No, I wouldn’t assume it was me, but it wouldn’t be right not to inquire. Any friend would do that. “Are you okay? Did something happen today?”

  He shook his head and smiled softly, but his smile looked forced. “Just thinking about life, love. How it can be utterly frustrating, but then so incredibly beautiful.”

  “That’s very true,” I said. “Sometimes you have to grab whatever happiness you can, when you can, and then learn to dodge the barbs as life throws them at you.”

  “I like that.” He kissed me on the lips, but only fleetingly. “I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”

  I laughed. Howard had definitely been around his share of women.

  He shifted the car into drive, peeked over his shoulder, then merged into the busy Pittsburgh traffic. Only a few blocks away from the hotel, Howard pulled directly in front of a restaurant with more of those brass stands with strings of red velvet-covered rope.

  A man on the sidewalk held open the passenger door for me, and I stepped out to hundreds of flashes. “Oh …” Momentarily blinded, I stumbled.

  Howard caught me around my waist, steadying me, turning me away from the onslaught of cameras.

  “Mr. Edwards,” a man called from behind us, “my sources tell me that Jana will be playing the starring role in You Don’t Need a Man. Is that true?”

  Howard stared down at me, and I found it difficult to discern his expression. Had he thought I would spread such a stupid rumor? He didn’t look upset, though; he actually smiled. “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  “If I humor them,” he said.

  Not knowing the protocol for paparazzi, I shrugged.

  Howard turned us, his arm still wrapped around me. His smile widened. He was a natural. “As capable as Ms. Embers is to be cast in the movie, that rumor is not true.”

  “Any chance of other leading roles?” a woman asked, returning Howard’s wide smile, her hand motioning toward his arm around my waist.

  Howard squeezed me tighter, then turned me toward him, immediately locking his lips with mine. And it wasn’t a short peck either. The cameras went wild. Clicks and flashes bombarded my senses, making me envision a scene in a movie where imaginary bubbles of stars and clouds floated above the actors.

  I pulled back, forcing a smile. Why had Howard done that? He knew about Adrian. Knew I wasn’t ready to go further.

  “I can tell you one thing,” Howard said. “If Jana were my woman, I’d never have her wondering if she needed a man.” And with that, he turned, escorting me towar
d the front doors.

  My cheeks grew hot, but no way would I make a scene. Not outside anyway, where the cameras could catch my reaction, giving him what he wanted: publicity.

  Howard kept his arm latched around my waist, almost as though he knew I was ticked and would try to escape any moment. Of course he knew I was ticked. He knew everything about me. He’d said that he wouldn’t allow me to be fed to the wolves, and then he’d gone and made that scene. He might as well have just tossed out fresh meat for the pack.

  The moment we moved through the doors, I scanned the area for my escape. There it was: a restroom sign. “Excuse me. I need to go to the ladies’ room.” I pulled myself free, then charged across the floor the best I could in my new open-toe, four-inch heels with crisscrossing straps. The sparkling crystal brooch that crowned the top was beautiful, but they definitely weren’t made for running. Any second a heel would snap, and I’d feel like Cinderella, running away from her ball.

  “Jana,” Howard said as he followed me across the tile floor, obviously wanting me to stop. I refused to give him what he wanted, another photo-op by causing a scene.

  When I made it to the corridor, I turned on him. “You used me!” I seethed quietly. “Everything! It has all been a great big lie, so you could pull that stunt, hasn’t it?”

  Howard inhaled a deep breath and lifted his chin. “Yes, Jana. That’s exactly what I was doing. Everything I’ve done and said was to make sure I made another successful movie, because that’s what I live for. I told you men were pigs.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

  I sealed my eyes shut, refusing to cry. No way would I give him that response.

  Instead, I walked into the bathroom, checked my appearance, touched up my lipstick, then stormed out of the restroom, determined to keep my head held high. No one would know that I’d been duped. Everyone would see my calm demeanor and assume I was part of the charade, to drum up excitement for the movie.

  As soon as I approached the double doors into the banquet hall, the flashes started again. I forced a smile, then stepped through the entry, leaving the photographers behind. I scanned the room for Howard. His back was toward me. Even better. I walked in his direction, assuming I’d be eating at his table. I would stroll right up to him and wrap my arms around his waist this time.

  A vice-like grip on my upper arm stopped my trek. I whipped my head around to see that the athletic blonde from the theater — Jennifer, I’d heard Howard call her — had grabbed me.

  Jennifer released her grip. “He’s dying, you know. He doesn’t need some new bimbo screwing with his head.”

  “Excuse me,” I said in a low growl. “First, who’s dying? Second, who’s a bimbo? I know you’re not calling me a bimbo.” Without warning, I’d regressed into the hard-core cocktail waitress of my youth.

  Jennifer softened her face, so evidently she’d seen me throw up my guard. “Sorry … You’re not a bimbo. But he doesn’t need you screwing with his head, then leaving him.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not screwing with anyone … Who’s dying?” I repeated.

  “Howard,” she said. He has less than a year —”

  I broke off her words with a gasp, then clasped my hand over my mouth. Howard was dying? No. I didn’t believe it. “If that’s true, why would he tell you?” Or was this another publicity scheme? Maybe all those stupid stories in the tabloids weren’t made up after all. Maybe people like Howard started rumors on purpose.

  Jennifer directed me to a chair. “I didn’t figure he’d tell you.”

  Would he really have said all those things … just to make me think he was interested, so he could pull that stunt tonight? Was making one more hit movie that important to him? Unable to comprehend his actions, I just shook my head.

  “He’s in love with you, you know,” Jennifer whispered.

  My head jerked up. “He doesn’t even know me …” Love me? He doesn’t even like me, I realized. Someone who cared at all about you wouldn’t treat you like that. It was all just a publicity stunt. He’d proven that outside.

  Jennifer stood swiftly, then touched me beneath my chin. “Try not to break what little is left of his fragile life.” Then she whirled away from me, the flared fabric at the bottom of her black pantsuit whooshing as she glided across the room.

  I watched her backside as she walked away from me, wondering why she would tell me that Howard loved me and not to hurt him if she was interested in Howard as I originally thought.

  Howard’s words from the Speakeasy came back to me, It’s the women who can’t be bought that men want … Is that what Howard thought of me? Had the fierce independence and stubborn attitude of my character in You Don’t Need a Man make him think that I was an untouchable woman?

  Had Adrian got the wrong idea about me too, assumed I was callous, that I didn’t care what a man — any man — thought about me, so I wouldn’t care that his wife had asked for a divorce after reading something I wrote?

  Just because I’d learned how to take care of myself and live life without a man — not that that was apparent based on my current behavior — didn’t mean that I was a scorned woman. I was still just me, the same girl who’d fallen in love and married too young because I believed in love. Deep down I was just a girl who desired a man to love and respect me. Was that too much to want? Was that too much to expect out of a relationship?

  No, it wasn’t. And I’d never believe it was. I’d stay single the rest of my life before I gave into a relationship with a man who wasn’t willing to love me for me and work as hard as I did to make a relationship work.

  My eyes went in search of Howard again. He stood at the end of a bar, a glass of red wine in his hand. So … he liked red wine anyway. It was a stupid thing for me to care about one way or another, but I just hated the idea that he’d lied about everything. I wanted to believe that when he’d said I’d done a good job with my research that he’d been telling the truth. That when he’d wanted to take me to a place he loved that he’d been telling the truth. I just didn’t want to believe that every man lied to a woman just to get what he wanted, and worse, that I was foolish enough to believe it. I wanted to believe that I could trust my judgment that Howard had really liked me. Even if he had set up that stunt outside, I just couldn’t believe that Howard had made up everything else.

  His eyes met mine as I stared at him. He held up his glass to me. Was he toasting me? For having the guts not to run?

  My eyes burned, but I fanned them to keep the tears at bay. Yes, I was mad that he’d used me outside, had made me care about him, but I was more upset that he was dying. Regardless of what he’d done, he was giving me my dream. And my movie would probably be his last. Was it so wrong that he wanted it to be a success?

  Howard held up a glass of wine for me as I approached. “Thank you for joining me. I thought I was going to have to chase you down like the prince did in Cinderella.”

  That particular piece of information, Howard hadn’t read anywhere. And unless he was a mind reader, he couldn’t have known that Cinderella was my favorite fairy tale growing up. I’d never told anyone that I felt my life was a lot like Cinderella as a child. I’d never wanted anyone to feel sorry for me, or think that I felt sorry for myself.

  I figured I should keep up my snark. The last thing I wanted was for him to know that I knew about his illness. He wouldn’t want me to feel sorry for him either, I was sure. “Is that what you are, Howard? Do you think that you’re my knight in shining armor?”

  He stepped forward, closing the distance, handing me the glass. “If only …”

  Accepting the glass, I tipped back the red liquid, appreciating the familiar warmth.

  “Just for tonight, Jana, can we hide behind our masks?” He took my empty glass from me and set it on the table, then held his hand out to me. “Dance with me.”

  How could I deny Howard this? He was dying, and yet, he wanted to spend his final moments with me … making my film. He could dance with anyone he
re, and he wanted to dance with me.

  I rested my hand in his. “We can pretend. Just for tonight, Howard, we can hide behind our masks.”

  Tomorrow, I would start my new life. Tonight, I’d play the princess in a fairy tale.

  Chapter 38 – Worth Fighting For

  The next morning, I woke up with determination. Even before I drank the coffee that I’d scheduled for room service to bring, I’d showered and packed up all of my belongings.

  Last night I’d texted Brent, asking him to be here at seven a.m., but he’d apologized, saying he had an appointment first thing in the morning, but that he could be here by eleven.

  It didn’t really matter. I planned to head to the airport and get on stand-by, but early-morning flights were usually booked to capacity anyway.

  I glanced around the hotel room, which had just started to feel comfortable. It’d be nice to get home, though. I missed Eric, J’Austen, Angela and, more than anything, I missed Adrian.

  Our relationship may have begun on a bad note, but I loved him. I truly, truly loved Adrian, the reason that even when I thought Howard had an interest in me, I’d held back. Even though Adrian and I had never made a commitment, I felt the connection; we were one.

  Adrian hadn’t asked his wife for a divorce, and as far as I could tell, he hadn’t cheated on her. She just wanted something other than him.

  Well, I didn’t want anything other than Adrian. I knew what was out there, had dated plenty. And other than Adrian not telling me the whole truth, he’d never hidden his feelings from me. I knew from our first date that he didn’t hate me, even if he’d wanted to hold me responsible.

  Pushing the side of my iPhone, I checked the time. 10:55. Brent had always been punctual.

  I rolled my luggage out the door of the hotel room and pushed the button for the elevator.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I tapped the button for the lobby. I felt bad for leaving Howard like this, but Jennifer was right. I couldn’t hurt him. Even if he’d been pretending his affection for me, I couldn’t yell at him. He got what he wanted, and hopefully, it’d make the movie tickets soar. He deserved to have one final blockbuster. I really didn’t care if I made a cent; I was just happy that he’d made my dream come to fruition.