Torn Hearts

by M. E. Gordon

  I chewed nervously on the inside of my lip, embarrassed by how long he stared at me. He finally walked around Gia. Practically brushing her aside and coming straight for me, he took my hand in his and kissed it softly.

  “Wow, you look beautiful,” he said, with a surprised inflection to his voice.

  What the hell? Did he expect me to look like shit? Maybe this is a mistake.

  “Are you ready to go? I got us a reservation,” he said, clearing his throat, so his voice went back to normal.

  “Yeah,” I answered, inwardly wishing that I hadn’t agreed to this date. “Let me just grab my shawl.”

  We took a cab downtown to a restaurant, where we were escorted to a private table at the back of the fine dining, Italian restaurant.

  As he held my hand in his, I felt on edge. I could have sworn I could feel the tension in his hand as we made our way to the table.

  “Can I offer you a glass of our house wine selection?” the waiter asked.

  “Give us a bottle of your best,” Simon said, smiling up at him.

  When our wine arrived, I caught Simon watching me as I took a sip. “Did I spill some?” I asked, pulling my hand to my chin.

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “What then?” I asked, leaning over the table and resting my chin on my hands.

  “I like looking at you. I really do,” he said, almost as if he didn’t even believe himself.

  “Thanks?” I half-smiled back, arching an eyebrow at him. I’m not imagining this, right?

  “Can I take a picture of you?” he asked, studying my face.

  Damn you, cheeks. I know you’re flushed! “Right now?” I asked, sitting back in my seat and looking around the crowded restaurant.

  “Yes, right now. Can I?”

  This is going to backfire. I just know it. I stared at him, still confused as to why he would want a picture of me right now.

  “Please.”

  Oh, God, he’s begging.

  He pulled his cell phone out and smiled over at me.

  Yup, this is going to bite me in the ass later, but I’m a gluten for punishment lately. May as well not stop now. “Fine, go head, but be quick about it,” I said, glancing around at the room full of patrons.

  “Okay, ready?” he asked.

  I folded my hands back under my chin and gave a little smirk for the camera. He snapped the picture, checked to make sure it went off okay, then turned it for me to look at.

  “Not too bad. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Simon Sullivan, professional photographer to the stars, took it.”

  We both laughed, but as I thought of his picture, another came to mind, one with another man in it.

  “Hey, Simon, I need to tell you something.” I took a quick sip of wine before I continued.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking at the picture on his phone again.

  “Do you ever look at Fame’s web page?”

  He tensed and placed his phone back in his pocket before answering my question. “No, not really my thing. Why do you ask?” His whole demeanor had changed. His cheerful personality was gone as he waited for me to answer.

  “Well, there have been some pictures of me with Spencer Salvatore. I don’t know if you know him--”

  “I know him,” he said, cutting me off abruptly.

  “I think they’re trying to say we’re romantically involved, but it’s not true. They’re just digging for a story.” Ew, that tasted so bitter. Hopefully, he’ll believe me.

  “It’s no big deal. Like I said, I don’t follow that stuff. I’m sure they’ll stop soon.” He said it as if he knew for sure.

  Any tension that was brewing just a few seconds before was gone and Simon’s cheerful personality returned.

  I still had my doubts. Sometimes he seemed uninterested, and other times, he was fawning all over me, complementing me, reaching for my hand. One minute, we’d be talking like we were old friends, which was great but, the next, he’d act like he didn’t want to be there. It was almost as if he was fighting with himself. Sometimes, it seemed like he didn’t even believe that he could actually be having a good time with me.

  “So, you haven’t told me about your family. All I know is that you’re an only child,” I asked, after the whole Fame nonsense.

  “Not much to tell. My mom stays at home and volunteers her time, and my father is a hot shot lawyer in LA.”

  Okay so his family has money, explains the career choice.

  “My parents expected me to be a lawyer or football player,” he continued. “I played all through college. I could have gone pro, but decided against it. I got a degree in sports medicine, but I never really got into it. I did it more for my parents.”

  Football player, eh? I should have known he played sports, with that physic.

  Taking another sip of his wine, he caught me in a day dream. “Am I boring you now?” he asked.

  Snap out of it, Beth! I was stuck with a cheerleader-quarterback fantasy, fresh in my mind, and couldn’t help the wicked grin on my face. “No, not at all.” I quickly held up the menu to hide my embarrassment.

  “What about your parents? You conveniently skipped over them,” he said, looking over his own menu.

  Crap! Can’t hide now. He used my own line to dig for information. Here goes nothing. “They died when I was two.” Wait for it. There it is. The look everyone gives me when they find out my parents are dead. I hated when people acted as if I was still that fragile two-year-old I was when they were taken from me.

  “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. What happened?” he asked, placing his menu down on the table.

  “They died in a car accident.” I kept it short and simple, Simon didn’t need all the baggage in one night.

  “I’m...wow, Elizabeth.”

  Poor thing is fumbling his words. Better save him. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” I caught him doing that internal struggle thing again. “You know, I’d love to know what’s going on in there,” I asked, pointing to his head.

  He laughed nervously and took a sip of wine. “Me, too. All I know is that, I’m really enjoying tonight.”

  I looked at him questioningly. Did he expect tonight to be a total bust or what? “That’s good. So stop looking like you’re shocked that I’m so cool,” I said with a grin.

  He shook his head and laughed. He seemed to relax at that and acted like the Simon that I was finding to be pretty irresistible.

  The restaurant was emptying and I figured it was getting late. Holy cow, almost eleven! I slid my phone back into my purse just as Simon’s went off.

  He checked the screen then looked up at me apologetically. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. It’s my boss.”

  I motioned for him to go ahead and take the call. I sat back in my chair for the first time and tried not to listen to the conversation going on across the table.

  “Right now?...I can’t...This isn’t right...No, I’m not...” Simon turned away from the table when he spoke, making it hard to hear anymore. His boss must have said something very convincing because the next words out of his mouth were, “Fine, I’ll have the package there within the hour.” He didn’t even say bye, just hung up in frustration.

  “I guess you have to go?” I asked.

  “Yeah. The guy that was going to cover for me got sick, so I got caught.” He placed his cloth napkin on the table. His expression was torn, as if he didn’t want to do something. Calling the waiter over, he asked for the check. Not even bothering to look, he placed his credit card in the binder and handed it back.

  “I can help. How much do I owe?” I asked, grabbing for my purse.

  “I think I can pay for your dinner, Elizabeth. I might be a struggling photographer but I’m not poor.”

  Leaving my bag in my lap, I smiled back at him and shook my head. Men and their chivalry. Can we say sexy? “Okay, but next time you let me pay or at least tip.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I guess I can do that.”

&
nbsp; This stupid grin on my face is actually hurting.

  The waiter came back and handed Simon the small black binder with his card and receipt.

  “So where do you have to go?” I asked while he signed his name.

  “Mood, actually. Will you come with me?”

  I frowned at him. “You want me to go to Mood, while you work? I don’t know. I should probably get home,” I said as we both stood from the table.

  “Come on, we had fun the last time we were there together.”

  What’s he getting at? “Well--” I paused, considering.

  “Great! You’re coming with me,” he said, not even giving me a chance to say no. “A birdie told me your brothers and friend are there. You can hang out with them, until I’m done.”

  I couldn’t help the eye roll that came when I thought about sitting in a crowded club. “Fine. I’ll go, but you better never ask me to do this again.”

  Crossing his heart, he held up his hand like a boy scout. “Promise, this is the one and only time,” he said with a warm smile.

  ***

  Before I knew it, I was entering through the back door of Mood. Simon was able to get me in without causing a fuss. Not that I couldn’t just walk up and tell them my brothers were here, but I didn’t want to hurt his ego. The music was loud and the place was packed. Simon walked me to the bar where we were able to share a drink before he had to leave.

  I scanned the place for my brothers or Gia. I should have guessed. VIP. I walked over.

  A man dressed all in back stopped me just before the VIP area. “Sorry, miss, this is the VIP area. You can’t come in unless you have an invite.”

  No shit, it’s the VIP. With my hands firmly planted on my hips, I set fire to him ranting and raving that I was Elizabeth Monroe and that my brothers probably paid for him to stand there. I went on, yelling at him that he should let me through before he lost his job. “Go over there and get them. They will tell you who I am. They just can’t hear or see me over all these people and this loud fucking music--” In mid-sentence, I saw the bodyguard abruptly turn from me and hold his ear piece closer.

  What an asshole. Now he’s ignoring me!

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” he said, before facing me again.

  I was confused, and a bit scared, when he leaned in closer to me.

  “I’m sorry about this. Mr. Salvatore was sure to straighten everything out. Please,” he said, holding his hand out to help me up the few stairs.

  Why can’t I move? Move, Beth. It was no use. My eyes wandered around the crowded club. I was on the hunt for blue eyes and a beautiful face.

  “Miss Monroe? Are you okay?”

  I looked back at the man standing before me. “Yes--yes I’m fine.”

  I took hold of his helping hand and walked up the steps. Spencer was there, somewhere, watching me. I didn’t know if I should feel flattered or petrified. In that moment, it was a nice combination of both.

  The beautiful people saw me as I was coming down from a Spencer high. “Beth, what the hell are you doing here?” Gia asked, rushing over to me.

  She’s drunk. “Simon had to come here to work and persuaded me to come with him.”

  Gia hugged me tightly, swaying me side to side.

  Yup, she’s done.

  “Baby girl, you are just everywhere today,” Charles said from beside me.

  “Charles, always a pleasure--not,” I said, shooting him a look.

  “Oh, whatever. We’re actually here for a good time, so don’t ruin it.” He slurred his words as he grabbed Gia around the waist and kissed her neck.

  That’s pretty gross. I tried to hide my disgust because Gia clearly loved all the attention she was getting from him. I saw Teddy stride over, drink in hand. Placing his brotherly arm around my neck, he gave me my usual kiss on the head.

  “Don’t you dare let him take her home,” I said, looking threateningly up at him.

  “I won’t, baby girl. I won’t let him hurt her.”

  I got the feeling that he wished it was him she was wrapping her arms around. Stifling the urge to pry, I decided that this was neither the place nor time.

  I danced to a couple of songs with Gia, then I finally saw Simon walking over. I wrapped my arms around his neck, talking into his ear so he could hear me over the music. “I thought you would never be done.”

  Okay maybe I had a few too many drinks. Do you blame me?

  “I’m not, just on a little break.”

  I held him tight as we swayed to the music. This felt good, he felt good. I’d never felt this comfortable with a man. His strong arms held me securely and I melted into him.

  Simon’s hands moved over my backside and around either hip. Dropping a hand, he pulled out his phone, checking the time I assumed.

  “Do you have to leave already?” I asked. Please say no, please say no.

  “No, not yet, one more dance.” He pulled me even tighter and I let my tired head lean against his chest. It was happening whether he liked it or not. I felt him tense up when I did, but the alcohol was making it easy to ignore.

  When the song changed to another, he pulled his phone out again. “I have to go now. Will you be okay to go home with your brothers and friend? I have to do some more work.”

  “Yeah that’s fine.” I was relieved he had to go. I still didn’t get him. He was so back and forth all night and, with me so tipsy, I didn’t trust myself to “walk away” if things got intense. Slow and steady--there is still so much I don’t get about him. Now, if I could only remember that when I’m around Spencer, I’d be good.

  With one last hug, he casually kissed my cheek. I watched him walk back into the crowd and eventually disappear.

  I didn’t see Simon again after our two, short dances. I wanted to believe that we could take things farther, but I was skeptical. Spencer was MIA the whole time I was there, but I could feel him, like a dark, sexy, looming shadow in the corner. It kept me on edge the entire night. The only time I was able to relax was when I was in Simon’s arms. Unfortunately, the moment I was left alone, I was back on that thin ledge, waiting for Spencer to pop out of the shadows or sneak up next to me like he did that first night at Mood. Vampire? No way this wasn’t Twilight and I sure as hell wasn’t Bella.

  I spent the rest of the night sitting on a couch, watching, waiting for something that never came, something that I imagined up in my head.

  Chapter 7

  I slept soundly, waking up when my alarm went off at eight. A huge smile appeared on my face as I stretched. I’d categorized last night as a nice first date, or a great start to a friendship. Either way, it was fun. I made my way to the shower and, as I took my shirt off, the fabric caught on the bandages that were still on my arm. Blue eyes were all I could see when I closed mine. My heart raced at the memory of Spencer Salvatore. This calls for a very, very cold shower.

  My hair was still damp when I went to the kitchen for tea. I had time before class, so I decided to leave early. I needed a nice long walk. I had hoped the fresh air would help clear my mind of the fact that I was infatuated with two men--two men who were so different.

  I walked by the front desk on my way out, saying “Hi” to Derrick before leaving. “How’s it going Derrick?” I asked as I walk by.

  “Miss Monroe, things are wonderful. It’s Friday and I have an exciting weekend planned for the misses.”

  Derrick was my favorite desk operator. An older man, probably the same age my father would be if he were alive. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back off his face. He was some kind of handsome for an older man.

  “Oolala,”I sing-songed back. I love talking to him.

  “Speaking of oolala, someone dropped these off for you very early this morning.”

  He held a bouquet of red flowers out in my direction. They were beautiful.

  Reaching for them, I wondered who could have left them.

  “Looks like someone is going to have an exciting weekend as well,” he said, winking over at
me.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m scared to ask, Derrick, but was there a note left with them?”

  “How did you know?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Fourth time’s a charm,” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I smelled the beautiful flowers.

  Without missing a beat, he pulled a small note from under the desk and handed it over.

  I took it with a shaking hand. “Thanks, Derrick, see you after school.” I held the flowers in one hand and shoved the note into my pocket. This is going to have to wait until after class. I need to concentrate. Lord knows, I need to graduate this year.

  Ugh I can’t stand it! That didn’t last long. I tried to submerge the urge to read the note before class. Be strong, you can do this. It’s only an hour class. You can wait that long. Chewing anxiously on the inside of my cheek, I felt my stomach doing summersaults. I couldn’t decide who I wanted the flowers to be from, and the fact that the answer could be in my pocket was royally killing me.

  I managed to make it all the way to campus. I was outside of the English building when I couldn’t take it any longer. Fuck it, I don’t care. I quickly sat on a bench, placing the flowers next to me. I reached in my pocket, took a deep breath, and opened the note slowly. When I saw the signature handwriting that I knew was Spencer Salvatore’s perfect penmanship, I panicked.

  You’re killing me...Lose the surfer. ~ S

  Once again, this man had totally confused the hell out of me. If he meant that I was “killing” him, then why the hell didn’t he do something about it?

  I’m not doing anything to him. Where does he get the right to say that? And who the hell is he to tell me to “lose the surfer”? What a jerk! At least Simon had made an effort, even if he was a bit wishy washy. You know what? I like the fact that I affect Spencer but, come on, all these little double meaning notes are getting old, and a bit creepy.

  In class, the teacher and a few straggling students arrived a few minutes after class was scheduled to begin. One late comer sat next to me--a girl definitely in her freshman year. Great, another leggy blonde to add to the army of them walking around campus. What is this girl’s problem? She kept leaning forward on her desk, trying to take stolen glances up at me. I tried to ignore it as the teacher organized herself up at the front of the room. Okay, for real, what is this girl’s deal? Maybe she’s into girls. Who knows?