by Kiki Leach
“Sorry,” the person said. “I burned the tip of my tongue on my coffee when you answered.” It was a man with a strong, deep voice, one that seemed to peak her interest. She arched a brow and leaned aside.
“Who is that on the phone?” asked Nathan. “If it’s that reporter calling back after you talked to them last night…”
Sheila shook her head and lowered the phone, confused. “They might have the wrong room.”
“If they do, hang up before the hotel tries to bill us for it. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait, Nate--” He closed the door, leaving her even more frustrated now than she had been the night before. She was so determined to prove how much he belonged to her through marriage, but she couldn’t even get him to sit still long enough to have a bagel and talk about it.
“Hello? Hello?” the person continued to say on the other end. “Are you still there?”
Sheila snapped out of her daze and placed the phone back at her ear. “Who the hell is this?”
“No need for such anger when you contacted me,” he said.
“I don’t… what?”
“Adrian Samuels. You contacted me last night about some sort of meeting?” He stood in the kitchen of his midsize apartment in Queens, drinking a cup of coffee and flipping through a magazine as it sat on the counter near his microwave. He was waiting for his clothes to dry before going out to run a few errands later in the day and felt he had some time to kill and decided to call back the insane woman who sounded both petrified and aroused when she left a message for him on his voicemail. He waited on the phone as Sheila still hadn’t spoken a single word to him of any relevance yet. He thought of hanging up on her, but at the same time, he was all too curious to hear what she had to say or most likely, ask. “Hello?”
In realizing who she had contacted and that he was willing to return her call so quickly, she beamed like a ray of sunshine and sat down at the edge of the bed. “I did contact you, yes, that was me – a, Sheila Harris?”
“That’s the one. I got your voicemail this morning and wanted to see what this was all about. You said you work for the NYDN and wanted to do a story about my time in the Congo?”
“Yes.” She crossed her legs.
“How did you hear about that?”
She stalled, looking around the room in a panic. “Um…. I’m a reporter. I do my research, of course.”
“And of all the men who’ve traveled to the Congo from the US for missionary purposes or otherwise, my name is the first one you seemed to think of?”
“I have a friend that attended NYU. She spoke very highly of you.”
“And who would that be?”
“I don’t want to name drop.”
“It’s probably not necessary, considering--” He took a sip of his coffee.
“Considering what?” she asked, minutely curious.
“Considering the circumstances. Sheila Harris, you sound like such a fascinatingly intelligent woman, which is why I hate to break this to you,” he began, “but I called the New York Daily News right before calling you up, as I have a friend that works there in the morning, because your name sounded extremely familiar to me, and not like that of a news reporter, but more like that of a tabloid phenom. And he said if you’re the Sheila Harris that we were both thinking you were, then you’ve never worked there a day in your life because you’ve never had to. In fact, you’ve never worked anywhere this side of the US continent thanks to your former senator father. And it seems you gave a quote last night to his ex-girlfriend who works for Page Six.”
She uncrossed her legs and dropped her feet to the floor. “Shit.”
“And what do we have here?” He opened another paper from the stack he had on his counter and laughed. “The phenom continues on the cover of every magazine publication this city has to offer.”
“Okay, first of all, you don’t even know me well enough to speak to me like that. Second of all, I gave that quote after a few drinks. She called me up when I was in a really bad mood.”
“So you forgot, then?”
“Yes. At least I don’t have to lie anymore about who I am because you probably know the actual reason why I contacted you, and it has nothing to do with your time in the Congo.”
“I’ve gathered that after seeing all of these publications and catching some of the entertainment news. How’s the back of your head?”
“It’s healing.” She deeply sighed. “I’m not asking for a handout, here. All I want is some information. That’s it. I have a few questions I need answered and I think you might be the only one willing to provide me with the details that I need.” He stood silent. “Hello?”
“I’m still listening. What are you needing this information for?” he asked. “Are you planning on using it against her?”
“No, not at all. I just want to know what she was like during that time since I missed so much.”
“And if the magazines have any truth to them regarding your relationship with Nathan as well as hers, you need a distraction to keep her away from him for the time being.”
“If push comes to shove and contacting you does me a few favors, then so be it.”
“So be it, hm?” He drank more of his coffee. “How did you find out about what we had? She’s never told a soul from what I remember and I really don’t think she’d ever cave and tell her least favorite person in the world the truth about us under any circumstances. I left town quietly after, so that the rumors spreading around wouldn’t screw up her chances to make a go for something big in her life. From what I hear, she did that in finally taking over her mother’s company.”
“I don’t know about her ‘taking it over’, but she’s done a good enough job to remain employed.”
“How did you hear about our relationship?” he asked again.
She dropped her shoulders and conceded. “Through a friend of a friend who said she saw you two going at it in your office.”
“We were never ‘going at’ it in my office. We were just about to once when someone walked in.”
“That someone is who blabbed to my friend and told me. Listen, I’m not really asking for much, just a few minutes of your time. I might be doing some of this for me, but I think she might really miss you too. We had lunch the other day and she couldn’t stop talking about you.”
“Now I know that you’re lying--”
“We really did have lunch. It didn’t end as pleasantly as I thought it would, but we had it. And she did talk about you and I saw a certain spark in her eye whenever she said your name.” The more Sheila continued to lie, the more she started to believe it herself.
Nonetheless, Adrian’s ego got the boost he needed to reconsider. He missed Vanessa a hell of a lot more in the last few months than he had within the last few years, when he forced her out of his mind the moment he left New York. He had been back from the Congo for over a year, but it wasn’t until recently that he had even seen her face again, whether it was on TV as she was making her way to the tents at New York Fashion Week or in various publications of her own magazine. He missed her face, her hair, her skin, her body. The lovemaking.
He wanted to see her again as soon as he landed at JFK; he got a whiff of the cool, crisp air that engulfed the entire city and was instantly reminded of her. But he knew that it was probably best to stay out of her life, especially considering the way that he had left, slipping a letter inside her mailbox, stating that he had planned to help the poor in another country and wasn’t planning on coming back. He asked her to come with, but since it was over the phone, she always felt it was half assed and insincere.
It was only later when she had learned of his exact location. That was a low point in Vanessa’s life, almost as low and foul as the ending of her relationship with Nathan. At times it felt more so, considering the little reminder Adrian had managed to leave behind.
He puffed out his chest, breathing in deep; the guilt piled up the more he thought about their time together, and what it
must have all meant for her. Even if Vanessa never said she loved him, he knew that it was true. Words never spoke to him as well as actions did, and he knew that Vanessa’s actions were always louder than whatever was often coming out of her mouth. A wave of her hand told him more about her than any yes or no ever could.
He looked over and saw another magazine sitting at the edge of his counter. It was one he hadn’t looked through yet, but when he flipped it over, he saw her name splashed across the top and a small picture that had been taken of her when she was in college that was being used as a publicity still, sitting adjacent to it. Her hair was windblown, her makeup nonexistent. She was absolutely breathtaking.
“Tell me about her,” he said, staring down at the picture.
When Sheila noticed the change of tone in his voice had become softer, she grinned like a Cheshire cat, knowing that she had gotten him exactly where he needed to be. “I can tell you anything you want to know about her, but I need you to do the same. That’s if you’re willing to meet with me today.”
She waited impatiently as he pondered.
“Around what time?” he asked.
“That depends on how long it will take you to make it out of Queens and back into to the city.”
“I don’t plan to make it back into the city. Sorry, but I haven’t crossed that line in over a year and I’m not changing that now. You’re more than welcome to come this way instead. My apartment isn’t ideal, but if you want it to happen…”
She just wanted to have his address for insurance purposes, not because she actually wanted to see what the inside of his home looked like. He was taking a golf ball and turning it into an atomic bomb right before her very eyes. But she was desperate for information and knew of no other way to get it in a timely manner.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” She waited, thinking. “You want her back, don’t you?”
“That’s a question that requires an answer in person, not over the phone.” He hung up.
She knew it was going to be a long day, just speaking to him on the phone made her exhausted. But nonetheless, she was eager to get more information on Vanessa’s past – information she knew she would no doubt run with once it fell into her hands.
Part Sixteen
Vanessa had been sitting at her desk for over an hour, waiting for her mother to burst through the door at any moment and scold her for breathing too loudly. She couldn’t even edit the articles she was given by her assistant Samantha that needed to be finished by the end of the day for the next issue, because she was so focused on watching the door knob turning.
She had pushed a red button on a small remote that allowed a set of electronic curtains to roll down and cover her windows; she had hoped to keep everyone from gawking at her as they went past, which only worked for a little while, until they realized she was inside and walked into her office uninvited and asked how she had been doing since ‘Fright Night’ at the reunion.
She would bob her head and nod followed by getting up and going to her door to watch them walk out while they talked to another worker and turned to look back at her with sad eyes like she was a three-legged dog in search of a new home. Her door, unlike her ‘walls’, was made of wood so she was unable to slam it shut like she would’ve wanted as soon as they were gone. Instead she forcefully closed and then locked it after the tenth person showed up only to stare at her and silently offer their sympathies with a terse look and quick pat on the shoulder.
As she walked away from the door the last time, someone else knocked, which sent her fuming. She yanked the door back, prepared to scream, but had to stop herself from attacking when she saw Samantha standing on the other side, holding a note.
“Is this a bad time?” she asked, almost afraid to say anything else.
“No. I just thought that you were another one of those assholes from upstairs that keeps coming by here to say how sorry you are about my ‘situation’ like I accidentally killed someone.”
“I’ve tried keeping them back from your door since I’ve been here, but they’re all determined to see you. It’s like when a body’s rotting and we don’t want to look but can’t help it.”
“Yeah, just like that,” said Vanessa in a sarcastic tone. “Thanks for the visual by the way.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to call security the next time someone tries to come in uninvited?”
“They’re clearly useless. Besides, I think it’ll just cause even more of a scene and that is the absolute last thing I need right now.” She stuck her head outside of her office and looked down either side of the room. “Have you seen my mother, yet?”
“She hasn’t come in yet from what they told me downstairs.”
“Great. She’s probably just waiting to make her grand entrance like the Wicked Witch of the West, complete with the creepy music and a bicycle. Thank God I don’t have a dog or she’d probably try to take him from me too.” Samantha made a face but Vanessa ignored her. “What’s up, why are you in here?”
“Alexander called to confirm about the dinner tonight for Melanie. He wanted to make sure the same number of people were showing up so he could tell them how much food to prepare for.”
“Oh, shit. I completely forgot to call him this morning because I’ve been too busy worrying about Alexis. Call him back and let him know that the same number of people are indeed showing up and if he can, make sure that the tequila is saved in the back for me to take home. I’m gonna need a lot of it this week, I think. Oh! And call Melanie and tell her that the launch is still happening so I hope she didn’t make any plans between last week and tonight.”
“Got it.”
“Thank you.”
Samantha tossed her brown hair over her shoulder and returned to her desk. But before she could even sit down, her phone started buzzing with a message. She looked down to read it and widened her eyes. “It’s your mother,” she said. “I just got an alert from downstairs that she’s here and apparently drove herself to work today.”
Vanessa looked to the ceiling and squint as if she was staring directly at the sun. She rested her hands at her back and gulped. “She drove herself to work this morning which means she didn’t wait for Ronaldo to come and pick her up like he has done every other morning for the last five years, which means she is going to kill me in front of the entire company.” She laughed nervously. “That’s good to know. Great, yeah, just… super. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to beat her to it by jumping out of the window back here.”
“It may not be as bad as you think, Vanessa.”
“I like that you have so much faith and enthusiasm, but she is going to kill me. You don’t know her very well, and that’s fine. If I weren’t her daughter, I wouldn’t want to know her either, let alone very well, but for the record, believe me when I say that I’m going to be dead. And I don’t mean that to say, ‘oh, my mother is so going to kill me’ for shit like stealing her car when I was fifteen when all she did was publicly shame me and take my license from me for about a year. I mean, she will give it her all to kick my ass from here to eternity without the sad sounding romantic music playing at the end kind of kill me. I embarrassed her AND this company, she’s not going to take that lightly. But thanks for letting me know, it gives me time to prepare my exit out the window of my office.” She tried shutting the door but Samantha stopped her with a hand.
“You’re not going to really do that, right?”
“We’ll find out in about six minutes, won’t we?” She nodded. “Step back.”
Samantha gradually moved away from the door, a look of concern spreading across her face like an inner city wildfire. Vanessa thought about locking the door to keep Alexis out, but there was no point seeing as the woman had a key to every important room in the building. She went back over to her desk and sat down, pulling her chair up and resting her hands in front of her. She looked over at the pile of papers that she was supposed to be editing and placed them in front of her. She pretended to w
ork on them while still pondering how quickly she could make it from her window to the ground.
Part Seventeen
Nikki had shown up bright and early as promised to help Melanie open up the shop. She walked up and saw her unlocking the gate and pushing the button on the side to lift it up in preparation for opening the doors. When Melanie looked over and saw her coming, she was a little disappointed that Nikki had proven her wrong. She was hoping that even if Nikki was just a minute late, it gave her grounds to fire her almost immediately with no chance of ever working for Oscar again.
“Morning!” she said in a cheery voice in attempting to hide her contempt.
Nikki held a cup of coffee and a muffin in her hands. She outstretched her arms and smiled. “I brought you this.”
“What is it?”
“Coffee from my house. And a muffin from the store around the corner from it.”
Melanie stepped back as if she was being handed a grenade that was sure to explode as soon as she took it in her hands. “If you’re trying to butter me up, there’s really no need.”
“I’m not trying to do anything but be friendly. Here. Maurice made the coffee, so don’t worry, it’s not laced with anything toxic. And the muffin is still wrapped inside its plastic.” She lifted her hands. “Here.”
Melanie was wary of Nikki’s behavior; she wasn’t sure if she had caught on to what she knew or not, but she took both anyway to appease her and continue pretending as if she were as clueless as a bird flying east for winter instead of south. Nikki reached down inside her pocket to search for her keys and unlocked the door.
“Oscar gave you a key to the shop?” asked Melanie.
“He made me a copy just in case there were days he wouldn’t be able to make it in on time. Sometimes I use it for emergencies.”
“He must really trust you, then. Maybe I should really start doing the same.” She grinned as Nikki sort of smiled but also became uncomfortable and squeamish. She didn’t know how to react to Melanie when she was being outright nasty and she was even less sure how to react to her when she was being nasty with a hint of sarcasm but under the guise of a beaming grin. As they stepped inside and turned on the lights, Melanie took a sip of the coffee. She was surprised at the strong aroma and fresh taste. “You said Maurice made this? It’s good.”
