“I don’t care. It’s late, go to bed. You sound delirious. Get some rest and I’ll catch up with you later.”
“I know there’s more to your story than you’re telling me, but since it’s late and I am tired, I’m gonna let it slide for now.”
“Good idea. Get some rest. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Okay, take care. Good night.”
Devon closed the cell phone and looked at the time. In a few hours it would be dawn. He lay back down then looked up at the high ceiling, thinking about the dream. It had been a long time since he’d had a dream that vivid and that sensual. Making love to Jazz was all he could think about now. He had tasted her, and he knew that nothing and no one else would satisfy his need except her.
He sat up, knowing a peaceful sleep was out of the question. He got up and walked out onto his balcony. The cool night air was exactly what he needed. He sat on the wooden rail, thinking about the recent changes in his life. Thoughts of Jazz quickly returned. He thought about his sister’s concerns. After witnessing their parent’s disastrous divorce firsthand, neither one of them ever intended to marry. They even vowed to each other that they wouldn’t. But he was tired of being alone. Fame and fortune were wonderful, but having no one to share them with was an empty feeling.
He went back into his bedroom, changed into his sweats and went downstairs to his gym. This was his sanctuary, the one room in the house where he could fully concentrate. His work ethic was simple: the harder he worked out, the more focused he became. Nothing ever distracted him when he was in here. A rigorous workout was exactly what he needed to get his mind off Jazz and his desire for her.
He flipped the light switch, and the room was immediately bathed in bright light. Just as he dropped a CD into the player, the phone rang. He answered. “Devon, it’s Vincent. You need to get over to the police station.”
“What’s going on?” Devon asked.
“A friend of mine at the hospital told me Armand Fuller crashed his car.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He refused medical attention, but the police took him in just in case. He’s fine. He’s got a few cuts and bruises. They already discharged him. The police took him to the station a few minutes ago to give a statement on the accident. I don’t think they’re gonna book him, but they might need someone to vouch for him.”
“I’m on my way.”
“All right, I’ll meet you there.”
Fifteen minutes later, Devon and Vincent arrived at the police station at the same time. They walked into the building and saw Scott talking to a few uniformed officers. “Hey, what’s going on?” Devon said as he approached. They shook hands, and Scott introduced Devon and Vincent to the officers.
“Mr. Fuller is fine. He’s in the office giving a statement. He didn’t appear to be intoxicated, so there shouldn’t be a problem,” one of the officers said.
“So, he’s free to leave after that?” Devon asked.
“Yes, there should be no problem.”
Scott and Devon looked at each other and then to Vincent. They all knew that Armand was upset and had been drinking heavily at the party. “We’ll make sure he gets home safely,” Vincent said.
Armand was released soon after. He had bruising around his eye and a small bandage on his forehead, but other than that he looked fine. Scott volunteered to drive him home. Vincent and Devon stayed behind in the police station parking lot talking. “He’s really messed up,” Vincent said as Scott waved and drove away.
“Shelia leaving him hit harder than I thought. It’s amazing what they do to us.”
“Nah, man, we do this to ourselves.”
“See, you have a much different perspective. You work with Melanie. Your business is love.”
“It’s not a different perspective—it’s a clearer perspective. Women are just as confused about men as men are about women. We don’t know how to communicate with each other. We never learned that in school. We talk at, not to, each other.”
“So you’re saying that all Armand and Shelia had to do was talk and their marriage would have been fine?”
“No, I don’t know their issues, but what I am saying is that we all want the same thing—to be loved. We each go about it differently. The Platinum Society doesn’t just match couples. We teach clients how to stay together and build strong bonds.”
“I remember all the conversations with Jessica and Veronica when I first signed on. But does any of that really work?”
“What do you think?” Vincent said proudly.
“Since I know the company’s impressive success rate, I’d say it speaks for itself.”
“I agree. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
“Yeah, it was nice. It was lot more crowded than I expected.”
“It’s the first party of the season. It’s always larger, and also most of our clients prefer a more social atmosphere. They usually feel more comfortable.”
“I spoke with Melanie last night.”
“Did you meet anyone interesting?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Don’t you want to know who it was?”
“It’s your selection. They were all three chosen with your profile in mind. Any one of them would very easily make you a very happy man.”
“But would I fall in love with them?”
“You were very specific about your ideal woman. Presumably you would fall in love, since she’s exactly what you wanted. The question you should ask yourself is, is she what you need?”
“Opposites attract,” Devon said.
Vincent nodded. “Sometimes, but not always. But I’d ask myself why these specific qualities were important. Look, I know you’ve had issues with women in the past. Some saw you and immediately saw a dollar sign. Finding someone to love is hard.”
Devon considered Vincent’s comments. “Women were never a problem, you know that. They’d come and go in and out of my life constantly, most thinking of being my wife. But I’d never promised them anything, ever. Then two years ago I met Trina. I thought we were perfect together. She was beautiful, poised, demure and intelligent. She was a wealthy socialite who spent her time doing charity work and shopping sunup to sundown. She loved partying and spending money. She was selfish and vain and lived to bask in the spotlight. She was seriously high maintenance. I knew it and accepted it.
“We got engaged, and I thought everything was fine. The breakup took me completely off guard. I found out she was getting married on my way down the tunnel to play my last game. It was exactly what you read in the papers. She dumped me for someone with more money.
“I met Tasha a month after the breakup. She was the exact opposite. She grew up poor and did everything imaginable to claw her way to the top. I thought that was admirable at the time. I didn’t know that meant lying, stealing and cheating to get what she wanted. I don’t have to tell you how badly that ended. Now lately, women come and go like the weather, hence the bad-boy rep. So as you can see, my track record isn’t exactly top notch when it comes to the women I choose. What does that say about me?”
“That you’re human. That you’ve been protecting yourself. They were beautiful, intelligent women. How could you possibly know they had ulterior motives? Melanie’s instincts are sharp, and her approach works. Attraction is the key. When you see a woman, and you can’t take your eyes off of her, then there’s something there. You can’t fake feelings, and you can’t fool the heart, not for long.”
Devon shook his head. “I want to marry, but I don’t trust my instincts when it comes to women anymore.”
“That’s why you have us. We’ve got your back. So, with all that said, I have to go. Some of us actually have to work for a living. I have three appointments in Boston today,” he joked.
Devon chuckled as they shook hands then walked to their cars. “Hey, thanks again for the phone call. Good looking out.”
“Anytime.” Vincent waved as he drove off. Devon pulled out of the parking lot
, thinking about what Vincent said. He’d made some valid points. He’d met the women he had asked for and turned each one down. Then Jazz showed up and instantly captured his attention. She was nothing like what he thought he wanted. But his attraction was undeniable. He drove home thinking about Jazz. She was far different from any woman he’d gone out with.
It was still dark when Devon got back home. He headed to his gym and started his workout. Heart-thumping music blasted through the speakers. He warmed up then walked over to the wall of mirrors and looked at his reflection. He looked the same, perhaps a bit more tired than usual. He picked up some weights and, holding one in each hand, began his workout routine.
Already in peak athletic condition, he did not need to exercise much, but he did it anyway. Not because he had to, but because he needed the release and the physical exhaustion. Exercise had always been his mental distraction, and right now he needed all the distractions he could get.
The grueling regimen he set up for himself was intense. Free weights, push-ups, pull-ups, dips—he did them all, back to back. He hit the treadmill, the elliptical bike and the lat dorsi station. His angry muscles pulled tight then released in agony. Gluteus maximus, quadriceps, biceps, triceps, abs, they all burned with the added demands.
With training camp coming up, he knew he needed to be in better shape than ever. This was a contract year, and after last season and knee surgery he had something to prove both to himself and to his team. Right or wrong, he felt responsible for last season’s losses. Had he not been distracted, none of that would have happened.
He lay back on the bench and grabbed the long bar. The large black weights had already been set. He held the bar securely above his head then took a deep breath. In one smooth motion he heaved the weights upward, releasing them from the bar stand. He straightened his arms. Flexor and extensor muscles tensed as biceps and triceps pulled through. He pumped the weights slowly, took a break then repeated the action several more times. Finally he let them rest back on the bar stand. He lay back down and, taking a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling. His body ached, his muscles throbbed and his pulse rate soared…and still Jazz was on his mind. He sat up, grabbed his towel around his neck and gulped from his water bottle.
After a quick shower, he wrapped a towel sarong style around his waist and walked out onto the deck and stood staring at the approaching dawn. The deck was perched high, with a breathtaking view. He stood looking around. The cool morning air was refreshing after the grueling two-hour workout and shower. Dawn had barely touched the sky in the distance. He sipped his energy drink and perched on the wooden rail, looking out at the picture-postcard moment. The beach was empty except for a lone figure strolling by with her dog. She reminded him of Jazz.
He touched his finger to his lips and smiled. The taste of her had long since gone, but he still sensed the intense pressure of their kiss. It had sparked and then ignited a flame inside of him. His body was still on fire. She thought she was helping him, but in actuality she had started a blazing inferno. He tipped the bottled water to his lips and swallowed hard.
Assessing his life was something he seldom did, but lately he found himself doing it more and more. His life was envied by many. He watched the silhouette of the woman and her dog at the water’s edge. He thought about the dream that woke him up. Jazelle was in his blood the same way she was when he was fifteen years old. An adolescent crush on a television star was one thing, but he was a grown man now. Still, the deep well of feelings he’d tapped into earlier had begun a raging flood of desire. How to quench a need so strong?
He picked up his cell phone, then paused. It was early, but he needed to be proactive. He decided to leave a message, but to his surprise she answered instantly.
“Good morning,” Melanie said brightly.
“Good morning,” Devon answered. “I didn’t expect you to pick up. After the party last night, I thought you’d sleep in.”
Melanie laughed. “Hardly. There’s a ton of work to do. You left early. Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
“Yes, I did. I had a great time,” he said.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”
“I spoke with Jazelle briefly.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No, not at all,” he assured her. “She’s a lot different than I expected—she’s quiet and more introspective. I’d like to get to know her.”
“Surprised?” Melanie asked.
“Yes. She was kind enough to help me out of a jam last night. I’d hoped I could invite the two of you over this evening as a thank-you.”
“I have to be in New York this afternoon, but I should be back barring any unforeseen circumstances. And I’ll make sure to relay your invitation.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. I’ll see you this evening around six.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
Devon smiled and hung up.
Chapter 4
EXTERIOR BEACH—EARLY MORNING
Jazz stood in darkness and waited until she saw the dawning of the new day. She took a deep breath then held the phone to her ear and listened. The sound of her brother’s voice penetrated deep into her heart. She closed her eyes and listened closer. His voice was slow and methodical. He enunciated each word with clarity and purpose. There was no denying he knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t drunk or stoned or high as he was so often when he called her that early in the morning. On the contrary, he was calm, rational and resolved, and that scared her even more.
She listened to his words, but also to the sounds in the background. She heard people yelling and shouting, the early morning seagulls screeching, the hum of highway traffic in the distance, the car horns blasting and the emergency sirens blaring. It was the sirens that always gave her a chill. Their loud and incessant wailing screamed continuously like earsplitting whines from grief-stricken mourners. Then, when they stopped, there was the explosive sound of a car engine and the screech of tires peeling on asphalt. After that, there was nothing. Silence hung in the air.
The time between that instant and the next seemed immeasurable. Minutes, hours, perhaps days passed, but she knew it was only a few seconds. Then suddenly there was a loud, piercing scream. High and shrill, it released before she even knew it was her own voice. The terrifying sound stabbed into her heart. And even now, months later, her heart still pounded in her chest and her hands still shook with rage and helplessness.
She looked out at the rising sun in the distance. The skyline was scattered with a few yachts and sailboats. It was another day and another time. She took a deep breath then closed her cell phone and stood silently. It was over. Waves lapped onto the sand and birds called from above. It was over. It was an ordinary day much like all the days since. But still each morning she awoke to the last moments of his life. It was over.
Another day had dawned, and she wondered how she was going to get through it. She looked down at her bare feet pressed into the wet sand. It wasn’t the Pacific, but it would have to do. Jazz quietly watched the slight slit of sunrise widen across the bay’s horizon. It was the stillness of the moment she anticipated each morning. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. She knew she was lost and empty inside. But this was what she hid from the rest of the world: her pain. She had to be strong. The façade was important. She could never let them see her cry again.
After a few moments, she walked down the beach eventually joined by her usual morning companion, a scruffy-looking mongrel that had appeared by her side a week ago. There was never a formal greeting or salutation. He appeared, stayed at her side, and then moved on. For some reason they each seemed to find solace in walking together. She had no idea where he came from or where he went when he left her. He had no tags, and it looked as if life had knocked him down, too. They were the perfect pair, two lost souls in search of solitude.
About a mile and a half down the beach the two waywards climbed up onto the rocks and sat in the smooth cradle she’d found
a few weeks ago. She braced herself securely against the ill-fitting chair then relaxed. The mutt, finding his place, cuddled protectively at her feet. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either. It was, however, the perfect perch from which to watch the world go by while still isolated. She saw everything and everyone, but no one saw her. And just as morning light brightened the sky, the usuals came out.
From her lofty perch she watched an old man with his earphones and metal detector search the beach for lost trinkets and treasures. He stopped occasionally to sift through the sand for nothing much, then continued on. There were a few nondescript joggers, with and without dogs. A runner ran by at top speed, and two women in designer sweats power-walked and power-talked, loud and nonstop. Farther down the beach she watched the morning gathering. At first there was one, then two, then a few more; after a while it was a small group. On the same spot each morning they did their tai-chi exercises.
Jazz watched the graceful movements. It was these peaceful moments that refueled her. She felt her body completely relax. Her thoughts drifted, then centered on the party the night before. Since the summer season hadn’t officially started, most of the guests were residents. Still, the guest list had been a virtual who’s who of Sag Harbor society. Some were direct descendants of the original settlers, while others were Sag Harbor’s nouveau riche.
After a while she started thinking about Devon. She smiled for no particular reason. When she first saw him across the room, she expected him to be a typical egomaniac jock. She’d often found that athletes were like that and assumed that he’d be the same. Instead she found him charming, funny and unpredictable. He made her laugh.
She’d seen him before. It was impossible not to. His charismatic smile was everywhere, and he sold everything. He endorsed cars, power bars, clothing, shoes, even his own gym equipment. He was handsome, and women flocked to him as soon as he walked in.
A seagull swooped down, landing on a rock near them. The dog’s head bopped up, and he growled. The bird flew off instantly. “You’re a great bodyguard. I should have had you with me last night. Dr. Larry was driving me nuts.” The dog sat up and looked around for more intruders. “And you missed a great party,” she said. The mutt looked up at her lazily, his floppy, wayward ears only half-perked. “Maybe next time I’ll invite you as my date. What do you think about that?” The dog yawned wide then turned and lay back down. “Yeah, great idea, I totally agree.”
Heart's Choice Page 6
