Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  He smiled and started to say, "Don't worry about it," but Mike said, "The more the merrier. You guys gave me a great advance for the book, the least I can do is spend a little of it on you."

  Jake laughed. "You don't have to pay for me, but I'm happy to come along."

  Rhonda and Howard were already off at a lunch meeting, but Rosanna accepted Mike's invitation, and Carly joined in too. That surprised me, since she and I were speaking to each other only when we absolutely had to, but as we walked down the street toward the cafe Mike had chosen Carly said, "It's so sweet of you to take us out, Mike," and I realized why she'd decided to come along. A free lunch is a free lunch.

  By some careful maneuvering, I managed to get myself seated facing Jake at the opposite end of the table from her. Mike and Rosanna took the seats in the middle, and for a while we were all too busy studying our menus to talk. Eventually, Mike set his down and said, "Miss Alexa?"

  That reminded me pleasantly of how Fred always talked to me, and as I promised myself I'd send that lovely man an email to let him know how I'd handled Christophe's letter I said, "Yes, sir?"

  He laughed. "Sir. Nice. Well, madam, I have to say I'm hugely glad you moved to Toronto. I can't imagine how I'd have gone through everything with my book without you."

  His eyes locked to mine, and I knew he meant what we'd talked about, his history and mine, far more than how we'd edited. I smiled. "It was my pleasure. Just remember me when you're a New York Times bestseller."

  He wrapped his arm dramatically around me. "I will remember you forever. Maybe even longer."

  We laughed, and so did Jake and Rosanna, but Carly didn't seem amused. She'd been scheming to get that book from the start, and she was probably thinking that if she'd succeeded it would be her who Mike was praising not me.

  To my surprise, I felt a little sorry for her. Going through life attempting to manipulate everyone and everything, lying and changing stories and trying to keep track of what you'd said, must be exhausting. Jake had been right that everybody had a story; had something in Carly's past driven her to act this way? It was still her choice, of course, but maybe she didn't know any other way to be.

  I looked across the table at Jake, busy helping Rosanna find a vegetarian option on the menu, and knew his way was far superior. He wasn't perfect, no, but he was pretty damn good.

  Rosanna settled on pasta primavera and Mike waved over the server. Once we'd placed our order, he said, "So you know Alexa and I had a great morning. How'd the rest of you do?"

  Carly launched into a tale of an author she'd been trying to land and all the promises she'd made him, hinting not-so-subtly that she could do all those wonderful things for Mike too. He listened without comment until she started to run down then said, "Sounds good," and turned his attention to Rosanna. "And you? Found a great new art book?"

  She glanced at Jake, smiling. "No, but he did."

  "We did," Jake said. "We were together going through the pictures." To the rest of us, he said, "A few agents sent stuff in this week so we were checking it all out today. I was the one to find this particular book but that was just luck. If Rosanna had picked up that envelope it would have been all her."

  She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and I liked seeing that she was still so comfortable with him. I'd been afraid that hearing what he might have done would ruin their relationship but fortunately that didn't seem to have happened. She confirmed that for me by saying with sincerity, "You're the best, Jake. Always so modest."

  "Hey, I'm just telling the truth," he said.

  Something about that resonated deep inside me. Yes, he was just telling the truth. And not just about this, either.

  For the first time, I completely believed that he had not thought Jennifer wanted him to stop. I'd been pretty sure of it intellectually before, but this time every cell of my body felt the truth of it.

  I wanted him to know right away, so I looked directly into his eyes and said, "You always do. I believe every word you've ever said to me." I said it lightly, because the others were there, but I meant it and I saw him realize that.

  Mike laughed and said, "Quick, Jake, find a bridge to sell her." The others laughed too, but Jake didn't. He held my gaze, and my heart clenched at the realization of how much my words mattered to him.

  I also saw how much I mattered to him. He'd told me before he had feelings for me, but I saw them even more clearly now. Saw them, and knew I had them for him as well. It felt great. Strange, and a little unnerving because I didn't know when I'd be ready to act on them, but great.

  As we walked back to work after Mike kindly paid for us all, Jake and I fell a little behind the others and I longed to lean over and tell him I wanted to be with him as more than friends. I couldn't, though. I did feel it, but something still stood in my way even though I now believed him. I didn't know what it was but I felt it and I couldn't see a way around it.

  Jake cleared his throat, and my heart skipped a beat. Feeling that, knowing even more that I did want to be with him, I willed him to say something that would get me through the barrier.

  "Alexa?"

  Good start. "Yes?"

  "I was wondering if you'd go to the art gallery with me tomorrow."

  We'd gone lots of places together, at my instigation and his, but the nervousness in his voice made this invitation different, made it mean more. I liked it, and I reached over and linked my arm through his. "I'd love that."

  He drew me close against him. "Me too."

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Jake and I walked around the airy top floor of the Ontario Art Gallery studying the modern works displayed.

  "A lot of this I don't get," I admitted. I pointed to a poster made up of random letters cut from newspapers and magazines, glued together in a way that looked like words but didn't seem to say anything at all. "Like this one. What's the point? It looks like something a kindergarten kid could make."

  Jake smiled. "I figure the point is to make you think about what the point is."

  I gave him a sideways glance. "You always this deep on Saturday afternoons?"

  He winked. "Yup. It's my favorite time to be deep."

  I studied the poster a little longer, then shook my head. "I guess it could be about how letters are just symbols and words only mean something because we say they do, but I still prefer your sculpture to this."

  Jake gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks."

  I smiled at him. "Speaking of letters, thanks again for putting up with the post office."

  Last night I'd decided that I wanted to reply to David's letter. Jake felt so much better after getting some sort of closure and I'd wanted to give that same gift to David. I hadn't invited him to write to me again, because I didn't feel like either of us needed that, but I had told him I understood how Christophe had used him and I was sorry he'd suffered so much in the aftermath and I did forgive him for what he had unintentionally done to me. It hadn't been an easy letter to write, but I had felt good afterwards. Cleansed.

  I'd figured mailing it would be a quick errand I could do with Jake on our way to the gallery, but unfortunately the line-up at the drugstore post office down the street from me had been ridiculous. Jake had waited patiently with me for almost half an hour until I'd finally been able to buy my one stamp and send my letter on its way.

  "Not a problem. I'm glad you felt up to writing to David. I bet he'll appreciate it."

  "Hope so."

  We'd had the area largely to ourselves, but now a short stocky guy in a backwards baseball cap, his jeans hanging so low I wondered if he'd stapled them to himself beneath his butt so they wouldn't fall down, came shuffling in talking loudly on a cell phone. "Yeah, man, I saw the game. Can't remember the last time I saw someone get beat like that. Man, they raped them."

  His volume seemed to double on that one word, and a shiver ran through me.

  Jake put his hand on my shoulder. "Had enough of this floor?"

  I looked up into his warm brown eyes. "Oh,
I think so."

  He tightened his grip on my shoulder then let me go as the guy said, "Where'd she go? Shit, man, I lost my date. Hang on. Bitch got lost again."

  A pretty blonde came in then, looking embarrassed and close to tears.

  "Nah, she's here." The guy laughed. "Bitch is just slow, not lost."

  The disgusted glance Jake gave me made it clear he shared my opinion that the blonde was doing everything she could to keep her distance from this guy.

  I felt for her, but I would not ruin my day with Jake by staying in her jerk's presence another minute, so I said, "Next floor down?"

  Jake nodded and we left, but within five minutes the couple had joined us there too. The guy was still on his phone, ranting now about the supervisors at his work who seemed to think he was obnoxious and a bad worker.

  "Me?" He spoke even louder, while the rest of us in the gallery tried to ignore him and I thought that his supervisors were grossly understating the situation. "They don't get me, man." He listened for a moment then laughed. "That's right, man. Too dumb to get me. Look, man, I'm going in there on Monday and I'm gonna hold those bitches down and rape the everloving--"

  "Sir!"

  I turned, startled, to see a tall guy built like a wrestler, wearing a dark suit and tie and an employee badge, standing before the jerk.

  "What?"

  "Sir, phone calls are not permitted in the gallery."

  The jerk rolled his eyes so dramatically I hoped he'd give himself a headache. "Whatever." Into the phone he said, "Gotta go, man. I'll call you later, after I take the bitch home." He listened again, then laughed. "Yeah, exactly, after I--"

  The employee moved closer and looked down on the guy, and though I couldn't see the employee's face any more I did see the guy flinch back. He ended his call without a word.

  One of those moments of silent mutual relief passed through the rest of us in the gallery, but it didn't last long. The guy left his phone in his pocket, no doubt due to the lingering presence of the employee, but though his volume was slightly less his rudeness didn't change.

  Jake and I kept trying to get away from him, and the poor blonde who was still trailing him and looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there, but to no avail. We did get some peaceful time, five minutes here and there and fifteen wonderful ones drinking tea in the gallery's café, but knowing he might show up at any point made me constantly jumpy.

  After he arrived in the area featuring the paintings of some famous Canadian artists, which Jake and I were enjoying analyzing and examining, and pronounced them all "gay faggot stuff", Jake sighed and said softly, "What do you want to do, Alexa?"

  I sighed too. "I hate being chased away, but I also--"

  "See, this rapes the shit out of those ones," the jerk said to the girl beside him.

  "I can't hear that word any more," I murmured, feeling sick. "He has no idea why it's inappropriate and somehow that makes it even worse. It's like it's a joke or something. He doesn't know what it means, why it matters."

  Jake nodded. "I hear you. Let's go."

  Sad, but knowing I wouldn't enjoy the rest of our time if we stayed, I said, "Okay." We headed toward the doorway and as we neared a bathroom I said, "Mind if I stop in there for a second?"

  "Of course not."

  He smiled at me, but I saw the sadness in his eyes, and I walked into the bathroom mentally cursing the guy who was ruining what should have been a great day for Jake and me.

  I flipped my skirt out of the way so I could pull down my leggings, and once I'd settled onto the toilet I dropped the skirt back over my thighs like always. Then I found myself lifting it back up so I could look at the tattoos. I hadn't looked, really looked, in ages, and I studied them, knowing what they said all too well though they were upside down to my eyes, and remembered what I'd said to Jake about that poster.

  Words only mean what we say they mean.

  Christophe had intended these words to mean that I was his property forever and that I would never be able to move on.

  But I had moved on.

  True, I still hadn't shown my naked body to a lover, but I had made huge strides toward that.

  More, I had burned Christophe's letter unread.

  Compared to that, how did that one word, spoken by an idiot who didn't even have enough brain power to pull up his pants, matter?

  It didn't.

  I'd wanted to be here with Jake, and I would go out there and tell him that and we would stay because we both wanted to. The jerk couldn't possibly hang around much longer, and then we could savor the peace of his absence.

  I finished up and rearranged my clothing, then laid a tentative hand against my thigh. Christophe's words had gone pretty deep, but there were still layers and layers of my body he hadn't been able to mark.

  I owned those.

  And I owned the marked-up layers too. I owned all of me.

  I ran both hands lightly across my thighs and knew that it wouldn't be long now before I showed them to a lover.

  To Jake.

  I knew I wanted to be with him, and I was so close, so achingly close, to being ready. I wasn't quite there yet, though. There were so many ways it could go wrong and I couldn't imagine how I'd handle the aftermath if it did.

  But someday I'd be ready.

  I left the cubicle and began to wash my hands, then startled as the jerk's blonde emerged from another cubicle.

  She froze in her tracks, then moved forward to a sink.

  We both washed and dried our hands, and as I pulled out my lipstick to give myself a touch-up she said in a rush, "Um, I'm sorry."

  I turned to her, and saw with a jolt that her eyes were full of tears. "For what?"

  She gave a choked laugh. "Come on. For that ass I'm with. People are muttering everywhere we go. I've never been so humiliated."

  I put away the lipstick unused. This mattered more. "Then why are you still with him? He doesn't deserve you."

  She blinked back her tears. "I just moved here from Vancouver and I don't know anyone. My best friend back home, this guy's her cousin's boyfriend's friend."

  As I tried to interpret this relationship, she said, "My friend's never met him but apparently the boyfriend's nice so we figured this guy would be too." She sniffled and began rummaging in her purse. "We figured wrong. And we only talked over email so I didn't get to hear him and how obnoxious he is. But now I know, and once this stupid date is over I'll never see the loser again."

  "Why wait until the date is over?"

  She looked up at me, surprised. "Pardon?"

  "If you think he's a loser, and I completely agree, why let him have any more of your time?"

  She blinked. "But I have to. It'd be rude to leave him."

  Before I could respond her mouth dropped open in a way I'd never thought actually happened in real life. She stared at me for a second then said, "What is wrong with me? He's the biggest loser ever. Of course I don't have to stay with him. I'm going to march right out there and tell him so."

  She snapped her purse shut. "Thank you." She winced. "And again, I'm sorry you had to hear all that."

  "Me too." I smiled at her. "But you're not the one who should be apologizing."

  She smiled back, shyly. "Thanks. Okay, I'm off to get rid of him."

  "Right behind you," I said, and made sure I was as we left the bathroom. There was approximately a zero percent chance that guy would back down without giving her grief and I wanted to make sure she wasn't on her own.

  As she pushed the bathroom door open, she muttered, "Oh, no," and I knew why because I could hear him shouting at someone.

  "No way, man, I say what I want. It's called free speech, ever heard of it? First fucking amendment, man. It's in the constitution."

  "That doesn't apply in Canada," said a calm voice.

  Jake's calm voice.

  I moved beside the woman so I could see Jake standing, his face serious and his arms folded, before the furious jerk.

  "What? Of course
it fucking does."

  The woman turned back to me and whispered, "A Canadian citizen thinks the American constitution applies in Canada? He's even more clueless than I thought."

  I couldn't hold back a giggle, both at her words and in happiness that Jake wasn't letting this slide, and the guy turned in our direction and glared at her. "There you are. Took you long enough. Come on, let's get the hell out of here. This asshole doesn't like my language, for some reason." He turned back to Jake. "Pussy," he spat, like it was the worst insult he could think of. "Fucking pussy. Rape's just a word, man. It's funny! I don't know what your problem is."

  The woman beside me hadn't moved, and he snapped at her, "Let's go, bitch."

  Jake took a step toward him. "I've asked you nicely not to call her that, and not to say the other word either. It's inappropriate, not funny. You don't know who's hearing you, and what they've been through. That's the problem with it. You need to stop. Now."

  The guy was about half a foot shorter than Jake and looked far less in shape, and I saw him take a breath to make an angry, no doubt rude, retort and then size up his opponent and realize he wouldn't win if it came to a fight. I couldn't imagine Jake would take it to the point of a brawl in the art gallery, but the guy didn't know that. "Pussy," he muttered again, then turned to the woman beside me. "Come on already. We're leaving."

  His 'do as I command' tone got my back up, but that was nothing compared to its effect on her. "Why don't you leave? This guy's right, you've been nothing but offensive the whole day, and I was coming out to tell you the same thing. So get lost. Oh, and I wasn't lost before, I was trying to stay away from you. Women should be staying away from you in droves, and I hope they do."

  A flicker of confusion crossed his face, and I had a feeling that 'droves' wasn't in his vocabulary, but he must have understood the rest because he said, "You're not worth my time," then glared at Jake and added, "Bitch," before stomping off toward the exit.

  Not surprisingly, quite a crowd had gathered, and they all smiled at Jake and there was even some scattered applause. Jake blushed fiercely but smiled back, and I saw his shoulders relax as the audience dispersed.