“You know I gave all that up,” Mr. Gabriel barked.
“Well, you always were a selfish person, and with such delectable beauty sitting right in front of you, and…” He glanced over at me briefly before turning back to my boss. “…I’m guessing in your bed as well, I had to ask.”
Mr. Gabriel’s hands balled into fists, knuckles white as he tried to restrain himself. The man turned his attention from him, back to me. I pulled back against the bench.
His expression softened, slightly, as he watched me cower. “I’m just trying to protect you, sweetheart.”
Shaking my head, I asked, “Protect me from what?”
“From him,” he said. “Last model he seduced ended up dead. If you don’t want to end up the same way, I’d seriously consider staying as far away from him as possible.”
“That’s enough, Cyrus,” Mr. Gabriel snapped.
The man, Cyrus, held up his hands defensively. I hadn’t even noticed until then that he’d been carrying a takeout bag and soda. He stepped back with his food casually. I hoped he’d just keep walking. Disappear. My thoughts were whirling. I felt like I was either going to faint or throw up. Cyrus was still watching me, however.
“See you at the show, Reagan. Brandon said he’d send you a personalized invitation.” He chuckled. “You really did a number on him. Haven’t seen him this excited about a show in years.”
With that, he turned around and walked out of the shop. The air around us buzzed with tension, fear pressing down on me. I couldn’t look at him when I spoke. “Is that the reason you haven’t dated recently? The last woman you slept with died?”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s not like Cyrus made it sound. I didn’t hurt her.” His voice was insistent, but I still couldn’t look at him. Trying again, he said, “Why would people at the office be happy about me seeing someone again if they thought I had hurt her?”
“But Cyrus thinks that.” My voice sounded hollow. Too much had been thrown at me in the last two days and I couldn’t fit it all into my head in that moment.
“He blames me for what happened. I blame myself,” he admitted, “but it wasn’t…it was just a horrible tragedy. It has nothing to do with you, Reagan. He had no right to say you should stay away from me.”
Pushing my plate away, I reached blindly for my purse, my fingers cinching around it when I felt the cloth. “I’m not running away,” I said quietly, “but I need some time to think. About everything. I need to go back to my office.”
I slid out of the bench and held up a hand when he tried to follow. “We can talk later,” I promised. “Just give me a little time, please.”
“Reagan,” he begged, but didn’t continue. A sigh so deeply felt it made his breath quiver escaped his body. “Okay. Call me, okay?”
I nodded and turned away. As I walked back to the office, alone, I told myself maybe I should have stayed, let him explain everything. I was mostly sure there was a reasonable explanation. The hatred that sparked between the two made that difficult to believe. Cyrus looked calm on the outside, but his eyes made a liar of him. If given the chance, I had no doubts he would do everything he could to make Mr. Gabriel pay for whatever it was that happened to this model. Guilt had fairly poured off my boss, confusing me even more.
I’d already had reservations about taking one intoxicating sexual encounter to the level of a real relationship. Now, I was terrified to let him explain. I knew all too well that past mistakes tended to loop, failure on repeat. As much as I’d tried to learn from my relationship catastrophes, I kept making mistakes, giving the men in my life new reasons to walk away. Cyrus believed the same would happen with Mr. Gabriel. Who was I to doubt that?
Knowing Emily would still be out to lunch, I texted rather than calling.
I’m paying up on the bet. We’re going out tonight. I know a place.
EIGHT
The Path
I didn’t stop at my floor. I went straight up to Marie’s floor and walked into her office without knocking. She looked up from her computer, took in my demeanor, and leaned back in her chair. We sat there in silence for several long moments. She let me stew until I was ready to talk. I knew there had been questions about our relationship when I first started with the magazine, but it had never been like that between Marie and me. We were friends, one of the few I trusted enough to lay it all out to when I needed someone to listen.
“I’m going to kill Cyrus the next time I see him.”
Marie shrugged. “You’re hardly the first person to feel that way about him.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “What did he do this time?”
“Ran into Reagan and I at lunch and basically told her to stay away from me because the last model I’d seduced had ended up dead.”
She kept her expression neutral, but I saw the way her eyes narrowed by the slightest degree. “And did you explain what actually happened to Keira?”
“I tried to,” I said, “but Reagan was already upset with me over this morning and how everyone has been acting, and I think this was just too much. She said she needed some time to think and she’d call me later.”
Marie sighed. “You really did pull quite the dick move this morning, Donovan. Honestly, what were you thinking?”
I sank down in my chair, pouting. “I thought we were on the same page.”
“Same page?” She shook her head at me. “There is a vast difference between a night of passion and a relationship. Giving in on one hardly meant she was ready for the other.” Holding her hands up, she shook off my stupidity and refocused.
“Between dinner with Brandon, the photoshoot, you all but attacking her sexually, and Cyrus, I can see why she needs some time. Give it to her. Reagan’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’ll think everything through and call. She’s just as far gone over you as you are with her. She won’t throw that away because Cyrus intentionally tried to scare her and drive a wedge between you two. Calm down. You’re giving me a fucking headache.”
Still slouching in my chair, I asked, “You really think she’ll call?”
Marie rolled her eyes. “God, Donovan, you sound like a twelve year old girl. Man up, will you? We’ve got actual work to do today.”
Grumbling, I sat up in my chair and tried to remember what this meeting was supposed to be about. It took me a moment to remember she hadn’t given a reason. I’d been hoping to take a long lunch, with Reagan, when I’d gotten an email from Marie mid-morning telling me to report to her office when I got back.
“What exactly did you want to discuss?” I asked. “I already sent you an update on our progress toward the print deadline. Online, we’re almost ready to go, well ahead of time.”
Marie squared up, which wasn’t a good sign. “I wanted to remind you that I’m stealing Reagan tomorrow, and I plan on keeping her for lunch as well, so don’t try to interfere.”
Wary, I watched her closely. “You could have emailed me about that.”
“Yes, well, there was one other thing, and I thought it would be better to discuss it in person.”
Now I was really concerned. Marie abhorred meetings and avoided them whenever possible. She preferred to spend her time working one on one with her staff to make sure everything was of the highest quality and running smoothly. This meeting, I’d assumed had to do with Reagan, making sure I hadn’t done something stupid that would cause her to leave. It hadn’t seemed that unusual, given the circumstances. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t Reagan.
“I had dinner with Rudolph Matthews last night.” She paused, watching my reaction.
“Why?”
Marie squirmed, which she never did. “He has a fundraiser coming up to build support for arts in public schools and start several programs in lower income areas that have no funds or access to art or music classes.”
“And?” I asked, drawing out the word as my anxiety rose.
“And, he asked if you’d contribute something.” She held my gaze, but her eyes were wide in an
ticipation of my refusal. “Something new. Original.”
Hurt that she’d actually ask me, the feeling was quickly consumed by anger that either of them would even propose such a thing.
“Don’t give me an answer right away,” Marie said quickly. “Take the rest of the week to think about it. He doesn’t need a firm answer until Monday.”
I wanted to shout that she already knew what my answer would be. How dare she ask something like that! After everything I’d lost and given up, I couldn’t believe she hadn’t laughed in Rudolph’s face and spared me this moment. She was supposed to be my friend.
“I think it might help,” she said quietly.
“Help?” I growled.
“Okay,” she said defensively, “but maybe it’s time. Doesn’t Reagan prove that you’re ready to move on? You’ve barely looked at a woman since Keira, until meeting her. Now, she’s spent the last two nights at your apartment!”
Standing abruptly, the chair I’d been sitting in screeched as it was shoved backward. “It’s not about me,” I snapped. “It about the fucking risk! You know that. How dare you suggest I put anyone else at risk!”
Marie sank into her chair. “Donovan, I’m not suggesting that. I wouldn’t. I just think you’re holding onto a threat that isn’t there anymore, damn it, and it’s making you unhappy. You want Reagan? Let go of Keira and what happened. You can’t hope to build something with her when you’ve buried so much of yourself and refuse to really move on.”
Fuming and unable to face her questions, I left. She didn’t try to stop me. I was just walking back into my office when I got a text from Reagan. Hope that she was willing to talk lifted my foul mood. Then I tapped on the message and it plummeted even more.
I’m going out with Emily tonight. I’ll call you after.
That was it. No indication of what she was thinking or feeling, other than that she wanted to do both away from me at the moment. Slumping into my chair behind my desk, I had little hope of focusing on anything other than the possibility of losing Reagan, Rudolph’s request, and Marie’s prediction that the two weren’t mutually exclusive.
***
“How on earth did you find this place?” Emily asked as we walked up to Charlie’s.
“Mr. Gabriel. It’s where he had Ben drop me off for drinks after that awful dinner with Brandon.”
Emily gave me a withering look. “Would you please stop calling him Mr. Gabriel already? It’s creepy. You’re sleeping with him, for god’s sake.” She ignored my annoyed huff and glanced at the slightly dingy building again. Then she shrugged and yanked the door open.
On a Wednesday night, it wasn’t overly busy. Slightly more so than it had been on Monday, but still not to the point where we couldn’t have our pick of tables. Unsure of whether or not we were supposed sit down somewhere on our own or wait for a hostess, I turned to ask Emily what she thought. Halfway there, I spotted a familiar face.
“You’re breaking my heart, girl,” Charis said teasingly. “First you show up here with Donovan Gabriel, and when you come back, it’s with this gorgeous little peach. What are you trying to do to me?” She was grinning, clearly enjoying the heat creeping onto my face.
Emily was dying. “Isn’t watching her try not to blush the best?” my friend said through her laughter.
Charis’s smile became less teasing and more sultry. “Yes it is.”
I hadn’t considered Charis might be working when I suggested this place to Emily. “Nice to see you again.”
“Just the two of you?” she asked. “Or will Mr. Overbearing be joining you as well?”
“He didn’t do anything that night, really.” I felt a little silly defending him, but I didn’t appreciate her judgment. “I was having a rough night and got upset. Nothing more.”
“Okay, all right,” Charis said. “Table for two it is. Come on, I’ll get you a spot with some privacy. This has girl’s night out to vent written all over it.”
Slightly embarrassed she had picked up on that, I trailed behind her and Emily. By the time we reached the table, I was feeling less pitiful and took my seat without feeling the need to hide.
“Now, what can I get you two ladies to drink?” Charis asked.
“Heineken for me,” Emily said.
Charis’s lips turned up in a smile, and I knew she was hoping I’d say whiskey again. Like I needed to make a fool of myself any more this week than I already had. “Just a glass of white, please, something not too dry.”
She chuckled to herself, took our dinner orders, and then promised to be back in a few minutes. I tried to avoid Emily’s gaze by looking at the menu, but she was laughing again and hard to ignore.
“Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said it was a sexy lesbian waitress who’d gotten you liquored up on whiskey. If I hadn’t realized I wasn’t into girls as much as I was the idea of being into girls, I’d be all over that. She’s hot.”
I shook my head at her. Emily was perpetually happy. She took nothing too seriously, tried whatever she felt like trying, loved being around people, and enjoyed life as much as possible. I loved her. Didn’t always totally understand her, but she was the best friend I’d ever had. I could tell her anything without fear of judgement, and I had told her just about everything.
Charis returned with our drinks, took our dinner orders, and left after saying, “Flag me down if you need anything,” which Emily seemed to take as a proposition and spent several minutes laughing over.
Once she’d calmed herself back down, she parked her elbows on the table and pinned me with a serious look. “Okay, what happened at lunch today? You looked completely freaked out when you came back alone. You didn’t break up with him over this morning, did you? Even though I admit he was thinking more with his dick than his brain on that move, he is absolutely gone for you and you’d be insane to throw that away.”
I sighed. “No, I didn’t break up with him. Largely because I hadn’t even agreed that we were together yet.” Shaking my head, I took a drink of my wine and savored the rich, slightly sweet taste. “I did tell him I wasn’t very happy about this morning, and I told him why, but that wasn’t even a tenth of why I came back alone.”
Now Emily was hooked. Leaning forward, she drank down a third of her beer and settled in. “Tell me everything.”
Before launching into the whole bizarre encounter, I asked a question. “Do you know a local gallery owner named Cyrus? I don’t know his last name…”
“Oh sure,” Emily said. “Everyone around here knows Cyrus Marpole. Personally, I think he’s a douche, but man’s got a keen eye for talent and always has the best and freshest new artists in his gallery, not to mention gets superstars like Brandon on a regular basis. I’ve been to several shows at his gallery, and I’m always blown away.” She plopped her chin onto her palm, head tilting to the side. “Why do you ask?”
I hesitated. Cyrus’s last name seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it outside Brandon’s mention of the gallery. Emily had said earlier that she didn’t know what was behind Mr. Gabriel not dating. If she knew Cyrus, knew something about his personal history, there was a chance she’d have some of the answers I needed and wasn’t ready to get from Mr. Gabriel. Did I really want to know? Would finding out ruin the fantasy I’d been hoping for?
There was no way to know without asking.
“What do you know about Cyrus? Personally. Ever heard anything about a model he knew dying?”
For a minute, she seemed confused by the question. Then she perked up. “Wait, yeah. If I remember right, his sister was a model. I’m not sure about the details, but I know she died a while back. There’s a picture of her in his gallery with this plaque below it that said when she died. I can’t remember the specific date.”
My stomach sank. She was his sister? No wonder he’d been so angry. It wasn’t just some model my boss had supposedly hurt…gotten killed. She had been his sister. I didn’t know either of them, and didn’t particularly like Cyrus all that much
, but sadness weighed on me.
The screech of a chair being pulled back made me panic. For a split second I thought Mr. Gabriel had guessed where I’d be and come to find me. Relief washed through me when I realized it was only Charis joining us. I thought she should probably be checking on our food, or helping the other diners, but when her hand landed gently on my shoulder, I actually appreciated the concern in her expression.
“Hey, is everything all right? You look like you’re about to burst into tears.”
“It’s just…been a long week.”
She shook her head. “And it’s only halfway over.” She chuckled a little, but still had a worried expression on her face. “Is this about Gabriel? You are too young and pretty to be stuck in a relationship that’s doing this to you.”
“No, it’s not like that,” I argued.
She sighed “I’ve heard that before.”
Thankfully, Emily jumped to the rescue. “No, really. Mr. G adores her. But, he swore off dating a while back, and it sounds like it might have something to do with this gallery owner, Cyrus Marpole’s, sister.”
Settling in despite being at work, Charis folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Something happen to this girl?”
Emily and I looked at each other. This was going to sound bad, but for some reason I said it anyway. “She’s dead.”
Expectedly, Charis sat up a little straighter. “What? As in, died tragically of cancer, or was murdered or something? Was Gabriel involved?”
“I think he…dated her.” Her eyes went a little wider. She already didn’t seem to like my boss, and all I was doing was making it worse, but I kept talking. “Cyrus, the woman’s brother, blames him for her death. He ran into us at lunch and basically told me to stay away from Mr. Gabriel so I didn’t end up like her. I thought they were going to start throwing punches, and I was so freaked out by the whole thing, I kind of bailed before I could get a real explanation.”
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