Been Searching For You

by Nicole Evelina

  A moment later, they flashed to life as Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” blared through the speakers, then it quieted as Eva read Mia’s bio. I almost choked when Mia emerged from the wings, hands on her hips in supermodel style, long red hair swinging with each stomping step. I hardly heard Eva’s account of Mia’s time gracing the runways of Paris, Milan, and New York because I was too busy staring slack-jawed as Mia strutted down the catwalk in a one-shouldered metallic-silver cocktail dress ruched at the waist to accentuate her curves. It was longer than her other dress but left little to the imagination.

  When she approached the end of the runway, she paused, turning once. Then the music quieted, and she addressed the crowd. “I’m Mia LaRue, and my synonym for great is wicked!” She made rock n’ roll devil horns with the pinkie and forefinger of her right hand. “I chose this word because being great is about more than excelling at something. You have to have a special little spice to rise from good to great.” She paused for half a beat. “And just so you know, I’m accepting bids from men and women.” She winked at the crowd, which tittered in response.

  Eva cleared her throat with a touch of disapproval. “Thank you, Mia. We will begin the bidding at one hundred dollars.”

  I tuned out as the room exploded in a volley of shouted figures, each higher and louder than the next. Miles emerged from the crowd and rejoined us at the bar. I leaned into him to be heard over the noise.

  “How do you stand this?” I gestured toward the chaos. “When you’re together, I mean.”

  He sipped his drink through a thin straw. “Comes with the territory. You don’t like it, then you’d better run because you certainly won’t be able to handle Mia. She’s this multiplied by a hundred all by herself.”

  After only a few minutes of bidding, Mia’s price was in the thousands and the auction was down to two contestants: Alex and a sultry brunette with huge doe eyes who looked as if she could have given Mia a run for her money. The bidding was up to five thousand dollars, and she wasn’t backing down. Her bright, sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks betrayed the thrill she was getting out of the competition. Alex, however, did not look as excited. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared the woman down.

  “Ten thousand dollars,” he shouted.

  The crowd gasped. All eyes turned toward the woman. She considered his offer for a moment then slowly shook her head.

  Eva brought down her gavel. “We have a winner! Mia LaRue has just raised a record-breaking ten thousand dollars. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  As the crowd cheered, Mia winked at the brunette—whose number she would no doubt be in possession of by the end of the night—then blew a kiss at Alex before turning on her spiked heel and exiting the stage.

  I had to rise up on my tiptoes to get near Alex’s ear. “Does she know you were bidding for someone else?”

  “I have no idea. I’m just glad I don’t have to pay for her.”

  Was it my imagination or had his voice held a hint of disgust? So he wasn’t interested in supermodel-perfect, trampy Mia. Good. Maybe his tastes ran more toward the girl next door.

  Inspired by that thought—or perhaps it was the alcohol kicking in—I bit my lower lip and asked, “Would you have bid on me?”

  He turned to me and looked me over again. “Now that’s a different story.” A breathtaking grin lit up his face. “I’d pay a lot more for you. Fine things are worth more than what’s common for a reason.”

  My heart melted. I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by an auction official who’d come to collect Alex’s—or rather Paulo’s—payment information. By the time Alex had explained the situation to the official, Mia was strutting toward us as quickly as her sky-high heels would let her.

  “There’s the man with the best taste in the room,” she yelled over the chaos of Paulo’s auction. She grabbed Alex by the lapel and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Hello, handsome.”

  So she didn’t know he’d bought her for someone else. I couldn’t wait to see Alex set her straight. But before Alex could even react, Miles took my hand and dragged me over to the nearest standing table.

  “What the hell, Miles? We’re going to miss all the fun.”

  He fixed me with his I-mean-business stare. “I heard what Alex said to you. Enjoy the compliment, but don’t take it as anything more.”

  “Why not?”

  “He referred to just getting out of a long-term relationship earlier. From the sound of it, the wound is still pretty fresh. I think he wants her back, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “You just reconnected with him. What do you know about his heart?”

  “I knew the woman. She was special to him.”

  “Was being the key word. So what if he wants her back? He doesn’t have her right now, does he?” I narrowed my eyes at him as a thought occurred to me. “If the situation was reversed, would you be warning Mia off him?”

  “Of course not. She can handle herself.”

  I threw up my hands. He was always big-brothering me. “Happy birthday, Annabeth! Here’s a hot guy who might be interested in you, but Miles thinks you’re too fragile to handle him. Thanks a lot.” Before he could reply, I turned away and went back to Alex’s side.

  As I eyed a tall Latino man who had joined our group—had to be Paulo—Alex leaned down and whispered, “You okay?”

  “Fine. Miles was just being an overprotective friend,” I said, crossing my arms to show I didn’t want to talk about it.

  My face must have betrayed my emotions more than I thought because Mia leaned over to me. “Buck up, Pookie. This is no way to spend the last few hours of your birthday.”

  I gave her a withering look, not in the mood for her to patronize me.

  “So where’s the lucky lady who ‘won’ you?” Miles asked Paulo, mercifully changing the subject.

  Paulo nodded toward the crowd, where a noisy volley of figures signaled the beginning of another auction. “Back into the fray. She’s bidding on someone for her daughter. I’m supposed to call her tomorrow.”

  Behind us, two women erupted into a high-pitched yelling match over the current bachelor.

  Paulo winced. “I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather finish our evening somewhere quiet than listen to forty-seven more of these. Since we’ve all fulfilled our obligations, what do you say we head out?”

  “I know the perfect place,” Mia cooed. “There’s a little jazz bistro on Eire that’s just cozy enough for us to get to know each other.” She squeezed Paulo’s bicep while smoldering at Alex and Miles. “Oh, remind me to tell you what that Vogue photographer said to me last weekend. It’s the funniest thing.”

  I rolled my eyes. So that was how the night was going to go. Queen Mia would hold court with her suitors and regale us with stories of her latest worldwide escapades. That was pretty much par for the course, but I didn’t want to deal with it. With her in control, Alex and I wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise, much less get to know one another, which was all I really wanted.

  “Why don’t we ask the birthday girl where she wants to go?” Miles said. “That’s your agreement, right? You do what she wants tonight?”

  Mia’s face fell as she remembered our pact. “Yeah.”

  I could have forced the issue and insisted on getting my own way, but my inner introvert was exhausted. Finishing out the evening with a hot bath and a good book was sounding better by the minute, especially since I couldn’t spend the evening talking with Alex.

  I forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Go wherever you’d like. I’m getting a headache—probably too much champagne. I think I’m going to head home.”

  “Are you sure?” Alex asked. “Maybe you just need some fresh air. At least let me walk you out.”

  I took his proffered arm. “That’s very sweet, thank you.” Looking over my shoulder, I called, “Have fun, you guys.”

  While we waited for the coat check girl to emerge from the sea of leather, down, and fa
ux fur, Alex drummed his fingers on the countertop. “So what’s with Mia calling you ‘Pookie’? Is there something I should know about?”

  It took me a second to realize he was asking if Mia and I were together. When I finally did, I burst out laughing. “No, no, it’s not like that at all. I mean, she’s into girls too, but I’m not.” I found myself reaching out to touch him, but I changed direction to fiddle with my hair instead. “It’s an inside joke. She says it to annoy me.”

  The girl returned with my coat, and Alex gallantly took it from her and helped me into it. “So what’s the story?”

  He walked me to the curb as I explained. “It goes back a few years. I told her once that ‘The Tango Maureen’ from the musical Rent should have been called ‘The Tango Mia’ because she’s as complicated and manipulative in her relationships as Maureen. She responded by calling me ‘Pookie,’ and it kind of stuck.”

  “Maureen’s pet name for her lovers when she wants something. Nice.”

  I stopped in my tracks, turning toward him. “You know the musical? I’m impressed.”

  “It’s one my favorites. I studied it when I worked as a dramaturge during my college internship.”

  Handsome English professor who knows Chicago history, studied theatre, and made an effort to say good-bye to me… could this guy get any more perfect? There had to be a catch. There always was—ask any woman. I knew he wasn’t gay, so that left the ex.

  She had to be it. But how could I ask about her without seeming all crazy stalker?

  I looked around as though the perfect question would be written on the buildings towering over us. All I succeeded in doing was catching the eye of a cabbie who, guessing correctly that I needed a ride home, started his engine and pulled up to the curb in front of us.

  “I guess this is my signal to go home,” I said. The part of my brain that would forever be sixteen prayed he would ask for my number.

  Alex hesitated, leaning toward me, then pulled back. He opened his mouth then closed it again. Instead, he took my hand and kissed it just as before. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Annabeth. Happy birthday.” He squeezed my hand. “We’ll miss you tonight.”

  My breath caught, and I cleared my throat. “Thank you. I enjoyed meeting you as well.” He didn’t say anything else or make another move, so if I wanted to see him again, it was up to me. I mentally took a deep breath. “Since I’m bailing on you tonight, what do you say I make it up to you over coffee sometime?”

  Alex’s gaze turned toward the pavement. He shuffled his foot. “Now really isn’t the best time. Maybe in the future.”

  I held up a hand to forestall any further excuses. “Say no more. I had to at least ask.” Inside, disappointment was hardening into a crust of ice around my heart, but there was no way I would let him know that. I reached into my handbag and withdrew a business card. “In case you change your mind.”

  He took it with a soft smile. “I meant what I said about wanting to read your book. I’ll email you when my class load is light enough to give it due attention.”

  I turned toward the cab, and Alex opened the door for me. As I got in, I couldn’t resist casting one last glance in his direction, drinking in the green and gold flecks in his eyes. A hint of sadness glinted in them as if he regretted our parting as much as I did.

  I closed the door, gave the driver my address, and raised a hand in farewell. Alex mirrored my gesture, not breaking eye contact until distance forced us both to look away.

  I sat back with a sigh and closed my eyes. The city passed by as brief spots of light behind my lids as the driver turned down Michigan Avenue. Seriously, God, is this your idea of a joke? Give me a guy for my birthday, but he’s not interested? Thanks a lot.

  The taxi crossed over the river, getting closer to my empty apartment with every second. I thought about the box waiting for me with its growing collection of letters. It didn’t appear I was any closer to finding their intended recipient. But what did I expect after only one night?

  I directed my thoughts to that soul at the other end of my invisible red cord. Whoever you are, I hope you really can feel me. At least that way you’ll know how much you’re needed and how mad I am that you’re so slow in getting here. I obviously can’t leave our future up to you. In that moment, I made promise to myself and to him. I will find you this year…one way or another.

  CHAPTER TWO

  March

  I was dreaming, but I couldn’t wake myself. The past came to life in flashes, snippets of long-repressed memories jumbled together. I was back in Rome, during my senior year of college, with my best friend, a lanky boy with gorgeous baby blues and James Dean looks.

  One minute I’m kissing him passionately, intent on crossing the line between friends and lovers by giving him my virginity. Nick’s lips, the heat between us, is all I know.

  Then there’s the soft rumble of his voice as he whispers, “All this time you were writing those letters, and I was right in front of you. You could have just told me.”

  My stomach muscles seize up as I realize he’s wrong; those letters aren’t for him. The hard muscle of his chest as I push him away, babbling about him not being “the one.” The bruising pressure of his fingers as he tries to convince me to relax, to give in. The jolt of pain in my arm as he tries to pull me back when I finally wriggle free of his weight to hide in the bathroom.

  Now I’m trembling, naked on the bathroom floor as he hurls through the door an alternating string of curses about me being a tease and apologies for hurting me. A hole punched in the hotel wall. Dust motes floating through a golden sunrise as I peek out, relieved he’s gone.

  Nick’s final words to me when we meet in passing weeks later. “I can’t take this anymore. We’re done.”

  I woke with a start, sitting upright, and looked around in wan light of my bedroom, dazed. What day was it? Sunday. Good, I could go back to sleep. I flopped back down on my pillow, images from my dream flashing in front of my eyes. Why, why had my mother mentioned Nick when we talked on the phone last night? If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have thought of him, wouldn’t have dreamed about him and had to relive our tumultuous past. It could have been much worse—he could have raped me—but his violent temper still traumatized me. No matter how much she wanted us to be together, I was not looking him up on Facebook. Best to leave the past buried.

  A loud noise made me jump, and I realized someone was banging on my front door. I ran a hand across my face and considered pulling the covers over my head until whoever it was went away. Bang, bang, bang—fist on wood like the firing of a line of cannons. With a grunt, I forced myself into my robe and slippers. Glancing out the window, I noted not quite a foot of snow accumulated on the balcony. All I wanted was to veg on the couch with my laptop and a cup of tea. Whoever was at the door had better make it quick.

  As soon as I saw Mia and Miles grinning at me from the other side of the threshold, all hope of that happening evaporated. “Can I help you?”

  “Looks like we’re snowed in. We thought we’d have a little quality time,” Miles said.

  “Plus, I’m craving pancakes,” Mia added unhelpfully.

  “So go to the diner down the street. My name is not Denny.” I moved to close the door, wondering if they were drunk or just delirious on that annoying kind of happiness only rekindled romance can give a person. “Just because you live upstairs,” I said to Mia, “does not mean you can drop by whenever you want.”

  Miles stopped the door with his palm, and Mia spoke up. “Pleeeaase, Pookie? It’s not like you were going anywhere anyway. And besides, you make the best chocolate chip pancakes. Plus”—she reached into the bag Miles was holding and removed a bottle of champagne, probably from her seemingly endless supply—“I’m making mimosas.”

  “I hope there’s OJ in there because I’m fresh out,” I said, stepping back to let them in.

  Mia squeezed Miles’s shoulder. “He thinks of everything!”

  I peered into the bag. A lonely
jug of orange juice stared back.

  “Except for the eggs, milk, mix, and chocolate it’ll take to make your pancakes,” I retorted, allowing bitterness to creep into my voice. To drive home my displeasure, I banged around a few pots and pans before bending down to find the only skillet large enough to feed three people. “I love you guys, but I just saw you yesterday. What gives?”

  “Glad you asked.” Miles plopped down on the sofa. He pulled my laptop onto his knee and opened it. “We are here to offer our expert guidance in filling out your Heart+Soul account.”

  I stood up so fast I nearly hit my head on the open cabinet door above me. “No. I take a lot from you guys, but I will not do the online dating thing. I meet enough crazies in real life. I don’t need help from the Internet. Besides”—I gestured at Mia with a wooden spoon—“it’s your account anyway, Miss Top Chicago Single.”

  She snorted, nearly in time with the popping of the champagne cork. “Like I need it. It’s six months free, and I gave it to you, remember? You may as well try it. Consider it payment for the pancakes.”

  “Did you or did you not vow to find your soul mate?” Miles pinned me with a level stare.

  “Yes, but—”

  “And what exactly have you done in the last month to make that happen?”

  Uh-oh, I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly where this was headed. “Um, nothing, but…” But what? I didn’t have an excuse. I hadn’t done anything because deep down, I was a chicken shit who was afraid of men. Was that what he wanted to hear?

  “So what right do you have to say no?”