Just before closing the door, and with Jackson’s back to her, I whisper, “You suck.”
“You’re fine,” Julie says with a big grin on her face. “Have fun, you two.”
“I can’t believe she told you all of that,” I say, burying my face in my hands as we walk down the hallway.
“Oh, c’mon, she was just having fun.”
“Yep, it’s always good fun to embarrass someone.”
“What was so embarrassing?”
“Just… telling you that I’m a neat freak and I got rid of all of my stuff.”
It takes me a moment to put that into words, but as I say that I realize that’s not really what I find the most shameful.
It’s the fact that he saw our apartment.
“I guess I just wasn’t ready for you to see my place,” I mumble. “It’s not exactly the Ritz.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to be.”
I shrug.
Jackson stops walking and pulls me into his arms. “Harley, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You live on your own—“
“Well, I share a studio with a roommate.”
He puts his finger on my lips.
“You pay your own bills. You are making your own way in a very expensive city. And your apartment is charming. The reason I wanted a tour was that I wanted to have an image of where you are when we are apart. And now, I can see you there, sitting at your desk. Sleeping on your bed. And now I do.”
Chapter 27 - Harley
Above the city…
When we get outside, I expect Mr. Garbo to be waiting for us, but instead he presses a button on his keychain and a car’s headlights flash and a pre-programmed sequence of exterior lighting welcomes us inside.
The emblem at the front has a large B with a pair of wings.
It has clean, super formed lines and a wide body that sits low to the ground.
Jackson opens the door for me, and when I take a seat, I’m illuminated by interior mood lighting.
I’ve never been inside a car that was anything like this.
Its beautiful trim has a natural grain of wood contrasting with a clean, minimalist black finish.
The center console is elongated and white with another sleek finish.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask as we fly down the street inside an almost soundless cabin.
“It’s a Bentley Continental GT.”
“Do you like cars?”
“No, not really. But this one is…magnificent.”
“Thank you.” He smiles.
“I like that Chagall painting you have hanging above your bed.”
I found it at a thrift store awhile ago.
I remember I spent seventy-five dollars on it, seventy-five dollars that I didn’t really have.
Its large and imposing and came with a decorative gold frame that seemed to fit it perfectly.
I debated whether I should buy it for about a week before actually making the commitment.
And I haven’t regretted it since.
“Thank you, he’s my favorite artist.”
“The Bride and Groom of the Eiffel Tower.” Jackson names the title of the painting.
“That’s right. He painted it in 1939.”
“What do you like about it?”
“The colors are really striking. Bright yellows, blues, and reds. Also, I love how the groom is facing the bride and there’s a giant chicken behind them, you know, just because.” I laugh. “Chagall wasn’t much of a realist.”
“And don’t forget the goat playing the guitar.”
“The violin or is it a viola?” I smile. “How can anyone forget that?”
As we talk, whatever tension existed between us seems to vanish completely.
I’m not sure if it ever really existed except in my own mind.
We are heading to the Hamptons, which is about a two-hour drive from Manhattan.
Just as I settle in for the drive, we make a turn into what looks like a large lot. It’s pitch black, so I don’t have great visibility.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re taking a helicopter.”
Jackson hands someone the keys to his car and helps me up into it.
To say it’s a bit of a struggle in a gown would be an understatement. But once we take off, the view is well worth it.
Manhattan rises all around us, each building taller than the next.
Flying this high above the traffic makes everything a spectacle of lights.
I stare out of the window for the entire forty minutes it takes us to land.
Once we get to the Hamptons, we are greeted by another man with another car, this time a BMW.
The Hamptons are really a summer destination for the wealthy elite of Manhattan.
Though there are a number of locals who live here year-round, running businesses that cater to the tourists, there isn’t the same slew of activity here in the winter as there is in the summer.
“Have you ever been here before?” Jackson asks as we make our way down an empty road.
“A few years ago, Julie and about ten other people pitched in to rent a small two-bedroom cottage nowhere near the beach and I ended up going home early because someone peed on my cot and the party got to be too much.”
This makes him laugh.
“I’m sorry we haven’t had much time to talk this week.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“I’ve just been going through so much with this whole Swanson debacle.”
I nod.
“But I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
We drive for a few moments in silence.
“You know, you can talk to me about anything, right?” I say. “You don’t have to shut me out. You can tell me anything and your secrets will be safe with me.”
“I don’t really have any secrets.”
“You know what I mean.”
He takes a deep breath. I can see that this is a struggle for him.
“Minetta is losing a lot of money,” he says after a moment. “Everyday. I thought it was going much better than it was, but I had a meeting with my CFO this week and things look bleak, to say the least. We’ve expanded too fast and our readership and engagement is way down. That means that our ad revenues are going down. We’ve decided to shut down two divisions of content that were performing the worst, but it’s not enough to stop the bleeding. There are going to be layoffs within the company as well.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I was planning on divesting from the Swanson fund if anything like this happened. I had invested a lot with him and then, according to the returns that he sent, I thought that money had really mushroomed into something quite substantial. But now that it’s all a lie, I’ve lost what I put in as well. As far as the lawyers can tell, that is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it will take a long time for them to go through everyone’s paperwork and figure out exactly how much I and all the other investors lost. But for now, I don’t have access to any of that money, not even the original amount I invested.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“I have a few options, none of them really that good. I can sell the company, but given its current financial situation, it’s not doing that well, so it won’t fetch a good price. At least, not one that is appropriate to how well it has done in the past and how well I know it can do once it survives this cash-flow problem.”
I nod. “And the other options?”
“I can try to make a deal with an investment bank to take it public and infuse it with cash on the open market. Unfortunately, because it is losing money now, it again won’t get a good deal. And then, I’ll have to answer to shareholders as well.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
He shakes his head no.
“My other option is to put my house on the market. It went up in price a bit, and if it sells for that price, then I will at least have some mon
ey to put back into the business.”
He stares straight ahead as he speaks, saying everything in a matter-of-fact way.
His face is expressionless and blank, but I know that this is really hurting him inside.
He is losing everything that he worked for and built up from scratch.
“Where does Woodward fit in?” I ask.
Chapter 28 - Harley
When the masks go on…
Jackson looks over at me.
The one thing that isn’t void of all expression and coldness are his eyes.
There’s a desperation in them. Instead of the shrewd glare that they typically look at me with, I see cracks in the gaze.
Perhaps, even something resembling mist.
“I don’t know where that puts Woodward,” he says. “That’s why we’re here. If he’s willing to invest at the terms we talked about before, then I’m all ears. I’m happy to do business with him. The problem is that I know that he knows that I’m going through some financial difficulties. He definitely knows about Swanson.”
“But not how much you lost, right?”
“No, probably not. I can downplay that, but he’ll know that it will give him some leverage.”
I nod. The situation looks rather grave.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask as we pull up to a brightly lit mansion and a valet takes the car keys.
“Just be your normal charming self. He seemed to like you; maybe that’s something I can use to my advantage.”
I nod, never feeling like I’ve had more weight on my shoulders than I do at this moment.
I know that when Jackson said to be nice, he doesn’t want me to flirt with Woodward, let alone do anything else beyond that, but I still feel like this deal is partly on me and my behavior.
We put on our masks and make our way through the sea of other people, also wearing masks.
All I see are gowns and tuxedos all around me.
No one has a face.
I thought that it would feel strange to not see anyone eye-to-eye, but it’s actually quite refreshing.
I’m not a particularly outgoing person, being at these fancy events, I always feel a little bit uncomfortable and really out of place.
But with this mask on my face, I’m suddenly just one of the crowd.
I fit in. I’m one of the beautiful ladies who walk around with glasses of champagne making small talk with each other.
I don’t stand out one bit.
“Thank you for coming. I know it’s a bit of a trip.” Our host comes up to me and places his hand on the small of my back.
I recoil at first but then quickly relax into it because it would be rude not to.
Elliot Woodward pulls his mask to his forehead as he bends over and gives me a peck on the cheek. I reciprocate but keep my mask firmly in place.
“You look absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you, your party is…amazing.”
“My team aims to please,” he says and then shakes Jackson’s hand.
They chat for a bit, about nothing in particular, and then Woodward excuses himself to make the rounds.
“Hosting duties await,” he says. “But we will absolutely talk business tonight. Later, in private.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Jackson says.
I watch his demeanor during their brief talk and I’m amazed by how self-assured and confident Jackson appears.
Whatever fears he has have been buried deep inside and now he is simply the cool, calm, completely unfazed businessman that he was before.
Grabbing two new glasses of champagne, we start making our own rounds.
Jackson hasn’t been seen in public much, but everyone here seems to know him and he knows everyone else.
He introduces them to me with poignant anecdotes, immediately charming them.
I try to match his casual friendliness by smiling a bit too much and being too eager to talk to just about every stranger he introduces me to.
After I’ve met and forgotten about twenty people’s names, Jackson excuses himself to go to the restroom and I take a moment to step out onto the patio for a breath of fresh air.
“Excuse me, Ms. Burke? Harley Burke?” A flamingo of a woman on long legs and even longer torso approaches me.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“Will you come with me, please? Mr. Woodward would like a word with you.”
“Me? Are you sure you aren’t looking for Jackson?”
She smiles, shaking her head. “He asked specifically for you. Only you.”
My heart jumps into my throat.
Me?
Why would he ask for me?
I follow her toward the back of the house, to the kitchen, and up the marble staircase.
There is no party here, and the walls are so thick that you can’t even hear that there’s a party going on downstairs.
“What does he want?”
“I’m not really sure.”
After we reach a large wooden door with intricate carvings on the outside, the woman presses the doorbell and waits.
Maybe no one is here, I think joyfully, when no one responds for a moment.
But my hopes are quickly dashed.
“Come in,” Elliot says after a moment.
He stands up when I walk in and leads me to the couch near the fireplace.
“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
I lift up the glass of champagne that I still have in my hand. “No, thank you.”
“Thank you for coming, Harley. May I call you Harley?”
“Yes, of course.” He takes a seat directly in front of me in a large stuffed leather chair that makes a squeaking sound as he reclines into it.
“I have to be honest with you, I don’t really understand why I’m here.”
He puts his finger up at me and takes a whiff of his drink.
Then he slowly brings it up to his lips, taking a moment to swallow and enjoy his sip.
If he thinks that this is charming, then he must be delusional.
It annoys me that he’s wasting my time making me watch him.
But I don’t dare say a word.
I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize Jackson’s deal.
“Wow, that’s good,” he says, placing his arm on the armrest and then looking me up and down.
“I have a proposition for you, Harley.”
Confused, I furrow my brows.
“What kind of proposition?”
Chapter 29 - Harley
In his office…
I wait for answer, but then he suddenly changes the topic.
He gets up and starts pacing the room.
“What do you think about my party?” he asks.
I don’t want to be rude, so I answer.
“It’s really beautiful. I’ve never been here in the winter.”
“Yes, I know. The Hamptons are pretty dead around this time of year. A lot of the locals really struggle to make ends meet. You know, no summer people with their big wallets to overspend on everything.”
I nod.
It’s amazing how he can sound both sympathetic and like a total rich asshole at the same time.
“There aren’t too many fun things to do around here this time of year. Christmas is over and it’s not spring yet, so I thought, what the hell? Why not do something lavish to break up this horrible winter?”
“Well, you certainly succeeded.” I take another sip of my champagne and wait for him to tell me why he really brought me here.
He walks closer to me, but instead of sitting down across from me, he takes a seat right next to me.
He’s so close that I actually scoot a little away from him, but there’s nowhere to really go since I’m on the edge of the couch.
Elliot places his arm around the back of the couch and moves a little bit closer.
“Why did you bring me here?”
He licks his lips before answering.
“I was just wondering exactly how interested you are in me saving your friend’s company?”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach.
All the blood seems to drain away from my face and I freeze.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know.” He places his hand on my knee.
Before I can remove it, it’s traveling up my leg.
“What are you doing?” I push my hand against his. He exhales and sits back against the couch.
“I thought we had a bit of a connection,” he says.
“Just because I was nice to you?”
“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly.
“I’m with Jackson.”
“Why do you want to have anything to do with that hermit? He hasn’t left the house in ages and he probably doesn’t even know how to fuck properly.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” I hiss and rise to my feet.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I do know something about you,” he says, standing up as well.
I narrow my eyes.
“You are an escort. Men pay you money, good money, for you to do bad things to them. Well, whatever Jackson is paying you, I’ll double it.”
I shake my head in disgust.
“I am not an escort.”
“Really? What about your blog?”
Saying that word, it’s as if he had hit the side of my head with a bag of rocks.
“Oh, you didn’t think that I would know. Well, surprise!” His voice is coarse and taunting. He is enjoying this. A lot.
I’ve had enough.
Without another word, I head straight toward the door.
But he blocks me.
Shivers run down my spine as I have a flashback to being in that car with the doors locked.
He pulls my hair back and presses his mouth onto mine.
I try to push him away, but he is holding me too tightly.
So, I do the only thing that comes to mind.
I bite down on his lower lip as hard as I can.
“You bitch!” he yells, holding onto his bleeding mouth.
I grab the door and run out.
From the main stairwell, I scan the room for Jackson but I can’t pick him out of the crowd.
Tangled up in Pain Page 10
