TWENTY
The Miami conference kicked into high gear the following morning—back-to-back speakers and breakout sessions. A few account managers showed up bleary-eyed from drinking at the hotel bar until the wee hours, but they were soon swept up in the momentum of the conference.
Splitting headache? Tough it out. You brought it on yourself.
Melina contributed her thoughts during small group sessions only when she was certain to be right. Although she was gaining a reputation beyond the Seattle and Indianapolis offices, Melina still felt cowed by some of the chief executives—men who didn’t just talk strategy, they defined it.
As the day wore on, Melina’s energy took a dive and she found herself mentally checked out, planning for a break by the pool before dinner. It felt like a recess bell when the moderator excused the final panel of presenters and dismissed the audience. Pursuit’s staff streamed toward the doors.
Melina dressed again in her bathing suit, hat and sunglasses and took refuge at the pool for some real relaxation this time, uninterested in attracting attention. She just wanted time to think.
But she was interrupted.
“Excuse me? Are you saving this seat?”
“No, go ahead—sorry, I’ll move that.” Melina’s robe hung carelessly from the deck chair next to her. The pool deck had filled considerably and the chair next to her was one of the only empties left.
A curvy girl in a cherry-print bikini top and matching sarong sat down. “Thanks. I didn’t realize everyone would have the same idea.”
“No problem,” Melina said quickly, willing her mind back to that blissful floating place it had been before she was interrupted. She breathed the warm air slowly.
“I’m Lyndley,” the girl went on. “You’re Melina, right? From the Seattle office?”
Melina tipped up her hat, certain that her chance to tune out the world was gone for good. “Yes, I’m a senior account executive there,” she confirmed. “And you’re from…?”
“The Dallas office. Sorry, I should have introduced myself better, since you don’t know me but I already feel like I know you. I work with Eric Greer sometimes. We collaborated on a seminar for designers last year and he told me a lot about the work you’ve been doing.”
Melina’s mind flashed to Joshua’s neighbor, who always delivered better than expected or directed. “Eric is a great partner. I’m afraid he’s not here this year, but I’ll definitely let him know I saw you.”
Melina was ready to close down the conversation, pick up her things and go back to her hotel room, but Lyndley was clearly intent on making friends.
“So what are you doing tonight, after the dinner banquet? I’m going out dancing with a bunch of other designers—you want to turn on your right brain and join us?”
Melina smiled with manufactured enthusiasm, ready to reject Lyndley’s invitation because it had little chance of advancing her professionally. She should be in an expensive club drinking top-shelf martinis with partners and senior account executives, not slugging down Appletinis with a bunch of designers.
Before she could find a way to politely decline, they heard shrieks of laughter and Lyndley made a short, sharp gesture, pointing to a scene in the pool. Two busty, bikini-clad girls were chicken fighting in the pool, each perched on the shoulders of a man, grasping at the other girl, trying to pull her into the water.
The men, old enough to father the girls, clearly relished the opportunity to be in such close proximity to their smooth, tanned thighs and glittering belly rings. The girls pushed and twisted, and one girl finally unseated the other from her mount. She splashed in the waist-deep water then climbed back on her man, piggyback this time, and whispered something in his ear.
The man turned, and suddenly he was in profile. Melina gaped. She hadn’t recognized Richard with his back turned, but now it was painfully obvious that he was enjoying a pool frolic in full view of Pursuit Marketing’s elite.
“That’s Richard Wister,” Lyndley whispered conspiratorially. “He’s a partner in the Indianapolis office. I heard from the designer over there that his wife finally kicked him out for pulling shit like this.”
Melina fought to keep her expression neutral. “He said he was spending more time at the club,” she said, her voice thick as she remembered the lengths they’d gone to in hiding their affair. Now, here he was, in a hotel pool, flaunting it. “I guess what he meant was that he’s been forced to stay at the club.”
Lyndley looked at Melina curiously, guessing her connection. “He still wears his wedding ring, though, so maybe there’s hope for him, right?” She was trying to put a positive spin on something that had clearly darkened Melina’s mood.
“I doubt it,” Melina said. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and Richard is definitely an old dog.”
***
Thudding music reached them as Lyndley, Melina and three other women piled out of the taxi. They queued up behind a velvet rope. A bouncer of sumo wrestling-sized proportions scowled as he checked each ID and then cocked his head to indicate they could go inside.
Although Melina originally planned to catch up on emails and drink the split of white wine from the minibar, spotting Richard changed her perspective. How dare he? she thought, angry as she remembered how he’d forced her out of his life and out of the Indianapolis office to protect their secret affair.
He didn’t care enough about me to leave his wife or take a risk of being discovered, she fumed, but clearly he cared about somebody enough to get caught. He is such an ass.
Then, another thought struck Melina. But maybe he wasn’t caring. He was careless. That’s why he got caught—it’s not that he found somebody to replace me.
Comforted by that theory, Melina hit the bar and the dance floor with vigor, sucking down one tall Vodka Collins after another and gyrating under spinning, disorienting lights.
“What are you drinking?” Lyndley shouted, leaning against the bar as they caught their breath after a song. “Tell me there’s alcohol in that!”
Melina guided Lyndley away from the thundering speakers so she could be heard. “It’s vodka, lemon-lime and soda,” she said, gently rattling the ice in her highball glass. “But the beauty of the drink is the cherry.”
“You like maraschino cherries?” Lyndley made a face. “Gross. All that dye in them; they taste totally fake.”
Melina stuck out her tongue at Lyndley. “It’s not for the cherry. It’s for the stem.”
Lyndley looked lost. “Watch and learn, my dear,” Melina beckoned, drawing Lyndley in her wake as she glided through the crowded club to find two eligible bachelors.
“Hi, there,” Melina approached a man drinking a pale beer. “You wanna help me settle a bet?” She looked at Bachelor Number One shrewdly, sizing him up.
Bachelor Number Two volunteered, “What’s the bet?”
“Well, I’m going to challenge your friend to see who can tie a cherry stem in a knot with their tongue fastest,” Melina said, her mouth articulating each word so that it was clear that this was more than a race. This was a show.
“What do I get if I win?” Bachelor Number One asked, competitive instinct kicking in.
“I’ll buy you guys a drink,” Melina said. “And if I win, you’ll buy us a drink. Agreed?” She plucked the cherry from her glass, bit it off the stem and chewed slowly.
“Game on,” Bachelor Two said. Lyndley’s friends breezed by but didn’t stop, seeing the two-and-two matchup.
“Hang on. I don’t have a cherry stem,” Bachelor One said.
“They do sell them in drinks here,” Melina said pointedly. “May I recommend a Vodka Collins?”
Bachelor One ordered and Two cozied up to Lyndley, intrigued by Melina’s game but clearly more interested in Lyndley’s tight black dress and ample cleavage. Melina was dressed more conservatively; she believed leaving details to the imagination worked in her favor—men always gave her the benefit of the doubt.
Ready for the cha
llenge, Bachelor One held a cherry stem between his thumb and index finger, waiting for the signal to go. Lyndley gave it, and suddenly he and Melina were locked in a series of strange and funny expressions as each wrestled with the cherry stem in their mouths. Soon, Melina plucked a knotted stem from her lips with two slender fingers.
Spitting out his still-unknotted stem, the first man made a show of shaking Melina’s hand. “Nice work on that. I’m Rex, by the way. And this is Matt.”
“I’m Melina. And I’ll have another Vodka Collins, and a Cosmopolitan for Lyndley.” Rex obediently bought the drinks, knowing he’d been had.
He returned balancing four drinks and pushed a beer and a Cosmopolitan across the table to Matt and Lyndley, who pressed against each other. Melina stood a distance from them, scanning the crowd, her expression troubled.
“Don’t look so worried. You won, remember?” Rex asked.
“I know. It’s just—well, my ex just showed up with his new girlfriend,” Melina came clean, surprising herself with the honesty. She gestured to the dance floor where Richard and the pool bimbo ground against each other, her stretchy strapless dress creeping higher on her thighs and lower on her breasts.
“That guy? He could be her dad,” Rex said. “What a loser.”
“You think?” Melina asked, swirling her drink.
“I know,” Rex said confidently. “Look, I have a little sister who is twenty-three, about her age, and there’s one thing I can tell you about a guy his age who wants to date her. He’s not looking for conversation.”
“Yeah, I guessed as much.”
“So that makes him a loser, or at least a user in my book,” Rex said. “Most guys are just thinking: Score! But he probably isn’t an interesting enough person to score with a woman who’s his own age and hot. He can’t get the total package.”
Rex looked at Melina meaningfully, implying that she was both.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“I’m not. I promise. Big brother’s honor,” Rex raised a three-fingered Boy Scout salute. “So, do you want to dance?”
***
Covertly watching Richard from across the club, Melina realized her painful, intense feelings weren’t connected to this man at the club—they were for the man she’d dated long ago. The man who got rid of her.
This new version of Richard was someone else entirely—a sad, soon-to-be-divorced adman who compromised his family for a cheap romp with a pool girl. Or someone like that.
Melina tried to reconcile the fear that she had also been one of those women, someone simple and disposable, mocked or pitied for being gullible, believing the intentions of a much older, richer man.
As she and Rex took a break on the club’s rooftop, ears ringing from the music below, Melina confessed another fear.
“Rex, I have to say, you’ve been really nice to me—more than I deserved,” Melina said.
“It’s no bother,” he said cheerfully. “I mean, after losing that rigged bet, I’m just waiting for my chance to get even.”
“Fair enough,” she smiled. “But I guess I have to say I haven’t exactly been fair to you. First I’m freaking out over my ex and that tramp, next I’m not exactly the best company, I mean, compared to Lyndley.”
Lyndley and Matt were lip-locked in a dark corner on the opposite side of the roof, clearly enjoying their night together.
Rex stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked embarrassed. “Hey, that’s why they call it fishing, not catching, right? I mean, you go fish, and you see what you hook. I guess tonight’s just not my lucky night.”
“No,” she said. “Sorry. I actually have a boyfriend; it’s kind of a new thing and I don’t want to screw it up; you know, act like my ex and go behind his back.”
“I get that,” Rex said. “It’s a lot better than leading him on; making him think you’re something serious when you’re not. I figure, it’s better to be single than in a crap relationship, because at least you’ve got a shot at meeting someone new. If you’re honorable about it.”
Honor. Melina thought about that. She hadn’t broken any rules. She hadn’t dated someone else since she and Joshua made it official. But at the same time, she wondered if she was really being honorable. Like baiting her hook by the pool, or flirting with Rex in this club with the bet.
Melina realized that if Joshua had been spying on her the way she’d spied on Richard most of this evening, he would be unhappy.
Unhappy? Hell, he’d be pissed! He’d be hurt and angry and confused. He’d wonder if I’d been playing him, if I meant it when I told him those things.
She thought about what she’d told Joshua, about her family and how she felt about him. She meant every word.
TWENTY-ONE
Joshua stumbled out of his bedroom to answer the knock on his door, tripping over a scuffed pair of Doc Martens that Crystal left in his path. It seemed like her duffel bag had exploded—bits of her stuff were piled or draped all over his apartment.
It was a disaster.
But the knock signaled a catastrophe.
“I got the early flight,” Melina said, wrapping her arms around Joshua as soon as he’d opened the door. “So I thought I’d—”
She stopped short, taking in the view over his shoulder. “What—what happened in here?” Melina released him quickly and took three steps into the apartment to survey the devastation. “Is someone else … living here?”
Joshua stuttered, unsure how to explain what he avoided telling Melina while she was in Miami. Not that she’d given him much of a chance—each of their conversations had been short, stilted, as if Melina were distracted.
Joshua’s bathroom door swung open and steam billowed out behind Crystal, wrapped only in a towel. Her long brown hair hung in wet hunks but did little to obscure the tattoos across her shoulders.
“Melina, this is Crystal,” Joshua choked. “Crystal, this is Melina.”
“So you do have a girlfriend,” Crystal walked toward Melina, inspecting her, marking her territory in Joshua’s apartment. “I was beginning to think she was just a figment of your imagination.”
“And, I assume, you do have an explanation for this,” Melina said coldly, gesturing toward Crystal and the wreckage in his living room. “Yet somehow you managed not to mention it when we talked every day.”
Crystal batted her eyelashes too innocently. “I guess he was just too busy.” Her Cheshire grin suggested exactly what had Joshua tied up.
“Stop it,” Joshua snarled, surprising both women into silence. “Melina, I’ve told you about Crystal. My ex-girlfriend. Who got evicted. I let her stay here a few days until she could find a permanent place to live.”
“And how’s that going for you?” Melina’s voice was thick with disdain.
“I’m working on it.” Crystal scowled before rooting around in her backpack for fresh clothes. “It’s not easy finding somewhere new.”
“I’m sure you can manage,” Melina purred. “You seem very … resourceful.”
Joshua wondered if he’d have to step in to ward off a catfight. But Melina remained cool, regal even, as if she were above the fray.
“Tell you what, Crystal,” Melina added silkily. “Why don’t you get dressed and take a walk, maybe go visit a friend.” She withdrew her wallet from her handbag and plucked two crisp twenties out of it. “Joshua and I have some catching up to do, and I think we’d like a bit of privacy, if you know what I mean.”
Crystal glared at Melina, then glanced at Joshua in appeal. He dropped his eyes to avoid her gaze, siding with Melina.
“You’ve changed, Joshua,” Crystal accused, grabbing the bills from Melina and slamming Joshua’s bedroom door to change. In minutes, she blew by them, out the door without another word.
***
“That was fun,” Melina said, the ice in her voice thawed now that Crystal was gone. “Nothing says ‘Welcome back, honey, I missed you,’ like a couch-surfing ex.”
“I’m sorry,” Joshua mumbled, “I meant to tell you, I was going to, but you barely had two minutes to talk while you were in Miami.”
Melina accepted the glass of white wine he offered. “You’re getting rid of her. Today. Right?”
“Yes. I promise I will.” Joshua glanced around his disheveled apartment and started picking up Crystal’s things, one by one, shoving them in the duffel bag and backpack while Melina watched.
“You have to know nothing happened.” He searched her eyes for a sign of whether she believed him.
“I know it,” Melina nodded. “Though she definitely wanted something to happen, or for me to think it did. She might as well have been wearing a sign that said, ‘I had sex with your boyfriend!’”
“I saw that. And it’s not OK. But the thing is, she’s like family, sort of. We were together for so long, I can’t just break up with her and pretend she doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Sure you can.”
“No. I can’t. I don’t have many ties with my past as it is. I just wanted to help out an old friend.”
“An old friend who wants to screw you? Or make your girlfriend jealous? Some friend. I’d say moving in here was just step one for her.”
“It’s not like that. I just wanted to help. I had to.”
“Joshua, let me ask you this—have you ever not helped someone? My guess is no. That makes you awesome, but it also makes you a target. If you keep doing it, people will walk all over you. You’ve got to stand up to them, to set boundaries.”
Joshua zipped Crystal’s full duffel and slouched on the couch, still listening.
“I get you wanting to help an old friend. Even an old girlfriend. And don’t worry, it takes someone a lot more sophisticated than Crystal to intimidate me. But charity’s gotta stop at the point where she’s taking advantage of you, or trying to mess with us.”
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