“It’s okay, I expected her,” Max says and comes my way. “That’s why I asked for a delay.” She smiles and invites me to join her team. She looks at the envelope in my hand but isn’t trying to take it away. I send her a silent thank you for trusting that I know what I’m doing.
I open the envelope and make my way around the room to place one paper in front of each person; I’ve two copies leftover. When I’m done I say, “Last night I had the privilege to work with Raven for a photo session. The message you read on this oversized photo is taken from her cell phone.”
Heads bow to study the papers. I watch Lucas’s reaction and, as the message in the photo sinks in his eyes fling to Raven, his mouth opening and closing a few times. He loosens his tie and drops on the leather chair, muttering, “Wha—how’s po—what?”
“This is a lie!” The man on Raven’s left side jumps to his feet and shreds the photo to pieces. I wonder if he is the man who sent her the text. A vein pulses on his temple, his brown eyes shooting angry looks at me. Raven reaches for his arm, trying to pull him down but he shakes it off and points an accusatory finger at me. “How do we know you didn’t fabricate this message? You can’t prove it’s real.”
“Sure I can,” I counter and look directly at her. “Raven, would you be so kind to show us your phone? It’d be hard to reproduce the bedazzled cover, or the rhinestone on the round button.”
She doesn’t react, just blinks fast and clenches her jaw. Pale and with shaking hands she reaches inside her purse, and leaves it there. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a gun in it and fear strangles me. I trust her to have no scruples.
“I don’t have it.” Raven pushes her chin up then whispers something to the man on her right, covering her mouth with one hand. The white in his eyes and in his shirt is such a stark contrast with the rest of him, a black man probably in his early thirties. The way he moves with calculated pace, and frozen features I assume he’s Raven’s lawyer.
There’s a chain reaction to whatever Raven shares with her lawyer. People incline heads and whisper, pushing their chairs and heads together.
But I don’t have time for this. I have a plane to catch. I bring the clip up on my cell phone and play it. Music stops everyone in their whispering and all heads turn to me.
“If my first evidence isn’t enough, here’s more for your entertainment. In this clip, filmed last night, Raven wears a skintight red gown and, unless I’m blind that bulge she has now under her dress is gone. There’s a whole crew who can confirm my words. ”
She places protective hands on her belly as if afraid someone will rip it from her. Which I’m tempted to do, but refrain; I won’t be surprised if her lawyer would use that as an excuse to accuse me of personal injury of some sort.
“You!” She stands to come my way, but two men stop her. Held by them she screams, “How dare you come in here and accuse me of lying?”
“Look, Raven, prove you’re pregnant for real and I’ll retract my accusations. An ultrasound with Mr. Oliver in attendance could shed some light into this matter once and for all.”
The room turns into a mad scene with escalated voices talking at once. I hand Max a thumb drive and say, “The clip is here. Gotta go.”
I glance at Lucas who leans over the desk and yells at Raven. She’s yelling back something about, “You son of a bitch. You’ll pay for this!”
With wobbly legs I leave the room and the chaos behind me. I’m confident Lucas can take care of himself from now on and Max will put an end to the entire mess.
Inside the elevator I press the button to the first floor and lean against the wall. Willing my breath to calm down I can barely take the horrendous migraine. It’s only a matter of time until I throw up.
The doors are halfway closed when an arm pushes through. “Jane, you can’t leave! We need to talk,” Lucas’s voice startles me. The green in his eyes sparkle as his hands pry the doors open.
“I gotta go.” The metal bar behind me feels cold in my hands as my fingers curl around it, and I welcome its support, otherwise I’d tumble to the ground.
“You can’t leave! Where are you going?” Lucas stretches a hand toward me and takes a step inside the elevator. At the same time Max shows up and stops him from coming any closer.
“Talk to her later. I need you back in the room. Now.” As if her words weren’t enough she pulls at his arm.
He shakes Max’s hand away. “I need to talk to Jane. Everyone else can wait.”
At Max’s imploring glance I say, “We’ll talk later. Go now and finish with Raven.”
The elevator makes this beeping sound that scratches my brain and it won’t stop unless Lucas allows the doors to close.
“Where do I find you?” With one stretched arm Lucas holds onto the elevator’s door, the other finds my cheek with a tender and warm touch.
I press my hand on top of his, his cologne and touch alerting all my senses to the very last pore. “I’m leaving for the writers’ conference in Phoenix but I’ll be back on Sunday. Now, go!”
“I’ll wait for you.” Lucas lets go of my cheek, turns to leave but before he is out of the elevator he swings my way and says, “Thank you.”
As I step into the pouring rain I can’t stop from vomiting next to a bush by the entry.
Chapter 29
Emptying my stomach relaxes me somewhat but by the time I arrive at the airport I’m forced to stop first in the restroom to vomit once more.
I talk with Mom and Ella before boarding and swallow more painkillers. If I manage to keep them down, all I need is a good sleep. The flight to Phoenix is all a blur spent mostly dozing off. I stop at one of the stores inside the airport and ask for a warm coke. A heavy salesperson looks at me as if I lost my mind, but I explain it’s good for migraines. The simple task of talking exhausts me. She tells me the only coke she has is in the refrigerator and I buy one along with a bag of pretzels just because I don’t have the energy to check all the stores.
I’d enjoy the sun and the light if my headache wouldn’t throb and my eyes wouldn’t burn from the flickers behind them. A cab takes me to the hotel and I put a happy face on when several authors from last year’s conference including Susan, Monica and Marie greet me in the lobby, also there for the check in.
Everyone seems to talk at the same time and no one to listen in particular. I keep taking small breaths through my mouth, which I found a long time ago keeps my stomach from clenching and ultimately vomiting. More women join us but I don’t recognize them. Discussions evolve around book releases, reviews or rankings. Someone brings up the scandal about Lucas and that’s when I retreat to a nearby sofa, not interested in spreading rumors.
The line at the reception moves slowly and I predict a long wait. I’ve warmed the coke between my hands and under my jacket. It’s still cold but I feel another wave of nausea rising up my throat. I take a sip, then another one. It does wonders as if the fizzes have some magical power over my stomach. Encouraged by the way I feel I eat a few pretzels.
Marie sits next to me, gathering the folds of her forest green skirt in her lap. “Sorry about you and Lucas.” Her red hair has gotten even longer, and is now braided to one side. “Expect everyone to bombard you with questions.”
“I’m aware of it,” I rub and press on my temple, “but they can pester me as long as they want; my private life is mine and mine only. It’s none of their business.”
“How are you holding up, Jane?”
“I’m fine,” I sigh. I’ve said I’m fine, or a variation of it, so much since the breakup it has become my mantra.
“He’s lucky he’s not here today,” she snorts. “I would’ve given him a piece of my mind. I still can’t believe he’s done that, you know?”
“He didn’t, Marie.” Keeping my voice low so no one else would hear us, I tell her about Raven’s lies and how I came upon them.
“Are you serious?” Marie clamps a hand over her mouth, her green eyes almost popping out of her head.
‘What’s going to happen next?”
“I’m assuming he’ll hold a press conference. He’ll be vindicated and return to his life.”
Marie looks sideways at me and pushes her shoulder onto mine. “What about you?”
I know what Marie means. She’s not asking about my health or about how many books I’m going to publish. There’s something in the way Marie looks at me that puts me at ease. It’s a silent and invisible vibe coming from her I can’t explain, but I don’t feel the need to guard myself as I do with other authors, but rather be myself. And I decide on the spot to be honest with her.
“I’m taking one day at the time. I’ve my daughter, my parents, my friends. And I have my books.”
“He broke your heart, Jane. It’s okay to be mad at him,” Marie says.
“He didn’t.” Marie is about to argue but I don’t let her. “He didn’t break my heart. My heart was already broken. Actually he taught me how to live and love again. My husband’s death didn’t mean mine, you know?”
“So you’re not mad at him?”
I think for a moment before I answer. “If I am to be objective, I’m mad at him for allegedly sleeping with Raven, but I’m madder at myself for not trying to find out if he really slept with her before breaking up. He wasn’t sure himself he slept with her, but that was the only logical thing ending with a pregnancy. Maybe I didn’t try to find out the truth because I was too terrified of what I’d actually discover. I’ll never know.”
She scrunches her reddish brows looking at me as if trying to make sense of what I told her. “If he comes to you, would you take him back?”
A small chuckle escapes my lips. “He won’t come back to me. We both made mistakes. We gave up on each other during the first storm. You can’t build a lasting relationship on such a weak foundation, not without trust. At the most we can try to be friends, but I doubt even that would be possible. We’ll probably meet once. He’ll thank me for revealing Raven’s plot and that’s about it; we’ll go our separate ways. Life goes on, doesn’t it?”
A slender brunette joins us. Her voice is really pitchy and I can only take it for about five minutes.
“I gotta check in,” I smile at Marie who stands as well and says, “Me too.”
Later on as we make our way to the third floor of the hotel and drag our luggage toward our rooms, Marie says, “Are you coming to the wine reception? I’ve heard the guy models are even more handsome than the ones last year.”
“No, I’ve a killer migraine and desperately need some sleep.”
Marie giggles, “Fine then, I’ll ogle at them for you too, the models I mean.”
“You go for it.” I stop in front of room 346 and swipe my card. Marie walks to the door next to mine and does the same. Before I push my luggage in I say, “Don’t party too hard, Marie. See you in the morning.”
With a theatrical gesture Marie swings her red braid over her shoulder and says, “I’m gonna try not to make too much noise.” She laughs and winks at me. “Feel better, Jane.”
Over the next ten minutes I talk with Mom and Ella who are getting ready to leave for the park. I warn Mom not to worry if I don’t call later tonight but I plan on skipping dinner all together and sleeping until tomorrow morning. I check my phone one more time before turning it off, hoping Lucas has called.
No missed calls. No texts. Disappointment settles in my stomach, still tender after my bouts of vomit. I can’t stare at the phone too long, the lit up screen causing the pain in my right temple and behind my eyes to intensify.
I imagine Lucas is busy. Busy with spreading the word of his innocence to his family, friends and media. Busy answering questions, signing documents acquitting him of all accusations. Busy resuming his life, a life I’m no longer part of the way I used to be, the way I wished and dreamt about.
Pulling the covers over my aching body, I close my eyes, picturing Lucas one more time as I last saw him this morning: tall and handsome in his black suit; shocked and failing miserably at hiding his distress and anger; anxious yet hopeful.
“I still love Lucas,” I whisper to myself before darkness voids my brain.
I’ve no idea how long I’ve slept, but muffled music wakes me up. The electronic clock on my nightstand shows 10:03 P.M., which means the wine reception ended half an hour ago. It doesn’t make sense why the music is so close to my walls, unless Marie went wild and brought people to her room to continue the party.
I wait for a while, hoping with each song ending that that will be the last. My migraine is by far more bearable now; no more nausea, just the pain without the flickers behind my eyes. When the music doesn’t end I pull a pillow over my ear. Memories of last year’s conference pop in my head like salmon jumping up a waterfall. It’s almost comical how history repeats itself, except Lucas isn’t here to party with his friends. Marie makes for a really lousy neighbor.
I get up and finish the bag of pretzels. I’m still hungry but too afraid of throwing up so I decide against calling room service. Music continues even after I take a shower and brush my teeth. It’s so loud I hear it over the hair dryer.
Trading the bathrobe for jeans and a t-shirt, I stomp to the room next door.
“For the love of God, Marie, not you too!”
The music is louder in the hallway and I’m surprised no one close by is out here demanding silence. It’s so loud my knocks on the door remain unanswered. What’s up with this conference and its attendees? Is everyone a party monster? I’ll never understand how some people can be this rude. I love Marie, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back the anger she’s causing me with all the noise.
As soon as the song ends I knock again. I’m determined to knock even if my knuckles will bleed at the end, if this is what it takes to get her to open the door.
Chapter 30
“What took you so long?” Lucas says, impatience in his voice.
“Excuse me?”
“I bribed an entire floor not to call the front desk because of the music. I was losing hope you’d ever wake up.”
The shock of seeing him standing right there in front of me is so strong I’m pretty sure my eyes doubled in size. “Wha—hold on; this is Marie’s room.”
“Not anymore. I bribed her too. We switched rooms. I needed this room.”
“Why?”
“To talk to you.”
“You could’ve called or waited until tomorrow morning. What’s so pressing?”
Lucas pushes both hands in his pockets. “The truth.”
“I thought we know the truth . . . is this your way of getting my attention by blasting music and waking up an entire hotel?”
“It worked last year, didn’t it? Besides I did knock on your door but you didn’t answer. So . . . I needed a distraction.”
Either my brain struggles to understand what’s going on or Lucas likes riddles but whatever it is, he confuses me into frustration. I sigh, “What are you doing here?”
“Starting over.” He offers that dashing smile of his that has me under its spell, keeping me prisoner without a chance of escaping. He takes a step sideways and motions me to enter.
I hesitate. “Starting over what? When did you—” I can’t believe my eyes. With Lucas out of my view all I see is white lilies everywhere: on the coffee table, on the floor, on the bed, vases of all sizes and colors. I walk in the middle of the room, the strong smell convincing me I’m not dreaming. “What did you do, break into a flower shop?”
He closes the door and comes to face me. “Not really, but I guarantee there are no white lilies left in town. I bought them all.”
I glance one more time around the room. Lilies are my favorite flowers, but they also smell super-sweet and spicy and, with my migraine not completely gone nausea creeps up my throat again. Blood drains from my head, leaving me lightheaded.
“Too smelly?” Lucas doesn’t wait for my answer. Dodging vases he opens the double doors to the balcony and pushes aside the golden brocade curtains. “B
etter now?”
“Mm hmm, thank you.” I inhale a big gulp of air but nausea threatens to choke me. My stomach clenches, which to me is the warning sign before throwing up. I dash for the bathroom and don’t stop until I lose the meager dinner of nothing but pretzels I had half an hour ago.
It takes me a while to gather myself, my knees weak from all the effort. I splash my face with cold water and even brush my teeth with my finger using the travel size toothpaste by the sink. There’s also a small bottle of mouthwash, which I use entirely. I’m sure Lucas wouldn’t mind.
Questions don’t give my poor brain one moment of relief and the only way to get answers is to face him. It’s obvious he came for me but what is this truth that he talks about? I don’t dare hope he wants to start over.
When I come out of the bathroom Lucas removes the last vases from the room and out to the balcony “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sick. Are you okay?” When he’s done he shuts the doors closed and cranks up the AC.
“I’ve a migraine. I was better but the smell . . . sorry, I appreciate the gesture.”
Lucas stops in front of me. With one hand he rubs my left shoulder with the other he touches my hair. “The blond looks good on you.”
“I had it cut,” I don’t know why I say that since he can see it for himself.
“I really like it. You look beautiful.”
I laugh. “I just puked in your toilette. I bet I look anything but beautiful but thanks for trying.”
“Between you and my brother, I can’t take you anywhere. You guys have a thing for hugging toilettes.”
I’m pretty sure he refers to last year’s incident when Cameron drank until he passed out only he didn’t make it to the bathroom.
“Be nice. I might write you in my novel as the villain.”
“I don’t want to be the villain.” Lucas plants both feet apart, takes my head between his warm palms and kisses the corner of my mouth. “I want to be the hero.”
Me Tarzan, You Jane Page 24
