Annihilate Me (Vol. 3) (The Annihilate Me Series)

by Christina Ross

  * * *

  We left Alex’s room and entered the hallway outside where two guards stood just outside the door, a sight that chilled me. We were at New York-Presbyterian on East Sixty-Eighth Street. For ten minutes, I followed Blackwell through busy hallways and corridors, down elevators and across lobbies, and eventually into the basement of the F Building, where the Garden Café was located.

  One of the guards followed us. He was in plain clothes and he was discreet, but his presence nevertheless reminded me of everything I wanted to forget.

  Just focus on Blackwell. Let him do his job.

  The café appeared to have everything. There was a hot carving station, a salad bar, gourmet salads and sandwiches, sushi, and even a world’s fair-themed exhibition station. To my surprise, Blackwell didn’t go to the salad bar. Instead, she went straight to the burger and hot dog counter.

  “What would you like?” the man behind the counter asked.

  She glanced up at the menu and made her decision as decisively as she made all of her decisions. “Double burger with triple cheese, tomato, bacon, avocado, ketchup and mayo. Heavy on the mayo. Don’t skimp—I won’t have it. Just squirt it on until it overflows. And large fries—as in a very large portion. I’ll pay extra if I have to. And make sure they’re hot—I won’t tolerate anything that’s been dying a slow death for the past hour in a bin under one of those dreaded heat lights. I want hot fries cooked in hot grease. And a Diet Coke.” She screwed up her face, seemed to catch herself, and then shook her head. “Forget the last part. Scratch it from your memory. Give me a Coke, and make it large. Not too much ice. Don’t you dare cheat me on the drink.”

  Was she ordering for me? This couldn’t be for her. This was a woman who ate ice for dinner. “Is this for me?” I asked.

  “No, Jennifer. It’s for me. Don’t judge. Today, we indulge at the Garden Café of all places. Would you like the same?”

  I couldn’t conceal my surprise. “This from a woman who demands that I stick to roughage?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “I’ll have all of that minus the avocado.”

  “Minus the what?”

  “Minus the avocado.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “I don’t like avocados.”

  “What the hell isn’t there to like about avocados?”

  I shrugged.

  “Fine. No avocados. What a waste. Do you want a shake to take its place? Vanilla? Chocolate? Stop looking at me like that. This is your golden pass. I’m handing it to you.”

  “I could use a chocolate shake....”

  “I thought so.” She turned to the man. “Same thing for this one, only without the avocado—as wrong as that sounds—and a chocolate shake instead of a Coke. I tip well, even in places like this where no one tips. So, make our meals worth our while, OK?”

  He looked at her with an amused smile. “I can make it worth your while.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s all about the meat,” he said. “It’s always about the meat.”

  “Why does that sound vulgar?”

  His smile widened.

  “Explain.”

  “Here, you can go with lean beef, which is dry and tasteless—something I wouldn’t give my dog. Or you can go with ground turkey, which is an abomination to the burger. Or you can do the right thing.”

  “What’s the right thing?”

  “Really good burgers are filled with fat—as in thirty percent fat. Do you want that kind of fat, ma’am?”

  “It’s ‘Ms.’ to you. And, yes, we both want that kind of fat.”

  “I’ll ladle it on. The hospital will thank me in a few years.”

  Blackwell seemed to appreciate that little exchange and appraised the man with new eyes. “You’re unusual. Why do you work here?”

  “I ask myself that every day. I fell into it.”

  “Then fall out of it. You’re crafty. I can sense it.”

  “That’s what my mother says.”

  “Then she’s intuitive. Do you cook?”

  “I’m the cook here.”

  “So why are you taking orders?”

  “Sheila called in sick.”

  “Who the hell names their child ‘Sheila’? Jesus. Have you gone to culinary school?”

  “Can’t afford it.”

  She reached into her handbag and pulled out her card. “Contact me. The company I work for has a fund that offers full tuition for those who need it. If you are in need—and I have no idea if you are because that’s none of my business—but if you’d like to go to culinary school, contact me at that number. I’ll judge you on your burgers and especially on the fries, and we’ll go from there. Fair enough?”

  “Lady, are you serious?”

  “It’s Ms. Blackwell to you. And I am serious. I’m always serious. People say I’m too serious. They might be right. Whatever.” She nodded at him with a half-smile. “We’ll be seated over there. See that table? The round one? Right there. You’ll serve us?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Have a nice day. What’s your name? I don’t see a name tag.”

  “Charlie.”

  “No respected chef is called ‘Charlie.’”

  “That’s my name.”

  “That was your name. So, Charles, I’ll let you know about the food. Kick it into high gear. Give it your best shot and let’s see what you’ve got. Because this woman—” She tapped her finger against her chest. “This woman doesn’t eat like this except for once a year.”

  “I’ll do my best, Ms. Blackwell.”

  She put a hundred dollar bill on the counter and started to walk away. “I have no doubt about it, Charles.”

  * * *

  “That was interesting,” I said as we took our seats.

  “What was interesting?”

  “If he takes you up on your offer, you might have just changed his life.”

  “So?”

  “It was kind of you.”

  “I’m not a complete bitch, Jennifer. I just come off as one.”

  For the first time in two days, I laughed. “No you’re not. You’re complicated and wonderful and scary and smart and talented and sometimes even touching. I’ve never met anyone like you, but I’m grateful that I have.”

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “That’s just because I freshened up your face and reapplied your lipstick a moment ago.”

  “You know better than that, so let’s be serious. I’m glad that you’re here, in more ways than you know. I’ve come to lean on you and consider you a friend.”

  “No one ever considers me their friend.”

  She studied me for a moment in such a way that I knew she was telling me the truth. Maybe she didn’t have many friends. As long as she’d lived in this city of ice and power, particularly at her level, real friendships might be a challenge to come by. And probably were.

  “Well, I do.”

  “So be it.” She looked at me almost as a mother would. “You were crying when I entered the room. Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Alex is going to be fine.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  She lifted her chin. “So it isn’t. Look, Jennifer, I’m just going to lay it out for you. I’m not going to be easy on you. I’m going to be logical and helpful, but don’t expect anything more than that. My point here today is to get you focused and moving forward.”

  “With what?”

  “With everything. And yes, that includes your relationship with Alex, which I’ve come to embrace. I think you’re right for him. And I protect him more than I protect myself, so please consider that. As I understand the situation—and correct me if I’m wrong—you had no idea that Alex’s life had been threatened until the night of the party. Am I correct?”

  “You are.”

  “And he knew all of this before you went with him on your romantic journey to Maine. Am I correct?”

  “You are.”
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  “And things happened between the two of you in Maine that makes you feel betrayed because he kept silent. You feel that he should have told you what he knew before things... progressed. Am I right?”

  I sighed. What didn’t she know? “You are.”

  “Then we need to talk.”

  “I need to talk with someone.”

  “Haven’t you talked with your friend, Lisa?”

  “Just briefly. We’ll talk more later. But two friends are better than one.”

  She almost blushed at that. She cleared her throat and seemed to collect herself. It was as if the idea that I considered her a friend was unfathomable to her.

  “Anyway, that’s the reason I came by today,” she said. “I saw you yesterday. I’m not sure that you saw me. But yesterday I stuck my head inside to check on Alex. You were so involved in whatever it is you’re going through that you didn’t seem to notice me. So I left. But it was clear to me that you were somewhere else, and I have a feeling that you were in the great land of guilt. You think he’s here because of you, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. On many levels he is here because of me.”

  “Why do you feel that way?”

  “Because I overreacted when I found out that he didn’t tell me about the threat. And then I received a threat of my own. What I created after that led to where he is now.”

  “What you created?”

  “That’s right. What I created.”

  “Tell me who wouldn’t have overreacted in that situation?”

  “Many wouldn’t have.”

  “Name someone. I certainly would have overreacted, if you even want to call it an overreaction, which I’m not sure that it was. That said, I would have been furious with him. In fact, now that I know he’s going to be all right, I am furious with him for not taking that threat more seriously. We’re talking about your life, Jennifer, and we’re talking about his life. He ignored a clear threat. He’s done it before. Hell, he’s done it time and again since his parents died and he took over Wenn.”

  I saw my chance and took it. “How did his parents die?”

  She shot me a curious glance. “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t. I’ve waited for Alex to tell me himself. In Maine, he told me more than he ever has about them and his relationships with them. He told me that they didn’t like each other, but he never told me how they died.”

  “Actually, it went deeper than his mother and father merely not liking each other. They hated each other.”

  The way she said it was biting. She once told me she’d been close to Alex’s mother. For a moment, the mood shifted to a darker place that reached her eyes and colored her expression.

  “They couldn’t have been that old when they passed.”

  “They weren’t.”

  “Did something happen to them?”

  “You haven’t Googled this? It’s not exactly a secret, Jennifer.”

  What isn’t a secret?

  “I thought about Googling it, but I felt like that was prying, so I didn’t.”

  “And you’re not prying now?”

  “I am prying now. I want to know. I need to understand him better. And you’re not behaving like yourself right now for some reason. What happened?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear it from me, or do you want to wait to hear it from Alex?”

  “It’s public information. I had wanted to hear it from him. But right now? What’s the point in waiting any longer?”

  “All right. It was a murder-suicide. Alex’s father shot Constance in the head. Then he turned the gun on himself.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice when I spoke. “You’re not serious....”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  “When was this?”

  “Four years ago. It happened a month before he lost Diana. So, within the course of a month, Alex lost his parents and his wife.”

  I couldn’t help tearing up at the thought of how that must have affected him. “Why did his father do that?”

  “Because he wanted a divorce. Constance refused to give him one. This went on for years—at least twenty. She refused to give him a divorce because she was convinced he’d ruin her socially. And she was right—he would have.”

  “That’s what Alex told me.”

  “Then Alex knew his father. After one particularly ugly, alcohol-fueled fight that lasted long past midnight, that son of a bitch went for his gun and shot Constance in her bedroom. I assume that when he realized what he’d done and the scandal and prison sentence that were upon him, the coward shot himself in the head. End of story for them, but the beginning of a major turning point in Alex’s life.” She shook her head. “Sometimes, I don’t think he cares what happens to himself. Not so much because of what happened to his parents, whose relationship was brutal on him, but because of how Diana’s death affected him. Since then, he’s been absolutely focused on work, but adrift in other ways.”

  “I’ve only told Lisa this, but he wrote me a letter. A love letter is what he called it, and I suppose that’s what it was. He gave it to me that night on the roof deck. In it, he said that he was in love with me. If that’s true, why didn’t he tell me about any this, from his parents to the threat itself?”

  “I have no idea. Not unlike you, Alex has a shield around himself, clearly because of what he’s been through.” She looked at me. “Are you in love with him?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. Maybe.”

  “How can you not know?

  “Because I’ve never been in love before.”

  “Then let me tell you what I’ve seen. I’ve watched you, I’ve watched him, I’ve watched you two together, and what I’ve increasingly seen is a couple falling in love with each other. Alex knows what love is. You may not recognize it as quickly as he because you’ve never experienced it. But the woman I saw in that room a moment ago? The woman who was crying at his bedside? That was a woman in love. That was a woman in private who wasn’t putting on a show for others because her boyfriend happens to be a billionaire and grief was expected of her. That was you alone with Alex, who was asleep and unable to see the state you were in. But when I saw you like that? It said it all to me. You’re in love with him. That’s how love feels, at least in this situation. When it’s good, it’s also everything you’ve ever heard and read about. It can be delirious and wonderful, and it can make you happier than you’ve ever been in your life. But it also can drop you to your knees, which is where you are now. Have you ever hinted at how you might feel about him?”

  “Not verbally. But I have physically.” I took a breath and decided to just come clean with it. “This may sound pathetic at my age, but he took my virginity. There’s no question in my mind that he knows how important that moment was for me, and that after waiting so long, I wasn’t giving it away to just anyone. So, if I’ve said anything truly meaningful to him, it was through that decision.”

  “That’s fine, but sometimes people need to hear the words. Why can’t you tell him how you feel?”

  “That’s a road you don’t want to go down.”

  “Why?”

  I knew Blackwell well enough to know that she wouldn’t let go of this, so I opened up a bit. “My father abused me when I was young. My mother did nothing about it. I was routinely beaten. As a result, I have a mother lode of trust issues.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It is what it is. I certainly can’t change it.”

  “To a point, I’ll agree with that. You can’t change the past, and you certainly can’t forget it. But you’re very much in control of your present and your future, Jennifer. Look at what you’ve accomplished so far. You did that. When we first met, I stupidly tried to get in the way of it, but you worked hard and found a way around even me. That’s no small accomplishment, my dear. Not many succeed.” She cocked her head at me. “Are you and Alex committed to each other?”

 
; “I’ve verbally committed to him. He knows I’m his. But as much as he wants me to say that I’m his girlfriend, I haven’t said that to him yet. For whatever pathetic reason, I can’t say it. Of course I’m his girlfriend. Of course I feel deeply for him. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you. Obviously, you need to feel safe before you say it, and you want to be honest when you say it. I respect that. And it might take time. The reason I asked is because I’m still trying to figure out why Alex didn’t open up to you about the threat. This might be the reason. Maybe he doesn’t feel like you’re a true couple yet. Maybe he thought telling you about the threat would frighten you off. You did leave him once, Jennifer—with justification. He might have thought that telling you about a death threat would have driven you away again.”

  I hadn’t considered that.

  “Have you talked with him yet?” she asked.

  “This morning. Briefly.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He apologized to me. He said he should have taken it more seriously.”

  “That’s positive. He should have.”

  “I don’t want to screw this up, Ms. Blackwell.”

  “I really wish you’d call me Barbara.”

  “I think I’ll always see you as ‘Ms. Blackwell.’”

  “Worse things have happened. Look, Jennifer. To get through this, you’re going to have to come to terms with your past, let go of it, and move forward with your future. That’s the only way out that I can see. What’s the other option?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Then forget your father—to hell with him. Instead, think about your future with Alex and how you feel for him. Come to terms with it, and know that it’s OK to feel a little frightened by it. Love is scary—I get it. I’ve been through it. When it’s right, let him know. But don’t take too long.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Ms. Blackwell.”

  “You may reconsider that in a moment,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  She looked cagy for a minute. Then she said, “There’s a dinner party tonight. That awful Peachy Van Prout is hosting it. Everyone who is anyone will be there. The board met this morning. One of the members called me before I came here. You’ve impressed them. They requested that you take Alex’s place tonight and attend on his behalf because you’re intimate with a deal they want locked down.”