Lovin' Blue
Page 23
“Wild bears couldn’t keep me away from this place, Alex. You know that.” Eden continued working, scanning over various memos and other items in her inbox.
“That I do. The health fair was a rousing success, thanks in large part to your participation and organizational skills.”
“You’re too kind, doctor. Christina had everything under control by the time I came on board. I simply helped execute.”
“And you did so brilliantly.”
“Thank you.”
“How’s Jansen?”
Eden looked up from the paper she held and, seeing only sincerity in Alex’s face, answered. “He’s good.”
“I really like your mom.”
Eden smiled, remembering a point in the afternoon when she’d seen her mother conversing with the doctor, her flirty demeanor more fitted to someone sixteen instead of nearing sixty. Thankfully, her mother had waxed poetic about Alex only during their phone conversation, and not when Jansen had been anywhere around. “You impressed her, that’s for sure. She thought you were the handsomest thing on the block—raved about your eye color and wanted to know if they were contacts.”
“Ha! One look at my mother’s eyes, and she’d have her answer.” Alex stood. “How about some lunch? I called RFD and got the specials for the week—BBQ Bello and Buddha’s Belly.”
Eden groaned. “I am so there! Just give me about ten minutes to organize my desk, and then I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Lunch was lovely. Alex was more laid-back than Eden had ever seen him, and she wondered how she’d missed his cutting sense of humor. As they tasted each other’s dishes—the chilled, marinated portobello with mango, avocado, and other vegetables topped with spicy ranch dressing, and the Thai-inspired noodle dish that made up Buddha’s Belly—Alex plied Eden with stories of his antics as a seventeen-year-old college student, and passing the medical board at an unprecedented twenty-seven years old.
“You could say I was driven,” Alex concluded as the waiter brought over helpings of gluten-free chocolate cake and apple-fig crisp. “But after fifteen years I began to get bored, wanted to expand my concept of healing. That’s when I went to India and trained for three years under a brilliant doctor and surgeon named Thadmi Kaur. I also spent time in China, Tibet, and Africa.”
“Africa?” Eden’s surprise was evident.
Alex nodded. “Sat at the knee of village doctors and wise old women who’d never gone to school, much less college, but could cure anything that ailed you and dress a wound better than any I’ve seen. One of the more fascinating concepts I heard was the use of okra to bring about less painful childbirth.”
“Okra?” Eden’s forkful of chocolate cake stopped in midair. “I’m all ears.”
“They believe that ingesting large amounts of okra during pregnancy helps line the vaginal cavity with a slippery substance, aiding the child in its passage through the chamber. I watched a woman give birth, and I swear she simply squatted down, grunted, and out came a baby!”
“Ha!” Eden’s guffaw caused other patrons to look around and smile. Soon Alex joined in the merriment, and the more they laughed, the funnier the story seemed, until they were holding their stomachs and wiping their eyes.
Eden sat back from the table and placed her napkin in her plate. “Alex Kostopoulos, you are one of a kind.”
“That I am, Eden Anderson . . . that I am.” Alex picked up his water and winked at her over the glass.
I’m a lucky woman, Eden thought. And so is Christina.
The afternoon flew by, and soon Eden was on her way home. As soon as she reached the condo and changed clothes, she returned the missed call from Jansen.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, weed. You coming over?”
“Jansen! We discussed this. I’m staying at my house, and you’re staying there. I’m worn to a frazzle, you insatiable beast. And as much as I’ll miss you, I’m looking forward to a hot soak in the tub, bed by nine, and at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.”
“Sounds boring,” Jansen replied, a pout evident in his voice.
Eden chuckled. “You’ll live.”
They chatted a moment longer, and then Eden retrieved her laptop and sat perched against her bed’s headboard. She’d decided to check her personal e-mails while the tub slowly filled. There were a ton of Facebook messages. Many were from her holistic friends—suggestions to like this and invitations to that. She bypassed them for a more thorough inspection later and scanned her inbox for personal messages.
“Renee!” Eden exclaimed when she saw the name Renee Newton in her inbox. She hurriedly clicked the e-mail and read the note that contained Renee’s number and a request to call ASAP. Eden went to the bathroom, turned off the water, and retrieved her phone to dial her friend.
54
“Renee Newton!”
“Eden Anderson!”
Eden turned out the lamp next to her bed and crawled beneath the covers. She hadn’t talked to Renee in months, and even though she’d reached her goal of lights out and in bed by nine, she knew that actually going to sleep might be a while. “How are you? DC? Life? Oh, my gosh, girl, we’ve got so much to talk about!”
Renee chuckled. “Eden, it is so good to hear your voice. Where do I begin?”
“Most people would say at the beginning, but, heck, I say plunge right into the middle and spread out from there!”
“Ha! That sounds like a plan. Wait, hold on, let me grab my hot chocolate.” There was a rustling sound as Renee pulled her large mug closer to where she was huddled under a throw to ward off October’s east-coast chill. “Okay, first off, are you sitting down?”
“Lying down, to be exact. And just to show you how much you rate, I put my place off limits to my boyfriend so I could get to sleep early, and here I am talking to you.”
“I’ll make it worth your while, Eden. There was a pregnant pause before Renee added, “I’m engaged!”
Eden squealed, sitting straight up as she did so. “Shut up!”
“Is this news enough for you?”
“Stop it!”
“Hmph, it’s a little too late for that, thank God. My June wedding will be in the Bahamas, so update your passport, and if you’re slacking, start exercising. I want all my bridesmaids to look fabulous!”
“Oh. My. God, Renee! You could have told me anything but this.” Renee Newton was that friend who put the P in picky and whose long list of “must haves” put the P in perfect. Among the absolute deal breakers were if a man did not have an MBA, made less than six figures, was under six feet tall, had a criminal record of any kind, rented instead of owned, or had a less than seven hundred credit rating. Her husband—she’d insisted many times—would have all these attributes plus a few more, just to surprise her. “I am so happy for you, girl. Okay, details, tell me everything!”
“For starters, his name is Lance Whorton; he’s from New Orleans, Louisiana; and I met him when he was here on business.”
“A Southern man, huh? I’ve heard they grow ’em good down there.”
“You heard correctly!”
“So, what does he do?” How much does he make? How many degrees and from what Ivy League school?
For the first time since saying hello, there was a brief pause in the conversation. “He’s, uh, into physical fitness.”
“Sounds like a perfect fit for someone who likes to work out herself four to five times a week. So are you saying he owns a training center of some sort, maybe for professional athletes?”
“Not exactly.”
No matter how grand, unless it was a Bally or 24 Hour Fitness chain, Eden couldn’t imagine him making enough money to give Renee the type of life she demanded. “Okay, girl, I know a stall when I hear one. Break it down for me.”
Renee sighed. “Okay, but I’ve already heard enough ‘I told you so’s,’ so spare me.”
“Okaaaaay,” Eden answered, drawing out the word.
“He’s a personal trainer.”
“Trust and believe, he’s no Bob Greene. He didn’t graduate from college, rents an apartment in a modest neighborhood, and lived at a Louisiana correctional facility for four years—from seventeen to twenty-one.”
Eden was stunned into paralysis. She held the phone away from her head, stared at the picture of Renee she’d programmed into it, and wondered who this was on the line with her good friend’s voice and manner but incredulous conversation!
“You’re shocked. I know. It’s not what I planned.”
Eden finally recovered her voice. “That’s putting it mildly.” A moment of silence passed, and then, “How tall is he?”
Pause. “Six-foot four, two-twenty. Solid muscle, massive strength. Think LL Cool J with even more swagger. Yet the kindest, most thoughtful human being you’d ever want to meet.”
At least you checked one item off your list, Eden thought. “Wow,” she said.
“He was in DC accompanying a client on an extended stay. I met him at the gym.”
“You’ve gone to that gym for years, seen tons of fine men. What was it about . . .”
“Lance.”
“Yes, what was it about Lance that was different?”
“Everything. It’s hard to explain, but there was this presence about him that went beyond physical, though that, too, was pretty awesome. But he was focused and methodical; he wasn’t checking out every woman who walked by—just took care of business and left. The third time I saw him there, I went up and introduced myself.”
Eden had forgotten Renee’s rule about the man having to make the first move. “You stepped to him?”
Renee laughed. “I know. All I can say is God has a wicked sense of humor. Lance is almost everything I said I’d never settle for. But now that I’m in the situation, I realize it’s all about perspective. In throwing out that crazy list of expectations, I’ve found a man who exceeds my wildest dreams of happiness, who makes me feel whole and complete, protected and loved.”
Eden laid back down. “I know what you mean.”
“He makes me . . . What—you do?”
“Yes.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like it’s time for somebody else to spill some beans.”
The smile came through in Eden’s voice. “Well, for starters his name is Jansen McKnight. He’s my brother’s best friend who I’ve known most of my life. He moved back to LA almost four years ago after his divorce.” Eden paused and waited for Renee’s response. There was none. “Renee?”
“Uh, I’m here, Eden. What did you say his name was?
“Jansen McKnight.”
“And you say he moved back to California?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“Chicago. Renee, why all of these questions?”
Pause. Major pause. Five seconds, ten, thirty . . .
“Renee, you’re starting to worry me. What’s going on?”
“Is he a police officer?” Renee’s voice, which moments ago had been jubilant and animated, was now low and dull.
“Yes,” Eden responded, her heart beating faster, Jansen was a consummate ladies man. Is it possible that he and Renee dated? That they . . .
Renee interrupted Eden’s uncomfortable thoughts.
“Around thirty-eight, thirty-nine years old?”
“Yes. Renee, do you know Jansen?”
“I’ve never met him, but I know of him.”
“How?”
“Jansen McKnight is the cop who killed my brother.”
55
Five minutes had passed since Eden hung up the phone, and still she didn’t move. She simply sat there, staring into space, replaying the last part of her good friend and former colleague’s conversation in her head.
“Jansen McKnight is the cop who killed my brother.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d bet my engagement ring on it. There were five officers placed on administrative leave following . . . Steven’s murder. Jansen McKnight was one of the names listed. I remember all their names.”
“But if five men were suspended, how do you know Jansen was the . . . reason your brother died?”
“If five men fired five guns, does it matter which bullet pierced Steven’s heart?”
Eden sat the phone on the bed and placed her head in her hands. Her mind reeled, unable to process what she’d been told. Scenes from her whirlwind romance with Jansen played in her mind like a slideshow: their first real kiss in Michael’s guest bathroom, the subsequent first date and unforgettable night. Intimate dinners, unforgettable nights, walks by the beach, unforgettable mornings, watching old movies, reminiscing, and unforgettable afternoons.
Then a different set of scenes began to play: her place and seeing Jansen’s gun before he deftly tried to hide it under his clothes. His place and the gun on his bedroom dresser, and in the office, and a drawer in the kitchen, and in the well-stocked cabinet. Michael’s house and the weapon that was never far from him. And the most distressing scene of all—at Michael’s. Big man. In deep shadow. With a gun pointed at her chest.
Eden shuddered as she swallowed a gasp. “Jansen,” she whispered, her hands going to her mouth, tears forming at the tips of her eyes. “Oh, baby, what have you done?”
The cell phone rang. Eden looked at the caller ID. Jansen, just as she’d figured. Now the tears fell, one by one, a stream of sadness down her face, pooling into a glob of abject despair. She silently implored, Why this? And why now? Now, when everything seemed perfect, and she’d decided to “allow,” per Ariel’s suggestion, and coexist peacefully with Jansen, his weapons, and his career choice. Now, when Jansen had opened more fully to her world, often joining in her yoga sessions and eating less meat. Thoughts of the coming weekend entered the equation. One of the biggest hurdles yet was about to be jumped as Jansen had agreed to join Alex and Christina on his boat. Both of their families knew and approved of the union. “It was perfect!” Eden ground out between gritted teeth. “Almost too good to be true,” she whispered. She threw one pillow against the wall, and then another, and then all of the half a dozen that dotted her bed. Too keyed up to sleep, she paced and cried, and not wanting to risk even seeing his name right now, turned off her cell phone.
Jansen laid back, idling rubbing his manhood while waiting for Eden to pick up the phone. When the call went to voice mail, Jansen looked at the clock: 9:48. He waited for the beep and then left a message. “Hey, sleeping beauty. I see you got your wish and are probably already in dreamland. Enjoy it, baby, because this weekend I’m going to make it up to you. Check this, I traded Saturdays with a guy who needs next Sunday off. So he’s going to work my Saturday this week, and I’ll work his Sunday. That means we can hang out a little later on Friday, you know, at this kumbaya meeting at your boy’s house. Only for you, little garden, would I go through these changes. Any other time, that brothah would have become well acquainted with my fist . . . a few times. Guess you’re making me a better man. I miss you, baby. I want you with me all the time. I love you more than anything. Call me.”
56
“Eden, it’s him. Again.” Ariel’s voice was compassionate yet firm. “I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . don’t you think you should take his call?”
“Still in a meeting, Ariel,” Eden curtly replied into the phone intercom. “For the rest of the morning I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone.”
Eden tried to refocus on the report in front of her but soon dropped it on the desk, stood, and walked to the window. This October morning was cool and overcast, with California’s habitual “sunny and seventy” having gone the way of her idyllic romance. She’d done nothing but think about what Renee had said and knew no more of what to make of it this morning than last night. Sleep had not come easy. She’d managed just a couple hours, giving
in to slumber amid a lone bird’s dawn lullaby. The shrill of the alarm had awakened her, and for a few glorious seconds she was free of thought and memory—it was just another day. Then she’d stretched and remembered. After showering and dressing, she’d turned on her phone, noting missed calls from her mother and more from Jansen. She had also seen that there were messages. She hadn’t yet the strength to listen to them.
Eden returned to her desk, determined to work. An inner-office instant message popped up on her computer. Alex. Ariel says you are not to be disturbed. Is everything okay?
Eden’s hand hovered over the keyboard as she formulated an answer. Busy, focusing. What do you need?
It can wait. Lunch?
Just the thought of food caused Eden’s stomach to flip-flop. Thanks, but no. I’ll order in.
Somehow Eden managed to get through the morning, actually return a few phone calls, answer some e-mails, and respond to the report she’d been sent. When Christina phoned, Eden was glad Ariel had ignored her mandate and put the call through. She accepted the invitation for lunch, and for a little over an hour she was able to take her mind off the Jansen/murder madness. She and Christina discussed the health fair, its successes and failures, and began setting up the foundation for an even bigger one next year. The miso soup had been comforting and healing, and Christina’s effervescent personality had been beneficial as well. When she walked back into the center and saw Ariel sitting at the front desk, she actually smiled. The upturn was short-lived.
“Jansen called.”
“How many times?”
“I’ve lost count. But the last one was five minutes ago. He said if he didn’t hear from you within the hour, he was coming down. It sounded like he meant it.” Ariel’s eyes bore into Eden. They were full of questions and compassion. “It’s not my business—”
“No, it isn’t—”