by Kat T. Masen
“What I’m saying is that sometimes you don’t get a choice in where life takes you. Take, for example, Adriana. She never expected to lose her husband and at such a young age. Then add to that grief, trying to raise a baby.”
Mom gives me a lot to think about. Always the realist, whereas Dad is the opposite. He creates the life he wants and doesn’t feed into the whole ‘life is where it takes you.’
“I know what you think because you and your father are so alike.” Mom breaks my thoughts, bringing the attention back onto her words. “Ava, you’ve been fortunate so far, and that’s not to say it won’t continue that way. But right now, you’re hitting some unfortunate bumps. You will get through this even if it feels like you can’t.”
“I know, Mom.” I take a deep breath, hop out of bed, straight to my closet, and pick an outfit for today. The spring weather is warm, warranting a sleeveless dress with a mini-jacket for when the cooler air sets in later in the day. “Listen, I should go. My publicist is driving me crazy, and I’m already late to his meeting.”
“How is your new publicist going?” Mom teases.
“Eric is a blessing and a curse. Professionally, he’s excellent. But, personally, he is driving me insane. If I could show you the photo dump of women with bangs he disapproves of in my phone, you’d be shocked.”
“Hmm, not really. You’d be surprised at what he continues to send me, given I am married. You would think I don’t need pictures of sweaty men at the gym. Half these men are young enough to be my son.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s our Eric.”
“Eric, no,” I argue while sitting in the white leather chair across from him. “I don’t need some guy on my arm if you think I must attend this event tonight.”
“Honey cakes, your beaver is looking sad and depressed. Everyone knows the best way to attract a man is by having another man on your arm.”
“Firstly, my beaver is fine. And who even uses that term anymore? That’s something an old person would say.”
“Excuse me. I don’t look a day over thirty-five.”
“Botox has been kind to you,” I drag, then fake a smile. “And to my second point, I will attend alone if I must go.”
Eric lets out an annoyed huff, pursing his lips while eyeing me dubiously.
“Will you do all of us a favor and call off the I-don’t-need-a man act? You’re screaming for a good bang-bang up your coochie. Maybe even the back door. That’s if you’re even adventurous enough to taste a bit of chocolate over vanilla.”
Wrinkling my nose, I keep my lips firmly shut, disgusted he used the words back door and chocolate in the same sentence. But as always, Eric has got me thinking. Okay, so I haven’t gotten laid recently and only because it hasn’t even crossed my mind. The last time I was intimate with a man was New Year’s Eve, a secret I still carry to this day. On occasion, to clear my conscience, I think about telling Eric but know I must take that one to the grave. I can’t afford a leak to Amelia.
“Both doors are just fine,” I rush, steering the conversation back to what we were initially discussing. “Now, about tonight, dress code?”
Just before Eric speaks, my phone vibrates in my hand as my father’s caller ID appears. I excuse myself to take the call, moving toward the window.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Ava,” he simply greets, his tone void of any emotion. “Returning your numerous calls.”
“Look, I know you’re angry at me. I’m angry at myself for trusting Olivier. And I just want to say I appreciate you stepping in. I know you threw a lot of money to have those photos removed…” I trail off, aware of the silence coming from his end.
“I have a meeting I need to get to.”
“Uh… sure,” I mumble, unable to shake the guilt riddling me. “Dad, I love you.”
A long, low sigh filters through the speaker. “I love you too, Ava. I’ll call you tonight.”
We hang up the phone, but even after his sentiment, it doesn’t erase the pain and suffering I’ve put him through. I try my best to suppress the thoughts, yet the more I try, the more my stomach churns from the stress of it all. Dad never asks for much from me, but I know this is something he won’t quickly move on from.
“No luck with Lex?”
I turn to face Eric, shrugging my shoulders. “I guess he needs to cool down.”
“Of course he needs time to cool down.” Eric throws his hands up in the air, all dramatic as usual. “We are talking about THE great Lex Edwards. Once, when you were like three and in some playground, a boy pushed you over, and Lex got into a fight with the mother. The poor woman left in tears.”
“Oh… how horrible.”
“Look, in Lex’s defense, the woman was too busy trying to flirt with another dad who clearly had a wedding ring on. But listen, don’t get hung up on him. We have a fabulous event to attend tonight, and you’re hot property.”
“Right,” I mutter, no longer in a forgiving mood. The last thing I feel like doing is being social. “Do I have to go? I’m not paid for this, just pulling in a favor for you.”
Eric tilts his head, appearing rather offended by my comment.
“I’ll call in that favor since I’ve been working hard to get your titties removed off every site possible!” He raises his voice, then straightens his shoulders. “Okay, rant over.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever. I’ll see you tonight.”
Eric waves his hand, dressed head-to-toe in a white suit with a blush pink-colored silk shirt beneath it. Under the lights, he literally stands out like a pink elephant in the room.
“Ava, darling! You made it and gorgeous as usual.” Eric kisses both my cheeks before grabbing my hands. “How amazing is this place?”
My eyes scan the area, admiring the leafy atmosphere under the night sky. The outdoor space is designed well, geared at entertaining with tables and chairs positioned to cater to larger groups. The décor itself is quite modest, but the bar is the showcase of the entire rooftop. The long countertop is lit from beneath in neon lights, as are the shelves housing glass bottles of every liquor you can think of. The bartenders are all cute, perhaps young, but still attractive in their uniforms.
And then, there’s the masterpiece on the wall, a signature of the bar’s name—Luna. I raise my phone, take a photo, and send it to my cousin Luna, only to remember she’s in South America with her parents and most likely doesn’t have the best phone reception.
“It’s a pretty nice place,” I say while still admiring the surroundings. “I mean, how can you go wrong with a rooftop bar?”
“Exactly,” Eric echoes my thoughts. “It is Manhattan, after all.”
Eric’s expression soon falters when his gaze falls upon a man across the room laughing. “Great, look who’s here.”
Turning in the opposite direction, I note the man in a flamboyant lavender suit, laughing way too hard to the point it comes across as so fake. “That guy?”
“Yes, it’s only George Maurice. Look at him, acting like a starving whore.”
“And he is?”
“My competition, darling. The Ava to the Amelia.”
I touch the base of my neck, then tilt my head to the side while pursuing my lips.
“Um, excuse me? I’m not in competition with my sister,” I question Eric with annoyance.
“Oh, right,” Eric mumbles, uninterested, then coughs. “I must have my wires crossed with someone else.”
Slowly, my skin tingles as the temperature rises. I watch him furtively, wondering whether he knows about my night with Austin. Of course, I haven’t told a soul, and I highly doubt Austin would broadcast it to anyone either. But then, we are talking about Eric Kennedy. He can read people’s minds like a gifted vampire, only dressed in designer clothes with perfectly shaped brows.
“You know what?” I huff, annoyed at his comment. “I’m going to get a drink.”
I walk toward the bar and call out for a drink, not in the mood for the champagne being
served. An uneasy feeling washes over me, leaving my stomach unsettled. I narrow it down to not having eaten since the morning after trying these new diet pills a company is pushing me to promote. It’s been two days, and if anything, I’ve been feeling less like my usual self.
The bar staff is busy but stop quickly to take my order of a martini. Suddenly, a scent lingers in the air, intoxicating with its masculinity, or maybe I’ve been single for too long.
“Josh,” a man calls beside me, the tone unforgiving and more of a demand. “Get the girls to move faster.”
The Australian accent is the focal point of my attention, standing out amongst locals attending this launch party. I try to get a better glimpse with one eye of the man beside me, but all I can catch is the frustrated stare of the tall stature. Slowly, I revert my eyes to the glass served in front of me, then take a sip without seeming too obvious I tried to check him out.
“Is the champagne not good enough for you?”
“Excuse me?” I glance sideways, then lift my head to stare into the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His comment comes across as rude and arrogant, not matching the handsome face watching me while waiting for an answer. “I felt like a martini. Is there something wrong with that?”
“Of course not. You are Ava Edwards, are you not?”
Annoyed by his dismissive glance when mouthing my name, I take it he has a problem with me, and after this week, I have no issue starting a fight. So what’s the worst that can happen, anyway? Everyone thinks they know me, and I’m sick of people assuming they know it all.
“And you are?”
“Lochie Fletcher, the owner of this fine establishment.”
“This is your bar?” My eyes widen as I scan the space again. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Considering we’ve been conversing for less than a minute, at what point did you want me to throw that in?”
“Well, Lochie… ” I bow my head with a smile, shaking off my earlier annoyance, “… you got me there. So, how did you know my name?”
He rubs his beard, though it’s neat and well-groomed, accentuating his sharp jawline.
“I was told of the guest list, and you were marked as a VIP.”
“That’s my publicist, over there. The one with the resting bitch face. Chances are, he marked the both of us as VIPs.”
“Let me guess, Eric Kennedy?”
I nod. “Pain in my ass but worth every cent.”
A man joins us, insisting Lochie is introduced to some important people. He excuses himself politely, following the man until an older crowd focuses their attention on him. His smile is flawless as he talks, lighting up his entire face, followed by a hearty laugh.
A few times, I catch him in a stolen glance until a woman wraps her hands around his waist. My ribs grow tight, restricting my breathing, torn between admiring how beautiful she is to my disappointment over the whole situation.
“What’s with the resting bitch face?” Eric asks, returning with a glass of champagne in his hand.
“Same could be said about you.”
“George was flaunting his new client list, and frankly, he can go to hell.”
“My my, Eric, jealousy looks ugly on you.”
“Whatever.” He huffs while adjusting his cuffs to then lift his chin. “There are a few people I want you to meet, including a very handsome heir who happens to own a yacht club in Montauk.”
“Eric, I’m not interested in meeting anyone to hook up with,” I tell him, discouraged by my previous attempt with Lochie.
“Honey, you know what they say about a big boat?”
I raise my brows. “Enlighten me, Eric?”
“Strong stern.”
“What?”
“Back end…”
“I’m waiting for you to connect this to a dick somehow?”
“I was getting there. You just threw me off. But since you asked…”
“No.” I hold my hand up. “I’ve sworn off men. I don’t need to talk about dick, think about dick, let alone get involved with a dick. This year will be dedicated to me.”
Eric stares at me blankly, uninterested in my response. Then, blatantly ignoring me, he links his arm into mine and showcases me around the rooftop like some King Charles Cavalier at a prestigious dog show.
I meet the boat guy, who’s full of himself it pains me to even entertain his advances. At what point he thought his bright white veneers would be a turn-on is beyond me. Even Eric stares rudely until I nudge him to snap out of it.
The night wears on, which includes a speech from Lochie thanking everyone for coming. The guests applaud, followed by a live band. I let out a yawn, noting it’s still early for me.
“Listen, Eric,” I begin with, trying to suppress another yawn on the brink of escaping. “I’m tired. Do you mind if I go?”
“A beauty must get her beauty sleep.”
“Funny that. You didn’t say that two weeks ago when you made me stay at that gay club until four in the morning.”
Eric lets out a loose laugh. “Sweetie, never underestimate how selfish I can be when naked men are dancing near me.”
Kissing both his cheeks, I remind him about my photoshoot at The Plaza tomorrow. As I walk toward the exit, I stop at the elevator, press the button, and check my phone while waiting.
“Leaving already?”
I lift my head, pursing my lips only to half-smile. “Yes, I am. Congratulations again on your opening.”
“So, that’s it?” Lochie juts his chin, raising his brows with a smug glance. “You’re just leaving?”
“It’s late, and I’m tired… ” I admit, then continue, “… besides, I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate you spending time with other women.”
“Girlfriend?” he questions, followed by a laugh. “I think you mean my sister if you’re wondering who that woman was with her arms around me.”
“Oh,” I mouth, annoyed I even mentioned it.
Lochie moves in closer and motions for me to hand him my phone. I’m not sure why I pass it over to a complete stranger, watching him text something quickly. But, instead, he hands it back over with a mischievous grin.
“It was nice meeting you, Ava.”
He grazes his finger down my arm, causing me to break out in goosebumps. With a deep gaze, his eyes drink me in, leaving me breathless. Slowly, he pulls away and walks back to the party.
Releasing the breath I’m holding in, I am taken aback by the sheer force of his touch. Maybe I am wrong, being single is a stupid idea. Why should I deprive myself of a sexy man?
And then, the elevator doors ping open. I enter, still flustered from his touch, then remember he wrote something in my phone. Quickly, I scroll to my messages, where he sent a text message to a number that I assume is his.
You’re gorgeous, Ava. Stunning, actually. Call me sometime…I promise I don’t bite.
Unless, of course, you want me to.
Lochie
The corners of my mouth turn up as I reread his text. My fingers type profusely, but then I erase my response, trying to keep it simple and not come across like some needy chick.
Me: Cocky Aussie, but you do have a way with words. I’ll call you tomorrow xx
And with a rush of excitement, something I haven’t felt in a while, I exit the elevator and leave the building to hail a cab.
Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
Six
Ava
My phone lays on the plush white carpeted floor while I sit cross-legged in my closet, listening to my sister ramble on about work. It’s not unusual for me to be on the receiving end of these conversations since we speak almost every day.
“I mean, these men are pigs,” Amelia proclaims, her tone heightened with frustration. “You cheat on your wife for someone half your age and then demand your kids call her mom?”
“Men are pigs,” I concur, struggling to move from the spot I find myself in. “But this is your job, right? You’ve got t
o fight for justice.”
“Geez, Ava. I’m not wonder woman.”
“You do have that costume, though.” I chuckle while eyeing a pair of hot pink pumps in my closet, which Olivier once said made me look like a drag queen. Clearly, he’d been around them enough to know. I pull them off the shelf with the intent to wear them sometime this week. “I’m sure your husband enjoys the role-playing.”
“Will is away for work. It’s been two days. Meanwhile, I’m like some horny teenage boy. You know that part of your cycle when all you can think about is sex?”
I’m never one to track cycles, so the concept is foreign. All I know is that when I turn into a hot-headed bitch, it’s time to get the tampons ready. And of late, sex hasn’t been on my mind until last night.
“Speaking of sex, I met someone last night.”
“Hold up,” Amelia raises her voice. “We’ve talked for almost an hour in which I complained about a funny noise my washer was making, and you only bring this up now?”
“You were rambling on about it. Considering your husband is a billionaire, I don’t know why you just don’t buy a new one?”
“Stop distracting!” Amelia then follows with a groan. “What happened last night?”
I begin with my encounter at the bar, to the woman I saw him with, then the moment while waiting for the elevator. This is followed by describing precisely what he looked like, though, for a moment, my memory fails.
“So, I’m going to text him soon, and I know about the stupid bet…” I mention with annoyance.
“Screw the bet. Sparks don’t just fly with anyone,” Amelia informs me. “And an Aussie? Give me his name, so I can stalk him online.”
I laugh, then wonder why I haven’t done the same. This is the first point of call after I meet someone as good-looking as Lochie.
“Look, let me text him first and see what happens. After the start to this year, I just want to be cautious.”
“Uh, hello? Am I talking to Ava Edwards? When have you ever been cautious?”
