Tapped

by Liz Crowe

  She saw him, just as she figured, with the thin form of his ex-girlfriend attached to him like a parasite. Evelyn gulped and blinked back tears. A hand settled on her shoulder. Austin’s ancient secretary, Mrs. Richardson, leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t let them upset you, dear. He loves you. Nothing will change that.”

  Evelyn nodded, mute, as she watched the continuous parade of the Midwest’s rich and famous give their condolences to Austin, his mother, and the woman who, if one did not know better, could be his wife, judging by the way she stood so close, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

  “I should go,” she muttered, suddenly feeling peevish and blind with jealousy and self-doubt.

  “No, you should not.” Mrs. Richardson kept a firm hand on her. “I’ve been with this family for nearly thirty-five years, young lady. And I will not allow you to let her”—she leveled an arthritic finger at the tableau near the casket—“make you feel bad or out of place, or anything other than the woman her son loves.” She patted Evelyn’s cheek. “Buck up now, honey. Austin is your man. Start acting like it.”

  But she sat, glued to her seat, it seemed. And endured the rest of the gruesome visitation hours ritual, observing as Austin leaned into Valerie’s slim shoulder one time too many for her taste. By the time the room had cleared she’d worked herself into a frenzy. Resignation, regret, and the hint of a future unhappiness tinged the edges of her raw emotions. She wandered out of the large chapel in a daze.

  “Evelyn.” Austin glanced up when he saw her in the doorway of a room full of dainty desserts, coffee and tea. He held a double bourbon in one hand. “Where have you been?” He took a sip, his expression tired, but guileless. Evelyn experienced a tiny thrill of anger at him for not seeing straight through his mother’s and Valerie’s little show.

  Valerie’s high-pitched laughter made her blink and turn. The woman held out a hand to Evelyn. “Hello. I’m Valerie. And you must be…”

  The woman left just enough empty air after her last words to make Evelyn understand that her name and her position with Austin were forgettable. Her face flushed. “I must be going.”

  Austin held out the empty glass. Valerie took it from him, her eyes full of sympathy. “Another?” she asked, her scrawny hand on Austin’s dark-suited arm.

  “Uh, sure.” He stared at Evelyn. “Where are you going? I told you we had the dinner—”

  She cut him off. “I’m not going to that.” She gestured to the refreshed drink the simpering Valerie held out. “You’re pretty well covered, I’d say.”

  He didn’t try to stop her and she knew it was childish. But she’d be damned if she stood there another minute like a stupid peasant watching the nobility and observing that bitch hover around her man.

  Your man, Evelyn. Don’t walk away from him. He needs you.

  She threw her Mercedes sedan into reverse and backed out so fast she nearly ended up in the front room of the sedate, expensive funeral home. All the way home, she reminded herself that she was wearing Austin’s engagement ring. She slept with him every night. They shared everything—from their morning coffee, to dinner, to towels. Everything up to and including the sort of wildly awesome sex life some women could only dream about.

  But the voice in her ear, the one she’d successfully muffled for the past few months, kept up its yammering.

  You don’t fit in. You can’t understand his life. You never will.

  Tears rolled down her face as she parked under Austin’s building and sat, gripping the steering wheel and regretting anything nasty or bitchy she’d ever said to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Austin’s mouth felt like the Mojave Desert and his gut did sickening flips as he contemplated his new reality, sitting in the office he’d inherited. His father had left everything tidy and clear. Once the will had been read to them by the family’s attorney, a mere two days after the funeral, it had been revealed that he, the only acknowledged son to the Fitzgerald fortune, would be CEO of Fitzgerald Brands.

  He, Austin, now owned and operated a multi-billion-dollar food supply business. He, Austin, now had five giant warehouses, leased a fleet of semis, managed payroll, insurance and pension plans for nearly three thousand people, and supervised logistics delivery of restaurant-grade food and paper products to something like eight thousand locations in seven states.

  He, Austin, had two personal assistants and a giant office…plus a possibly pregnant fiancée who’d more or less stopped talking to him.

  He groaned and sat up on the couch of his new office and grappled with this destiny.

  It had only taken a week for his mother to insert herself into his life as if he’d never left his boyhood home. She called, dropped by the office, and generally took over in ways he wasn’t equipped to cope with, much less deny. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in over a week. Or a real conversation with Evelyn. Forget about getting laid. He groaned and flopped back, the huge window reflecting a perfect West Michigan summer’s day, as if mocking how utterly miserable he felt.

  He glanced down at a text message, hoping it was Evelyn. She’d been put in full charge of the brewery since they’d found Max Fitzgerald cold and dead on his kitchen floor. He didn’t doubt for a second that she could handle it. He also didn’t doubt that she’d been using their respective busyness levels to ignore him, even though they slept side by side every night.

  The text was from Valerie.

  She’d been invaluable this last week, being hands-on with his mother when he couldn’t and generally buffering the woman for him. His feelings about her were straightforward. He considered her a friend and nothing more. But she could handle Virginia Fitzgerald’s bursts of emotion and bouts of depression better than anyone, it seemed.

  I’m in the building. Brought lunch, she said in her message.

  He smiled when she appeared within seconds, a bag of delicious-smelling food in one hand and her phone in the other.

  “Thanks.” He rose and stretched, his chest still tight at the memory of Evelyn’s gaunt face and her continued silent treatment. He was batting a thousand with her, no doubt. And it made him nuts. But he had zero energy to do anything about it. I should call Ross, he thought, even as he smiled at Valerie, taking in the slim line of her black skirt, creamy silk shirt and high heels in a fairly typical male fashion.

  “You look terrible,” she said as she set out the sandwiches and drinks. “I know you miss working at the brewery.” She sat, crossed her legs, and gave him a searching look.

  Austin suddenly wanted nothing more than to talk to someone who would talk back. He hadn’t had time to really connect with Ross in the last two weeks, although he knew Evelyn had filled him in on what had happened. At that moment, nothing seemed more perfect than dumping it all on a woman he’d known for years, one of his oldest friends.

  After nearly forty minutes of telling her pretty much everything, including Evelyn’s potential, but ultimately non-existent pregnancy and their new dynamic with Ross—since Valerie had known about their relationship in Germany—he felt a thousand times better. She remained quietly sympathetic, offering a few comments, mostly just listening. Eventually, she got up and cleared away their mess.

  When she came around the desk and stood a bit too close to his chair, he did a mental double take, realizing he probably had said too much. But she put a hand on his shoulder, leaned down and brushed his cheek with a kiss, grabbed her purse and started for the door.

  He sat, a little dumbstruck by the whole scene. Visions of Evelyn, her bright blue eyes and smart mouth that likely would have a few things to say about his whiney diatribe, passed through his brain. Valerie turned, her thin frame encased in designer names from head to toe. “I’m here for you, Austin, whenever you need an ear. I’d like to be more for you again. But I understand I can only be a friend, so please count on me.”

  He nodded, wondering what had just happened. Then Assistant Number One stuck her head in the door, reminding him of h
is next meeting and his brain clouded over at the crushing weight of unwanted responsibility.

  After hours spent with a consultant, the human resources director, and his father’s trusted attorney, he felt even worse. He groped for his phone, needing to hear Evelyn’s voice, even if she were still pissed at him for whatever reason.

  His pockets were empty. “Excuse me a second, gentlemen.” He stood and took deep breaths to calm his nerves as he walked back to his office. The damn thing was nowhere to be found. “Jill!” he barked at Assistant Number Two.

  She looked up from her computer screen. “Yes?”

  He ground his teeth. “Have you seen my phone?”

  Evelyn stared at the woman across the elegant, cloth-draped table and let the humming in her ears that signaled major angry meltdown deafen her for a few more seconds. She sipped her iced tea then patted her lips with the crisp linen napkin as the sounds of a busy country club restaurant ebbed and flowed around her, mocking the innocuous…thing Austin’s mother had just suggested to her.

  Virginia mirrored her, all the while keeping her evil smile fixed in place as if she had not told Evelyn to get out of her son’s life—in exchange for an obscene amount of money.

  An envelope sat on the table between them, an embossed and heavy reminder of just how her life had been reduced to a mere number with a dollar sign attached to it.

  The horrible woman’s words kept coming, assaulting her in spite of her effort to not care. “I understand.” She patted Evelyn’s hand. The feel of her ice-cold skin broke Evelyn’s silence.

  “No, actually I don’t think you do.” Her face flushed hot and she recognized the familiar onrushing fury. She let it loose, keeping her voice low. “Your son is the one who wanted to marry me. He had to ask me five or six times before I agreed to it. And I just figured out why it took me so long to agree to it.” She stood, a little wobbly but resolute.

  Austin’s mother merely looked at her, as if a scene was exactly what she had expected from his down-market fiancée. “Dear. Please sit. You need to know all of it. This must be a shock after all the…time you have spent together. But poor Austin couldn’t bring himself to tell you himself. Bless his heart. He and Valerie are back together.”

  Evelyn picked up the envelope and tore it in half before shoving it in the remains of her soggy tuna salad.

  “I thank you, Virginia, truly. For finally showing me the light.” She kept a smile on her face at the cost of actual physical pain since what she wanted to do was dump the woman’s expensive wine on her head. “If you are so fucking evil that you would punish your son, make him miserable just to further your own agenda, well, that’s a family I want no part of. Because, I promise you, he will hate you for this.” She stepped closer and leaned down to the woman’s powdery-smelling ear. “I feel sorry for you. I wouldn’t waste a good hate on someone as pitiful as you.”

  Her chest constricted as she made her way out of the chilly room and out into the parking lot. “Shit, shit.” She dropped her keys to the pavement, then cracked the back of her head on the side mirror, bringing tears to her eyes.

  She pulled to the side of the road before she had an accident, and hit Austin’s speed dial. If she could only hear his voice, she’d know this whole thing was bullshit. He’d laugh, make some stupid joke out of it, and they’d be fine. She realized she’d been distant since his father’s death, but that, on top of the pregnancy scare, plus her new role as head of Fitzgerald Brewing Company had turned her into a jittery mess. The fact that she hadn’t allowed him his own frustrations, hadn’t listened when he’d needed it hit her right between the eyes.

  She’d fix all that now.

  This whole thing was another one of Virginia’s manipulations. He’d set her straight.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice answered Austin’s phone after one ring.

  Evelyn gripped the steering wheel. “Jill? It’s Evelyn. Is Austin around?”

  “Oh, this isn’t Jill. It’s Valerie. I’m sorry, but Austin’s a little busy at the moment…”

  Evelyn stared down the tunnel that had just opened up in front of her vision, and threw the phone out of the window.

  By the time she eased the car into the underground parking garage of Austin’s building, Evelyn had calmed. She was so calm, it alarmed her. But she went with it, letting her non-racing pulse and her non-pounding heart guide her forward to the next obvious steps.

  She turned the key, listening to the expensive German-made motor fade as her grip on the soft leather steering wheel tightened. But her breathing remained calm and tears didn’t threaten as she glared out of the windshield at the dull gray concrete wall.

  Sucking in a huge breath, hoping to force her hands to release, she got a lungful of expensive car interior. Glancing over to the passenger seat, still unable to move, she took in the small, tasteful bag. The interior light caught the metal on the understated, elegant designer watch. Her sunglasses chose that moment to slide off her hair down to her nose. A bright light seemed to pierce her eyeballs, making her wince. All of this—the cars, jewelry, accessories, condo, vacations, every ounce of food and drink she’d consumed for the last few months—was his. Not hers.

  How had she allowed herself to get to this point? This dependent on a man—a man who had claimed he loved her. But was apparently just another cheating asshole, mama’s boy.

  A film seemed to cover her eyes. She glanced down, confused by the fact that her linen pants legs were damp. She touched them, honestly not even realizing that she must have been crying for the last ten minutes or so. She was that numb.

  Evelyn Benedict, her inner, better self insisted, this is all a huge misunderstanding. A giant one, to be sure. But Austin loves you. Why would you think otherwise? You’re being overly dramatic. Just tell him what his mother did, laugh, then drag his ass to some wedding-planning events. It’s what you want, and your endless need to play poor little poor girl is getting old.

  She pressed a hand to her forehead to shut the stupid, logical bitch up.

  Now, now, it kept talking. You know I’m right. That Valerie must have his phone because…

  Evelyn let out a primal scream and beat her fists against the steering wheel. “Well?” she cried out to the empty car interior. “What’s your answer to that? Why would Valerie be answering his goddamn phone? Huh? Well?”

  The voice shut up.

  So she climbed out of the car, rode the elevator to the top floor, used her key in the lock, all the while marveling at the everydayness of this moment. She stood in the foyer, taking in the familiar, yet utterly strange, tasteful furnishings. The sight of her threadbare white robe draped over the leather couch glowed like a beacon of inappropriate, out-of-place tackiness.

  At that moment, a massive cramp hit her belly. She marched grimly to the bathroom, where her suspicions about a pregnancy were realized.

  Just a scare. Nothing to worry about. Move along with your lives.

  Once she’d cleaned up, a firm resolution came over her. She headed toward the closet where she’d stashed a couple of broken-down boxes from a few years ago. Those, plus three of the oh-so-expensive pieces of luggage he’d bought for their last vacation would do quite nicely.

  She threw them onto the huge bed, then started yanking her clothes off their hangers and out of drawers. All the while holding back tears. She would not cry. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

  A drop of blood hit her hand. She licked her lip. She’d been biting on it so hard she’d made herself bleed.

  Jesus.

  Her knees shook and her hands trembled.

  But she would not cry.

  She heard Austin open the door, his keys hitting the bowl where he kept them, his footfalls echoing as he walked into the kitchen. She heard him open a beer. But she stayed frozen in place, incapable of movement.

  Her heart chose that moment to speed up so fast her chest hurt. He knew she was here. They parked side by side so he would have seen her car. He must be fi
guring out how to break it to her. That he and that…that…skinny cunt of a debutante were indeed back together.

  No, Evelyn. Go to him. Let him explain. Tell him exactly what happened today. Give him a chance to make it right before you temper tantrum yourself straight out of this amazing relationship.

  “Shut up,” she growled to herself.

  “Honey?” She heard him making his way down the hall, the Turkish rug muffling his steps. She stared at the floor, trying to figure out what to say that did not involve screaming, cursing or thrown objects. “Hey, what’s all…this?” His voice faded.

  She looked at him, slumped in the doorway. He’d lost weight—couldn’t manage to eat from stress, he claimed. Tears threatened but she bit them back and set her jaw.

  “This is me. Leaving.”

  “I gathered as much.” He kept his voice light. His usual method of dealing with hysteria on her part involved keeping it calm, cool, and collected. The bastard could pull it off in pretty much every circumstance.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me?”

  Tell him, Evelyn. Tell him…

  “No. I won’t.” He grabbed her arm.

  She yanked out of his grasp. “Spare me. I get it. I delayed the wedding too long so you turned to the junior varsity squad and plucked out a new player.”

  He stared at her. His eyes flashed with anger. “What in the hell… Are you drunk?”

  “Fuck you, no. I’m not.”

  “Then what in God’s name are you talking about?”

  She sighed, slumped against the wall opposite their—no, scratch that, his—bedroom. She had to get out. Get away from him. This was too much. “Look, Austin, I get it. Valerie is a better fit for you all around. I’m too volatile. Too emotional. Too…down-market. You guys should be together.”

  Austin’s jaw dropped, then he threw his head back and laughed so hard she feared for his sanity. Finally, he stopped and leveled his gaze at her. “What happened, Evelyn? I know you went to lunch with my mother. What in the hell did she say to you?”