West 57
Page 29
“Me, too.”
“So why didn’t we?”
“Because we are stupid, stupid people.”
“Yes, we are.”
I rolled over onto his body. His skin felt good beneath me. So did other things. I propped myself up on his chest.
“Bree and I are going into business together,” I said. “Do you want to work with me?”
“I want to do everything with you.”
“I like that,” I said.
He opened his mouth to say something more, but I put a finger over his lips and stopped him. We didn’t need to say anything else. Not now. When you are naked on top of a naked man, you can find better things to do.
45
I saw him one last time. Sonny.
It was a few whirlwind weeks later. I’d hardly had time to think about the past, because we were so busy making plans for the future. Me. Bree. Garrett. Half the staff from West 57. We were writing contracts, developing strategies, reaching out to clients, talking to publishers, filmmakers, booksellers, advertising agencies, newspapers, and bankers. Dumbo was surprisingly helpful about financing. So was my mother.
I had no idea whether any of our plans would work, but I knew I was having more fun than I’d had in years. We had our first project, too: the book that Garrett and I had fallen in love with, Woodham Road. We would publish and market it ourselves. We would produce the film. We would coordinate marketing and publicity. We would do it the way it was supposed to be done. It was a whole new world.
After working together all day, Garrett and I spent every evening together. Sometimes at his place. Sometimes at my place. Talking. Working. Laughing. Reading. Watching the Yankees. Eating take-out. Making love.
In all of the commotion, I’d almost forgotten my father. I’d been thinking of everything else but Sonny. Finally, I had a Sunday morning in which I could break free of the business, so I went for a run through Central Park. It was early, only six o’clock. I started from my apartment in a purple halter and shorts, with my hair tied in the world’s longest pony tail. It had been weeks since I ran, so it felt liberating to go all out, pushing myself up and down the hills, panting, sweating.
That was when I thought about Sonny again.
I jogged up one of the hills near Central Park South, in a wooded area, where people liked to lay out on the rocks. That was one of the places where Sonny and I would sit on our summer Sundays. We would bring a picnic, and we would perch on the rocks, and we would both read, and we would chat about life, and he would tell me about authors he’d loved and food he’d eaten and parties he’d attended. He was my hero then.
He was still my hero.
As I remembered those days, I saw him waiting for me, on the rocks, still in his business suit, cigarette dangling from his mouth, as if I were a child again. I stopped on the path. Smiling, breathing heavily from the run, I climbed up the rocks and joined him there. We sat next to each other the way we had in the past.
“It’s a beautiful day in the world’s most beautiful city,” he said to me, which was something he always said back then. It didn’t matter if it was snowing or raining or cold or hot. Every day to Sonny was the most beautiful day in the world’s most beautiful city.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“You look happy, darling girl.”
“I am happy, Sonny. I can’t remember when I’ve been so happy. I’m living my own life. I have friends I love. I have a man I love.”
“I’m glad.”
“I only wish I still had you,” I told him, and I was trying not to bawl.
Sonny laughed in that big way of his, trying to make me feel better. “You do have me, darling girl! You will never be rid of me! Even if you don’t see me, I’m always right here.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“The question is whether you can ever forgive me, Julie. I know I disappointed you.”
“You didn’t disappoint me, Sonny. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Really. How could I not be proud of a father who would sacrifice everything to rescue the woman he loved?”
“I should have told you,” he said.
“Maybe. Or maybe this was a journey I needed to take for myself. I know you better now than I ever did when you were alive, Sonny. I know myself better, too. I know what I really care about now.”
He winked at me. “You always knew that.”
I think he was right, but like Bree said, it takes me a while to figure it out.
I wanted to stay there forever, but I couldn’t. It was time to go. It was time to say goodbye. He knew it, too, and he waved his hand toward the path.
“Run, Julie,” he told me. “Go on, get on with your life. Turn the page.”
“I love you, Sonny.”
“I love you, too, darling girl.”
I climbed down from the rocks and left him there. I walked for a few steps and then took a last glimpse over my shoulder. The rocks where I’d sat were empty, just as they’d always been. There had never been anyone with me. No ghosts. I waved anyway and blew him a kiss.
I started running again through the Park.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In addition to writing witty, romantic novels like WEST 57 and THE AGENCY, B.N. Freeman is well known to readers as bestselling thriller author Brian Freeman. His books include the popular Jonathan Stride and Cab Bolton series. Brian won the award for Best Hardcover Novel from the International Thriller Writers organization.
Lisa Gardner calls him “a master of psychological suspense,” and Michael Connelly says, “This guy can tell a story.” Nelson DeMille calls him “a first-rate storyteller.”
His books are available around the world and in audio editions.
Connect with Brian by e-mail at brian@bfreemanbooks.com or on Facebook at facebook.com/bfreemanfans or Twitter and Instagram using the handle bfreemanbooks. His web site is bfreemanbooks.com. For an inside look at the personal side of the book business, you can also like his wife Marcia’s Facebook page: facebook.com/theauthorswife.
NOTE
Everything you have read in this book is 100% fiction. References to real people are purely imaginary, and any such names appear in the book solely as fictional characters. This book is satire, and nothing in here should be taken seriously or considered true.
If you enjoyed this book, please post your reviews on Amazon and Goodreads and share links to the book on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and other social media sites!
BOOKS BY BRIAN FREEMAN
The Jonathan Stride Series:
IMMORAL
STRIPPED
STALKED
IN THE DARK
THE BURYING PLACE
SPITTING DEVIL (e-short story)
TURN TO STONE (e-novella)
THE COLD NOWHERE
GOODBYE TO THE DEAD (Available 2016)
The Cab Bolton Series:
THE BONE HOUSE
SEASON OF FEAR
Stand-Alone Novels:
SPILLED BLOOD
THE AGENCY (as Ally O’Brien)
WEST 57 (as B.N. Freeman)