by Leigh Lennon
“Liz, if you didn’t let me go and abandon our life together in California for the money, then tell me why. Tell me now.” He steps one foot closer then stops as I put a foot behind me, keeping a safe distance.
He hasn’t stopped looking at me but I won’t meet his gaze. With the heat in my cheeks, I’m not sure if I’m blushing at his eyes on me or angry at his words. “Iz, I can’t. I told you then I can’t and I’m telling you the same fucking thing now.”
I’m an adult—an educated woman—yet all semblance of control and maturity flies out the window. I’m transported back to the scared girl I was when I’d been following my daddy’s directive—Candace or him. In essence my own freedom was stolen from me and for so long I’d had no value or self worth. Now I do. I may be callous and cynical but explaining myself after years of oppression is not something I’ll allow myself to do.
It doesn’t stop me enough, though, when my heart lurches. I want to grab him and never let go. For this reason, the pitch in my voice hitches when I ask, trying to keep my wits about me, “Why are you here anyway, Iz? You already believe the worst of me.”
Taking just two strides, he’s within one small grasp of my body. He takes those long arms, ones I had watched over the years on Sunday afternoons throwing the ball down field, and caresses my forearm. How can one swipe of his hand against mine bring my core out of hibernation? With his other hand, he brushes my chin. “ You’re right, Liz, I do want to believe you and that you let our love die over more than just money.” Turning on his heels, he opens the door to the stairs. Even waiting for the elevator would be too much time of us breathing the same oxygen.
16 years ago
He’s already sitting down when I arrive in class the next day. On the table, the same spot I lay out my three different binders I use for this particular class, is a four pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. On the candy bar is a little note.
Believe me when I say,
I’d like to get to know
you better and I promise
this isn’t some
cheesy pick-up line.
-Iz
I’m not a fool. I have known from the beginning who’s been sitting next to me, from the first day of class. It’s more of the reason I’d not been too approachable. I love sports; hell, if it’d not been for a blown-out knee, I could have gone on to play basketball, but that wasn’t my path, as much as I miss it. It was the one reason I was planning a career as a sports broadcaster. If I couldn’t play, I’d immerse myself into it. Taking the note and placing it carefully in my backpack, I open the candy bar, eating it as I do every morning for my breakfast. I may not have been ready to talk to him the second he called me Buttercup; I’m still damaged. It’ll take a lot more than a candy bar to worm his way into my heart, but this is a great first step.
After class, I turn to him. “Thanks for the chocolate. By the way, I’m Liz.”
I try to walk away quickly before he can utter a word, but I fail miserably when he speaks. “Liz and Iz, it has a ring to it—it’s like fate—even our names know we belong together.” Now, that line is cheesy but in the innocence of what he’s said, it’s also very sweet.
6
Israel
The next day greets me like an atomic bomb. Kendra sent me a text message finally agreeing to talk after months of dodging this bullet with Nevaeh. SOFIE, who’s my in-house security system Lang invented years ago, keeps on blabbering like I have another fucking woman ragging at me. This time it’s that annoying automated computer voice. He’s also set up a meeting with a new lawyer, though he agreed to keep the appointments he’d made for his other clients with Liz.
Liz—this name is what really hits me. Those three letters being the nuclear fallout that takes me back to a time I’d thought my life was over. When I contemplate sitting in bed to avoid the fact that we now share an area code, my phone doesn’t let me forget that I have a contract to negotiate and still no fucking lawyer to do so.
Fox Sports and ESPN are both fighting for me. Fox would be unbelievable, but I always wanted to announce the best game of all football. That’s Monday night.
Pulling up my email, I have ten—no, twelve messages from Lang. I hand it to the motherfucker, he’s thorough. Not only this, my phone is buzzing with text alerts from him because Nevaeh programmed my phone calls to be funny as the theme from Game of Thrones. Not sure how my nine-year-old knows the show but I’m sure it has something to do with her mother not screening her television time. All that aside, Kendra and I were doomed from the beginning but the woman is the best mother I could ask for when it comes to Nevaeh, even if she allows her to watch questionable shows or has a little bit of a dirty mouth. Bottom line, Kendra is mother bear and it’s certainly a badge of honor she wears proudly.
Before I can even pour cream into my coffee, I hear a knock at the door. Only three people are allowed on the elevator without announcement: Kendra, Nevaeh, and Lang. At this moment I just can’t handle the latter, but I’d always take a, “Gosh, Dad, you drink too much coffee,” lecture from Nevaeh.
Before I open the door, my in-house security system beckons, “Mr. Laita, Ms. Kendal is here.” Opening the door at this announcement, I’m standing in front of Kendra, who happens to be my still strikingly beautiful ex-wife. If there was ever a time I could have willed myself to love her without abandon, like I’d loved another blonde-haired beauty, our marriage would’ve never failed.
“Iz, didn’t you get my message?” she asks, walking in, her five-inch heels clicking on my hardwood floor.
Taking my phone, I pull up her most recent text and read it out loud, “I’ll text you details about getting together to discuss Nev. -Ken.”
Staring at her neatly manicured neon pink nails, so bright NASA could see them from space, she doesn’t look at me when she casually says, “Oh, well I’m here with the details.” Putting down her hands, she turns to hug me. “Ah, you stink.”
“Yeah, it’s eight, Ken. I just woke up and I haven’t worked out, you know my routine.” So I have not showered either.
Laughing, she makes herself at home, grabbing a cup of coffee and kicking off her shoes, losing her height. Still, Kendra is almost six foot without her heels and with her long legs and blonde hair, it’s one of the many reasons everyone’s head turns when she walks in the room. Her outrageously loud personality, as flashy as her figure, is another.
Grabbing my cream out of the fridge for her, she swings around and places herself at my counter while I make an omelet. “Want one?” I ask when she shakes her head no.
“Shit, Iz, you’re so predictable,” she teases.
“I didn’t change just because our marriage fell apart, Ken. I’m still the same Iz, just minus a wife and a kid and the house,” I say when her eyes fall from mine. I grab her hand. “Ken, I didn’t mean that in the dickhead way it came out. I’m just sayin’, I’m still me. We were married for ten years, of course we still know what the other’s likes are. I knew the second you saw there was coffee, your shoes would be kicked off and you’d sit here and watch me cook, as you always did.”
My ex-wife is gorgeous and in this small moment, I miss the closeness we once shared. Sure, she has always been right, there was a third person in our marriage, but I loved Kendra very much. With her blonde hair and deep blue eyes, one could say I had a type. If Kendra had ever seen Liz, she’d be pissed by how much they resemble one another, though Kendra is familiar with Liz. When I found out about her affair with Paul, sure I was fucking fired up. But it was her words that stopped me in my tracks. “You always had another person you brought into our marriage, so I just went out and did the same.”
But that was three years ago and I realized in that moment, no matter how horrible her betrayal was, there was truth to the neglect I’d shown Kendra.
Squeezing my hand, she replies, “I know. Iz, I’ll always care for you.”
“Same here, Ken. Now, let’s figure out what we’re gonna do with our daughter. I can�
�t see her like this. I mean, we picked that fucking uppity school because it’s the best and that little Lettle girl is making her life hell.”
She takes in a deep sigh. “Okay, you win. I’ll concede to your wishes and find her someone to talk to, but I’m not ready to pull her from school yet.”
I nod in agreement because this is an arrangement I can get behind and quite honestly, I’m shocked as hell Kendra has agreed to this so easily. “As long as we discuss this if it gets worse, deal?” I ask, placing my hand out as she shakes it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Laita.”
“Thank you, Ms. Kendal.” Kendra never changed her name legally to Laita nor to Paul’s last name. In the modeling world, everyone knew her as Kendra Kendal and that’s how she’ll stay her whole life.
Flipping my cheese omelet over, I broach another subject since her coffee is still fairly full. “Lang asked about you.”
Her eyes widen when she asks, “Oh, yeah? How is ole’ Lang?”
“He’s still friends with both of us. I somehow got him in the divorce but he feels pretty shitty about losin’ you.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t ever want him to feel he’s choosing, you know? I’m not sure how to handle it, quite honestly.”
I laugh because I can’t believe I’m about to say what leaves my mouth. “Just treat him like you do Nev. She never felt like she was choosing, so it’s similar in that way.” I shrug when I continue, “It’s an idea.”
Narrowing her eyes on me, her lips form a little smirk, same bright lipstick matching her nails, and she almost spits out her coffee. “Did you just compare Langston Jamison, the biggest manwhore I’ve ever known, to our daughter?”
I shake my head, wondering, too, what I’d been thinking when I admit, “It sounded better in my mind than out of my mouth. But seriously, call him.”
Agreeing with me, she takes another drink of her coffee but waits until I’m done with my bite of the omelet to continue our conversation. “So, what’s Lang up to? Did he find you a new lawyer?”
I internally moan at the idea of looking for a new lawyer. Lang had sworn this new prospect was the one. I could have fucking told him she was the one, just not in the way he’d thought.
“Oh, that bad?” she asks when I say nothing, but Kendra is aware of the grimace that covers my face like thunderclouds when I’m angry.
“No, she’s good, I actually know her,” I say after I swallow a bite of my omelet.
Now, when Kendra’s brows raise a good two inches, I know she’s intrigued. “Um, come on, Iz, do tell. Now I’m curious.”
“We passed with her though, too much conflict of interest.”
Kendra won’t let this go, I know her too well. Her head cocks to the side and her determined don’t fuck with me look appears. “Iz, who the hell is this person? I must know.”
Looking down, because Kendra will find out some way, somehow, I cave. “It’s Liz, Liz Declan.”
Standing and almost spilling her coffee, her sudden movement scares me and I’m not sure how she’ll react. “Iz, are you telling me this is your Liz, the other person in our marriage?”
“Well, I’m as fuckin’ shocked as you are,” I admit.
Coming around the island, she stands in front of me. Reaching my shoulders and bringing me close to her, I inhale the familiar perfume and coffee she’s just drank. “Iz, I’m not shocked. Not at all. This is fate. It’s fucking fate and if you don’t take your second chance with this girl, I’ll kick your ass from here to Sunday.”
16 years ago
Two agonizing days in class without the wafting smell of lavender, coffee, and peanut butter—her signature aroma. My body needs to see her, just to know she’ll return. For a woman I’ve barely spoken to, I’ve retained so much of her to memory; her eyes, the sound of her voice, and the way she eats a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. She’s become that itch I can’t scratch.
On the third day with no sign of Liz, I leave class early. I’m not sure how I’m gonna find her on a campus of fifteen thousand students, but I’m resourceful to say the least. But more so, I’m determined to make sure she’s okay and safe, and somewhere within ten minutes of seeing her, I want her wrapped in my arms.
7
Liz
Lost in the clutter of my mind, I stand at my floor-to-ceiling windows studying the view of the Griffith Observatory, again, burning it to memory. It’s my favorite vantage point and when my eyes don’t wander, I take inventory of my day as Langston’s words were medicine for my mind.
It had only been five minutes since the meeting when Langston called with the good news. “Hudson Barrett wants you, Eliza. And I think you both will be a good match for each other.” It happens to be beside the point that Hudson looks at me as if he could eat me up. My looks are nothing compared to my tenacity to barter with the Forty-Niners for the best contract.
In my mind, with the backdrop of L.A. being my comfort, I think of the present terms of his deal and how he’s taken the ‘Niners to the Super Bowl. This is after losing the most valuable quarterback of all time. This happens to be the man replacing the Israel Laita. Since he was Iz’s back up, a true contract has never been negotiated and Hudson Barrett is invaluable and under paid.
Sure, being able to haggle over Fox or ESPN for a contract of several million dollars is something I was born for; however, it’s time to let sleeping dogs lie. I can’t work with Iz, not ever, but going toe-to-toe for Hudson’s new deal is something better than an orgasm. Well, I guess it depends who’s giving me that orgasm. My ex-husband—sure, smelling a wet dog is better than sex with Neal. But with Iz, that man is skilled with his hands and more so than just throwing the pig skin.
Still staring out at the amazing skyline, my phone beeps and I hear my sister’s dreamy voice on the intercom. I hate that intercom and fought against it, but like most things with Candace, I caved like a horse on a card table. “Liz, it’s Langston Jamison, he’s here to see you.” Her voice alludes that this man is the best invention since sliced bread and I snicker at her youth.
Waltzing into my office, he starts without a chance for a proper greeting on my part. “Eliza, can you come with us to San Francisco the following weekend for a sit down?” There’s no way I’d say no to this. “I have the private jet at my company’s disposal.” I nod, not as though he can see me because he’s looking at his phone, but it gives me pause in order to play it cool. He continues, “And if I were you, I think you may need some assistance.”
“Smooth, Langston, that was very smooth, but can I add…” He cuts me off but I know where his mind is going.
“Business, Eliza, it’s just business.”
I stand now, because there isn’t one person on this earth I’m more protective of than my sister. “So, you’re telling me you don’t want to seduce Candace?”
Silence deafens the office until he finally clears his throat. “Hell, no, I won’t ever deny that. Your sister is special but I know she will be a help, that’s all.”
I continue to flip through my notes and calendar, his phone rings and it scares the shit out of me. “I’m sorry, I need to take this. Give me a second.” I’m clearing my schedule when his voice becomes animated, insisting that, from what I hear, he’ll meet said party downstairs. “No, that’s great, I would love to spend the day with her. I’ll clear my schedule. No. You know where I am? It’s not a good idea.” I hear bits and pieces and when I can tell he’s met his match, he ends the call in what I’m left to believe is his flustered stance.
“Um, Eliza.” He stands disheveled in front of me. “I need to prepare you for something, or someone.”
I can’t do Iz today, not right now. My heart breaks every time I see the pain I’ve caused him, along with all the shit he’s done to himself for not trusting me. “You know, we’re finished, you can meet Iz out in the lobby, but I don’t have it in me right now, Langston. I know that puts you in a rough spot.”
Running his hands through his jet-black hair, I can unders
tand what Candace sees in the man. He’s handsome, in a pretty-boy sort of way, and Candace always loved the pretty ones. Wrinkling his forehead, he lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s not Iz. It’s actually…” Before I know it, the door to my office swings open and in runs a little girl, who within a second of seeing her, I know who she belongs to. Her coloring is lighter than his, but with her mom white like I am, there’s no denying this little girl is Iz’s.
Langston leans down and picks her up, then squeezes her. “Nev, baby, I’ve missed you. Let me take you in.” Lang puts down Iz Junior when he looks up at me. “Like I was saying, Eliza, Iz’s daughter and ex-wife are on their way up.”
My body twists around, almost ready to fall off my heels, when I see the one and only Kendra Kendal standing in my office. Sure, I have seen her before. Her body and face have been plastered all over billboards for the past twelve years. Even though her modeling career is over, she’s gorgeous. But it’s only now when I see her without all the touch-ups of photography that I understand I could be looking at a twin.
“Holy fuck,” Kendra blurts out when her eyes fall on me.
“Mommy, you can’t say the f-word.” Little mini Iz is watching her mother watch me.
What can I say, she has probably never seen me before, but I’m sure she’s heard of me. She’s seeing what I’m seeing for the first time, too. This is awkward enough, without f-bombs flying in front of Iz’s daughter. I walk to her, extending my hand. “Hi, I’m Eliza Parker. It’s nice to meet you, Kendra.” It sounds so stiff and formal but quite honestly; this is uncomfortable as hell.
Kendra’s eyes widen, locking on Langston’s as a twinge of anger laces her voice. “Did you know, Lang? She could be my fucking twin.”
“Um, not really. I mean, there were similarities, but I never met Liz, I mean, Eliza, until a couple weeks ago.” Rubbing his eyes with the base of his palms, he breaks contact with the fiery eyes of Iz’s ex, looking at Nevaeh when he says, “You know what, I have to head to the office, Lil’ Bit. After that, I’m all yours for the day. Say goodbye to your mom and let them talk.”
