White Wedding

by Ursula Sinclair

  The day crawled by. All of the staff had been at the wedding, and everyone came into her office to give her a hug and tell her how sorry they were about what happened. By now, they all knew most of the story—that LaToya lied. The funny thing was, no one had seen her since the botched wedding, and two of her closest friends at the salon had some thoughts as to what happened, paralleling what Eboni said. Jealously, pure and simple. They also told her LaToya had been working on hair from her home, luring some of the salon’s clients away. She’d even talked about being close to opening her own salon. They thought that part was just LaToya running her mouth.

  All of which was shocking news to Shanna. She’d had no idea. Neither did her sister when she called to tell her. It had been a long, enlightening day, and she was glad it was over. She let herself into her condo and sighed. The lamp she’d left on in the corridor helped her see the way to the bedroom without having to stop and turn on any more lights. Dropping her purse on the reclining chair in her room, she headed for the bathroom. As soon as she got to the doorway, her cell chimed. She walked back to her purse and retrieved it.

  “Hello?”

  “Shanna, hi. It’s Ben…please don’t hang up.”

  “You bastard!”

  “I deserve that. I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Bullshit. You never liked me, Ben. At least be honest about that.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve always loved you and enjoyed our friendship.”

  “Oh please. A friend who lusted after my fiancé.” She sighed. What was the point? “Look, there’s nothing more for us to say to each other. I’d tell you to have a nice life, but I hope you choke on it.” With that, she ended the call.

  “Son of a bitch! He has some nerve calling me to say he’s sorry.” She turned around to return to the bathroom when her cell chimed again. “Damn it, that better not be him.”

  She grabbed her phone and pushed the talk button. “Damn it, Ben. Do not call me.” There was dead silence. “Hello.” When there was no response she moved the phone away from her ear and checked the caller ID. Blocked. She disconnected the call, switched the phone to silent, tossed it back in her bag and headed for the shower while making a mental note to call the phone company about her house phone and maybe her cell now, too. They were both the same carrier.

  She’d barely been able to get anything done with all the traffic in and out of her office today. At least she’d managed to talk to her real estate agent. The couple she’d sold her place to were having trouble with their financing. If it didn’t come through in a few days the sales contract could be void. Until she knew for sure, she’d still have to have a contingency plan. She’d work on the assumption the sale would go through and she’d have to find another place. Just in case, she got her agent looking into it, and made arrangements to have her things moved the morning they were to close—either placing them in storage or to wherever she moved to. That way if the sale fell through she’d just cancel everything; meanwhile she wouldn’t unpack any boxes. She also needed to get back the few things she had at Kevin’s place and return his key to him. She was in no rush to talk to him to arrange either. She sighed. Her life had been so simple before. Now it was so very complicated.

  It wasn’t until much later when her head rested on her pillow she thought of another dark head laying next to hers. The ache of emptiness within her was painful enough to bring tears to her eyes. Ross. It was only a day and a half but already she missed him so much it was a physical ache. Something told her it wouldn’t get any better any time soon. After what he’d seen at the airport he probably hated her now. Maybe it was better that way. She was so screwed up. What kind of woman was ready to marry a man one day and jumped into bed with another the next?

  “One with something missing in her head… like a brain,” she whispered into the night.

  Unable to sleep, she grabbed the phone next to her bed to check her messages. She’d already spoken to her mother about breaking up with Kevin, and she was surprised at her response when she said, ‘You’re better off without him’. After listening to her messages, she deleted them all and again reminded herself to call the phone company. Most of them had been from her family, Kevin and Ben. None were from LaToya. A few of them were hang-ups. While she’d been checking her voicemail the phone kept beeping she had incoming calls, but she ignored them.

  She turned the system ringer back on, and as soon as she did, it rang. She checked the caller ID. Sure enough, it said ‘out of area’. She picked up the receiver but this time she didn’t say anything, just listened. Instead of dead silence there was a slight hum or static in the background. It was really weird, but it still seemed to her it might be one of those computer generated calls stuck on her number. She turned off the ringer. Sighing into her pillow, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, and dreamt about a man with amber eyes and brandy-colored hair.

  ***

  The caller checked the call logs and the number of times she’d answered the phone and smiled. Looking good. This had to be downright irritating, but not quite unnerving—yet. Maybe a little something needed to happen to ramp up the fear factor. That would require some thought.

  Chapter Seven

  “Ross.”

  “Sorry, Simon. Lost my train of thought for a second.”

  “Try for the last two months. Ever since you got back from Margarita. I know something happened to you down there. You just haven’t been the same.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Whatever you say, man. I’m just your second in command here. So if there was something you needed to talk about, I’m ready to listen. That’s all.”

  Ross turned and stared out the window, seeing nothing of the park across the street from his office. He knew he’d been withdrawn lately, but he wasn’t sure how to start a conversation with, "I met the woman I didn’t even know I was dreaming about, and lost her all at the same time." First of all, none of his friends and colleagues would believe it. No woman had ever walked away from him. And if one did, he wouldn’t have cared. He snorted. Yeah, right. Well he cared about this one.

  “Did you say something?” Noah, who also worked with them, had just walked into the room.

  “No, sorry. Okay, let’s finish up.”

  “I just grabbed these messages from your secretary,” Noah said, passing them over to Ross as he sat down in the chair next to Simon. “And everything’s under control on my end. Although, the next time I get tapped to cut my vacation short then come back and babysit some rock star brat, just shoot me.”

  Simon turned, grinning, raised one finger in the air and aimed it at Noah.

  “Not funny,” Ross said. “In that case, meeting’s over. Everyone’s on top of their assignments, even Noah. Now you guys get out of here.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” Noah asked. “The others are already over there just waiting for us to catch up.”

  ‘Over there’ was their favorite after-work bar and grill, also co-owned by Noah and run by his uncle. A great place to go and unwind. Especially with the five forty-two inch flat screen TVs placed throughout the bar permanently tuned to sports. The liquor was good, the women plentiful, good looking and available.

  “No, you all go on ahead.” Ross raised the five messages in his hand. “I know this first one might take awhile.”

  “Well the tequila will still be there, so come when you can, my friend,” Simon said, standing up.

  Ross watched his friends leave his office and tossed the messages back on his desk. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was longer than he usually wore it, brushing against his neck. He didn’t seem to have enough time to do anything anymore other than work. Which was why he knew his friends were worried about him. He hadn’t been out with them in weeks, not even for a beer after work. Not since that first night he got back from Margarita. He’d gone out with a few of his guys, and Noah had tried to set him up with a friend of a friend. He was so not interested. There was
only one woman he wanted, and she was the one woman he couldn’t have. What the hell was wrong with him? She’d made her choice.

  He reached for the messages and looked at the top one again. He hadn’t lied to Simon when he said that call would take a while. It was a complicated problem with the wiring, and the building owner didn’t want to pay to have the place rewired for the kind of system he needed so the property could be better secured. In spite of the two burglaries in a month. Some people did not want to listen. He flipped through the other green pieces of paper, freezing when he read the name on the last one.

  Without thinking twice about it, he reached for the receiver. It was only when he had it to his ear his brain began functioning again. Why had she called him? The message said it was important. Well, he wouldn’t get any answers from re-reading the message. He dialed the number.

  “Stiles Salon. Shanna speaking.”

  The sound of her voice vibrated in every micron of his cells. Neurons dormant for the last two months began firing in earnest. “It’s Ross.” There was silence for a moment. He didn’t dare think about what that meant. He cleared his throat. “I got your message.”

  “Yes…thank you for calling me back.”

  “You’re welcome.” This was inane. He wanted to know if she missed him as much as he missed her. Is that why she was calling? He couldn’t bring himself to ask, choosing to wait for her to let him know. For all he knew, she was married and just calling him to let him know about the big event and to make sure she wouldn’t run into him on her honeymoon. He was so caught up in his dark thoughts he hadn’t realized she’d spoken.

  “I’m sorry, say again.”

  “I said I need your help.”

  He sat up straighter in his chair. “How?” Anything. Anywhere. Any time. But he couldn’t say that.

  “I…can you come to the salon tomorrow morning and I’ll explain then? I need your security services.”

  He frowned. This was not going as he’d planned or dreaded. “What do you mean, you need my security services? Has your business been broken into?”

  “Yes, and I’ve been getting weird calls for almost two months now that the phone company can’t trace.”

  “Hang on a second.” He plugged her phone number into a directory program and came up with an address. “I can be at the address for this number in fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s late. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take you away from anything. This can wait until morning.”

  “Stay there. I’m on my way.” He hung up, and he didn’t breath again until he was out of his office and on his way to her.

  ***

  Ross broke a few traffic laws getting to Shanna’s salon. The salon was part of a popular mall, but had its own exterior entrance. It was still a few hours before the mall would close so most of the parking spots were taken. He’d spotted the awning sign for the salon entrance, pulled up as close to it as he could get, and made his way to the glass doors proclaiming Stiles Salon. He pulled the handle and looked into the interior, but it was locked. The dimmed lights indicated the place might be closed, and he couldn’t see anyone, but he knew Shanna was expecting him. He rang the bell.

  In moments a shadow appeared from the back of the place. It grew into a shape he was extremely intimate with. As she approached, a light came on inside near the door, illuminating her face. His heart seemed to want to leap out of his chest; he’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was. Of its own accord his hand raised, as if to touch her, but the glass door stood between them. She moved to the side and touched something along the wall, probably the control panel for the alarm system. The sound of a soft beep broke the silence, just before she opened the door for him to enter.

  She stepped back. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  This close he could see the lines of stress and shadows around her eyes. In some ways they mirrored his own. He wondered if the reason for the shadows being there was the same as his. God, how he’d missed her. Without her at his side, the nights were worse. Maybe he was being delusional, and the reasons for her obvious stress had more to do with her needing his security services, as opposed to needing him. He was so screwed up, and this was probably just a hire. Either way, she had reached out to him and he could see her again.

  “No problem,” he said. “Now would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Come on. Let’s go back to my office. We can talk there.” She relocked the door but didn’t reset the alarm.

  Walking behind her, he caught her scent. He had to close his eyes for a moment at the memories her coconut fragrance evoked. After opening them, the first thing he noticed was the way she wore her hair. Unlike his, hers was even shorter than he remembered. Tight curls capped her head, and she looked sleek and sophisticated. Untouchable. All he wanted to do was touch those curls. If given half a chance to make new memories with her, he’d take it. But something was clearly wearing her down; intuition told him it wasn’t just their separation. Stressed out or not, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known.

  He took the seat on the other side of the desk she sat behind, folded his arms across his chest and glanced around. The room had two glass-topped desks with computer monitors on them, magazines, and a few hair-care products. The wall had several styling awards as well as photographs of hair models. All of the photographs bore the logo of her store.

  He returned his gaze to her, those dark eyes already drawing him back in, but he waited for her to begin. When all he really wanted to do was take her in his arms. He tried to look at her left hand but she had it on her lap, so he couldn’t tell if she wore an engagement or wedding ring. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was here. He had no choice but to come to her.

  Just as she opened her mouth the phone on her desk rang. She leaned forward and stared at the caller ID. “That’s one of the problems. Look at the caller ID.”

  He stood up and leaned over the desk to see the phone display. “Okay.” It said 'blocked call'.

  “Now answer it.”

  He picked up the receiver and listened for a moment. “Hello,” he said, then listened again. There was a soft disconnecting sound before he heard a dial tone. He hung up the phone and sat back down. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Here at the office, for a couple weeks. But I’ve been getting hang-up calls at home since I got back from Margarita, and usually a few times a day.”

  “Has anything like this ever happened before, before Margarita?”

  “Here at work, we get wrong numbers or a few hang-ups every now and then. But this seems a little different, and just like the calls at my house.”

  “You said the phone company couldn’t trace the calls?” At her nod he continued. “Did they explain why?”

  “Like I told you, they just said they couldn’t do it. They think it’s just some automated system my number’s stuck on, and when a system check is done on that end it will shut off. The thing is, first this started on my home phone, and then my cell, but when it didn’t stop after a few weeks, I had those numbers changed. Then the calls began here, but at odd hours.”

  “Like only when you were around, early in the morning or late at night?”

  Her eyes briefly met his before she lowered her lashes. She'd been avoiding looking at him—her gaze landing everywhere else but on his face. In that quick look, the depth of sadness he found in hers eyes almost had him pulling her out of her chair and into his arms. It was the same sadness he thought he’d banished on the island, but it had returned. For what or whom?

  “Yes. Since it’s not happening during regular business hours I don’t want to change the number, and unlike my home and cell phones it will still be a public number. I don’t believe it’s a stuck number, not when the calls started coming here. I think I know who’s doing it, and I’ve been to the police to file a complaint. The only reason they even paid attention is because Eboni has a friend on the force who helped me out. Other than talking
to the person, they can’t do anything. Since the calls aren’t coming from this person’s phone numbers I can’t prove it’s LaToya, my former friend and employee.”

  “Why are you so sure it’s her?”

  She sighed. “She was the one at the wedding who had seen Kevin kissing his best man.”

  He couldn’t let that pass. “Your fiancé. And she lied about all of that. So what happened? Did you find out why she did it?”

  “She wanted him.”

  “I see.” He understood wanting what one shouldn’t. Like he wanted her—still.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you tried contacting her since then?”

  “Yes, I tried going over to her place when I first got back, but she either wasn’t home or just not answering her door. So I haven’t seen her or spoken to her. She stopped coming to work while I was gone, never even bothered to call and let us know she wasn’t coming back, nothing. We sent her last paycheck to her condo certified. The receipt came back signed. It wasn’t her signature but the check was cashed.”

  “Did the police talk to her?”

  “Yes. The first time, no one was home. The second time they knocked on a neighbor’s door and left a card asking her to call. She did and the officer spoke to her by phone. Of course she denied knowing anything about the phone calls, and as far as the phone company can tell, the calls aren’t coming from her phone number, address or cell.”

  “Have they tried putting a tap on your phone to trace incoming numbers?”

  “Yes, but the trace for the hang-up calls has always been inconclusive.”

  “So without more, there’s not much they can do.”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  “You said there’s been a break-in. Where? Here?”

  “Yes, but we’ve since had it fixed. The glass was broken last week on the door I let you in.”

  “What about the alarm? Was it on?”

  “They didn’t enter right away. After the glass was broken the alarm went off and mall security responded within minutes, along with the police. I got here shortly after they called me to let me know. No one had gotten in, though. They wrote it up as just vandals. Whoever did it broke the glass and then drove off. There’s a security camera in the parking lot aimed in this section, but it didn’t get a good picture of the car that drove past, or the person who got out and hit the door with an object they think was a bat. It’d been raining hard and heavy with a lot of lightning that night, and the video feed kept flicking off and on.”