It takes me several seconds to realize how odd the sight is. I finally look up.
The man is dressed casually in black jeans and a navy top. I observe him over my shoulder as he passes the front stairs going in the opposite direction. He’s heading towards the front entrance.
There’s something strange about the way he carries himself—as if he’s trying to appear smaller than he is. It’s a hard feat—the man is six-two, six-three—easy.
Long. Lean. His hair is dark and shortly cropped. He walks with the gait of a man with a purpose.
There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t place it…
I tap Chris’s shoulder for his attention. He looks up at me, and I lean into him.
“Do you see that guy walking back there?”
He glances backwards.
“You mean the guy walking towards the exit?”
“Yeah. He look familiar to you?”
Chris gives another glance over his shoulder, slowing his stride.
“Not particularly. Why? Does he to you?”
“Yeah, I don’t know why. He just kinda looks like… like…” Greg Sears.
I can feel the color drain from my face. “It looks like Sears,” I say to Chris. I stop, focusing my eyes on the man still heading towards the glass doors.
Chris stands still beside me.
“Sears? As in Gregory Sears?”
“Yeah.” I squint harder.
“As in Kat’s ex-boyfriend? Kat’s ex-boss?”
“That’s the one.”
“The asshole who fired her?! The one that Foxx punched right in the…”
“Yes, Chris!” I whisper harshly. “How many other Greg Sears’s do you know?”
We lower our voices with each passing step the man takes. I can’t tell if we want him to hear us… or not. Is it him? And if it is…
What the fuck is he doing in our office building?
I don’t know what to do. Our company isn’t the only one housed in the building, but the coincidence would be too huge to ignore.
We watch the man walk through the first set of glass doors. He approaches the second set.
And when he does, he looks back at us. Directly back at us. And then… he takes off.
I run after him immediately.
My shoes start to slide on the glossy lobby floor because I am hurrying so fast.
I don’t even know why I chase him, but it seems to be a natural urge. The minute someone starts to run from you, your first instinct tells you to take flight.
And that’s exactly what I do.
I chase Gregory Sears out of the office building.
I hear the hasty steps of Chris behind me as I cross the glass-encased lobby. Whether or not he does it out of dutiful loyalty or a similar instinct, I do not know.
In fact, I think very little of it. Suddenly, all I can think about is Sears… and how to get my hands on him.
He races over the small bridge outside of the exit towards the parking deck. I am hot on his heels, the black soles of my shoes slapping melodically across the tile and then across a wooden walkway.
I ignore the rain that has started to fall out of the grey sky. I ignore the slipping of my steps as I race towards the deck—tie and business suit in tow.
I chuck the suit jacket into nearby grass, ducking wildly into the dark parking deck in search of the long and lanky Sears.
My head swivels instinctively, my eyes searching intensely for any motion as my ears and feet follow the sound of Greg’s fading footsteps.
I sprint through a line of cars, hoping to spot him in between them. I turn a corner.
Nothing.
I’ve lost him.
My chest heaves as I turn in circles, whipping the fallen dark hair off of my brow.
Then, the sudden screech of wheels makes me freeze.
A black Benz rounds the bend, barreling towards me. Its lights are on. It’s speeding fast. I know it’s Sears behind the wheel.
I don’t think; I just act.
My stance widens as I confront the racing Benz. Where do you think you’re going? I can feel the look of challenge on my face.
But the Benz never stops. It gets closer to me.
Closer… Closer…
The silver symbol on its front seems to wink at me. The lights beam directly into my face. I see Greg at the helm.
My breathing is surprisingly calm… for a man who’s about to be struck.
The thought jerks me back into sobriety. I dive seconds before Greg can mow me down.
But the dive isn’t graceful; it’s harsh—panicked.
I hit the pavement with an exacting thud, crushing my arms and elbows into cement as I tumble across the lot.
I land, at last, with an explosion of pain in my shoulder. I lean my head back as soon as every part of me comes to a halt.
When I run a hand across my face, I can taste the metallic flavor of blood.
Chris is suddenly at my side as my whereabouts begin to register. He lifts me up into a painful sitting position.
I inspect my body with blurry eyes as the sound of Greg’s peeling wheels fades away. I am bruised, scraped, but not broken. At least, not in body…
In spirit? Well, that’s a different story.
I now have an actual suspect in this evil little chess game… and I just let him go.
Ante Up
The cardinal sin in poker, worse than playing bad cards, worse even than figuring your odds correctly, is becoming emotionally involved. – Katy Lederer
ELENA
“Linda’s calling, Again.”
Ana swings her head into my unorganized bedroom, waving my phone at me from the doorway.
The flash from the phone is as bright as her smile, and it blinks intermittently—almost ominously, signaling an incoming call.
It’s the last thing I need right now.
I’d rather ignore it… and Ana. I continue sitting rigidly on my unmade bed, writing fixatedly while my pink-colored phone case dangles playfully in her hands.
“I put my phone on silent for a reason, Ana. You don’t have to broadcast it.”
I look up from the pages of my little black agenda.
“Or better yet, why don’t you take a message? You’ve gotten awfully good at posting them everywhere around the house.”
My irritation seeps out.
I reach inside my agenda, holding up one of the many Starburst-colored Post-It notes that she’s stuck around the house—each one containing an obvious allusion to the last night that Lukas and I spent together.
Ana smiles. “Not everywhere” she says. “Just everywhere that you would find them.”
I crumble up the Post-It, throwing it in her direction. She dodges it.
“Foxx and Kat are going to find them,” I proclaim.
Ana shrugs. “Doubt it. This is one house that actually is big enough for the both of you… and your egos.”
“Yeah…” I say, flipping a page. “Tell that to Kat.”
“Why don’t you tell her? And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me? What the hell is going on between you two? You haven’t talked since my graduation party. What’s the big secret?”
I stick my head further into my agenda, scribbling even more furiously with my pen. I’m writing so hard that I leave massive imprints on the pages. I almost tear one of them.
“Don’t look at me,” I tell Ana. “Kat’s the one with the secrets.”
“She’s not the only one, Elle… Mind telling me what happened between you and Lukas?”
Riiip. My page splits into two.
“There’s nothing to tell.” I try to appear unaffected. I know it’s not working.
“Right… because you always have Post-It notes stuck to your ass after locking yourself in offices with Greek Gods.”
I point my pen at her.
“Look, Anastasia. I’m a single woman. Whatever I do…or don’t do… is my business. It has no bearing on any other person or thing.�
�
I return to my writing.
“You might want to remind your other sister of that.” I sit up straighter, adjusting the glasses on my face. “In the meantime, I have more important things to worry about—like the date I have tonight…”
Ana gasps, rushing over to my bedside to sit beside me. Her baby blue skirt flaps briefly as she runs, floating gently back on her lap as she takes a seat.
Her eyes are wide. “You mean with…?”
“Yup,” I answer semi-brightly.
It’s the first thing I’ve been able to smile about all week.
“Tonight’s the night. We’re going to have dinner and I think we might even, uh—what’s the phrase—close the deal?”
Ana beams, jokingly slapping at my arm. “Wow, Elle, I’m impressed. I was afraid that you wouldn’t have the balls to do it.”
“You mean ‘the steel-set vagina’ to do it?”
Ana laughs. “Hell yeah, that’s even better. Or how about a ‘brass clit’?”
“Jeez, Ana, you’re so uncouth.”
She taps my nose. “I’ve only learned from the best.”
She keeps talking. “Seriously, Elle. You’re a rock star; I think going out on this limb is amazing. You’re opening yourself up to new things.
“Maybe being with Lukas really has expanded your horizons.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I teasingly sing.
Ana frowns in my face. “Fine. You can ‘Bill Clinton’ me all you want with your ‘sexual relations,’ Miss Elena, but I know what really happened.”
She flashes my own thick, sticky notepad at me.
“And I’ve got the Post-It notes to prove it…”
I shake my head at her. “I will neither confirm nor deny…”
At my answer, Ana pouts with exaggeration, slumping her shoulders and crossing her arms.
UGH.
I decide to throw her a bone.
“But I will tell you this, Ana: If I actually were with Lukas… he’d be better than a fistful of Godiva chocolate…”
She perks up immediately. “Better than a boxful of Mom’s brownies?”
“Much better.”
“Oh, damn. He must be good, then.”
“Like I said… I will neither confirm nor deny.”
Ana nods with uninhibited approval, momentarily giddy from the information I’ve just shared. But then she pauses. Her expression falls.
“What’s up, Anastasia?”
“Nothing... it’s just all this talk about Griff, you know.” She shifts on the bed. “Elle, I really want this shot with Tripping Out! and I need to work with him.
“Foxx handles the journalism, Chris handles the business, and Griff... well, he works everything behind the scenes. He’s the life-blood of Tripping Out! He handles all of its tech stuff.
“I need him to know that I can contribute to Tripping Out!—the media, the website, the IT security.”
“How can I convince him?” she asks herself, chewing absently on the pad of her thumb. “Maybe if I can bribe him with a treat…” She raises an eyebrow.
My pen freezes and I look up at Ana—deadpan. “You’d better be talking about those damn brownies.”
“I just don’t know what to do, Elle. I don’t know how to get through to him. He just always seems… preoccupied.”
My curiosity spikes. I sneak a peek at Ana’s face from behind my agenda’s cover.
“Is something wrong with him?”
“No, I don’t think so…” she replies. “I mean, I always thought that Chris was the ‘worry wart’ of the bunch, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. I think he’s got a girlfriend…”
I cough involuntarily, and my question comes out as a croak.
“Lukas?”
But Ana’s too distracted by her own thoughts to notice my discomfort.
“No, not Griff. Chris. I’ve caught him talking to the same lady a few times in his office—some woman named Trina. You know, one of those mouth-breather, bimbo types?”
“I’m sorry… Mouth… Breather?”
Ana looks directly at me this time. “Yeah, you know…” She bats her eyelashes, affecting a breathy Marilyn Monroe-tone. “All this ‘Chris, I don’t know where I’d be without you…’ or ‘Chris, you’re so helpful and kind’.”
I stifle a laugh.
“It’s so annoying, actually. I wonder: Can this Trina chick actually inhale and exhale through her nose like a normal person?”
She shakes her head of long, light brown hair and shrugs a shoulder.
“Or maybe her brain needs all the oxygen it can get.”
Trina. I chew on my pen. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
I squint harder at Ana, suppressing a grin. “Uh oh. Sounds like someone’s jealous.”
She snorts softly. “Jealous? I’m not jealous... I mean, I guess I’d say Chris is… kinda cute in a Frodo Baggins sort of way, but I don’t want him the way you want…”
I flash her a menacing look.
“Godiva,” she finishes. “And if you were to ask me, I’d say Godiva wants you even more.”
I take a long breath, thinking about… Godiva—wishing it were that simple. A chocolate craving would be the least of my worries.
It’s all the other cravings that are turning my world upside down.
I finally grab my phone from Ana’s hands.
“I’m probably the last thing that… Godiva wants or needs right now.”
I check the time display on my phone.
“Shit, I’m running out of time. I need to get to the restaurant, but I wanted to go get my poor Aphrodite a check-up first.” I tap my pen on the front of my teeth.
“Aphrodite?” Ana pipes up. She claps her hands together. “I’ll take care of Aphrodite.”
“Ana…”
“Elle, trust me, I’ve got you. I love Aphrodite as if she were my own. She’s my baby, too.”
I slam my agenda closed, looking curiously at her.
“This is probably how you sucker Lukas, huh? Draw him in with your fast-talking and sweet, pretty eyes? Only he doesn’t know that devil that lies behind them. I do.”
“Come on, Elle… don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
Her pretty face is eager and anticipant. Sometimes, she looks so young, like the child she once was. But she isn’t anymore.
She’s a grown woman now. She’s responsible. She deserves my trust.
I relent.
“Ok, all the information you’ll need is in the top drawer of my desk. Don’t have her out too late. And remember… she is the goddess of Love, so treat her with some.”
Ana hops excitedly off of the bed and towards the door. “Noooo problem.”
But when she reaches it, she stops. She turns slowly toward me, looking pensive.
“Hey, Elle. Maybe I was wrong about Godiva. Maybe what you have now isn’t Godiva; maybe… it’s Nestle.”
“Nestle?”
“Yeah,” she states firmly. “You know I’m no good with metaphors. Nestle, Ghirardelli, Lindt… I just mean something else. Something different. Something addictive and delicious that you’ve never had before.”
She starts to back her way out of the room.
“Either way… don’t you think it’s time for a goddamned change?”
***
Saturday night fucking blows.
Showing up to the restaurant for my date fails to lift my spirits.
In fact, it does the opposite.
I can’t stop thinking about what Ana said to me, and I can’t stop thinking about how complicated my life has suddenly become.
I stretch my arms above my head to roll the tension out of my shoulders.
I stifle a yawn, checking my watch. Seven o’clock—and I’m already damn near ready for bed.
For fuck’s sake, I’m in one of the fanciest bistros I’ve ever seen, and yet I am dressed like someone’s secretary.
My hair is pinn
ed up, and my glasses are on. My makeup is minimal, and my skirt’s too long.
I guess I don’t care. I haven’t really cared much about anything in the last, long week.
I’ve stared at the four walls of my room longer than any normal twenty-seven year old ever should.
And I must say: It’s been the loneliest seven days of my entire life.
What do you do—when your closest friend’s words no longer comfort you, your own sister won’t do anything but fight with you, and you’re engaged in a silent stalemate with the finest man you’ve ever fucked?
Get drunk, I guess. And try to come up with a plan—which is exactly why I dragged my librarian-looking ass out here tonight.
Might as well make the best out of the situation, right?
I swirl my latest glass of wine under my nose. The alcohol no longer appeals to me, but I try not to think about it.
I don’t want to smell it or even taste it. I need to feel it.
Just for a second. Just for this one night—so that I can go through the motions, go home… and stare at even more dry walls.
And even though I have some company at my table, I’m more alone than I’ve ever been.
I really do miss Linda. I miss Kat. And if I’m being honest with myself, I even miss… Godiva.
I’m handed the small piece of paper. I look over it briefly, nodding my head at its content.
I already know what it says, but I scan its text anyway. I sign where the “X” is before sliding it to the table’s center.
A buzz in my lap makes me drop the pen in my hand. I grasp for the pen first. I reach in my lap second… and regret it the instant I do.
It’s my phone… and it’s Lukas.
His contact entry flashes across my screen amidst a black background.
Elena Lexington decides to ignore it; unfortunately, Hogue Late Harvest White Riesling decides otherwise.
The Asshole:
Drunk text.
I look over to the other side of the table. Now that the evening is almost wrapped, I find that I’m not the only one engrossed in her phone.
I reply quicker than I probably should.
Fire-breathing Dragon:
What is this—a warning?
The Asshole:
Hour by Hour (Games & Diversions #2) Page 6
