“I’m not so sure,” I dispute. “I’d feel more comfortable up in my suite. I do not want to be thrown back into a large space with a lot of people. It just doesn’t make sense to me.” I look towards Gail for her support.
“I hate to admit it, but I agree with Ms. Harper,” Gail adds.
“Not a good idea,” Dante overrides us. “If something were to go down up there, who’s around to hear? Who’s around to help?”
The head of security overhears our conversation and joins in. “Hotel room invasions are most likely to happen during the day when rooms and entire floors are unoccupied. They tend to probe the hotel looking for the right room and the right opportunity. In fact, we’re moving your room to one closer to the elevator. We know you originally requested a private suite that’s well secluded, but those rooms are targets for intruders. These are all small concessions we feel you need to make in order for us to provide you with the best security possible during your stay.”
“And the poolside cabana is completely private?” Gail asks.
“It is,” the head of security promises. “It’s well staffed and there’s a check-in station where all guests must provide identification before entering. Only guests with prearranged reservations will be allowed access.”
“Then by all means, lead the way,” Gail instructs.
Secure in the knowledge that we are safely tucked in for the remainder of the day, Dante excuses himself and leaves. Gail stops him, whispers something in his ear, and I see her palming him a tip. If I had the wherewithal and clarity of thought, I would have done it myself. But truth be told, I’m still a little shaken by the whole incident.
We are escorted to the private pool and just as promised, Gail and I are prompted to show identification. The attendant takes down our information and directs us towards our private cabana. I wish I had discovered this place sooner. Our private and exclusive enclave sits atop a stunning stone pool deck on the second floor with an amazing view of the ocean.
It’s stocked with everything we could possibly need – a flat screen T.V., ceiling fans, chaise loungers, a table and chairs. It even provides WiFi and a fully stocked mini-fridge. And all of this luxury is provided within the walls of a canvas-walled structure.
Gail’s first task is to send our poolside concierge on a mission. Handing off her Visa card, she asks the extremely accommodating assistant to run to the hotel lobby and purchase each of us a swimsuit. While I wait for her return, I make some necessary phone calls, beginning with one to my brother to update him on what’s happened.
The first thing he does is to scan some of the self-portraits Paul has sent me and forwards them to the local police and hotel security. If Paul were to make the foolish misstep of showing up here, there would be no mistaking him from this point forward.
My new bathing suit arrives at the same time as our lunch. It’s only noon and I feel like I’ve had a full day already. Once Gail and I change and eat, we begin to unwind and enjoy our stay.
Needing to stretch my legs, I decide to go for a walk around the pool area. There are no less than ten other cabanas, and I can’t help but hasten a glance inside each as I pass by. A few are occupied by families, but most are being rented by couples and I imagine some of them may even be here on their honeymoon.
It is romantic and tranquil. I sit on the edge of the pool dangling my feet in the refreshing crystal blue water and my mind races with possibilities. Liam and Suzi could easily honeymoon here in my next book. This place is brimming with ideas.
But something unexpected happens to my imaginings. As I eye a couple lounging in the sun, my mind’s eye puts me there alongside Cole in their place. I imagine him untying the string on my bikini and rubbing lotion on my back. I picture crawling up onto the lounge chair with him, nestling myself between his legs as he locks his strong arms around me, cradling me as the sun sets.
Whoa! Where did that come from?
Casting these images aside, I return to the cabana for a little relief from the sun. And some distance from the happy couples, too.
Despite the picturesque beauty, I can’t help but fixate on today’s encounter. I finally met Paul and he’s every bit as scary and delusional as I had feared. Had it not been for the crowds and security, who knows exactly what his intentions were.
I run through scenario after scenario of what might have happened like a bad horror movie running in a loop in my head. This is one of the problems of having an over-active imagination. The same sort of imagination that has made me a successful writer.
My musings are interrupted by the familiar face of the head of the hotel’s security team. This time, he introduces himself as Daniel Kim. His face is solemn and I don’t think he’s here to brighten our day.
He takes a seat at our small table and motions for me to join him. “I just want to inform you ladies that about forty minutes ago, a man fitting the description you gave us was spotted attempting to enter the hotel. The front desk staff recognized him immediately based on the images that were sent to us, and we had him removed from the premises.”
I want to go home. I can’t stay here, not for one more moment. I jump up from my seat and rummage through my bag that I’ve had with me all day looking for my iPad. My hands are shaking so badly that it’s nearly impossible to hit the right keys. “Fuck!” I toss the useless device to the side. Turning to Daniel, I ask in the calmest voice I can muster, “Can you get someone to arrange a flight home for me? I have an American Express card. I need to get out of here.”
“Yes, of course we can help you with that.” He waits while I fumble looking for my card, which I pass to him. “Give me a few minutes to work out the details. So long as you’re here at the hotel with us, you have my assurances that you will remain perfectly safe.”
I laugh at the humor in his statement. Perfectly safe? This situation is anything but safe and nearly as far away from perfect as possible. Does Daniel really believe that?
He slips away with my card and sends over someone to see if we would like to order anything while we wait. “I’d like a Zombie, please,” I tell her.
“Make it two,” Gail chimes in, shrugging her shoulders.
I look at her and ask, “Don’t you think someone should remain sober right now?”
“Absolutely,” she agrees. “And I’d like to think that Daniel’s not drinking on the job, so we should be fine.”
I have a few hours until the next flight out, so Gail and I spend it in uncomfortable silence watching the news and thumbing mindlessly through some magazines scattered around the cabana.
When it’s finally time to gather my things and prepare to leave this island for good, for the first time in hours, I begin to calm. My bags have been brought to the lobby and a cab has been hailed and is waiting for me right outside the front doors.
One quick trip to the restroom, and I can put this nightmare behind me. I walk down the narrow hallway leading to the ladies’ room and cautiously open the door to find it empty. I turn around to make sure Gail’s not too far away. She’s talking to our new friend Daniel, collecting my credit card, and making the final payment on my short stay at the hotel.
While in the stall, I hear someone enter the restroom and occupy the stall next to me. Still on edge, I wait until I hear the door close behind them before exiting. I turn to find the hand sanitizer and my heart stops at the sight before me. Paul is standing inside the restroom, blocking the door.
I know what I’m supposed to do in situations like this – yell and scream at the top of my lungs. Philip’s shown me more than once how to defend myself. I know where to kick and how to stop an aggressor. But when Paul charges at me with an evil look in his eye, I hesitate long enough for him to grab a hold of me by the neck and push me back into my stall.
At that moment, I find my voice and I scream louder than anyone’s ever screamed before, which only angers him more. He finds the strength to lift me off my feet and slam my head against the tiled wall so hard that everyth
ing around me begins to blur and I fear I may lose consciousness.
In the fog that follows, I see images racing past me. Daniel forcibly removing Paul. Gail rushing to my aid. Police, first aid, and more security. I hear Gail hollering at Daniel asking him how he could let this happen. And I hear something about needing stitches in the back of my head. After that, everything goes black.
CHAPTER 3
Six Months Later
“YOU WORK TOO HARD,” a familiar voice calls from behind me. I’m standing in the middle of shelves of books alphabetizing them by author and title. “We have a staff. You know that – you hired them yourself.”
I turn to find my best friend and business partner, Caitlin James, standing before me in her usual attire of a tight form-fitting tee and khaki short-shorts, her thick dark hair pinned up and falling loosely around her face, and her hands planted firmly on her slim hips. Cait glares at me with critical eyes.
There’s no point in trying to guess what might have her angry with me this time, so I just come right out and ask. “What did I do now?”
She shakes her head and takes in a deep breath. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You come here every morning at the crack of dawn and stay until the last customer leaves. This isn’t a life, it’s an existence and it’s gone on long enough.”
“Maybe,” I reluctantly admit, “but I like it here. I feel safe. Content. Peaceful.”
Cait rolls her eyes and taps her perfectly manicured nails on a bookshelf, her rich dark hair sparkling with caramel highlights. “Kenny, you can’t hide in here forever. Eventually, you’re going to have to get out there and live a little, you know. Come out with us tonight.”
With a wisp of cool ocean breeze, the third member of our close-knit trio enters, Brie Hayes. I hear her before I see her thanks to the myriad of bracelets she has clanging on her wrist and the hodgepodge of necklaces of all different sizes. She is a true Boho hipster, but still manages to turn heads with her long strawberry blond hair and soulful green eyes.
“Hey guys, isn’t it a beautiful day? What’s up?”
“I’m just trying to get our resident hermit to step out of her shell for one night,” Cait explains.
Brie waves her off. “You can’t make her do anything she’s not ready for. Making her feel bad isn’t going to help, you know.”
Cait turns on her heels and walks away, but Brie wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “Soon, right?”
I nod. “Soon. Thanks, Brie. Love you, girl.”
Brie heads off to check on things, leaving me to finish my task.
We’re a ragtag group, different in so many ways, but as close as any group of friends could be. We were thrown together as roommates in college and have been together ever since. These girls have become part of my family . . . a dysfunctional family for sure, but in the best possible way.
The three of us have been completely inseparable ever since that horrible day in Honolulu. I had a difficult decision to make – walk away from an incredibly lucrative career or ignore the danger and continue to write. I knew that no matter which path I chose, Brie and Cait would be there for me.
I suppose having a police detective for a big brother was a huge influence on my decision. He’s seen the absolute worst side of humanity and he knows better than anyone how dangerous life can be.
Paul and his mother were arrested and I pressed criminal charges against them both. Because this was his first offence, he was given a plea deal that allowed his mother to go free, Paul sentenced to ten to twelve months in prison along with two year’s probation.
My brother learned that Paul and his mother were also suspects in a missing person case involving a young girl who worked at a stripper bar in Ohio. But since nothing was proven and no charges were filed, it was inadmissible in court.
Given his history, my decision was an easy one to make. I had to walk away. At least for now.
So when the three of us sat down to hatch out a plan, a beautiful vision bloomed, one that included each of us bringing our varied talents, skills, and passions into one endeavor. TitleWave Bookstore and Coffee Shop is the brainchild of our combined dreams and hopes.
Cait is our Operations Manager. She earned her MBA while we were at NYU and has been working as a consultant to small business owners since graduation. I have never known anyone more competitive than Caitlin James and she quickly accepted the challenge, ready to test her abilities and talents by starting her very own business.
Brie, our free spirit, has been making her way in the world ever since she was old enough to work. Flitting from job to job, she finally settled in as a barista at Starbucks, working her way through college while earning a degree in Nutrition with a concentration in Global Public Health. She’s in charge of all our food and beverages.
As for me, I’m in charge of the bookstore. I get to put my English Lit degree to good use while keeping myself surrounded by what I love – books.
The three of us thought we would be opening up this incredible storefront somewhere in Manhattan. But Philip had other ideas. He wanted to keep a close eye on me. He and his wife Megan live and work in Point Pleasant – a happy little hamlet situated at the heart of the Jersey Shore.
I meant it when I told Cait I feel safe here, and it’s not just because of Philip. For as long as I can remember, my parents would pack up my brother and me and bring us down to the shore. We rented a bungalow in Lavalette for a whole month each summer. Philip and I spent countless days at the beach and we would split our nights between the boardwalks at Seaside, Point Pleasant, and Asbury Park.
I knew I could start over here.
Starting over meant cutting all ties with my previous life – including my connection with my agent and ally, Gail. In her last managerial act, she helped me connect with a top-notch real estate agent to guide me through the treacherous pitfalls of commercial property acquisition.
Little did I know that the cost of opening a business on the boardwalk at the shore is nearly as expensive as starting one right in the heart of Manhattan. Apparently, even leasing ocean front commercial property costs a small fortune. In the end, I found an old putt-putt golf shack and its neighboring souvenir shop that needed a ton of work.
August Deegan, Gail’s amazingly talented real estate agent, worked out a gem of a deal that I couldn’t refuse. He negotiated a stellar Tenant Improvement Allowance that made it possible for me to pay for all the needed construction while keeping the month-to-month lease fees at a minimum.
I was able to finance the construction using my royalties from “Before I Forget” and “After the Storm”. I even had enough left to purchase a house close by. Not bad for a twenty-five-year old.
My house. I love the sound of that. It had to be large enough for the three of us to share, but not so large that I couldn’t eventually live in it alone.
August, or Auggie as he insisted I call him, helped me find a house not far from the boardwalk. Like the commercial property, it needed work. But hard work is not something that I’m afraid of.
So on the same day I signed a lease for the shop, I also closed on my house.
And only six weeks ago, TitleWave opened right on the boardwalk in Point Pleasant. I spend nearly all my waking hours here.
By the time I finish checking on all the displays, I notice Brie walking towards me holding an iced caramel macchiato, my absolute favorite. She’s got the biggest, brightest smile and her long blonde hair hangs in loose curls across her shoulders.
“I’ve been thinking. Cait is right – you need to get out of this place. Get some sun and a little vitamin D. You’d be amazed how much better you’ll feel. Come hang out with me in the coffee shop.” She looks at me with big, puppy dog eyes. “We can go sit outside and soak up some rays.”
I look down at my pale skin. I can’t stand the way my clothes that once fit me perfectly now hang on me like someone’s sad hand-me-downs. “Okay. Lead the way.”
The boardwalk is bustling with activity. Fami
lies eager to sample every ride and explore each arcade scurry past. Young mothers on a walk, pushing a carriage or stroller, come for the fresh sea air. Older couples in the twilight of their lives stroll the boardwalk hand-in-hand making laps from end-to-end and back again, trying to keep fit and strong.
Brie sits back in her chair. “So Kenny, have you heard anything at all about . . . you know . . . those people?”
“Nope, not a word.”
“And your fanmail? Any more creepy letters?”
“Gail Walters and Breakaway Publishing are handling all of Kensington Layne’s public relations. They actually hired someone to take over the blog and answer all the fan mail. Anything questionable goes right to Philip.”
“But you’re Kensington Layne,” she argues.
“Not any more. Now, I’m just Kensington Harper, small business owner extraordinaire.”
Lately, at only twenty-five years old, it feels as if I’ve aged a hundred years.
I stand in front of my mirror. The woman gazing back is hardly recognizable. Light hair scraped back in a ponytail. Makeup smudged. Shadows etched under the eyes. Full lips, high cheekbones. I’ve lost more weight, so the once new T-shirt hangs a bit loose over my shoulders. I look harder. My usual vivid hazel eyes are . . . empty. The spark has disappeared, and only a dull light reflects back at me. When did this happen?
I once craved knowledge and experiences and wonder. But over the past six months, all I’ve known has been crippling fear. The knowledge that the world isn’t a safe place haunts me.
Fake it until you make it is my new mantra. I will put one foot in front of the other and move forward. Until I’m ready to live again. Without concern and without hesitation.
I pull up to Philip’s house for dinner. He and his wife Megan live in a small gray house on a tree-lined street just a few blocks from the local park. It’s the perfect place to start a family.
Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1) Page 4
