by Alexa Day
Even if his involvement with it ended today.
St. Cloud stamped Grace’s file and John slowly exhaled through his nose. He was pretty sure he hadn’t given them a reason to examine Grace’s file any further and soon he’d be in the clear as well. After all the weeks his stomach had been twisted into knots over this, it was almost over.
St. Cloud piled the three files on top of each other. “Well…you’ve given us a great deal to think about.”
John tried to sound neither eager nor apprehensive, desperate to keep his relief from showing on his face or in his voice. “So what happens now?”
“This is the last day of our data compiling phase.” Davenport stood. “We’ll compile our findings over the next few days. There’ll be a meeting sometime after that, when we’ll issue the results.”
Hearing his cue to leave, John rose and shook the proffered hands. He risked a last glance at the files. The number 3258 stood out and he tried not to stare at it. He’d done everything he could about this now. The knowledge made the next step bearable.
“Thanks so much,” said Davenport.
“Thank you,” he answered.
* * * * *
All he wanted now, at the very end of the worst day of his career, was to go home. He’d wanted so much more just a few hours ago—a nice drink, a long shower—but somewhere along the way he became willing to settle. When the mere promise of the drink made him feel languid and sleepy, he’d dropped the idea entirely. On the way out of Neil’s office, he became willing to postpone the shower until tomorrow morning. He’d have to deal with the consequences from today at some point. But that would wait. All that mattered right now, on the way to the car, was getting home tonight and sleeping in tomorrow.
He trudged across the asphalt expanse of the parking lot toward a car that never seemed to get closer. Was that even his car? Something about it seemed strange. He hoped he hadn’t actually parked on the other side of the building. He didn’t think he could bear the walk all the way around to the back lot.
Well, it was too long a walk to take for nothing. Better to make sure that wasn’t his car before he committed to going around back. He remembered parking here in front. Sort of.
As he got closer to the car, he realized why he’d had such trouble recognizing it. That shape he saw…it was a silhouette. He’d driven past them in the county before, a shape that was supposed to be a cowboy leaning against a fence post or something. God, how long had it taken him to figure out it was a cow—
A man. A man sat on his car, one hip resting on the hood, his foot propped up on the bumper.
That was crazy though. Who would—
Oh shit.
“How we doing tonight, Einstein? Working late?”
Tal crossed his arms over his chest. In his jacket and jeans, he looked like a bouncer for a nightclub that was at once casual and exclusive.
John tried to formulate the most intelligent of his questions. “How did you—”
Tal interrupted him with a question of his own. “Cut the shit, buddy. Where’s Grace?”
John’s lethargy sizzled away like drops of water on a hot frying pan. “What?”
Tal got off the car, which lurched upward once relieved of his weight. “Where is Grace?”
Didn’t he know? “I don’t—what are you talking about?”
“Let me use some real small words. I haven’t seen Grace since you were both at my place. She hasn’t called. She hasn’t come by. She won’t pick up when I call her.” Tal took his jacket off and tossed it at the car, the way people did on TV just before they came to blows. “I kind of feel like you must have hurt her. Remember what I said would happen if you hurt her?”
No longer exhausted, but not at all enthusiastic about fighting Tal here in the parking lot after hours, John called on all of his depleted resources to keep from taking a step backward. “Tal, the last time I saw her was last night, right before she went to see you.”
Some, but not all, of the fury seemed to drain from Tal. “To see me?”
John nodded. “Yeah. So maybe it’s your ass.”
“Don’t get cute with me, Einstein.” Tal began to pace, his hands balled into fists. John watched him complete a tight circle and then another in the opposite direction before coming to a stop with his back turned. “How do you know she came to see me?”
“She left in a hurry, like she usually does when she’s going to see you.” Unease took hold of John as his imagination raced through all the reasons she might not have made it to Tal. “You’ve been getting together on Thursdays, haven’t you?”
Tal lifted his face toward the streetlamp. “Shit.”
“What?” John watched Tal rest his hands on his hips, heard him blow a long breath out into the dark. “What, dammit?”
“I was out last night.”
“All night?”
“No.” Tal leveled his gaze at John. “Just out.”
John shook his head in disgusted amazement. “Out with another woman.”
“Not like that, dammit.”
Unbelievable. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“Do not start that shit with me,” said Tal. “Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen. She’s a friend.”
“You have a lot of friends.”
Tal closed the distance between them in two strides. Damn, he was fast. “You know what?” His voice had taken on that lethal quality from that night in the loft. “Life was really simple before you turned up with your magic pills. Everybody understood what was going on and everybody was happy. Except maybe you.”
“Really?” John almost embraced the surge of anger as it rushed up inside him. “How happy was Grace, really?”
“The fuck do you know about it? You think you can do it better?” Tal gestured behind him, toward the gate he’d somehow gotten through. “Go do it better.”
John locked eyes with him and the two stood, toe-to-toe, long enough for John to consider and reject the possibility of taking a swing at him while they were alone in the deserted parking lot. John’s BlackBerry chimed, breaking the tense silence, and he knew without looking that it was Grace. He knew it without proof, in his bones, just as he knew that Tal could never find out what Grace now had to say. She’d chosen him, even if it was just for this text, and whatever she was now starting, John meant to finish.
He looked up at Tal. “I’ll call her.”
Tal didn’t budge. “Tonight.”
John nodded. “Okay. Tonight.”
“Good.” Tal took two steps back toward the car. “That’s all I wanted.”
John didn’t think that was true, but now wasn’t the time. “Tal, how’d you get back here, anyway?”
“I didn’t drive. Your fancy security gate can only stop you if you drive.” Tal’s smile betrayed not even a hint of humor. “Besides, your rent-a-cop is a client. He was going to look the other way if he had to.” He took his jacket off the hood and pulled it on. “You better take care of this tonight. I don’t have time to keep coming back here.”
Tal turned and walked off into the night, heading toward the fence that had failed to keep him out. John leaned against his car and watched until Tal was out of sight before checking the message on his BlackBerry. Grace’s electronic pidgin greeted him.
R u @ work? Can u meet me @ Bank?
The message, devoid of her usual breeziness but still more urgent than her typical impromptu invitations, solidified his conviction that Tal had somehow added to her troubles.
But now she needed him. She’d chosen him. His fatigue faded into memory as he answered her text.
On my way. I’ll let you know when I get there.
Chapter Nine
As soon as things got back to normal, Grace was going back to arriving late. She’d ended up waiting for John twice in two days now and as far as she could tell, showing up early just gave her more time to think, which meant more time to question herself. Knowing that John was ahead of her gave her some me
asure of comfort, even though he didn’t do anything specific to prepare for her. His presence somehow encouraged her to relax.
Maybe you just don’t like standing around by yourself.
From her perch at the edge of Bank’s cigar loft, which was busy at this hour without being crowded, Grace watched the multitude surge around the central island of the bar on the main floor below. A few minutes ago, the lights had dimmed and the late-dinner crowd had shifted gears to become the first wave of the party throng. Not long ago, she’d have passed the time with the population downstairs, sizing up the local talent, enjoying the choice between the straitlaced bankers and lawyers and the younger set on their way to the club.
Tonight she wasn’t feeling it. In fairness, she hadn’t felt it in some time. Once she’d felt like a predator in the world of men. Now with a veritable sea of them just downstairs, she didn’t really care that much. The world of men had shrunk down to Tal and John.
She couldn’t blame all that on the pills though. Impulse made her situation clearer, but she’d really gotten into this bind all by herself.
Her BlackBerry vibrated in her hand and she checked the message there. I’m downstairs. Where are you?
She’d hated to drag John all the way downtown, but she couldn’t go back to his place. Not with the memory of being close to him still so fresh in her mind, and not as long as she daydreamed of a future she could never have with him. If she took him to her place…
Well, that was out of the question. He hadn’t been there since the night she’d kissed him in the hallway. No, she couldn’t go through that again.
No. She just needed to set everything straight once and for all. This wasn’t exactly neutral ground, but it wasn’t as loaded as either of their homes would be.
She answered his text, letting him know she was upstairs in the cigar loft. Despite the dim light, she saw him way down there, making his way through the crowd, sidestepping a tight circle of young women whose lingering stares followed him as he moved. Did he really not notice that they were watching him the way a cat studied a goldfish? She knew he was more worried than usual, and God love him, John was always a little worried. It was cute, really, the way he seemed to think through everything that could happen before he made a decision. She wanted to pat his hand or push his hair away from his forehead and tell him everything would work out.
As if that would help. She’d probably never stop him from worrying. She might not even really want to. She loved watching his mind work and knowing that he’d taken everything into account, left nothing to chance. She could use a little of that herself. She’d gotten herself into more than enough trouble by not thinking far enough ahead. All this excitement and surprise and spontaneity carried a hefty price tag.
He emerged from the stairs and she offered him a smile that felt unconvincing before meeting him halfway for a hug. “Hey.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the noise. “I’m sorry to drag you out here on a Friday night.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He glanced over toward the bar in the corner of the room. “Your timing’s good, actually. I could use a drink.”
Grace struggled unsuccessfully against the temptation to turn this into just another drink with her friend. “Another bad day on the job?”
“Possibly the worst of days.” For a moment, he watched the bartender almost wistfully, and she hoped he would take the bait. But then he turned back to her. “That’s not why we’re here though. Is it?”
Damn. She was going to have to go through with this, wasn’t she?
They’d have to keep shouting if they stayed here. “Let’s go downstairs. I don’t want to yell.”
They began to make their way down the narrow stairs to the main floor. She let John lead the way, making a path for her as they fought the growing press of people coming up past them. About halfway down, where the stairs turned a corner at a landing, he reached for her and when she let her fingers entwine with and then be engulfed by his, treacherous warmth bloomed at her center.
God. If only there was another way to deal with this.
She knew the entrance would be crowded with people trying to get in. Even if there was room for the two of them to have a conversation on the front steps, what she had to say wasn’t for public consumption. At the foot of the stairs, she tugged his hand and led him through the door between the kitchen and the men’s bathroom, a forbidden exit to an equally illicit place—a concrete slab between a Dumpster, a loading dock and concrete stairs. Two white-shirted cooks leaned against the brick wall, standing over a pile of cigarette butts. Where the steps met the alley built from worn cobblestones, three barely legal girls in painted-on minidresses waved their cigarettes around in time with their conversation. Grace’s ears rang from the noise they’d escaped, but the impromptu smoking patio would be quiet enough and private enough to serve her purposes.
She pulled John halfway down the stairs and stopped to lean against the metal banister. She took a deep breath of chilly air, gathering her resolve, before saying, “I didn’t really tell you everything last night.”
Without releasing her hand, he came down one step, moving as if he were next in line for a flu shot. When she was between him and the railing, so close that she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around his waist, he asked, “What didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you how Impulse makes you kind of crazy,” she said. “I said it took away everything but the sex. And I told you that kissing you was different from kissing Tal.” Now that she’d started this dreaded conversation, words all but fell out of her. “I didn’t tell you that I wondered what would have happened if Tal hadn’t been there. I started thinking about it when I kissed you in that crazy frame of mind, and John, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He turned away from her, looking down the stairs, and all at once it occurred to her that he was contrite. Ready to apologize for something she couldn’t imagine but which was probably her fault. She squeezed his hand until he met her gaze again, grateful for the moment’s delay but anxious to get this off her chest. “All I want— All I wanted from Tal was the sex. But with you…all I could think about was what might happen next. I want a next morning. An afterward. A future.” She swallowed hard and hoped her voice stayed level. “I always have.”
His grip on her hand loosened, but not enough to release her. The glare from the streetlamp nearby made his expression hard to read—his face betrayed little emotion, and his glasses kept her from seeing his eyes. When he opened his mouth, she pressed her fingertips to his lips, unable to face another gentle rejection. “I know. You were always straight with me. This is just an experiment and I am so grateful to you for letting me do this. But I can’t walk away without saying this to you. And I can’t go forward as long as this is between us.”
She let go of his hand to rummage through her coat pocket for the last of her pills. She thought she could hear them shaking in the blister pack when she tucked them into his pocket. “I’m so sorry. I feel like I’m letting you down too.” She hugged him close, squeezing until her hands stopped shaking, and breathed in the sweet warmth of his hair before she kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much for letting me do this. I wish I could see it through with you.”
Grace caressed his face as she moved away from him. When he didn’t turn toward her, she knew she’d surprised him, and under any other circumstances—say, if they were talking about anyone else in the world—she’d stay to talk this through with him.
Later. They’d talk later. If she stayed, she’d start to cry.
He was staring off into the dark beyond the banister, reaching into his pocket, when she turned and jogged up the stairs.
She wanted a future. She always had.
Always? Since she’d kissed him in her hallway?
Before?
As long as he had?
Who cares? Always is now.
And now, while he’d been rationalizing all of this, trying to decide whether to pinch himself or ask he
r to say it another two or three hundred times or do something so crazy he hadn’t thought of it yet, he’d let her run off.
He snapped his attention back to the door she’d run through. She hadn’t been thinking clearly either. She’d run for the front door and about thirty thousand people would be between her and the street. He could still catch her.
John jogged down the stairs, nearly bouncing off the trio of girls on his way into the alley behind the club. Quickly but carefully he darted over smooth, slick cobblestones behind one building and then another until he arrived on the sidewalk. He turned toward Main Street and headed uphill with long, purposeful strides. He couldn’t suppress a grin. That hadn’t taken long at all. She probably hadn’t gotten to—
Shit, there she was. He started to run to catch her.
“Grace!” Heads turned and he shouldered past people as they ducked out of his way. Damn. Had she even heard him? She was still just far enough away, turning the corner away from him. He dodged a car in the intersection, ignoring the horn, not looking back. “Grace!”
She looked over her shoulder and he ran, hoping for the first time in his life that he was making a spectacle of himself, that she would see him and wait.
Once he’d caught up to her, she said, “Don’t try to talk me out of this.”
“I’m not.”
She frowned. This must have been what he looked like on the stairs a moment ago, thrown off and cautious. “Aren’t you?”
“No. God. I’m not even thinking about that.” He started to take a deep breath before launching into what was on his mind, that huge, convoluted catalog of things, but he ended up swallowing against his stomach’s slow, queasy barrel roll. “I gave it up.”
Still frowning, she asked, “Gave what up?”
“Impulse, Grace. I gave it up.”
Actually doing it had been simple to do, if painful. He’d thought telling her he’d done it would be just as simple, but the carefully considered plan he’d designed last night suddenly seemed like nonsense.
