by Robin Kaye
Rocki smiled and sat back in the chair. “It will take her at least that long to get her big-girl panties on to do what needs to be done.”
“Storm doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can’t go all the way to Auckland. What if he tells me to get lost?”
“Then you find a nice beach, drink too many umbrella drinks, and have your way with a hot cabana boy. Next question?”
Patrice waved away Rocki’s suggestion. “Bree, what if he doesn’t? Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering if you could have gotten him back?”
“Patrice, I’ve never gone any farther away from home than the Jersey Shore. I’ve never been on a plane. My mother will have a heart attack.”
Rocki smirked. “Only if you tell her. But then, maybe you should. After she gets out of ICU, she could recuperate in the psych ward. It would do her good.”
Rocki evaded Patrice’s punch. “What the hell do you think I am, a Bozo the Clown Bop Bag, for heck’s sake?”
Patrice laughed. “If only.”
“Hey, I just say what everyone else thinks.”
“You need a filter.”
“Bree has a filter. She’s filtered her entire life, and look where it’s gotten her. Face it—sometimes you just have to put everything you got out there and screw the consequences. Sometimes you have to jump and trust someone else to catch you. Sometimes you have to put your dignity aside and beg. And earth to Bree—this is one of those times.”
CHAPTER 21
Bree got out of bed with the knowledge that Storm was still in the air. She thought about him every second. Every minute put more distance between them; every hour the pain of her loss increased. She’d held a slim hope he’d land in LA, turn around, and come home. If he had, he’d have been home by now. He wasn’t.
She hadn’t slept. Oh, she’d tried—she’d drowned her sorrows with more than a half bottle of wine until she figured out it only served to make pacing and mental self-flagellation more dangerous. She’d never realized how many things there were in her apartment to run into.
Now, not only did she feel as if she’d gone nine rounds with a heavyweight prizefighter; she also had a few new bruises to add to her collection.
There was nowhere in her world she could go that didn’t bring back memories of Storm. Her shower, her bed, every room of Pete’s apartment, the bar, heck, even the grocery store. Together they’d walked D.O.G. down every block in Red Hook. She’d started running with Storm, so even Carroll Gardens wasn’t safe. There was nowhere to escape the memory of him, and after fourteen hours, she was tired of fighting it, especially since it did no good. She stood in the shower and let the memories flow. She leaned against the tile wall and cried until the water went cold; then she went downstairs, grabbed the morning paper, and headed to work.
Tossing the paper on her desk, she poured her first cup of coffee, popped a few Excedrin in her mouth, and looked at the paper as she took her first sip. She choked on both the pills and the headline.
RED HOOK ROCKED BY SCANDAL.
KNICKERBOCKER DUPES CITY IN HARBOR
PIER PROJECT SCAM.
“Scam?” The air whooshed from her lungs as she started coughing, sputtering, and choking on her coffee. She slammed her mug on the cluttered desk and knocked it over in the process. Grabbing the paper, she waved it like a flag. Coffee flew everywhere, reminding her of D.O.G. after a bath. She grabbed a handful of tissues to dab up the remaining moisture before the paper disintegrated.
What the hell was going on? She recognized the name of the reporter who worked for Thomas. She’d met her at the zoning board meeting. “Shit. Does everything in my life have to fall apart at the same time?”
She scanned the article. Daniel owned a series of shell companies that owned the pier and all the surrounding land. With the zoning board change that she personally effected, the zoning of the pier and surrounding area went from industrial to mixed commercial, thereby increasing its value tenfold. The city had a written agreement for the sale of the pier, but Daniel would make a killing off all the other land. She wasn’t sure it was illegal, but it stank worse than a garbage strike in an August heat wave. “That slimy bastard.”
She sank back into her chair and slumped her ass to the edge of the seat. How stupid was she? She had played right into Daniel’s hands and had allowed him to use her. She paved the way for the humiliation of the entire board. The worst part was that he couldn’t have done it without her help, making her just as guilty—maybe not of any real wrongdoing, but the guilt of stupidity was a hard pill to swallow. Harder than the Excedrin.
If she could have the wool pulled over her eyes so thoroughly, she had no right being on the board of anything. She’d have to resign her position. She’d let herself down, let her community down, and worst of all, she’d let her father down. She had lost everything.
Her cell phone rang and she reached for it, hoping it was Storm, which was ridiculous because he was halfway over the Pacific by now. When she saw Thomas’s name on the screen, she considered not answering. But then what was the point in ignoring it? She was sure between her fellow board members and the press, her phone would be ringing off the hook. Rocki’s voice rang out, loud and clear in her head, ordering her to put on her big-girl panties and get on with it. “Bree Collins.” Just because she had to speak to him didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.
“Congratulations, Bree.”
“Congratulations? On what? On being exposed as the biggest patsy in all of New York? Thomas, I’m not making any statements to the press. I’m sure we’ll be convening an emergency committee meeting shortly. I’ll let you know when we have a statement.”
“Did you read the article?”
“No, I choked and spit my coffee all over it. I did get the first paragraph read, though.”
“Bree, I just got off the phone with the mayor’s office. He’d like you to be at the press briefing today.”
“Excuse me?”
“My driver can pick you up at noon. The mayor would like to speak with you before the briefing. He mentioned something about an opening on the New York City Council on Community Development.”
“But Thomas, I played right into Daniel Knickerbocker’s hands. I was publicly made a fool of. I’m practically a political pariah. He tried to scam the city with my help.”
“You played an integral part in the development of the Harbor Pier Project. Honey, it took one of my best reporters weeks of research to connect Knickerbocker to the half dozen shell companies that own the land—the man knows how to cover his tracks. It was your questioning his dissociation at the zoning board meeting that convinced me there was a story there.” Thomas waited a beat before he continued. “If you’d read the entire article, you’d find that Daniel has become a true philanthropist and has gifted the pier to the city for the park you’ve worked so hard to bring about.”
“He’s getting away with it?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t exactly say that. Knickerbocker never got far enough to actually break any laws, although I’m sure he would have, had you and Storm not alerted the press to your suspicions. But don’t worry, my dear. He’s on the DA’s shit list now. He’ll have the entire office watching his every move, and I’m sure the state auditors are sharpening their pencils.”
Bree pinched the bridge of her nose and released a long where’s-my-fairy-godmother-when-I-need-her sigh. “I don’t know what Storm told you, but I was completely clueless when it came to Daniel. I plan to tender my resignation from the Revitalization Committee today. I’m the last person the mayor should want on the city council.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. Storm didn’t tell me anything you didn’t tell him. And he was adamant you not be touched by this. Luckily, that was an easy condition to meet. You’ve been impeccable in all your dealings, and everyone we’ve interviewed has had nothing but the highest praise for your work and commitment to Red Hook.”
“They’re wrong.”
“Br
ee, take some advice from an old man who’s been around the block more than a few times. Come to the mayor’s office this afternoon. You don’t have to make any commitments. All I ask is that you listen. There’s plenty of time to resign if that’s your decision, but no decision like that should be made in haste. I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, you’re going places, young lady. All you have to do is get out of your own way.”
* * *
“When will you be home, Storm?”
He did his best to smile at Nicki’s pretty little face on his phone. “I don’t know, kiddo. I’m on my way from the airport to the boat builder, so it’s too early to even tell what I’m dealing with.”
“I miss you and so does Bree.”
“Did you have fun at Patrice and Francis’s?”
“I guess.” She shrugged her little shoulders. “We had a sleepover, and Ms. Patrice was at a party with Bree, so Mr. Francis ordered pizza and let us stay up late.”
Storm’s shoulders tightened when he heard Bree’s name. “What kind of party?”
“A pity party. He said it involves a weenie roast, too much wine, and tissues. He made us be real quiet this morning. He even took us to the park.”
“That’s good. So, have you seen Bree since you got home?”
“Nope. Logan said she’s hanging with the mayor. She was on TV and everything. Cool, huh?”
“Are you sure?”
“Did you know Logan puts girl stuff in his hair?”
“What’s Bree doing with the mayor?”
“You don’t put girl stuff in your hair, do you?”
“What? No, but I’m sure Logan uses guy stuff, not girl stuff.”
“It smells girly.” Nicki wrinkled her nose, and the picture bopped up and down as if she were prancing. The jiggling on his FaceTime screen wasn’t helping his headache.
“You okay, Nicki?”
“Yeah, I just gotta go to the bathroom. I love you, Storm. Come home soon.” The picture changed from Nicki’s face to what looked like the light fixture in her bedroom. She must have thrown the iPad on her bed and run for the head.
The sound of her footsteps meeting him from thousands of miles away made his heart ache more than his head, and that was saying something. He looked at the familiar landscape and missed the sights and sounds of home. He had felt more comfortable in Red Hook than he felt on the waterfront of Auckland. He didn’t know how it happened, but there was no arguing with the truth. He rubbed his gritty eyes and then his chest, and disconnected FaceTime. He had work to do. At least work might keep him from thinking about Bree.
* * *
Rocki stepped into Bree’s office and quickly exited. She stopped, looked around, and then returned.
Bree was used to her theatrics. She didn’t like them, but she was used to them. “What do you need, Rocki?”
Rocki panned the entire room. “Where are all your files?”
“Put away.” Bree stepped over D.O.G., who had taken to following Bree around since Storm left, and sat at her desk.
Rocki held her sleeve and wiped the top of Bree’s desk. “You even dusted. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I thought I was in the wrong office, seriously.” She flopped into her chair and tossed her leg over the arm. “I’ve heard of spring cleaning but never fall gutting. Who knew the top of your desk was mahogany? Alert the media—oh, never mind, you’ve already done that, haven’t you? So, how was your meeting with Mikey?”
“The mayor was very nice. The meeting was fine.”
“Fine? You rub elbows with the mayor and that’s all I get? Time to dish, girlfriend. How big are his feet?”
“Let’s just say he has a big presence and leave it at that.”
“Really? So are you trying to get the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, or are you nesting? Is there something you need to tell me?”
Bree looked up from the pile of mail she was sorting and raised an eyebrow. “Other than get out?”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were cleaning up in case you get a wild hair and feel the need to fly the friendly skies.”
“Rocki, I let a lot of things slide since Pete got sick. With Nicki back in school, Pete coming down to help out on occasion, and Logan working full-time, I’m able to do some catching up. You don’t have to make a federal case of it.”
“I’m not, but now that you brought it up, you didn’t happen to stop by the post office to get your passport, did you?”
Bree tossed the junk mail she’d sorted into the trash before standing. “Yes, okay? I got my freakin’ passport—or applied for it at least. Are you happy now?”
Rocki gave her one of the few rare glimpses of her heart. “Yes, I’m happy. I hate seeing you like this. Storm’s been gone a week and you’re miserable, you’ve lost weight, and it doesn’t look as if you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep since before that. I’m just worried about you.”
Bree sank back into her chair, deflated. “I’m sorry. Look, getting a passport is a far cry from flying to New Zealand.”
“But at least having one gives you the option. Has Storm called?”
“Not me. Pete said he talks to Nicki every day. She said he’s growing a beard.”
“Really?”
Bree started to say something and Rocki put a hand up to stop her. “I’m trying to come up with a mental picture here. Not bad, not bad at all. Anything else?”
“Only that Nicki insists that Storm is coming home. If he does, it won’t be to see me.” She laid her head on the desk. “God, how long is it going to hurt like this?”
Rocki jumped up and ran around Bree’s desk to hug her. “I don’t know, Bree, but since you never got over him the first time, I think you should just bite the bullet and go after the man. Honestly, when you weren’t at each other’s throats, you were great together. Even when you were ready to kill each other, you ended up with beard burn.” She stepped away, “Face it, Bree. You’re pretty much toast anyway. What do you have left to lose?”
As much as Bree didn’t want to hear it, Rocki was right. She’d either have to go after Storm or enter a nunnery.
“You made one mistake, but over time, even someone as stubborn as Storm should be able to see you didn’t mean to hurt him. You were only protecting yourself, and you promised Pete. And let us not forget, you weren’t the only one invested in this relationship. That man had it bad for you. He’s probably hurting as badly as you are.”
“Doubtful. I’m sure there are plenty of rich women after him, who are more than happy to help him take his mind off me.”
Rocki shook her head. “Oh no. Storm only has eyes for you. You’re not the only one who never got over her first love. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Rocki clapped her hands. “You know what you need?”
“A bottle of sleeping pills?”
Rocki shot her a disgusted look. “No, retail therapy. What do you say we make a run to the city and hit Macy’s and Nordstrom Rack? We can shop for the perfect dream vacation. If things work out with Storm, you won’t need clothes, but if not, you’ll have to wear something fabulous to pick up that cabana boy we talked about.”
“I have plenty of clothes.”
“None that I’d be caught wearing. Really, Bree, you’re supposed to dress to attract men, not scare them away.”
Rocki pulled Bree’s purse out of her bottom desk drawer. “Logan’s manning the bar, so that’s covered, and Nicki’s not going to be back from school for hours.”
“Okay.” Bree threw her hands in the air. “I give up. I’m not strong enough to fight you.” She accepted her purse from Rocki, shooed the dog up the back stairs, and called up to Pete; then she took one more look around her office to be sure there was nothing left to catch up on. “Maybe retail therapy will help. It’s worth a try anyway.”
“Lucky for you my fee is only a mani-pedi and a new pair of shoes.”
* * *
Storm awoke wi
th his assistant standing over him. The look on her face made him move to protect his genitals. In the six years Sandy had worked for him, he’d never seen her pissed, but he’d heard her husband describe the phenomenon. Brad didn’t do her justice—she looked like the Tasmanian Devil on a bender.
“You look like you’re going bush. I could smell you as soon as I entered the office even though your door was closed.”
“You couldn’t knock?”
“I thought something that smelled as bad as you carked it.”
“As you can see, I’m alive and well.”
“I’ll give you alive; well is another story all together. What the hell are you doing sleeping in your office?”
“What does it matter?” Storm had gone to his condo, and the place seemed as empty as his life. He didn’t bother unpacking; he just picked up his bag and brought it to the office. He’d been at the boatyard pulling eighteen-hour days for almost two weeks, trying to figure out where the extra bulb weight was. He’d gone back and forth over his plans, and they’d all checked out. He’d spent the rest of the time crawling around the yacht. In the last few days he’d contorted himself into positions that would make the author of the Kama Sutra blush. He hurt everywhere.
Sandy held her hand over her nose and mouth. “Listen, mate, this has got to stop. I can’t take it anymore. You’ve been narking at me ever since you returned, and when you’re not narking, you look like you’re off with the fairies.”
“Off with the fairies? What the—”
“Daydreaming, woolgathering, whatever else you Yanks call it. You smell like you belong in a zoo.”
“I didn’t get a chance to shower last night. I was so knackered, I just passed out.”
“Did you find the problem?”
“The extra weight? Of course I did.”
“Was it the builder’s fault?”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
Sandy laughed. “The only doubts were yours. Half the reason you smell as bad as you do is because you were so worried about it, you forgot to bathe. So what did they do this time?”
