My beautiful Amber,
You have no idea how sorry I am about what I’ve done to you. I regret it every minute that you’re not with me. I miss you so much. I can’t even explain it to you. I just pray that someday soon you’ll give me the chance to speak to you. I need you to understand what happened.
I’m going crazy without you, Amber. Not just because I’m aching to hold you but also because I just want to know that you’re okay. It’s killing me to know that I hurt you. Let me make this right. Please. I’ll do anything you want.
Anything.
I love you more than words can explain. Please give me a chance to speak to you. That’s all I ask.
Loving you forever,
Spencer
I purse my lips to fight back sobs as I fold the letter and slip it back into the envelope. I look up to find Hailey and Ruthie’s eyes brimming with tears.
“Excuse me,” I say sliding the chair across the linoleum flooring and walking out of the kitchen only to erupt into tears the moment I shut the bathroom door behind me.
Chapter 6
That was a fucking waste of time, I think as I shake the hand of some human resources guy at some law firm in Chinatown.
I guess I forgot how shitty job-hunting is. Actually, I now suspect that Spencer, via Stella, pulled strings to get me that position at Cartwright. So, I didn’t even get that job on my own merits. Ugh – how am I supposed to find a new job on my own in this economy with my mediocre grades and my bare-bones résumé?
After pounding the pavement all day for four interviews, I feel beyond disheartened. I’m already sick of grinning and baring it and I’m still only on my first-round interviews. I’ll be lucky if I’m able to move on to round two interviews with any of these firms.
“We’ll be in touch if we determine that there’s any interest in you after we review the files of all the applicants,” he says as he smoothes over the fabric of his stiff polyester suit while ushering me towards the reception area.
“Thanks so much for the opportunity,” I say in my most polite tone hoping that my desperation isn’t showing.
“Yup,” he says casually as he disappears down the hallway back towards the conference room we just walked out of.
The elevator takes more than long enough to show up. When it does, I hop on, glad to get out of this hellhole. I take the subway and when I get out, New York City’s signature summer humidity and the blazing sun greet me. I start the four-block trek back to Hailey and Ruthie’s apartment. I pull out my cellphone and swipe my finger across the screen to reveal the time. 3:45 p.m. No more interviews for today.
“Amber, there you are!”
I look up, stunned to hear my name.
It’s Stella. In jeans and a white tank top, pushing her baby in a monster of a stroller.
Ugh!
I huff past her, pushing my way into the lobby of the apartment building.
“C’mon, Amber!” she pleads.
“I don’t know why he sent you here. I don’t want to speak to either of you,” I spit the words out.
“You can’t tell me that you don’t have questions. That you don’t want to know what’s going on.” She’s trying to reason with me.
I don’t answer. I just push the elevator call button again and again.
“Amber – I’m here offering you answers. Take this opportunity.”
“How do I know I can trust what you have to say?”
“Because I have nothing to gain – whether you talk to me or not.”
“Well, you stand to gain brownie points with your boss.”
“Stop being petulant, Amber.”
I stomp and fold my arms across my chest just as the elevator doors slide open and its passengers shuffle off. “I’m giving you five minutes, Stella.” I step onto the lift and stick my hand out to keep it open as she struggles to push the stroller in.
We ride in silence until we get to the 9th floor. Stella follows me to Hailey and Ruthie’s apartment and we settle in at the kitchen table.
“So, what is it that you want to tell me? Why are you here?” I ask bluntly, leaning back in the chair and folding my arms tightly across my chest.
Stella heaves a sigh and interlaces her fingers on the tabletop. “Spencer told me about the photograph…” Her voice trails off.
“Oh, Spencer’s being honest with you. Revealing some of his dark, dirty secrets to you. Well, aren’t you a lucky one.” My tone reeks of sarcasm.
“Amber, there are some things that you don’t know –“ Stella says, hesitantly.
“No shit, Stella!” I retort.
“Spencer’s a good guy. He really cares about you. He wants to do right by you. But he’s struggled with some things in the past.” Her words tread across eggshells. She’s so careful to choose the right ones.
“What are you trying to say, Stella?” I bark impatiently. Baby Jordan starts to fuss. Stella leans over and gently rocks the stroller back and forth to lull him.
“Let me start from the beginning…” She runs her tongue nervously along her bottom lip. “I met Spencer in NA. I’ve been clean for nearly eight years –“
“Clean?” I ask, unable to mask the shock in my voice. I study Stella in a new light. Her brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair. Her creamy olive-toned skin. Her warm brown eyes. Nothing about her indicates that she has ever been an addict.
“Clean,” she repeats in a small voice. “I picked up a bit of a coke habit during undergrad.”
“Coke – as in cocaine?” I ask in an incredulous voice. Not that I’m one to judge. I am, after all, a recovering pill-popper.
“Yes, cocaine –“ she says, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. She pauses as if she’s waiting to see if I have any more questions that will interrupt her intended monologue.
I nod at her, silently nudging her to continue her story.
“So, I met Spencer at an NA meeting here in New York a few months after his wife died. He needed a mentor. I volunteered – because I thought he was hot. Smokin’ hot, actually.” She chuckles. I feel my eyebrow arch dramatically. “Anyway,” she continues noting my irritation, “He had been clean for a little while. But then, he relapsed. It wasn’t the first time. He was struggling. He was grieving hard. And who could blame him? His wife and his unborn child were dead – He couldn’t cope with that. I took him to Montreal to check him into rehab. We thought it would be more discreet than having him check in here in New York. It could have really damaged his business if word got out that he had a drug problem. We were checking him into rehab on the day you were graduating…he saw you – he heard the speech you gave, Amber. You changed his life.”
I’m sitting there dumbfounded. “I – I don’t understand, Stella. I don’t get it.” Tears are welling up in my eyes.
“What is it that you don’t understand? You made an incredible impact on his life. You probably saved him. Before the day that he first saw you, he was falling apart. His business was doing great – mainly because I grabbed the reins from him and veered it away from the ditch it was heading towards – but he was falling apart. And when you gave that speech, its like you zapped him with strength and courage and he was finally able to stand on his own two feet again. And slowly, but surely he was able to build himself back up into a functional human being. And then, to a successful human being. And then, into the incredible man that he is today.”
“This is overwhelming,” I say as the tears stream down my face.
Stella reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Amber, I know that Spencer has hidden things from you. He’s kept secrets…but he didn’t do any of it maliciously.”
I ease out of the chair and walk over to the sink to grab a paper towel. “I still have so many questions, though.” I run the wad of paper towel down my tear-stained cheeks. “There’s so much I still don’t understand – How did he go from seeing me speak at my rehab graduation to having me working on his real estate transactions at Cartwright? How did he know anything
about me? How –“
Just then, Jordan breaks out into a full-on fit of cries and screams. Stella leans over his stroller trying to hush him. Nothing she does seems to work.
“Okay. It looks like my time here is up. I’ve gotta get him home,” she says regretfully as she gathers her diaper bag from the foot of her chair.
I follow her out to the elevator.
“Thanks for sharing this with me, Stella,” I say as the car doors slide open.
“I’m sorry for all the secrets,” she says in response.
“If I have any more questions, can I call you?” I ask sticking my foot out to hold the door as she struggles to pull the gigantic stroller onto the lift.
She looks me dead in the face. “I think that you should speak to Spencer if you want any more information, Amber. You’re both suffering without each other. You need to speak to him.”
The elevator struggles against my foot, attempting to close.
Stella looks at me and sighs. “Most people know Spencer as this ruthless, determined pit bull in the boardroom. I’m one of the few people who know that he’s something more than that. And I’ll tell you one thing, I’ve never seen him as committed to anything as he’s been to you, Amber. He loves you. You should hear him out.”
With that, she leans forward and presses the button to close the elevator door. I move my foot out of the way and watch as the chrome doors pull shut.
I do need to speak to Spencer…but I don’t know if I’m ready yet…
Chapter 7
“Edie?”
“Ohmygod, Bambi! Where the hell have you been? Your phone’s been off for two weeks. Is it disconnected? Did your phone get disconnected?” my older sister’s shrieks pierce my ear. The genuine panic in her voice is palpable. “Mom’s been worried sick about you. And daddy – he paces the living room floor all night. I don’t think he’s slept a wink in days.”
“I texted you. Didn’t you get it?” I offer weakly.
“Bambi, one measly text in over two weeks is unacceptable. Especially after what happened with that man of yours.”
“I’m sorry – I just needed some space to clear my head. That’s all.”
“Are you coming home?”
“Home? Why would I come home?”
“Because you’re all alone out there in New York with no job, no family and no place to stay – Are you gonna come home? Daddy would send you a bus ticket, y’know.”
“I don’t need to come home. Everything’s fine. I’m staying with some friends and I’ve got a few job interviews lined up this week.”
“Bambi, we’d all feel a lot better if you would just come home. There’s no shame in that.”
“Eden – Listen to me – I’m not coming home. I’m fine. I just wanted to check up on you, okay?”
She takes a deep breath and her voice lowers though it’s still warm with concern. “Bambi – I just want you to understand that we love you and we want to make sure that you’re safe and if you have to come home, nobody’s judging you. We just want you to be alright.”
“I’m alright, Edie. I am.”
I can hear her voice crack. “Okay…gosh, you’ve got me crying, mascara running in the middle of Walmart,” she says with a soft chuckle.
I smile a little. “I’m sorry, sis. I’ll call you soon. Kiss Dylan for me.” I don’t wait for her to instill any more doubts in me. I end the call.
Chapter 8
Tim Yanovik. Tim Yanovik. Tim Yanovik. I study his plump, red face, receding hairline and expensive-looking business suit. I repeat his name over and over to burn it into my memory, to make sure I don’t forget it. That’s how I blew my last interview – I forgot the interviewer’s name. I cringe even now as I replay it in my head for the nth time.
Tim – Tim Yanovick nods gently to himself as he quickly scans my resumé.
He looks up at me and smiles. “I hope you don’t mind, but we did a little due diligence.”
“Due diligence?” I ask warily.
“Yes, I see that you worked at Cartwright Moretti Stevenson –“ my stomach instantly sinks like a rock.
“I – I did,” is all I can say.
“Well, that’s where I started my career. Ten years ago. I was Michaelo Moretti’s right hand man – actually, I’m just flattering myself – I was more like his bitch,” Tim says with a small, rueful smile. I can’t help but chuckle. His joke is a pleasant distraction from the pang of anxiety that hit me a few seconds ago when he mentioned my old job. “Anyway, I reached out to Moretti” – Jeeze. This interview is yet another lost cause. I just want to get up and walk out now, to save the few shards of dignity that I have left— “He had nothing but glowing remarks about you. You impressed him. Whatever it is that you did, you impressed him.”
I’m stunned by this news. I was expecting that Mr. Moretti would have taken the opportunity to cream me to anyone who dared to mention my name. He didn’t. That’s stunning to me.
“You look surprised,” Tim remarks with a cocked eyebrow.
“I – I –“ I try to string together a sentence but, yet again, I’m flustered.
“What? You were expecting him to trash talk you?” Tim chuckles.
A taut smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. My insides are still knotted up because I know that it’s only a matter of time till the inevitable question spills from Tim’s lips.
“So, if Moretti was so impressed by you, why did you quit his firm?” There it is – the million-dollar question. Or in this case, the ‘$1350 per week plus health insurance, gym membership and fancy firm-sponsored cocktails in exchange for grueling 14-hour work days’ question.
My response could well determine whether or not I get this internship.
Thank god Tim is a big talker. “Moretti mentioned that you’re really interested in cross-border transactions – his firm doesn’t do much of those. Here at, Cooper and Associates, we do.”
I nod and grab onto that lifeline with a quickness. “Yes – I’m really interested in cross-border transactions. That’s why I applied to Cooper and Associates.” Not because I quit Cartwright where I was living in constant anxiety after breaching the firm’s “No Banging the Clients” policy.
Tim looks at me intently, a contemplative expression on his face. “Y’know what? I like you, Amber. You’d fit in around here…How about you start in two weeks?”
My eyes bulge out of my head. “I got the job? But on your website – it says that a candidate has to go through four rounds of interviews before being selected.” There I go shoving my foot into my mouth.
He laughs. “You come highly recommended, Amber. I’m prepared to bend the rules for you.” With that, he eases out of his tanned patent leather executive chair. “So, do we have a deal?”
I’m so giddy with excitement that I basically bounce to my feet. “Yes. Yes Tim, we have a deal.” I shake Tim’s hand vigorously.
A look of slight embarrassment comes over his face and he lowers his volume. “Do you mind calling me ‘Mr. Yanovik’? I really prefer the sound of that.”
I stifle a laugh. “Of course, Mr. Yanovik!”
Chapter 9
I am floating on Cloud Nine!
I’ve found a job!
Now, I can keep my fears about having no food and sleeping on a park bench at bay for one more day.
I’m so ecstatic that I’ve barely noticed that I’m strolling down a familiar crowded mid-town Manhattan sidewalk.
It isn’t until I glance up at the skyline that I notice that I’m walking past DisSpence’s corporate offices. I pause on the pavement, looking up at the dark brickwork and floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.
I find myself moving towards to the front door. I push the steel-framed glass door open and am standing in the bustling lobby. I feel the energy of the lobby whizzing through me as busy office workers buzz around, barely noticing my presence at all. I’m trying to muster up the courage to call the elevator, ride up to the 30th floor and finally look Spencer in the
eye.
I decide to have a drink to calm my nerves before undertaking this daunting task.
I stride towards the ground floor bistro where I had had lunch with Stella the day my mother showed me the photograph that changed everything. I swallow a lump in my throat as I approach the hostess posted at the entrance.
“Welcome to Bistro Nova,” she says in a chipper voice, her smooth face stretched into a forced smile.
“Hi –“ Just then, my eyes are drawn to a man and a woman sitting at a table near the window. That gold-brown hair cut right above the collar of his gray and white pin striped shirt. No suit jacket. His shoulders hunched all the way up to his ears. He looks tense. The woman, her eyes meet mine and she shoots pure venom my way.
Amber Nights - The Esquire Girls Series - Amber's Story (Books 1, 2, 3 & 4) - Box Set Page 20
