by Mary Calmes
"You came." She smiled into my eyes, smoothing her fingers over my eyebrows.
"I said I would."
"I know." She sighed as I carried her through the open door, depositing her in the hallway of her apartment. "But I've invited you a million times before."
"And this time I could actually make it," I assured her.
She nodded. "Gimme your coat. What do you want to drink?"
"What've you got?" I asked as I passed her first my coat and then the wine I had brought her.
"Oh thank you, sir." She smiled at me, taking my hand, tugging me into the living room. "How 'bout a very strong margarita?"
"Okay." I grinned at her, brushing the hair out her eyes. "I love your face."
I watched her tremble under my hand, as always, a grateful recipient of my attention. She wore her adoration of me on her sleeve, where I showed off mine for her. "Well, I like yours a little bit too, ya know?"
We shared a long look before there was throat-clearing close by. We both turned to the man smiling at us.
"You've gotta be Jory." His smile widened as he extended his hand. "I'm Chris, her husband."
I took the hand and returned the smile. "It's great to finally meet you."
"And you," he nodded, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. "She talks about you every day."
"Sorry," I said, shooting her a look.
"What?" Her dark scowl was adorable.
"No," he chuckled. "It's good, really. She loves working with you."
I wrapped my arms around her neck and pressed against her back. "Well, it goes both ways."
They were listening to oldies and when a new song started she drew me away from her husband to the area behind the couch. I took her into my arms and she put her head on my shoulder and leaned. As I moved, I heard her sigh, and she melted against me. When the song ended and I dipped her low, the room erupted in applause.
My head snapped up and I realized there were seven other people there besides us.
"Everybody," she chuckled as she looked at all of them upside-down. "This is my partner in crime, my work-husband, Jory."
I smiled and she giggled. When I looked down at her she was staring up into my face. "Let me up so you can meet my friends."
As soon as I set her on her feet, she grabbed the front of my sweater and pulled me around to the center of the group next to the coffee table. There was a board game set up. I didn't groan out loud, which I was very proud of.
Her friends were very nice and when I was asked what it was like to have Dylan Greer as a partner, I leaned on her and said that from the moment we were introduced it had been heaven. When she turned to look at me, I smiled wide.
Her hand was on my cheek and I heard the laughter around us.
My interview with first David O'Shea and then his boss Philip Torres at Barrington had gone way better than good. He needed a new graphic designer but he needed one that could work with a partner to develop branding for new clients. We had to create logos, develop artwork, and create print material. I was assigned to the production department after I was hired, starting at the bottom of the barrel with someone from concept design. We worked together after sitting in on a client meeting and came up with something iconic for them to look at. It was usually a group setting, where the client was introduced to everyone. There were four teams that did this part of the PR process at Barrington and we were one of them. When I had been walked through the department on the following Tuesday after I'd been hired, it was then that I had caught my first glimpse of Dylan Greer.
She was sitting at her desk alone, and everyone else in the production room was clustered around another desk talking to one another. Miguel Ortiz, who had been my tour guide, led me over to her desk. He knocked on it to get her attention, as she was facedown on the drafting table. She rolled her head instead of sitting up and his exasperated sigh was not to be missed.
"Greer, this is Harcourt," he grumbled at her. "Your new partner. Try not to run this one off."
And with that he squeezed my shoulder and left. He had given me the good luck speech on the way down. Apparently Dylan was extremely gifted, extremely moody, and sometimes violent. Her last partner had gotten a stapler launched at his head. He didn't quit, however, until she laughed at him, long and hard and loud, in the middle of a client meeting. The only reason she was still there and not instantly fired was that the client had thought the idea just as ridiculous as she had. When she had walked her own sketches up to the table and explained her intent, the client had agreed to the concept on the spot. She was, after all, brilliant but manic. I liked her instantly.
As she lifted her head up off the table and looked into my eyes I arched a brow for her. The smile was adorable. Her tiny little heart-shaped mouth and huge black eyes made her look like a character from a graphic novel—some lovely piece of manga. The porcelain skin and jet-black, midnight-blue-highlighted hair added to the impression.
"You don't look like a Greer," I said to her.
"Do I look like an Okamoto?" she asked crisply.
"Yes."
"You don't look like a Harcourt," she volleyed back. "It's kinda snooty."
I shrugged. No one new that I met would ever know I had ever been anything but a Harcourt. Jory Keyes was dead and he wasn't coming back, even for an explanation. "Well, I'm kind of stuck up myself. You know the type, conceited asshole."
She eyed me hard. "You look okay to me."
I smiled wide. "You look okay to me too."
She offered me her hand. "Call me Dy."
I leaned in and hugged her tight. "Call me J."
Her arms wrapped instantly around me and she put her head down on my shoulder. We went and hid in the supply closet so no one would see her cry. She didn't want to be a bitch, but she liked everything done a certain way, the right way, and so the whole department hated her for insisting on quality instead of quantity. I assured her I didn't, couldn't ever hate her, and we went from there. By the time we got back to her desk, we were a team, and a pretty formidable one as the weeks progressed.
We clicked in some invisible way that taught me to trust my instincts and her to explore her limits. She didn't have to worry about me keeping up with her or being jealous of her or stabbing her in the back—her only concern was the work. And I, who was unsure if I could even do the job, came to the realization that I had the ability, as she nurtured my talent from potential to possibility to fruition.
Our ideas bounced off each other and sometimes the walls.
She drew on any surface that was handy, and when the others complained, Gloria Todd, the head of our department, moved us off the main floor and into a tiny cubbyhole of a corner office. Dylan papered one side of the room, tearing it down and taping it back up every morning. Where she was fevered and driven and frantic I was calm and soothing and still. She said I was like water to her flame but instead of drowning her I just kept her even. We fit like puzzle pieces and were both noticed and complimented. It didn't even bother me that Dane had been right. I liked my new job, my new life. I liked being Jory Harcourt.
Dylan had been pressuring me for two months to meet her husband and she wanted to meet the somebody special in my life. Since there was no one, as I was taking a long hiatus from dating, I asked her if my brother would suffice. She was happier with that and so had arranged a small dinner party with two other couples, her best friends that she wanted me to meet, her husband and one of his co-workers that she was crazy about. I knew before the words were out of her mouth that she was playing matchmaker, but she was my friend and wanted what was best for me, so I agreed to meet Raymond Alvarez, along with everyone else, at her house on Saturday night.
At a quarter to nine neither Dane nor Ray was there and Dylan, true to form, went ahead and served dinner. She had no patience whatsoever and waiting to serve food was not where she was going to start. We ate from a buffet line on her counter and sat around in the living room. When the doorbell chimed after we all had gotten settle
d, Chris rose to get it, gentle hand on his wife's knee to keep her seated. I was not surprised that it was Dane. Funny to see him there in his Armani tuxedo looking like he had literally stepped off the cover of GQ. He was stunning.
"Oh my goodness," Dylan breathed out, her eyes running over the man slowly, up and down, finally settling on his face, on his pale gray eyes under perfectly shaped thick black brows. "Are you Dane?"
"I am." He smiled at her, passing her the bottle of Dom Perignon. "I'm sorry to be late. I forgot I had to put in an appearance at a charity function this evening, but I didn't want you to think for a moment that meeting Jory's partner wasn't of paramount importance to me. So I brought you a gift and I'm hoping that perhaps we might have dinner with you and your husband next week sometime if that would work."
She could only nod. He was giving her his full attention and it was short-circuiting her brain. "That would work. That would be great."
"Excellent." He smiled at her before he offered Chris his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
He was spellbound as well. "And you," he said as he shook Dane's hand.
I watched Dane meet the others, shake their hands, smile until the room was silent, watching, waiting on him. I got up and he stepped in front of me, hand on my shoulder.
"How are you?"
I smiled up at him. "I'm good. Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?" It had become our Sunday morning ritual after the first-time meeting with the lawyer.
"Sure. Let's hit the gym first. I have to beat Jude at racquetball this week or I owe him like a car or something, and even though annihilating you isn't much practice, at least it gets my blood moving."
I chuckled. "Funny. You're frickin' hilarious."
He grinned before patting my cheek gently, turning to go.
"Don't forget we've got to go through applications sometime tomorrow. I've got to start interviewing next week."
"How many assistants is that in the two months that I've been gone?"
He smirked at me. "Just shut up."
"Carina then Debbie and last Friday you fired Shannon right?" I teased him.
"Keep it up."
I nodded, looking down before my eyes were suddenly back on his. "Say it."
"What?"
I squinted at him. "C'mon, just say it."
He gave me a long look before he suddenly sighed. "Fine, you're right. You were the best assistant I ever had. You took care of me at work, at home, you were phenomenal. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Yes."
"You know you're amazing, I should tell you more often."
It was all I needed to hear.
"Here," he said as he passed me something.
When I looked at what was in my hand I realized I was looking at the royal blue leather billfold that I had wanted when we went to Vail for Christmas. I had decided it was too expensive. I didn't actually need a new wallet. My head snapped up and he smiled.
"Your wallet is a travesty," he grinned wickedly. "Use that instead."
"Thank you." I smiled back. "I've been obsessing about this, wishing I'd just gotten it." I did that a lot, and always had to judge a purchase not made on the amount of thought I would put into it afterward. Sometimes I was just out for some retail therapy, but other times I really wanted something and when I didn't end up getting it afterward it nagged at me like dripping water in the shower.
"I know you," he said before giving me a final pat on the cheek. The second the door closed behind him Dylan yelled my name.
"Jory!"
I turned to face her.
"Dane Harcourt is your brother? The architect?"
"Yeah." I smiled because when he was my boss I was proud to claim him, but now that we were family, I practically glowed when anyone mentioned that we were related. Dane had given me his name and made me his brother when he had decided that he didn't just want to run my work life but my whole life. He was born to be a big brother and I was so glad he had chosen to be mine.
"Holy shit," Chris breathed out and everyone laughed at him. "Jory, buddy, you could've warned me. I'm a huge fan of his work."
I shrugged. "Sorry."
"So where did you guys go for Christmas?" Dylan asked me, carrying the champagne to her refrigerator. "I knew you went out of town but you never said where."
"We went to Vail," I told her. "It was nice. He skied and I shopped and we ate and drank and it was awesome. Next year we're going someplace warm, like maybe Maui or Cancun."
"There's only you guys?" she asked me. "Your folks are gone?"
I nodded. "Only us."
"You didn't want to be an architect, Jory?" Chris asked me.
I shook my head. "Nah. He's the genius, I just ride."
"You're a genius too," Dylan chimed in, cupping my face in her hands. "I promise you."
I leaned in to kiss her nose.
"But I could kill you for letting that man walk into my house. My God what he must think."
"He thought it was charming, believe me."
"He's incredible," she breathed out, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. "And you two look nothing alike apart from the fact that you're both gorgeous."
I patted her cheek. "He and I are in different leagues, babe."
"Jory, come over here and dish," one of the women called to me from the couch. "Sit here by me."
Fun to talk about Dane and realize they were all amazed. I would have been the same way. It wasn't often that a man like that walked into your living room.
By eleven it was clear Ray had blown the evening off, so I left to meet Evan at the club. Before I could go inside though, my phone rang.
"Jory?"
"Hey, Nick." I smiled into the phone. "How ya been?"
"Okay."
I stepped out of the way of some people, so I was standing in front of the club. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry I didn't return your calls around Christmas but—"
"I just didn't want you to think I was breaking my promise.
I told you I would meet your family but you never called me back."
"Yeah, I know and I'm sorry. I had just met somebody and it seemed like it was going to be serious and so I basically blew you off. It was a real shitty thing to do."
I laughed softly. "Everybody blows off their friends for a lover, Nicky, don't beat yourself up. Who cares—we're friends, we're good. Tell me what happened?"
"He told me after New Year's that he didn't want to break up with me over the holidays but that it was over before Christmas. He said I was shitty in bed and that I should think about taking lessons from someone. It's getting to be the story of my life, J."
I winced. "I never said you were shitty in bed. I said we—emphasis on the word 'we'—had no chemistry. That has as much to do with me as you."
"No it doesn't, because we both know you're great in bed."
I was silent because I wasn't sure yet whether he was trying to be offensive or not.
"I bet all the guys you've been in bed with tell you all the time how hot you are and how good and—"
"Bye, Nick," I said before I clicked off my phone and headed into the club.
I had a good time hanging out with Evan but took home numbers instead of guys. He asked me as I was leaving if I was turning into a monk.
On my way home I ducked through an alley and when I hit the sidewalk I remembered I needed tea. The bodega three corners from me sold a smoky-flavored mix I loved, so I went to see if the old man was working. If the husband was working it would still be open; if it was his son's night, he'd closed up to hit the clubs. As I moved up the street I checked both sides, as was my new habit, and there on the other side, coming out of a diner, was Sam. He was holding hands with Maggie Dixon. Dominic, another guy, and two women were with them. I slowed but didn't stop, wanting to hide, but moving instead.
The last time I had seen him was when I appeared in front of the grand jury. He had ignored me in court and had walked away without speaking after my turn on the stand.
I had given my testimony and two others had given theirs and after that Brian had decided to take a plea. His choice was to become a witness against his boss and they had put him into protective custody. They didn't need me anymore, and it was understood that the threats on my life would cease. The assistant DA had called to tell me that I was released from any further service. I could be a private citizen again. Nothing had happened for the two months I had been at my new job and I had never once heard from Sam.
I had thought of calling him at Christmas but it seemed futile, and then Dane had eclipsed anything else with his plans and the travel and our bonding. I had wanted to call him on New Year's and then to tell him it was my birthday and alert him to the fact that I had turned twenty-three. I had no idea why that had seemed important at the time. But the days came and went with growing absences and stacking silence. Too much time had passed with neither of us reaching for the other. On the street, walking by him like a stranger, I felt the finality of it and the enormity of the chasm between us. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, so I did. I shoved my gloved hands deep into my pockets as I went by, tucking my chin to my chest, taking a deep breath of cold January air.
The store was open, and I got the wave from the old man as I went to the back where the tins his wife put her private tea leaves in were. My phone rang and I read Nick's number on the display.
"Do I wanna talk to you?" I asked him irritably.
"Sorry-sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just feeling really shitty and I took it out on you because I could. I'm sorry."
I grunted.
"Please, Jory, I'm so—"
"Don't say sorry even one more time."
"Okay—sorry."
I growled.
"Shit—I... God, Jory, I've been such a mess. I should've called you and... 'cause you're the one I wanted to meet my folks, not Ray Alvarez."
Wait. "What?"
"I said that—"
"Ray Alvarez?"
"Yeah, Raymond Alvarez. That's the guy's name."
"Shit."
"It's funny, you know," he went on, not really hearing me.
