“I can’t do that, Alexander. You know I can’t do that. I have a job in Brooklyn. A career I care about. I’ll be going back to Port-au-Prince as soon as I can. I can’t just fly off with you to Dubai and have a fling. As much as I wish I could.”
I took the first clean breath I’d had in the past ten minutes. She wished she could. It wasn’t hopeless then. Maybe, just maybe, I could figure something out to keep her.
But I realized that I was getting nowhere with her like this. Just telling her that I loved her wasn’t going to be enough. I needed to strategize, which fortunately was one of my strengths. I’d always enjoyed puzzles, and Madison was the greatest puzzle I’d ever encountered.
“Ok, Madison,” I said, the scheming wheels in my head already beginning to turn wildly, “I understand. I’ll drop it.”
She stared at me for a long moment, and then took an even longer drink of her beer.
“Oh,” I said, pretending to change the subject, “before I forget, here.”
I pulled the folded-over manila envelope out of my jacket pocket on the ground. I’d actually meant to lead with this in my original version of this evening’s game plan, but whatever. Madison seemed so relieved that I was no longer confessing my love for her that she happily let me divert the conversation elsewhere. She opened the envelope with a bemused expression, probably expecting something boring and related to the deal.
“Oh, my other earring,” Madison cried, pulling the replacement for the one she’d lost in the explosion from the paper. The multitude of little diamonds sparkled in the low light of the room. I hoped I would get to see Madison wearing those earrings again. The thought that I might not made me feel ill.
Madison was smiling now, which was a massive improvement in her mood over thirty seconds ago. Diamonds were clearly the way to go with Madison. She was about to put down the envelope when she saw that there were also several pieces of paper in it as well. She pulled them out and read through the first page. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t be annoyed.
“What is this?” She asked me finally, looking into my eyes with her own soft hazel ones. I was momentarily transfixed by them. If she ever found out how much the sight of her hypnotized me, she could easily manipulate me into just about anything.
“Alexander?” Madison prompted after a second. She was still waiting for my answer.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, “it’s been a long day, huh?”
She nodded in understanding.
“That,” I answered finally, “is the list of potential beneficiaries for the Tiffany Durant Basket Event next year. I want you to pick the final list for us. You can always add other ones, too; you aren’t limited to those choices. My mom always picked them out herself, but my father just has one of his secretaries do it now. Considering that the pet-murderers at PETA were at the benefit this year, my father and I actually agreed on something for once. We thought that the list for next year could use some professional vetting.”
Madison’s eyes became enormous in her face. She really did look like a Disney princess. I wondered if she’d ever dressed up as Snow White for Halloween. Or if she could talk to woodland creatures. My fascination with Madison might have been making me slightly insane. I tried to focus.
“Are you serious?” She was asking in disbelief.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!” I backtracked. She saw it as work. Shit. I knew that was a risk. “There’s money in the budget to pay a consultant to do the selection, but if you aren’t interested maybe you could recommend someone. Like that woman you went to law school with, maybe? Or we can find someone else…”
“Are you sure you want me to do it?” She asked in wonder. I realized then that I’d read her wrong. She was stunned in a good way. She was looking at the paper in front of her like it was the deed to the Taj Mahal.
I nodded, then laughed because she launched herself at me from across the couch and spilled the last quarter of her beer all over herself. Not caring that she was now somewhat moist and hoppy-smelling, Madison kissed me thoroughly on the mouth.
“Thank you!” She said after a too-short minute of kissing.
“Jeez, you’re welcome,” I replied, happy but honestly not expecting this level of response from her. I really thought she’d be way more interested in the earring. Madison was beginning to become less of an enigma to me, but I was still a long way from understanding all her motivations.
For instance, instead of coming back to me for more kisses, which was what I had been banking on, she darted out of the room looking for a pen. My heart followed her out the door.
“You don’t have to start right now!” I called after her as she dashed upstairs for something to write with. I actually had a pen in my jacket but didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want her to work; I wanted her to come back and cuddle with me.
“Yes, I do have to start right now!” Madison cried from upstairs, “I have to get this done tonight. Thursday morning I’ll be on a train back to New York.”
Fuck.
38
Madison
The actual signing of the deal was extremely anti-climactic. After all the fear and consternation, after almost dying twice in the last four days over this deal, the physical signing of the copious paperwork was about as interesting as watching paint dry. I presided over the two-hour long legal formalities, with both Alexander Durants and Giovanna signing the papers. Tèo and my father stood by as witnesses and notaries. The FBI stood watch outside and then departed, hopefully forever. Still, part of me expected a surprise (like, say, a bomb or something). I was glad to be wrong.
Once the ink was dry, I went back to the carriage house alone. Alexander had slept over the previous night, and maybe we’d sleep together one last time after the party tonight at the Ellis’s, but our time together was at an end. I was trying desperately not to think about him. I wished he hadn’t told me that he loved me. I wanted it to be true so much, but even if it was, there was no future for us.
Clara called while I was getting ready for the party and packing.
“Madison, what’s going on with you and Alexander?” She asked as I was folding my clean laundry to fit back into the beat-up college backpack I still used instead of a proper suitcase.
“Hmm?” I replied, not really wanting to get into it. I should have known that Clara wouldn’t be so easily deterred.
“My dad said you two were having a thing? He even said it like that: having a thing. So… are you?” The idea of stuffy, conservative, staunchly Catholic, old Senator Ellis using those words was indeed strange. I would have thought he’d describe as a ‘romantic assignation’ or ‘adulterous liaison’. I smirked.
“Having a thing with Alexander? Yeah, I guess. Or I was. I mean, I go back to Brooklyn tomorrow on the first train,” I replied. Although it was true, just saying those words felt weirdly unreal. I still had one more night with Alexander before it became real. I could live in my fantasy a little while longer.
“And you didn’t tell me? When did it start?”
“Um, Friday night or Saturday morning.” I still could barely believe I’d been so impulsive after the nightmare with Kevin.
“After Kevin and Angelica…?” Clara asked. I think I’d blown her mind. I wasn’t usually very impulsive, and I’d always maintained to her that I despised Alexander. I’d almost convinced myself it was true, so perhaps I’d actually convinced Clara.
“After who?” I replied tartly. Kevin had emailed me a long, maudlin apology letter that morning. I’d replied with instructions on how to return the key to my apartment. Then I’d deleted the letter.
“Oh, um, nobody,” Clara replied, “but seriously, Alexander Durant?”
“Seriously. Alexander Durant,” I answered, smiling sadly into the phone. If nothing else, I’d have a really good story to tell. At least for a couple of insane, weird days, I’d gotten my wish.
“Well? How is it?” she followed up curiously. It had been a l
ong time since either of us had a hookup this juicy.
“Which part?” I asked innocently.
“The sexy part! What do you mean what part? Obviously, the between-his-legs part. Angelica said they sixty-nined one time when they were both really drunk, but I don’t really believe her.”
“Gross,” I replied, but I didn’t doubt that it was true; Angelica Hunt had probably sucked every dick in a thousand-mile radius. Evil slut. “That was an image I really could have done without.”
“No, but seriously. How is it? Is he good?”
“Yes,” was all I could manage, but I’m sure the emotion in my voice spoke volumes. For some reason I didn’t want to kiss and tell with Clara about Alexander. Usually I’d be gushing because the sex was absolutely amazing, but this time, it was different. Not because I was embarrassed, but because it was special to me. I had been waiting ten years to get with Alexander.
“Oh my. It must be something special,” Clara crowed. She knew me so well. “So when’s the wedding?”
“Um, the second weekend after never? Come on, Clara. You know that wouldn’t work. This is purely a one weekend rebound affair.”
“Does he feel like that?” She pushed. Her voice was doubtful.
“Actually,” I told her in surprise, “he told me he wanted me to move to Dubai. He’s thinking with his dick though, there’s no way he’s really that in love with me.”
“Did you tell him you’re in love with him?” Clara asked next, and I dropped the pair of pants I was folding.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound casual.
“Did you tell him you’re in love with him?” She repeated in the exact same matter of fact voice.
I was dumbfounded. Sure, I assumed that Clara had figured out that I had a crush on Alexander way back in the day. But I didn’t think I was so transparent to her, especially not anymore. I didn’t know how to reply—even to myself.
“Did you tell him you’ve been holding a torch for him for ten years?” Clara followed up insistently.
“Clara!” I finally found my voice, “Clara, that was a long time ago. I moved on years ago. This is just a harmless rebound fling. Just to put some mental space between me and Kevin, and blow off steam this week.”
“Bullshit,” she scoffed. Clara was never this direct. Not only was I not used to it, I had no idea how to handle this new no-nonsense version of Clara. “When I saw you looking at him in the Club on Saturday it was obvious you were still head over heels. You love him.”
The silence between us stretched awkwardly. She didn’t even do me the favor of changing the subject. She just waited. I sighed.
“What good would it do to tell him?” I finally said when I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, “We’re going different ways. We’re not compatible at all. He lives in Dubai. It’s on the other side of the world.”
“Madison, you should tell him.”
“Why? What difference would it make?” I replied irritably. The idea of confessing my real feelings to Alexander, the feelings I’ve been hiding for my entire adult life, made me feel light-headed. I’d been keeping the secret so long, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
“Because even if it doesn’t make a difference, you owe it to yourself. He wants you and you want him. Don’t you think you should just be honest with him and see where it goes?”
“But I know exactly where it would go. Nowhere. We’re both too stubborn to totally uproot our lives on a little fling. He wants me to come to Dubai, but what would I do there? Be his kept woman? I’m not a pet. And he’d get tired of me within a month. Haven’t you seen the women he dates in the tabloids? He’s got a new model every week.”
“Hmm,” Clara said noncommittally, “I still think you should tell him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I’d been having this argument with myself for three days, and I really wasn’t up to having it with Clara. The truth was, I was too afraid to tell him, plain and simple. Even if his feelings for me were real, which was by no means guaranteed, we weren’t compatible for a number of reasons. Our lives were on completely different trajectories, and our values were opposed in some very important ways. I would never be happy living in some luxury condo in Dubai, any more than he’d be happy in my walk-up in Brooklyn, or my shabby studio apartment in Port-au-Prince.
Not everyone gets to live happily ever after with the love of their life. A lot of people never get to be with the love of their life at all. Maybe they don’t meet until they’re both married. Or their families won’t let them be together. I got to have six days with mine. I should just be grateful for what I had while it lasted.
39
Alexander
My motorcycle didn’t fit in at all among the herd of subdued, darkly colored luxury SUV’s parked on the Ellis family’s long driveway. However, since I didn’t need an eighteen-foot parking space, I was able to pull right up to the front. I parked it right next to the front porch stairs, earning me a dirty look from a pair of well-heeled party guests whose expressions then turned into polite-bordering-on-obsequious smiles when I took off my helmet and they recognized me.
God, I hated politicians. The Ellis’ house looked like a tiny version of the White House, which was not an accident. Madison might believe in positive aspirations each morning in the mirror, but Senator Ellis took the concept a step further. His entire house was designed to help him keep his eye on the prize, and to give off the subtle impression to guests that he’d already achieved it. From what I could tell, the Senator’s strategy seemed to be working. The man had a decent shot at making it on the ticket during the next go-around, although he probably wouldn’t be on the top of it. The idea that our family pet might one day become president was a bit terrifying.
This all assumed that his daughter Angelica Hunt didn’t humiliate him somehow and ruin her father’s political career first. She was waiting for me just inside the door along with the Ellis family’s collection of Yorkshire terriers. I counted three yorkies and one Angelica in the pack. All of them were yappy and blonde. Like them, Angelica was very excited to see me.
“Alexander! I’m so glad you could make it to the party,” she said loudly, taking my arm possessively and leading me into the fray so people would see us together, “I love having the gang back together again.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thanks Angelica. Say, have you seen Madison?” I asked, deftly extricating myself from her grip under the guise of getting us both a drink. Before she could snatch me back, I dropped the champagne flute in her hand and stepped out of her reach.
Angelica’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Madison, but her smile stayed in place. I imagined her practicing that wooden smile every morning in the mirror before facing that gross old man she married. The thought of them together made my skin crawl. I felt so sorry for the old guy. And even sorrier for his kids that Angelica was scheming to get disinherited.
“No, I haven’t seen her yet. I’m not sure she’s coming,” Angelica said smoothly, “but you know how she is at parties. Always getting herself into trouble and embarrassing herself. Maybe it would be better if Madison didn’t make an appearance with this company.”
Ordinarily I would have ignored Angelica’s digs at Madison. Angelica mercilessly went after other women she was jealous of, which somehow seemed to be almost all women. But Madison in particular seemed to bother her. She’d been surprisingly vicious on Friday.
“Why does Madison bother you so much?” I asked Angelica. I was honestly interested in the answer. I didn’t want to waste too much time talking to her, but the question had been on my mind.
Angelica shrugged as if I’d asked her why she didn’t like spiders, or snakes.
“She’s just annoying,” Angelica answered after a second, attempting to frown but being too botox-ed to do so properly, “she was a pain in the ass as a kid, and now she thinks she’s so much smarter than everyone because she’s a lawyer and so much bette
r than everybody because she helps people for a living.”
I resisted pointing out the fact that Madison was, in fact, objectively smarter and better in every way. But Madison certainly didn’t ever rub it in that I’d seen. If anything, Madison was polite to a fault with Angelica, resisting her temper for Clara’s sake, no doubt. The idea that Angelica might think Madison was conceited was hilarious. There was no greater hypocrite on the face of the earth than the woman standing next to me. I smirked, and Angelica apparently thought that meant I’d agreed with her.
“Plus,” Angelica continued, “she was half the reason you got in trouble all those years ago. If she’d taken better care of Clara, it never would have happened.”
My smile grew despite the reference to my arrest. Angelica was really pulling out all the stops on her hypocrisy tonight. Far be it from me to point out how irresponsible Angelica had been to bring her own sister to our party all those years ago. Or that she’d been irritated over her own inconvenience rather than upset on her own sister’s behalf. And she blamed Madison? Madison saved Clara that night.
“Well, I like Madison,” I told Angelica, and I watched the blood drain out of her face, “I actually like her a lot. I’m going to go look for her.”
Walking away from Angelica felt amazingly liberating. I used to think that Angelica and I were very similar people. There was a time when I actually thought that I’d end up married to Angelica or someone like her, because we were both striving, focused, ambitious people who weren’t hung up on things like politeness or playing by the established rules.
But what I’d realized almost immediately was that I couldn’t stand Angelica or her methods of getting what she wanted. There’s a big difference between being uncompromising and driven and being a sociopath. I was fine with being the former, but couldn’t even stand being around the later.
Angelica and I had gone on exactly one date, shortly after my arrest. I’d asked her out for three reasons, only one of which was really related to Angelica. Firstly, I was trying to solve the mystery of Clara Ellis bailing me out of jail. I just wanted to see that blue Mercedes again to make sure it was the color I remembered to confirm my theory. Secondly, I was incredibly horny, twenty-three, and alive. Angelica had been throwing herself at me for months. Finally, I wanted to irritate my father, and I figured that wildly fucking and then ghosting the daughter of a political ally was sure to do that. All objectives were easily achieved except breaking Angelica’s heart. She didn’t have one. I later found out she only went out with me because she wanted to piss off another guy she was seeing. She was always working her angles.
Bleeding Heart (Scions of Sin Book 1) Page 21
