Afraid of Her Shadow

by Carol Maloney Scott

  Once inside, I spot him at the bar. It’s crowded, but Luke always stands out in a crowd. He’s wearing jeans and a forest green t-shirt. Somehow he makes the most casual outfit look like it belongs in a magazine spread. He’s sharing a laugh with the bartender and checking his cell phone. I’m a few minutes late because of the carwash fiasco.

  I stand up straight, smooth my skirt and saunter over to the bar. I wore something a little more fashionable to work today. Claire gave me grief, but I feel more confident meeting Luke in my flowing floral pleated skirt and matching fuchsia short sleeved sweater. A little low cut, but not over the top. Literally, my boobs are not falling out of the top. Simple low heeled white sandals encrusted with rhinestones complete the outfit. I told Claire she is my bling inspiration. She still scowled at me in disgust.

  Luke’s frown evaporates and melts into a warm, delicious smile as he looks up from his phone and sees me standing next to his bar stool.

  He immediately wraps me in a hug, which I accept. I don’t want to be rude in public.

  “I’m so glad you came. I was beginning to think you were standing me up.” He squeezes my arm, and I take a short step back.

  I explain the car wash issue and he laughs.

  “You have a bike rack on the back of your car? Wow, is Steve a magician, because that’s the only way I could see you on a bike.”

  I punch his arm, which actually hurts my hand. “Hey, we went on a mountain bike ride, and I did pretty well. I was laughed at by a toddler, but I didn’t sustain any injuries.”

  Still smirking at my story, he pulls out the stool beside him, but as I begin to sit he says, “Actually, why don’t we grab that table in the corner over there? It’ll be more comfortable. Did you eat? Let me order some wine for you.”

  He ushers me over to a quiet area of the bar before I can protest. Not that I would. He’s remembering how I don’t like to eat at a bar, and it’s dinner time. He’s just being thoughtful.

  “I don’t need dinner. I’m meeting Steve later.” I’m not, but it’s a good escape plan.

  He walks me over to the table and waits for me to sit before heading back to the bar to retrieve my wine. Watching him gives me goose bumps and I rub my arms.

  He sits down, a little closer than necessary, and places my wine in front of me. I take a sip and watch him look down at his fingers. I place my purse on the floor, and when I look up he says, “Rebecca, are you happy?” His deep, almost black eyes sear my heart and my breath catches in my throat.

  “Well, sure. Why? Didn’t you want to talk about your screenplay…or…?”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “I’m already bored with that. My backer isn’t cooperating. It seems she really had a thing for me, and she’s a bit peeved that I left town.”

  “So have you been playing your music at that club?”

  “Stop trying to change the subject.” He leans closer and I can feel the heat of his leg next to mine. It’s one of those curved booths and we are both dead center in the curve.

  I look around for the waitress. I could use a glass of water.

  I fold my hands in my lap and say, “I don’t understand the question. Why do you think I’m not happy?”

  “No spark. I see you with Steve, and I see no passion. He’s a nice guy, but you aren’t yourself. You’re jumpy and stressed, and...,” he leans in even closer, so now I can feel his breath on my cheek, “…if you were happy with this guy, you wouldn’t be here. I know you.”

  “I’m happy, there are just some…issues. That’s all.”

  He coaxes the issues out of me, and I end up telling him about Noreen and the house and all my fears. At least an hour has gone by, and I am worn out from the emotional vomit. The whole time he nods and makes the right faces for each part of the story. Now he’s rubbing my arm, and I’m trying to remember how to do my Pilates breathing.

  “Minha querida, I’m sorry you’re suffering with all of this. You certainly had no problem telling me when I was doing something you didn’t like. If you can’t talk to him freely from your heart, that’s a bad sign.” He gazes into my eyes. “Maybe you need to get away for a while. I know! Come to Portugal with me. I am planning a trip to the old country—to look up some family. Bask in the sun. You love traveling with me.” He flashes his perfect teeth.

  “What? Don’t you have to work?”

  “I don’t think I’ll be doing the evening news in Richmond for long. Why do you think I took this job?”

  I look down and panic rises in my core. He didn’t seem the least bit interested. Has he been playing a game? Biding his time? Is he just bored?

  “The years we spent together were the happiest of my life, but I won’t pressure you. Take your time. Think about it. I’ll be here for a while longer.” He stops running his fingers along my arm, and I quickly snatch it away, dropping both arms to my lap.

  “Luke, I love Steve, but yes, it’s a mess right now. I’m a little confused, but I am not going to do anything stupid.”

  He snaps his fingers. “Damn, you mean I can’t lure you up to my room?” When he sees my traumatized expression, he adds, “I’m teasing. I just remember you being a strong, independent woman. I don’t like to see you diminished.” He takes a sip of his beer and leans back, breaking the intimacy.

  He changes the subject before I can defend myself. “So, you are all moved into Steve’s house. What are you doing with your place?” He motions to the waitress and asks her to bring more drinks, and a few appetizers. The last thing I want to do is eat, but he holds his stomach and feigns starvation. Anything to prolong this conversation?

  “I’m not doing anything with it yet. Most of my stuff is still there. I rented a storage unit, but we are taking it slow with my place. I’m not ready to give it up yet.” This information will only feed his assertion that I’m not happy or committed to Steve, but he will drive by and see there is no “for sale” sign on the lawn.

  “I have a brilliant idea!” His raised voice catches the attention of a few nearby bar patrons, and I nervously glance around the room to see if I know anyone here.

  As I worry about being caught with Luke, I spot two people who should be more discreet. Son of a bitch, it’s Tim and Samantha, the front desk receptionist. He is practically shoving her into the elevator, and she’s giggling. He is such a moron. Doesn’t he realize that other people from Bella Donna could be out in public also? And how about his wife’s friends? Family? Shit, the irony of catching him cheating while I’m…never mind, I’m not doing anything wrong and I am going to get the hell out of here in a few minutes and distance myself from Luke once and for all.

  I turn back to Luke, saving my Tim problem for tomorrow at work. “What’s your idea?” I lower my voice in the hopes that it will cause him to lower his.

  “I could rent your condo until you decide what to do with it.” He thanks the waitress, who has just brought a plate of chicken wings and a bowl of fried calamari. My stomach growls, betraying my instinct to run. Wait, he can do what?

  “Rent my condo?”

  “Yes, it’s perfect. You can make some money to pay your mortgage, without committing to Steve or selling your house. And I can get out of this hotel and I live in comfortable and familiar surroundings while I plot my next move.” He searches my face for a response and continues. “I mean my next career move. What do you say?”

  Oh my God. He does have a point. It would be an easy way to pay my mortgage without having to sign a lease with a tenant. He won’t trash the place, and maybe he will end up in bed with Violet if I’m lucky. She’s crazy for him and he will grow bored with my rejection. Older women have to be losing their appeal for him. This could work. But what to tell Steve.

  “Who are you texting?” He is tapping away on his phone and looking very smug.

  “Steve. We exchanged numbers the other day. He was going to send me some information for a news story. About the college.” He smiles and hits send.

  “What did you say to him
? Did you tell him I’m here? I am going to kill you.” I ball up my fists, and his smirking only makes me angrier. “Did you really text Steve?” Maybe he’s just fucking with me to get back at me.

  “Yes, but relax. I just said we talked and thought renting your place would be a great idea, but wanted to make sure he was okay with it first. Basically I asked your Daddy’s permission to sleep in your bed.”

  Grrr... “Fine. Steve is a trusting soul. He will probably agree, and I will happily spend your money on redecorating our bedroom.” I stick my tongue out at him, and he returns the gesture with a seductive tongue roll, which makes him laugh, and me get warmer in all the wrong places.

  “I’m sorry, you set yourself up for that one.” He leans forward again and takes my hand. “Seriously, I wish you would reconsider what you’re doing. Give us another chance. I just want you to be happy, and if Steve makes you happy, I will dance at your wedding. But if not, I would like to be where you can easily find me.” He kisses my hand, and I agree to rent my condo to him.

  Steve is at class thinking he just has to bring a few things to Goodwill and everything is fixed. I know Luke could be shoveling with two hands, but just how deep is my hole going to get before I fall in?

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  “They were coming out of a sex toy shop? In broad daylight?” I cover my face with my hands, and tap my head on my desk. Gina has to be joking.

  “You know, it’s funny,” Claire chimes in, “when we were launching the new erotica line last year, Frank was the one brandishing a whip to tease me in his office, and Tim was the one who was super professional. Oh, how the tables have turned.”

  Frank is our happily married Editor-in-Chief. “Tim’s behavior has nothing to do with the books we’re selling. He’s just proving himself to be a dirt bag. But if Pam really thinks we lost the deal with such a successful author because of him, I am forced to investigate his behavior and go to the board.”

  I sigh and flashback to the noises I heard outside Tim’s door the same week the author in question, Marilyn Franklin, was in town. I can’t allow Tim to screw not only the administrative staff, but best-selling authors who want to sign with us. Obviously his performance must have been lacking if she’s pulled out. I almost gag myself with the sexual pun in reference to Tim.

  “You better do it soon because the rumors are flying fast. Have you caught him doing anything else unprofessional? You made mention of something going on that you couldn’t tell me due to HR confidentiality, right?” Gina looks at me and I cave.

  I bite my lip and Claire folds her arms across her chest in anticipation. I should duck before I spill this tidbit.

  “Last night I saw them at the Moseley Hotel.” I take a sip of the water on my desk and look back and forth between them, waiting for the interrogation to begin.

  “Did you seriously meet Luke at his hotel?” Claire huffs and shakes her head.

  “This is getting better all the time.” Gina pulls up a chair for a front row seat and leans towards my desk. “So what happened?”

  “Nothing happened! I met him at the bar because he won’t leave me alone, and I only wanted closure, but all I do is open up the box of temptation more and more.” I rest my head on my desk again. With all the drama in my life, I need to get it padded.

  Claire takes the other seat next to Gina and folds her hands in her lap, as if she is about to scold a child or talk a jumper off the edge. “Rebecca, I know things with you and Steve are rocky, but Luke isn’t the answer.”

  “I don’t know, he could be the answer to a few questions of mine.” Gina licks her lips seductively, and grows more serious as Claire’s eyes almost pop out of her head. “Yes, Claire is right. He is smoking hot, but wasn’t he a jerk in the end?”

  “Yes. Well, no. I don’t know. Maybe I was the jerk. Maybe I’m the jerk with Steve now. It’s all too complicated. He asked me to go to Portugal with him.” More glaring and eye popping. “I turned him down, but then he asked if he can rent out my condo until I decide to sell. Or move back in.”

  “What? Obviously you didn’t agree to that. He’s probably imagining secret rendezvous in the afternoon, since it’s so close to the office.” Claire laughs as if this is a preposterous idea and surely I had the sense to turn him down.

  I clear my throat. “Well, actually he texted Steve and asked him if it was okay. Steve thinks it’s a great idea.” I purse my lips.

  Claire says, “You can’t think that’s a good idea. And how could Steve think so? Does he care what you do at all? I mean, easy going is one thing, but he’s practically comatose. You should sell your condo. I can get my sister, Jackie, to recommend someone. She’s in the DC market, but she has lots of industry contacts. It’s a prime location and it would get snapped up in a weekend. Problem solved.”

  “I’m not ready. Things are moving too fast. I love Steve and I resisted Luke. Steve did take a bunch of stuff to Goodwill, and we’re continuing to work on the house. I tried to talk to him about Noreen’s memory, but I didn’t get very far.” Now the looks have turned sympathetic and Gina is reaching for my hand. Why do people do that?

  “But I am seeing this through. No one has ever made me this happy, or treated me so sweetly. He’s kind. That’s a rare commodity in the world of men. We have a problem, and I am going to get to the bottom of it!”

  “Amen!” Gina crosses herself and grins. These Catholics are such comedians.

  Claire says, “I’m glad to hear it. Now what are you going to do about Tim? I think you have to talk to Amanda. And Cecilia. Her new attitude would probably cause her to surrender and tell all. She referred to stupid Nathan as Hugh Hefner, and now we have own porn king of the literary world right here.” She screws up her pretty face into a creepy grimace.

  “I’m going to do all of that. Now, you ladies need to get back to work, or we will become the subject of gossip.” I flap my hands towards the door to signify the end of this pow-wow.

  Gina whistles and I’m sure dogs on the street are covering their ears. “That would be some juicy stuff—three women in a—”

  Claire grabs her shoulders and pushes her to the door. “Okay, that’s enough. Maybe that’s an idea you could pitch to one of your erotica authors.” They pause in the door. “And to think, I used to joke about people complaining about the toilet paper in the restrooms, and not only has that actually happened, but we have a full blown sex scandal to boot.”

  We all laugh at the irony, but after they leave I rub my forehead. Too many things are happening at once. And why doesn’t Steve seem to care about anything?

  Steve has bowling tonight, and I told him I was going to visit Violet after work, and check out my house to make sure it’s ready for Luke to move in by the weekend. Plus a dip in the pool would be refreshing, since Steve’s neighborhood is without community amusements. I also plan on dissuading Violet from pursuing Luke, now that I’ve had more time to reflect on the situation. I wanted to give him a chance, but now I can see his motives aren’t exactly pure. I would feel terrible if she dated him and got hurt in the process, but I keep going back and forth on this issue since Violet is an adult and capable of making her own decisions. I just don’t want to throw a friend under the bus to save my own neck.

  As I pull into the condo complex, my eyes scan the area to see if Luke might be lurking. An hour later, Violet and I are relaxing by the pool after giving my place the once over. I am going to call a cleaning service, since I’m not adept in that area, and I packed up a few more things of mine.

  I hadn’t realized that I left my entire lingerie chest full. Unbelievable. That just reinforces the dismal state of my love life lately, and Steve hasn’t even mentioned my lack of sexy nightwear. I thought it was packed in one of the boxes, and I hadn’t gotten to it yet. Luke would have had a field day with that! I’m sure he would have imagined that I left it all there on purpose for him. Whew, dodged a bullet there.

  “So when Luke moves in, do you think you guys will get
together?” I don’t want to completely change my stance on him too abruptly, because then she may think I’m jealous and want him back. I wish I hadn’t softened and encouraged her after my initial reaction.

  Violet isn’t quite as mummified as usual, since her body has now seen the sun on the kayaking trip and a few carefully timed pool sessions. Her skin is a darker shade of white now, and her hair glistens in the sun. Her light pink, gauzy cover-up offers minimal protection in her microscopic fuchsia string bikini. “God, I hope so,” she replies. “He’s a beautiful specimen, for sure. We had a nice long chat when he dropped off the clock. I invited him in, and we had some wine. I felt like we may have a connection.”

  Now I’ll feel foolish if I bash him. I haven’t told her of his offer to take me to Portugal, his bed, almost the altar. I don’t want her to feel like second choice when he accepts my rejection and notices how great she is. However, Violet is a big girl and she can kick his ass if necessary.

  We talk about the house and Steve, and I tell her about the progress we’ve made. As with my other friends, I leave out the negative parts. I am getting tired of everyone’s judgment. I change my mind every time I talk to someone different, yet the people talking in my head argue just as much. Maybe I need to see a professional to referee the match.

  “We should go shopping. Some new things for the house would make it feel more like your own. There are some great sales. I was looking in some of the stores where my brides have their registries.” Violet opens up her mini cooler and pulls out another water, taking a sip and pressing the cold, wet bottle to her cheek.

  “What? Between the two of us, we have enough crap. I am dying to unload more of the stuff in that house, and eventually I will move my things in. All that compulsive buying just leads to the place looking like a hoarder’s den.”

  “Did she really collect that much stuff?”

  “Yes, I am finding new piles and stashes daily. It’s very unnerving. And Steve just avoids it all and goes bowling and bike riding.” Oops, I meant to keep the Steve angle positive. “It’s frustrating because I want to be nice and compassionate about preserving her memory. You know, the whole respect for the dead thing? But I haven’t discovered one thing that makes me like her.”