by J. J. Sorel
He was on the fifth floor, so I rode the elevator. As I leaned up against the wall, my heart raced at the thought of seeing him. I hoped he hadn’t returned. That way I could change into his shirt as promised.
Deciding to knock first, I waited for a response. Hearing none, I used my new key.
Strange how a key could mean so much.
I entered and placed the groceries on the table so that I could sit for a moment. It had been an eventful twenty-four hours, and my breathing had yet to settle back to a relaxed rhythm, it seemed.
Looking around the room, I noticed there were no photos or any of the normal bric-a-brac usually found in a person’s home, which was unlike my place that bordered on a hoarder’s den. Sentimentalist to a fault, I’d kept everything, even my toys and first scribblings as a toddler.
Enjoying the peace after traversing the crowded city, I stretched my legs out on the sofa. In so doing, I accidentally knocked over a notebook, which fell open on the ground. Bending over to pick it up, I noticed the bold handwritten title: Things I Must Do.
Although I shouldn’t have, I did the unthinkable and read on.
My eyes landed on the first line: Find dirt on Justin. Seduce his
girlfriend. And fuck her.
Pausing there, I read it again and again before dropping the book as if
it was poison.
Nausea churned away, and my veins iced.
In a daze, I lifted my frozen form and walked out.
Two hours later, I turned my phone on, only to discover countless messages from Bronson. Peering down at the screen, my eyes burned from an endless deluge of tears.
Why carve our names on the tree? Why the key?
Questions kept running through my frantic thoughts.
My phone rang, and I jumped. This time I picked up. I wanted an explanation. Taking a deep breath, I waited for my chest to relax so that I could speak. “Hello.”
“It’s me, Cas,” she said.
“Hey.”
“You sound surprised,” she said.
“I was expecting someone else,” I said.
“You don’t read your screen?”
“Normally I do. But I’m having a bad time.” My voice cracked up. Tears banked up again. Where had they all come from? It was as though I’d cut the carotid artery equivalent to despair.
“Bronson called Marc,” she said.
“Oh?” I sat up. “That’s normal, isn’t it? They are cousins.”
“The call was about you. Bronson’s worried. You were meant to meet, apparently, and you weren’t picking up the phone. That’s why he asked Marcus to ask me to call you.”
I almost laughed. That was so unlike Bronson, Mr. Private. It must have taken a lot for him to do that.
I sighed deeply. “We actually made out.” I cringed. That sounded weak and childish. Our lovemaking meant more to me than some loose sexual encounter.
“You did?”
The surprise in her voice made me wince.
“Bronson carved our initials into a tree and he gave me a key…” I cracked up again. Sniffling, I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose.
“That soon? I mean you seemed chatty with one another. Shit. Ava. He’s kind of bad, isn’t he?”
“No. I mean, maybe… Oh fuck… What have I done?”
“You’re not pregnant?”
I laughed through my tears. “That’s ludicrous. We only got together last night for the first time.”
“And he’s given you a key and carved your initials into a tree?”
Her incredulous tone made me want to laugh, scream, and cry all at the same time. “I know it seems a bit rushed. But he was hard to resist.”
“I get it, Aves, Bronson’s seriously hot. Was he worth it?”
“Ha?” My head was somewhere else. All I could think of was that notebook.
“He must be crazy about you because he made Marcus promise he’d get me to call you. According to Marc, Bronson was really freaking out, which apparently is not like him because Bronson rarely expresses his feelings.”
I exhaled a deep breath and told Cassie about point two on the list: fucking me to get back at Justin.
“Ouch. Right. But he seems crazy about you. He’s obviously had a change of heart. Because from where I’m sitting it sounds like Bronson’s fallen hard.”
“Like me. I’ve fallen hard, too, Cassie.”
“Sweetheart, call him and talk about it. He’s been through a lot. Maybe that was the deranged version of him. I can’t imagine what it would be like locked up in prison. And Marc’s convinced Bronson was innocent.”
She spoke so much sense that a weight lifted off my shoulders. “Cassie, thanks for calling. I need to go. I’ll call you soon.”
“Are you going to call him?”
“Probably.”
I closed the call, and stretched out on my sofa, resting the back of my hand on my forehead.
My cell rang again, making me jump.
That thumping intro to “Smoke on the Water” had to go. It was Justin’s doing. He’d mucked around with my ringtone as a joke one night.
This time I checked the screen. Seeing that it was Bronson, I took the call. “Bronson.” I kept my tone cool and formal.
“Ava. Why?”
“Why?” I asked.
“I can see you’ve been here by the groceries on the bench. But why run off and then not take my calls?”
“Was there a camera hidden somewhere in your bedroom?” I asked.
“What?” His surprised tone reminded me how crazy my question must have sounded.
“How else were you going to prove to Justin that we’d fucked?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BRONSON
My eyebrows couldn’t squeeze tight enough. I had no idea what had come over Ava. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you seduce me to get back at Justin? And fucking me was the prize.”
Who’d gotten into her head? I wondered. “Have you been speaking to Justin?”
“No, Bronson. But I saw it written there in your diary.”
“You read my diary?” I asked.
“I didn’t mean to. It fell on the ground, and when I picked it up, that passage to get back at Justin by fucking his girlfriend jumped out at me…” She paused to clear her throat. “It was impossible not to notice. I didn’t read anything else. That’s not my style. I’m not the snooping type.”
I wanted to hit my head against a wall in frustration. “Shit” was the best I could offer.
What could I say? That had been my aim.
But not anymore.
“Are you there?” I asked.
“Yes. But only just.”
“Ava, don’t hang up. I want to see you. To explain. I’m not good over the phone. Words don’t come naturally to me. I wrote that before I met you. But when I got to know you the game changed.”
“So, it is a game?”
“Hell, no. That’s a figure of speech. Ava… please don’t do this. I need to see you. To explain. I just wanted to get back at fucking Justin for taking a year of my life away. I didn’t realize I’d fall so hard….”
“So hard?”
A jagged breath left my lips. “Say you’ll see me.”
There was a pause again. My heart had sunk so low I could barely breathe.
“We can meet. Tomorrow. At the same place by the tree.”
“The tree?” I asked.
“You’ve forgotten already?”
“No. Of course, not. I’m just not thinking straight. I’ll be there. What time?”
“It has to be after I finish work. After eight.”
“That’s too long to wait. But I’ll be there, Ava.”
“Okay then,” she said.
I could hear her breathing, which reminded me of her sweet breath on my ear as I held her close.
“I meant everything that I said last night. Everything. It’s not just that tree that you’re carved into but also deeply in me.”
“Tomorrow, my angel.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Setting down my cell, I headed straight for the bottle of bourbon.
The light was so bright that I squinted as I sat outside an office. Nightmares had made for a bad night’s sleep. And I felt jumpy after four cups of strong coffee.
Ava was everywhere.
When I fell into bed, her scent assaulted me, which brought our lovemaking back vividly. Fragrances were like that. My body still tingled with her memory. But after I fell asleep, the nightmares came in relentless waves. One ugly image after another. Distorted faces and voices. The sounds were the scariest. Voices in the distance like ghosts calling out my name. I woke at four with a jolt and never made it back to sleep.
The secretary showed me into an office. Being called in had come as a surprise, given that we’d only had a meeting yesterday.
Amber Moore had called later that same afternoon, explaining that she wished to discuss my designs.
I couldn’t tell her age only because of all the work she’d had done on her face. One thing I could tell, though, by the way her eyes wandered from my eyes all the way down to my crotch, that she was hungry for some cock.
Standing up, she came toward me. I looked up at her, and my brow flinched.
“So, Bronson Lockhart, I hear you’ve only just got out of prison.”
My jaw tightened. “And?”
A slow smile formed on her plumped lips. “Your designs are impressive.”
“Okay. Thanks. Look, Miss Moore…”
“Call me Amber,” she interjected with a breathy voice.
“You said that you needed to see me urgently before the submission could be processed. James Lockhart’s running the company, as no doubt you’re aware. Shouldn’t he be the person you need to speak to?”
She went over to a cabinet and lifted a bottle of bourbon. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No. I’m good.”
“I just wanted to meet you—the man of the moment. You’ve made a lot of people excited… me included.”
“Okay. Good. I worked hard for a year on those designs.”
“In prison?”
I sat forward. “Miss Moore. Amber, I mean. What’s this really about?”
Her eyes once again roamed over my body. This time they remained. “I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”
I crossed my arms, and her eyes settled on my shoulders before traveling down again. My legs were slightly apart, my natural seated position. One didn’t need to be clairvoyant to sense that Amber was hitting on me big time.
“I just wanted to meet to tell you how impressed we were. And that after James delivers a workable budget, we’ll probably sign off on it. I wanted to give you the news personally.”
The “personally” sounded like a purr.
I nodded. “That’s good news.” I tried to keep it brief and professional because I got the vibe I might need to fuck for my supper. Which was not going to happen.
Not with Ava’s scent on my skin.
She rolled her tongue over her lips. Walking past me, she dropped her pen—deliberately I was sure, since she bent down, giving me an eyeful of tits as she remained longer than necessary.
“Amber… I’m seeing someone.”
She rose and adjusted her tight skirt. “So?”
I stood up. “That’s great news about the project. Thank you. Is there anything else?”
She studied me for a moment, sucking on her pen as if it were a dick. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you without your clothes on, prison boy.”
My forehead lowered sharply. “What? Is the grant contingent on me showing you my dick?”
She shrugged with a slight cock of her head. “Maybe.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“You’re seriously hot, Bronson. And I’m horny as hell.”
“I’m in love with another woman. If that’s the only reason why you’re backing our project, then all I can say is…” My throat was tight from agitation. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
I softened my response at the last minute because I really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself.
Rushing out before it turned nasty, I headed straight out of the building with black glass for walls.
When I got to the street, my eyes settled on a bar. A stiff bourbon suddenly had my name on it.
After two shots, my nerves settled.
Replaying what had just taken place, I felt profound sympathy for the many women who were hit on inappropriately every day in workplaces. Amber had just demonstrated what fucking for one’s supper felt like. And as much as I probably would have fucked her if Ava hadn’t stolen my heart, the merits of my project suddenly lost out.
I called James.
“Bronson.”
“Hey… Um… something just happened.”
“Tell me.”
I exhaled a deep breath. “I was called in for a meeting with Amber Moore. And she basically tried to seduce me.”
“She made no secret of her attraction yesterday. I’m not surprised. I take it you didn’t return the favor?”
“No fucking way.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, we may have lost out because of it.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not sure. But I got a bit pissed off.”
“Right. Well… that’s understandable.”
“It means we may have lost the funding. Without that, it’s not going to be possible, is it?”
“Leave it with me. I’ll do some digging. I might even call this Amber myself. The buck doesn’t stop with her anyway. Remember, she’s one of a committee of twelve. If anything, this could get her into trouble.”
“I don’t want to take it further, James. My life’s complicated enough as it is.” I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Leave it with me. We’ll talk.”
“Thanks,” I said, gulping down my shot.
After I left the bar, I passed a tattoo parlor and paused for a moment before walking in.
A heavily tattooed man looked up from his newspaper. “Hey, man, what can I do for you?”
“Something tasteful, not too big. How long will it take?” I looked down at my watch and saw that it was five o’clock. I had three hours before meeting with Ava.
I’d already been counting the minutes away.
“Depends on the colors, the detail. What are you after?”
Undoing my shirt, I touched my chest. “Here in the heart area.”
He pointed for me to sit on the chair.
Holding a book with designs, he asked, “Let me guess, a girl’s name?”
I nodded. “Have you got a rose in a heart?”
“Sure have. That’s a classic. What’s the name?”
“Ava.”
“That shouldn’t take long. Short and sweet.” He opened up his designs and showed me a red rose embedded in a heart. “How about that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Nice. And her last name happens to be Rose.”
“Good.” He studied me for a moment as if sizing me up. Even though I’d had that all my life I’d never gotten used to it.
“Is there an issue?” I asked.
“None, man… Only, it’s going to hurt.”
“Anything to do with the heart generally does,” I said, tilting my head. “I’m a grown man. I’m no pussy when it comes to pain.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” he said with a throaty laugh. “Are you sure she’s the one? I mean, this is indelible.”
“I’ve never been more certain. Even if she walks. I’ll still hold her here.” I touched the spot to be inked.
He nodded. “We’re passionate about our women, us men. They think it’s only them. But when we love, we go all the fucking way.” His dark eyes had that worn, trusty glow about them.
&n
bsp; My lips curled up at one end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AVA
Charlie greeted me with his customary cheerful smile as I stepped into the dimly lit cubicle. “What floor, ma’am?”
Maybe he was going senile after all, I thought. The fact I’d only ridden the elevator the day before took me aback. “Ten, please, Charlie.” I emphasized his name.
He nodded. “Agatha’s it is.”
“We spoke yesterday, and you mentioned Ashley, Aggie’s late husband.” I jumped straight in. Knowing that we had precious seconds, I needed all the information I could get.
“A good, upstanding man. Great tipper. Aggie wasn’t so good. Depended on the day. And how much she’d had to drink.” He chuckled.
“Was Aggie a big drinker back then?”
“No more than any of us. We all like a bit of fun, don’t we? And banning booze had made it so difficult. Hanging out with mobsters to get a fill.”
“Ha?” I replied, just as the elevator arrived.
I remained on the spot. “You were around during the Prohibition?”
“I’ve been here from the beginning.” A smile crossed his face again. “Have a good day, ma’am.”
I stepped out of the lift. Aggie owned the entire floor and above. But what about below? I wondered. And why was the elevator always on the ground floor whenever I arrived?
I’d never seen anyone in the lobby. It felt as if I were in an episode of The Twilight Zone, a show my dad had introduced me to and one that I’d grown very fond of due to its themes of parallel worlds and time distortions.
When I arrived at the door, I knocked before turning the key.
I crossed the large, sunny living room, and looking through the French doors onto the terrace, I discovered Aggie on her cane throne.
Despite the relief at finding her well again, I felt a tinge of disappointment too. Curiosity had gotten the better of me. Upstairs had become that place of mystery that I found myself thinking about.
“There you are,” said Aggie.
“Hi… I let myself in. I did knock.”
“Yes. Yes. That’s why I gave you the key. Saves me from having to get up.” She leaned in for a cigarette.
