by Shayne Ford
“What was that spark in your eye, Preston?”
He purses his lips and crushes a smile. My lips curve into a slow grin.
“No. You did not... Please tell me it’s not a surprise birthday party.”
He nods softly.
“Yes, it is. And I’m so glad it fucking is. Otherwise, it would be a self-pity party the whole damn evening.”
“Shut up, Preston.”
He dismisses me with a flick of his hand.
“Ready?” he says, pushing out of his seat.
Reluctantly, I rise as well, a foreboding sensation rolling over me.
“Where exactly is the party?”
He avoids my eyes, his hand curling around my shoulder.
“You’ll see, Harrington. That’s why it’s called a surprise party. And don’t get any ideas. There’s nothing kinky about it.”
“Oh, thanks... Good to know. I was getting worried for a moment,” I say, rolling my eyes.
2
LEX
“Are you kidding me? He’s back?” I toss at Ed incredulously as Ed motions me to steer left, and I take the road to the Dark House.
He whips his gaze away and looks out the window, grinning.
“So Rain’s pictures were a fucking setup. You were lying and playing me like a jerk...”
I stretch my hand out and grab the back of his neck.
“Answer me, Preston!” I say, shaking him.
He swings his eyes back at me, and then I realize he’s laughing.
He nods, amused.
“You’ve been plotting with them?” I ask, grappling with disbelief.
“A little. The pictures are real. They changed the return date so they can be here today.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I’m bored. And you’re no fun.”
“Fucking ass,” I say, shaking my head. “One day, you’ll grow up–– hopefully, out of the spoiled brat that you are. Just because I’m no fun is not a good reason to pull them back from their vacation.”
“He had enough. Have you seen how tanned he is?”
I sway my head side to side, grinning.
“You sound like you’re about to have a problem, Ed. First, you mess with that chat girl just for the hell of it. And now you fuck with me. And the worst of all, you play games with James. If he catches on you played him, you’re fucked.”
“I told him the truth.”
“But that’s not why he’s back,” I say, glancing at him suspiciously.
“No,” he says, serious. “It’s because of you.”
My smile dies out.
We ride in silence for the next fifteen minutes before we pass through the iron gates and roll slowly through clusters of old trees and blooming shrubs.
The summer is almost here. The evenings are warm, the flowers scenting the air.
Cars fill the space in front of the guest house. This is not exactly a surprise party. The real surprise is them being back.
I pull the black Ferrari to a smooth stop and climb out of my ride.
“Please tell me they’re not doing one of those shouting things...” I say as we take the stairs to the entrance, and silence comes from inside the house.
Without a word, he cracks the door open and motions me in, and that’s exactly what rolls in my ears.
“Surprise!”
The lights turn on, and a foyer crammed with people fills my sight.
It takes me about twenty minutes to shake hands and exchange greetings with everyone before the party gets started.
“Where is he?” I ask, skimming the crowd.
Ed elbows me discreetly and motions to the terrace.
I flick my eyes in that direction and quickly spot the man who has his gaze pinned on me, and the blonde woman standing by his side.
Grinning, I stride to them. Their faces light up with a smile.
“Fucking James Sexton. How could you plot with him behind my back?”
James’ eyes fill with the light of a grin.
He gives me a hug and pats me on my back.
“Special circumstances, baby. He gave me the scoop on your life. He told me what you’ve been doing,” he says, winking at Ed, who observes us from the side.
Biting his lip, he suppresses a smirk.
“You shouldn’t have come back earlier on my account.”
“We haven’t,” he says, his arm snaking around Rain’s shoulders.
I shift my eyes to her.
“Happy Birthday, Lex!” she says.
Her voice is sweet, her eyes soft.
She only tears away from him for a second to kiss me on my cheek before she glues back to him, melting into him.
She still feels special to me after all this time.
“How was Greece?” I ask, pushing that thought to the side. “Your pictures look great. Both of you look fantastic,” I say, my eyes darting back and forth between them.
She smiles as she gets swept away by the memory, his face lighting up with a nostalgic grin.
“It was good,” he says.
The noise gets louder, so we break away from the crowd and retreat into a corner of the terrace where a table is set for us.
For the rest of the evening, I do my best to enjoy my birthday party although the more time passes by, and the more moments I spend with them, the more I realize that something’s missing.
LEX
It’s almost three o’clock in the morning, when the house empties, the last guests climbing into their cars and driving away.
Ed vanishes in one of the rooms with a blonde stuck to his arm as James’s footsteps echo inside the house.
I’m on the patio, sitting at the table.
The doors to the living room are wide open, the floors getting swept by a warm breeze.
James walks to the bar and fixes himself a drink before he glances at me.
“You want something?”
“I’m all set,” I say, raising my glass.
He picks up his pack of cigarettes along with his drink and heads my way. A moment later, he sinks into a chair next to me.
A sharp looking, silver shirt stretches across his muscular shoulders. The color makes his bronzed skin glow like silk in the soft light of the candles.
His dress pants do him justice as well. He’s never looked better.
He runs a hand through his dark hair and slips a cigarette between his lips. The flame flares for a moment, gleaming brightly in his dark-green eyes, highlighting the secret smile curling his lips.
“Love does wonders, doesn’t it?” I murmur and take a sip of my drink.
“Yes, it does,” he mutters, smiling to a private thought.
“I’m happy for you, man... I really am. It’s good to know there’s something else out there,” I say.
He swings his gaze up, getting a glimpse of my rueful smile.
“Is that what it is?”
He takes a drag off his cigarette and studies me briefly before he turns his head to the side and breathes the smoke out.
“What did he tell you?” I ask, letting out a quiet chuckle.
His gaze shifts to his hands as he starts playing with his lighter.
A soft smile tilts his lips before he raises his eyes to me.
“He said you’re getting old.”
Laughter rolls off my lips.
“Did he? Motherfucker... I bet he didn’t say what he’s been doing lately.”
He shakes his head.
“Of course he didn’t. He’s too busy getting into my business.”
“What the hell did he do?”
“He’s sex-chatting some sexpot who’s driving him crazy with her teasing pictures.”
He motions to the house with the hand holding his cigarette. A few sparks fly away.
“Isn’t he in one of the rooms with a blonde?”
I nod.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he says.
“That’s not why I’m concerned. He doesn’t know who the c
hatting woman is. In all fairness, she doesn’t have a clue who he is either. He says she’s some twenty-year-old, and she thinks he’s a twenty-three-year-old student.”
He laughs quietly.
“He’s clearly bored,” he says.
“Or lonely.”
A smile rolls to his lips.
“Are you talking about him or you?” he asks.
His eyes lock mine for a moment before he shifts his gaze away and taps his cigarette above the ashtray. More sparks of light get swept away by the wind.
“It’s probably both...” I mutter after a moment. “Monday through Friday it’s work. Evenings, we go to Red’s, or we end up in the Casino. And then we start all over again the next day.”
“Women?”
“There are women... Nothing to write home about. They got wind of the fact that you’re off the market, and the supply has been redirected to him and me. And now I know why you were so pissed with them before. It gets old after a while. I’m not surprised he’s chatting some faceless woman over the Internet. I’d probably end up doing the same thing. It’s just not my style.”
We stay quiet for a few moments.
“How was Europe?”
“Good. Different.”
“And you two?”
He smiles. Happy. Calm. I envy him for a moment.
“It’s even better than I imagined.”
“I’m glad it worked out in the end.”
He pauses and then takes a long drag. He exhales the smoke and puts the cigarette out.
“You’ll find her, Lex... One day you will.”
I take a swig of my drink and study his eyes.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do...”
“You didn’t find Rain. She found you. That was fate if you ask me. And it made you two cross paths more than once.”
“It’s true, but all the things that mean something in the end, more or less come that way. Sometimes when you expect them the least, and quite often when you’re about to lose hope. You can never tell. Was I lucky? You know damn well I was. I know what you miss. I missed that too, but unlike you, I couldn’t put my finger on it, and when I finally met her, I played with her and screwed things up a few times, something that you’d never do. You’re ahead of the game, brother.”
I let the last few drops of scotch roll onto my tongue before I swallow the last swig of liquor.
“You can take some time off if you want to,” he says, leaning back in his chair, and folding his arms across his chest.
I train my eyes on him, memories coming back to me.
Almost four years ago–– the night not much different than tonight, he had Rain in his bedroom for the first time. He kissed her, and she wanted him that night despite the fact that she’d never been with a man before.
He was a free man then–– we all were, and life was good. Everything made sense.
We didn’t care much about anything. We lived life fully without missing a damn thing.
Our voices and laughter still echo in this house.
We dared him to have her–– make a woman out of her, or let us. He said no. No to us. Not before him, he joked.
I push the memory away.
“No. I’m fine. I don’t mind the work,” I say, my voice sounding hollow. “Are you flying back to New York?”
“Yeah. We’ll be back in a week or two, and we’ll probably spend the summer here.”
“That’s good,” I mutter.
I push the chair back, his gaze following me as I stand up.
“You can use one of the bedrooms if you want to,” he says.
I pick up my phone and car keys.
“No. It’s fine. I have to be in the office early morning,” I say.
Moments later, I roll my car through silent trees and deserted alleys and take the empty road back home.
3
DAHLIA
“It looks good,” Christine says.
“Are you sure? Don’t you think it’s too much?” I ask, moving the phone up and down and around so that the camera captures most of my attire.
I glance in the mirror. The business skirt suit looks great.
Royal blue, the fabric ––a fine quality wool crepe, not too heavy for a summer day, falls smoothly on my body.
Tailored, the jacket has a nipped waist, the slightly padded shoulders giving it a beautiful V-shape. A matching pencil skirt stops above my knees, closely following the lines of my thighs.
High heel shoes complete my look.
“Why would you say that?” Chris, my best friend, mumbles in my phone.
I raise my phone to get a glimpse of her.
A girlish face framed by shoulder length black hair fills my phone screen. Her eyebrows pull up slowly, a questioning look rolling onto her face.
“It’s too elegant, and it’s definitely not for the job I am applying for,” I argue.
“And that makes total sense,” she says, her logic not quite in my grasp. “It’s only temporary work until Sheila comes back from the medical leave. And then, hopefully, you’ll get your dream job in my Department. You dress for the job you want not the one that you have.”
I flick my hand up, breathing out a soft chuckle.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I haven’t even gotten Sheila’s job.”
“You’ll get it. Don’t worry. You have a business degree. Trust me. You’re overqualified.”
“And I have zero experience,” I say, suddenly gloomy. “Her job is not exactly a walk in the park either. She’s not some low-level secretary who does meaningless filing, answers the phone and brings coffee to her boss. She’s an Executive Assistant for fuck’s sake. To the CEO,” I say, increasingly exasperated.
“You have the knowledge, Dahlia. Don’t despair. Your computer and communication skills are flawless. Unlike her, you have a business degree. I’m sure you know how to generate expense reports, book his trips, organize presentations and generally speaking, manage his schedule.”
I take a long breath.
“And you say he’s not an ass.”
“No, he’s not. I’ve never heard anyone in the firm complaining about him. He’s very rigorous, and he hates slackers, but you are the opposite of that. Believe me, they would’ve never considered you for this job, let alone move you through three rounds of interviews, had they had the slightest suspicion that you’re not capable enough.”
“Okay,” I say with a mellow voice.
“So yeah. Dress for success, and make sure he understands how valuable you are to this company.”
“Are you sure it’s him I have the interview with?”
“There’s no one else but him. You passed every other interview with flying colors, so now it’s really up to him to pick the person he wants as a replacement for his secretary. And it has to be a quick decision since she leaves a week from now.”
“All right. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
She’s about to hang up when I flick my hand up.
“Hey... Wait. What about the makeup? More? Less? None?”
I use the phone screen as a mirror, and her big blue eyes start roving over my face.
“It looks good.”
“That’s almost no makeup.”
“I think you should stick with that. You don’t want to distract people.”
“You mean in a good way or in a bad way?” I ask, finding my sense of humor.
“You know what I mean.”
According to Chris, I have what she calls a canvas face. Symmetrical features, chiseled cheekbones, and colors that blend. Hair the color of the amber honey, and eyes the color of the meadows in the spring, greenish-brown.
The makeup highlights my features often times to the point where it makes me unrecognizable, the same way a model pulls off looks so much different than the real life.
A broad variety of colors agrees with my complexion so much so I can easily go from the ingenue to the femme fatale look with only a few strokes of a br
ush and a liner.
She also says I should try my luck in fashion, but she knows me well enough not to insist.
“Okay. I guess I’ll go with the plain look.”
“Not mousy.”
“No, no... I got it.”
“See you later.”
I set the phone on the table, brush my hair back and tie it in a ponytail.
The phone starts ringing as I step out. My mom sends me her best wishes and keeps her fingers crossed for me. She knows how important this job is for me.
Forty-five minutes later, and a half hour earlier than the time set for my interview, I walk through a large corridor and stop in front of a reception desk.
The place is quiet and beautifully furnished.
“How may I help you?” asks the girl behind the desk.
She’s about my age, early twenties.
Raising her gaze, she studies me with curious eyes.
“I have a nine o’clock appointment with Mr. Harrington,” I say, half of my voice already gone.
Damnit.
I clear my throat and wait for an opportunity to speak again, perhaps more assertively.
She runs her gaze over the screen. Her face lights up.
“Dahlia Fox.”
“Yes.”
She swings her gaze at me again.
“This is the last interview, isn’t it?” she says, smiling.
“Yes,” I say nervously.
She presses the intercom button.
“Ms. Lane? Dahlia Fox is here.”
Without another word, she releases the button, and a door slides open at the back of the corridor.
Sheila Lane, the woman I’m supposed to replace temporarily, heads our way, her face beaming with a smile. I take it as a good sign the fact that she comes all the way to greet me, and then she walks me to a small waiting area not far from the boardroom.
“Mr. Harrington is on his way.”
She checks the time on a small bejeweled watch wrapped around her wrist, the tiny gems encrusting the gadget matching her attire.
Her champagne, voile dress features a flattering cut, showcasing her silhouette. The color sets off her dark copper-brown hair. Her gaze slides down to me as she takes in my suit.
