Cruel Desire

by K. A. Linde

  I leaned back in my seat in relief. I’d gone to New York to help the mayor win reelection by getting her son to fall into line. I’d done it. Mostly.

  And now… it was over.

  It was all over.

  We settled Taylor back into my old room on the first floor since she couldn’t get upstairs to hers. My room had long since been a guest room that essentially collected odds and ends. The bed had been pushed into a far corner to make room for an elliptical and sewing machine. Right now, all of Ashley’s current business venture products were scattered across the space. Though she promised to move everything upstairs.

  Taylor used her crutches, which she was still trying to figure out how to best maneuver with through the pain, to get into the empty bed. I carried my carry-on up the stairs and placed it into Taylor’s room. Nothing had changed since she moved out. It still looked like a young artist’s dream with sketches and poems plastering the blue walls. Paint and clay and notebooks filled every available space. Her bedspread was a map of the constellations.

  It felt weird to stay here. I hadn’t stayed here for more than a night since my dad kicked me out at seventeen. My dad had kicked me out at sixteen, but it hadn’t stuck. The second time, it had, and I’d moved in with my boyfriend. A boyfriend I’d promptly broken up with after graduation. How I’d ever gone to UCLA and made something of myself was a real mystery.

  But I wasn’t here for a walk down memory lane. I was here for Taylor. At least for a little while as she got settled, started with her new doctor, and got into physical therapy. My dad had gotten her a medical exemption for the semester at The New School. I just hoped she’d be able to go back to school after all of this. I couldn’t imagine wanting to return to New York.

  That was a conversation for later. Much later.

  Since my dad had to get back to work and Ashley had recently gotten a part-time job working at a daycare, I promised to take Taylor to her appointments when no one else was around. It was monotonous. And Taylor was unsurprisingly in a shit mood about it. She was still upset that she hadn’t been allowed to see Bea. Seeing as there was nothing I could do about that, she seemed to take it out on me more.

  I didn’t really care. I was used to clients taking out their issues on me. It just sounded like background noise. And anyway, none of them had been shot. So, I cut her some slack.

  Even if being back at home was super strange, being back in LA felt… wonderful. It felt like home. The constant weather. The horrid commuter traffic. Even the smell was different than New York.

  Taylor had gone to bed early. I sat up late on the couch with my computer in my lap. I was still plotting out my business. Deciding if I even wanted to do it. I had to push back my appointments with the real estate agent. I didn’t even know if I was going to open the business… let alone open in New York.

  Suddenly, I heard someone coming down the steps. Everyone in my house went to bed early and woke early. Since I was still sleeping like absolute shit, I did neither. And I was surprised that anyone was awake.

  My dad appeared in those same shorts he’d always worn and a plain gray T-shirt. “Hey, Bug.”

  “Dad,” I said with a nod of my head.

  “Want a beer?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “This late?”

  “Eh, never hurt anyone.”

  “Sure. I’ll have one.”

  He went into the kitchen and came out with two Heinekens. He passed one to me, and I silently sipped the beer. I didn’t drink a lot of beer. But it used to be the only thing I could afford. It brought me back to being seventeen with a dirtbag boyfriend or being a groupie in the back of a rock star’s bus or going to frat parties. Lots of frat parties.

  “You know, I appreciate what you’ve done for Taylor,” he said after a minute.

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  “But when are you moving on?”

  I blinked up at him. “What?”

  “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Are you kicking me out?” I stammered out. “Again?”

  “No, it’s not like before.”

  “Then, what? You don’t want me here?” I couldn’t keep the sad, broken thing inside of me from unraveling.

  “That’s not it either. You have a life. And you can’t just hide here.”

  I swallowed hard. “So, you want me to leave?”

  “I want you to live.”

  I shook my head and closed my computer. I took another long sip of my drink. “I am living. I just need to take a break from everything that went wrong.”

  “I know you told me some of what happened. I confess not to understand most of it. But what I did get out of it is that there’s a boy back in New York City who loves you,” my dad said.

  I sputtered, spewing some of my beer. I swiped my hand over the top of the computer to clean up some of the mess. My eyes were wide when I looked back at my dad. “What? He… he does not.”

  My dad smiled down at me. A real smile. Not the half-assed thing he normally gave me. “He does. Whether you want to see it or not.”

  My stomach knotted at those words. I’d known Court six months. He couldn’t… he didn’t… he’d never even indicated. How could my dad even know that?

  “It doesn’t matter,” he continued. “What matters is that you can’t give up your life. It’s a good one.”

  He almost sounded… proud.

  “I thought you hated it,” I gasped out. “I thought you despised me working in Hollywood as a publicist. That you thought it was trash work.”

  “I didn’t despise it. I don’t understand it, but I realize its importance. That you’re good at it. The only thing I hated was that… you never needed me. But I did that to myself. When you needed me when you were little, I wasn’t there. I shouldn’t be surprised to find you grew up independent and that you didn’t need anyone.” He gently touched my shoulder. “You got out of here. You made something of yourself. I’m proud of you, Bug.”

  I swallowed back tears. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Now, get out of my house.”

  I laughed and swiped at my eyes. “I’m not ready to leave just yet, if that’s okay. But maybe I’ll call up a friend and get out of your hair for a while?”

  He patted my shoulder twice and stood. “That’s fine with me. As long as you know that this isn’t permanent. I like having you home. Just not as a hidey-hole. You can come and visit more if you want.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He smiled at me and finished his beer. “All right. I should get back to bed. Ashley is going to wonder where I went.”

  “Night, Dad.”

  “Night, Bug.”

  I watched him walk away, wondering why it had taken so long for us to have that conversation. Stubbornness sure ran in the family.

  Before I could let myself dwell on what he’d said about Court, I picked up the phone and called Winnie. I needed to get out of here.

  36

  English

  “When I said that I wanted to meet up, I was thinking coffee,” I told Winnie two days later as I stood at the entrance to The Beverly Hills Hotel on Sunset Boulevard.

  “Welcome back to Hollywood,” Winnie said.

  She slid her arm through mine and walked me up the front steps. I’d been inside the iconic hotel more times than I could count. It was a favorite of my clients. Plus… it was the place that Josh and I had met. Which used to give me a thrill every time that I stepped inside the classic pink building, but today, my stomach just turned as the happy memory was now twinged with sadness.

  “What is this event even for?”

  I’d had to head into the city and get a new dress since I’d brought nothing remotely high fashion back with me from New York. I was in love with the red bustier dress I’d purchased. It gave me ample cleavage while hugging my frame and accentuating my assets. I’d paired it with a new set of Jimmy Choos.

  “Who knows? Who cares? Gregory is meeting us inside.”

  I groaned.
“I thought you were off-again with Gregory?”

  “Yes, but you’ve been gone forever, English,” Winnie said, waving her hand. Her British accent tight around my name. “We’re back on. Have been for a few months. The event rented out all the bungalows, and he’s secured one for us.”

  Gregory was a director, producer, composer, and all-around entitled dude-bro prick. He thought the world revolved around his pretentious ass. I was not pleased to hear that Winnie was back with him. She could do so much better. Even if… I was going to take advantage of his generous hospitality.

  “So, tell me about New York,” Winnie said as we stepped into the main ballroom already bedecked with celebrities. “Was it snowing?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Did you choose an agency to work with up there?” Winnie grabbed two flutes of champagne and passed me one.

  “Actually, no. Currently unemployed.”

  Winnie wrinkled her nose. “But why?”

  “Well, Kensington Corporation offered to take me on full-time. But I said no.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted though?”

  “At the time… I was sleeping with Court.”

  Winnie froze. Her large brown eyes rounded. She reached out and grasped my arm. “English! You?”

  I laughed at her expression. Winnie had always been the naughty one. She thought nothing of fucking her clients. She was able to keep her heart separate from her vagina.

  “Yes. Me, of all people.”

  “Well then, good for you!”

  “But… we’re not together right now.”

  Winnie sighed. “Broke your heart? Left you hanging?”

  “Something like that.” I shrugged, ending the conversation I didn’t want to be having. “I’ve actually been considering starting my own agency.”

  “Then, do it,” Winnie said like it was that easy.

  “I don’t even know if I’m going back to New York at this point.”

  “We’ll open it here in LA.”

  “We?” I asked, raising my brows.

  “What? You think I’m going to let you have all the fun?” She gripped my wrist and pulled me closer.

  “We have the non-compete still.”

  Winnie waved her hand, unconcerned. “Those things are never held up in court. And anyway, if Margery can do it to you, she can do it to me. And I don’t want to be under her fire. So, if you’re starting your own company, count me in.”

  I put my hand to my heart. I was touched. I couldn’t believe Winnie would go out on a leap of faith with me like that.

  “All right,” I said, nodding my head. “Let’s do it.”

  “What were you thinking of calling it? Maybe Class? Because we actually have it.”

  I laughed at her slight. “I’m thinking E&B.”

  Winnie grinned. “English & Bardwaj PR. I approve.”

  A few minutes later, we ran into Gregory. He was tall and skinny and pale, built like a reed. He wore a ten-thousand-dollar suit and a smile like a fox. His dark hair was thinning and receding. His fingers twitched as if desperate for a keyboard. He was a bit of a genius. But in the way that he had been told too many times and truly believed it. He had this nasty habit of insulting everyone in his presence and always tried to make you think it just might be a compliment.

  I had no idea why Winnie put up with him.

  “Anna English,” Gregory said in surprise. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a disgraced woman in public with her husband.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  He pointed his long, bony finger over my shoulder. I whirled around to find Josh standing at a window with a blonde actress that I recognized but couldn’t remember her name. My stomach flipped. Of course he was here. He’d had to show up at the one place I was. And, that place had to be where we’d first met.

  I hadn’t seen him since I throat-punched him in my apartment in New York. I hadn’t wanted to see him in LA. I definitely didn’t want to see him flirting with someone else. Regardless of our current divorce situation.

  “Thanks for that, Gregory,” I ground out.

  “Of course, English. Whatever they’re feeding you in New York looks great on your hips.”

  I bit back a reply about his receding hairline, and instead, I shot a pleading look at Winnie. Seriously, how could she stand him?

  “I’m going to get some fresh air,” I said with an eye roll.

  “I’ll come find you in a minute,” Winnie called.

  I waved her off and then slipped through the side door that led out to the veranda and the pool beyond that. I breathed in the autumn LA air, which smelled faintly of smog, dashed dreams, and year-round summer. It didn’t smell at all like New York when I’d left. It’d had this faint smell like winter was about to descend and blanket the world in its never-ending cold. Here, I could wear a strapless dress in the middle of November. There, layers were my friend. LA I’d missed so badly all the time. And now, was I missing New York?

  I turned around to head back inside and just deal with Gregory’s behavior. But standing in the entrance was Josh. He stared at me as if seeing a ghost.

  “English?” he whispered hesitantly.

  “Hi, Josh.”

  “What are you doing in LA?”

  “Well,” I said, leaning back against the railing, “my sister was shot in New York.”

  His eyes bulged, and he stepped fully out onto the veranda. “Taylor? Holy shit! Is she okay?”

  “Went through her thigh and one grazed her hip. Hit the femoral artery, and she had to have surgery to stop the blood. But… she’s lucky. She was discharged within a week, and we were able to bring her home. Her friend is still in the hospital. And apparently, the guy who did this… has killed most of his victims.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Josh said. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  I shook my head. “No, there’s really nothing anyone can do. It’s been… horrible.”

  He tentatively stepped forward, as if afraid I would throat-punch him again. He rested a hand on my arm. “I’m really, truly so sorry to hear that. Taylor is a good kid. She doesn’t deserve that. And I just… I hate that you’re going through it alone.”

  I nodded. I hated that I was going through it alone, too. It was so much to carry on my shoulders. And suddenly, tears hit me fresh. Josh and I had been together so long. I’d always been able to be myself with him. To tell him everything. Now, I couldn’t stop the tears.

  Without hesitating, he pulled me into his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, English.”

  I cried into his shoulder. My tears soaking through his rather expensive suit coat. Likely totally fucking my makeup. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t stop me. He just rubbed my back and held me.

  After a few minutes, I hiccuped and pulled back. I wiped under my eyes with my fingers. “God, I probably look like such a mess.”

  “No, you don’t,” he whispered softly. His eyes so wide and caring.

  I pulled a compact out of my purse and adjusted my makeup. My cheeks were red and puffy, and my eyes looked like, well, like I’d been crying. But it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it’d be.

  His hand was still on my shoulder, steadying me. “You know, I’ll always be here for you, English. If you need someone to talk to or just cry on, I can be there.”

  “Thank you.” I swallowed back the last wave of tears and sniffed once. “I appreciate it.”

  His hand was still on my shoulder. Rubbing slow circles into my skin. “Do you have a sense of déjà vu?”

  “A little,” I whispered.

  It did feel the same.

  We’d met on a night just like this one. Except that I’d been so out of my element and he’d been pure confidence. I’d never thought that I could fall for someone like him. And within hours, I’d handed over my entire heart, hook, line, and sinker.

  He stepped in closer. His arms came around my shoulders. “I want it to be like
it was. I wish we could go back to that night and start over.”

  I did, too. A small part of me really wanted that.

  A part of me even wanted this right here. For my husband to have been here for me through all of it.

  It would be so easy to just play the night over again. To get lost in conversation with him for hours on end. To let him call me after and woo me into a date. We’d go to a fancy restaurant. He’d insist on ordering, but I’d order for myself anyway because that was who I was. We’d dance in the lobby of the bar to no music, and he’d drive me home and kiss me at the door.

  We’d make up. Go to counseling. Forget what had happened. And live happily ever after.

  I could see the entire future in his eyes as he waited for my response. Waited for me to agree with him.

  But as much as that would be wonderful, it wasn’t even what I wanted anymore. He wasn’t what I wanted.

  So, I stepped back, away from his comforting arms. “But we can’t go back.”

  He sighed heavily. “Maybe we can.”

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head. “No, we can’t.”

  “Is it still about what happened in London? It would never happen again.”

  “I know,” I said. Because a part of me did know. Losing me had changed his mind. Made him realize his mistake. He wouldn’t do it again. Not to me. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not the same person I was before you cheated on me, Josh. I can’t go back to being that innocent and wide-eyed with wonder over you. I put my entire trust in you. I gave you my whole heart. And that girl just… doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “I understand,” he said sadly. “But I still love you.”

  I swallowed and nodded. He stepped forward then and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes as his scent enveloped me.

  “Good-bye, English.”

  Then, he walked away, and I let him.