The Other Side of Greed

by Lily Zante

Simona laughs. “That is a nice picture.” But my eyes are riveted on the man who has his back turned and is on the phone. It can’t be him. He told me he was away on business. We continue walking towards him, and though he is still some distance away, the similarity is there.

  Shock jolts my heart out of my chest. He’s dressed in a sharp suit. It looks expensive.

  It is him.

  Given what I know about him, I’m not shocked at what he’s wearing, I’m just shocked to see him at all.

  Simona hooks her other arm in mine. “Where did we lose you?”

  “Huh?” I force myself to glance at her as we get nearer.

  “You’re miles away,” she replies.

  “Is that Brad?” Fredrich asks, looking straight ahead at the man who is now walking into one of the buildings.

  “Brad? What? Where?” Simona sounds excited.

  “Holy shit!” Fredrich circles the car like a hungry wolf, his eyes twinkling with admiration. “A Tesla. Freakin’ awesome.”

  I try to school my breathing. I’m so crazy about him. So swept up in the heat and sweat of our lovemaking that I can’t think straight. I see him everywhere because he is imprinted on every inch of my skin, in every part of my mind.

  Shock slams into me like a fifty-ton truck. Nausea makes me falter and sway, as if I’ve had three cocktails too many. I stare at the Tesla, but I can’t be sure I saw him walk away from this. Brad drives an old Toyota Corolla but lives in the Water Tower Building. A Tesla is more like the type of car I’d expect him to drive. Why did he turn up on my doorstep driving a banged up old car, and why did he want to work at Redhill?

  He told me he was out of state on business. He told me he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to meet us for dinner at eight.

  These new lies are more than I can handle. I stop to take a breath.

  “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” Simona asks as I lean against a wall because my legs are so shaky I feel as if they’re going to buckle.

  “What’s up?” Fredrich is still ogling the Tesla and looks over at us.

  I force myself to pull it together. Determined not to ruin this evening for Simona, I push off the wall. “I’m feeling a bit queasy. It must be something I ate. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I hook my arm in Simona’s and walk on with determination. Fredrich rushes to catch up with us.

  “This is it,” I say, stopping outside the art gallery.

  Dark windows display a couple of abstract paintings and the gold engraved lettering says:

  * * *

  Jessica Montrose Art Gallery

  * * *

  “Jessica Montrose?” Simona wrinkles her nose as if she remembers. Fredrich enlightens her. “It’s that woman from Eli’s city hall event, the one who clung to Kyra like a barnacle to a boat.”

  “A barnacle to a boat?” says Simona, with a little giggle. Simona’s face lightens up. “I love artwork, and this is so thoughtful of you both.”

  I shrug. “She sent invitations. Champagne and canapes and art. We thought you might like it.”

  She touches my cheek, and gives it a little pull, as if I am one of her young grandkids. “I already love it.”

  “Good, because we’re going to indulge ourselves in here and then we’ll go to dinner,” I tell her.

  “You’re spoiling me,” she says, looking like an excited child as I open the door for her to go in.

  The moment we walk inside, we are greeted with glasses of champagne.

  “Got any beer?” Fredrich asks.

  Simona looks around in delight. “I’ve never been here.”

  “No?” I ask, looking around for the Brad lookalike. I want to see him so that I can convince myself that it’s someone else. So that I can set my heart to rest.

  “This is disgusting stuff.” Fredrich makes a face as he sips his beer.

  “Try the champagne,” Simona says. “It’s divine.”

  Fredrich sidles up to me. “How do we do this? Do we just look around?” But my gaze is pinned on a tall brunette woman. And then I see Brad. At least I think it’s Brad.

  It’s Brad looking…different. Brad with Jessica hanging onto his arm for dear life. Jessica, introducing him to people. Jessica staring up at him as if he’s been in bed with her all weekend instead of me.

  My heart splinters on its downward spiral, and the cold, hard truth laughs back at me. This is the man I spent the weekend falling in love with.

  Fredrich splutters. “That is Brad,” he roars. “You said he couldn’t make it.” He looks at me accusingly.

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “He must have a twin,” Fredrich counters. “For all we know, he could have, because we don’t know anything about the guy.” For a nano-second, I entertain the idea. Until recently, I knew nothing about Brad. He was a mystery to me, but ever since our weekend, ever since he showed me his condo and opened his heart to me, I’ve seen the other side to him.

  The man I told never to cheat on me because my heart had already been broken by it.

  I suddenly waver. The floor beneath me seems to tilt and my heart hits the ground, a few seconds after my insides empty.

  Him and Jessica Montrose. As if a montage flows before my eyes, I recall city hall and that woman sticking by my side wanting to know things.

  And yet, it doesn’t make sense.

  None of it.

  We stare across the floor at him with Jessica who holds a group of men, Brad included, captivated.

  There is no denying those eyes, that jaw, those lips.

  It’s him.

  As if he can sense us staring and talking about him, he looks up, and his smooth unlined face suddenly drains of color. There can’t be more than a few yards between us. I see his features clearly, while my heart hammers and my breath catches in my dry-as-sand throat.

  Brad’s gaze locks and battles with mine.

  “What’s he doing with her?” Simona asks, sounding as shocked as I feel broken.

  I can’t pretend I haven’t seen him.

  I need to hear it from his mouth.

  I need to know.

  There’s only an arm’s length of distance between us. I stare at him in disbelief. In the picosecond of time which flashes and disappears, I realize that so much of my time with this man has been made up of so many moments of disbelief.

  “What are you doing?” Simona cries as I walk towards them. Brad stares at me, pain and confusion are etched in his somber eyes.

  Jessica holds onto Brad possessively. “Kyra, how lovely of you to come.” Her face lights up as if I’ve given her a check for twenty million dollars. The smile is plastic. “Brandon, you’ve met Kyra before, haven’t you?”

  Brandon?

  He can’t speak and this gives me a sliver of comfort. Time halts and freezes like a bitter chill, icing the blood in my veins. I sense Simona and Fredrich at my side as the other men in the group discreetly disappear.

  “Dude, fancy meeting you here,” Fredrich says, breaking the icy mood. “I didn’t think this was your kinda place. It’s not mine either...”

  Brad doesn’t speak. No one does. Silence slam dunks into my net of despair. The moment is a dystopian nightmare flashing through my head like a torch over a grave of dead bodies.

  He prepared me for this, so I shouldn’t be surprised as my glance sweeps over his watch, a great big, vulgar gold thing, and cufflinks that glisten under the spotlights.

  “This is a surprise. Kyra wasn’t sure that you would be able to make it.” Simona’s voice is the only soft thing in this barbed-wire nightmare.

  “I didn’t know you all had plans to come here,” he says, while acid boils in the vat that is my stomach.

  “I bet you didn’t,” I bite back.

  Jessica pipes up. She’s obviously enjoying the show. “I sent them tickets. It was the least I could do after meeting you at Elias’s party.”

  Brad tilts his head up and tries to dislodge his arm out of her Ironman grip. His eyes never leave mine.
“I didn’t want to raise your hopes. I was hoping to surprise you all at the restaurant later,” he says, ignoring Jessica.

  “You’ve certainly done that,” Simona remarks. She has the same concerns as me—that Jessica and he are an item—although she doesn’t know about me and Brad yet.

  The lying, cheating snake.

  He cheated on me.

  Or maybe he cheated on her.

  How could he do that to me, and after everything I’ve told him?

  “Is that your car out there, dude?” Fredrich seems immune to the fragility hanging in the air.

  “Yes.” We’re in a staring contest of sorts, and I refuse to look away. “How could you …” The words fall from my lips before I can stop myself.

  Jessica laughs.

  What the hell is she laughing about?

  Simona’s hand on my arm reminds me to stay calm and steady, and from the periphery of my vision, I can see Fredrich staring at me.

  “I can explain, Kyra,” Brad says.

  “This will be good.” Jessica has a nasally voice which now grates on my already frayed nerves like a knife on a blackboard.

  None of this makes sense. None of it.

  “Did she just call you Brandon?” Fredrich says. He looks at me as if he’s thinking the same thing: that we know nothing about this man who seems to lead a double life.

  “Is that your name, Brad?” Simona asks.

  I glare at Jessica. “Is that why you clung to me like a leech over at city hall?”

  “I was curious to see what you were like,” she replies.

  “Why?” Before she can reply, Brad positions himself in front of her, so that he’s in my face, blocking out everything else. I step back, before the familiar mint and pine scent of him lowers my defenses.

  “I can explain,” he starts to say, but I take a step back, otherwise my fist might be tempted to punch him in the stomach. A slow wave of dullness floods my senses, deadening those sharp and pointy emotions that sliced through me when I first saw him with that woman. It takes me back to the moment when I came home early, because I’d forgotten my phone, and I found my then boyfriend with a woman wrapped around him.

  Now, like then, a man has upended my entire world. “Why is she calling you Brandon?” I ask. He never told me Brad was short for Brandon. It’s not such a big deal in the general scheme of things.

  “Because that’s my name.”

  “Brad, Brandon, what’s the difference?” Jessica says.

  “Brandon who?” A mist is clearing in the deep recesses of my brain, and I am beginning to see things a little more clearly now.

  “Brandon Hawks,” Jessica offers. “Didn’t you know?”

  “Stay out of it.” He throws her a stare that would have turned a lesser person to stone. Just watching him reacting to her makes me see another side to him. “I can explain,” he says to me. “But not here. Somewhere else, just you and me.”

  “Who’s Hartley?” I ask, as shockwave rolls over shockwave. The Tesla, the watch, him here, with Jessica, as if that isn’t enough for me to absorb, I am now even more curious about the name change.

  “How about a ride in the car, dude?” Fredrich asks, completely enamored by the Tesla and blinded to the thick veil of duplicity I find myself wrapped up in.

  “Another time,” Brad answers, his eyes still boring into mine. Jessica places a protective, territorial hand on his arm, and he flinches in irritation, shrugging her arm off, as easily as if he had swatted a fly. “Please, Kyra. Let’s go someplace and talk.” His voice is low, persuasive, almost seductive, and I’m back at the ancient baths again, or sitting in that expensive restaurant, letting him wine and dine me in naïve ignorance.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” I hiss under my breath. “You cheating, lying, disgusting piece of--”

  “I’m not cheating on you.”

  “You don’t need to do this here, Kyra.” Simona’s is the voice of reason.

  Fredrich’s silence informs me that he’s finally understood the gravity of the situation.

  That he’s finally understood something that Simona knew way before. About me and Brad. Or Brandon. Whoever he is.

  “He’s not cheating on you,” Jessica says, “he’s after your—”

  “I swear to you.” He turns to Jessica and one look is all it takes to shut her up.

  A photographer rushes past snapping pictures, and I become aware that we are the centerpiece in the middle of the room, and people are watching.

  “Let’s go.” Simona takes my arm and gently leads me away. People part as we make our way. My mind is a riot of disarray.

  Outside, I can finally breathe. I’m not the same woman who walked in here what seemed like hours ago.

  “That was interesting,” remarks Simona.

  Fredrich looks at me.

  I lean against the wall, needing something to hold me up. “He lied to me. He told me he couldn’t come to dinner. And here he is with her.” Another man cheating on me. For what? Why would he want me when he can have someone like her? That’s the thing that doesn’t make sense to me.

  “Brandon Hawks,” says Fredrich, reading from his cell phone, “thirty-two-year-old son of billionaire Philip Hawks, the man who founded Hawks Enterprises back in the ‘80s.”

  “Billionaire?” Simona’s eyebrows shoot north.

  “He lied about everything.” Fredrich kicks the wall. He waggles a finger at me. “You were right about him.”

  “I can see you’re upset,” Simona says, putting her arm on mine. Understanding shines in her eyes. “But I don’t think he’s with her.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “Shall we … shall we walk around for a while? Or I could call the restaurant and try to bring the reservation forward,” I suggest, even though I have lost my appetite.

  Simona shakes her head. “We’ll do nothing of the sort. This has put a dampener on the evening.”

  “Not for me,” I say, not wanting to ruin her evening even though I want to go home and cry my heart out.

  “I’m not hungry,” Fredrich announces.

  “Can we rebook for another day? Please?” Simona begs, more for me than for herself.

  I’m relieved that she has made the suggestion.

  * * *

  BRANDON

  * * *

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I hiss at Jessica. I should have known better. Should have known there was a reason for her wanting me here tonight.

  The snide, sly vixen wanted to get her revenge on me.

  “Why didn’t you tell her?” Jessica squawks as Kyra walks away from me. The hurt in her eyes cut deep into me. The entire time I couldn’t look away, I needed to tell her, but there are things I need to explain first. “Why not, Brandon?” This vulture I once trusted has stabbed me in the back with a scythe.

  “You’re not the one who decides when,” I snarl. I was going to tell Kyra in my own time, not here, not now. But I hadn’t bargained on just how evil Jessica is. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I glance around and people immediately look away, avoiding eye contact.

  Now that Kyra has left, the show is over. People return to their conversations. The photographer snaps another photo. “Tell him to get the fuck away, before I take that camera and shove it up his ass.”

  “No photos.” Jessica cackles, no doubt she finds this entire episode highly amusing.

  I’ve crushed Kyra. I took everything we had and put a fire to it. I have to find a way to win her back. Jessica remains glued to my side and I force myself to stay calm. “You are a nasty piece of work. I must have lost my mind to ever be interested in you.”

  My words, and my tone, have hit home. Her brows contort. The realization dawns. “Are you …” Her bright red lips turn into the perfect ‘O’. “Are you sleeping with her?”

  My jaw tightens. I hate the way this evening turned out. I made it a point to finish up my meetings as soon as I could. I flew back early, determined to do my final part for Jessica
, to cut my ties with her clean. Then I had plans to meet Kyra at the restaurant for dinner. It was supposed to be a surprise.

  Jessica saw to it that it was something else.

  I’ve messed things up with Kyra, and now I have to put them right. I walk out without saying another word, but I fear the damage has been done. I didn’t cheat on her. I didn’t do what her ex did. What I did was a million times worse.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  KYRA

  * * *

  At home I curl up on the couch in tears. Silent tears fall; the tears of someone who has no fight left in her, no fight for a heart that cannot be fixed because it is so irreparably broken.

  I hear another ping on my phone, and see that it’s another text from him. I turn my phone off.

  The evening has been surreal. I no longer know what is real and what are lies.

  I don’t know where Brad ends and Brandon starts.

  He cheated is all I know.

  I feel bad that the evening is all messed up and what should have been a great night out for Simona has been turned into the worst night of my life.

  We’ll have to have a do-over for her birthday at another time because I refuse to let this man’s trickery affect us.

  As I lie, like a fetus, cocooned in my misery, I try to work out why Brad would lie about his name, and it makes me think about the many other lies he’s fed to me, to us, to Redhill, ever since he joined.

  Why did he join? Why did the son of a billionaire join my company? To achieve what?

  And then I sit up.

  Could it have been anything to do with Greenways? After all, he was the one who suggested we relocate.

  Until recently. But now he seems to want me to stay. He’s been telling me to trust my instinct and to not listen to him.

  I lie back down, because my mind can’t work around the implausibility of this idea.

  I prefer to believe that Brad was the dreamer and idealist who went abroad and helped with the building projects of impoverished communities.

  I wish I could erase all thoughts about our weekend. I wish I could rub away the scent and feel of him. I wish it weren’t so recent. I wish time would pass fast, fast, fast, and I could fast forward a whole year.