Determination

by S. E. Rose

  I bid on a boat but lose to another businessman. As the auction continues, I begin to look around. There are probably two hundred people here, but my eyes quickly find the last person I’m expecting to see, Vanessa. She’s sitting next to Nat Richards and my heart sinks. Just as I’m about to look away, her eyes meet mine. I can’t read her expression. She seems to read mine though and quickly looks down at her hands. Is she embarrassed to be caught with him? Is she mortified that I’m here? Maybe she doesn’t care at all.

  After the auction, I allow Meredith to talk me into one dance. Thankfully, an old friend of Meredith’s finds her and asks to cut in, and I oblige all too quickly. I wander out to the gardens and sit on a bench, overlooking the now moonlit grapevines. There are a few people milling around, but the quiet corner I have found shields me from them all.

  I sense someone coming up toward my left and turn to see Vanessa. I look back out at the vines.

  “Sorry…I didn’t mean to intrude,” she says. “I just wanted to say hi.”

  “Well, you’ve said hello,” I answer her.

  “Look…I…” She searches for words.

  I turn to her and stand. Towering over her even in her heels makes me feel more powerful and right now I want to feel powerful. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “Yes, I do,” she says. “But, I guess it doesn’t really matter. I saw you dancing with your date. She’s very beautiful.”

  I snort. “Meredith? She’s…well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me,” she whispers, looking up at me with her big blue eyes. I can feel my resolve melting away. “It’s not what you think. I don’t know what you’ve read, but we aren’t together.”

  I give her a stern look. “Vanessa, I’m not an idiot.”

  “No, you don’t understand. His publicist, my former publicist, made up a story and then sent us here together knowing the paps would get evidence photos. She’s trying to boost his image. So, I fired her this morning.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to get ahold of you to explain, but you’re not easy to track down, even for me.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Even for you?”

  “Well, you know, someone like me who has connections?” she asks rather than states.

  I can no longer help myself. I tip her chin up, so I can study her face. “So, you aren’t with anyone?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Well, neither am I.”

  “You’re not?” she asks, her voice way too high.

  “Nope,” I say, letting the “p” sound pop.

  “I…I thought maybe this was over,” she says, looking down so I can see her thick eyelashes. Her bottom lip trembles slightly, and I can’t hold back any longer. I lean down and crush my lips to hers. She gasps in surprise, and I take advantage of that and plunge my tongue into her mouth. She moans against my lips and allows her tongue to dance with mine. I fold her into my arms and press her against my chest. She’s warm and her skin, oh, how I missed her skin.

  The vibrations from my cell phone lodged in my pocket break the spell.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling away and looking down at the screen. Rick’s name appears. Rick never calls, he only texts or emails. Shit, this must be serious.

  “Rick?” I ask as I answer the phone.

  “Oh, thank God you answered,” he says. I can tell something is up as his voice gives it away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s been a break-in at your apartment. The alarm went off and the concierge called me. The police are there now. It doesn’t look like anything was taken, but I can’t be sure. Can you get home tonight?”

  “Shit. Yes, I left the plane on standby. Let me see if I can find Meredith. Don’t let Evelyn in there, OK? Did the police make sure no one is there?”

  “Yes, they did. And, Jesse? I’m hiring a security firm pronto,” he adds.

  “Fine,” I mumble. “We’ll discuss it when I arrive. I’m leaving now.”

  I hang up and look down at Vanessa. Her eyes are wide. “Is everything OK?”

  “I’m afraid I have to leave. My apartment was broken into, and I want to get back and make sure everything is OK.”

  “Oh, of course. I hope it is,” she says as she looks down again. I lift her chin up again and look into her eyes.

  “This isn’t over,” I say resolutely, and I kiss her hard one last time before I walk back inside to find Meredith. Fortunately, I find her with her friend, still dancing. I cut in and explain my predicament.

  “Oh, well, Todd and I are having such a good time. Perhaps, I’ll stay and fly back tomorrow. He has his jet here, too.”

  “OK, that’s fine. Thanks again for tagging along with me,” I add and kiss her cheek.

  She nods and looks behind me. “It’s always good to see old friends,” she adds as she walks back over to Todd.

  I turn and see Vanessa. She doesn’t say anything, but instead gives me a hug and peck on the cheek and then hands me a small piece of paper. She gives me a tiny smile and walks away.

  I get out to my waiting car and look down at the paper. It contains a phone number. I smile.

  I get back early the next morning. My apartment is fine. Everything is accounted for and no one was injured. They have some surveillance video of two men in the building. I don’t recognize either one.

  By the afternoon, Rick has me meeting with a security firm. Gallagher Security is a firm owned by Bryce Gallagher. He’s a former Army Ranger who has trained in Israel and Southeast Asia. He had a brief stint as an MMA boxer and some sources say he’s been involved in espionage. Jack apparently recommended him to me. Bryce is a huge man. He towers over my 6’2” frame and looks like he could bench-press me for fun.

  We go through security protocols and his thoughts on how to beef up my alarm system, computer server, everything. It’s overwhelming, and I try to absorb everything he has to say. He’s impressive, but I’m not ready to commit quite yet. I take his information and tell him I’ll be in touch.

  Rick gives me a hard look as Bryce leaves. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hire him now.”

  I give Rick a sharp “know you’re place” look. “He’s the best, then?”

  “Yes, I interviewed three other firms. I ran them all through Jack and this is the best, hands down, not even a close second behind him.”

  “Very well,” I sigh. “I’ll look over the contract after I get a few hours of sleep and let him know this week.”

  Rick looks resigned as he leaves. I close the door and there’s an immediate knock. I look through the peephole and see Evelyn. Great, I think, just what I need.

  I open the door.

  “Oh, thank God! I was so worried,” she says as she takes me in her arms and gives me a good once-over before hugging me tightly.

  “I’m fine, Evelyn, really,” I say.

  “Well, it was lucky you weren’t home. I do hope you’ll hire a security firm now,” she says adamantly as she walks into the house.

  I roll my eyes and shut the door behind her. “Yes, I just met with a security firm.”

  “And?” she asks.

  “And, I’m thinking about it.”

  She huffs and walks on into the kitchen. “Boy, you need to sort out your priorities.”

  I want to laugh at her brazen words, but I withhold it. I walk into my study and shut the door. I look around again, checking and triple-checking that everything is in order. I just don’t understand, why would anyone want to break in to my apartment? Was it a competitor? Could it have anything to do with the attempted server hacking? That would make the most sense. I stare at my computer screen. I mean, really stare at it, until it becomes nothing but a fuzzy blob in front of me. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see something.

  I’m a little anal retentive when it comes to the icons on my computer. They are ordered in a specific way and are aligned in a specific way and that makes me happy. Yes, I have OCD. One of my icons is just slightly
off from where it should be. At a quick glance, it seems normal, but really looking at it, I can see it isn’t aligned properly.

  It’s for a software that I helped to create on a government contract project. It decodes encrypted information that seems otherwise impossible to decode. I haven’t used it much myself, other than helping my niece and her husband with an issue a while back. I click around but don’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  I decide to see if this Bryce guy can pull his weight. I pick up the phone and call him.

  “Mr. Ryder,” he answers on the first ring.

  “Bryce, I have something that I want you to look into,” I say.

  “So, you would like to move forward with our contract?” he asks.

  “Let’s call it a test drive. I have one specific issue I want you to investigate right now. I know that is a bit beyond the scope of the private security detail we discussed this afternoon, but I’m willing to pay a good price for your services.”

  “Intriguing, continue,” he says.

  “One of the icons on my computer is not where I left it,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” he inquires.

  “I am, well, a bit OCD about the icons on my computer screen. I have them arranged very carefully. I didn’t notice anything off earlier, but then sitting here just now, I noticed that one of my icons is moved over just slightly. I would never have had it misaligned. In fact, I haven’t even opened that particular program in months,” I explain.

  “I see,” Bryce says, not giving anything away.

  “What do you make of that?” I ask him.

  “I’d like to see your computer,” he says.

  “OK, when are you available?”

  “I happen to be down the street from your apartment having dinner. I can stop by in thirty minutes,” he answers.

  “That works, see you then,” I say and hang up.

  I decide not to touch my computer anymore. I pull up my tablet and creep on Vanessa’s social media. I need to go see her again, perhaps this week, maybe.

  Bryce shows up promptly thirty minutes later. I lead him into my study and show him the misplaced icon. He pulls up the activity log for my computer, but it shows nothing out of the ordinary, just as I had seen. Then he goes to the backup drive looking for activity there, nothing.

  “I already checked all that,” I assure him as I stand behind him, leaning against the wall.

  “Just being thorough,” he explains. Then he does some backdoor work on my hard drive, after five minutes of searching he pauses.

  “Well, they missed something,” he says.

  I lean in, and he taps his finger against my screen. Buried in the code for my software, is a listing for a search mechanism. It only creates an entry if a bypass was used prior to the search and if the log-in attempt didn’t have a thumbprint verification on it. Well, hot damn, I created this shit, and I didn’t even think to look there. I am seriously reconsidering my choice of career, when it dawns on me that Bryce has located this in five minutes and I, the creator, didn’t bother checking it nor would I have checked it.

  “How’d you…” I trail off as I look at the data on the screen. The times listed match the time of the break-in.

  “Let’s just say, I know my way around computers and software, especially any software used by the U.S. government,” Bryce responds dryly.

  “Ah,” I answer as it dawns on me that Bryce may have used this software in his official capacity for the government. But nonetheless, it is extremely impressive he found what he found in under five minutes. It might have taken me a week before checking that file would have dawned on me.

  “You’re hired,” I say haphazardly as I continue staring at the screen.

  “Very good, I’ll have a contract sent over in the morning,” he says.

  “Excellent, I’ll see you out then,” I say as Bryce stands and starts toward the door.

  When we reach the elevator, he turns and offers me his hand. I shake it. His grip is a death grip, and I know he means business.

  “Keep your doors locked, Mr. Ryder. Keep your alarm system activated. Once you sign my contract, I will appoint you security staff. I will appoint one of my men as chief of security for your team. You will not go anywhere without a security guard. Are we clear?” he asks, but really it sounds more like a demand, and I want to tell him to “piss off,” but I bite my tongue. He clearly senses this because he relaxes his shoulders before speaking again. “I have never lost a client because of a security lapse, and I’m damned sure not going to start with you.”

  “Understood,” I reply, and I close the door to my penthouse.

  “So?” Evelyn’s singsong voice echoes in the foyer as she walks in and looks at me.

  “So?” I ask her.

  “Well, do we have security or not?”

  I shake my head and walk back to my study. “Yes,” I reply curtly as I shut the door behind me. I swear that woman nags me more than my own mother.

  I pull up my schedule for the week and am looking for a prime opportunity to go visit Vanessa when a realization dawns on me, and I turn to my computer. I look at the screen again which still has the data pulled up that Bryce was looking at earlier. The search had been for a date. I stare at the date. Why that day? I flip to my calendar on my phone. Nothing special was planned for that date. I know I’m missing something. I decide to head to bed early after eating a quiet dinner. Perhaps, sleep will stir my memories, and I can figure out why they searched for a date back in the late summer of last year.

  Chapter 9

  Jesse’s Playlist: “I’ll Make It Up To You” by Imagine Dragons

  The week flies by before I know it, and I end up swamped with meetings. Saturday morning after my workout as I’m bathing in ice water thanks to my overzealous personal trainer, I check my schedule and see that I have a Friday clear next week. I text Rick.

  Jesse: Prep the jet. Going to LA on Thursday after my lunch meeting. Clear schedule Monday and Tuesday.

  Rick: Can you fit in a meeting with Vino Vacations?

  Jesse: Sure, make it for Tuesday morning.

  Rick: Will do.

  Jesse: Did you RSVP for my mom’s birthday party?

  Rick: Really?

  Jesse: Right, I see it’s on my calendar for two weeks out.

  Rick: You’re not bringing anyone right?

  Jesse: Nope.

  Rick: All set for that then. Do you want to go straight from LA to D.C.? I can move your Wednesday appts and then fly you straight down there Thursday. You can conference call into Thursday and Friday meetings.

  Jesse: Yes, that works.

  Rick: Done and done.

  Jesse: Way to work on that bonus.

  Rick: (“make it rain” GIF)

  I sigh and get back to the ice bath. I decide to spend the day leisurely checking emails and relaxing. Since last Monday, I now have security guards assigned to me. I’m trying to get used to this. My personal bodyguards are three men sharing a shift duty assignment, Dexter Cartwright, Pierce Turner, and Silas Blake. I gave them a room in the staff wing of the apartment, next to the room that Evelyn sleeps in when she isn’t staying at her daughter’s house.

  One of them now rides up front with Gianni when we go somewhere. They had wanted me to temporarily reassign Gianni, but I trust him with my life and made that clear to Bryce. Bryce hired two backup security guards to drive behind Gianni and then two additional staff for travel-related security. I find all of this to be a bit ridiculous, but I’ve decided to give it a “wait and see” trial period.

  I scroll down to Vanessa’s number which I shamelessly added to my contacts about five seconds after she handed me the small piece of paper with it. Although, I’ve used all my will power not to call her for the past few days. I hit call and wait.

  “Hello?” her voice sounds perplexed, and I realize she probably doesn’t have my number.

  “Vanessa?” I ask.

  “Who’s speaking?” she asks.

&n
bsp; “It’s Jesse.”

  She’s silent for a moment, and I can almost hear the smile through the phone.

  “Hi,” she says shyly.

  “How are you?”

  “Fine.” She pauses. “I wasn’t sure if you’d call or not.”

  “Of course, I would call,” I reassure her. “I would have called sooner, but it’s been a crazy week.”

  “I’m sure. Is everything alright with your apartment?”

  “Yes, yes. It’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  We both pause for an awkward moment.

  “So, I have a meeting out in LA next week, and I was going to fly out a few days early. I haven’t been surfing in a while and thought I’d catch some waves and meet up with some old friends,” I say nonchalantly. Oh, and possibly meet up with you?

  “Oh?” she says. She sounds hopeful, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Are you around this weekend?” I ask her.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll be here.”

  “Excellent. Do you have dinner plans for Friday?”

  “Uh, hold on, I don’t think so. Hmmmm…nope. I’m free,” she says all too quickly. I know she just pretended to check her schedule, and it makes me smirk.

  “Very good then. Text me your address and—”

  “Wait, let me tell you it now,” she cuts me off, and I wonder why.

  “OK,” I answer. She rattles off an address in Malibu, and I jot it down.

  “Everything alright, Vanessa?” I ask her.

  “Yeah. Yes. I…my stalker…my security is being pretty tight with letting me give out my whereabouts.”

  “I see. Well, looks like we’re just two people under house arrest then, huh?”

  She nervously laughs. “I guess so. I’ll have my security call your security, and we can all do lunch…or dinner, I suppose.”

  I laugh. “Sounds like a plan, mon étoile.”

  “Jesse?” she asks, her voice soft and raspy.

  “Yes?”

  “I miss you,” she says quietly.

  “Back at you, mon étoile. I’ll see you in a few days.”