“I was probably having a nightmare about him,” I presumed, running my hand through my hair.
“Really?” She squinted. “Because it didn’t sound like that. In fact, it sounded like a very good dream, if you know what I mean.”
“Nonsense,” I rejected that notion, tearing my gaze away from her.
“Mmm, yeah. Lower, David. That’s it, baby. Right there.” Monica shut her eyes and assumed a much higher voice, impersonating me. “Does any of that ring a bell?”
“Actually, no,” I grumbled, tossing a nasty glare up at her. “And I’d appreciate it if you never did that again.”
“Honestly, that’s the best entertainment I’ve had in months,” she chuckled, strolling away from the bed. “I laughed my ass off last night. Speaking of David, he checked out last night. Why would he do that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” I rebutted, scooting over to the side of the bed. “The last time I saw him, he was at the bar.”
“Don’t you find it strange he just…” Monica paused. “Disappeared like that? I mean, he was Jake’s best man, and he didn’t even leave him a note.”
“Monica, please let them know I’ll be joining you soon,” I told her, unwilling to satisfy her curiosity. “I need to take a shower.”
And hopefully drown.
I didn’t have the heart to voice my thought. Last night might have been a blur, I couldn’t remember much, but I could still recall how I had been feeling. Consumed by jealousy, I had resorted to alcohol.
My best friend had just married a dreamy man, and all I could think of was that I didn’t have anyone in my life.
Much to my disappointment, the only man who seemed interested in me was David. To make matters worse, that interest was just carnal. He was after something casual, not a lasting relationship. That didn’t matter, though. I needed someone mature, not a child in a grown man’s body.
Jake and David might have been close, but they were nothing like one another. Although famous, the songwriter was down-to-earth, simple and soft-spoken. The business executive, on the other hand, was cocky, loud and offensive.
This simple fact was precisely what hurt the most. The man vying for my attention was the exact opposite of what Michelle had found.
Was this how my life was going to be from here on out? Was this the type of man I attracted, or was it just a coincidence?
I had no idea.
The truth was that I was going back to New York City, without looking forward to anything else other than my job. And with Michelle being away for the rest of July, I had a feeling that I would be swamped…
Chapter 5
David
Back in the States, I was full of anticipation. For the first time since I had known her, I had done something far nobler for Stacy than just buy her flowers. I couldn’t wait to go to her office and speak to her.
Nevertheless, I had to be patient. Going there too fast would either mean that I’d missed her, or it would look like I wanted something. It was a lose/lose for me. In a few days, however, I would be back in there, and this was perhaps one of the most nerve-wracking things I had done in my whole life.
I hated rejection, and this woman had shot me down more times that I could count. It didn’t matter to her if I went there empty-handed, with a lush bouquet of roses, or if I pulled up outside her building in one of my supercars. The answer was almost always identical.
I’m busy. See yourself out.
I didn’t know why I had kept coming back.
Maybe it was her dark-red hair, that rare color that made her stand out.
Maybe it was her impressive, 5’11” stature or even her freckles. I might have been making fun of those, but I just loved them.
Whatever it was, I wasn’t prepared to give up on her.
Stacy had been avoiding me, but her behavior had not killed off my hope. If she didn’t want me to ask her out anymore, all she’d have to do was say—“Get out of here and don’t come back.” I wouldn’t force the issue, and I’d move on. For some reason though, she hadn’t.
Every time I drove over to her office building, I felt like I was just about to climb Mount Everest. That’s what Stacy symbolized. The unknown. The untamed. Okay, unless she was going to stab me to death, visiting her wasn’t as dangerous, but it had my hands sweating and my heart racing.
That Friday morning was no exception.
Dressed up in a crème suit and a red tie, I pushed the buzzer marked ‘Miles & Briar’, in the hope that this time, she would not tell me to go away.
“Hello?”
“It’s David, Red.”
“You’ve caught me at a really bad time, David. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“I only need five minutes of your precious time, Stacy.”
“Fine. Come on up,” she said with reluctance.
“Not good,” I muttered to myself as she buzzed me in.
Why wouldn’t she give me a chance? Was her job more important than accepting the guy who had been a gentleman to her back in Barbados?
In any case, her hesitation wasn’t a good sign. I thought she would be happy to see me, but her reaction resembled the Stacy prior to the wedding.
Her feminine voice was echoing down the hallway as I left the empty elevator behind me. That was strange, to say the least. I had been coming to her office for a while, and I had yet to hear her speak so loud, except when she wanted to yell at me.
Padding down the corridor, I glanced through her window. She was between two stacks of folders, staring at the far wall, with her cell phone pressed to her ear.
“Mrs. Murdock, I think you are being unreasonable,” she said to the woman on the other end of the line. “Your prenuptial agreement is very clear. You’re not entitled to anything in the case of infidelity. And you cheated on your husband, so you are in no position to make any demands.”
I stepped in and flashed her a smile, trying to get her attention. It was pointless. I even took a look at the wall, wondering what appealed to her so much, but my gaze was met with nothing more than white paint.
“It doesn’t matter if you were just twenty-three when you signed that prenup,” Stacy’s voice picked up in volume. “You were an adult. Huh!” She huffed, opening her mouth wide in shock. “Well, you should have thought of that prenup before you started an affair with your gardener!”
At that moment, she slammed the phone down onto the desk, her breath coming out heavier.
“Slutty client?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Client’s soon-to-be-ex slutty wife,” she corrected me, shaking her head in disapproval. “I just love my job in days like this.”
“Let me make it better,” I suggested, moving towards her desk. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee. There’s a great coffee house down the street. It’s…”
“Oh, David…” She sighed, looking away from me. “Haven’t we been over this? How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested?”
“Are you sure?” I posed the question, not convinced by her answer. “Because what you did in Barbados kind of gave me the impression you are.”
“What did I do in Barbados?” Stacy shrugged her shoulders, curiosity written all over her face.
“You really don’t remember?” Surprise sent my voice up an octave.
“Oh… no!” Her brows shot up in shock. “Did we…?”
“Well, that’s what you wanted,” I interjected, a cunning smile bursting upon my lips. “You came to my room, got all…” I paused. “Sexy, and then you tried to seduce me, but I didn’t give in.”
I hadn’t even finished my sentence when she burst into loud, hearty laughter.
In fact, it was so loud that the whole floor could have heard it. Clutching her stomach, her spine flexed as she shifted her gaze back up to mine.
“Thank you.” She chuckled. “You can’t imagine how much I needed that with the day I’ve had.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” I asked, my voice bass-deep.
Ah, Stacy…
Drowning in the same, awful qualities that made my stomach churn. Self-righteousness, stubbornness, and a strong dose of snobbishness.
If a guy had dared talk to me like that, I would have put his head through the wall.
But, she was the feisty, red-haired woman I’d been pursuing. The woman who had thrown everything back in my face, one more time.
My initial thought was to give her a taste of her own poison. Yet, I had done this before, and it hadn’t helped me at all.
“It’s not a joke. It’s something worse. A lot worse,” she assumed, drawing near me. “You made up the whole thing. You came up with this crazy story to persuade me to go out with you. Am I right?”
“I’d answer that if you were actually interested in what I had to say,” I told her, my tone weakening more and more by the second. “You’re not. You’ve never been.”
“Admit it!” She barked out, her brown eyes darkening with anger.
Once more, I kept my mouth shut. Stacy was the victim of her preconceived prejudice. Any words that came out of my mouth would not change her mind or affect her in any way. I maintained eye contact with her, until I noticed her extended arm, out of the corner of my eye. I thrust my arm up and grabbed her wrist in mid-air, waves of anger shooting down my spine. I wasn’t mad at her. In truth, I was mad at myself. I was an idiot to think that she would have the decency to acknowledge what I’d done for her.
“You know what?” I muttered under my breath. “I’m done. I’m done chasing you.”
“Where are you going?!” She groaned as I turned my back on her. “Answer me!”
Her words passed by me unheard.
I wasn’t going to stick around for any more of her insults. I’d had enough of her attitude. She might have been accusing me of being rude, but now, the roles had been reversed.
Why should I waste ever another second of my time talking to someone who wouldn’t listen to anyone other than herself? As far as I was concerned, Stacy Briar was free to date whoever she wanted. And I felt for the poor bastard who would have to put up with her…
Chapter 6
Stacy
I couldn’t believe the nerve of that man.
I knew that David was capable of going to great lengths to get what he wanted, but that was a new low for him. My guess was he thought something like—A little romance doesn’t seem to work, so, why not try a little fiction and fake my way to being a gentleman?
It might have worked, if I was indeed dealing with a real gentleman. Sadly however, I wasn’t. David Marshall was one of the most prominent playboys in New York. The whole city knew that.
And I was supposed to believe that he had changed his ways because of me?
The sounds of ringing phones brought me back to the present. I didn’t have time for this. I had to study three cases, and I had an appointment with Jonathan Murdock at one. I couldn’t wait to let him know about his wife’s phone call.
As I flipped over the cover of one of the folders, the sound that filled my ears had me looking out my door. Heels and a low—yet audible—hum. It was Kate Mason, an old friend from college.
“Hey, Kate,” I welcomed her with a polite smile. “How are you? It’s been a while.”
“Better than ever darling,” she claimed as we exchanged cheek kisses. “I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I should stop by and say hello! I’ve got news, and I also wanted to show you this.”
She raised her hand up to my face. The emerald on her sparkling ring was massive, a little gaudy for my taste, but it must have cost a fortune.
“Wow…” I breathed. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“His name’s Ryan Proctor. He’s the CEO of Consolidated Building,” she informed, her smug smile demonstrating her contentment. “Where’s Michelle?”
“Oh, she’s on holiday with her fiancé,” I lied, knowing that the truth would lead to a terrible misunderstanding. Michelle and I liked her, but she hadn’t invited her to the wedding.
“She got engaged, too?” Kate almost shrieked with excitement.
“Yep,” I affirmed with a nod. “Listen, I know I should have called you, but after we ran into you at the Family Court, things over here got pretty crazy. So, how did you meet Ryan?”
“Believe it or not, he rear-ended me at a traffic light,” she giggled, her voice high-pitched. “He apologized to me, he got really sweet and then, out of the blue, he asked me out. I guess that’s all she wrote.”
“Congratulations.” I smiled up at her. “When are you two getting married?”
“August 8th.”
That fast? I wondered, crossing my arms over my chest. The date added to my surprise. It was just four weeks away.
“We’re desperately in love with each other.” Kate’s smugness came right back. “Plus, August is a slow month at Ryan’s work. He’s a very busy man.”
“Sorry, where are my manners? Have a seat,” I urged, gesturing her towards the chair on my right.
“Oh, thanks, but I’ve got an appointment to get to nearby, hence popping in,” she maintained. “It’s been nice chatting, Stacy. Give me a call when Michelle comes back, so we can all catch up. Take care.”
“Bye.”
Good riddance.
I swallowed my words, watching her walk out of my office. She had known the address of our firm for months, and yet she only paid me a visit to gloat about her engagement to some rich moron. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Kate had been notorious for her taste in men. Even in college, she refused to date guys our age, and preferred men at least ten years older than her.
Still, Kate’s business was just that. Her business.
I would ‘forget’ to call her when Michelle’s got back from her honeymoon. I didn’t need the reminder that two of my friends had found their significant others and I hadn’t…
***
David
My conversation with Stacy had taken away my drive. I thought I had found someone I could have a relationship with. Stacy seemed like the type of woman I could rely on. But, even if that was the case with her, just how in the hell could I tolerate that attitude? I’d have to drug myself to avoid hearing her rants. I’d also have to check my brain at the door, every time she came up with one of her theories.
Why?
Because they didn’t make any sense. Once she had thought of something, it was impossible to make her see things from a different perspective.
I decided to head home to my apartment in Manhattan. The spaciousness and the views of the city always helped me clear my head.
Unlocking my door, I stumbled upon a small pile of letters. I bent down and picked them up. Rummaging through the envelopes, I noticed one with my handwritten address on it. It was from a Fran Feldman—the name seemed oddly familiar. I tore the edge of the envelope in eagerness, wondering who this lady was.
Dear David,
My name is Fran Feldman, and I’ve been your mother’s next-door neighbor for the past 16 years.
I regret to inform you that dear Anna passed away last night. I would have called you, but I don’t have your number, and your mother’s cell phone is so darn hard to operate. I was able to find your address on a parcel you had sent her.
When the police came, I let them know it all seemed suspicious, so they have placed her in the morgue. Please come see me and I can explain more when you get here.
Fran Feldman
The piece of paper slipped through my fingers. I stared into the void, struggling to grasp what I had just read. My mother, the most precious thing I had in this world was gone. I would never see that vibrant smile again. I would never get another chance to take her out or just sit with her quietly. Tears rose up i
n my eyes, as I considered the grim task ahead of me. I had to bid farewell to my blood, and I had to go through it alone…
Chapter 7
David
My mom’s neighborhood was comprised of old buildings and her house was particularly run-down. It had one bedroom, one bathroom, and was built sometime in the late sixties. The hinges on almost every door creaked, begging to be replaced. The wooden floor had faded to a yellowish shade, her bathroom tap had been leaking for months, and there was a nasty smell of mold in the living room. I had suggested buying her a new house over and over again, but her pride always got in the way. Although money wasn’t an issue, she had remained adamant.
“I’m not going to burden my own son with such an expensive purchase,” she used to say.
I pulled up outside the property, wondering what in the world this Mrs. Feldman had been suspecting. The grumble of the engine was still buzzing in my ears when I stepped onto the curb. An elderly lady in a black, polka-dot dress was tending to her rose bushes, her silver hair shining under the brilliant sunlight.
“Mr. Marshall?” She spoke in a broken voice, her face clenching in grief.
“Hi.” I murmured, striding through the open gate of her front yard.
“I’m so sorry,” Fran whispered, a tear toppling over the edge of her eye. “Your mother was a fine woman. It’s such a shame she died so young. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Some water would be fine, please,” I told her, struggling to maintain my composure. My mom’s neighbor seemed like a decent woman, but she was still a stranger. In truth, I wanted to grieve alone, not break down in tears in front of her.
The interior of her house didn’t differ much from Anna’s. Flaky walls, cracked planks on the floor and, strangely enough, the same stench of mold.
“Do all the houses in this area have the same smell of mold?” I asked as she poured cold water into a tall glass.
“Yes,” she gave a firm nod, handing the glass over to me. “Some of these houses were built just after the war. It’s one of the reasons why people couldn’t wait to sell them to that developer. What was their name again?” She looked up at her ceiling, tapping her index finger on her chin. “Oh, yeah. Consolidated Building. They bought everybody out, including me. I’m moving out in a couple of days. Your mother was the only one who refused to take their money.”
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