Asking For A Friend

by Parker, Ali

  It was a couple of degrees warmer here than at home, but not much. Two or three at most. The line waiting for cabs was long, but it went fast. People argued with those trying to jump the line and a fist fight nearly broke out between a couple of guys ahead of me.

  Through the din and the noise, I zoned out. I tried to picture what Brice looked like now, and how he would react to seeing me. We didn’t have a falling out or anything, we simply grew apart. But knowing what I did about him now, there would be no friendly reunion. That was for sure.

  Brice worked at a top class law firm in the financial district. One look at the high rise in front of me when I finally made it there, and I knew this was the kind of place that pulled in high end clients where the fights were about millions, if not billions, of dollars.

  I thought back to Marissa and Annie’s modest home, and how Marissa spent every last dollar she had on raising Annie and seeing to her well-being. They weren’t badly off, by any means, but I knew Marissa struggled at times to keep it all together.

  Meanwhile, Annie’s father worked in a building that reached up so high I had to tip my head back to see the top of it reaching into the sky. My blood heated all over again.

  Brice could afford to help Marissa out with his child. If he gave up even a tiny fraction of what he was making, Marissa probably wouldn’t have to worry ever again. She told me once that her real passion was fashion design, but that she could only afford to make one dress a month.

  It killed me to think that all along she could have been pursuing that passion without having to worry about providing for Annie. She could have still been working for me, or for my father, but she would have had a lot more cash to pump into her designing if she wanted to.

  A willowy brunette with a severe bun greeted me when I got to Brice’s floor. “Welcome to Collins, Lee and Mulder. How can I help you today?”

  She was the furthest thing from a welcoming face I could imagine, but I wasn’t easily intimidated. “I’m here to see Brice Peterson.”

  “Of course, sir,” she replied briskly. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No,” I said bluntly. My answer clearly didn’t sit well with the receptionist.

  She bristled and picked up the phone. “Mr. Peterson is a busy man. I’m not sure he’s going to be able to fit in a walk-in client, but let me get his assistant on the line. Who may I say is calling?”

  “An old friend,” I told her. “I’d like to surprise him.”

  In more ways than one, but she didn’t need to know that. I watched as she put in the call, spoke in low tones to Brice’s assistant and eventually pointed me in the direction of the waiting room.

  “He’ll be with you as soon as he can,” she promised insincerely. I nodded anyway and made my way to a collection of uncomfortable couches and coffee table loaded with magazines no one was interested in reading.

  I settled in on a brown leather wingback chair so slippery I had to plant my ankles on the floor to keep from sliding off. Pulling out my phone, I tried Marissa again. It didn’t surprise me when she didn’t answer.

  Heaving out a frustrated breath, I thumbed into my emails and returned a couple of urgent messages. The waiting room was relatively empty around me. There were only two other people in the waiting room. If I had to guess, I would put money on this being the kind of law firm where you made an appointment or were shown the door—even on a Saturday.

  The other two guys in the waiting room turned out to be a prospective employee about to interview for a spot in the mail room—because apparently they interviewed for that position—and a law clerk who had been denied entry to a settlement negotiation.

  They talked for a while before the person interviewing the guy for the mail room showed up and ushered him away. The clerk went quiet after that, waiting until a red faced man raced past without so much as looking back or waiting for his clerk.

  Alone after that, I kept waiting for Brice to make an appearance. I waited for what seemed like forever before I saw a familiar face stepping out of an office closer to the waiting room than I would have expected.

  Brice hadn’t changed much over the years. He was still built like the football player he used to be, but his blond hair was slicked back now instead of hanging over his forehead. His bone structure was angular and wide set, making him look like the shark he had to be to cut it in a place like this.

  Green eyes lighting up in surprise when he saw me in the waiting room, he strode over with his hand outstretched. “Layton Bridges, as I live and breathe. What the fuck are you doing here, man? It’s good to see you. It’s been way too long.”

  “Brice,” I gripped his hand in a firm shake. “It has been a long time.”

  During which time you turned into a lowlife. “Is there some place we could talk privately?”

  “Of course, dude.” He motioned me into one of the conference rooms nearby. The thing was way too big for two people and made me wonder what he was compensating for. “What have you been up to, Bridges? Last I heard you were still in Boston.”

  “Yeah, I have an architecture firm there,” I told him. “You seem to be doing well for yourself.”

  He smirked, waving his hand in the empty air of the elaborate conference room. “I’ve done well enough. It’s a dream come true working in this place, let me tell you. You in town for business? It would be great to work together. I have a team that can have whatever contracts you might need drafted by tomorrow.”

  Of course he did. Returning his smirk with one of my own, I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not here for business, actually. I’m here to speak to you. I wanted to talk to you about a friend of mine.”

  And because I had flown here especially to see him, I paused for effect. “Her name is Marissa Hughes. You remember her, Bricey?”

  At the sound of Marissa’s name, Brice’s face changed. If I had been less tactful, I would have rubbed my hands together. Things were about to get interesting. Let the games begin.

  Chapter 51

  Layton

  Brice Peterson’s jaw hardened and his shoulders tensed. Nothing in his fancy office with his multi-million dollar view over lower Manhattan could save him from his past. I was here to make sure he knew that.

  In his tailored three piece suit with his blond hair slicked back, he looked every inch the high priced lawyer he had become after our paths diverged after high school. Plenty of jokes about how lawyers were scummy people in one way or another crept into my mind.

  The difference was that Brice really was a scummy person, as I’d found out less than twenty-four hours ago. His name wasn’t one I ever expected to hear again, much less in the context of him having fathered a little girl I had grown fond of, with a woman I was falling for.

  “What did you say?” Anger and suspicion flashed in his green eyes, but he smoothed it away so fast I would have missed it if I hadn’t been waiting for it.

  Looking right into his eyes, I repeated, “I wanted to talk to you about Marissa Hughes.”

  Marissa Hughes. The woman I was here on behalf of, even if she didn’t know it yet. I met Marissa when my father stipulated in his will that I had to employ her as an accounts manager if I wanted to inherit anything from him.

  He was an aeronautical engineer and made billions of dollars doing it. At the time, I thought it was strange and absurd that he had based my inheritance on the condition that I hire Marissa. He passed away without my knowing about the stipulation until it was too late to ask him why he’d included it.

  I thought I was starting to understand his end game, though. Despite not having had the chance to ask him why he had included that as a condition, I was getting answers from a series of videos he left for me with his lawyer.

  The lawyer was supposed to deliver the videos to me at predetermined times. In the first one, my father concluded by saying Marissa was part of the plan he had put in motion for me. The second video, which had prompted my trip to New York to see Brice, told me I had to come here to do right by
Marissa.

  Apparently Brice was responsible for a dark and battered part of her past. Marissa had a little girl. Annie was six and according to my dad, Brice was her father. Marissa and I had never gotten into specifics about who Annie’s father was or what had happened between them.

  She had simply told me she was still working through some stuff, but assured me that Annie’s father was out of the picture and wouldn’t be a problem for the two of us. How my dad knew Brice was Annie’s father was a mystery to me, but any doubt had been wiped away by his reaction to hearing her name.

  Brice knew Marissa for sure. But watching his eyes narrow and the tense apprehension in his features shift once again, I also knew he wasn’t going to talk about her.

  “You know, I haven’t seen you for years,” he said, turning on the easygoing charm that got him voted ‘Most Likely to Succeed’ in high school and probably got him this job. “Let me take you around the city tomorrow. While we’re doing that, we can talk about anything you want.”

  I knew a diversionary tactic when I heard one, but the way Brice’s eyes were darting to the door every two seconds told me he didn’t want to talk about this in his office. He also desperately wanted to get away from me. That much was clear.

  As much as I wanted to get this conversation over and done with so I could get home to Marissa, there was no point in trying when he was going to keep stalling and changing the subject. “Okay, Brice. Let’s go sightseeing tomorrow and you and I can have a little chat.”

  He gave me a tiny nod before shaking my hand and telling me he had to run. Coward.

  Since I hadn’t been planning on hanging around the city, I hadn’t booked a hotel. I got a recommendation for a place nearby from the receptionist at Brice’s firm and took off.

  It was still as miserable outside as it has been when I got there. Misty, gray and drizzling, the weather matched my feelings about the meeting I just walked out of.

  Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I walked the couple of blocks to the hotel. Marissa was on my mind the entire time. My breaths came out in misty puffs as I walked, but I hardly noticed the cold.

  The plans I had for this weekend were supposed to have included spending a day with Marissa and Annie. Last week, Annie had drawn a picture at school which showed the three of us fishing together.

  While I told Marissa that I loved the drawing, and I really did, I also recognized the significance of the fact that Annie had drawn me as part of their family. It prompted me to ask if we could spend more time together, starting with an outing this weekend.

  I was showered and just about to leave for Marissa’s house when my father’s lawyer showed up at mine with the next video. I planned on giving it a quick watch just to get the general gist of it so I wouldn’t spend the entire day wondering instead of focusing on the girls.

  Unfortunately, it was in that video that I learned about the darker parts of Marissa’s past. And the fact that I actually knew Annie’s father. The news had shocked me, and taken me by such surprise that I would have been late going to meet them even if I hadn’t followed my father’s instructions on pretty much an autopilot mode.

  Do the right thing, he said. Talk to Brice Peterson.

  I rolled my eyes now, shaking my head as I walked down the crowded New York sidewalk. My father had told me to do the right thing, but he hadn’t necessarily meant to do it right now.

  So upset by what he’d said, I only realized halfway to fucking New York that I probably should have stopped to talk to Marissa about what I intended on doing. I should have asked her exactly what had happened between the two of them.

  Upset and pissed off was never a good combination. When those emotions were paired up and the one who was hurt was a person you cared deeply about, you did stupid shit. At least, I did stupid shit. That much was obvious by my sudden presence in New York to confront a man I hadn’t seen in years, about a girl who hadn’t seen him in years either.

  And throughout it all, I still hadn’t spoken to Marissa. I sent and left messages for her, but she hadn’t replied yet. She was pissed, and for a good reason.

  I totally stood her up. Stood Annie up. There was no doubt in my mind there would be hell to pay for that. Before I went home, I was going to have to come up with a solid plan and a fucking good apology.

  The hotel the receptionist told me about was a plain looking brick building with a faded red awning over the entrance and an actual red carpet outside. A doorman with a black hat on stood outside, opening the door with a sweep of his arm, a smile and a gruff, “Welcome to the Ideal, sir.”

  As I walked into the lobby, I didn’t know if the place was—as the name suggested—ideal. But it was very nice. It was an old world charm kind of hotel, complete with golden curtain rails and a sweeping staircase covered by a plush emerald carpet.

  There were modern elements incorporated as well. I knew without having to ask that the nightly price tag was going to be steep. Such a place in this part of town was sure to cost a pretty penny. But I didn’t mind. I just wanted to get to my room so I could try Marissa again somewhere where I had a little privacy.

  The conversation we had to have wasn’t going to be short, easy or friendly. I was going to have to account for my absence when I was supposed to have been taking them out, as well as for the fact that I hadn’t called or let her know I wasn’t going to be making it.

  Once I got past that hurdle, if I could keep her on the phone that long, I was going to have to tell her where I was and why. Under circumstances where she hadn’t been the one to tell me about Brice to begin with.

  It was going to be a bloodbath. My blood.

  Marissa was a tough cookie. She had raised Annie all by herself, ostensibly without a cent from the scumbag I had an appointment with tomorrow. And she had done so by fighting tooth and nail for everything they had.

  I knew from previous experience that she was fiercely protective of Annie. To the point of being borderline irrational sometimes, but I got it. Annie was all she had, and she was all Annie had. Her instincts to protect Annie were honed and tempered by all the fires she’d had to walk through to get them to where they were today.

  After checking in to the hotel without bothering to balk at the prices, I got into an elevator that was way more modern than the rest of the establishment, and made my way to my room. It was a decently sized junior suite with a king sized bed covered in deep red bedding and huge white pillows.

  There was a bank of windows that looked out over the wall of the hotel next door, but blocked out most of the noise from the street below. A small sitting area with a sofa and a coffee table was next to the window, along with a work desk and a mini fridge.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket as I took off my jacket and tie, I dialed Marissa’s number and strode over to the windows. I watched the drizzle blow against the window and listened to the ringing of the phone, hoping that she was going to answer my call this time. She did not.

  A knock on my door interrupted my inner debate over whether to try calling her again. I frowned. No one knew I was here and I hadn’t ordered anything up, so I had no idea who could be at the door.

  The receptionist from downstairs stood in the hallway, wearing a polite smile when I opened the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. I’ve come to tell you you’ve been upgraded to the penthouse suite.”

  “Upgraded?” I asked, puzzled. “Why?”

  “Compliments of Mr. Brice Peterson,” she replied brightly, motioning me out into the hall to follow her. “I’ll show you up. It’s our best room. You’re going to love it.”

  Brice upgraded me? Fuck, of course he did. The pieces started clicking into place then. His receptionist made the recommendation for this hotel. He must have seen me talking to her and then found out later where I was headed.

  If he thought upgrading me to the penthouse suite was going to let him off the hook for the shit he’d done in the past, he was sorely mistaken. The receptionist was still waiting for me to foll
ow her with an expectant smile. Sighing, I went to grab my stuff and went to see my new room.

  It was massive. It had the same plush carpeting and coloring as my original room, but it was at least twice the size and had a view over the top of the hotel next door instead of only its wall.

  Nice as it was, it wasn’t going to buy my acceptance for what Brice had done to Marissa. None of that was the receptionist’s fault, though. I thanked her and once she was gone, huffed out a deep breath.

  Brice was so darn transparent, it was embarrassing for him. As if he knew I was thinking about him, the phone in my room rang and I answered it to hear Brice’s voice at the other end of the line.

  “Layton, my man. How’s the room?”

  “It’s fine.” So was the other one, I wasn’t planning on staying more than one night. Two at most. I needed to get back home, back to Marissa so I could face the music.

  Brice cleared his throat, as if he was surprised by my harsh tone and lack of excitement about the upgrade. “Anyway, I was calling to let you know I’ll come pick you up in the morning. I’ll be there around eight.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I assured him coolly. He hesitated before giving small-talk another shot. When he realized I wasn’t going to bite, he sighed and ended the call.

  The phone clicked when I put it back into the cradle. Great, I now had the rest of the day to kill in a city I didn’t want to be in, hundreds of miles away from the person I wanted to be with.

  I paced for a couple of minutes, frustrated that my dad made me come here and angry with myself for taking off on Marissa without letting her know. Shaking my head, I went for my laptop. I was here now, I might as well get some work done while I waited to confront Brice. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.

  Chapter 52

  Marissa