Heels of Steel

by Barbara Kavovit

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “That’s not what I meant. That came out wrong.”

  Jay suddenly thought of Bridget. Of the way they sat on the beach together that night, sharing champagne, watching the moon. He felt sick.

  He looked at Hana. “Go back to Liam, Hana.”

  She whirled on him, her braid flying. “I can’t go back to Liam!”

  “Then go be by yourself if that’s what you want. But you don’t need me. For God’s sake, I don’t think you even want me. Why are you playing at this?”

  Her face contorted and she started to cry. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just thought it would be easier, like it used to be.”

  He closed his eyes. “It was never really easy between us, Hana. You know that.”

  She stared at him, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry,” she choked out.

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “At least Alli didn’t know.”

  “That’s right,” she sobbed. “No one really got hurt.”

  He pulled his hand away. “Well...” He shook his head. “That’s definitely not true.”

  She looked at him for a moment. She had stopped crying, but her cheeks were still wet with tears. “I’m going to go,” she said at last.

  He nodded. “You need me to call a ride?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll call my driver. I’m good.” She reached out and tentatively put her hand on his arm. “If I...messed anything up for you, Jay, I’m sorry. I really am.”

  He shrugged. “I made my own choices.”

  “I just want you to know. I didn’t want this just because I thought it would be easier, you know. I also thought...even though you weren’t always around. When you were here. I think you really saw me, Jay. I think you knew me. And I always appreciated that.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I’m glad,” he said at last.

  She dropped her hand off his arm and wiped her face, went into the living room to collect her purse. He followed her to the door. She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Chapter 70

  For Liam, the presentation was pretty much over before it began. He’d lost vital days of preparation wandering in Scarlett’s house like he was stupid frigging Odysseus and Scarlett was Calypso. He still wasn’t sleeping or eating much, so he was blurry and slow. And he’d never realized just how much he’d leaned on Redetzke for fresh ideas until he was in the room with a dozen guys—Harrington, Kim, the anchor tenants, all the investors, the owner’s rep, the architect, the real estate brokers and the engineering firm—all staring him down, and he found himself with absolutely nothing of interest to say.

  He went on automatic, woodenly reciting why South Side Construction was the best company for the job, but he could see the bored looks being thrown around the room. He knew for certain that he’d lost the whole thing when he saw Kim check his phone not once, but three times. Still, he slogged through until he had hit all his talking points and shown them all their projected schedule, the team and a lengthy approach to how they would build the project. He let each member of his team present, and then he’d wrapped it up and sent all his people out ahead of him as fast as he could, lingering just a moment longer to shake everyone’s hand and thank them.

  No one even made eye contact.

  “See you for tennis next week, Kim?” he said just before he left, and Kim had waved his hand in the air noncommittally, as if he was embarrassed that people might think he was the reason Liam was there in the first place.

  His team was waiting for him in the lobby, but Liam didn’t want to face them, so at the last second, he took the stairs ten flights down and went out a back way, his heart pumping from the exertion. When he got out to the street, he texted his assistant that they’d all done a good job, and to tell everyone to take the rest of the day off. He’d see them tomorrow.

  It was a warm, gorgeous late-spring day. The bodegas had dozens of plastic buckets of lilac branches stacked out front, and the purple candy scent filled the air. It was that brief, effervescent moment before summer really arrived and the city got too hot and humid. People were smiling at each other on the street, making eye contact and moving around each other like they were all partners in an elaborate vernal dance.

  Liam moved through all this spring sweetness with a sour gut and the feeling that he might punch someone if they dared come too close. He had screwed it all up. No Hana. No Alli. He was living out of the N. Moore Penthouse at the Greenwich Hotel for twenty-five hundred freaking dollars a night, having ceded his loft to Hana for the time being.

  So much for Scarlett’s advice. Throw himself into the work? Instead, he’d wallowed and procrastinated and lost his best employee, thanks to Bridget Steele. And now he’d lost the job, too.

  By now he had figured out that Scarlett’s whole song and dance about keeping him around because they were two poverty-traumatized soul mates was an utter front. She had obviously been hand in hand with Bridget the entire time, inviting him to stay at her place so she could keep him distracted while Bridget put a knife in his back and finished poaching Redetzke. He almost had to laugh, he’d been played so expertly.

  He’d been thinking about Hana constantly, of course, but he’d also been thinking about Jay. Everything he felt now, he suddenly realized, he had already inflicted upon his friend. The heartbreak, the jealousy, the betrayal, the sense of loss. And as much as he hated feeling it all, there was a part of him that knew he deserved it. And an even bigger part of him that wanted to make it right.

  He pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment, wondering if Jay even still had the same number. Then he shrugged and scrolled, looking for his name—he supposed he could only try.

  Wanna get a drink at Locanda Verde after your presentation today?

  Sure, came the answer, why not?

  Chapter 71

  Jay smiled and threw a discreet double thumbs-up at Leela as they walked out of the conference room. She returned the gesture and then let out a huge breath as if she’d been holding it for the entire two hours they’d been in the room.

  The presentation had gone very well. Jay had put on the charm just like his dad had taught him. He’d warmed up the room with a little speech about how excited they were to have a chance to build for Harrington & Kim and HealthTec. He made a point of mentioning that his own father had worked for Harrington back when Harrington was a younger man, and that Jay knew his dad would be thrilled about the possibility of the relationship being carried on into the future. He talked about how many buildings Russo Construction had already built in Manhattan, and how much pride they had taken in every single one. Then there was time for the more educational portion of the presentation—Leela’s flowcharts and his project manager’s and field super’s approach to building the monstrosity. They talked about tearing down the current buildings before they started building up the new one; they mentioned the vendors they liked and the kind of materials they might use as alternates if lead times didn’t meet the schedule. It all went perfectly—everyone covered their topics just like they’d rehearsed; no stone was left unturned as they went bullet point by bullet point through everything they would do to make this job a huge success. There was a question and answer session, then Jay tied it all up in the end—pointing out that there was no company in Manhattan with the same level of experience as his, nor an equal to Russo Construction’s reputation for safety, transparency and competency. That Harrington & Kim and HeathTec knew exactly what they were getting if they contracted with Russo Construction—Harrington had grinned a giant grin when he said this, which Jay took as a sign of approval—and that he really looked forward to showing everyone in the room what they could do.

  The panel applauded in a warm and polite way. Jay and his team shook hands with everyone, both Harrington and Kim themselves promised to be in touch
soon, and out they all went.

  As they were heading for the elevator, Harrington popped out of the conference room and called for Jay to wait up. Jay waved his team into the elevator and told them to go on ahead, they would debrief tomorrow. “Amazing job, everyone!” he enthused as the elevator door closed between them.

  “Hey, Mark,” said Jay. “What can I do for you? Did you have any more questions?”

  “No, no. You guys were very thorough. I just wanted to say, nice work,” said Harrington. “And to thank you for coming in and tell you that you really reminded me of your old man. You know, he and I had a very special relationship over the years.”

  “Yeah,” said Jay, “I remember you guys working together quite a bit. You did all the interior work together on the first wave of Starbucks to make it into the city, right?”

  Harrington laughed. “Yeah, but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to be blamed for the corporate takeover of Big Coffee, you know? But yeah, we did really, really well on those projects.” He darted a look around and then leaned in closer. “And you know what? I’m sure we can build a great project. Just like your dad and I used to.”

  “You guys already make up your mind in there?” Jay joked. “That sounds like good news for Russo Construction.”

  Harrington grinned a wolfish grin. “We’ve got a few more to see today, of course, but I can’t imagine anyone coming in ahead of your team. Just like you said in there—you and your dad always knew how to get it done. By the way, once we get everything signed, I have a list of subcontractors and vendors that you might want to consider working with. They all have some connection to your father, as well.”

  Jay frowned. He was getting uneasy about the way Harrington seemed to be dancing around certain subjects. Of course, this business was full of grift and back-scratching and outright corruption, but Russo Construction had an impeccable reputation for honesty and transparency. People didn’t bother bringing their backroom deals to Jay because they knew there was no point in even trying.

  But, he reminded himself, guys like Mark Harrington were old-school, used to doing things one way and one way only. Jay might simply be reading something into this conversation that wasn’t there. Maybe Harrington was just hoping to bring that kind of old-fashioned camaraderie—cigars and drinks and dirty jokes—back to the project. Maybe not Jay’s favorite way to handle business, but he could certainly do it with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back.

  “That’s great,” he said. “We’d be happy to take a look.”

  Harrington grinned even bigger and clasped his hand to Jay’s shoulder. “This is going to be beautiful,” he said happily. “We’re both gonna come out of this deal very happy men.”

  Before Jay could answer, the elevator dinged and the doors opened up, and Bridget Steele and her motley crew of a team stepped off into the hallway.

  Jay froze. This was the first time he’d seen her since the Hamptons, and he felt his mind go blank.

  She met his eyes but no more. Her face was a mask. She gave him nothing.

  Harrington dropped his hand off Jay’s shoulder and stepped forward. “Bridget!” he said with a huge smile. He leaned over and gave her the standard kiss on each cheek. “We’re so excited to see your presentation today!” He put his arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the conference room. “Come this way, my dear.”

  She looked back over her shoulder and briefly met Jay’s eyes again before being ushered behind closed doors. This time a smile played on her mouth, the tiniest of smirks, like a professional challenge.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Jay slumped against the wall. He was sweating. She actually made him sweat. She’d been beautiful, in a stark black pinstriped pantsuit, cripplingly high heels, top button of her jacket unbuttoned to show the briefest flash of a lilac-colored lace and cotton camisole. Her hair was drawn back off her face, firmly secured at the base of her neck. The stern style served to make her face seem younger and softer in comparison. Under Harrington’s arm, she’d looked like a rebellious teenager being escorted into the principal’s office.

  He could still smell her, that changeable, light, woody fragrance that she wore, that deeper, richer scent of her own skin underneath. The lingering smell and the scandalous memories that it unfurled in his mind made him want to charge into the room after her and publicly confess what a fool he’d been to let her go.

  His phone buzzed. It was Liam.

  Still on for a drink?

  Chapter 72

  Bridget loved giving presentations. She knew plenty of people in the industry who hated this part of the job, who felt like the work should be awarded based on numbers on the page, not some tap dance in a conference room, but Bridget knew it was where she was at her best. She loved the pressure, she loved the performance, she loved having a captive audience. She loved starting with a room full of people who doubted her, and seeing their faces change from distrust, to surprise, and then excitement by the end of her pitch. Sometimes she thought that, in another life, she would have been an actress or the lead singer for a rock band, anything that allowed her to command the stage.

  No matter where she presented, some things never seemed to change. The ubiquitous mahogany paneling on the walls, the long, polished conference table with the lineup of mostly white, mostly older, men in expensive suits sitting behind it, and the look of shock on their faces when they realized that the young, pretty woman who just walked in wasn’t a secretary, but actually the CEO who would be running this whole damn thing.

  While Ethan set up the projected computer screen, Bridget slowly walked to the center of the room and turned to face the lineup. “I know what you all are thinking.”

  The men stared back at her. She noticed Harrington giving her a subtle wink, and her smile got a little bit bigger.

  She looked over the assembled group of men, carefully making eye contact with each one. “You’re thinking, ‘Didn’t Steele Construction go bankrupt? Wasn’t there a big public scandal? Wasn’t Bridget Steele chased out of town with pitchforks and torches? And what the hell is that woman doing up there?’”

  She crossed over to the table and sat on the edge, dangling her four-inch stiletto from her right toe. “And the answers are, yes, yes, no, but I might as well have been, and I am here, we are here, because you are not going to find a better company to build your skyscraper.” She jumped down from the table, giving Ethan the cue to bring up their first slide, a redesigned version of her company logo:

  Steele Construction, Inc.

  “Think about it,” she said, pacing the room. “We all really want this project. Like, pay-the-rent, feed-our-kids really need this job. What company have you seen who will care that passionately? All these other guys, these other companies that are presenting to you—they’re already set for life. What’s one more skyscraper to them, right? But for me—this job will be my everything, and I am determined to get every aspect of it perfect. I will eat, sleep and dream this building until it is exactly what everyone in this room wants it to be.”

  Bridget knew she was taking a chance bringing up her failures; she knew that it would have been safer to just launch into her presentation and hope like hell that they focused on her strengths, but she also knew that her story, her collapse, was the nine-hundred-pound gorilla in the room, and if she didn’t shoot it, skin it and then wear it as a fur coat first thing—she wouldn’t stand a chance getting these guys to think about anything else.

  She turned to her team, all sitting behind her, smiling at Ethan, handsome and confident in his thousand-dollar suit; Mrs. Hashemi in her little yellow sweater set; Lee, with his stylish three-piece ensemble and polka-dot bow tie; Ava, calm and collected and drop-dead gorgeous in a black vintage DVF wrap dress and cage heels; Redetzke, looking sweaty and out of place and totally freaked out by her presentation so far, but holding the keys to their success; and sweet, good Danny
Schwartz, looking at her like she had hung the moon and the stars, and who had obviously pulled out his best shirt and tie and pressed them himself.

  “This is my team. And yes, perhaps they may seem not exactly the type of people you are used to seeing in this business, but do not underestimate them. They are all the absolute best at what they do. You will not find a group with a greater well of knowledge about building in all of New York, and I am so excited for you to hear what they have to say.”

  She walked back to the center of the room. “We have been working on this presentation around the clock for weeks now. We have a vision for your building. Something big and bold and new and unforgettable.” She turned to the team representing the anchor tenants. “Something that shows HealthTec cares. It will be cutting-edge and environmentally sound and you’ll get as much publicity about the way we build it as you will about the final product.” She shot a look at Ava, who grinned back. “We know we’re going out on a limb—even bringing you a new architectural design. But we want to build something that will last for centuries. Something that will be here after we’re all long gone. With Steele Construction behind you, you can be sure that what is built will be what a skyscraper was always meant to be—a monument for the ages.”

  She looked over at Ethan, signaled him to dim the lights, turned back to face the table and began.

  Chapter 73

  Liam was nursing a scotch and soda at the bar when Jay finally showed up. As usual, every woman in the room followed him with her eyes as he made his way toward the bar, and, as usual, Jay took the attention for granted and didn’t seem to notice a thing.

  “Hey,” said Jay as he slid onto the bar stool next to Liam and signaled the bartender. “So we’re really doing this, huh?”

  Liam gave him a little half smile. “Well, you showed, so I guess we are.”