by Towne, L. E.
“Good, really good. I had three gigs last month and three upcoming, including Kansas City, which is a big one. Got a couple of proposals in to consult with Rictner and Saltzman. “
“Yeah, I heard they were putting out some RFP’s. We were going to try for them, but they were small potatoes.”
“Which is why it’s perfect for me. They don’t need a big team like yours.”
“Good, I hope you get it, but that’s not what I meant,” Jack said. “I was asking about you and Dani, not the job.”
Ross thought about his answer before saying anything. The work was coming along, everything falling into place, all according to the plan. And yet, there was something not quite right about it. He couldn’t put his finger on it, except that he thought he’d be happier with the way his career was going.
“Just a little rough patch. Nothing that won’t work out.” He put his relationship issues into the Dani’s unhappy column and under that heading he mentally ticked off her not getting the lead role in some play, and her having to work out of town jobs more than she wanted. This absolved him of any responsibility for their general malaise. Jack, as usual, did not agree and brought up a point that Ross had hoped to avoid.
“And you talking to Az has nothing to do with it?”
“How do you know I talk to Az?”
“Apparently, I grilled her. . . about you, which is weird, because I already know more than I want to about you.”
“Az mentioned you had drinks.”
“We did.” Jack spent an inordinate amount of time chewing his sandwich. Ross sipped his fountain drink. They watched the pigeons mill around for crumbs.
“Well?”
Jack choked back a laugh and sipped more coffee before he answered.
“It was all good, she likes you man, thinks you’re a good speaker. So I put my two cents in, said you were a hard worker, yada yada the whole bit. You owe me.”
“I told her not to take your word for anything—said you were a pathological liar.”
“And here I said such nice things about you.”
“Whatever.” Ross leaned over and tossed his cup in the trash.
“So you guys are obviously talking outside of conferences now. She’s a good contact, a great contact, but don’t you think it’s getting a little too friendly?”
“I got it under control.”
“Good old controlled Ross. You think that maybe, just maybe, your issues with Dani could be related to the fact that you’re falling for this girl?”
“You make a lousy Jiminy Cricket. We’re friends, that’s all.” Ross put his half-eaten hotdog on the bench beside him. “How’s Sienna? She making your lunches now?”
“I got this at the Downstairs Deli, in the United Bank building. A very nice girl from San Juan runs the place. Her name’s Linda Arroyo and she makes an excellent Cuban sandwich. You should try it.”
“Thank you Guy Fieri, I will.”
“And Sienna’s fine, getting set to take the bar. She fairly pushed me out the door to that conference, just to give her some studying space.”
Jack finished the last of his fabulous Arroyo sandwich.
“How do you keep it together?” Ross turned serious. “I mean, you and Sienna are just as busy as we are, if not more so, and yet, you never seem to have...issues.”
“Dude, we got plenty of issues. She hates when I leave the lids off of things, the soda, the milk, the toothpaste. She hates it—bitches at me all the time. I can’t stand that she leaves her bras on my side of the bathroom. She’s got her own damn space in there and she’s stringing girly lace all over. But we get used to it I guess, and when something really, really bugs us, we have a fight and work it out. Sometimes, it takes two fights, but once we’re done, we’re done.”
“I got ya.”
“And the make-up sex is awesome.” Jack tipped his cup back to finish the last of what was probably his fifth java of the day. Ross laughed, but his cheerfulness waned as he thought about how he and Dani used to be. They used to be like Jack and Sienna, having spats over everyday conflicts, making up within a day or two with some pretty spectacular sex. He couldn’t remember doing that in a while. Lately, it seemed an argument would fizzle out because they were tired and then pick back up a few days later, nothing ever getting resolved.
“Hey I got to run. Have a conference call at two.” Ross got up. He picked a fallen leaf off his navy sweater, dusted himself off, grabbed the hotdog and threw it away.
“Yeah, me too.” Jack tossed his coffee cup in the trash. “So hang in there with Dani. And, it’s okay to have friends in the business, but when you start fantasizing about them in the shower, that’s going a little far.”
“Don’t worry man. I haven’t fantasized about you in years.”
“Asshole.” Jack chided him as he walked away.
Ross flipped him a somewhat friendly middle finger as they moved in opposite directions. But he knew Jack was right, because it was Azure’s face that came to him in those private moments. Moments when need became action, usually by himself in the shower, or in bed when Dani was gone. On rare occasions it happened when he and Dani were making love, and that brought a truck load of guilt.
-7-
Ross was a born and raised Chicagoan, and considered himself immune to cold, but he shivered in his thin overcoat as the Colorado wind whipped particles of snow outside the DIA terminal. He hurried to hail a cab. When it stopped for him, he didn’t bother with the trunk, just pulling his garment bag into the back seat with him as he gave the driver the address of the hotel.
Azure’s next contact had been via email when she booked him for the big marketing convention in her hometown. She did mention some downtime in her email along with a tentative invite to dinner with her and her husband. This wasn’t the extra time he’d been looking for, but he couldn’t very well blow off a dinner simply because it included Jonathan.
Jonathan Worth was English, Azure meeting him while staying in London. He worked at some sort of software engineering job, with a stateside branch of a UK corporation. Az had told Ross he was a good dad, though a little too strict and regimented for their four-year-old.
Ross hadn’t realized, in spite of seeing a picture on her phone, was what a good looking guy Jonathan was. The couple trailed the maitre’d through the posh Denver restaurant to the corner booth where Ross waited.
Azure led the way, her long tweed coat obscuring her from his view. Jonathan had taken off his black overcoat and wore the most beautifully cut dove grey suit Ross had ever seen. Dani would positively drool over this man in this suit. Under the jacket was a black dress shirt, open at the neck. A silver chain around his neck held a small medallion barely visible when he moved.
Ross stood as they approached the table. Jonathan was just a hair under his own 6’1”, but maybe twenty pounds thinner, lithe and sleek. He was naturally dark, with olive skin, dark brown hair worn longer than Ross’s, and wavy, with a well-trimmed goatee. His cool grey eyes regarded Ross intently, but as they shook hands, he cracked a grin that made Ross think of a pirate.
After quick introductions, Jonathan carefully slipped the overcoat off Azure’s shoulders, watching Ross’s reaction as he looked at his wife.
Ross tried not to gawk. She was at her most elegant, every curve accented by the wrap dress. She definitely complemented her well-dressed husband. The stunning dress draped around like a red cloud as she settled into the booth. The light caught tiny ruby and diamond earrings and the color seemed to make her irises darker, not their usual calm lavender, but a deep midnight blue, rich and seductive and-
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long, so sorry we’re late.” Jonathan’s voice startled Ross out of his fantasy. “Traffic was wretched.” His accent was crisp and elegant, from whatever part of England that produced Lawrence Olivier rather than Eliza Doolittle. His manner of speaking might have been pretentious except that it was punctuated with British slang like bollocks, tosser, arse and Ross’s f
avorite line: taking the piss.
Azure ate very little, picking at her duck confit as she tried to come up with things to talk about. Apparently, Jonathan hated discussing work, business, politics or popular culture.
“So Jonathan, what do you think of the Broncos chances this year? Are you a fan?” Ross tipped his second beer. He was drinking too much, too fast.
“I don’t follow the Broncos mate, American football is so convoluted.”
“Oh, right, you like soccer, then, right?”
“Real football.”
Ross thought for a moment.
“Are you taking the piss right now? Real football? Seriously?”
Jonathan’s dark brows came together in a perfect frown, his eyes squinted. Then he leaned back and laughed, shaking his head.
“You’re a quick study.”
“Part of my job.” Ross smiled back. The tension eased a fraction.
“Az likes football,” Jonathan said as a way of making things better.
“I remember. She totally smoked me on a bet. Who ever thought the Saints would do that well?” Ross looked to Jonathan for some kind of camaraderie.
“She can be pretty ruthless when it comes to any kind of wager. You should have seen her at the casino. First vacation we had since Eli was born and we went to Vegas, just the two of us.” Jonathan smiled at his wife and she returned it halfway. “Lots of sun, clubs and unfortunately, very addictive slot machines.”
“You make me sound like a candidate for Gamblers Anonymous.” Azure’s tone dropped half an octave.
“No love, it was just supposed to be a romantic getaway, and I spent a few more hours waiting in the bar than I would have liked is all.” Jonathan’s smile was gone, while his words were kind, the inner pirate emerged and the tone was saber sharp.
“I hear Vegas has some great drink specials at five in the morning.” Ross made a tiny motion toward Az. He hoped she would remember their conversation in the hotel workout room from months back. About great bars at five in the morning, the conversation that got them to Memphis, and how Memphis turned into online chats, and then the cab ride in Kansas City. But, of course, he couldn’t say all of that. Her head came up and she sipped her drink, but her mouth curved up before the glass covered it. Ross turned back to see Jonathan taking it all in and just like that, the tension was back.
“Not that I know, per say, Vegas is still on my list of places to visit.” Ross directed his comment to Jonathan, afraid of what his face would give away if he looked at Azure again.
“It’s a fun place, but it’s not real.” Jonathan’s clipped accent lengthened and his voice dropped. “The buildings are facades of other places, the people are all trying to sell you something, it’s all lights and glitter and no substance.” He placed his utensils carefully on his plate and pushed it away. “So, it’s great, if you like that sort of thing. I prefer reality.” His voice timbre almost matched Ross’s baritone.
Ross cleared his throat. “I’ve found that life is what you make of it. One’s man’s reality could be another’s fantasy.” He aimed for lighthearted and failed.
“Or the other way around.” Jonathan leaned back and the waiter cleared their plates, took coffee and dessert orders. “For instance, life with a fashion model must be pretty fantastic. Lots of men would fantasize about that.”
“It’s not as glamorous as you would think.” Ross replied, almost grateful for the change of subject. “She spends a huge amount of time on her career, and her career is about looking good.”
“Still, knowing that your woman is the object of other men’s fantasies, how does that affect you? I would find it bloody difficult.”
“I never really thought of it that way. I suppose it’s like you said. It’s all glitter and lights. It’s not real, so why would it be difficult?”
“Ross has a very pragmatic view of things, it serves him well in the field, I think.” Az interjected into the men’s sparring.
With that comment, things went from bad to worse. Jonathan seemed to feel that Azure’s occupation—and by extension, Ross’s—served only to make more money for the corporate rich in America.
“I’ve always been more about the knowledge than the profits.” Ross interjected, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. Jonathan cast an infinitely British disdainful look at him. Ross wanted to kick the man out of his country, or at least sock him in the mouth. Azure came to the rescue again.
“Ross’s approach to marketing is very effective and easy to learn. He’s one of our more popular speakers.”
The waiter arrived with coffee and desserts, enabling everyone to focus on something else for a moment. Jonathan managed to look a little apologetic.
“I’m sure you’re right, love. A chap can only get so far on good looks.”
“I’ve never relied on the superficial to get ahead, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No insult intended.” Jonathan paid particular attention to his crème brulee and thankfully made no further comments. Ross and Azure managed to small talk about the upcoming conference until the evening came to a close.
The next evening, Ross stretched out on the hotel bed. He’d been pleased with his answers at the panel and had let Jonathan’s barbs from the previous evening slip to the back of his mind. The wind had subsided and given way to clear moonlit sky that he could view from his twelfth- floor room.
It wasn’t late, but Ross had been going all day, networking, passing out cards, discussing possible work with other clients. Az had been right, this was a huge convention and everyone was here, and the fact he was a panelist as well as a speaker in one of the breakout conference rooms would be great for his career. Jack Issacson was here also, and they’d sat at the same table during the luncheon. Jack was off hob-nobbing with his own team and the upper echelon firms at some wine bar.
Once again, Dani was home while he was gone. It seemed lately they’d passed each other on their various commuter trips, she just getting home the day before he was scheduled to leave. Most of the time, they tried to reconnect online and he turned on his tablet before getting out of his conference suit. He donned his blue plaid sleep pants and made himself a Jameson and water from the bottle in his bag. He grimaced at the tepid drink, since he’d forgotten to get ice. He was settled on the bed with the TV on mute before Dani’s call came in. He tapped the screen of his tablet and her face appeared.
“Hi,” she said. She was still dressed in a black and silver top and long strands of silver hung in her earlobes. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, 11:40—12:40 in Chicago.
“Hi, I thought you were staying in tonight.”
Dani fairly bounced. “I was, but guess what?” She rushed on before he could say anything. “Chad and Sandy are getting married.”
Ross frowned, “Haven’t they been engaged for like a year now?”
“No. Well, not officially, but now, it’s official. They’ve set a date. April 15th.”
“Tax day?” Ross sipped his drink.
“Only you would think of that,” she huffed at him, the earrings swaying as she leaned over. “Hold on.” She picked up the lap top and carried it with her, providing him with a smushed view of black material with silver thread embroidery before she set it down. Dani moved about the room, stripping out of her clothes. “So they set the date and tonight Sandy asked me to be her maid of honor. I thought she’d pick her sister, but...” she stopped and wriggled out of a skin tight skirt. “She said her sister was crazy, like literally, on meds and in therapy somewhere.”
“Being Sandy’s sister, I don’t doubt it.”
“Ross.” Dani tipped the laptop so she could see him. His eyes went to the tops of her breasts curving up from her bra—some sort of push-up number in pink and black lace. “Be nice.”
“I’m kidding. Go on, and back up a little, okay? I’m enjoying the view.”
She laughed and did as he asked, posing and strutting just a little as she moved out of camera range.
She talked to him from the bathroom.
“So anyway, she didn’t think her sis would be up to it, and she asked me, and of course, I’m happy to do it. It will be so much fun. We’re going dress shopping tomorrow.”
“How’s Chad in all of this?”
She returned wearing her pink chenille robe. Her hair piled into a messy knot on her head.
“I dunno, you know Chad. He’s fine with whatever.”
“I bet.” Ross sighed. “I imagine that’s where you’ve been? Out making the big plan of attack.”
“Yes, and ohmygod there’s so much to do. She’s already got a venue, thank God, but still, there’s invites, and guest lists, and other bridesmaids and . . .” Dani settled onto the bed, fluffing pillows behind her as she talked. Ross’s mind wandered. The TV showed cops standing around a bloody corpse covered with a sheet. He flicked the remote until he found a sports channel. His phone was on the night stand where he’d unloaded his pockets, along with a few receipts accumulated from the trip. He smoothed them out, lining them up in date order.
“Did I tell you where she’s having it?” Dani asked. He wasn’t sure.
“Um, no.” He glanced back at the screen. She was filing her nails, not looking at him.
“It’s at River East Arts Center. Usually it’s booked years in advance—”
“East River?” Ross had never heard of it. He gathered up his receipts, the top one was for ninety bucks at Stark. He’d offered to pay for Az and Jonathan’s dinner also, but neither would hear of it and he wouldn’t allow Jonathan to pay for his, there was just something wrong about that. As it was, ninety was almost half of his budgeted food allowance for the entire weekend. He’d have to skimp on everything for the next day and half.
“Yes, you know that really trendy place with all the modern collections? We had our photo shoot for Chicago Trends there last year. Ross? Are you listening?”
Jonathan and his preppy Brit accent would shine with the East River crowd, whereas he—the middle class kid from Hickory Hills would stick out like some poor relation.