by Lexie Ray
But instead, Nick packed his bags and simply vanished. He liquidated a good portion of his bank account, keeping the money in a rolling suitcase, bought a clunker of a car at a used car lot just outside of New York City, and ran away from it all, taking great care to stay off the grid, to use only his new name, to burn all the bridges that meant he was a Mason.
“I didn’t want to be what everyone wanted me to be,” he said. “I’d become someone else in college. I’d successfully created Nick Madison, and I liked him. Everyone liked him. I wanted to be him instead of who I really was, and that’s why I had to leave New York City.”
He’d traveled for a while, seeing places he’d always wanted to see but never had the time to investigate, before deciding to settle in Miami. He liked the looks of the city, never fully able to feel completely comfortable in the countryside, away from the sounds of traffic and the streetlights and the skyscrapers, and that’s how we met.
“I liked you from the moment I met you,” he told me, smiling wryly. “It was because you so obviously didn’t give a fuck. You had hairy armpits back then, and your hair was sky blue. Not that I don’t like the pink. I like it very much. It just isn’t what I remember when I first saw you walking down that hall like you owned the place.”
I remembered that day, too — how a befuddled young man had popped his head out of his apartment door when I dropped a cardboard box full of kitchen supplies with a curse, something definitely breaking inside of it. He’d helped me separate what was good from what was shattered, and volunteered to take the garbage down to the dumpster. I knew from the instant he’d bent down to help me — ensuring I was all right, first — that he was going to be the kind of neighbor that everyone wanted. He was kind, beautiful, and helpful, and you couldn’t ask for anything better.
“I just wished you would’ve been upfront about who you really were,” I said, if only to fill the long pause after he’d said his final words. The silence bothered me, left me with too many thoughts of what ifs, of new lights going on in my head that I didn’t want or appreciate, of the sympathy building in my chest. No. I didn’t want to feel like Nick was truly a kindred spirit. I’d come here for the truth and nothing more.
“I couldn’t, Jennet,” he said. “You have to understand. Me being Nicholas Mason…it does things to people.”
“Like what?” I scoffed. “Lights fires of passion within them? Makes their panties damp?”
“Makes them into bad people,” he said. “There was one girl in college who I thought I loved. She was sweet and caring, accepted me for who I was. Then I got the bright idea that I’d let her in on me little secret, my little identity crisis. She surprised me by being fine with it — delighted, even. And I guess that’s where I should’ve been smarter, but I wasn’t. I was young and in love.”
The girl had pressed Nick to buy her expensive gifts, asked for top-of-the-line presents for all occasions, and eventually convinced him to marry her and elope. It wasn’t until Nick’s bags were packed when there was a knock on his dorm room door. Standing out in the hallway was the hulking head of security for Mason Hotels, who simply handed Nick a sealed manila envelope and walked away.
Inside the envelope were photos of the girl he planned on marrying at coffee shops, meeting with lawyers, checking out books on prenuptial agreements and divorces. There were phone conversations and text exchanges detailing how she’d caught a big fish and wasn’t going to let him go for anything less than half of the Mason fortune.
“It broke my heart,” he said. “I really thought I loved her — and that she was genuine about how much she loved me.”
But in reality, she’d been a gold digger, eager to use Nick to get at the money he didn’t even want. He cut ties with her swiftly, broke off the engagement, refused to take her phone calls or answer the door when she came around, crying about why he was being so mean to her. He never called her out, never confronted her, eager to just put the entire mess behind him. It was a lesson learned, a reminder that he couldn’t trust anyone with his true identity. They’d use him for his family’s wealth, disregarding his very true feelings, and leave him behind like a wrapper to a better treat.
“And so why did you come back to New York City?” I asked. “You’d built a pretty good life in Miami — like all of your friends had. Why come back to something you don’t want to be?”
Nick opened his mouth to answer me, but then closed it again, a wry smile on his mouth.
“I don’t think I’m ready to answer that, yet,” he said. “But could you do me a big favor?”
“What?” I found that my anger at him had faded considerably now that I knew the reasoning behind his untruths. They were reasons that hit a little too close to home, but I could appreciate his honesty now.
“Could you go out to dinner with me?” he asked. “Just as friends. I’ve been up here for not very long, and your friendship — well, friendship in general — is something I guess I’ve taken for granted. I forgot just how friendless I am at the top of this building.”
My heart ached for him upon hearing that statement. How could a person be without friends? You always needed friends. I’d learned that the hard way, thinking I could flee states just when the going got rough. But it got so hard relying on myself in difficult situations. Now that I had Faith, Sol, and, yes, even Nick, I realized just how easy and wonderful life could be. I’d been in loads of horrible situations, but I was able to lean on my friends, to let them help me carry some of that burden, and I knew that everything was going to be all right.
“I would love to go to dinner with you,” I said. “You know? I’ve never been to New York City.”
“Really!” Nick exclaimed. “It’s my hometown, you know.”
“I know now,” I laughed, shaking my head, wondering how my anger had dissipated so quickly.
“I’d love to show you around the Big Apple, if you’re game,” he said. “I wanted to explain myself to you, for you to know the truth, but this doesn’t have to be all touchy-feely, let’s talk about our feelings crap.”
“I would love it very much if it wasn’t,” I admitted. “That kind of stuff makes me squirm a little.”
“Thank God,” he sighed. “I thought it was just me. How long do you think you can stay here? I know you have stuff going on back in Miami. I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Greg.”
I flinched when he said that name, and Nick leaned toward me, concerned.
“Jennet? What’s wrong?”
I smiled and shook my head forcefully. “Nothing’s wrong,” I replied. “I can stay here for as long as you want me here. For as long as it takes.”
I wondered at the words that had just dropped out of my mouth. If I didn’t know better, they sounded almost ominous. For as long as what took? But if they bothered Nick, he didn’t seem to show it.
“Perfect,” he said. “Then let me take you to my very favorite places. You know, in spite of me running away from my family and all of that drama, I’ve always missed New York City. There’s no other place like it in the entire world.”
“I’m excited to make its acquaintance,” I said, and we walked out the door.
Chapter 13
It was early evening by the time we reached the street level, and the building’s lights were just starting to twinkle in the dusky air. I knew they called New York the city that never sleeps, but it seemed to me that, with the lights winking on, that it was truly waking up, that New York was a city most beautiful at night.
Nick waved away a team of security personnel that had escorted us through the lobby.
“At least let us drive you to wherever you want to go,” one of the staff members practically begged, and I actually felt a little sorry for him.
“That’s the thing,” Nick said, smiling at me. “I have no idea where we’re going to go. We’re just going to let the wind blow us around the city.”
The man did all but roll his eyes and smack his forehead in consternation, and Nick hooked a
rms with me and started walking. I realized it was probably an exchange they had often — Nick wanting to be Nick and the security personnel wanting to protect a valuable asset from harm. It was probably an exhausting song and dance.
“Do they follow you everywhere?” I asked, looking over my shoulder to see them watching us like hawks. I imagined that they’d stay there until we were out of sight, then scramble some jets or cops or cell phone tracking systems to keep a virtual eye on us.
“Yep,” he said. “They even stand outside of the bathroom when I go in.”
“Well, at least they give you that little privacy,” I said sarcastically. “How do you tolerate it?”
“I don’t, obviously,” he laughed. “They’re hired to protect me, but they’re also hired to do whatever I say. It’s something I take advantage of as frequently as possible.”
I shook my head. At least he knew how to have some kind of limited fun in his capacity as a virtual prisoner to his family’s wealth.
“So where is your favorite place to eat?” I asked, still sort of trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was here, walking the streets of New York City with Nick — only he wasn’t Nick, he was Nicholas Mason, millionaire heir to the Mason Hotels fortune.
Life could be awfully strange. If I had some way to try to alert my past self to the changes that were scheduled to take place in my future life, I would’ve laughed myself out of the room.
“It all depends on what you’re in the mood for,” he said. “Italian? Asian? Steak?”
“You know me,” I laughed. “I can eat anything at any time.” Our often-shared breakfasts of cold pizzas, back when we were still neighbors in Miami, were a testament to this truth.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “So we’d better get something quintessential for New York City, something you can’t get anywhere else.”
Miami could hold its own in a competition for amazing restaurants, so I was interested in seeing what Nick could come up with.
If it had been warmer, if we had just been able to sense the beautiful blue ocean just around the corner, if I hadn’t known that Nick wasn’t who he claimed to be, then maybe this would’ve been another normal afternoon in Miami, walking with my best friend arm in arm to go dig up some grub. We didn’t have any great expectations of each other except for acceptance, and there was an easy, casual air that I’d never really fully appreciated before. It was nice to pretend that things were back to the way I always wanted them to be, but I knew there were some serious things we needed to work out — if we ever wanted to be friends again.
It was strange. Nick and I knew each other, but I still felt shy around him — now that I was more than aware that Nicholas Mason was something of a stranger. I was unsure of him, but honestly, I was even more unsure of myself. I’d been duped by Greg into thinking that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him — something I still couldn’t wrap my mind around. I’d been so careful, so thorough, and yet there I was, believing that some jerk was my Prince Charming.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Nick observed.
“I guess I’m wondering why people aren’t running up to you in the street, asking for your autograph,” I lied, looking to turn the attention away from me.
“I’m an heir, not a movie star,” he said, snorting.
“So is Paris Hilton, and I’m sure she gets as many requests for autographs as movie stars,” I pointed out.
“I’ll start carrying around a tiny Chihuahua and wearing mini dresses, then,” he said, grinning. “Think people would want my autograph, then?”
“You do have awfully nice legs,” I said, and he laughed.
Yep, just like old times — only neither of us were the people we used to be.
We took a quick detour through a corner of Central Park before standing in line for a hot dog cart.
“What’s this?” I asked, trying to hide a smile. “And here I was thinking that you were going to take me to the most exclusive and expensive restaurant in town. That I was going to be embarrassed because I was only wearing jeans.”
“Are appearances that important to you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as we moved forward in the line. “Because I know several exclusive restaurants in town. Ones that even the movie stars have to wait months to get into. All I have to do is make a phone call…”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I said, playfully shoving him. “You know for a fact I don’t give a damn about appearances. And I’m sure that a hot dog will be even more fulfilling than, oh, I don’t know, caviar.”
“You’re right about that,” Nick said, then ordered us a couple of New York specials. “You can never go wrong with a hot dog in the Big Apple.”
We toasted each other with our dinners ironically, then resumed our directionless walking, trying to avoid the dripping condiments. I smiled inwardly, remembering that hot dogs in a Miami park had been Sol’s first meal with Xander after they first met. They were happily together, now. What did this hot dog mean for Nick and me, for our relationship?
I groaned as an enormous splatter of mustard found its way onto the front of my shirt. That was what I got for trying to overanalyze things and failing to notice the pressing issues at hand — like a fully loaded hot dog and the fact that I hadn’t brought a single change of clothes.
“Poor Jennet,” Nick said, smiling as I used my last napkin to clean myself up as best I could. “Likes to wear her food as much as she likes to eat it. Not the worst thing that could happen, you know.”
“It’s just…I didn’t really come very well prepared for this trip,” I said. “I didn’t realize you’d left me the ticket until the time I needed to leave for the airport. There wasn’t any time to pack a bag.”
“Really?” Nick frowned. “I left you that ticket right after you left for work.”
“I didn’t go straight home,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed. That was the night that, after I’d found out Nick wasn’t who he claimed to be, I went to Greg for comfort — the last person who should’ve been comforting me.
“You were with Greg,” Nick correctly surmised. He looked crestfallen. “Are you all going to try to do the long distance thing, now that he’s back in New York?”
“It doesn’t seem very long distance to me right now, given the fact that I’m in the city, as well,” I said sarcastically.
“You’re right,” Nick said. He polished off the last of his hot dog and threw away the napkins he’d amassed. “We should be getting back. I imagine you’d like to spend some time with your Prince Charming instead of me, while you’re in the Big Apple.” He didn’t even try to hide his bitterness.
“It’s not like that anymore,” I sighed, relenting. “Greg…wasn’t who I thought he was. Kind of like you, actually.”
Nick winced. “Sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Why?” I’d been the one to make the dig, not him.
“I tried to warn you about Greg,” he explained. “You didn’t take it very well, though.”
I squinted, trying to remember if that was true. So much had happened in such little time, but then I recalled that certain exchange in the hallway of my apartment building.
“You were just trying to get me to break up with him so you could have another chance with me,” I accused. “You weren’t trying to warn me at all.”
“I was,” he insisted. “I’m sorry that it was clumsy. I was desperate at that point, worried about my future, about Greg, about you.”
“Why were you so worried about Greg?” I asked, suspicious. “He’s your employee, after all.” What, was Nick just afraid of a little competition in the dating scene?
“That doesn’t keep him from being an asshole,” he said, scowling. “If Greg had been the one to out me while I was in Miami, it would’ve been humiliating. He would’ve found a way to make it into the worst possible thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For example, he would watch me until he knew my schedule beyond a shadow of a doubt, then
invite the media on a stakeout so they could get a shot of me taking out the trash to the dumpster in my sweatpants,” he explained. “The headline in all the tabloids would be something like ‘Missing Millionaire Found Slumming it in Miami Hovel.’”
I scoffed and shook my head. “I don’t know that he would do that to you,” I said. “Why would he want to bite the hand that feeds him?”
“He wouldn’t have admitted to it, first of all,” Nick said. “He would’ve said that it was just by chance that I was caught at a humiliating moment, or that the media was there at all.”
“Why do you keep someone around like that, then?” I asked. “He seems like more of a liability than an asset.”
“When he wants to be, he’s a very valuable asset,” he said, his face grim.
“How so?”
“Do you really want to know?” Nick leveled a stare at me. It made me shudder, but I nodded all the same. This was a trip I was making for the truth. I couldn’t be squeamish about it.
“They — the rest of the security staff — have a nickname for Greg.” Nick swallowed noticeably. “They call him Don Juan.”
“Don Juan?” I repeated. “Like, basically a man-whore?”
“That would be reasonable,” he said carefully. “Greg is really good at manipulating people to get what he wants. They never even suspect that he’s not who he says he is unless he tells them — which, I’m guessing, he told you.”
“That’s right,” I said dully, then tried to force myself to brighten up. “Well, at least he made a career out of it, and that I just wasn’t some stupid girl, right?”
“You’re not stupid,” Nick said fiercely. “You were duped, Jennet, into falling for him. And your heartache is all my fault. I’m the one responsible for it. Greg was just doing his job, basically. He’s an asshole and his job is being an asshole, but he wouldn’t have dragged you into it if not for me.”