Loose Ends

by Kristen Ashley

  Having her.

  Knowing later he’d tease her about her ridiculous shoes that cost more than most made in a month and put her just as tall as him (right, maybe an inch taller). And she’d pretend to be pissed, but she’d love it, like she always pretended to be pissed when he gave her shit, but he could tell by the way her lips curved up she loved it. And he’d know what kind of beer she drank and how her hair looked windswept after a walk on the beach and how she took her coffee and how she looked naked and spread out . . .

  Hap bit off another huge hunk of his sandwich, stopping his train of thought, reminding himself he’d never have Luciana Gordon on his arm.

  Not only because he should not ever go there because she was his brother’s woman.

  Though that was part of it.

  But because he knew where she was at.

  She was feeling things out.

  She was trying to find her new groove.

  But once she found it, with someone else, that man—no matter how decent he was, how rich, how good-looking, how smart or funny . . . no matter what he was.

  He would always come second best to a dead man.

  The Code

  Luci

  LUCI WALKED INTO Cipriani and the place was its usual crush.

  She’d always loved it there. The gold glow of the room. The warm wood. The scribble of the bartender shaking a cocktail shaker with glasses in front of him—the Cipriani symbol, subtle and chic and everywhere, even etched into the cutlery.

  The tables were close together, scores of servers rushing about as best they could, squeezing through the non-existent space.

  But even with that, she saw Pearl right away, and this was mostly because she was in what Luci suspected was head-to-toe gold lamé. And Luci suspected this was head to toe even though she couldn’t see her lower half, but she was wearing a gold lamé turban.

  Pearl was also not alone.

  Henry Gagnon was with her.

  This did not alarm Luci. She knew Henry well. He was one of the best photographers working in fashion, or anywhere. She’d done dozens of shoots with him over the years and immensely enjoyed working with him.

  He didn’t only do fashion and celebrity layouts, or portraits of Nobel prize winners and Secretaries of State, but also the results of drought-stricken nations, starving children, or war-torn urban landscapes.

  He was not only talented, he was wealthy, in demand, outrageously handsome, charming, intelligent and witty.

  Further, he was “officially” single, but even so, everyone in the life knew he was head over heels in love with Josephine, his personal assistant, who returned that affection with quiet dignity. Although none of their set fully understood why those two, together for years, didn’t make it official. However, it might have something to do with the fact that they both were known to stray (Henry especially).

  Even so, they always came back home.

  As Pearl gestured to her with a lavishly adorned hand to join them, Henry twisted in his seat to smile his impeccable smile at her.

  Luci felt her face get soft.

  She also felt relief.

  With Henry there, perhaps (and that was a big perhaps), Pearl would not do whatever she was going to do to set Luci straight, something Luci was certain she intended to try to do.

  She made her way to their table and bent to Pearl to touch each cheek in turn and give her greeting before she turned to Henry, who’d stood and was now smiling down at her from close proximity.

  And looking into his handsome face, she not only wished he wasn’t in love with Josephine, she wished that she was one of those women who liked the kind of men who made up their part of that circle of her life.

  That would be so much easier.

  But no.

  She liked them no-nonsense. Even rough. Frank to the point of blunt. Honest. Also assertive, almost aggressive.

  Alpha.

  And if they could talk about a good beer like other men talked about good wine, wore baseball hats—forward or backward, she didn’t care—and loved their trucks more than anything (outside their women), all the better.

  Like Travis.

  Like Hap.

  Henry put a hand to her waist and bent to her.

  She put both her hands to his biceps, tipped her head back, and he kissed her cheek before he murmured into her ear, “Luci. Always a masterpiece.”

  She pulled away to catch his gaze, but didn’t drop her hands when she replied, “Henry, always a charmer.”

  His eyes twinkled and he gave her waist a squeeze. She took that cue and moved away. He held her chair out for her (she wondered if Hap was the kind of man who would do that, and then she forced herself to stop wondering). She sat, he helped her toward the table and only then resumed his seat.

  Luci had barely gotten her napkin on her lap before Pearl announced, “You two make a gorgeous couple. Normally I don’t like a man and a woman together who have the same color hair. But you two are delicious together.”

  Luci turned big eyes to Pearl at the same time she heard Henry sigh.

  Everyone knew about Josephine. Everyone. And if they were on a break, or whatever it was that meant they turned to others (Luci could not understand it, if you loved someone, the operative part of that word was one), Henry or Josephine made their selections. No one set them up.

  Pearl ignored Luci’s big eyes and carried on.

  “Then again, I learned the hard way that everyone’s hair turns the same shade in the end,” she flipped out both hands, “so it’s no big whoop.”

  Luci shot her a look then turned to Henry and asked pointedly, “How’s Josephine? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  Henry reached to his lowball glass, and if her memory was correct, in it was an old fashioned.

  He did this speaking.

  And what he said shocked her.

  It also made the relief she’d felt earlier march right out the door.

  “I presume she’s perfectly fine, even happy, as she’s married to a former boxer and living in the tiny Maine town where she grew up.”

  Now Luci was blinking at Henry.

  Josephine lived in a tiny Maine town and was not as she always was: wherever Henry was.

  She was married to someone else.

  Henry was now officially, and in all other ways, single?

  “I’m . . . sorry?” she queried.

  Henry took a sip and turned his eyes toward her as he replaced his glass on the table. “Josephine married a man named Jake Spear, quit her job with me, and they live in the house her grandmother left her in Maine. I believe she also officially adopted his youngest son.”

  Josephine had quit Henry.

  How could that be?

  He was the talent, the eye behind the lens.

  But she was the woman behind the man, and as far as Luci knew, it had been that way for decades.

  She was also his muse. Everyone knew that as well. If he wasn’t taking pictures of a model or an orphan, his lens was trained on her.

  And now she was married to a . . . a . . .

  Boxer?

  That was so not Josephine.

  “Oh Henry,” she whispered, “I had no idea. I—”

  He shook his head and interrupted her. “I do believe, sweetheart, that you know even better than me that you don’t waste life, you absolutely don’t waste love, but most of all, you don’t waste time. I did all of that with Josephine. And now she’s happy, married to another man, and raising a son.”

  Oh yes.

  Very much yes.

  She’d learned all of that.

  Luci reached out a hand to capture and squeeze his just as Pearl ordered, “She’ll have a Bellini and she’ll be selecting her food soon so don’t waste time coming back.”

  Luci turned her head to watch a waiter scurry away then watch Pearl wave toward the menu sitting on her plate to urge her to peruse.

  “Speaking of not wasting time,” she continued, “I have a lot less of it than you do and
although I’d rather not sleep it away, my body has other ideas. So if I’m not in bed by ten, I’ll be no good to anyone and Henry is shooting me tomorrow for . . .” She looked to Henry. “What’s it for?”

  Henry opened his mouth to answer but Pearl kept talking.

  “Whatever it’s for, so the train has left the station on anything resembling beauty sleep for me. I still don’t want to be dragging my behind around all day tomorrow when I need to be even more fabulous than my normal fabulous and emote that for a camera. So, let’s order. Then we can focus on catching up.”

  Dutifully, Luci picked up her menu, not surprised Pearl had a photo shoot with Henry on her schedule.

  Long ago, Pearl’s husband, Nicolas, had been an up-and-coming fashion designer, gaining popularity and clients due to his extraordinary work in some small but notable, due to their costume design, films in Hollywood.

  Then there would come the day when he was doing an advertising shoot and someone on his team hired a young, flamboyant, opinionated woman who had, at the time, wanted to be a photographer, but who was, at the time, hired to be a set assistant.

  Nicolas Bazer had been a genius, but he’d also been shy. He detested the limelight and most social functions unless they were private functions given for close friends at his home.

  The woman who he would fall in love with was the exact opposite.

  She came to be the face and spokesperson of his label. She would also learn that her talents lay in set design and production, not photography, and she not only became her husband’s Creative Director, but also collaborated with giant names in the industry, as well as getting involved in a number of films over decades that had been shot in the city.

  Last, the Bazers were renown for throwing lavish parties after his shows, or just whenever the spirit moved them, be it in their home or in some fabulous location somewhere in New York City, with Nicolas the quiet, enchanting host and Pearl the outrageous, and outrageously dressed, hostess.

  With her style, her manner, and it was not to be missed, her heart, and most assuredly her talent, Pearl had earned respect and then fame in her own right, to the point she’d become an icon.

  Nicolas had died three years ago.

  And it was not once, but many times after Travis had died that Luci had thought about Pearl’s loss and tried to find the source in her own heart and mind that Pearl had somehow found in order to carry on after being with her husband for over sixty years.

  Perhaps you should listen to what the woman has to say, she thought.

  This would be wise. Her father, if he was there, would likely tell her the same, but of course, he’d say it in Italian, not just the language, but Italian in spirit with the forcefulness behind it.

  But doing this would be dangerous.

  Then again, honesty and wisdom often held danger.

  It was only those who risked listening to the wise who learned to be the same.

  She scanned the menu, made her selection and set it aside just as the Bellini was set in front of her.

  “Fabulous! Let’s order,” Pearl announced.

  Luci sipped and ordered something with white truffles, not because Pearl would disapprove if she didn’t, but because, well . . . white truffles.

  No other words needed.

  The waiter scurried off and Pearl instantly leaned into the table, looking at Luci but addressing Henry, “No offense, hon, but we’ve already had our chat so you know my feelings about how you royally screwed things up with Josephine.”

  Luci bit back a gasp as Henry sighed, “Yes, Pearl, we’ve had our chat,” in a manner that explicitly shared that chat had not been enjoyable.

  “Now,” she wagged a finger at Luci, ignoring Henry’s manner, and Henry on the whole, “you’re on the hot seat.”

  Suddenly, Luci wasn’t in the mood to learn to be wise and definitely not in the mood for honesty.

  She reached for her drink, murmuring, “I’d prefer simply to catch up and not be on any hot seat.”

  “I’m sure you would, though you knew that wasn’t going to happen before you arrived, so just sit back and experience the moment, sister,” Pearl retorted, sitting back herself (or more aptly, settling in).

  After taking a sip, she trained her eyes on Pearl. “You know, you shouldn’t be so dismissive of Henry’s situation. He and Josephine were together for ages. I can imagine that he’s—”

  “Google Jake Spear,” Pearl commanded. “I did. There were a number of celebrities at the wedding, pictures all over social media. But also pictures when he was a professional athlete. When you see him, you’ll get it.”

  Henry sighed again.

  But Luci was curious.

  She didn’t share that.

  “I still think—” she began.

  “He never made his move,” Pearl announced, and Luci felt her eyes get big again.

  Unable to stop them, slowly, they moved to Henry.

  “I thought you were lovers,” she noted.

  “I do believe I’ve made my point about wasting time,” Henry drawled.

  Mio Dio, she thought.

  “Oh Henry, caro, I’m now very sorry for you,” she said softly.

  He simply tipped the drink he was holding her way.

  Then he put it to his lips and drained it.

  “So you,” Pearl butted in, and Luci looked her way again. “I’ll warn you, my girl, I’m going to be blunt. And I’ll start that by saying, we all loved Travis. You know I know how difficult it is to lose the man who was put on this earth for you. My heart was in tatters when I heard you lost him. So young. It defies belief and gives new meaning to the concept of unfair. But yekirati, for you, the show is going on and you must go on with it.”

  “I’ve come to terms with Travis’s death, Pearl,” Luci told her.

  Pearl didn’t believe a word she said and didn’t only express that with her face, but with words.

  “So why, precisely, were you a million miles away when you had a beautiful shoe on your foot and a dozen boxes of the same surrounding you?” Pearl demanded.

  “Because I’ve met someone else.”

  Pearl’s chin lifted slightly, and she murmured, “I see.”

  “But he won’t have me,” Luci went on.

  Henry made a choking noise.

  Pearl’s already magnified eyes behind her glasses took up her face.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “He won’t have me,” Luci repeated.

  Pearl leaned forward. “For goodness sakes, why?”

  “He’s one of Travis’s dearest friends.”

  Henry made a low noise of male understanding while Pearl’s wrinkles rearranged themselves into supreme annoyance.

  She aimed her glare at Henry.

  “So you approve of this nonsense?” she queried.

  “Approve? No. Understand? Yes,” Henry answered.

  “Then please,” Pearl threw out both hands, palms up, and spread them wide to indicate the table, “educate us.”

  “That would be impossible for me to do without offending you both greatly,” Henry replied.

  “Because we’re too dim to understand?” Pearl asked.

  “Because it’s a piss around your property issue that a woman simply cannot comprehend, mostly because it’s ridiculously stupid,” Henry returned.

  Pearl was mollified by this and shared it by reaching toward her Bellini and taking only a half-still-annoyed sip.

  But Luci turned her attention to Henry.

  “You think it’s ridiculously stupid?”

  He nodded. “As a philosophy, yes. Logically, it makes no sense. Emotionally, if, to try to find a like comparison, I had not foolishly thrown away any chance I had to win the only woman I’ve ever loved, and we had wed and built a life together, and we found ourselves at that time where we discussed the tragic and hopefully very unlikely event that one of us should pass before the other, in the prime of our lives, or whenever, I would find it very difficult to say with any
authenticity that I would be fine with the idea of another man with Josephine.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Pearl snapped. “Not to mention selfish.”

  “I said with any authenticity, Pearl,” Henry stated soothingly. “Of course I would want her to move on. I would want her to find happiness again. Of course. Logically. Because I love her and I would not want her ever to be unhappy. But would it make me happy in the slightest to think of her with another man? Not a chance. A nightmare, I’ll remind you, I’m living right now in another way, but I’m still living it. Make that man a friend? I’d be infuriated and feel betrayed just by the thought.”

  “That’s preposterous and selfish too,” Pearl retorted.

  “Nevertheless,” Henry said, catching the eyes of the waiter and lifting his chin before he tipped his head to his empty glass then flicked his hand to indicate he wanted the table to have another round, “it’s true.” He returned his attention to Pearl. “And I’m here because you like me. You like annoying me. You like beguiling me. You enjoy making me laugh and entertaining me. But you didn’t call two hours ago to invite me to dinner for any of that. Nor did you do it to set me up with Luciana. You did it so I could state the facts for my gender.”

  “I also like looking at you,” Pearl huffed, and Henry grinned.

  So did Luci.

  She also took another sip of her drink.

  It was very Henry to be certain they all had their drinks refreshed, he was a gentleman like that in all ways. And later, even if he’d been invited, he would argue with Luci and Pearl (and then when Luci bowed out due to politeness, just with Pearl) about who would pay the check.

  But Luci was also glad he did it because she had a feeling she was going to need another drink before this was all over.

  “Well then, onward,” Pearl declared as Luci put her glass back to the table. “If this man is fool enough not to accept your affection, Luci, then find another.”

  “I don’t want another.”

  She had not intended to say that.

  However, she did, and she felt both their focus after she did.

  “So, you’re emotionally involved with him?” Henry asked quietly.