Silence. A blob of nervousness crawls up my spine. I realize his question was directed toward me. “What?”
“Jess informs me Eric might be moving in,” he says into his coffee cup before taking a sip.
“Moving in?”
“Moving in,” Eric replies.
“What do you mean moving in?”
“Moving in with us,” Jess says. “As in living with us.”
A ping of angst stabs at my chest.
Eric gnaws on a piece of bacon. “Is that a problem for you, Sophie?”
“Why would it be a problem for me?” I defy, shooting self-assured eyes back at him.
“We’re still trying to work it out, you know, the kinks and all. As long as this is okay with you, Sophie,” Jess explains halfway through her yogurt.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s already moving in with Oliver,” Eric notifies straightaway.
“Excuse me. I am not. He was just joking.”
“He’s not,” says Jess. “We discussed this while you were in the shower.”
“You think I would joke about this?” Oliver asks me. “There is plenty of room at my place. You can come live with me and Jess and Eric could use your room. I’m certain they can put it to good use.”
I stare into the distance, as still as a mannequin. I daze off for a minute and place my hands on the counter top. Cue the million questions—he wants me to live with him? Is he doing this to make me stay away from Eric? Will I pay rent? What will my aunt say?
He leans forward and looks at me sternly, making it clear that he is indeed being serious. I like this situation less and less. It has me incredibly anxious. Oliver doesn’t even blink. I look at Jess and Eric for some kind of salvation, but they quickly slide their ways back to Jess’s room.
Silence again.
“I’m not giving this any thought,” I say, refusing to be intimidated.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s unbelievable. There’s so much we don’t even know about each other. I don’t even think you’ve—”
He places his fingertips over my lips. “What is it that you find so unbelievable? It is no secret that I want you, Sophie. Not once have I tried to hide it. And since I do, I wish that you would move in with me as soon as possible. Is that convincing enough for you?”
A long sigh slips from my mouth. “Let’s just pretend I’m a fool and that I might consider this. For how long?”
“For as long as you like.”
“I’m a terrible roommate. Ask Jess. She’ll tell you.”
“Who are you trying to convince—me or yourself? I don’t want or need a roommate. I want you. Think about it and let me know.”
“Why is it always up to me?”
He chuckles. “If it were up to me, you’d already be living with me.”
“You think everything is possible don’t you? You want something you get it. You get it and you want something more. Something else. Something different. Well, let me tell you, it doesn’t always work out. We don’t always get what we want.”
“Oh, I believe we do.”
I take a few steps forward and stand within inches of his face. “I really hope this isn’t about money.”
“Money?”
“Well, since you think you can have anything, and I am currently not so well endowed in that department.”
For some reason, he breathes like I’ve touched a soft nerve. “When I was a kid...for my birthday, I asked my father for a toy train. Instead, he gave me a pen. He said I should use it well. I wasn’t sure what he meant, I was only ten.”
“He gave you a pen?”
“Yes, a black fountain pen. I was so upset over not getting what I wanted. One day, my father and I were sitting on a bench at the park, eating a couple of hot dogs, when I asked him why he had given me a pen. I waved it out for him to see. He said, ‘Son, life will sometimes fail to give us what we want, but that is not reason enough to stop trying.’”
“Your father sounds like a smart man.”
“Strict too. Started treating me like a man when I was a kid. So what did I do? I got up from the bench and told the first person I saw that I had a very special pen in my hand.”
“Oh yeah? What was special about it?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he chuckles. “But this is New York. People will buy anything they can save their money on as opposed to having to buy the real thing.”
“You Judas,” I accused. “You tricked that person. How did you do it? Don’t tell me it was your good looks.”
“What can I say? Some people are susceptible to little kids with pens. Besides, anything can be sold with the right presentation,” he says. “I saw the opportunity and I seized it.”
“So what happened? Did you buy the toy train in the end?”
“That measly toy? Christ no. I had learned something far greater than buying a toy train. I could have anything I wanted with the right tenacity. I had greater things to do, to be.” He comes closer toward me until he is pulling me into a dominant embrace. “Sophie, you are what I want and you are what is missing.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Oliver, I’m right here.” I trace his lips with mine softly. “With you.” My fingers drag beneath his lower lip. “Because that’s what I want.”
“Good, so you will give it thought.”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me know your decision. I have work I need to take care of.”
“Work? On a Sunday? Last I checked, you are not a priest, or a minister, or a monk, or a—”
“Sophie, I could perform complex calculations in my head before I even learned to ride a bike. I met the President of the United States at the age of eleven simply because he wanted to meet me. I could speak English, Spanish, German, Italian, and French before my fifteenth birthday. I’m a serial entrepreneur with a passion for the finer things in life. Men like me don’t stop.”
It is everything about him that makes him arrogant. “Men like you? Don’t tell me there are others?”
“No. There aren’t. This is why I can’t stop. No one can do what I can do.”
I scoff and flick my hair back. “That’s absurd. There isn’t just one thing of something important in the whole world. I’m pretty sure God, in his successful attempt to create a population, made a lot of people who would succeed in the same professions. I’m also pretty sure someone can do what you can do.”
“I may not be indispensable, but I am damn useful. If I were to fall off the face of the earth tomorrow many would be at risk. Many would meet their demise. Many would suffer.” He walks forward until I believe he is about to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He grabs his cellphone next to me and backs off. “Please let me know your decision.”
***
IT’S A VERY chilly morning in Central Park and Aunt Peg and I have been walking and walking, thinking and thinking. The latter I’m doing all on my own. Today might be a good day to seek a fortuneteller to guarantee that I’ll make the right decision. The right decision should be clear to me, I either want to live with Oliver or I don’t, but the truth is, too many uncertainties and questions are whirling around in my head. The next thing I know, I’m sharing daily life together with him and bringing everything I have, from dirty laundry to annoying eating habits, and that is wholly and downright overwhelming.
Aunt Peg is merely listening, half keeping an eye on Lily and Gracie as they run restlessly beside a stray pup she and my uncle just got for them. The girls named the dog Jingle Bells. He’s yellow and poofy and poor Jingle is no marathoner; his crooked legs cannot keep up and his tongue hangs out on the side.
I sit on a bench and blurt out, “He wants me to live with him,” midway through gobbling a fatty pretzel. Aunt Peg passes ice cream cones to Lily and Gracie. She says nothing for a while.
She takes a seat alongside me, sips on her Italian soda, and muses over the lot of joggers speedily passing by. “And what is the problem, exactly?”
I reach for a piece
of my pretzel, thinking about the long list of hypothetical problems. “The problem is I don’t know if I should.”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to be with him?”
“Well, yeah, I do. But, what about the whole buying-the-cow-when-you-can-get-the-milk-for-free bit?”
“You, my dear, are not a cow. You are a big girl. You’ve proven so all by yourself, over and over again.”
“Buying groceries and paying rent does not really classify me as being a big girl. I still keep messing up my laundry.”
“You’re a big girl because you’ve been through big things. I’ve seen how far you’ve come, Sophie. I know you as if you were my own daughter and I trust that you will make the right decision.”
I suck in a breath.
“He terrifies me, Aunt Peg.” I don’t have the backbone to say it to her face. “Oliver is such a self-contained person. He’s always so calm, so at ease, so refined. I’m the one who’s always losing my mind over nothing. He is unbelievably amazing in a way I don’t know if I can reciprocate. His voice is calm and patient. It makes me feel like he will sit me down and tell me everything’s going to be okay. And his eyes. Have you seen his eyes? They’re so kind and gentle.”
“This is what you deserve. A good man.”
“This is new for me. Oliver usually knows what he wants. The moment he sees it, he goes after it. He’s so brave. I’m not so used to it.”
“What are you not used to?” she asks. “Going after what you want?”
“Well, I mean how can anyone be sure?”
“Honey, you can’t expect to drive along a road and bump into a sign that says, ‘Here is your sign, go after him.’ You know in your heart what it is you’re supposed to do. I reason Oliver is a fabulous man and he cares for you deeply.”
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this. You, of all people.”
“What I’m doing is encouraging you to step forward and go after what you want. Remember, don’t let anyone interfere in your decision making because, in the end, you are the only one who will face the consequences.”
Reed suddenly appears out of nowhere. “Boss.” I look up. “Mr. Black says he heavily dislikes you not answering your phone.”
“Really? That’s what he said?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all he said?”
“No, boss. He’s on the line for you.”
I reach out for his cellphone and put it to my ear. “Hello, Oliver. I hear you have some complaints concerning the use of my cellphone.”
“As a matter of fact, I have several complaints.”
“And what might your Royal Highness fancy this afternoon?”
“His Highness strongly desires that your Ladyship be chaperoned when promenading in public. In short”—he pauses—“be safe.”
“Chaperoned?” I incline my head. “Is your Royal Highness aware that we are living in the twenty-first century and therefore not in the sixteenth?”
“I am up to speed in the evolutionary history of life, Lady Amelia, but I shall remind you of the perilous conditions you are facing these days.”
“I’ll be going to the insane asylum one of these days, Oliver. You know that?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there to pick you up. Why are you not answering your phone?”
“Desperate much?”
“Tapping my feet on the floor as we speak. Have you thought about my proposition?”
Isn’t there a less perverting way to say it? “Yes, I have. You’ll know soon enough. Is this the reason you called?”
“No, actually I need to talk to you about the photographs you received.”
My stomach clenches. “What about them?”
“Police have discovered new information. Other than your fingerprints, they found a partial print on the photograph. Allegedly female.”
“I’m sure of that, Oliver. Some girl handed me the envelope.”
“She’s a waitress, and she was wearing gloves the day of the yacht party. Her prints don’t match. They talked to the girl already. Julie Stevens. Trust me, it wasn’t her.”
“Then who was it?”
“We should go down to the bureau and discuss it further with the police. Check your schedule to see when you’re available to do that.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Say hello to your aunt for me.”
EIGHTEEN
THE TELEPHONE RINGS. I ignore it. I stay impeccably still on the sofa, a carton of fried noodles in hand, watching Shark Tank on TV.
“Answer the phone!” Jess shouts from the bathroom.
“You answer it!” I counter.
“I’m in the bathroom!”
“And I’m in the middle of something!”
I let it ring and ring and ring just in case the caller decides to hang up, but he or she is insistent. Reluctantly, I go into the kitchen and pick up the phone.
The first thing I hear is “Cavall.” Kim’s voice is quick and sharp.
I draw the phone away from my ear for a second. “What’s up?”
“I’m calling to let you know you’ll be heading to Malibu first thing tomorrow. Well done. You’re up for Herve Leger swimwear. I emailed you the details. Good night.”
“Did you just say well done?”
“Check your email, Sophie.”
“Did you just call me Sophie?”
A dead tone comes up on the line.
I think about this for a second. I’m relieved I booked a job that will hold me over financially for a month or so. I’m not overjoyed about leaving New York, however. In the end, I don’t protest. I put the phone back in its cradle and go back to my Asian dinner. About to take a bite of a shrimp, the phone rings again.
“Yeah?” I say into the mouthpiece.
“Sophie, tell Jess to pick up her phone.”
At hearing Eric’s voice on the other end, I manage a weak scowl. “Why don’t you tell her yourself?”
“Fine. Put her on the line.”
I groan out in irritation and trail off to look for Jess. About to knock on the bathroom door, I hear all sorts of loud tinkering and clanking inside and I hang up the phone. I think about opening the door, stepping in, and putting an explanation to the noise. I hesitate at the door at first, breathe, close my eyes, and think back. Should I open it or not? I have no clue of what is waiting for me on the other side. I grab the doorknob, twist it, and fling the door open so quickly I smack Jess and knock her down to the floor.
I freeze, not believing my eyes.
“What...,” I stammer.
“Oh my God! Get out, Sophie! Get out,” she screams, covering her half-naked body with whatever is closest to her. Her face is gaunt and pale. Her hair looks unhealthy. Her skin is papery. My shock isn’t that she’s baring so much of her body, or that her bones are sticking out, but rather the spots of purple and yellow that are showing. There must be about a dozen of those across her arms, chest, back, and legs.
All color leaves my face. “Jess, who did this to you?”
“Nobody! It’s nothing! It’s not your problem!”
“Not my problem? You’re covered in bruises! It’s a problem, Jess! Did Eric do this to you?”
“No! Of course not! How can you think that? I said get out!”
She forcefully pushes me back until I’m out of the bathroom. The door is shut in my face. I turn around mutely and retreat to my room. There, I slide down the wall and put my hands to my head. I have absolutely no idea what to do.
***
THE MORNING BRINGS back the reality of the night before. My shoulders feel like they’re carrying an invisible burden of some sort as I hobble out of my room and see Jess in the living room, sweeping up the hardwood floors with a broom.
“Jess.”
She gives a light, silly laugh, putting her hand to her chest. “You scared me. I didn’t see you there.”
She’s wearing plas
tic booties and yellow pants that cover most of her skin, and I don’t necessarily think it’s for the sake of the unfriendly weather. I look at her questioningly. “What are you doing? The sun’s not even up yet.”
“Yeah, but the floors were looking catastrophic. I couldn’t walk around barefoot without something sticking to my feet. Something had to be done.” She takes off her rubber gloves and leans her arm on the broom handle. “I was thinking I could get a Roomba for living room duty, at least. What do you think?”
“Like a robot vacuum?”
“Exactly like a robot vacuum! My mother swears by her Roomba. I have to give it a try.”
“All right. Sounds good.”
She looks at my suitcase, then at my face. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Oh, yeah. I have a photo shoot. I’m flying to California to get it done. I’m not sure when I’ll be coming back.”
“But...,” she pauses, “you are coming back, right?”
“Yes, it’s just a couple of days, I’m assuming.”
“Oh, okay,” she replies. “Well, good luck over there. I’m going to the market after school. We’re out of milk and detergent. You need anything? You want me to get you those puddings you like?”
I nod at that. A soft smile forms about my lips, but it doesn’t last long. What are we doing? is the thought that comes to my mind. Are we having a real talk about what actually matters or are we turning a blind eye?
I think of telling her that I didn’t sleep a wink. I think of asking her about the stomach-turning bruises on her body, but my heart twinges. Maybe it’s nothing, I tell myself. But if it is indeed something, what will I do? What will I say?
“Are you okay?” I ask, although her expression already gives me the answer.
She casts her sad eyes on me for a moment, on the verge of telling me something, but then she turns her head away. “Of course I am!” she says and goes back to sweeping the floors.
I want to reach out and hug her and while I’m there, shake some answers out of her, but Jess is holding onto her control by the thinnest of threads, so for now, I abstain.
I walk out of my apartment building, weary, unsettled, and with something that looks like a last minute, thrown-together suitcase. Kim and Reed are waiting for me in the car. Kim’s mouth is temporarily busy with a burger as I get inside, so I sit back and drift off into Sophie land. That is when she hands over a manila folder. She says it’s my new contract.
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