Miss Independent, Volumes 1 - 4

by Kiki Leach

  She poked her head out of the bathroom to check the clock again. The more the minutes kept ticking by, the more restless she became. When she heard the door clicking open and then shut, she spit out the toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth as fast as she could with the hotel’s mouthwash.

  “Sheil’s,” Nathan called out as he removed his jacket and thoughtlessly flung it on a chair.

  “You’re home late!” she hollered back. She checked her teeth again to make sure they were as bright as could be, and pinched her cheeks to make her face look more refreshed and less tired.

  Nathan checked out the mail on the table and loosened his tie. “I had to run a few more errands for Mr. Gallagher before I left tonight. The old man wouldn’t let me leave until I got them all finished – you know how he is.” He sorted through parts of the mail that were his and left the rest on the table for Sheila. When she emerged from the bathroom and ran around him like a chicken with her head cut off, Nathan spun around wondering what the hell was going on. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked her.

  “Because I’m going out.” She fell back in a chair near the window and moisturized her freshly shaven legs with Vaseline. “You would know that if you were here on time. Or if you would’ve picked up your phone during one of the many times I tried calling you at work this afternoon.”

  “I was in meetings for the rest of the day after I left Vanessa’s office. I had no way of getting in touch with you after that.”

  “That’s right.” She slammed the jar down beside her and tilted her head while scornfully eyeing him. “How could I forget that you saw her today?” She got up from the chair and went back over to the mirror to comb her hair again, this time, with more force as the anger she felt from earlier began to sink back in.

  “Are we starting this again?”

  “Why not? You said you wanted to discuss it once you got home, so let’s do it.”

  “Alright.” He sighed. “I didn’t go there for any reason other than the fact that I thought that I was helping you out.”

  “And this is where we differ, because I don’t think you went there for that reason at all.” She stopped to look at him as he continued sorting through bills. “I don’t. I think you went there to see her because you couldn’t stand NOT seeing her. You could’ve easily called her on the phone if you were that determined to help me out--”

  “And she would’ve undoubtedly hung up in my face if I had,” he said as he passed her.

  “That’s a risk you should’ve been willing to take if you had to take one at all! It would’ve made more sense and made me feel better because it wouldn’t have proven my point.” She whirled on her heels and watched as he kept his eyes on the wall and unbuttoned his shirt. “You won’t even look at me,” she said under her breath. “Are we ever going to get past this?”

  “Get past what?”

  “You being so damned obsessed with her.”

  “Who said anything about being obsessed?” he asked. “I went there to do you a favor.”

  “A favor that I never asked for and you know damn well why that was, Nathan!”

  “Sheila--”

  “Stop acting like you don’t.”

  “Sheila,” he said again, in a lower and much more demanding voice this time. “I’m exhausted and can’t afford to deal with anymore of this right now.”

  “I’m exhausted too Nathan, of all of this. How are we ever going to make a life for ourselves if you keep going back to the idea of being with her?”

  “How many times do we have to go over this? I chose to marry you, didn’t I? I agreed to move up the wedding date even though I remained completely against it.”

  “You remained against it because you didn’t want it. Maybe I should’ve started questioning why you changed your mind about it in the first place.”

  “I changed my mind about it because I felt it was the right thing to do.”

  “But not because you actually wanted to do it,” she said. He removed his cufflinks and raised the sleeves on his shirt, ignoring her. “Your silence is speaking louder than words ever could.” She turned back to the mirror and combed through her hair again. He headed off to the bathroom and shut the door. But within seconds, it was open again.

  “What the hell is this?” he asked, holding a long, narrow piece of white paper between his fingers. She stared at him in the mirror and quickly realized it was her receipt from the spa that she hadn’t hidden well enough in the trash. “Who the hell pays seventy-five dollars to get their eyebrows waxed?! And two-hundred dollars for some nail polish that’ll probably chip in a few weeks? SIX-hundred dollars for a facial?!” He held the receipt high in the air and shook his head. “Did you use my money on all of this?”

  “Our money, Nathan,” she corrected him. “I used our money to pay for it.”

  “Not your own.”

  “We’re getting married,” she shot back. “What’s yours is mine, remember?”

  “And what’s yours is still in a trust fund.” He sighed, fed up and threw up his hands, palms out. “You wanna go out tonight and have a good time” – he quickly refastened the buttons on his shirt – “I think I’ll do the same damn thing.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t exactly know just yet. I’ll figure it out before I get there.” He left the top button loose and grabbed his jacket. He looked down at the receipt one last time and tossed it onto the bed.

  As he headed to the door, Sheila fell back against the dresser. “I thought you were exhausted?” she asked. “And don’t you have work in the morning?”

  “I do, but it’s amazing. I was almost wiped out before seeing that astronomical amount of a bill and was ready to crawl into bed for the rest of the night. Now, I can’t wait to leave again.” He slammed the door shut; it was so loud it rattled a few pictures on the walls. Sheila didn’t know whether to laugh or cry ugly tears at his being so angry with her. So she stood there for a few moments contemplating. It didn’t take long before she grabbed her own room key and purse and headed out herself; despite the overwhelming feeling of wanting to knee him in the balls, she still hoped that by the time they both returned, things would be cooled down enough between them to forget everything they discussed, including and especially, Vanessa.

  Part Nine

  “You look fantastic,” said William as he hopped out of the back of his town car and met Nikki at her front door. She reached behind her to close and lock it, then glided down the stairs as if she were Cinderella waiting to meet her Prince Charming.

  “How do you like the dress?” She spun around once and he watched it fly up in the wind.

  “I think I like it a lot. My pocketbook may not feel the same way, though,” he joked.

  “Here.” She reached into her purse for his black card and handed it back to him. “Thank you for letting me use it, but I can’t keep it any longer than what I already have.”

  “I’m not asking for it back.”

  “But I’m giving it back.” She shoved it against him. “Here.”

  He eyed her up and down and bobbed his head. “Why don’t we talk about this some more in the car? Come on.” He went to the back door and opened it for her. As she slid in against the cool leather seats, he fell in beside her and gave his driver the address of their destination. Once they took off, she tried slipping the card into one of his pockets, but he pulled out her hand and kissed the back of it. He saw her fresh manicure and rubbed his thumb against the edges of her tips. “You really do look beautiful tonight.”

  “You paid a fortune for it, so I should.”

  He laughed again and looked over at her while rubbing her hand between his. “We’ve been over this before, Nik. You know that it’s not about the money with me, or about how much of it was spent – just as long as I can make you happy. I don’t think money is the root of our relationship or that you’re some kind of trophy to have on my arm and therefore I have to pay for you. But I’m not going to deprive you
of the things that you want because of it.”

  “I never want you to believe that I’m just dating you because you can provide me with so many of those things.”

  “I don’t believe that. I don’t think I could. You didn’t know anything about me when we met at the bank. In fact, you didn’t know anything about me until Vanessa mentioned it to you that night of the restaurant opening. Even after that, you didn’t really seem to care. You gave off the impression that you were more concerned about how I felt about you and Oscar.” He slipped a finger under her chin and turned her face to meet his. “That’s the sign of someone who cares more about me than about my money.” He kissed her cheek and she smiled.

  “Does that mean we’re going someplace tonight where money won’t be needed?”

  “Maybe for the drinks, but not for much else.”

  “Where exactly are you taking me?”

  “On a magic carpet ride,” he responded. She gave him a look, and he chuckled. “There’s a new place that just opened up called Bar Nineteen.”

  “I’ve heard of that, but was told it was hard as hell to get in unless you knew someone who knew someone that could let you in though the back door.”

  “You do know someone. And I can get you in through the front door.” He smiled wide. “A friend of mine is the owner. During the private introduction to the place, I thought it was a nice and pretty laid back kind of atmosphere. But with the public opening just a few weeks ago, I’m sure it’ll be packed to capacity tonight – and everyone who’s anyone will try to get in or be there. If there isn’t anything about it that you like, we can always go someplace else. But I think you’re going to love it there.”

  She took his word for it and hoped for the best as they continued on their way.

  Part Ten

  Vanessa arrived at Adrian’s just a few hours after talking with Maurice on the phone. And having just come from work not long before that, she was in no mood to ‘chit chat’ any further. More or less, she wanted just wanted Adrian to sit back, shut up, and listen to a few things from her in person that she knew had they been said over the phone, wouldn’t have been as effective as she would have liked for them to be.

  She knocked on the door once and it pulled back, revealing him standing there on the other side. He appeared suave in demeanor, resting his arm on the door, his other hand stuffed down inside his back pocket. The tan was fresh, his pants had been pressed and his shirt was clean. It was as if he were auditioning to be a model on the cover of her next issue. He looked her up and down and she became even more aggravated at the thought of being alone in the same room with him. She pondered leaving before he could even manage to string together a few logical words, but knew if she had, things would only get worse for all involved – especially for her – and she wasn’t prepared just yet to deal with the consequences if they had.

  “I have to be honest in saying that despite the phone calls, the messages and flowers, I wasn’t sure if you were really ever going to show up.”

  She placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, so we’re playing that game? Okay, well, now I have to be honest in saying that despite all of those things – all but including threatening to show up at my place of business if I didn’t respond – I puked a few times on the way here, but I’m all good now. If I weren’t, there’s no way in hell I would’ve been able to make it outside of the Manhattan city limits to come and see you. Just remember that the thought of it actually made me physically sick, and that’s no exaggeration.” She pat his shoulder and moved past to step into his apartment. He laughed, captivated by her still biting nature. She swung her purse from one hand to the other and while looking around the room, noticed the extra blanket and pillow on the couch that was most likely meant for someone else who lived with him.

  “We’re alone, if that’s what you were wondering about,” he told her.

  “I wasn’t.”

  He closed the door and walked over. “I had a missed call on my phone earlier. No message. Was it you?” She tore her eyes away from his and cleared her throat; he nodded his head while grinning knowingly. “You want something to drink? Something to eat?”

  “Hell no, I don’t plan to stay long. I just came to tell you to stop contacting me because I’ve been so--” She stopped when she became aware of his array of art that had been scattered throughout, as well as a few of his paintings hanging high up on the walls, one in particular standing out more than the others. She grit her teeth the longer she looked at it, remembering.

  He realized which one had caught her eye the most and stepped closer, pointing. “Van Gough,” he said. She glanced back at him then refocused on the artwork.

  She nodded. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I still have it up in my house. The duplication, obviously, which is something I wouldn’t realize until after you left. If only because my instincts told me so, just like with everything else when it came to you. Too bad I didn’t listen when it mattered.” He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and lowered his head in partial shame. She whirled around to look him in the face, expecting an explanation she knew he wouldn’t give. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t have it checked out the moment you skipped town without it?”

  “I gave it to you, Vanessa, why the hell would I expect it back?”

  “Oh, please,” she snapped.

  He exhaled between his lips, making a sharp whistling sound as he did. “I’m sorry.”

  “No you’re not. You kept the original and gave me the duplicate as a ‘gift’ because you’re a selfish son of a bitch who thought there was a chance you could get more for it at some point if you sold it during an auction or something. I should’ve always known deep down inside who and what you truly were. Hell, maybe I did and just ignored that too. Anyway, I don’t care about it now because it still looks damn good in my living room. It’s just that when I found out what it really was, the sentiment behind it was gone, just like you.”

  He dropped his hands in a defeated motion and moved closer to her. “It’s not as if I went away and never thought of you or what we had. I missed you like hell, V.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well it’s such a damn shame that I can’t say the same about you, A.” She strolled to the other side, visually taking in every piece of furniture in the apartment, or lack thereof.

  He spun on his heel, watching every move she made. He was captivated once again. “Then why are you here to see me? You could’ve left that message instead of hanging up. We could’ve easily done this over the phone.”

  “Easily? In what world would you have left me alone if I had managed to actually talk to you over the phone? Why do you think I had my assistant call you back instead? I knew if you heard my voice, no matter what I said or how, you would’ve read something into it that wasn’t there.”

  “And coming here dispels all of that? Seems to me that the opposite would be true.”

  “Not in this case; not for me.”

  “No?” he asked.

  “No. I wanted you to see my face when I told you to fuck off for good. And I wanted to see yours when you learned that I’m in a relationship now – I’m happy.”

  “I heard about that. Um, that Maurice Livingston kid, right?”

  “He is a grown ass man, and where exactly did you hear this from?”

  He simultaneously rattled his head and lifted his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. Drink?” He went over to his kitchen and began looking around in the cupboards for a small glass.

  “It does matter to me, and like I said before no thank you. Who told you about Maurice?”

  “I read about it in the paper.”

  “Bullshit. There is no story about it in the paper yet and hopefully there won’t be much to say about it when it finally does get out to the media. We’re trying to keep this quiet without so much interference like before.”

  “Like before” – he grabbed a glass from the washing machine and checked it for spots – “wh
en you were having sex with me at the same time you were dating him?” He carelessly removed the glass cork from his cognac and placed it on the counter.

  She tightened her jaw and stomped over to him, slamming her purse down on the table in the corner. “Where the hell do you get off?”

  “Did I hit some kind of nerve--?”

  “I wasn’t dating Maurice at the same time I was having sex with you, asshole. You know damn well that we tried and it didn’t work then.”

  “What makes you think it’ll work now?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m willing to make one hell of an effort this time because God knows my past options have been less than stellar.” Sadness filled his eyes as he stared at her. She overlooked it. “At least he is always trying to be a better person which is more than I could ever say about you and Nathan when it comes to women and relationships.”

  “I treated you well,” he said.

  “Yeah, when you felt like it or when you wanted to get laid.” She paused. He looked over at her in anger but kept what he was thinking to himself. “Look, you weren’t terrible to me but you weren’t great either, so let’s not act like it was some sort of fairytale relationship when we both know that it wasn’t, alright?”

  “Vanessa--”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway, I don’t care anymore. The only reason I’m even still standing here is because I want to know who told you about Maurice.”

  He took a sip of his drink and shrugged as he leaned back on the counter. “Why?”

  “Because it wasn’t their business to tell and whoever it was clearly knows who I am personally and might go blab it around to other people or the papers. It’s not like we’re going all over New York City and shouting it from the rooftops right now.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I told you why it was,” she responded. “The same reason I didn’t announce why we were fucking in your classroom and office. I like to keep my private life private now. I know after the last few weeks that seems damn near impossible, but it’s how I like it and I’m trying.” He wavered, drinking more of his cognac and thinking. “Isn’t it a little early in the evening for that, anyway?”