When Fates Collide

by Isabelle Richards

  “Thanks, Dad. You always say the sweetest things.” I put my lip gloss in my clutch. “My best friend’s in town, and we’re going out. I’m twenty-six, and I’ve been living like I’m forty. Actually, I think most forty-year-olds probably live a more exciting lifestyle than I do. I deserve a little fun, right?”

  “Sure, Slugger. You deserve all the fun you can muster. Just don’t conjure up the wrong kind of fun. You’re spoken for, don’t forget.”

  I stop at the mirror in the hallway and try to tame a fly-away lock of hair. “Catching a few male glances’ll help my ego and won’t cause any harm. So chill!”

  He snorts. “Oh, you’re gonna catch some glances, all right.”

  My phone dings, alerting me to a text. I dig my phone out of my clutch before crossing the room to kiss him on the cheek. “Em’s downstairs. I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up.”

  He looks disappointed. “She isn’t coming up? I was hoping to meet the mysterious Em. Are you coming back here after?”

  I wipe my gloss off his cheek with my thumb. “Not tonight. You’ll meet her another time, after we move into the new place.”

  “First of all, Sabrina and I’ll work it out. As much as you want me to, I ain’t movin’ in with you. Second, bring your pepper spray and text me when you get to her hotel.”

  I give him my best teenage-girl eye roll and hair flip combo move. “Whatevs on both counts. Good night!”

  Before I can fully open the door, Max bolts across the room and slams it closed again.

  “Damn, who knew you could move that fast?”

  “Lily, I’m serious. You need to change.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick picture. “Don’t make me send this to Greene and Sully. One look at this picture, and they’ll have the whole FBI out after you. Should make for a fun evening. You, Em, and thirty guys in cheap suits watching you like a hawk. Change.”

  I reach for the door knob again. “No.”

  He gently grabs my wrist, preventing me from turning the knob. “Don’t push me, Slugger. I push back harder.”

  I stomp my foot as I let go of the door. “Fine, I’ll text you from each place I go, and I’ll call you when we get to her hotel. Okay? Call off SWAT.”

  Before he can answer, there’s a knock at the door, and Max gently hip-checks me out of the way to open it. “Wow. Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I open the door again?”

  Em stares down her nose at him as she walks past. “Does that line ever work?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me?” He takes Em’s hand and kisses it. “You must be Emily,” he says in a voice I’m sure he thinks makes him sound cool.

  “Guilty as charged. You must be Boston Max.”

  “Never been called that before, but hey, I like nicknames given to me by pretty women. How—?”

  “What in the hell are you wearing?” Em shrieks as she pushes Max out of the way. “I said get gussied up not hussied up.” She drags me by my arm into my room. “Get in here. What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to look like a hooker?”

  “That bad? I’m not going for slut. Just trying to show a little leg,” I say.

  She slams the bedroom door. “You look like you’re trying too hard. Where did you even get that skirt? Can you call that a skirt?”

  “Slugger, I think I’ve found my soul mate,” Max shouts from the living room.

  “Yeah, you two are quite the pair!” I yell back.

  When did I inherit so many parents? I’ve been parentless since I was thirteen, now I seem to have them coming out of the woodwork.

  Twenty minutes later, Em’s picked out an outfit she finds suitable, and I’m dressed in something that’s not from the hooker chic collection. I’ve been running my ass off for weeks, so I’d wanted to show off my killer legs, but I suppose I don’t need to look like a tramp to do it. Clubbing attire has never been my strong suit. It’s hard to find that perfect middle ground between saintly, sexy, and slutty. I often end up either too conservative or too risqué.

  When we finally leave the bedroom, Max gives me the universal signal to spin around. I oblige and give him my best catwalk, which I’m sure makes me look ridiculous. It sets the two of them into giggle fits.

  “Get dressed, Boston. You’re coming with us,” Em says. This is so out of character for her that I wonder if I’ve heard her right. Men typically have to work very hard to get an Emily invitation.

  Once Max has thrown on a new outfit, the three of us head out to SAX. I’ve never been before, but I’ve seen plenty of Ashton’s receipts for the place. It’s a burlesque club of sorts, very Moulin Rouge. As we walk in and look around, I say, “I get why Ash spent so much time here.”

  “What? Cocksucker came here?” Em asks. She takes her hand off the railing and looks at it as though she’s been contaminated. “Suddenly, I want to leave. How often do you think they sanitize this place?”

  “Perfect,” Max says. “I can tell Sabrina this was all research on the Preston case. We’re still trying to track down Ash’s secret hiding place. I’m not just going to a club where the staff struts around in lingerie. I’m following a lead.”

  “Want me to check your purse there, Maxine? ‘Cause I really don’t do the whole sappy ‘What’ll my girlfriend think?’ stuff. Man up, pick up your skirt, and come drink, or cart your ass back home,” Em says as she walks authoritatively down to our reserved area.

  Max watches her go and says, “I seriously think I’m in love, Slugger. That woman… Wow.”

  I link my arm through his as we follow Em. “Be careful, Max. Em’s a man-eater. She’ll chew you up and spit you out without thinking twice. She doesn’t do boyfriends. She doesn’t do commitment. And she really doesn’t do love.”

  “She might be the perfect woman,” he says in a dreamy voice.

  We drink and laugh and then drink some more. Tonight has turned out to be just what I needed.

  Em points at me and looks at me with one eye closed. “You seem like you are getting your groove back, but something just isn’t right,” Em says.

  “Yeah, I know,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m trying to get my life together. The work part is great. The blog is taking off like wildfire. It’s all thanks to you, Em. Since you started pimping it, my blog has just exploded. I have like twenty thousand followers. Last week, the actress that’s in that new rom-com started following, and she’s been reposting and tweeting about it. Yesterday, a woman on Good Morning America started following. It’s just taken on a life of its own!”

  Em holds up her shot glass with one hand and flips me off with the other. “Here’s to my brilliant idea. Fuck you for doubting me.”

  I flip her off in return. “I’m sorry for doubting you,” I reply.

  “So, that’s work,” she says. “What about you? What are you doing for you?’

  “I’m trying to figure that out, but it just isn’t going anywhere. I’m running every day, burning off all that pent up sexual energy. To be honest, with Gavin having a body like he does, I’m bit self-conscious. So it makes me want to run more. I’m getting toned in all sorts of places, which is awesome. I’ve taken up painting, which I’ve wanted to do for years. And I take a bikram yoga class too.”

  “Yeah, and?” Em asks. “Why do you still sound… I don’t know… Bored? Unfulfilled?”

  I fiddle with the straw in my empty water glass. “As it turns out, I can’t paint.”

  Max scoffs. “Oh, that’s an understatement. I keep waiting for them to offer her money back to stop coming to class.”

  I reach my arm around his neck and give him a noogie. “That’s why I love you. No sugarcoating here.”

  He pulls away and gives me one back. I’m sure it does wonders for my hair.

  “Children, knock it off,” Em says sternly.

  Max and I pull apart, looking like scolded school children.

  “Now, continue,” she commands me.

  “As far as the yoga goes, I know I should love it, f
eel more connected and Zen. All I feel is hot and bored. It’s just not doing it for me.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says in a voice that’s dripping with pity. “There’s no mystery there. You just need to get laid.”

  I take a sip of my martini and sigh. “I know.”

  “Well, don’t give up. I’ll figure out how to get a little more pep in your step. You’re coming to Boston soon. Then you move, and I’ll come down to help decorate,” Em says. “We’ll have fun.”

  “Max, is the furniture in your room yours or Mer’s?” I ask. “Just trying to figure out if I need to buy for that room or not.”

  “I told you, I’m moving in with my girlfriend!” he whines.

  Em and I both crack up. Even she can see that it’s a lost cause.

  “Speaking of Meredith,” Em says. “Explain to me how an FBI agent can afford that condo. I looked it up. It costs a pretty penny.”

  “It’s Mer’s parents’ place,” Max explains. “Her dad was some hotshot lawyer, and this was their DC apartment. They retired and moved to Arizona, but they’ve been keeping the place here for her. Now that she’s been transferred, they’re happy to get rid of it. The condo fees are a nightmare.”

  “Ahh,” say Em and I in unison.

  I slap the table. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m going to run to the ladies’,” I say as I get up. “Max, Em loves guns just about as much as you do. That should give you plenty to talk about while I’m gone.”

  I’ve had quite a bit to drink and have to concentrate on walking so I don’t fall flat on my face, but I make it without incident.

  As I come out of the restroom, I walk smack into one of the club’s dancers, stepping on her foot. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Clearly, I’ve had one too many. Are you ok?” How embarrassing!

  She’s stunningly exotic. Dark skin and almond-shaped eyes that are so dark they look black. Her waist-length black hair is so shiny she belongs in a shampoo commercial. “Not the first time or the last time tonight my foot will get stepped on. You get used to it,” she says politely.

  “Occupational hazard, I guess? Again, I’m really sorry.” I smile and try to step around her without breaking any toes.

  She grabs my elbow. “Lily, wait.”

  I stop in my tracks and stare at her. “How do you know my name?”

  “You’re Ash’s wife, right?”

  I pull my arm back. “I didn’t expect he spoke of me when he came here. Yeah, I was his wife. You know he’s dead, right?” I have no desire to sugarcoat it for her.

  “I heard. I’m sorry. He was a decent guy.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “No, he wasn’t,” I snap back at her.

  “You’re right. He wasn’t. I was just trying to be nice,” she replies, looking at the floor.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me.” I want out of this conversation. Now.

  I try again to walk past her, but she continues to block my exit. “Are you here looking for Crystal?” she asks.

  “Lady, I have no idea who Crystal is, and I don’t want to know. I didn’t come here looking for anything but a fun night out with my friends. I didn’t even pick this place! My imagination has been working overtime from the second I walked in the door, picturing all the things and women Ash got into while he was here. I’ve been trying to block it out because that asshole isn’t worth one more second of my time. Whoever Crystal is, I’m sure she and Ash had something real special, but I don’t give a shit. He’s not my problem anymore.” I storm off, praying she doesn’t come after me.

  When I get back to the table, I try to act as calm as possible. I’m sure if Em heard about the exchange, she’d probably find this Crystal and gouge her eyes out with her stilettos.

  Em looks at her watch, and informs us it’s close to one in the morning. “Pumpkin time, everyone. I’ve got to talk to undergrads in a few hours.” She claps her hands. “Up, up! Let’s go.”

  We stumble our way to the exit, and Em asks the valet to hail two cabs. “You two’re going home, and I’m taking my suite for myself.” She turns my face in her direction. “And you! You go home, wake the Brit up, and have some nasty phone sex. It’ll do you good.”

  As she hops in her cab, she calls out, “See you next week, Lil. Please bring better clothing options than the ones I saw today. Boston, it’s been a real slice. Take care of my girl.” She blows kisses out the window as the cab drives away.

  He looks longingly after her cab. “I’m totally in love.”

  Max and I decide to walk home as it isn’t too far away. After my encounter, I’m riled up, and the walk should do me good. Max keeps me laughing the whole way, and slowly the memory of that wretched woman fades away. By the time we get home, I’m calm and fairly sober. As we walk in the door, I kiss Max on the cheek.

  “Thanks for being so awesome, Max. Sabrina doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

  He laughs. “You really don’t think she’s going to take me back?”

  I lean against the wall as I unbuckle my sandals. “She can’t unsee the video of you going down on another girl. I know you say you had to as part of your undercover stuff, but she saw it. I’m sure the image is burned into her brain. If it were me, every time you got close to me, that’s all I would see.”

  He throws his hands up in the air and paces. “She shouldn’t have been going through the case file! She knew nothing good would come of it.”

  “But she did it anyway, and there’s no coming back from that. Unless you give up going undercover, and even then…”

  He scrubs his hands along his five o’clock shadow. “It’s part of my job. It’s not fair that she ask me to give it up.”

  “There’s your answer,” I reply.

  He collapses on the sofa.

  I kiss him on the top of his head on my way to my room. “Good night.”

  Something occurs to me as I reach my door. I turn around and ask, “Why the hell would someone take a video of that anyway? I can’t imagine a scenario where you giving oral sex would be a critical part of a case.”

  “That’s confidential,” he mutters.

  “Sounds like bullshit to me. I’m guessing that’s what Sabrina thinks too.”

  After closing the door, I strip down to my underwear and climb into bed. Using my fingers to count the time difference, I realize it’s almost eight in the morning in London and I may be able to catch Gavin on his way in to the office.

  “Isn’t this a wonderful way to start my day?” he says when he answers.

  I yawn. “I just got in and thought I’d give you a ring.”

  He chuckles. “Max sent me a picture of you in a rather revealing outfit. I figured you were up to no good. ”

  I pull the covers up around me. “Em’s in town. We went to a burlesque bar and drank many, many drinks. Max came with us.”

  “Max got to meet Em, huh? I’m jealous,” he says in a teasing voice, but I suspect he means it. It’s not the first time he’s pointed out that Max carries out all the day-to-day boyfriend duties in his absence. If the roles were reversed, I know I’d be green with jealousy. He hasn’t said anything directly, but I’m guessing that’s the reserved English gentleman in him.

  “Yes,” I respond. “They bonded over their mutual dislike of my outfit.”

  “Your legs look amazing, but as the man in your life, can I veto you wearing it in public? Can you even call that a skirt?”

  “Shut it, Oxford. I’ve heard all I want to about my skirt.” I hear some sort of machinery in the background. “Where are you?”

  Clanging and clattering echo through the phone. “Sorry, luv. I’m in my studio. Let me turn that off.”

  “You have a studio?” How do I not know about this?

  “I haven’t been in here in a while, but since I’ve gotten home, I’ve been inspired.”

  I pull at a stray string on the sheets. “Oh.” I guess being home inspires him.

  “Stop right there, Lily. I can hear those wheels turning in your hea
d. You’re the inspiration, my dear.”

  “Oh,” I say with much more enthusiasm. “You’re lucky you have a creative side. My paintings look like my paints threw up on the canvas. Not in a cool Jackson Pollock way either. Bad motel art is better than what I make.”

  “You just need a good instructor. We’ll paint together one day, and it will be glorious,” he promises.

  “Well, everything is more glorious with you.” Just hearing those words come out of my mouth makes me want to gag they’re so sappy. But I can’t help it. That’s what this man does to me.

  There’s more clanging on his end. It sounds as though he’s putting things away. “Speaking of being with me, what are you doing next Wednesday?” he asks.

  A surge of excitement rushes through me at the thought of getting to see him, until I realize I won’t be in town. “I’ll be in Boston working on an assignment. Are you going to be in DC? Maybe I can find a way to get back.” I grab my laptop off of the desk and boot it up, ready to search for airfare.

  “No, Boston’s perfect. I’m flying to Connecticut for a meeting with the Coast Guard on Wednesday. Can we meet in Boston that night? Will that work with your schedule?”

  “Oxford, this is the best news I’ve heard in ages.” I squeal like a little girl. I hadn’t even realized I could squeal until now. “The conference I’m covering ends on Wednesday. I was going to spend a few days with Em, but she’ll understand.”

  “It’s only for one night. I have to be back in London for a meeting on Friday. But I figured one night was better than nothing,” he says.

  “It’s amazing and just what I need right now.” In so many ways.

  We keep chatting until I get very sleepy.

  “Luv, you’re starting to snore,” he says, waking me up. “I’m going to ring off so you can get some sleep.”

  I wipe some drool from my chin. “I don’t snore!”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  “Shut it, Oxford.”

  “Good night, luv. Sweet dreams.”

  After hanging up, I have a long night of very happy dreams.

  *******

  When I wake up, I’m just too tired to run, so I skip going to the bookstore to work. Before long, Charlie has sent a bunch of panicked emails. He claims he’s worried something happened to me on my run in and wants me to check in. Nothing cools a hot guy down faster than desperation. I think it’s time to cut Charlie loose. The relationship, while good for my ego, isn’t good for my relationship with Gavin. If Gavin had a Charlie, I’d be furious.