by Maria Monroe
"Do you mind if I join you?" asks Scarlet, a vague unhappiness suddenly apparent on her face. "I could really use a drink. And some advice."
Advice? What is she talking about?
"Of course," says Michelle smoothly, gesturing at the available seat at our table.
Scarlet slips off her coat and folds it over her lap. She looks at Michelle, then turns to me. "I know this is going to seem weird," she says, "but I need to talk to somebody, and I'm hoping you can help."
"Me?" I squeak. How in the heck I can help Scarlet is a mystery, and she's the last person in the world I want to assist with anything, unless it's pushing her kind and beautiful body off a cliff.
She nods and distractedly twists some of her auburn hair around one of her index fingers. I imagine Julian watching that same gesture, imagine him finding it—and her—irresistible.
Kill me now, I think.
"So, well, you used to be friends with Julian, right? In college?" she asks, her eyes meeting mine.
"Um, yes. We were…friends."
Michelle kicks me under the table, and when I glance at her she winks. I glare at her, then turn back to Scarlet.
"That's what he said. He said you used to hang out with him and his sister a lot. That the three of you spent a lot of time together."
I nod, but I'm surprised. Why didn't Julian tell her we used to date? It was a long time ago, so it seems like a detail he wouldn't have hidden. Unless… My heart picks up, even though it shouldn't. Even though nothing's going on. My entire body is so dependent on thoughts of Julian, and I hate that. It's like I'm under his control even when he's nowhere near.
"So back then," continues Scarlet, "and I know it's a while ago, but back then, did he have girlfriends that he talked about at all?"
"Oh. Um. Not really?"
She nods but waits for me to say more.
I add, "I mean, he kept things casual with girls I think."
"Why?" Michelle asks Scarlet, being her usual nosy self and not bothering to disguise it. "What's going on?"
Scarlet shakes her head, golden strands of her hair catching the light in the bar mirror and shimmering as she does. "I don't know exactly. Things are just…weird lately. We met a few weeks ago when he first moved here. And at first we were pretty much joined at the hip. It's like we couldn't get enough of each other. Sorry. TMI," she adds, blushing.
I seriously want to stab her, maybe with that same toothpick. It would do way more damage to her eye than to my heart.
"Anyway," she continues, "suddenly, maybe a week ago, things changed. He's become really distant. He used to text me all the time, and now he doesn't. He's always busy. And, we're just not as, you know, close anymore. I know with the merger and everything he’s busy and distracted about work, but still…" A pink blush tints her cheeks suddenly, and I can't help hating the fact that she looks pretty even when she's embarrassed.
"Huh," says Michelle, kicking me under the table again. "Perplexing." She puts her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hands in what I know to be an exaggerated display of interest.
"I'm sorry to unload on you two and get all personal." Scarlet drops her eyes to the table, where she idly pushes the rolled up napkin of utensils around. "I don't have anyone to talk to about this really. I'm pretty new to the city too. I only moved here a few months ago, so I was thrilled when I met Julian finally. You both seem friendly. And I thought maybe you'd have some insights because you and Julian used to be friends." She looks at me shyly.
"Yeah. I'm sorry I can't really help." I try to sound genuine, but really? I can't help the fact that a secret thrill passes through me because, coincidentally around the same time Julian and I ran into each other, things cooled off between him and Scarlet. I mean, it probably is just a coincidence. Still, it's something to hold on to, and I'm grasping at straws right now.
"It's OK. I guess I just needed to vent a little. My friend back home says it's probably normal, that all relationships have ups and downs. That's probably all it is."
"Of course," says Michelle, and I have to bite back a laugh when she catches my eyes and rolls her eyes again.
"Enough about me," says Scarlet, a smile suddenly appearing on her gorgeous face. "How about you guys? Are you dating anyone? Lia, Ben Reilly? H-O-T. You are lucky!"
"He is pretty cute," I respond. "We're just… it's casual."
"He's really great. Thanks for letting me cut in at the dance the other night. I love hockey. It was fun to talk to him about his schedule and all that boring stuff." She waves her hand dismissively in the air, but her eyes are shining. If I didn't know better, I'd think she had a big crush on Ben. And I realize it wouldn't bother me one bit if she did, which proves to me, once and for all, that I don't have feelings for him.
"No problem. He's actually meeting us here tonight. He should be here any minute. Look, I'm going to get another drink. Another martini?" I ask Michelle, and she nods. "Anything for you, Scarlet?"
"Oh my gosh, thanks, Lia! I'd love a glass of sauvignon blanc."
I head to the bar, glad to have a chance to get away from sweet Scarlet and her confessions. I do not want to think about her and Julian being intimate, even though I'm glad to hear it's been with less frequency lately.
The bar's getting crowded, and there are a lot of people already waiting to order, so I relax and check my phone. Ben's texted I'm here. Where are you?
I look around and wave when I see him near the door. He pushes his way through the crowd and gives me a hug and a quick kiss on the lips. "Hey, gorgeous," he says.
"Hi, Ben!" I smile up at him, and my expression is genuine. OK, so maybe I'm not in love with Ben, but I can't deny how cute and fun he is, and how contagious it is when he grins. "We've got a table over there," I say, pointing at Michelle and Scarlet. "I'm getting drinks. Meet me there? You want a beer?"
"Yeah. Perfect." He kisses me again, then heads over to the table.
Alone once more, I push my way through the throngs of people to get closer to the bar. Suddenly, a hand grasps my wrist and a low voice whispers in my ear. "Lia. You kissing that prick just now was the worst goddamn thing I've ever seen."
Julian. I whirl around, pulling my wrist from his hand. He's staring down at me, anger flashing in his eyes. That red tie he had on earlier is untied now, hanging loose around his neck, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone. Instead of a smooth face, now he's got evening scruff going on. We're pressed together, people all around us, yet it feels like we're all alone in the bar.
"I can kiss whomever I want," I hiss. "I thought we agreed just this afternoon that what we had was in the past. That we're…" I flutter my hand between the two of us, "we're nothing to each other. Except employer and employee. And it's not a business matter who I'm dating."
"This has nothing to do with business. You know that too, Lia." His fingers touch my hand, then travel up to caress the inside of my wrist, sending shivers of desire through me. How does that happen from a touch so light that it's practically nothing at all?
"I don't…" Words scramble in my head, jumbled up, and it's hard to speak. “I don’t know…”
“Tell me one thing, Lia.”
“What?” I’m surprised he can hear that single word, that whisper that leaves my lips, amidst all the loud noises of the bar around us.
He leans toward me, so his words are a rough caress against my ear. “Tell me you don’t want me, Lia. Tell me you don’t think about being alone with me. Tell me you don’t want to leave this bar right now and have me between your legs. All night long. Tell me no, Lia. And I’ll stop. Forever.”
I’m trembling from desire and confusion, and I want to say yes. Yes, Julian. Let’s leave together right now. But I can’t. “Scarlet,” I finally utter. “Scarlet’s here.”
Julian’s lips brush against my neck briefly as though he didn't hear what I just said. Or didn't care.
"You know, your girlfriend," I continue, mustering the strength to pull away fr
om him.
"Fuck." Julian steps back, running a hand through his hair, his face creased with angst. "This is all sorts of fucked up."
It is. I agree. Instead, though, I force myself to say, "Everything's fine, Julian. I'm with Ben. You're with Scarlet. The work thing? We're both adults, right? The past is the past. We need to forget it and move on."
"But is that really what you want?" His eyes are staring into mine but I feel like he's staring into my mind, like he could actually read my thoughts if he tried hard enough.
When I lie, I'm worried he'll be able to see the truth, so I look away. "Yes," I say. "I need to move on. Fresh start, you know?" Part of me wonders why I'm lying, how I can say that when my body is burning up for him. But a bigger part of me is just too scared to get hurt again. "Join us at our table," I say, forcing my words to be casual. Friendly.
He curses under his breath, then takes a deep breath. "What are you having?"
"Two martinis. One sauvignon blanc. For Scarlet. One beer, something good on draft," I recite.
Without a response, he pushes his way through the masses of people all the way to the bar. People part for him, like he's some sort of celebrity. Maybe because he's so obviously pissed right now. Or maybe it's his handsome confidence, the ease with which he moves.
I head back to our table to wait.
"Hey, guys!" I force a bright smile onto my face as I sit back down at our table.
"You ditch us for like twenty minutes and then forget our drinks?" Michelle gives me a fake-pissed-off look.
"Oh, uh, it was crowded and Julian's bringing the drinks," I stammer.
"Really." Michelle perks up, interested in this new twist of events. "It's so great that everyone's here, isn't it?"
I shoot her an angry look, but she just smiles. I sit down and Ben puts his arm around me, draping it casually over my shoulders.
"Scarlet was telling me about taking figure skating lessons as a kid," he says.
"Like you!" I laugh, fighting my urge to wallow in self-pity right now. Despite my growing discomfort at tonight's situation, I can't help enjoying Ben's conversation and eager tone.
"Don't remind me," he says, but he's smiling. To Scarlet and Michelle he says, "Lia knows the dark truth about me. I started as a figure skater before switching to hockey."
"Sexy," says Michelle with a wink.
"You know it." He grins and laughs, and the sound is so contagious that I can't help laughing again. That dark blond hair, all tousled, is adorable, and I have to admit he smells really good. He's wearing some kind of cologne, but not too strong, and I inhale, hoping the scent will do something to my hormones so I start to really like like him. I need to get over Julian. Immediately, if possible. I scoot my chair a little closer.
But as soon as Julian comes to the table, all my attention is on him. Every cell in my body is aware that he's here, and thinking about anything—or anyone—else is impossible. I have a horrible moment of realization: I am broken. I will never get over him. I think I could go a decade without seeing him, but the second he was in my line of sight, I'd melt instantly. It's enough to send me into a panic, and somehow Michelle must sense that because she takes out her phone and sends me a text.
As Julian sits down next to Scarlet, putting his arm around her, I read Michelle's message: I'm totally a third wheel here (5th wheel?) but I will not miss this drama for anything!
You suck, I write back. THIS sucks. I am so fucked.
Such strong language from you! Didn't expect that.
Yeah. Well. This situation deserves it. I put my phone away and glance up at Julian. He's staring at me, but he looks away the second my eyes meet his. Scarlet's talking about some movie they're planning to see this weekend, and my stomach hurts when I think about them together in a dark theater, when I think about how Julian is hers. Hers to talk to and laugh with and kiss whenever she wants. He used to be mine, my mind screams. But that was a long time ago. Forever ago. And things have definitely changed since then. He's definitely changed. I compare the cocky college version of Julian, in his worn out jeans and hoodie, to this cleaned-up and sexy man, but though the physical differences are startling, the way his eyes look at me hasn't changed at all.
"Hey, my team's doing a pre-screening of that movie for the Boys and Girls Club. You two should come," says Ben suddenly.
"That would be so great!" says Scarlet. "Right, Julian?" She puts her hand on his arm, and I imagine what that crisp shirt must feel like. When she smiles up at him her face is so pretty, like an angel, and I imagine there isn’t a single guy who could say no to that.
"Absolutely." His eyes are blazing when he looks at me across the table, and I have to look away.
"So a double date, then?" Scarlet smiles at me.
"I hope so," says Ben. "Lia didn't say yes yet…" He opens his eyes at me in exaggerated hope.
"Uh, yes. It sounds great," I finally mutter. I have to force a smile on my face. Because a double-date with Julian and Scarlet is pretty much the last thing in the entire world I'd choose to do this weekend, except for maybe being thrown naked into a vat of acid. Other than that, though, I'd be hard pressed to think of something worse.
"Aw! So sweet!" Michelle's sarcasm breaks through my anxiety, and I shoot her a shriveling glance.
"Michelle," says Ben. "Do you really think I'd let you off the hook? You're in too. Bring someone. Or I can set you up with one of my buddies…"
"Yes, please." Michelle smiles sweetly at Ben. "Except, I've already dated a few of them. Maybe I should just bring my own date."
"Michelle, have I ever told you you're insane?" Ben says with a laugh.
"Everyone's told me that." She smiles primly and sips her martini.
Ben tightens his arm around me. "Lia, you gotta keep up," he says, gesturing at my still-untouched drink.
Julian's jaw tightens, and he stares at Ben's arm on my shoulder. Is it bad that I lean into Ben a little? When I do, Julian's eyes narrow a bit. I take a big sip of my martini, then set the glass down.
"Are you happy now?" I ask Ben, looking up into his smiling face.
"Thrilled. Even happier if it's always as easy to get you to do what I want!"
"Ben!" I laugh and swat him.
Julian is sitting completely still watching us, and when my eyes meet his, I think I see anger, yes, but something else too. I think it's pain. It looks the way I feel when I watch him with Scarlet. This is so fucked up. In so many ways.
"Sorry to make this an early night," says Julian abruptly. "Big morning tomorrow." He pushes his chair back from the table and stands. I can't keep my eyes off his shirt, fitted over his lean stomach and tucked into his pants. It would take me less than a second to untuck that shirt, to run my hands up under it…
"Do you want company?" Scarlet's voice, shrouded in shyness, brings me harshly back to reality.
"Absolutely." He's staring at me as he says it, but it's Scarlet who gets up. It's Scarlet whose hand he holds as he makes his way through the crowd and out into the winter night.
CHAPTER SIX
Randolph Meyer is ignoring my messages asking for an interview, and all my searches on him keep coming up empty. Even the original forum where I found my single contact's information seems to have shut down. I want to call her up again, see if she knows anyone else who can help, but I promised I wouldn't contact her anymore. Maybe an email. Just one email. She can always say no.
The original email I sent her was mysteriously deleted, and though I search my email for it once more, it's definitely gone. I did write it down, though, and I open up my notebook I use for all sort of notes and find it. I type up a quick note and send it: Hi again. Sorry to bother you. I've reached a dead end and need more information if you have it. Any names? Info? Call, text, or email back. Thanks! Lia.
A few seconds later my in-box tings with a response, a generic failure notice telling me the email address doesn't exist. OK then. I'll have to put my sleuth skills to work. The contact said she m
et with the head of Accounting, who was then transferred suddenly. Maybe if I call her replacement, I can at least get the name of the previous one. I look up Hope International online, click on the Contact Us page, and get a central phone number. After a few phone calls, transfers, and listening to bad background music on hold—though the muzak version of Billie Jean is actually kind of funky—I'm transferred to a man who says, "Allen Smith," in a rushed voice.
"Hi!" I say brightly. "I'm trying to reach the head of Accounting?"
"This is."
"Great! I'm actually trying to locate the person who previously held your position. Do you have any information on her?"
"Who is this?"
"Lia Hudson."
"Right. And your connection with Hope International?"
"Oh, I'm doing a story for Triton Media on how helpful Hope International's projects have been."
"Let me transfer you to our media department then," he says, his voice firm and sort of cold.
"Wait," I say, but it's too late. More muzak. I hang up.
I do a quick search on Allen Smith and Hope International, and I pull up a Facebook page with a picture of a really nondescript white male in a suit. He's listed Hope International as his current employer. That gives me an idea. If I search for "Head of Accounting" and the charity, maybe I can find his predecessor. I type in my search criteria, then sift through the results. Finally I find another Facebook page. Melanie George. Yes! I click on her page.
She's blocked non-friends from seeing anything other than her profile pictures, but I can see her work history, which obviously hasn't been updated since it still lists Hope International as her current employer. Her last profile photo is presumably of herself, a smiling and pretty woman in her forties with a bad perm. The last update of her profile picture was a few months ago.
Now I'm getting somewhere, I whisper as I do a final search on Melanie George and Chicago, where she works. Or worked. I have no idea what she's doing now, but hopefully I'm about to find out. I hit enter, then scan the results.
What the hell? The first headline sends chills down my spine, and my breathing gets quick: Body of Woman Pulled from Lake Michigan Identified as Melanie George of Chicago. The next few headlines, all on related articles, are similar. I click on the first one and scan the article, which is from two months ago. I learn that a body of an unidentified woman was pulled from the lake in November, and was later identified as Melanie George. A severe head wound had been inflicted prior to her death, and police believe she was rendered unconscious, then thrown into the water. The cause of death was drowning.