Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Show Me Something
Something Series Book #5
By Aubrey Bondurant
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is for mature audiences only.
Cover by: coversbykaren.com
Text copyright © 2017 by Aubrey Bondurant
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CHAPTER ONE
I studied my reflection in the full-length mirror of my temporary apartment bedroom and sighed heavily. As I took in my stressed out, tired face in the mirror, I felt years older than twenty-nine. Why had I agreed to go to this fancy cocktail party tonight?
The short answer was because my friends had invited me, and I couldn’t possibly say no. After all, they’d rallied to move my son and me up to Connecticut when we’d suddenly needed to leave Charlotte. I didn’t want them to see me unhappy or think I was ungrateful for their support.
But dressing up had never been my thing. I was more of a Keds and jeans kind of girl. As if to drive the point home, when I stepped into the only somewhat fancy dress I owned, it was tight around my midsection. Unfortunately, it was becoming difficult to rationalize the extra pounds stemming from pregnancy now that my son was over two years old.
One more thing to add to my Juliette 2.0 plan. Lose these last ten stubborn-as-hell pounds. Oh, and stop cursing so much. But did internal cursing really count towards having to put money into the swear jar? Hm. Determination to be made later.
After slipping the garment off, I shimmied into some Spanx, tugged them up, and hoped this would suck in my stomach and make my hips appear slimmer. When I put the black dress on again, I was pleased that my zipper strained a little less. Shapewear. Seriously, the best invention ever. Well, maybe a close second to my seat warmers. Because who didn’t love a warm ass while driving?
Next, I contemplated whether to wear my shoulder-length, blonde-in-desperate-need-of-a-root-touch-up hair up or down. But why bother the contemplation? It would go up in a ponytail like it always did these days. Lastly, I put on some concealer along with some mascara. As I inspected the result, I had to fight the self-doubt creeping up.
Who was I kidding by attending a party while my life was in shambles? It would be better to skip tonight rather than fake my way through. I was just about to take the dress off and bag on going when I heard a knock on the bedroom door.
My mother’s smiling face poked in. She’d made the drive with me from Charlotte, North Carolina, home for us, and had helped me get settled over the last couple days. She was essentially an older version of me with her tiny frame and big brown eyes. “Don’t you look pretty.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ve changed my mind. I should stay here and spend time with you and Tristan, especially since you’re leaving tomorrow.”
She wasn’t having it, using her infamous mom-guilt voice. “No, you’re not, Juliette Marie. The party is literally two flights of steps up, and I’m not letting you back out of it. You’re a wonderful mother, honey, but it’s not all you are. You deserve a night out with your friends, especially today of all days.”
Ah, yes. Ten years ago on this date, at the age of nineteen and while full of hope and a heavy dose of naïveté, I’d said I do. And now I was celebrating my wedding anniversary seven hundred miles away from the man with whom I’d pledged to spend the rest of my life.
Yeah, happy anniversary, asshole.
I tried unsuccessfully to bite down on my resentment. Both my two-year-old son and I had been forced to pack up and leave town a few days ago because an investigation had revealed my couldn’t-be-my-ex-soon-enough husband was a dirty cop. I’d been told he was about to be arrested for a litany of crimes. Thankfully, I had filed for divorce months ago and had full custody. At least for now.
My son. Tristan. He was the light of my life. And fortunately, he was completely oblivious to both his father’s indifference to him and criminal behavior.
Ugh. I needed to stop focusing on Rob otherwise it would put me in a bad mood. It wasn’t an easy task considering I held onto a lot of anger. I was especially furious that he’d put his son in potential danger. But I forced myself to tamp it down. Keep it all internalized. Over the last few months, I’d perfected the art of putting on a brave front despite going through personal hell. What were a few more months?
My mom hugged me tightly and I knew she got it. After my father left us when I was six, she’d raised both me and my sister by herself. She’d remarried once we were older, but I remember her devoting every hour outside of her job to her girls. I only hoped I could be half the parent she had always been.
“Maybe you’re right. I should go and forget for a little while.”
We both heard the knock on the front door, and my mother smiled. “I’m sure that’s one of your friends ensuring you don’t back out, too. I’ll get it.”
Haylee’s voice and a tap on the door sounded a minute later. “Hey, Juliette, can I come in?”
Haylee was twenty-four, a new mom, a law school student, and quickly becoming one of my best friends. It was due to her generosity that I was living in this apartment building. She was as nice as she was beautiful. Although she’d married the multimillionaire owner of the company I worked for, it hadn’t changed her one bit. She was still as down-to-earth and sweet as she’d always been.
“Sure,” I responded and watched her walk into my bedroom, already dressed for the party.
She was wearing a stunning, most likely vintage, print dress with vibrant purples and greens. She looked like a cover model, which incidentally she’d once been for Cosmo Life magazine.
I didn’t have a jealous bone in my body, but the effortless way she was put together hardly quelled my insecurity over my too-tight dress and hair in a ponytail.
“Ooh, I love your dress. You look gorgeous,” Haylee complimented.
I shrugged it off. “Thanks. But you’re the one who looks amazing.” And she did, with her long brown hair left soft and down and her stunning wrap dress setting off her curves. “And don’t think I’m swinging this way, but your boobs are, like, incredible.”
She laughed. “One of the benefits of nursing the baby would be my added cup size. Great to look at but not as nice
to touch, unfortunately. Matter of fact, the next order of business before I go up to the party is to pump.”
I didn’t share that mine had never returned to their original shape and size after a year of nursing, opting to exercise a rare filter on my speech and hope she wasn’t as unlucky with her post-nursing body. “Do you want something to drink? I have milk, Diet Coke or water.”
“No, thanks. I just wanted to make sure you still intended to come tonight.”
My phone buzzed in that moment, and I held up the text message from our mutual friend, Sasha.
“Don’t even think about changing your mind about the party. I will find you and force-feed you a martini if necessary.”
“Looks as though you weren’t the only one worried I’d back out. To tell the truth, I’m tempted to stay in. Things in my life are a little crazy currently, so attending a party seems, I don’t know...”
Haylee lifted a brow. “Who would judge you? Not this crowd, that’s for certain. And if you’re not up to it tonight, there’s a luncheon tomorrow you could go to instead.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I need to take my mom to the airport.”
“That’s right. I forgot. If you don’t want to go tonight, I certainly won’t guilt you into it. That being said, I do have someone I’d love for you to meet.”
Wasn’t there a rule that you couldn’t be set up on your wedding anniversary while waiting on your soon-to-be ex to get arrested? No? There probably should be. But more significant than that issue, the thought of being intimate with someone new conjured up a whole other level of insecurity. I’d only ever been with Rob. Even that had been a long time ago.
“Although I appreciate it, I don’t think I’m quite up for it tonight.”
A flush crept across her pretty face. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that kind of setup. Although what I’m about to suggest is probably equally as presumptuous, if not more so.”
“I’m not easily offended, so hit me with it.”
She smiled. “Okay. There’s a therapist by the name of Doctor Mark MacNally—Dr. Mac we call him for short. He’s a PhD, not medical, doctor, by the way. Turns out he’ll be attending the party tonight. He’s amazing. He’s helped me deal with my depression over losing my parents. And he’s also been great to talk to about my marriage. Thanks to him, we were able to navigate a year full of changes. Although he may specialize in grief, he’s really good with all things. I’m not implying you need someone to talk to, but if you do want to with all that’s happening—I’d be happy to introduce you.”
I was surprised. Not that she was suggesting I speak with a therapist—hello, my life lately practically begged for one—but rather that she was so open about her own struggles. From the outside, it appeared she had it all, much like my friend Sasha. Incidentally, Sasha had also confided to me she’d seen a professional for her anxiety disorder. Maybe there was something to be said about this whole counseling thing. I found myself genuinely curious.
“How does he help? Do you simply talk the entire time, or does he ask questions?”
“Both. He goes off your cues. Talking to him, at least for me, is cathartic. He directs my thoughts and doesn’t judge. Obviously, your friends and family will be there for you, but if you’re anything like I am, you don’t want to feel as though you’re a burden. That’s why it’s nice to unload on someone who makes it a profession to listen to people.”
I appreciated that she got the type of person I was. “I think me being up here is enough of a burden.” Especially since I was staying rent free in the building her husband owned, and I was being allowed to ‘work from home.’ “But I wouldn’t mind meeting him. Maybe I’ll get a sense then if I’d be comfortable talking with him professionally.” Perhaps he could help me put a plan in motion for my reinvention.
“Great. I’ll be sure to introduce you. And you’re not a burden at all. Matter of fact, Josh is happy that someone else is living here, especially since he works in New York during the week. His friend Mark has an office in the building, but he doesn’t live here or hang out much.”
Considering this apartment building was only a short walk from the Yale campus where Haylee went to school, was four stories high, and had multiple units, I’d been surprised to see it unoccupied. “Yeah, I noticed there weren’t any other tenants. Why is that?”
She sighed. “At first it was because Josh wanted to remodel all of the rooms before renting them out. But after the renovations were finished a few months ago, he was leery about who to rent to.”
“Ah. He worries about who might be sharing a building with his wife and daughter.”
She laughed. “Bingo. Even if I suggest only women move in, he’s worried about the men who may visit them. And I don’t think a doorman to screen people is common practice here in New Haven. Although I think Josh is sometimes overprotective, I appreciate he’s thinking of safety. For the record, I’m happy to have another mom I can talk to and hang out with during the week. I’d never tell him, but I get lonely. Monday through Thursday, I miss him.”
The bright spot in this situation was that I got to spend time with Haylee over the next few weeks. “I look forward to hanging out with you, too. And I definitely appreciate all you’ve done. Not only did you furnish the apartment, but you also showed me around town and are including me in everything.”
“So, does that mean I’ll see you up there soon? As a special tonight, they’re making pomegranate martinis.”
I smiled. “You had me at martini. See you up there.”
***
There was one thing I knew straight off when I stepped onto the rooftop that was beautifully decorated for the party with white lights and small, high-top tables: I needed liquid happiness. Which meant locating the bar. The September night was crisp, especially compared to North Carolina. But outdoor heaters were located in several places around the wide-open space under which guests could mingle.
Simply sniffing the ruby-red pomegranate martini handed to me by the bartender started to give me a buzz. That’s how low my tolerance for liquor had plummeted over the last couple years, driven down by pregnancy, nursing and, you know, keeping my shit together as a single parent.
But I wasn’t a quitter. Matter of fact, I was determined to get my tolerance back up to a respectable level. Now this was the type of goal I didn’t think I’d have a hard time sticking with. I’d train hard if I had to. Someone cue the Rocky music.
On more serious matters, I’d given some thought to what Haylee had said earlier about her therapist, Dr. Mark something or other. But I was nervous about spilling my guts to a stranger. I might be outspoken when it came to giving my opinion or oversharing, but dealing with emotions and vulnerability was a different matter. If I ever did, it was often masked by sarcasm and a heavy dose of self-deprecation. That was my thing. But perhaps meeting the therapist tonight would give me a better sense as to whether or not I could be comfortable talking with a stranger. Actually, it might feel good to get some things off my chest to someone I didn’t have to see the next day if I didn’t want to. A safe zone, if you will.
I was relieved to see a familiar face and smiled when Brian Carpenter came up. He was both my boss and one of my best friends. Although people would be hard pressed to realize it, I was intimidated and feeling far out of my element here tonight.
“Hey, there. You look beautiful,” he complimented, kissing my cheek.
“Thanks.” He was always so polite. “Where’s your better half?” Sasha Brooks was his fiancée and another one of my best friends. We all had worked together in the Charlotte office of Gamble Advertising for years.
“She stopped off in the ladies’ room but will be up in a moment. So, are you getting settled in?”
“Yeah. I got a mani/pedi this morning with the girls, and it was great. The apartment is great, too. And, well, you know, Haylee and Josh are—”
“Great,” he offered with a chuckle, but then got serious. “I’m sure this i
s all a whirlwind, but I hope you realize you’ve got a lot of support and are surrounded by good people who think the world of you. I know it’ll be tough being away from your mom and the office, but it’s only temporary until shit settles.”
I smiled, not wanting him to think for a moment that I was ungrateful, especially since contacting Haylee about moving up here had been his idea. “I know and appreciate it. I’m sure the time will probably fly by.”
As I drained my glass and then grabbed martini number two, I spotted Sasha coming towards us. She hugged me and then took her fiancé’s hand. They made a stunning couple, I mused: Brian with his boy-next-door handsomeness and Sasha, striking with her straight black hair and flawless complexion. I’d called it eight years ago that they’d make a great pair when Brian had first met her at the office. There had been sparks flying a mile wide. But it hadn’t been until last year that they’d finally gone for it.
Sasha was dressed as impeccably as always, with her sky-high heels and designer dress that accentuated killer curves. But under the image of perfection beat the heart of a true friend, someone I knew struggled daily to battle her anxiety disorder. It went to show not to judge anyone by what you saw on the surface. Take me. I was all smiles despite feeling completely out of place.
“How are you? You look amazing,” Sasha commented.
“Thanks. It’s definitely been a long time since I’ve had a reason to dress up. Matter of fact, I’m working on my drinking tolerance and could use some help to get it back to a respectable level.”
Brian frowned at my idea, but Sasha grinned. “Let’s grab the other girls and get you started.”
***
I had surpassed buzzed straight into drunk status about an hour later. That I still managed to walk upright in heels made me proud. So did the fact I’d kept my mouth shut. Unfortunately, in intimidating situations such as tonight, my nervousness was known to cause me to over-talk. Often without a filter and always with too much information. But tonight, thankfully, I’d kept my guard up and my mouth shut.
Wanting to take a few minutes to sober up before going downstairs, I sipped on a glass of water and made my way to the other side of the roof. There it was quiet with a number of unoccupied chairs.
Show Me Something Page 1