West End Wonder: A Hero Club Novel

by Sheri Lynn

  Renee kept him informed about Amanda. She arrived home, saw an orthopedic surgeon, had a surgery in which the doctor commended the treatment she received on Roatán, and she received a positive prognosis. After a few months of physical therapy, her physician expected a full recovery and full mobility restored.

  Trevor grew up hearing ‘where there’s a will there’s a way.’ And he recognized the exact determination in Sophia from the day he met her. It always crushed him that she wouldn’t deviate from her vision. Yet expected him to. And she wouldn’t entertain the notion of them splitting their time between places in order to salvage their relationship.

  He never understood her huge hang-up. Sure, she worried about him finding someone else. Well hell. He could worry over the same. The afternoon he had her on Utila. Skinny-dipping. Laughing. Loving. They needed more of that. And they could no matter where they happened to be.

  Okay, he didn’t like city traffic. It had been far too long since he inflicted it upon himself and he had not missed it. Horns sounded in every direction. The apologetic hand waves he gave the first few miles converted to a stiff bird and a whole lot of swearing.

  He found her home easy enough after leaving the congestion of the city. She chose a gated community which he gained access into once he produced a photo ID, her name, address, and cited his intended business. A bouquet of two-dozen roses strapped into the passenger seat of his rental car and no notation of him being on the unwanted list allowed him entry.

  The cute, well maintained and well manicured home sat on a cul-de-sac about a quarter mile inside the development. Tan siding met multi-colored brick at window level accented with olive-green shutters had him smiling. It might be less grandiose than he expected, but it suited her.

  He waited. Hour after hour. Midnight came and went. Morning came and went. No activity. She couldn’t possibly be avoiding her home thinking he would show. He texted her again. He tried to call her again. He left another voice message telling her he wanted to talk to her. Just check in and make sure she settled back in okay.

  Nothing.

  Could her security have alerted her she had a visitor? Certainly, their duties didn’t include that. And she wouldn’t have suspected he’d come. He didn’t return for her before. So why did he feel it necessary now? Again. Now or never. He wanted Sophia. She either wanted him or didn’t. He needed to know now. No more wasting time pining for what may have been or might be.

  And if security notified her and she reported him as being unwelcome, he wouldn’t still be inside the gates. They would have escorted him out. Could she be with the guy she claimed to be involved with. No. He never bought into that lie.

  Pulling her business card out of his wallet, he input the address into his maps app. Next stop, her office.

  An hour of near accidents, continuous horns, and more punches to the steering wheel than he could ever recall, he raced his vehicle into an obviously claimed parallel parking spot. The woman in the other car backing straight toward the hood of his took hers out of reverse and into park inches from colliding with him. She exited her car and marched to his window.

  He turned the volume up on the stereo, thumping his head and snapping his fingers. Ignoring her. He didn’t think she would ever leave. But she did. After steadily pounding her fist on his window and screaming profanities.

  Catching a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and then looking at the fancy modern glass encased building beside him, the realization struck that he should have taken a shower. Changed clothes. Completely freshened himself up some.

  Truth being, he felt as terrible as he looked. He hadn’t slept but in short increments throughout the night. He hadn’t eaten since the flight from Roatán to Atlanta. He hadn’t had anything to drink either and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert. And his mind and body crackled with nervous energy and acute eagerness to get answers.

  The two-dozen roses didn’t possess the fresh, impressive representation as the previous day, but damn if he wouldn’t greet her with them in hand. Sliding his finger across his teeth and combing his hands through his hair, he picked the flowers up out of the seat and headed inside the swanky building.

  Entering the building behind bustling men and women in boring, uncomfortable looking business attire, he made his way to the elevator. The business card indicated the third floor as the location of Sophia’s office. Everywhere he looked he saw the colors gray and white. Sterile. He preferred color in his life.

  A couple of ladies taking the elevator up with him commented on the flowers and how they would make some lovely lady’s day. He sure hoped so. Hell, he hoped they made his day—the rest of his life.

  Exiting on the third floor he stepped in a wide corridor running left and right. Reading the card again, it had suite 340 as the office number. He went right initially. The doors were widely spaced apart. It took him down and around a corner before he realized the numbers were descending from 310.

  He jogged back from the direction he came. Damn if his nerves weren’t trying to get the best of him. This entire scenario could blow up in his face. And what if her wishy-washiness never improved. She could agree to marry him and jilt him at the altar. He picked up his pace sprinting down the hallway. If he didn’t find her and find out how she truly felt, he believed he might spontaneously combust or desert the entire endeavor.

  Reaching a dead-end of windows and glass doors he slowed and ran his hand through his hair. He inhaled slow and deep hoping to slow his escalating breathing and his racing heartbeat. The door had the large, bold number 340.

  Through the glass he watched people moving through a large reception area. Glancing behind him, he considered vacating his plan. He noticed the trail of rose petals his bouquet lost during his dash to get there.

  Just do it, man. No regrets.

  He pushed open the right glass door and stepped inside. The office space inside didn’t correspond with the dull décor of the rest of the building. There were vases filled with beautiful assortments of flowers on the end tables, coffee tables, and on the corners of the wide multi-person desk in the center of the space.

  “Welcome to Conrad Venue Management, how can I assist you today,” asked an attractive young woman behind the counter.

  Walking deeper inside he saw plush sitting areas not only on the left he observed initially, but a mirror image on the right. Each section contained people. The one on the right had two individuals conversing as they leaned over documents on the coffee table.

  Trevor became increasingly aware of his appearance and how uncomfortable he felt in his current environment. Imagining that as his life if he would have followed the normal path of college graduates with a business degree gave him more of an appreciation for his choices.

  “Yes. I’m here to see Sophia Conrad,” Trevor stated.

  The girl who greeted him eyed him and smiled. He couldn’t translate the smile. One second it gave him a flirty vibe. The next a shunning one. “Just place the flowers on the counter. I’ll see that she gets them,” she replied.

  She wore a headset and answered callers he assumed as her finger tapped a switchboard. She ignored him as if he didn’t still stand there. Another woman came from a door behind the counter and took the empty seat beside the one dismissing him.

  She too eyed him and grinned before a cold impassive expression took possession of her. “Have you not been helped?” asked ‘statue lady.’

  “I’m not sure. I am here to see Sophia Conrad,” he restated.

  “If you are delivering the flowers--,” she stalled, scrutinizing the once glorious roses, “We will make sure she gets them.”

  Oh, he didn’t miss associating with puffed-up assholes and bitches. Except for one. Sophia. “I am delivering flowers. To Miss Conrad. From me. I wish to do it in person.”

  Sure, he had a beard, longer hair, but just because he had on blue jeans and a West End Wonders t-shirt didn’t warrant them the entitlement to misjudge him as someone not worthy of Mis
s Conrad’s time and attention.

  The first dismissive’s head sprang from her keyboard, her eyes wide with nervousness or apology. “Is Miss Conrad expecting you. She has no meetings on the schedule.” She extended an impromptu, reasonable explanation.

  “No, she is not. If you let her know Trevor is here to see her, I know she will take me--,” He lifted his right eyebrow before shifting his gaze and winking at ‘statue lady’. She squirmed in her chair, lowered her eyes, and blushed. He had to squeeze his lips together to keep from laughing.

  First lady chuckled and tried to hide it behind a cough. “Mr. Trevor, I apologize but Miss Conrad is out of the office.”

  Placing his forearms on the tall counter, he leaned in and cocked his head at the first lady. “Do you have any issue with me taking a seat and waiting until she returns? It’s of the utmost urgency I see Miss Conrad.”

  She tilted her cheek into her shoulder and responded coyly. “I think that will be just fine.”

  “We do not expect her anytime soon. Not even today. At all,” added Miss Statue.

  “No problem. Meeting with Miss Conrad is the only thing I must do today.” He shrugged and went to the sitting area opposite of two occupants holding a conversation. The man waiting in a chair in the section he chose never looked up from his phone.

  Four hours later after a couple cups of really good coffee, a couple of pastries, and intermittent conversation with the two ice queens manning the fort, his edginess reappeared. He learned more than he expected from Tori and Sierra. Tori had a shithead of a boyfriend. Sierra’s husband kept pressuring her for a baby. He hoped once he won them over, they would grant him access to the prized land behind the doors they so diligently monitored. No such luck.

  He heard Sierra taking what sounded like a lunch order over the phone from other office personnel. She repeated each selection and jotted notes on a pad. Standing, she called to him. “Trevor, today is Chinese food. Would you like to order something?”

  Opening his mouth to give his order with some form of a sexual innuendo as they reacted so amusingly to it each time he did so, a tall, extremely thin brunette ran inside the office.

  Slamming her bag on the counter, she ranted, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I’m losing it. I swear I’m losing it. I can’t. I’m not Sophia. I don’t know how she does it. I can’t. Tydall is a fucking nightmare. I’m not her. I --,” she gulped, an actual audible gulp. She slowly pivoted her head, glimpsed Trevor and whipped it back to the ice queens. She lifted her hands and dropped her forehead into them shaking it. “No. No. No. I didn’t see anyone,” she moaned.

  She wouldn’t have seen him. He had the far seat of the left sitting area pushed back into the corner and possibly had captured a power nap or two over the past four hours.

  He hated the thought of mortifying the poor woman, so he stood and moved closer. “No harm. No foul. I’m Trevor.” He extended his hand for a shake, but the upset woman took one glance at him and started crying. Yes. Crying. Her hands went to her face and she turned facing the counter.

  Every man has their kryptonite. Trevor’s happened to be a crying woman. He lifted his arm wondering if he should place it on her shoulder. Rub her back?

  Damn it. Sophia complicated his life. Everything about her spelled disaster.

  “Where is Sophia? Is she okay?” he asked. Better to start with the essential inquiries and go from there.

  Speaking of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, little miss breakdown lifted her head, went silent, took his hand in a vise grip and pulled him along behind her.

  Towing him inside one of the many offices down a long hallway on the other side of one of the ‘special access’ doors, she closed the door and threw her arms around his neck in a bear hug. He didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t know who she was. She hugged him for what seemed like an eternity. It generated a stream of questions and uncertainty until she finally pulled back, patted his face with her palm and spoke. “I’m Molly. You probably have never heard of me. Because I know Sophia and…so do you. No need to elaborate.” She walked to the front of a desk, turned around, came back to him, and repeated this multiple times.

  He watched her. Afraid if he said something she might cry. Terrified of – he didn’t know anymore. He came to get his girl. Everything he thought he expected, which was plenty on its own, developed into so much he never fathomed. Did he know Sophia? Obviously, he didn’t. And after spending a few hours in a business she created and managed, he knew her less.

  And crying women. He could never handle a crying woman. An angry one, sure.

  What the fuck? Drama. Pretentiousness. Not anything he wanted. Was this the real Sophia?

  Crying lady began talking. She never stopped pacing, but once her words flowed, they gushed in unison with her steps. “Sophia is fine. I think so, anyway. I don’t want to say too much. Because I don’t know anymore. Something happened and she went home. As in back home with her mom. As long as I’ve known her, I don’t think she has ever been back there. And whoever else and whatever else…that place is absolutely no good for her mindset.” She paused and shot up in front of Trevor. Clutching his shoulders, she shook him. “Do you love her? Do you plan to stick with her through all of her—everything. I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, but I need to know how committed you are to her.”

  What did this lady know about him? Alarm bells echoed through his cranium. He did love Sophia, but he might have made a mistake. “Who are you?” But did it even matter. His instincts told him to tuck tail and run. Did Sophia have someone else? Was she with her supposed someone else?

  No. No. Cry lady, Molly, said she went home. Home. Home with her mom. As in her childhood home?

  She loosened her grip on his shoulders before softly patting each one. She finished her obvious ‘excuse me for my bold and invasive conduct and interrogation’ gesture by rubbing her hands over his shirt and down the sleeves stopping at his elbows. Taking two giant steps back, she licked her lips, closed her eyes and squeezed them shut for several seconds before speaking. “I’m Molly, Sophia’s COO.” She extended her hand for a shake. “I’m also her friend.”

  “Thanks for clarifying that,” he barked. She did seem gleefully proud to be Sophia’s friend. “I don’t know what I’ve walked into here, but Sophia and I—,” he paused. Words, thoughts, feelings froze. How did one begin to describe him and Sophia. “I love her.”

  “I know all about you. And. I can’t comment on much,” Molly remarked.

  “You can’t or won’t.”

  She scurried behind the desk and wouldn’t make eye contact. “I can’t because I don’t have any answers. I have the distinct feeling she hasn’t contacted you since she went to that wedding. She came back and never made an appearance for over a week. Which I forced when I finally went to her house and got her out of bed and she confided in me--,” she began and faltered, “Everything was fine after. And I had no indication it wouldn’t be. But she called me Monday night saying she couldn’t attend a major meeting we had scheduled Tuesday because she had to go home. And she meant home as in to see her mom. No explanation. I haven’t heard from her since. She won’t answer my calls or texts.”

  “She talked to you about me? Her and me?” Fucking awesome. She talked about him. No, hold up. Probably nothing good could come from that. She had a week of avoiding life to assemble a lengthy list of cons for the two of them. “I planned on contacting her eventually after she left the island. But the accident affected her…it shook her pretty bad. We weren’t on great terms when she left.”

  Plopping in the chair behind the desk, Molly started clicking a keyboard. “It did. Along with seeing you again. She came back emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. But it caused her to take a hard look at her life and what matters most to her. And you do. I too don’t understand what has changed since Sunday. She was happy and excited about having you in her future.” Picking up a pen and scribbling on a sticky note, she tore it off and stretched her hand ou
t to him. “This is her mother’s address. And my number. Text me now so I’ll have your number. I will let you know as soon as I hear something, and you do the same. She will probably kill me for this. But I believe you probably know more about her family and background than I do so it won’t come as some huge shock to you. Go get some answers and take care of her. I have a terrible feeling she really needs you right now.”

  What the hell just happened? Molly said he matters most to Sophia. She saw him in her future. That news calmed his nerves and motivated him.

  She went home though. Hearing she went home troubled him. Something major must have occurred. Something significant enough to swing her in the opposite direction maybe. Once Sophia’s insecurities were triggered, she had the tendency to shut down completely.

  Regardless of everything and anything—as if he wouldn’t go and do everything in his power to get his girl.

  Chapter 13

  Home aka Hell

  Sophia

  How could in less than two weeks her entire universe turn upside down. She lived a satisfying life. She had a routine. A strict routine. Yes, Slo-phia functioned on coffee, appointments, deadlines. She loved it.

  In thirteen days, she decided to derail her entire existence. Well, that encompassed the number of days since she left for Roatán. The upsetting of her life occurred the moment she stood in front of Griffin Hall and the kindest, most beautiful guy in the world noticed her and offered to help her find her class.

  She had been so lost. Not just on campus, but at life in general. He supported her in the most valuable of ways. With his love. She felt safe, accepted, and adored. All the things she now knew money can’t buy.

  The decision came surprisingly easy. Imagining another decade, another month, without Trevor physically hurt. If she wanted to be with Trevor, which she did, she needed more flexibility in her life. She turned over two of her largest clients to Molly and gradually they would have her take over more and more of the day-to-day operations.