Assets (Balance Sheet #1)

by Shannon Dermott

  Looking in the mirror, I pushed back the auburn mass that was my hair to spill down my back. Today, it looked redder. I wasn’t sure if that was because of my mood or if the blonde that was mixed in there had somehow washed away. That was just my mood. It was winter. And summer seemed to bring out more of my natural highlights.

  After washing my face and brushing my teeth, my pale blue eyes stared blankly back at me and looked unfamiliar. Who was I? And what had I done with Bailey Glicks, the girl who’d grown up believing one should save themselves for marriage? I was brought up in an environment where sex was taboo. Hell, sex after marriage was meant for procreation not pleasure. I often wondered if maybe I’d left home four years ago for sexual freedom over the possibility of a career outside of the home or maybe it was both. If my parents knew just how far from grace I’d fallen, would my father ever allow me home to see my mom or siblings again?

  I pushed those thoughts back. Lizzy was right. What was done was done. I couldn’t take it back. And if I was honest with myself, I’d enjoyed it, a lot. I’d never felt that way before, free and acting on my own instinct instead of the will of others.

  Heading to the kitchen, I pulled out a bottle of Perrier because Lizzy didn’t have regular bottled water. I couldn’t fault her. She’d been brought up with a diamond encrusted spoon in her mouth. My parents wouldn’t understand or approve of all the modern conveniences that were right at home in this kitchen, especially the stainless steel appliances that hadn’t seen much use until I came along. Granite countertops finished off the place with a crystal Waterford bowl that before had only been decoration. Because of me, it had purpose holding fruit. I got a banana and started to eat it. I still felt sick, but I’d heard that bananas could help ease the effects of a hangover.

  Sitting at the counter, I thought about the events for today. We were heading over to Lizzy’s parents’ house for New Year’s brunch. Then later that evening, I had a date with a stockbroker. Yay for me,…not.

  “Morning, sex goddess,” Lizzy teased, striding into the kitchen looking flawless as always.

  “Bite me,” I said back. I was a morning person much like Lizzy, but I felt very grumpy all things considered.

  Popping her selection into her fancy coffee maker, she turned back to me. “So, how is your conscience this morning?”

  “The same, bruised and on the verge of death,” I answered lamely. Then I turned the tides on her. “I didn’t ask you about the guy whose tongue you swallowed while bringing in the New Year. Did you get his name and his business card?” The last bit was a dig because Lizzy didn’t normally date guys who had business cards or could even spell it. She liked them rough around the edges.

  “Yes, that sexy man was Hans. He’s an up and coming model from Sweden.”

  I knew it. I’d pegged him for a model. He had been too tall and too pretty to be anything else, from what I remembered. “I’m sure your mother would approve,” I said, winking at her.

  “It wouldn’t be her first choice. But she’d probably be happier with him than any other guy I’ve dated. Anyways, she’s not going to find out. I’m just glad you moved here so she can force guys onto you instead of me.”

  We both started laughing because my showing up on Lizzy’s door the week before Christmas with my story of betrayal from my finance had taken some of the ‘being single’ heat off of her.

  “We’re going to be late,” Lizzy said winking, drinking her coffee. Knowing it wasn’t good to show up late, a pet peeve of her mother’s, I nodded and headed to my room to get ready for brunch.

  By the time we made it the few blocks over to Lizzy’s parents’ place, my hangover was almost a thing of the past. The banana and water had helped significantly. So I was able to walk in without pain showing on my face. I wasn’t a good actress and her mother had a discerning eye.

  Inside their home, which was a lavish two-floor apartment in walking distance of Central Park, I was welcomed with two quick kisses on either side of my face by both of her parents. Her regal father stood tall and was grey all over but still extremely handsome. Her mother stood as tall as her daughter and was still a blonde through and through, natural or not. Not a question I would ever ask.

  Walking into her receiving room with a grey settee and two matched grey flowered chairs, we sat while a butler brought in tea and coffee.

  Taking a seat beside Lizzy in one of the dainty chairs while her parents sat on the settee, I waited while we were served. “How was your evening, dear?” Lizzy’s mom, Kathryn asked.

  Lizzy turned and winked at me. I wanted to scowl at her but kept the smile on my face. “Fine, great even.” I was surprised at how easily that lie had come. I didn’t want to explain my night. I was sure that would bring a blush, and the lie I would be forced to tell wouldn’t hold.

  “Good, good,” she said. “You Lizzy dear, how are you today?”

  Lizzy looking elegant and every bit like she belonged, said, “Well, a bit tired if I must say.”

  My smile slipped. My decorum was about to falter. My legs crossed, but my hands in my lap - ladylike, just how Kathryn had taught me - wanted to fist. Lizzy was playing games. She was trying to out me.

  Thankfully, the butler walked in and announced, “Brunch is served.”

  Lizzy’s dad Ted stood, holding out a hand to his wife, helping her to her feet. “Well, I’m sorry to hear of it. I guess we’ll keep brunch short so you can return home and lie down.”

  At her parents’ back, I pinched Lizzy who only giggled. But I had to give it to her. She’d given us cause to leave if we so desired to do so.

  We were ushered into the formal dining room, which held a king’s table, or rather a table that was far too large for two people. Four high-backed chairs were placed around the table, two at the head and foot and the other two opposite each other exactly midway on the long end. The pristine white-rimmed silver china was already set. Kathryn currently had a thing for silver. The silverware was perfectly placed for each course. Everything always in its place just as Kathryn wanted it to be. Being Lizzy’s best friend all through college and semi-adopted by her family where mine was seemingly absent from my life, I’d been coached on all proper etiquette for a young lady.

  Her parents sat the long distance from each other, which actually in this case didn’t mean what the subtext suggested. They did, in fact, get along. Lizzy and I sat across from each other in close proximity.

  The butler from earlier didn’t make an appearance. Instead, he orchestrated the wait staff, which appeared shortly after we’d settled, bringing the first course, and brunch began. Ted brought us up to date with all the current events from politics to the weather while the first course was removed. It was always good to get his updates because I didn’t watch much news or read the paper on the regular. It was simply depressing. And anyway, up until this summer, I was all about graduating with my degree in accounting, after which my efforts were focused on studying for the CPA exam.

  Pleasant conversation about current events continued throughout. I was happy the subject of my love life hadn’t come up. By the time dessert was served, I was well versed in all the hot button topics of the day. “Are you ready for your date tonight?” Kathryn asked during the next lull in conversation.

  And to think I’d gotten off unscathed. Smiling at Kathryn and catching a smirk on Lizzy’s face, I said, “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.” Not! I kicked Lizzy lightly under the table. It didn’t stop her quiet laughter.

  Really, I was so not looking forward to this. In fact, I pitied this guy. Whoever he was, he wouldn’t get a fair shot. I just wasn’t in the mood for a date. After last night, I just wanted some me time. I would be starting my new work assignment tomorrow and some extra sleep may have served me better. And on top of that, who goes out on a blind date New Year’s Day? I wasn’t sure why I had agreed to it. But the stockbroker, also fairly new in his job, rarely had a day off.

  “He’s a good boy. He’s a Wilshire of the Park Aven
ue Wilshires. You’d do well marrying into that family.”

  Marriage? I wasn’t ready to date, let alone marry. But Kathryn had set this up. There was no turning back. And honestly, after all they’d done for me, how could I possibly say no? Still, I’d heard this all before. First these ‘dates’ were directed at Lizzy, until her mother had given up. Lizzy didn’t care if she made a spectacle of herself and pissed off some guy who wasn’t her type, and didn’t care about the ramification to her mother’s reputation.

  On threat of fainting, Lizzy came through getting us out before her mother actually starting planning a wedding for me and the stockbroker. By the time Lizzy and I made it back to her place, I was mentally exhausted. “What are you going to wear?” Lizzy inquired with an arched eyebrow. She was draped over her white furniture in such a causal way I wondered just how it stayed free of any stains.

  “Can’t I just cancel?” I groaned, knowing it wasn’t possible.

  Lizzy shook her head. “Not unless you want to explain to my mother.

  Sighing, I headed to my room directly to the closet. If I’d cared about meeting a Wilshire from the Park Avenue of Wilshires, I might have borrowed something from Lizzy to wear. Still, I couldn’t make a bad impression that would rub off on Lizzy’s mom somehow. But it wasn’t like I was blowing the guy off. I hadn’t met him. However, I just broke up with my finance and it seemed far too soon to be dating or shagging, Lizzy’s word. And no, I didn’t want to think about last night. Yet, I was doing it anyway. Back to the matter at hand, a date made and kept to save my best friend the trouble. So I put on a black pencil skirt, an emerald green shirt that worked well with my hair color, and black heels. I hoped he wasn’t short.

  The doorman called up to let us know the visitor was on his way up according to Lizzy, who popped in the bathroom to inspect me. I was finishing up my makeup.

  “You look good,” she said.

  “Crap,” I said. “Maybe I should wear a sack.”

  She laughed. “Give the poor guy a chance. He could be the one.”

  “I’m not ready for the one,” I complained, yet I laughed along with her. She left before me to answer the door and entertain him while I finished up.

  Stepping into the living room, my bestie was flirting with my date. And when I got a glimpse of a cute guy with a dimple, I could see why. He had a genuine face that wasn’t serious but wasn’t foolhardy either. Maybe this evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With a car waiting for us at the curb, I was already impressed with my date. He was a couple inches taller than me in heels. Check. His sandy brown hair was fashionably cut, not too short and not too long. He was cute and his dimple screamed sweet. Check.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I made reservations at the 21 Club,” he informed me after we were on our way.

  “Sounds good,” I replied. I’d only heard about it. But I knew enough to know he wasn’t scrimping on our date.

  “You look beautiful, by the way,” he added, giving me a dimpled grin.

  “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said back, with a flirtatious smile.

  We ended up not on the main level of the restaurant, but we were swept upstairs to a more intimate setting, romantic too. The few tables were filled with guests quietly enjoying their meal. Holding my chair out for me, the guy was racking up points faster than I could count.

  Everything so far was perfect, or maybe it was my low expectations that fueled the good feelings. We were discussing the menu selections when the unthinkable happened. My one and only ever one-night stand walked in with a tall leggy brunette on his arm. Involuntarily, I lifted my menu to duck behind it. I mean really, what are the odds?

  Although I couldn’t see him, I heard the frown when my date said, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, peaking around the menu much like a small child. I needed to get it together. vzyl

  My stockbroker was wasn’t stupid. Continuing to peer around the side of the menu, I caught him turning around to see who or what I may have seen. Thankfully, Mr. Fuck Me Well was sitting with his date and hadn’t once looked in my direction, from what I saw at least. He seemed to be focused intently on his own date.

  Still partially hiding, my date was polite enough not to ask again. I did a good job of distracting him by peppering him with questions about his thoughts on what to choose for an entrée, giving me cause for my hidden position. Hopefully it would seem like I was really studying the menu instead of hiding my face behind a barrier.

  Dumbly, I realized I would have to put my menu down before the waiter would approach to take our order. Reluctantly, I did. My one-night stand continued not to notice me, and after a while I relaxed into conversation with my date.

  Retrospectively, it had been dark New Year’s Eve and we’d both been drinking. Maybe he didn’t remember me, I told myself. And he obviously didn’t have problems getting women.

  While my date talked about his life as a stockbroker at my prompting with questions, I found myself periodically gazing at the guy that had me begging for him to fuck me. No longer in a darkened ballroom or shrouded bathroom, he was gorgeous even in the light. I caught the glances of other women in the room, young and old alike, taking in his thick black hair, strong profile sculpted from all things pleasing, and a mouth that promised sensual pleasures. I could barely take my eyes off him.

  “Bailey,” my date said in a way to capture my attention.

  I turned quickly to him. “Yes,” I replied, blinking rapidly, knowing I was caught.

  “I asked about what you did,” he inquired.

  “Oh,” I answered, feeling guilty that I hadn’t been paying any attention to him. It was rude. “I’m an auditor, not really as exciting as your job.”

  “I think you would make anything interesting,” he said, focused solely on me. Thankfully, the first course showed up and I didn’t have to answer that question. As much as I’d enjoyed my date so far, the guy that remained nameless had captured all my attention and I found myself inappropriately damp at the sight of him. Then again, my body probably just remembered.

  While eating, I kept stealing looks over at the guy who wasn’t with me. He made taking a drink an incredibly erotic experience, which was crazy. By the time our empty entrée plates were removed, I found that I had to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. I had not worn stockings. I needed to freshen up and bad. The man ate his food in a way that had me imagining him nibbling on me.

  Thankfully, I’d been able to keep up with dinner conversation while honing my stalker abilities. In the bathroom, I took care of cleanup. Then I stared at myself long and hard in the mirror. It was shameful that a man that wasn’t even my date could make me this hot from across the room. I should forget about him and concentrate on the man that had taken me out that night. Yeah right, easier said than done, I thought.

  After reapplying my lip gloss, I headed out the door and right into a wall.

  “Excuse me,” I said before looking up. And up, and there he was.

  “Bailey,” he said in a heavily accented voice that was extremely sexy. My Scotsman stood in front of me.

  Shocked, I asked, “How do you know my name?”

  “Your friend called out your name. Why did you run away?” he asked, sounding a bit hurt.

  Flustered because he was so close, I was becoming abnormally wet again. I thought I might have to go back into the restroom before I went to my date. “It’s obvious you don’t need me,” I said, sounding petty and jealous. Clearing my throat, I reached for calm and rational words. “Last night should not have happened. I’m not that kind of girl,” I sputtered, unable to keep it together in his presence.

  “Need?” he said. “I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.”

  “You don’t seem to have a problem with that,” I accused.

  Searching my eyes, he said, “She’s a business associate.”

  “Do you look at all your associates that way?”
I challenged.

  “I give the person I’m with my full attention.” And that was a true statement. People were passing us in this narrow hall, mostly servers, and he didn’t at all seem the least bit fazed by who saw him caging me in without lifting an arm.

  Turning from his green-eyed stare, I said, looking over his shoulder, “It doesn’t matter. I’m out with someone tonight and I need to get back.”

  He stepped closer, which didn’t seem possible, and put his hand on my thigh. “I know and it’s making me insane to think he’s so close to you and I’m not.” His hand pushed up further and I was frozen with lust. My middle clenched, and I swear if he had touched me there I would have spontaneously combusted.

  “I have to go,” I whimpered, sounding completely unsure of myself.

  “Let me see you again.”

  I was back looking at his amazing face, trying to read the validity of his statement. “I don’t even know your name.” But I was also aware I’d been gone far too along than to be considered polite. Kathryn had taught me better.

  Searching my eyes, he waited several beats before answering. “Kalen,” he said. He continued to watch me as if waiting for some sort of reaction. Was he lying to me about his name?

  “Kalen,” I said.

  He stepped ever closer, leaving not a breath between us. “I love how my name sounds from your mouth.”

  “I have to get back to my date.”

  “See me tomorrow,” he said, even though it was a question.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He leaned in and I almost thought he would kiss me. “Meet me here tomorrow at eight,” he commanded, taking a step back.

  Free, I moved, but he caught my wrist. “Don’t let him touch you.”

  Then he let me go, and I fled back into the dining room to find that dessert had been served and my date was waiting for my arrival. I felt like such a bad person. Here I’d been jilted and I was lusting over another guy while on a date with a really nice guy.