by Devon Scott
Yes.
She has no choice.
Carly answers on the third ring.
It takes Olivia ten seconds to spit the words out.
“I…I just caught Miles in bed…with a man…he slapped me…not sure what to do…”
Olivia’s former best friend listens for a moment.
“Another picture-perfect marriage down the drain,” Carly responds finally, without a trace of compassion. “Welcome to my world.”
Then the line goes dead.
Chapter 30
Miles sits behind an oak desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Across from him in one of two chairs is Aden. Both men are quiet, staring off into space, alone with their thoughts. Five days have passed since this thing transpired between Aden, Miles, and Olivia.
“I feel bad,” Aden says, breaking the silence.
Miles glances over at him.
“Don’t. What’s done is done. Besides, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
He stares out the window; his office is on the second floor of a U-shaped building overlooking a courtyard. A throng of adolescent boys play basketball while a half dozen onlookers cheer them on. Aden stares at Miles, urging him to continue.
“I mean, I love my wife, don’t get me wrong. But this is something that needs to be done.”
“What is?”
“This feeling I have inside me. The way I am.”
Aden smiles.
“You mean, the way you like guys?”
Miles shoots him a look.
“You know it goes deeper than that.”
“I know. I was just trying to bring some levity to the situation.”
“Seriously, I can’t help who I am…or what I’ve become. I’m still struggling with all of this, trying to sort everything out—and I genuinely hope Olivia can get past this.”
“You know I’m here for you, Miles.”
“Yes, I know that. Thank you.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“Nope. Olivia won’t take my calls. I figure it’s best that I stay away—give her time to cool off.”
“I’ve been thinking…about your situation. I think you should consider staying with me.”
Miles stares at him sharply.
“Are you out of your mind? You and I work together. I’m the director here. Hell, I hired you. How’s that gonna look? Aden, please!”
“I don’t mean permanently. But I hate the thought of you being miserable at night, all by yourself.”
“Aden, it’s not going to happen. Besides, I think I have my living situation all worked out.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I have an old hang-out buddy who used to play for the Redskins. Retired now—knee injury. He’s got a couple of properties around town that he keeps for out-of-town guests or when he’s in the mood to throw a party. Anyway, I called him; he owes me a favor…”
“I’m not gonna ask,” Aden replies.
“Then don’t.”
“May I ask where this place is?”
“It’s right off of Connecticut Avenue, by the National Zoo. A quiet street of row houses.”
“Great!”
“I’m moving in there tonight after work. He told me I can have it for a few months, until my situation is straightened out. Best thing is that it’s already furnished, so I don’t need to bring anything but my clothes.”
“Damn, you work fast.”
“That’s why I’m the boss,” Miles says, winking at Aden, “and on top. Don’t forget it, my man.”
“How could I?” Aden says wryly.
“Ohmigod, this is sooooooooooooooo nice!”
Ryan grins while swatting Reese’s ass.
They are at the Buckingham on West 57th Street, around the corner from Central Park. Reese is on the oversize bed, hugging the fluffy pillows. Ryan is at the window, staring into the faltering twilight.
“Can we order room service?” she asks excitedly.
“You’re like a little kid. Whatever you want, Reecy, but I thought we’d take a stroll and get something to eat while we’re out.”
It is Monday night. Ryan’s been back close to a week now, and staying with Reese. She doesn’t seem to mind—not at all. The Rhyme, where she works, is closed Mondays and Tuesdays, so they decided to get away. Ryan needs some serious R&R, and Reese isn’t about to complain about an all-expenses-paid getaway.
An hour later, they find themselves in the Theater District, walking down Seventh Avenue towards Times Square. Ryan’s dressed casually in jeans and a light sweater; Reese wears her favorite low-rider jeans (the ones Ryan loves because he can see her ass tattoo without having her bend over), and a bright red tee shirt that accentuates her (as if they need accentuating) D-cup breasts; afro puffs traded for thick zig-zagging cornrows. They duck into a huge Asian eatery where they order spring rolls, stir-fried pork with orange and sesame, and Szechuan shrimp. Ryan sips on a Tsingtao beer; Reese, a Long Island Iced Tea.
“Nice to have somebody serve me for a change!” Reese exclaims.
“I hear that.”
The food arrives quickly. They dine while the conversation around them buzzes loudly.
“It’s nice to see you other than late at night after the bar closes,” Ryan says.
Reese laughs.
“Welcome to my world. Relationships—hell, everything is tough when you work tending bar.”
“Why?”
“Because our life is inverted from everybody else’s. When you’re awake, we’re asleep, and vice versa. We live the lives of vampires. Even going to the bank is tough. You gotta make it there before closing time, and that’s a hell of a thang when you sleep in until four!”
“I don’t hear you talk much about your friends,” Ryan says.
“Most of my friends work with me or down the street from me. Lacy is my gurl. She’s the other bartender at Rhyme, and Boo-Boo, the bouncer at Felix, is my drinking buddy.”
Ryan nods as he reaches for another helping of stir-fried pork.
“Boyfriend work at The Rhyme, too?”
“Excuse me?”
“Just asking.”
“About my boyfriend?” Reese’s nose ring sparkles in the dim restaurant. “I don’t have one. Unless you qualify.” She eyes him curiously. “Why?”
“Just asking.” Ryan grins. “You haven’t mentioned your past relationships, or any relationships for that matter.”
“Well, you never inquired,” Reese quips. A spring roll crunches under the weight of her teeth. “We spend a lot of time discussing your world.”
“Okay…”
“Don’t get defensive, I’m just saying…” She pats his hand.
“Anyway, tell me about your last boyfriend,” Ryan ventures. Reese stares at him for a while before nodding her head.
“Not much to tell. I was dating this guy named Cory for a while. He worked at The Rhyme for a minute as a bar back, but got fired for being late.”
“How long did the two of you date?”
“A few months.”
“What was he like?”
Reese purses her lips and emits a short grunt.
“I don’t know. Just a guy. Kind of quiet, except when he got around his friends. Then, of course, he thought he was the shit!”
“And you broke up because?”
“Um, there wasn’t one particular thing, to tell you the truth. He and I were just on different wavelengths, you know?”
Ryan is silent, watching her. The stud bisecting her right eyebrow captures his attention. He thinks about how he likes to put the metal in his mouth while making love.
“What?” Reese is asking, finding herself suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing. Just trying to imagine this Cory brutha—wondering what he looks like, the way he dresses, that’s all. Contemplating what your type is.”
Ryan’s cell phone vibrates. He glances down, checks it, and frowns.
Carly.
Calling from her cell phone.
>
Ryan checks the time.
Ten-eighteen P.M.
He silences it and returns his stare to Reese.
“As you were saying,” Ryan says.
“Actually, you were saying…”
Ryan’s mind is abruptly two hundred miles away…with his wife, whom he has not spoken to since being kicked out. He should take the call, he muses. But not here with Reese in his face.
Should he excuse himself? Head to the restroom where he can talk in private?
No.
Why should he jump just because Carly decides to reverse her silence?
He stares at Reese, smiles weakly as he asks if she is going to finish the Szechuan shrimp. She shakes her head. So he scrapes what remains onto his plate and attacks it with his chopsticks. Reese finishes her drink, then excuses herself to grab a smoke. Ryan is grateful for a moment alone.
Time he needs to think.
What if there’s something wrong with the baby?
What if she wants to take him back?
Doubtful.
He grabs another bite of the shrimp, washing it down with a fresh Tsingtao.
But what if…
Ryan checks the phone for a voice mail.
There isn’t one.
Stop it, he commands himself. You’re on a much needed vacation. His logic tells him he’s here because of Carly…because she kicked him out.
Not true exactly, but his faulty logic doesn’t autocorrect.
His cell vibrates again.
Carly.
This time, he answers it.
Listens intently, his brow furrowing, tension drawing itself around his features like a noose.
Moments later, Reese returns.
She can spot his distress from across the room.
“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately.
Ryan is signaling for the bill. He stands, pulling money from his wallet and throwing it haphazardly on the table.
“It’s Miles,” he answers, eyes cutting swiftly from left to right.
Reese shrugs. “And?”
“He’s in the hospital. Someone fucked him up real bad.”
Reese exhales a breath as she stares straight ahead.
“He’s on life support,” Ryan utters. “I’ve gotta go.”
Chapter 31
“I don’t fucking believe this! You’re actually leaving!”
Ryan ignores her. He never unpacked, other than his toiletry kit, which he now grabs from the bathroom and tosses into his bag.
Zips up as he turns to face Reese.
“And I don’t believe you’re actually tripping off this shit. I’ve got to go, Reese. This is an emergency!”
“Exactly whose emergency is it? I thought you were done with Miles. Wasn’t he the one who sucked your dick?”
Ryan glares at her.
“You can be so fucking ghetto sometimes. He’s my friend—”
“Was your friend—”
“He’s on life support, for Christ’s sake.”
“Oh, so now you care about what happens to the nigga? Two days ago, you were buggin’ about how he wouldn’t leave you alone! Wasn’t Miles the one leaving you those harassing messages? Now suddenly you’ve changed your tune.”
Ryan stares at her—standing there, hand on hip, her nipples poking through the red tee, a hint of dark round stomach flesh between the bottom of her shirt and the rise of denim. For a second, he ponders throwing Reese to the bed, stripping her jeans down to bare knees, and taking her from behind. The thought, however, is fleeting. Carly is in the forefront of his mind—her words twenty minutes ago cutting him to the bone.
“And what about our vacation, Ryan? Goddamn it, we just got here.”
“Look, I don’t have time to get into this, okay? I’m needed back home.”
Silence.
“Oh, so that’s it.” The smirk on Reese’s lips is unmistakable. “She calls, and you immediately run back home.”
Ryan shakes his head.
“You know what? Enjoy yourself, Reese. The room is already paid for.” He pulls out his billfold, peels off four fifties, and tosses them onto the bed. “This should cover your incidentals.” Reese makes no move to pick them up.
“What I want is for you to stay…here with me…and not run back to your wife just because she calls.”
“This isn’t about her,” Ryan retorts, grabbing his carry-on from the bed.
“Really? Seems like it is.”
“Well, it isn’t.” He heads for the door.
“I don’t want your money!”
Ryan stops.
Turns.
Puts down his bag.
Silently walks back to the bed, scooping up the bills he’d deposited there.
“Suit yourself.”
Then he’s out the door.
It is after one in the morning and Ryan stares at Carly. They stand by her SUV in the shadow of the hospital complex, a light breeze blowing Carly’s hair around. It is moments like this when he feels an overwhelming love for his wife. Seeing her now—arms folded across her chest as she leans against her Range Rover, a thinner more angular face, presumably from not eating, soft light eyes and creamy butterscotch skin—makes Ryan want to scoop her up in his arms and hold her tight.
He arrived by train hours ago. Spent time with Miles, even though he was so heavily sedated that he didn’t wake up, and with Carly and Olivia.
To say Miles looked horrible was an understatement.
He lay there, eyes swollen shut, concussion, jaw dislocated, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, on a ventilator…it was too much to take in. Ryan almost cried when he spied his friend.
Details sparse—Miles had left work around five and was headed for his car when he was viciously attacked. They’d found the top half of a splintered baseball bat by his rear fender, dipped in Miles’ blood.
The police interviewed Olivia, spoke to Carly, and had a short chat with Ryan once he arrived. Looking for leads. Persons of interest. Those who might wish Miles harm.
Aden had shown up…briefly…not staying for more than two minutes in the room conferring quietly with the nurse. Olivia watched him with hawk eyes, but kept her composure.
And her silence.
Aden spent some time huddled in the hallway with the police officers as they took a statement and asked pointed questions about his relationship with the victim.
The doctor is cautiously optimistic. Miles has serious injuries. They are watching the swelling in the brain and the lung puncture, in particular. He’ll make it—eventually he’ll be fine—but it will be a week, at the very least, before he is released, and much longer before Miles can consider himself back to normal.
Ryan sighs, then moves into Carly’s space and rubs her shoulders with his palms. She does not stop him. His hands descend, massaging her forearms and elbows.
“I’m sorry.”
Carly is unsure whether he refers to their situation or Miles’. So, she just nods.
She had filled him in on Miles and Olivia’s “breakup” while he was on the train. Ryan was in shock. The reality of everything coming to a head was sobering indeed. He had hugged Olivia when he first arrived. During their brief contact, he felt nothing. Her eyes said it all—whatever had transpired between them—whatever had gone down between them once upon a time—dead and gone.
She briefly smiled, thanked him for coming, but that was it.
The wind picks up, chilling them both.
“So,” he says, attempting a half smile, “what do you make of this?”
“Of what?”
“All of this?” he responds.
Carly ponders his question before responding.
“It’s surreal. Like a soap opera. It would be somewhat comical if it weren’t happening to me…to us…”
Ryan nods.
“Lately, I’ve been thinking about Barbados. About how the four of us were inseparable back then. About the incredible time we shared. I remember while on vacation watching th
ose around us and seeing the look of pure jealousy on their faces, as if they could never fathom having this kind of closeness with another couple. Perhaps I was just naïve to think our closeness, that wonderful bond of friendship, could truly exist…let alone last.”
“No, Carly, don’t think that.”
“No?” Carly glances up into Ryan’s eyes. “Look what you and Olivia both did to your spouses, and to each other. And now look what has come back to haunt her. We’ll never be what we once were.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Ryan, I, more than anyone here, would give anything to go back to the way things were. But look around you! Miles is in the hospital. His wife left him because she caught him in bed with another man! You cheated on me with our best friend. You’ve been secretly running around here and there, most recently in New York City, probably with your new woman.”
“Carly, hold on.”
She turns, unlocks her door with her remote.
“Where’s your car, Ryan?” she asks.
“Across the way.”
“It’s late. I’ll drive you there.” As an afterthought, she adds, “Don’t need two attacks in one day.”
The interior warms quickly.
Carly turns to face her husband.
“Can I ask you something? Did you know about Miles?”
Ryan is silent.
“I don’t get it; I really don’t. How does something like that happen? I mean, they were married for God’s sake…five years, just like us. And all of us were best friends. So how does that shit go down right under our noses?”
“I don’t have the answers, Carly. I truly don’t.”
“Did he come on to you?”
The question catches him off guard. Ryan gulps.
“Oh, my God…when?”
“Carly, please let’s not do this.”
“Are you kidding? Ryan, I’m so fucking numb right now I can’t feel anything, you hear me? If there’s any chance of us starting over, I need to know. Everything…and I need to know now. No more games. No more trying to protect me. That time is gone. Ryan, look at me.” She takes his hand in hers. “If you love me—if you want to stay married to me—if you want for me to have this baby, to have a family—if you desire for us to move on and start over, then you need to tell me…everything…now.”