by Claire Adams
Perfection #4
By Claire Adams and Shawna Gleason
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Claire Adams
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Chapter One
Lilly
“We can drive all the way to the airport without talking to one another or you can behave like a grown up and tell me what the hell happened back there? I can’t read your mind, Lilly.” Bullet growled at me obviously confused and hurt by my actions. I did feel a little foolish now but half an hour ago, I was ready to run as fast as I could in the opposite direction and leave him behind. Was I really going to freak out because some hole-in-the-wall waitress made vague accusations about Bullet?
Did I really believe that he was capable of that kind of violence? If I didn’t know what I knew about Bullet, like that he had lied to me and that he didn’t blink twice when it came to kinky sex, I would say no, never. But I did know more than that, didn’t I? Yes, sadly I did. I just spent the weekend with two of his freaky friends. Thankfully he had the decency to send them home when he found out I would not play along.
“Amelia Sheffield…what about her, Bullet?”
“What about her? Was she at the restaurant? Is that with this is about?”
“No, I have never met her but the server, some girl named Judith, lost it on me, in front of the entire restaurant. She told me to tell you that it isn’t over. She says you need to leave Amelia alone. That you…that you raped her.”
“That’s what you think of me? That I would want or need to rape some poor helpless girl? Wow, Lilly. Thanks for that.” Bullet’s jaw popped and the air crackled with tension. After a minute he continued. “That’s bullshit. I didn’t rape that girl¸ woman, whatever you want to call her. I don’t know any Judith but Amelia came on to me and I turned her down. End of story. Next thing I know, I’ve got some guy calling me claiming to be an attorney saying I should pay up or they will sue me.”
I could hear the steely anger in his voice. “That’s it? They tried to sue you? For what?”
“She said that I touched her inappropriately and some other crap—none of which was true. Like I said, she came on to me but the next thing I know is I’m getting phone calls. I finally told the bastard who kept calling to call my attorney and I didn’t hear anything from them after that. From what I hear, I am not the only doctor she’s made accusations against but if you want to believe her, you go right ahead.”
He sounded angry and if he told the truth, he had a reason to feel angry. I guess from his perspective, freaking out like I did showed him how much I didn’t trust him. But I didn’t, did I? Can he blame me? I decided to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the ride and maybe try to talk to him a little more on the plane. I stole sideway glances at him, his thick, dark hair, his perfect profile. He didn’t look at me but kept his eyes on the road. I sighed, gave up, and stared out the window.
We arrived at the small airport and a valet came out to help us unload our suitcases. Still not talking, we walked into the airport and headed to the check in counter. Bullet presented our tickets and after being checked off the list and leaving our baggage, we strolled toward the concourse. I tried not to think about the fool I made of myself but the fact was, I had plenty of unanswered questions. I stopped at Gate 5 but Bullet kept walking. “Isn’t this our gate?”
“It’s your gate. I’m going home. It’s a few gates down.” His hands were slung in the pocket and he rocked back on his heels nervously. Oddly, he extended his hand to me as if he were saying goodbye to a cousin, not a lover. I didn’t take it; I stared at him.
“So that’s it then?” I asked quietly.
“I guess so. If you change your mind about the surgery, just let me know. Or you can call my office and Page will set it up for you.” His voice sounded icy, distant. It was hard to believe that the guy standing in front of me would have saved me from a bear. I guess I was leaving that guy behind at the cabin on Blue Lake.
“Okay, Bullet. Well, thank you for the…um…cabin, the trip. It was a beautiful place.” I felt my eyes water and my voice crack.
With a nod and his hands back in his pockets, he walked away, leaving me standing at Gate 5. I wiped away a random tear and flopped down in a nearby chair, ready to go home. I didn’t have long to wait, the announcer called for passengers on my flight in just a few minutes. I found my window seat, buckled up and closed my eyes. I didn’t want things to end like this but there was nothing I could do about it now. I had clearly hurt his feelings. Why was I so willing to believe a stranger? Why hadn’t I stood up to her and confronted her?
On the way home, I vowed to call my attorney, Richard Soklov when I got in. I wanted as many details as I could get on Amelia Sheffield. My heart screamed, “Trust him!” but my brain said, “I need proof!” I’d get the proof, one way or another. I needed to know what happened.
I stepped off the plane and went through the usual procedure, pick up the bags and call for a cab. On the way home, I called Kate. “Hey! Guess who is home? Yep, I’m heading home from the airport tonight. Want to come over for some Chinese? I have so much to tell you!”
“Gee, I would love to Lil, but Riley is playing on live television tonight. For that local news channel, Channel 16. Hey! You want to come join us?” She sounded so excited, still caught up in Riley’s celebrity status. I would have thought Riley was out of her system by now but apparently not. As I have said before, there must be something more than meets the eye with that guy.
“I am beat, Kate, but tell Riley I will tune in. What time?” She gave me the details and I made a mental note to tune in. I needed to call my attorney but I didn’t want to do that in the cab. This would be for his ears only.
Once I made it home, I tossed everything down and called Soklov first thing. He seemed eager to help, as he should. I paid his retainer fee every month without fail. I gave him the names and information, and he promised his detective would get to the bottom of it in the next couple of days.
“Shouldn’t be too difficult since he’s a public figure. So, should I expect to see his name again? Say on a prenuptial agreement?” I laughed at that idea. Soklov was always inappropriate when it came to social issues but he did such a great job, I overlooked his flaws.
“Hell no. I just want to know. Thanks, Richard.” I hung up the phone before that conversation got too awkward. I fell on my couch thankful to be home. I went ahead and put the television on channel 16. I had loads of laundry to do and I probably needed to go grocery shopping but right now, I just wanted a nap. I curled up with my cashmere throw but sleep wouldn’t come. All I could think of was Bullet. “Damn!” I said to no one in particular. I dragged myself off the couch and decided that I needed a shower. Maybe I could wash his memory away. I doubted it but it was a good place to start.
Chapter Two
Bullet
By the time I got home, I wasn’t pissed off at Lilly anymore, just myself. Yeah, it sucked that she didn’t have the decency to ask me about what happened—she just assumed that what she heard was the truth. Could I blame her, honestly?
Regardless of whose fault it was, it st
ung. I poured myself a glass of bourbon and flipped on my laptop. I had hundreds of emails but only one really stood out to me—it was from Slate, my brother. I didn’t open it, just swished my bourbon in the glass then swallowed. I decided to call Page and check my schedule for the rest of the week. I knew I would be busy but I was okay with that. The less time I had to think about Lilly, the better.
Page’s perkiness put me into work mode and I pulled up my online calendar and together, we went through it day by day. “You know, Mrs. Fuentes has been missing you. I thought she would ring my phone off the hook while you were gone.” I groaned but Page didn’t notice. In a quiet, careful voice she added, “Would you like me to block off some time, you know, for an extended consultation with Mrs. Fuentes?” I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it hardly believing what I heard. Was Page trying to hook me up with Carmen? Surely she was joking, right? When I didn’t say anything Page spoke again. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“This really isn’t any of your business, Page. Who I see and when has nothing to do with you. You stick to scheduling the appointments and I will take care of the rest.” What the hell was going on? My own assistant was trying to pimp me out.
“No problem Dr. Steinmann. I just want to be of assistance to you. If you’ll notice on Friday I put you down for 2:30 with Dr. Pennington...” The rest of the conversation was pretty standard but I was ready to get off the phone with her. Did I have such a crappy reputation that my own assistant would assume that I wanted to hook up with Carmen Fuentes? I just couldn’t think about it anymore. Naturally, my thoughts went to Lilly.
I hung up the phone with Page and walked over to the violin case on the credenza. I opened it admiring the dark shiny wooden instrument. I remembered her face as she played it; how utterly transformed she had been. Obviously the instrument needed some work but Lilly had pulled beauty from those warped strings — she had talent and passion. I scribbled a note asking my housekeeper to mail the instrument to Lilly. I didn’t want to see her, not right now. She confused things — she confused me. I was pretty sure by her response to Amelia Sheffield’s friend that I ranked on the bottom of her “must call” list. We had only been back a few hours but I halfheartedly hoped she would call me. I fantasized about what she would say. “Bullet, come over now. My body aches for you!” Yeah, that wasn’t likely to happen.
Having my calendar squared away I went back to my laptop and perused my emails. I stared at the email from Slate and clicked on it. It was short and to the point — typical Slate.
Brother, it has been too long. We need to talk. I want to talk. Call me when you can. You have my number. — Slate
Before I could type back an appropriate response the doorbell rang. I set my glass down and peeked through the peephole. Man, I can’t catch a break today. It was my red-haired neighbor, the one who liked visiting me when her husband wasn’t at home. In the past I had obliged her sexual fantasies but today I was in no mood to play. Huh, that’s weird. Knowing that I was home, she waved at me from the peephole. I could see she wore her terry cloth cover up, the one she sported over her bathing suit. Sometimes she came over without the bikini, just a cover-up. I absently wondered what she was wearing today but I wasn’t curious enough to find out. I opened the door and smiled politely, hoping she would get the message without me actually telling her to leave.
“Hi doctor. I see you’ve been gone for a little while. Did you enjoy your vacation?”
“Yes, it was quite refreshing.” I didn’t move or invite her in. She looked past me and into the house assuming that I was entertaining someone, perhaps a lady friend. Seeing no one there she looked in the driveway and frowned at me.
“Are you going to invite me in?” She gave me a brilliant smile but I was unmoved in my resolve.
“I’m afraid I can’t today but thanks for stopping by.” I gave her an odd little wave and tried to shut the door.
“Oh, you must be leaving. Sorry I interrupted you.” Well, I might as well nip this in the bud now.
“No, I’m not going anywhere I just think we should cool it. Do you know what I mean?” I leaned against the door frame with my arms crossed, looking down at her. I hoped she would agree with me and make this easy but I could see that was not going to happen.
“You bastard! You think you can just throw me away, that you can just send me away?” She stomped her petite foot at me, her hands clinched into fists. I had not expected this kind of response.
“I don’t know what you think is going on here but you have been coming over here to see me, not the other way around. I think you’re a beautiful woman — I always have but I’m not comfortable with this situation anymore. I hope you understand.” The compliment seemed to soothe her wounded ego. She gave me a sad smile and left without saying anything. That’s the end of that — hopefully.
I closed the door and watched her walk away from the window. She stopped once and looked back but went home without further fuss. I did not want to embarrass her or make her feel ashamed about what we had been doing. I couldn’t even explain it to myself. It needed to be over. I went back to the computer for a third time and reread my brother’s message. The easy thing to do would be to bang off a smartass response but I had been doing the easy thing long enough. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contact list. It was a shame that I did not know my own brother’s phone number.
I might regret it later but I tapped the screen and called him. “Hey Slate, it’s me.” The beginning of our conversation felt awkward for both of us. Strange how we were now, compared to how we had been. I missed my brother and yet, I knew I had not quite forgiven him, not that he had asked.
“I guess you are wondering why I wrote you, now after all this time. How long has it been since we’ve seen one another?”
“It’s been a couple of years,” I offered casually. It had been four years actually; it would be four years this Christmas.
“How have you been?”
“I, uh, I’m great, Slate. Is that why you called me? To ask me how I was? You sounded urgent in your email. I thought something was wrong.” Slate sighed into the phone; I pretended not to hear him.
“Bullet, I want to say—Gretchen and I both want to say, we are sorry. I wish I could take it back but I can’t. She’s my wife, we have kids—you have nephews that you haven’t seen. It’s time for this animosity between us to end. Gretchen and I have a life together but I want my brother back. Believe it or not, I love you and I truly am sorry for everything, brother.” He’d said it all in one breath, as if he could hardly wait to get it out, but I knew Slate meant it. Big and burly, Slate wasn’t the kind of guy to shower you with fake compliments or offer up false apologies. That was one reason why their betrayal had been so hard to deal with. It just wasn’t like my brother. I had not expected it. I blamed him—then her and then both of them until I hated them, quite frankly. It was true that Gretchen and I weren’t engaged—hell, we’d hardly started dating, but I sure had fallen hard for her and her glossy lips. Other than Laura Patrick in middle school, Gretchen had been the love of my life. I thought of Lilly’s sweet, heart-shaped face. No, I had screwed that up too.
I held the phone in my hand, very conscious of the fact that I had complete control of the situation. I could very justly cuss him out and hang up forever or I could accept his apology.
“I want to forgive you but it’s hard. I know that isn’t what you want to hear but I am being honest with you. I don’t mean to talk about Gretchen—I mean your wife, but I expected women to do stuff like that. Not my own brother.”
“I know, I understand. I should have come to you right at the beginning when I knew how I felt—how she felt, but I didn’t. Do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?”
I sighed.
“Of course I will—you’re my brother. I miss you too.” That was it.
Everything was right as rain again, at least for Slate. He chatted on, excited about his oldest
boy playing T-ball and he sounded as if a load had been lifted, a heavy, heartbreaking load, and I felt good about giving him that. But I was far from fixed. Slate didn’t know that I had spent years cultivating a bohemian lifestyle, that now, again I found something real and was about to lose it—lose her. How could he know it? During a pause in the conversation I said, “You know how you asked me how I was doing?”
“Yeah?”
I swallowed the last of my bourbon. “Not too good. You see, there’s this girl…”
Chapter Three
Lilly
A few days after I had returned home, I walked up the steps to my apartment with arm loads of fresh food. I had put this task off as long as I could and quite frankly was tired of eating out. Kate was coming over later and I couldn’t wait to see her. I had everything I needed to make a delicious, cheesy lasagna. I was surprised to see a package sitting on my doorstep. I slid the key in the lock and stepped over it. I quickly deposited my bags of groceries and went to retrieve my surprise. I didn’t remember ordering anything. I stared at the return label — this was from Bullet Steinmann. What in the world could this be?
I set the box on the counter and stared at it as I put my groceries away. The soreness from my weekend with Bullet had faded but the memory of him had not. I would never admit this to anyone but I didn’t wash my black silk lingerie because it smelled like his cologne. Once everything was tucked away I grabbed a knife and cut away the packing tape. Carefully I removed the packing supplies and stared at my gift. My hand flew to my mouth and I caught my breath. I recognized the violin — the one from the antique shop.
When would he have pulled that off? I thought back to our day in Blue Lake, me running to the car, Bullet closing the trunk. Oh, wow. I’m such a jerk. As if I didn’t know that already. My attorney called me yesterday and let me know what he had discovered. Apparently Amelia Sheffield had a habit of taking professionals to court. So far she had sued a contractor, two doctors and a health food store manager. Even though she was only 20, Miss Sheffield had been involved in four litigations — and she had only won one of those. She had no job and had dropped out of college. I guess suing people was her job. By believing the crazy server I had proven to Bullet that I wasn’t much of a friend.