Facade: Facade

by Ashley Suzanne

  “I was always with Jacoby,” I whisper to myself.

  Panic soon sets in. If in my heart, I was always with Jacoby, then what I did with Anger the other night was a clear violation of Jacoby’s trust and I’m a cheater. My heart swells with guilt and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry is taking me over.

  As I weigh the pros and cons of telling him what happened, the knot in my stomach grows. I know if he were to tell me that he fooled around with someone, I would be upset and might not forgive him. Fuck, when I thought that he was screwing Taylor, I wouldn’t even consider being with him and here I am, the pot, calling the kettle black.

  I pick up my phone, ready to call and spill the beans, and take whatever punishment for my indiscretion he deems necessary, but I stop myself. I am not a liar and I don’t condone lying, but he hasn’t asked me if I’ve been monogamous, so not telling him is more of an omission than an outright lie.

  I pace around my bedroom, still debating on what kind of person I want to be. Jacoby brings out the absolute best in me, except for when I feel hurt; I lash out. If I tell him, I will potentially ruin what we have before it really gets started. If I keep it to myself, I’ll carry this guilt around until it eats through me.

  I need a nap. I need to sleep on this. Whatever I decide to do about it can’t be decided in a matter of minutes. This is my future.

  Jacoby is my future.

  I lie down, trying to force myself to sleep, but my brain keeps playing both outcomes over and over again in my head. There is no right way to deal with what I’ve done; no right way to tell him … or not.

  Sleep finally comes, and thankfully I thought to set an alarm on my phone, or I would’ve overslept and not been ready for when Jacoby is set to arrive.

  I have a few hours before my date, so I go through the typical grooming ritual; shower, lotion, makeup and hair. When I’m satisfied with the results, I rummage through my closet looking for the perfect dress to wear.

  Skimming through what would be appropriate, I pluck a little black dress off the hanger, throwing it over my head. Something tells me to pair it with the turquoise dangly earrings Mira got me for Christmas, along with the matching necklace. I love my best friend dearly, and these aren’t my style, but they look absolutely amazing against my skin.

  I’m not exactly sure why I’m nervous, but the butterflies in my stomach have taken flight. Really, I’m going out with the only people in the world who know the real me; the person that hides behind the façade. These three people know I’m bat shit crazy and love me anyway.

  I pull a bottle of wine from the fridge and pour the rose-colored liquid into a glass. After drinking half the bottle, I look at the clock on the microwave and realize that it’s ten after six. It’s not like Jacoby to be late; if anything, the guy is perpetually early. I’m almost positive he has the suit picked out for his own funeral, complete with his eulogy typed in twelve-point font in the front pocket. Yeah, he’s that anal about being prepared.

  Another twenty minutes and I’m still sitting at home alone, with no call or text from Jacoby. Admitting defeat, I pull the pins from my hair and kick off my shoes. Flopping onto the couch, not giving two shits about being ladylike in a dress, I sprawl my feet across the arm and turn on the TV.

  Me – reschedule dinner? Something came up. U and Sky have fun. Congrats. Love u.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jacoby

  Work didn’t go exactly as planned. As soon as I walked in the door, I was ambushed by twenty different requests; signatures on expense checks, approval of plans and three urgent voicemails from my Vegas client. It always works out this way; the minute I think I’m going to have a slow day, everything pops up all at once.

  I make my way through the mountains of work that have piled up on my desk over the last week while on the phone with the Vegas client. He’s telling me that his first round of permits has been approved, which is a total shock to me. I was almost positive that he would have been shut down in the first round.

  I’m working on the last of the proposals when Tiffany saunters into my office. I’m not blind; this girl wants me. It’s too bad that I have no interest in her, because she’s very beautiful, but simply beautiful can’t even stand in Kylee’s shadow.

  “Mr. Roberts, there are some gentlemen in the lobby that need to speak with you immediately,” she timidly says, glancing behind her.

  “Why couldn’t you just intercom me?” If this is a ploy to get me alone, I’m going to have to reconsider her employment status with this company.

  “Sir, you really need to come to the lobby.” Tiffany turns around, walking toward the lobby and I follow, curiosity killing me. The swing of her hips is absent, replaced with a haste walk. I’m not proud of it, but of course I’ve noticed her strut. I am a man after all.

  “Jacoby Roberts,” I say, sticking my hand out to two men wearing cheap, ill-fitting suits. There’s no possible way these men are potential clients. The way their clothes hang from their bodies without having been tailored tells me they don’t have the kind of money my firm deals with.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Roberts. I’m Agent Easter and this is my partner, Agent Hanks,” the taller man announces, pointing to the shorter man to his left. “We’re sorry to bother you, but we’ve received information that you might possibly be involved in the city contracts issue that’s taking place in Detroit. We’re going to need you to come with us.”

  My mind is reeling. I haven’t done a deal in Detroit in over a year. I’ve heard all about these issues—it’s been all over the news—but I didn’t even do a city contract. All the work I’ve done has been with private parties and above board.

  “There must be some kind of mistake. I’m not sure where you got your information, but I can assure you that you have the wrong person.”

  “Mr. Roberts, I apologize if you thought that my telling you to come with us was a request. It’s a direct order.” The short man reaches for my arm, which I pull back. There’s no way in hell they’re about to cart me out of my office, my company, looking like some kind of criminal.

  “I’m going to my office to grab my jacket, I’ll be right back.” I turn around and this time the tall man grabs my arm.

  “Sir, you’re going to need to cooperate or we will have to place you under arrest for hindering an official investigation. As of right now, you’re just being detained for questioning. It would be in your best interest to turn around and walk out with us peacefully.” Giving in to his command, I turn and follow them out of the building.

  “Tiffany, please call my attorney. His number is in my phone. It’s inside the top drawer of my desk,” I request. The tall man places his card on the desk in front of Tiffany.

  “He can reach me here,” the short man says.

  Instead of going to a police station, like I had assumed we would, the car parks in an underground parking garage somewhere in downtown Detroit. Surrounded by both agents, we walk into the building and take the elevator to the third floor.

  Anticipating my attorney to walk through the doors at any moment, I sit relaxed in the chair that’s to the side of the tall man’s desk.

  As I’m waiting, it occurs to me that I have a date with Kylee later this afternoon. Glancing at the clock on the cement wall, it’s already half past five; there’s no way in hell I’ll make it.

  I’m about to ask one of the agents if I can use the phone to place a quick call to Kylee, when my overpaid, underdressed attorney shows up. I mean really, who shows up for a possible interrogation wearing jeans and a polo shirt?

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I presume you’ve kept my client comfortable while waiting for council?” I might pay a small fortune to keep him on retainer and he might be wearing something casual, but his ever present cocky attitude is still intact. It’s the small things, right?

  We’re led back to a small room straight out of a Law and Order episode, equipped with a two way mirror and conference table.

  “Mr. Robe
rts, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Agent Hanks addresses me, reading over a small pocket-sized notepad. “Last year, you had an employee by the name of James Graham, correct?”

  “Yes. Mr. Graham was an employee of mine until he was terminated for unethical behavior. What does this have to do with him or his employment with my company?”

  “Well, he was recently arrested on charges of embezzlement, fraud, accepting money under false pretenses and bribery. After reviewing the files that were seized from his office, many of his current contacts were made during his employment with your company. It’s plausible that you were aware of this activity, possibly even part of it, and Mr. Graham left your company, taking these clients with him.”

  I stare at my attorney, who’s thinking exactly how far he’s going to shove his foot up this Fed’s ass. Judging by the gleam in his eyes, it’s going to be pretty far; the Fed’s probably going to taste leather.

  “Excuse me for just one second. Are you telling me that you’ve detained my client because of an ex-employee who was terminated for unethical behavior? The same ex-employee that you already have in custody for a slew of charges? And you found it necessary to take my client, an upstanding citizen with strong ties to the community, into custody to question him on the same charges?” I stifle a chuckle as the smoke billows from his ears; someone isn’t happy to be called downtown for a wild goose chase.

  “Yes,” Agent Easter chokes out, taken aback by the frustration of my attorney.

  “I’ll tell you what. We’re going to excuse this little injustice and fishing expedition, and call it bad judgment on your part. I’m going to take my client and return to my daughter’s birthday party.” My attorney stands, eyeing me to join him.

  I can no longer suppress the laugh that’s been building up, letting it out as we walk past the agents on our way out the door. Whoever said that paying a retainer for a good attorney is a waste of money has never met mine.

  “Have a good evening, gentlemen,” I say, turning around with a “How does that feel?” smirk on my face. I’m not one for getting self-righteous, but these fuckers had it coming.

  My attorney drives me back to Ann Arbor so I can get my car. The ride is quiet, except for the occasional phone call he receives. The clock on the radio reads a little after seven. If I knew Kylee’s number, I would call her and explain, but it’s going to have to wait until I get to her apartment.

  Once I’m back in my car, the traffic laws seem to not exist—speeding, running red lights and stop signs—I’m a man on a mission.

  Operation Pray Kylee Doesn’t Kill Me is in full effect.

  Getting stopped at a train, I curse, knowing there’s no way around it, and it’s a long-ass train. Thankfully it’s moving quickly and I won’t be at a standstill too long.

  “Hurry up, mother fucker. Hurry,” I slam my hands on the steering wheel, absentmindedly tapping my thumbs in anticipation.

  Gunning the accelerator as soon as the train passes, Kylee’s apartment complex is within view. I barely hit the brakes when I pull into the driveway. Flying into a parking space and shutting off the ignition, a sense of relief comes over me, until I’m face to face with a fiery redhead who’s none too happy to see me.

  “Oh, so you didn’t forget about our date,” Kylee yells, slamming her palm into my chest as I’m getting out of the car.

  This day just can’t get any better, can it?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kylee

  A little after eight, I try Jacoby’s phone again. In my entire life, I’ve never been this upset and angry at the same time, not even with my father after I caught him. Jacoby better have a good fucking reason for standing me up.

  On the third ring, the call is connected. I don’t give him an opportunity to say hello, my aggression is fueling this conversation and he’s not going to get a chance to talk around his fuck up. “Oh, so you do know how to answer your fucking phone. You have some nerve, Jacoby!” I yell.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to answer the call. Jacoby’s preoccupied at the moment,” a familiar female voice states on the other end of the line. I glance at my screen, just making sure I’m not imagining a girl answering his phone.

  “Who is this?” I try to remain calm, but that’s going to go out the window really quick. The phone keeps slipping from my ear; my hands trembling in anger. I turn on the speaker phone and set it on my lap, trying to keep the tears that are threatening to fall at bay.

  “This is Tiffany. Is this Kylee?” Oh, so this bitch remembers who I am. She better never forget it.

  “Yes, Tiffany, this is Kylee. Where is Jacoby and why do you have his phone?” What do they teach in anger management? Counting. Counting is supposed to work.

  “He left it here,” Tiffany calmly states, like it’s the most normal explanation possible. One .. Two .. Three .. Four .. Five .. Fuck this.

  “And where is here, exactly, Tiffany?” I’m two seconds from climbing through the line and wringing her fucking neck.

  “At the office.” I’m getting the feeling that she’s enjoying this. Not only is she only answering my direct question and not giving me anything else to go on, but her voice is laced with a smug little attitude.

  I’ve had about as much as I can take. I stab the end call button. I can’t keep listening to her voice, it’s going to drive me insane; even more than I already am. I can’t think of a logical explanation as to why Jacoby would have left his phone at the office with Tiffany.

  My anger has quickly taken over any sadness, and I’m ready to have some very heated words with a specific CEO. I go to my bedroom, tear the dress off my body and exchange it with a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. If I’m going to do this, I sure as hell won’t ruin a nice dress. Oh yeah, it’s about to get real. I don’t take too kindly to people breaking promises, especially when they made them less than forty-eight hours ago.

  Shoving my phone in my pocket and grabbing my car keys, I’m out the door and literally running down the stairs. Once I’m at the bottom, I push the door so hard that it connects with the wall behind it, cracking off some of the brick exterior. Pushing the unlock button on the keypad, my headlights blink letting me know it’s worked.

  Barely to the driver door, I see lights whip into my section of the complex and pull into a spot near my building. Taking a closer look, my gut twists and I can feel my heartbeat hammering in my ears. That mother fucker has a lot of nerve to just show up here after standing me up.

  “Oh, so you didn’t forget about our date,” I seethe, pushing Jacoby in the chest as he climbs out of his Lexus.

  “Ky, please. Not now. I’ve had a hell of a day. Can we talk about this upstairs?” Jacoby asks, sounding exhausted and frustrated. I’m not playing into this game. I’ve seen this too many times.

  “There’s no need for that. You can go home. We have nothing to talk about. Ever.” I turn my back to him, click the lock button on the keypad and walk toward my apartment.

  “Kylee, seriously? Come on.” His footsteps are heavy as he walks behind me. I want nothing more than to punch him in the face, but the classy lady in me won’t allow it.

  “No. Just no,” I whisper, picking up my pace, which he’s matching. I can’t seem to get away quick enough. This isn’t going the way it should.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. Please, let’s just talk.” I turn around and stop so quickly, he’s millimeters from me by the time he realizes I’ve stopped.

  “Oh. Nothing wrong? Right? Just a word of advice for your next relationship, Jacoby. The only Tiffany that should between us is a little blue box, not answering my boyfriend’s mother fucking phone, and the last time I checked, little blue boxes don’t fucking talk!”

  Jacoby just stands there giving no indication that he’s going to respond. I roll my eyes, turn back and continue the short walk to the main entrance. Reaching out for the door handle, Jacoby finally decides it’s time to speak. Whatever he mutters, I can’t make it out over
the howling winds and traffic on the road.

  “What?” I ask, not that I really care what he’s going to say. Okay, who am I kidding? I care and I want to know what or who was so much more important to him tonight than me.

  “I was picked up at my office by the Feds,” he whispers. My jaw drops as does my stomach. Is he a criminal? Did I get myself into something I won’t be able to get out of? All kinds of things are running through my head, and he’s right, we need to go upstairs to talk. Well, unless he’s a murderer.

  “For what?” I’m praying he’s not connected to a carjacking ring or a serial killer sleeper cell. I know it sounds absurd, but I’ve watched those detective shows. I know what happens in the real world.

  “To sum it up, making bribes for government contracts.” He casts his eyes to the ground, and every time he sighs, it breaks my heart.

  “Come on,” I say, opening the door and heading up, not bothering to wait for him; he’ll come when he’s ready.

  Once we’re both inside, I shrug out of my sweatshirt and kick off my shoes. Jacoby discards his shoes in the same manner, but it’s then that I realize he’s not wearing a jacket. It’s the middle of winter and below freezing and he doesn’t have a coat?

  “Jacoby, why aren’t you wearing a coat or something?”

  “I had to leave it at the office when the Feds came to pick me up. It’s such a mess, Ky.” Jacoby doesn’t stop in the living room, but walks back to my bedroom.

  He strips down to his boxers and climbs under the covers. I stand in the doorway, unsure of what to do. This is one of those make it or break it moments, I can feel it in my heart. I either need to be in this with him, and give him the benefit of the doubt, or kick him out of my house right now. Remembering the last time I was so horribly wrong, I choose the only option I really have.

  Walking to the other side of the bed, I take off my jeans, leaving me in only a tank top and panties. I scoot into the bed where Jacoby immediately wraps his arms around my body, pulling me closer to him. He’s holding me so tight, it’s hard to breathe, but this is the calmest I’ve felt since I left his house earlier today.