Annihilate Me 2: Omnibus (Complete Vols. 1-3, Annihilate Me 2)

by Christina Ross

  “What I find interesting,” Tootie said, “is that the last time we spoke, which was here, I wondered aloud when you two were going to have a child. Alex said that you both were going to wait for a few years and enjoy your, uh, marriage before settling down and having a family. But you didn’t. You were likely pregnant when I saw you that night. You know, when you were drinking martinis…”

  “I probably was pregnant then, but that doesn’t mean that I knew about it, Tootie—which I didn’t.”

  “Yes, yes—early days and all that. But still, you were both so set on not having children, I naturally thought ‘birth control.’” When she said that, she actually spoke in a whisper, as if there was something wrong with using contraception.

  “I remember that night,” I said. “I believe you called me a brood mare for the Wenn empire.”

  “I said what?”

  “You said exactly that.”

  “I would never be so grotesque.”

  “I’m afraid you were,” Addy said.

  “Well,” Tootie said as her face flushed. “I must have had a cocktail or something, because I certainly don’t remember saying anything that gauche. That doesn’t sound like me at all. I mean, I just wouldn’t go there.”

  “But you did.”

  “And maybe you’d like something to drink now,” Addy said. “We’ve only been here for twenty minutes or so, and you’ve had nothing to settle your nerves. So, how about if we leave Jennifer and Alex to themselves and get you something to drink?”

  “So I will become less of a monster?” she asked. “So I won’t say such horrid things as ‘brood mare’?”

  Lady, you so don’t need a drink to keep you from being you, I thought, but I said, “I think a cocktail would look great on you, Tootie. Just be careful not to overdo it. I’d hate to see you on Page Six looking, you know…questionable.”

  “I’ve never been on Page Six. My set doesn’t do the Six. But I see that you’ve been on it several times.”

  “So I have. By the way, are you having any luck with your memoire?”

  “With my what?”

  “The last time we spoke, you brought up this memoire of yours that you were never going to write, but that people were urging you to write. I offered you Wenn Publishing and said that we could get your book into airport kiosks. You remember? I said that we could set up signings at airports all over the country. It was to be a straight-to-paperback kind of thing because, if you remember, you pointed out that Wenn’s stock was falling at that point. Which it isn’t at this point.”

  “I wonder how much of Wenn’s recent success has to do with Stephen Rowe,” she said. “No offense, Alex, but the stock is up…”

  “It’s up because of the SlimPhone,” Alex said. “And because of the rounds of interviews I did about the phone before we got on that plane to Singapore. Not to be immodest, Tootie, but it was those interviews—and the strong sales of our phone—that lifted our stock, and that continue to lift it. I can assure you that Stephen Rowe had nothing to do with it.”

  “And there’s that tension again,” Tootie said. “Why do I always sense tension whenever we talk these days, Alex? It never was that way before.”

  “Before what?” he said.

  “Well, you know.”

  “Actually, I don’t. Tootie, I think it’s about time that I took a hard line with you. Jennifer is my wife. She’s the love of my life. She means everything to me. It’s clear to all of us here that, for whatever reason, you don’t like her. But I’m here to tell you this—going forward, if you come over to speak to me, you will treat my wife with respect. If you can’t, then please don’t come forward. This stops now. Jennifer and I will find other ways to speak to Addy because he has been nothing but supportive of our relationship, our marriage, and our loss. I’m shutting this down now, because frankly? You continue to go too far.”

  “But your mother and I were best friends,” she said.

  “My mother is dead. And I never loved her.”

  “You never loved her? What a terrible thing to say.”

  “But you know that it’s true. You’ve always known.”

  “Alex, let’s not walk away like this. You must know that I only have your best interests at heart.”

  “If that was true—if you really did—you’d be happy for me. You’d recognize that with Jennifer in my life, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. Now,” he said, glancing up at Addy, who was looking at him keenly with a sense of respect, “I hope you both have a fine evening. As for us, we’re going to get a drink. Sooner rather than later. I suggest you do the same. Goodnight.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  “Thank you for that,” I said to Alex as Addy led a disillusioned Tootie away from us. “That was very kind of you. I know that you have a history with her that stretches back to your childhood, and I wish that it hadn’t come to that.”

  “Same here, but she deserved it, and I should have done it sooner. There’s no need for you to feel on edge whenever Tootie is around. I’m sick of her treatment of you. I’m over it.”

  “Let’s hope that she is, too” I said. “Because I’m always willing to go toe-to-toe with dear Tootie if she pulls that shit with me again.” I looked around us. “Any signs of Epifania yet?”

  “Not yet. But I have to say that I’m surprised at whose eye I did just catch.”

  “Whose?”

  “My cousin Brock is here.”

  “The one you told me about in Maine? Where is he?”

  “At the other end of the bar. And now he’s coming toward us. This should be interesting. I told you that he wanted a job at Wenn.”

  “I think you should give him one.”

  “We’ll see,” Alex said. “I just hope that the Wharton experience didn’t turn him into a jerk.”

  “Why do you think it might have?”

  “Let’s just say that Brock doesn’t lack self-confidence. You’ll see. And when it comes to Wharton grads, most of the ones I’ve met have been entitled assholes who feel as if you’re doing yourself a favor if you hire them. With that degree alone, they think they have the world by the balls, when they don’t.”

  “Give him a chance.”

  “I plan to.” And then Alex looked over my shoulder with a smile. “Brock,” he said, reaching out a hand, which was pushed aside as Brock Wenn gave his cousin a tight hug and a few meaningful slaps on the back.

  “We don’t shake hands after not seeing each other for five years, Alex. We hug it out. I’ve missed you. It’s great to see you.”

  This was an asshole? He didn’t seem like one to me. In fact, as I watched him embrace his cousin, I saw him close his eyes for a second before he stepped back so they could assess how each other had changed over the years. And then he and Alex unexpectedly laughed.

  “You’ve gotten old,” Brock said. “What’s with the scruff?”

  “Look who’s talking—what’s with the beard? And the tux? I’ve never seen you in one.”

  “It’s a black-tie event. What was I supposed to wear? A jock?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  “Yeah, well, since you and I used to light our farts on fire, it’s not as if I can blame you.”

  “Brock, this is my wife, Jennifer,” Alex said.

  I shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Brock. Alex has told me a lot about you.”

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “No, it was all good. He said that you were very close when you were growing up.”

  “We were. And then life got in the way. After what happened to his parents, Alex had no choice but to take over Wenn, and I had to hunker down at school—which, by the way, was a beast to get through, but I did it. We stupidly fell out of touch with each other, but I’m hoping to change that, even if he won’t give me a job.” He looked at Alex. “And I mean that,” he said. “I was always closer to you than I was with my own brothers. It’s time to reconnect and get back on track.”

&
nbsp; “I’d like that,” Alex said.

  “Then let’s make it happen.”

  As they exchanged small talk and jabs and caught up, I watched Brock’s face become animated. Alex wasn’t joking—his cousin was seriously good looking. Alex was six-foot-two, but Brock had to be at least six-foot-four. He had a straight, Romanesque nose and high cheekbones, which obviously had assisted him in his former modeling career. His face was tan, and despite his close-trimmed beard, I could tell that his face was more chiseled than Alex’s—but it was easy to see that they were related. They had similar, almond-shaped eyes, they each had broad shoulders, and their hair was the same thick, dark brown, though Brock wore his hair slightly longer.

  “Where are you living now?” Alex asked.

  “I’m crashing with a couple of buddies of mine until I can land a job and get something of my own. They have an apartment in the Village. I’ve hired a head hunter and I’m starting to do interviews, so hopefully I’ll have something soon.”

  “You don’t have your own place?”

  “You need money for that—and despite how sweet I look in this cheap rented tux of mine, I don’t have a lot of that. The only reason I splurged on the tux in the first place is because I thought I might be able to do some networking here tonight. I came with a friend of mine who knows Henri—I’m her plus one.”

  “Your father isn’t helping you out?”

  “Dad? Hell, no. I’ve been on my own for the past four years. I don’t have a relationship with my father anymore.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s not a story for here—I’ll tell you about it over a beer someday. Let’s just say that I’ve moved on and I’m doing what it takes to prove to him that I can make it on my own, which he doubts. Guess who’s going to win that argument?”

  “That would be you.”

  “And I will. I don’t need his money, his help, and especially not his abuse. I’ll make it here, and he’ll have to eat crow when I do.”

  “Your father always was as bullheaded as my own.”

  “Close your eyes and try to imagine those two growing up together. Talk about sibling rivalry.”

  “What are you looking to do?”

  “Acquisitions. I like the idea of getting my hands dirty, striking deals, and locking them down. I think I’d be good at that.”

  “I think you would, too. You’ve got the personality for it—and your looks certainly won’t hurt.” Alex cocked his head at Brock. “Look, why don’t you call Blackwell tomorrow and set up an appointment for us to meet? You remember her, don’t you?”

  “Who could forget Barbara Blackwell?”

  “Point taken. Give her a call, you and I will go out for that beer, and we’ll see if there’s anything at Wenn that might work for you.”

  “I appreciate that, Alex. And I hope you return as CEO soon—not to mention chairman of the board. I’ve been following what happened to you in the papers. For two weeks, the world thought you were gone—I thought you were gone—and then you come back only to find that this son of a bitch Rowe has swept in to take your seats. It’s bullshit.” He turned to me. “By the way, Jennifer, thank you for saving my cousin’s life. I read about what you did. In fact, it was extraordinary what you did.”

  I put my arm around Alex’s back. “No one’s taking this one away from me. At least not if I can help it.”

  “She’s a supernatural force, Brock.”

  “With that sling of hers, she certainly is.”

  “You like my sling?”

  “It’s rad. Talk about coming here and owning it.”

  “See,” I said to Alex. “Someone who gets it. It wasn’t my idea, Brock—it was Blackwell’s. She deserves the credit, but I have to agree—it’s pretty rad.”

  Brock checked his watch. “Sorry. I should get back to my friend—she’s probably wondering where I am at this point.”

  “Girlfriend?” Alex asked.

  “No, just a good friend from college. I don’t have time to date anyone right now. I’m too hungry to find work. Anyway, great to see you, bro.” He gave Alex another hug. “I’ll call Blackwell. And by the way—when we meet, the beer is on me.”

  * * *

  As he walked away from us, I turned to Alex. “That man is no asshole.”

  “He isn’t. And he wasn’t the least bit cocky, which I was expecting because Brock always was cocky. I think whatever happened between him and his father changed him somehow. Brock comes from a lot of money, Jennifer. Being on his own for four years without access to that kind of assistance must have been as humbling as it was empowering. Without the money, he had to learn how to make it on his own. And he obviously did so by nailing Wharton, and now by trying to find work here. I’m glad that my initial impressions of him were wrong. I’m glad to have my cousin back.”

  “And I’m happy for you,” I said. “Oh, and by the way, can I just say that I can’t believe that you used to light your farts on fire?”

  “The two of us were like human volcanoes. You wouldn’t believe the things we used to do. And that’s just the tip of it. It got a hell of a lot worse than that when we were kids.”

  “Good to know,” I said, and then I returned my focus to the task at hand. “We need to find Epifania.”

  “Then let’s find her.”

  “But where to look?” I said to him. “Look at this place—there must be four hundred people here, if not more.”

  “I’d say there are more.”

  “So, where to begin?”

  We both fell into silence as we scanned the crowd for her, and as we did, I knew that neither of us was unaware that people were looking straight at us. Talking about us. Creating their own fictions about us.

  “I feel as if we’re under a microscope,” I said.

  “Let me get us that martini I’ve been promising you,” he said. “Meanwhile, you keep an eye out for either Henri or Epifania.”

  “Done—I need that drink.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  And he was. He handed me my martini, and asked me if I’d had any luck. Just as I was about to say that I hadn’t, I saw Stephen Rowe looking at me from across the room. For a long moment, we just held each other’s gaze, then I saw him glance over at Alex, and he sneered at me and started to move away from us, in the direction of the restrooms at the far left of the room. Just seeing him here after our altercation was enough to set me on edge. Alex clocked it, and turned to me.

  “Whom did you just see?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said.

  “Then that means that I already know. Where is he?”

  “Alex…”

  “Where is he, Jennifer?”

  Oh, bloody hell…

  “Moving toward the restrooms. He just passed Peachy Von Prout.”

  “I see him. And I have something to say to him.”

  “Alex, don’t. It’s not worth it, especially since Henri invites the media to his parties. Leave it alone.”

  “Like hell I will,” he said. “No one threatens my wife. Fuck him. When I’m finished with him, he’d better hope that he can still walk.”

  Before I could say anything more, Alex launched into the crowd. I found myself trailing behind him with a drink in my hand, and soon both of us were standing behind the orchestra, where a large paneled wall had been constructed to give Henri’s guests privacy when they wanted to use the facilities.

  “This isn’t worth it,” I said to him as we waited for Rowe to emerge from the men’s room.

  But Alex ignored me. I watched him take a long pull off his drink, and then I noted that his face had become flush with anger.

  “Alex, please. If you confront him, people will see it. A reporter might document it. And what then? If you fight him, it’s just going to make you look unhinged during the very moment in your life when you need to look as if you’re in absolute contr
ol. If you screw this up, and if someone snaps a photograph of you confronting Rowe, you’re going to look like a loose cannon. You can’t absorb that kind of blow right now. People need to view you as a rock.”

  “No one does what he did to you and gets away with it.”

  “Please,” I said. “Let’s just go and find Epifania. Rowe isn’t worth our time.”

  But when Rowe came out of the restroom, Alex threw his martini onto the floor, shattering glass at Rowe’s feet and splattering liquid up onto his tux, and Alex was on top of him before Rowe had any clue what was happening. He took Rowe by the throat, and pinned him against a wall.

  “Stay the fuck away from my wife,” he said in a low voice while Rowe writhed beneath his touch. “Stay away from her, or I’ll bring you to your knees.”

  He was squeezing Rowe’s throat so hard, the man couldn’t speak. But since other men were coming to use the restroom, I watched those men pause and then move forward as the confrontation escalated between Alex and Rowe.

  With his grip still firm on Rowe’s throat, Alex reached back and slammed his head against the wall behind him, causing Rowe’s eyes to close for a moment before they fluttered open again.

  He’d been ambushed. He’d never seen this coming, especially in such a public space. But at least—with a wall separating us from the rest of the room—it was less public here, knowledge Alex had seized upon. He knocked Rowe’s head twice against the wall, and then Rowe, somehow coming back into himself, kicked out and fought back.

  But it was all for nothing. Alex had him in his grip, which only tightened against Rowe’s throat to the point that the man’s face started to turn bright red, and then shades of purple. He’d kill him if he didn’t stop soon.

  “Get away from him,” I shouted at Alex. “Now!”

  “Why? If I keep holding him like this, we’ll be rid of him forever.”

  “And you’d be a murderer.”