by Gemma Brooks
Through conversation that evening I learned that Simon was a hungry, passionate, and insatiable soul. I saw a bit of myself in him, and visions of taking over the world together like some high profile power couple flashed through my head. A whirlwind courtship led to a whirlwind wedding, and for a tiny sliver in time, I was the happiest girl in all of Manhattan.
A year into our marriage Simon’s record label took off out of nowhere, and I quickly learned that the only thing Simon truly gave a shit about was himself. And his money. He didn’t want me. He wanted a pretty girl to make him look good. A gorgeous wife to show off. Someone to make the other guys jealous. A lithe sophisticate in designer gowns to hang on his arm when he attended weekend after weekend of lavish dinners, parties and award shows.
Simon loved attention, though he was good at hiding that fact. Everyone thought they knew Simon but they didn’t. Only I had the joy of knowing the real version of him; the version he kept locked away until it was just the two of us.
“Did you see the way Barton was looking at you?” he huffed proudly as he unhooked his cufflinks after a party one night. “He totally wants you. I love the way people look at us like they want to be us.”
I ignored his comments as I unzipped my silk-chiffon dress and tugged my slip down my narrow hips. His hands slithered from behind me and hungrily tightened around my tender breasts. He didn’t touch me the way a normal husband touched his wife. There was no love in the way he looked at me. I was just another thing Simon owned. Another luxury import in his garage. Another Rolex in his collection. His perfect little bought-and-paid-for wife.
Whenever he kissed my neck and pressed his hardness into my backside, I always knew what he wanted. He called it my wifely duty and reminded me that I was lucky. He could have anyone he wanted but he chose me.
With each passing year, my dream of modeling and walking runways became a distant memory, laughable almost. I was no longer sweet Hadley from Nashville. I was Hadley Tennyson Parker, philanthropist, Manhattan socialite, and doting, dutiful wife of Simon Parker.
I was exactly who Simon wanted me to be, and in being such, I’d become a shell of my former self. I was dead inside and completely and utterly financially dependent on him. I hadn’t a real penny to my name.
“Hadley,” Maura whispered. She nudged my arm and brought me back to reality.
“Simon Parker, you are to keep all marital assets except the house in East Hampton, the Bentley, and Ms. Parker’s wardrobe and personal effects. You are also ordered to pay Hadley Tennyson Parker alimony in the amount of five million dollars per year for the next ten years or until she remarries, whichever comes first,” the judge ordered before knocking her gavel against the sounding block.
“Did I hear that right?” I whispered to Maura as a smile crept across my lips. Five million dollars was pocket change to Simon. He practically made that money in his sleep. But for a miser like him, it was everything, and it was a far cry from the paltry quarter of a million dollars a year he tried to offer me in mediation.
Maura smiled and squeezed my hand as we waited for court to be dismissed. I glanced over at Simon. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying but judging by his flailing arms, beet red face and the split flying from his lips, he wasn’t very pleased.
As we left the courthouse that day, I wasn’t expecting the swarm of media and paparazzi that were camped outside. The flash of dozens of camera bulbs nearly blinded me.
“Hadley! Hadley!” they yelled at me. The details of my divorce settlement probably wouldn’t make headline news, but the entertainment industry would eat it up like candy.
“She’s not taking any questions,” Maura yelled out at them as she shielded me with her body and escorted me to a waiting, black Escalade.
The blasting AC provided a much-needed relief from the hot, humid August day. Hair stuck to my neck as I fanned myself and tried to cool down before my makeup melted off my face.
“Hi, sweetie,” my mother said as she placed her hand on my back. She and my father had been in town for the trial. “So good old Simon got what he deserved. Everything’s going to be just fine now.”
She’d never know how comforting it was to hear her sweet southern drawl telling me everything was going to be okay that day because there were times I wasn’t so sure. No one gets married thinking they’re going to be divorced in six years. Starting over from scratch when you’ve depended on someone else for so long was, in many ways, terrifying.
“I hope so, Mama,” I sighed. I was the spitting image of her. We shared the same long legs, blonde hair, and dimpled smile that drove the guys wild. My father was a lucky man to have snagged her and he knew it. That woman was treated like a queen and spoiled rotten. All she ever wanted was the same for me.
“I hope we never have to see that man again,” my father huffed as he checked his watch. “You deserve better than him, Hadley.”
“I know, Daddy,” I said.
In all my life I never thought I’d be divorced at twenty-seven. I never thought I’d sacrifice my dreams so that someone else could have theirs. I also never thought I’d stay with a man who objectified me the way Simon did. Month after month turned into year after year, and every once in a while he’d do something special for me and make me feel like a million bucks. I’d catch glimpses of the old Simon; the hungry, passionate Simon who looked at me like I was the most wonderful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. The one who touched me with loving hands and gave me tender kisses. For years, I foolishly thought we could get that back.
The Escalade pulled up to my apartment building on the lower east side. My fourth floor studio walk up was a far cry from the penthouse I’d grown accustomed to over the years. I longed for those to-die-for city skyline views like nothing else. They were just a couple miles away, but I was homesick for them as if they were a million miles away.
“Once you get your settlement, you’ll be able to find something a little more suited for your tastes,” my mama reminded me as we stood outside the entrance. My father, a rather big man, had no desire to walk the four flights of stairs.
“Our plane leaves in a couple hours,” he said as he checked his watch. His concerned blue eyes studied my face. “We need to get going. You going to be okay?”
“Of course, Daddy,” I said. I shot him a hopeful smile. I needed a glass of wine, a good cry, and night out with my best friend. “I’ll be fine.”
My father’s phone began to emit the most obnoxious of ring tones and he raised a finger before walking off to take the call. A true businessman, he was never off work. A marketing executive for a major soft drink company, the man lived, breathed, and slept work. I suppose it wasn’t quite that ironic that the man I married was the same way. The day I knew my marriage to Simon was over, I vowed to myself never to make that mistake again.
“Sweetie,” my mom said as she moved a rogue strand of blonde hair out of my eyes. “I know you’re going to want to go out and paint the town red now that you’re single again and you have this big settlement coming. You’ve spent a lot of years as a kept woman, and I know you’re just dying to break out of that shell.”
“What are you getting at?” I asked, my eyes squinting.
She licked her lips and tilted her head before making sure my father was no longer in earshot of her. “Whatever you do, Hadley, do not rush into another marriage.”
I laughed. Marriage was the farthest thing from my mind at that moment.
“I mean it,” she said, her face getting pinched. “The second you get married again, you lose that alimony. You need to make sure you can support yourself on your own before rushing into another relationship and getting caught up again.”
“I didn’t get caught up in Simon,” I huffed. Okay, so I did. We got married after only knowing each other for six months, which was partially why I was entitled to such a pretty penny in the settlement. He made all of his millions with me by his side.
“I don’t want you to ever feel stuck again,” she said
, her eyes softening. “You were stuck with Simon for so long. I knew you weren’t happy.”
Memories of countless Christmases and Thanksgivings spent making excuses for Simon’s absence floated through my mind.
“Mama,” I said. I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to rush into anything. I don’t even know if I want to be married ever again.”
She gasped and clutched at her pearls, though I knew she was joking. As a little girl, all I ever did was have pretend weddings and name all my baby dolls and talk about how handsome my pretend husband was. Even as a child, I knew I wanted the traditional husband and kids path.
“I always thought you were going to stay in Tennessee,” she sighed. “Marry some doctor. Live on a horse ranch. Have a bunch of kids. That’s all you ever talked about.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I said. “I just know I want to be happy. Whatever that entails.”
“Hadley, please just remember what I said, okay?” My mom’s voice was laced with worry. “Make sure you’re fully able to support yourself on your own before you even so much as think about falling in love.”
My lips curled into a faint smile. Growing up, I fell in love with just about everyone after about two seconds of knowing them: our college student gardener, our pool boy, the boy down the street, my high school boyfriend, and my other high school boyfriend. Her worrying came from a legitimate place.
I placed one flawlessly manicured hand over my chest. “The next guy I give my heart to has to be absolutely perfect for me, Mama. I promise. I won’t settle. I won’t fall that easily ever again.”
CHAPTER 1
I pressed my full lips together to redistribute the creamy red Chanel lipstick that covered them. Sucking down drink after drink with those tiny straws was causing the color to fade away fast.
“I’ve never seen this place so dead before.” My eyes scanned the perimeter of the bar only to see nothing but empty tables and bored looking cocktail waitresses.
“It’s early. Give it time,” Taylor said as she sipped her martini. “Ghost Bar is always this way just before nine.”
Taylor Young was my best friend in the entire world and it was because of her that I was out that night. Just hours prior, she’d stopped by unannounced with a bag of Chinese takeout from my favorite restaurant. She’d caught me in a fit of tears, forced me to clean myself up, and made me go out that night.
It had been a week since my trial, and I’d only left the house a couple of times. I knew our divorce was the talk of the town amongst our old circle. I had to mourn the life I had known for years and wait until the excitement died down a bit before my reemergence.
“It’s nine thirty,” I said. “How much longer do we have to wait?”
“Patience,” Taylor said. “See that guy over there? He’s been staring at you all night.”
“What guy?” my eyes scanned the room, and in a horrible attempt to be nonchalant I accidentally locked eyes with him. A middle-aged man in a black suit and red tie raised his drink and nodded towards me. “What do I do?”
“What do you mean, what do you do?” Taylor laughed. “You act like this is the first time you’ve ever been hit on, and I know that’s not true.”
Years of being faithful to Simon had me trained not to so much as notice the way other men looked at me.
“He’s coming this way. Shit,” I said to Taylor. I took a long sip of my drink before ordering my next one. The room was starting to spin a little, and my face was getting slightly numb.
“You need to slow down, girl,” Taylor said. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us. I don’t want you crashing early on me.”
“Hi, there.” A nasally voice with a Brooklyn accent vibrated in my eardrum. I spun around to face him, my fingers delicately interlaced around the crystal glass in my hands.
“Hi,” I said with a kind smile as I tried not to cough. A cloud of cheap cologne radiated off him and his suit screamed off-the-rack.
“I’m Ronnie,” he said with a smile that revealed an array of oddly shaped and discolored teeth.
“Hadley,” I replied. Taylor was trying not to laugh as she hid her smile in the opposite direction. I shot her a dirty look.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he waved his hand up to get the bartender’s attention.
“No, no,” I said. “That’s okay. I just ordered another one a second ago.”
“So, uh, what brings you here tonight?” he asked. His hand was gripping the bar behind me as he invaded my personal space.
“Just out for drinks,” I said. I wasn’t good with playing the game nor did I have any interest in playing it with Ronnie.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. His eyes were practically undressing me right there on the spot.
“Do you live in the city?” I asked. The polite southerner in me never failed to emerge at all the wrong times, and I kicked myself for engaging him in further conversation. I knew full well that he didn’t have a shot in hell with me.
“Brooklyn,” he said. “I work up the street at a law firm.”
His cologne was starting to make me nauseous, and I was desperate to get away from him. I shot Taylor a second look, but she was suddenly deep in conversation with someone else. As a realtor, she pretty much knew everyone in the city. I couldn’t take her anywhere without her bumping into someone.
I looked down at his hand, which was still gripping the edge of the bar. The indentation on his left ring finger told me he was probably some horny, seldom-laid married man looking for a one-night stand in the city.
“There you are,” a man’s voice called from behind Ronnie. “Excuse me.”
A firm hand gripped Ronnie’s shoulder and gently pushed him aside. Standing before me was a taller man in a navy suit with perfectly combed, thick, dark hair and a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His piercing blue eyes locked into mine, and I could have sworn my heart skipped a few beats. I racked my brain trying to remember if I was supposed to know him or not. He looked familiar, but in more of a nostalgic sort of way.
“Sorry I’m late,” the man said as he leaned in and pretended to kiss my cheek, his lips merely grazing my skin as I breathed him in. “Work ran late today. As always.”
He turned to face Ronnie and raised his eyebrows as if to tell him to get lost. A smile crept across my mouth as I got it. He was trying to save me from Ronnie.
“Oh, uh, sorry, bro,” Ronnie said before scurrying back to his corner in the bar. With that, Ronnie, his cheap suit, and his cloud of cologne were gone.
“Thank you for that,” I said. The man took a seat in the bar stool next to mine and gave a quick wave to the bartender.
The slight scent of a sandalwood and citrus scent wafted towards me and took me to another place and time. He ordered his drink, top-shelf vodka on the rocks, and turned his focus back to me.
“I’m Beckett,” he said. His eyes studied my face. “Beckett Alexander.”
*
BECKETT (the novel) will be released in JANUARY 2015!
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