Ex-Con Times Two

by Jay S. Wilder

  “Just to let you know, Anna, he’s pretty impressed,” Adam says, smiling at me. “Even though he’s the first person to insist he doesn’t have a clue how social media works, he knows how important it is. He knows we’ve been lacking. Now he’s glad things are turning around.”

  “I’m happy to know he’s pleased,” I murmur. Inside I’m singing at the top of my lungs, of course. But I want to play things down, if only to spare Kelly’s feelings.

  “With this in mind, Dad—I mean, Mr. Gerome—made a decision.” The way his tone of voice just shifted tells me he’s about to drop a bomb on us. I brace myself for impact.

  “Anna will be coming with me to Miami Fashion Week,” he says to Kelly. I’m pretty sure I saw her jaw hit the floor, but it’s hard to tell over the pounding of my heart.

  “You can’t be serious!” she shrieks. We both look at her, shocked at the strength of her reaction. She was pissed over Paris, but this is something else entirely. I’ve never seen her behave unprofessionally. She leaps to her feet, towering over the both of us in her Prada stilettoes.

  She looks from one of us to the other then back again, her skin flushed. It looks as though she doesn’t know whether to scream or cry, or both.

  “I think it’s hilarious, you wanting somebody wearing last season’s knock-offs to represent a fashion magazine,” she spits, glaring at me. Then she storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

  I’m shaking. It’s like a tornado passed over me. “What just happened?” I ask, my voice tremulous. Any hope of repairing my friendship with Kelly has been flushed away with one short meeting.

  Adam sighs heavily. “I just royally pissed off one of the most valuable members of our staff,” he says. “But I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass, either. Dad is seriously impressed with you. He’s finally starting to get the idea that social media’s not going anywhere. Kelly can’t cut it. She only half-tried, anyway.”

  “I don’t know what to think about any of this,” I admit to him. Part of me is happy. My work is being recognized, by the owner of the magazine no less. This trip is a huge opportunity to build an even stronger portfolio of work.

  Of course I can’t deny the tantalizing notion of spending another week with Adam. We’ll have to be a bit more discreet than we were in Paris, since American paparazzi are more familiar with his antics than those overseas. Still, it’s a delicious thought.

  I just wish I didn’t feel so lousy about it.

  “Anna,” Adam whispers. In his voice is a soft command. I can’t keep my eyes from meeting his, as though he’s a magnet. “This is a huge step for you. You’re great for the magazine. This is a good thing. Don’t let Kelly’s attitude ruin things for you.”

  I bite my lip, torn. “I can’t pretend I’m not happy, but knowing somebody else feels screwed over…I’m not as thrilled as I could be,” I admit.

  “I’m sorry it’s like this,” he says softly. “You should be celebrating, not feeling sad about it because somebody’s pissing all over your parade.” I can’t help smiling a little, warmed by his concern.

  I leave his office after another ten minutes, during which time we go over the travel plans and scheduling. Looks like I’ll be re-packing everything I unpacked over the weekend.

  Before heading back to my desk to finish working on my articles, I stop by Kelly’s office. She’s seated at her computer, her fingers slamming against the keys as she types.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, softly. “I really am. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. You have to believe me.”

  It’s as though I’m not even here. I might as well be a ghost. She keeps typing, her gaze never leaving the screen. Taking the hint I finally walk away, now glum. When I turn away, I notice the gifts I’d left on her desk are now in the wastebasket.

  Despite all the guilt, something Adam said is now starting to ring true. I can’t wholeheartedly enjoy my success, which does suck. I’m not cruel enough to pretend that another person—especially one who helped me land this job in the first place—doesn’t matter to me.

  Chapter 21

  Anna

  I spend the night conflicted as always. It seems as though there’s no end to the mess. First it was conflict over Adam and my job. Now I’m losing sleep over Kelly. It’s not as though the ‘Adam problem’ has gone away. Far from it, in fact, seeing as how we’re scheduled to spend another week together.

  My teeth are on edge when I walk into the building the next day, my knees shaking when I step off the elevator near Kelly’s office. I wish there was a way to get to my office without having to walk past hers. I tell myself to suck it up and get it over with. I go down the hallway with my head held as high as possible.

  “Hey,” I hear from inside her office, making me freeze. She doesn’t sound angry. In fact, her tone is almost friendly. I turn, slowly, afraid of what I’ll find. She’s smiling, which I now realize is probably more disconcerting than if she’d been screaming at me.

  She’s even wearing the scarf I bought for her. She touches her hand to it. “I wanted to thank you for this,” she says, the smile never leaving her face. “It was really sweet of you to think of me, especially when I was so bitchy.”

  “Oh,” I say, at a loss for words. “Um…you’re welcome…?”

  She giggles. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through over the Paris trip—especially my reaction yesterday. Wilhelm’s right. You’re the best person for the job. Things change. I just have to get better at dealing with it, I guess.”

  I’m still a little off-balance by this abrupt about-face she’s done, but I manage to smile. “It’s okay, really,” I assure her. “I totally understand why you’d be upset. Believe me, it was out of left field for me, too.”

  “Tell me about it,” she says, chuckling. “Well I’ll let you go—I’m sure you have a million things to do before you leave. Have a safe trip—and have fun!” She walks past me toward the kitchen with her coffee mug in hand. Before she does she squeezes my arm.

  I can’t deny the relief flooding through me as I watch her slim, Chanel-clad figure walk away. It’s like a weight has been lifted. I go about the business of getting things together before my flight with much more excitement than I felt before I walked through the doors.

  “This is amazing!” I shout to Adam over the salsa music we’re shaking our groove things to on the dance floor.

  Miami is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. LA was cool, Paris was chic. Miami is hot, sweaty, throbbing with excitement. The food and music are amazing, the fashion is gorgeous, the people are welcoming. It seems like they’re always ready to have a good time.

  “I knew you’d love it!” he replies, grinning. “Miami loves you!”

  As if on cue, a man I’ve never met dances over toward me. It’s like he doesn’t even notice I’m clearly with another man. We’re making a point of keeping our distance while we do our thing. No need to get the tabloid tongues wagging all over again. Still, we’re talking to each other, smiling at each other, but this stranger doesn’t seem to care.

  “Hello,” he says, his deep voice oozing sensuality. He’s deeply tanned, his dark hair slicked back, his nearly black eyes threatening to drown me. He’s much closer to me than Adam currently is. I smell cologne and sweat on him.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to be polite but unsure how to navigate this. The club we’re currently in is full of Latin beats to go with Latin lovers. He’s clearly one of the horniest of them all. Getting a clearer look at him I realize I’ve seen him before, and not just while he’s rubbed up on other women on the dance floor. He’s a TV actor, but I can’t quite put my finger on what he appears in.

  “You’re the sexiest woman here,” he murmurs in my ear, his low voice resonating through me.

  Adam doesn’t give him a chance to continue. “Excuse me,” he says, tapping the man on the shoulder. “She’s not alone, fuckface.”

  “Oh,” the stranger says, backing away with his hands held
up. “My mistake.” He smiles at me once more before disappearing.

  I can’t suppress the flattered smile that spreads across my face. Not only have I been approached like this more than once over the course of the week, but every time, Adam has found a way to put the kibosh on whatever might develop. A protective arm around my shoulders, a single step in front of me to place himself between me and whoever happens to be flirting with me…he’s not making it easy for other men to get a word in. It doesn’t seem to matter exactly who is trying to attract my attention, either. One night, a guy looking suspiciously like Bradley Cooper tried to bend my ear at the Valentino party. Adam nearly dragged me away.

  “He was just being friendly,” I say now, once the stranger has walked off.

  “You don’t know men very well, do you?” he asks, finally looking at me instead of following the stranger with his eyes.

  “You know, you act like you own me,” I remind him. “This is the sort of shit we used to fight about when I started working for you. You realize this, right?”

  He looks angry for a moment, but then I see his expression soften.

  “You’re right,” he admits. Then he surprises me by reaching out to grab me by the hips, pulling me close to him. “If you don’t think I own you, you need to think again.” He leans toward me, his mouth mere centimeters away. I hold my breath, waiting for the sweet sensation of his lips on mine. All this dancing has gotten my blood going, and my need rising, putting me in the mood for some more or Adam between the sheets.

  He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he pulls his head back so I can see a smug smile touch his full mouth. “Are you sure I don’t own you?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I smack my palm against his shoulder, frustrated. His hand shoots out to enclose my wrist so he can caress my skin. I moan in spite of myself.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs, as he grows against my thigh. I realize we’re locked together in the middle of the dance floor for all the world to see. I don’t even care.

  “Take me back to the room,” I order. “Now.”

  Minutes later we’re in the car, being whisked back to our hotel. The car door barely closes and I’m on top of him, straddling his lap, grateful for a privacy screen and tinted windows.

  “Wow,” he gasps when I grind against the bulge in his pants. I’m too busy tearing his shirt open to care. I sink my teeth into his exposed shoulder. He groans loudly, spurring me on. I slip my arms out of the thin straps of my dress then pull it down until it’s around my waist.

  “Suck them,” I whisper. His head descends on me, his hands squeezing my tits together so his tongue can flick back and forth between the nipples. I hold on to his shoulders, digging my nails in, groaning with my head thrown back. I try to keep myself quiet for the sake of discretion but I can’t hold back the moans he pulls from me with his hands and tongue.

  My hips rock faster, faster, driving myself toward the peak of my pleasure. He bites down on my nipple. His fingers dig into my ass, pulling me further down onto him. That’s all it takes to send me rocketing over the top. I put the side of one fist into my mouth to keep from screaming as an orgasm overtakes me.

  “You’re so sexy,” he whispers, his breath coming hard and fast. He’s ready to explode, just as I was before I got myself off on him. I let him take over so he can have his pleasure. He lifts me off his lap long enough to pull out his rigid cock and roll a condom over it. He turns me around and settles me down, facing away from him. I reach down to pull my panties aside, then guide him inside me.

  “Oh…god…” I breathe, leaning back against him as he thrusts up into my dripping heat. He plays with me, twisting my nipples in his fingers, licking the side of my neck. I can’t hold back the blissful moans as sensation overtakes rational thought.

  “So sexy…” he growls in my ear. “So fucking sexy.” He reaches down with one hand to find my engorged clit, then begins to rub my ultra-sensitive spot. I wrap one arm behind me, around his neck to hold him close to me as he pleasures me with his mouth, hands and cock at once.

  I gasp when I sense an orgasm approaching already—I’m shocked by how it’s speeding toward me. There’s too much sensation hitting me all at once. I have no choice but to give myself over to it. I cry out again and again, softly, as he continues to fill me with himself until he cries out when he goes rigid beneath me.

  “Holy hell,” he mutters in my ear, before kissing me on the cheek. I relax against him for a moment with his arms wrapped tight around me before climbing off his lap.

  By the time we exit the car to make our way through the lobby of the hotel, it’s as though the whole thing never happened. Except for the three buttons now missing from Adam’s shirt. His suit jacket covers it up nicely, though.

  We’re back in his suite, where I’m enjoying the view from his window. All of Miami is laid out at my feet. I wonder how it must be to live this way all the time. With this sense of being on top of the world.

  “What are you thinking about?” Adam asks, walking up behind me. We’re both wrapped in fluffy robes, having showered together…then having had sex again…then showered again.

  “You really want to know?” I reply, turning toward him. I see consternation cross his face.

  “Well now I’m not sure,” he says, one eyebrow raised. I smile.

  “It’s nothing terrible,” I assure him. “I was just thinking…I don’t know who you were planning to take to London with you, but I think it should be Kelly.” His eyes widen, he opens his mouth. He’s about to protest. I put my fingers against his mouth, silencing him.

  “I mean it,” I say. “It’s only fair she go with you. This is the right thing to do.”

  I get the feeling he’s not going to let it go so easy.

  Chapter 22

  Adam

  We argue over London the entire way home. On our way to the car the following morning, on the plane, getting off the plane, on our way to drop her off at her apartment. There’s only one topic of conversation: London.

  It would be easier if I didn’t understand her point of view, I realize miserably. I know she feels like shit about Kelly. When I’m being honest with myself I know I wouldn’t want to be in Kelly’s expensive shoes. This is real life. I wish Anna would at least try to understand it. One day it’ll be our turn, when younger, more savvy people slip in to unseat us. Why not enjoy life while we can?

  “It’s not like I’m firing her,” I remind Anna while we’re in the car, on our way back from the airport. I’m exhausted by now, my throat hoarse from trying to get her to see things my way. She’s so stubborn. It amazes me to think anyone has ever called me stubborn when I compare myself to her. She is absolutely immovable.

  “No, you’re not firing her,” Anna shoots back, her eyes on her tablet as she responds to comments on her latest status updates. “You’re only breaking her heart because you think she’s too old to do the job. Not to mention the fact we’re sleeping together. Clearly she’s lost value because she’s unfuckable.” I’m surprised by her strong words. She doesn’t normally talk like this.

  She lays the tablet on her lap, then looks at me. “Adam, I’m losing my grip on this. I want to do things the right way, but you’re making it really hard for me.”

  I reach out to take her hand, but she pulls it away. Her rejection stings.

  “What do you think I should do, then?” I ask.

  She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “Honestly?” she asks, and my stomach sinks. This is exactly how she approached it when she announced not wanting to go to London.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you anymore,” she says, flatly. The sound of the car’s brakes punctuates her statement. I realize we’ve pulled up in front of her apartment building. I’m speechless, sputtering.

  “You’re not serious,” I manage to say.

  “I’m dead serious,” she replies. “A perfect choice of words, too. Serious. I have to be more serious about my career, and I have to feel good about myself while I
do it. Right now I don’t like myself very much. You were right, back in your office, when you said it’s not fair I don’t get to enjoy my success. I know I’ll never be able to enjoy it when I’m screwing somebody else over in the process.” Her big eyes are searching mine, blue-green pools of light clouded by the turmoil she’s experiencing.

  I can’t even reply. She gets out of the car without a word, taking the bags the chauffeur has handed her.

  “I hope this is important, Adam,” Wilhelm says as he enters the room. I struggle to avoid rolling my eyes.

  “Hi to you, too, Dad,” I say, to which he scowls. I can’t help but provoke him, as much as I know I shouldn’t. He could at least ask how the trip to London went. I know by now, though, not to expect miracles from Wilhelm Gerome.

  “What is it you wanted to see me about?” He sits across from me, by the fire I’m sure was lit just for this little meeting in the library. I wonder vaguely if it will be put out once we’ve both left the room, by one of the number of servants who always seem to be lurking about.

  I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. We’re the very picture of opposites. I’m dressed in casual clothing, holding a tumbler of vodka in my hands. Meanwhile, my father is sitting fully erect. Even though it’s the weekend he’s wearing a suit. I assume he has or had a meeting today—or maybe this is just how he dresses throughout the week.

  “Fashion Week is starting soon over in London. Maybe you’ve heard,” I tell him. “And I’m having a helluva time getting my team to cooperate on it.”

  “You can’t handle this on your own?” he asks, bristling. Clearly I’m wasting his precious time. I clench my jaw and count to five, knowing that if I fight with him I’ll lose all credibility.

  “I can handle it just fine. What I want is your word: You’ll back me up if I threaten to fire an employee who refuses to go.”