by Jessie Cooke
She had just settled into Rita’s chair behind the large glass desk when a timid knock on the opened door caught her attention.
A mousy girl, early twenties, clad in wool stockings and jumper offered a timid wave before she pushed her large-rimmed tortoise-shell glasses up on her nose.
“Ms. Ryan?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“May I come in?”
Bella waved her into the room nodding, and the girl crossed quickly to the chair opposite the desk, but stood beside it rather than seating herself in it.
“Hi. I’m Connie Strayer. I’m interning here.” Her voice stepped up at the end as if she were asking a question rather than telling Bella about herself. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say, well, I really admire your work—well, you. I mean, I think your work is great and the way you worked your way up is awesome, too. I mean, it all goes together, of course, but . . . this is not exactly what I had planned to say.”
Bella smiled quietly. She’d never had a fan before, and the girl was certainly humble enough. She stood from the chair, motioned to Connie to have a seat, and then joined her in the chair beside her.
“Connie is it?” Bella asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m glad to meet you. What projects are you currently working on?”
And the timid girl seemed to light up, launching in to a detailed discussion of a historic renovation she was researching and helping with. Bella could see the love for the job that Connie had. She could tell from the sound of her voice that she was passionate about design, architecture, fabrics, all the elements that would make her a powerhouse in the future.
“What’s your degree in?” Bella asked.
“I have a degree in architectural design with a minor in interior design,” she answered.
“Sounds to me like you’ve always known you wanted to be a designer in some form or fashion,” Bella answered. “Hell, you’re more qualified than I am to be doing this job.”
Connie shook her lackluster brown hair. “I don’t have the experience, and I am having trouble getting it.”
Bella cocked her head to one side. “Why is that?” she asked. She had a hard time believing that Rita wouldn’t give this girl at least a solid chance. If Rita didn’t believe in her interns, she didn’t let them stick around for long. Connie said she’d been at the firm for three months.
“I lack confidence,” Connie said as she looked at her hands in her lap. Bella followed her gaze, noted the chewed fingernails and bloodied skin. Connie sensed Bella looking and curled her fingers up into her palms so they couldn’t be seen.
“Confidence in your designs?” Bella asked.
“Confidence in general—whether it’s myself, my designs, anything. In fact, the lack of confidence comes through in my designs, I think. I have the know-how and the book knowledge, but my execution suffers.” Connie raised her head, and her large doe eyes rested on Bella. “I wish I had your confidence,” she confided.
Bella guffawed, a sound that took them both by surprise. “You’d be disappointed, I think,” Bella confessed. “I don’t have half the confidence I believe you’re giving me credit for. I wish I did.” She smiled. She liked this soft-spoken girl. Perhaps they could work for the week on building each other’s confidence. “How would you like to have lunch today?” Bella asked Connie.
Connie’s face blushed immediately. “Seriously?” her eyes widened.
“Sure. Let’s bounce some ideas off of each other. You’re working on the Waverly account, and I need to check in with them tomorrow, so you’ll help me get up to speed. I’d hate to do anything to make Rita look bad while I’m here.”
Connie stood suddenly, almost knocking the chair over with her movement. “I’d love it. I know just the place we should go. I’ll come by around noon.”
Bella looked at the giant clock on the wall. It was only eight fifty. “Better make that eleven. I have a feeling I’ll be passed out from hunger by noon.”
Connie nodded and waved as she exited the room, and Bella laughed lightly at the fact that she had her first protégé. A part of her knew exactly why she’d decided to take on the project of Connie Strayer: she could put off having to make a final decision about Reece. She knew he was leaving in a day anyway. This would buy her time until he left town, and then she’d leave Dallas to head back to Fort Worth. Everything would be back in its place, and she wouldn’t have to admit to anything . . . yet.
Her cell phone chimed and vibrated from the depths of her purse. Bella went behind the desk to dig it out, saw Luke’s name, and awakened the phone to show her the message.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?” the message read.
Bella’s stomach dropped. She had hoped to avoid it all, but obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. Somehow Luke knew she was in Dallas.
She texted back: “Not a big deal. Here for some work.”
Seconds after she hit ‘send’ her phone rang. It was Luke calling.
“I’m really hurt, Bella,” he said before she even had a chance to greet him.
“I wasn’t going to tell you because I’m here only for a week, taking Rita’s place while she’s on vacation. Just keeping the ball rolling here, and I have a lot of work to do anyway.”
“A week?! A full week and you weren’t even going to tell me? Where are you staying? Why didn’t you come stay here? With me?”
Bella swallowed, her mind still whirling trying to figure out how he had known she was in Dallas. “The firm put me up,” she lied. Well, they would have, she told herself after she said it. “I knew in your small studio that it wouldn’t work for you to have a guest for a week. And our schedules would have interfered with each other. I know you’re working a lot at night, and then you probably come home keyed up and don’t settle down. Having me there would have made it harder for you.” And me too, she thought without saying.
“I want to see you,” Luke said, his voice one step away from whining. Bella felt a stabbing guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had no desire to see Luke whatsoever, and that only made the feeling of guilt spread and settle like a stone.
“Um, I don’t know if that would work. You know Rita; she has twenty irons in the fire, so I’m going to be really busy while I’m here. Not to mention this intern that has taken a shine to me. I’ve promised I would work with her while I’m here.”
She heard Luke heave a sigh on the other end. “There are others who have taken a shine to you too, Bella. And I’m one of them, remember? You can’t just write me off like what we had meant nothing to you.” She heard him swallow and felt a lump rise in her own throat. “I saw you Saturday night,” he said finally. “ . . . at the Reunion Tower. I know you were with Reece. I just want you to tell me what’s happening. What’s happening to us?”
The phone on Bella’s desk came to life, and she heard Stacy tell her that her nine-thirty was waiting. Relief washed over Bella as she thanked her lucky stars for providing another way for her to avoid dealing with the reality she was facing at the moment.
“Ah, Luke, I have to go. I have clients waiting. We had agreed to take some time apart—to try and decide what was best for us. Let’s honor that decision,” she said.
“But what if I’m deciding that you’re best for me, Bella? What if I’m deciding that it’s best that we’re together? What if I’m deciding that I’m not ready to give up on us yet?”
“Ms. Ryan?” the phone speaker buzzed again.
Bella pushed the button and spoke towards the phone on her desk. “I’ll be right there,” she said. She pulled her cell phone back up towards her mouth. “Now isn’t a good time, Luke. I have to go. I’ll try and get back to you. I promise.”
“Fine, but don’t take too long, Bella. We need to talk . . . in person.” The line when dead as Bella slid the phone back into her bag and stood to smooth her skirt and run her fingers through her long locks. Work was what she needed. Work would keep her from havin
g to deal with the drama that her life held.
Luke hung up the phone and hung his head in his hands. He had hardly slept since seeing Bella with Reece Saturday night. The look on her face had haunted what little sleep he had gotten. He realized that he’d never seen her looking so serene, so happy.
Andrew had insisted on staying over, saying it wasn’t a good idea for Luke to be alone. “No matter how much I’m glad she’s out of the picture, I don’t like that she hurt you, and I won’t leave you alone knowing that you’re hurting.” He had rubbed his shoulders, massaged his head, and kissed him passionately, but Luke couldn’t bring himself to muster any ardor towards him.
“This was not supposed to happen,” Luke had said over and over as Andrew had massaged and worked through the muscles on his shoulders.
“We can’t help who we fall in love with. She gave it a shot with you, but it’s obvious that she’s meant to be with Reece. You can’t control that. Trying to make her fall in love with you is about power and control, not love. You know the old saying: if you love something, set it free; if it comes back to you, it’s love. If it doesn’t, it never was. You’re gonna have to let her go. You can’t contrive the story and decide how it’s all supposed to happen.”
Luke had shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. I’m not talking about it that way. I’m saying . . .“ he had looked up into Andrew’s golden-brown eyes. “You’ll hate me,” he had said.
Andrew had smiled. “I doubt it.”
“I have always been gay for as long as I can remember. That’s why Reece trusted me.”
“Reece? Trusted you? You know the bastard?”
“He sought me out. Found out everything about everybody in the Dreamscapes office in Fort Worth. Read through my background, saw I was gay, thought I’d be a good choice.”
“Good choice for what?” Andrew had prompted.
“A good choice to befriend her, keep an eye on her, and also keep any other men from her.”
Andrew’s eyes had widened to what Luke was confessing. “Are you telling me that Reece Hamilton hired you to make certain Bella didn’t find anyone else?”
Luke had nodded. “The thing that neither of us counted on was that I fell for her . . . hard.”
“And that’s how you learned you were bisexual,” Andrew had said, finishing the thought for Reece. “It’s beginning to make more sense now. No wonder you’re distraught: she’s your first.” Andrew had winked at Luke to lighten the mood. “First female at least.”
“I never dreamed I would fall for her. I’ve never been attracted to any women, but Bella—she was different. I couldn’t be with her enough. I dreamed about her. I could feel her at night when we were apart. She brought to me a whole new world.”
“Does Reece know?”
“He knows, and he’s not happy, but I’ve threatened to tell Bella everything, so he can’t do anything.”
“But still his plan has worked,” Andrew pointed out. “It seemed to me that he’s getting the girl.” He had run his hand down into Luke’s lap. “Leaving you and me to our own devices—two little homos against the world. The way it should be.”
“Except that I know that’s not who I am,” Luke had said, gently removing Andrew’s hand from his lap. “Except that my heart is broken.”
“But only half of it,” Andrew had tried. “The half in love with a woman. The other half is still intact and ready for love with me. Right?”
Luke had known Andrew needed reaffirming, but he hadn’t had the energy. He couldn’t give to Andrew what he himself was needing.
And now, as he stared at the quiet cell phone after his conversation with Bella, he was finding that he needed even more than Andrew would ever give him. He needed Bella. And he needed Reece out of the way.
62
Reece ran his fingers through his brown-black waves. He and his new accountant, Fletcher Stevens, sat in his office. They both had their laptops open, their calculators tapping, and the conference table was littered with papers that foamed with number after number after number.
“We’ve been through them all. That’s the only glitch you’ve seen? You’re certain?” Reece was asking Fletcher.
“That’s it. Here are all the verification sheets for all accounts. It’s just these two that show the discrepancies.”
Reece threw himself back against the leather-backed chair. “That’s what I can’t figure out. These are personal accounts. I started them for two of my godkids. I’ve spoken with my sister. She hasn’t touched them, and her husband couldn’t if he wanted to. The only way a person could have accessed these accounts would have been through me.”
“Or through your paperwork at your home office,” Fletcher pointed out.
Reece shot out of his chair. As many times as he’d had the thought, it hadn’t registered with him until Fletcher had verbalized it.
“That’s it!” he said through clenched teeth. “Access to my personal files at my home. Shit!” There were only two people who had spent any amount of time at his home without him there: his housekeeper and Nicky. He knew it wouldn’t be his housekeeper. He had helped her out too often for her to stab him in the back. But Nicky?
“You think you know?” Fletcher asked hopefully.
“I’m ninety percent sure about it,” Reece said, staring into the distance where Fletcher wondered if Reece was picturing the various torture techniques he would use on the perpetrator of the crime. “Leave all of this with me, Fletcher. I’ll deal with it, and I’d appreciate your discretion.”
Fletcher smiled. “Of course. I’m just glad we figured it out.”
“Consider yourself my top accountant now. I want you going over my books with a fine-toothed comb. You’ll have a new contract on your desk in the morning.”
“Thanks, Reece. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be flattered. Just watch my money.”
Fletcher saluted. “With both eyes,” he responded as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Nicky! Reece thought, and his lips drew up as if he’d tasted something bitter. He pounded his fist into his palm and bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood. He was leaving town in one day, but he had a few things to get to the bottom of before he could fly away to Vegas, but he’d have to take them in the order they came. After all, he was only one man.
Reece pulled into the small parking lot next to Zippers. The usually lively and neon-lighted bar looked quiet and demure in the afternoon sun without its rainbow lights and dazzle. The inside was an even bigger contrast: no men dancing in g-strings; no gyrating bodies slicked with baby oil; no voices shouting to the bartenders over the steady pumping rhythm of the DJ. In fact, it was so dark, Reece had to remove his sunglasses to see.
“Chet!” he called.
“Just a second!” he heard from the back. He leaned up against the bar and looked around, picturing his newly acquired “friend” Luke in the traditional Zippers get-up, swinging his hips towards young gay men who would stuff his bikini underwear with dollar bills.
“Reece!” Chet greeted him. “Tell me you’re going to bring me some more eye candy like that sweet Luke you brought me. Mmmmmm, he’s got his own little following, and Daddy likes that!”
“Funny you should ask. I’m fairly certain your ‘sweet Luke’ as you call him hasn’t been so sweet.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Chet asked.
“Something to do with a hundred pennies and the driver’s side of my Porsche,” Reece said.
Chet tilted his head looking quizzically.
“Don’t worry about it. I was actually hoping to run into Andrew. Is he working tonight?”
“Speak and he shall appear,” Andrew’s voice came from the back. “Hi, Chet. I’ll take it from here.”
“Good to see you, Reece. Don’t be a stranger,” Chet said, and he sauntered back towards the office.
“I’ve told you to stop calling my office,” Reece said evenly once Chet was out of the room.
&nbs
p; “Then return my calls to your cell,” Andrew quipped as he threw a hand on his hip.
“I will return your calls when I damn well please. This is a business deal, not a personal relationship, and you need to get that straight.”
Andrew laughed. “Funny you should choose that word, ‘straight’. Especially seeing as how we gays sure are helping you win your little Bella.”
“Yeah, it’s hilarious. Now what was so incredibly urgent?”
Andrew slid a manicured finger down Reece’s chest. “I want more money, Daddy Warbucks.”
A boom of a laugh escaped Reece’s lips. “Don’t we all,” he returned. “I hope you didn’t bring me down here and waste my time for that. I haven’t got time for your games, Andrew. You’ll get what you get per our agreement.” Reece turned and headed straight for the door, the sun beaming in on Andrew when he opened the door to leave.
Andrew rushed after him, squinting in the afternoon sun. “Wait! Reece! I know about Luke.”
Reece turned halfway. “What about Luke?”
“He confessed everything to me—about how you used him to make sure Bella wasn’t falling for anyone else? And about how it backfired on you both, and now he thinks he’s in love with her. I think we have a mutual interest here.”
Reece turned towards him and stormed, stopping short when he got inches away from Andrew’s face. “Let me tell you something, you little prick: today is not the day to mess with me.”
Andrew checked his nails nonchalantly, flicked away some invisible lint, and then returned his hand to his hip. “The way I see it, Reece, you owe me money. I’m keeping Luke occupied, and I’m keeping your little secrets. Bella’s a beautiful woman. I’m sure she’d have no problem finding another man. She may have trouble trusting him, though, after she hears all about how devious you’ve been, costing her a good friend in the process. She and Luke were pretty tight until you had me step in.”
“How much?” Reece asked.
“I’m thinking another five thousand at the very least.”