by Linda Verji
“You know your way out, Mrs. Clayton?” Chryssa asked as she tucked the rest of the documents into a black folder. Hanna didn’t bother answering her. She was too angry at herself for underestimating her. Shrugging Chryssa and Kian left the boardroom.
For a couple of minutes, Hanna sat alone in the room as she tried to regain her composure. These things did not happen to her.
She was Hanna Clayton née Simms!
After leaving Harrington Shultz, she drove home. She was just not in the mood to go back to her own office. As she drove she fingered the envelope her private investigator had given her yesterday. It had his report on Chryssa.
Randall Montgomery was the best in the business for a reason. He was thorough. He’d gone through the bitch’s life with a fine-tooth comb. Chryssa was like a stupid girl who threw rocks at her neighbors’ glass houses when she was living in the biggest glass house on the block.
Though her professional record was cleaner than sheets on laundry day, her personal life was a mess. Her mother committed suicide, her father was a bank robber and perhaps the most interesting part was that she was a crazy bitch - literally.
As soon as Hanna drove into their estate, her first sight was that of her husband’s car. Wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere in Long Island getting whipped by his mistress? Kissing her teeth, Hanna opened the front door then stomped up the stairs.
She had just reached the top landing when she heard fast footstep behind her and then his whiny voice, “Hanna.”
She briefly considered ignoring him. However, he’d probably come groveling to her room like an idiot. She turned to face him.
Richard Clayton the Third, or Rick to close family, had never been an attractive man. But age hadn’t been kind to him. If Hanna had to describe his body shape she would put it somewhere between a short pumpkin and a barrel that had somehow managed to squeeze itself into a blue shirt and beige khaki pants.
His hairline was receding fast and the way he slicked back the last remaining strands did not help at all. When he was rushed like he was now, his cheeks shook with the effort growing into a sickening shade of pink. Even the penetrating green eyes could not save that ugly mug he called a face. He was more suited to being a supermarket attendant than as a senator’s son.
If he wasn’t a senator’s son she wouldn’t even have looked twice at him but she’d needed a quick exit out of the tumbling house of cards that was Malcolm Simms’s empire and Rick had provided it.
“What do you want?” she asked as she looked down at him both literally and figuratively.
“So he found out?” he asked as he took another stair up.
She lifted one beautifully arched eyebrow in question but he didn’t elaborate. Okay I’ll bite. She asked, “Who found out what?”
“Keifer Hardrick. He found out RJ was his.” It was a statement not a question.
She started to walk up the stairs then turned abruptly. The matter between her and Kian had been private. Slowly she turned, emphasizing each word as she asked, “How did you know?”
“It was in today’s newspaper?”
No. No. No. She rushed down the stairs.
Richard grabbed her as she made to pass him, “I want a divorce.”
“No!” She unclamped the chubby digits from her upper arm. He asked once every month. Sometimes he peppered it with how he was in love with his latest mistress. Sometimes he wanted to travel the world. Her answer was always the same. No. He could do anything he wanted, but she wasn’t leaving him until she found something better. And right now she needed his name for her career.
He let her go without another word. As she knew he would. Weak!
She took short fast steps towards the study. The newspaper sat on her desk. She unfolded it quickly scanning the headlines. It was on page six. It wasn’t even anything big, just a tiny article by an indescript writer tucked into the corner of the page. Yet it was everything.
‘FROM DRUG LORD’S DAUGHTER TO NEW YORK’S FINEST ATTORNEY’
Her mind reeled in panic as she quickly scanned the article. The writer had even included details about her and Kian’s relationship along with the alleged bribing. She’d been careful not to make any overt accusations but it was all there. The newspaper dropped out of her hands to the floor in a hushed rustle of paper.
She was done.
She was never going to be a judge.
It didn’t matter who she got to endorse her. Once her name was submitted, someone would remember this article and the investigations would start. The digging would only bring out more secrets. She was done. No one wanted a gangster’s daughter handling their criminals.
Hanna sat down heavily on her seat.
For a while she just sat there letting the implications of the article whir around in her mind. Then the questions started to pour in. How did they know? It couldn’t be Kian because like her, he preferred the past to remain just that – the past. She ran all possible scenarios till she came to the most possible conclusion.
Chryssa.
Hanna didn’t put it past her to leak something to the press, but most likely this was a result of the scene she’d caused at the hotel. There were people listening to them there while she had spilled all of Hanna’s secrets like they were gifts. The bitch had not only managed to snatch R.J. but Hanna’s career too with her demonstration of power.
In one swoop Chryssa had laid her bare.
Hanna felt an anger so acute, it eclipsed her senses. Chryssa. The icy tentacles of her rage reached into her body weaving their way into her veins, each limb and finally to her heart where they wound their way through the pulsing organ like a poisonous python. Her brain began to scream vengeance.
No one did this to her.
She was Hanna Simms.
She picked up the envelope containing Chryssa’s life story. She turned it upside down then shook, letting its contents spill onto the table. Pictures of Chryssa lay spread on the mahogany taunting her. Hanna focused of one of her gazing up at Eli Stone. She ran one perfectly manicured finger along Chryssa’s smiling features.
Hanna smiled too.
CHAPTER 31
Eli didn’t come home that night or the next or the next. He called at night and in the morning to check up on her, but he didn’t come home. Chryssa missed him badly. Not just because of the sex, but because the house felt empty without him. She felt empty without him.
So many times she’d put her hand out to pick up the phone to call him and beg him to come back. Every time that little voice in her head would stop her. Was this really what she wanted? Did she want to give up all she believed about marriage for him? Was it even fair for her to call him back? She was just like her mother. She would end up making his life miserable. He would regret it and walk out on her.
“Bullshit!” Zain exclaimed, one eyebrow arched and her lips pursed as if she didn’t believe a word Chryssa was saying.
“What do you mean bullshit? I’m being real with you and you’re calling it bullshit?” Chryssa complained trying to swipe her with her arm, but Zain moved away quickly.
They were on the roof of the hospital. Chryssa’s official story for coming here was that she’d come to check on Zain to make sure her first day of work after the birth of the twins was coming along great. The truth was it’d been to see if she could catch a glimpse of Eli and maybe if he saw her he would be inspired to come back home and drop the whole marriage subject. Zain had laughed – actually laughed – at how Chryssa’s face fell when she told her that Eli had the day off.
“Please girl,” Zain scoffed as she leaned over the stone barrier to stare at the car park several floors beneath them. “We both know all that stuff about you feeling like bringing him into your life will ruin his is just crap. Eli is a big boy – and a doctor. He knows exactly what he’s getting into.”
“Yeah. But he doesn’t know what it really is like to live with me when I’m not me.” Chryssa explained. Her psychotic breaks would make his mother’s look like
just a cold.
“And he’ll never know unless you give him a chance,” Zain said as she took a sip of her yoghurt through a straw.
Chryssa wrinkled her nose as her stomach rumbled in protest. Temporarily suspending their conversation, “How are you even drinking that?”
“This perfectly good yog….oooh.” Zain nodded her head knowingly as she threw the half full plastic container to a bin. She stepped closer to Chryssa, hands outstretched to touch her barely -there bump. “Baby doesn’t like the smell of bananas?”
“Ey. Step away from the tummy,” Chryssa said as she ducked to the right. “You’re just using this as an excuse to fulfill your lesbo fantasies with me. Perv.”
Zain’s laughter trilled over the wide open space as she stepped away from Chryssa, her hands raised in surrender. “You just wait until you’re showing. Everyone’s gonna want to touch.”
“Nobody’s touching this,” Chryssa said gesturing to her body clad in a stripped purple and white shirt, black pants and heels. Her clothes had started getting tight on her so she was getting all the wear out of her pant suits while she still could. She qualified, “Nobody but Eli.”
“At the rate you’re going even he won’t be there to touch it.” Zain sobered up as she made the observation. “Being scared for Eli isn’t really your problem. You wanna know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway,” Chryssa said as she peered over the side of the building. An ambulance had just rushed in. A group of doctors crowded around the vehicle as the double doors opened and a pair of EMTs pushed out a stretcher.
“You’re selfish,” Zain said.
Her head snapped towards Zain, “I’m not selfish.”
“You’re selfish,” Zain insisted with conviction. “You’re willing to give out things, but you never want to give yourself. Can I be honest with you?”
“Will saying ‘No’ stop you?”
“You’re too used to getting your own way and doing exactly as you please. You’ve been making the rules too long and with Eli you know that it will have to stop. Now you’ll actually have to listen to someone else and trust them.” Zain said. “You’ll have to share the most important thing to you. You. And it’s scaring you.”
“I’m not scared,” Chryssa protested.
Zain rolled her eyes in response.
No! Chryssa didn’t want to marry him because fifty percent of couples divorced anyway. She didn’t want to marry him because of her bipolar. She didn’t want to marry him because there was no man who was faithful. Zain was wrong.
“Do you love him?”Zain cut into Chryssa’s confused thoughts.
It was the same question Eli had asked her and she still didn’t have an answer. Instead of answering Zain’s question, she asked, “How do you know you love Lucky?”
“I just know I do.” Zain shrugged. “He’s the last person I think of when I fall asleep and the first person I think of when I wake up. He’s the only man who can get me to do as he says with just one word.
“You know those girls we used to laugh at how stupid they were because their man did stupid things all the time and made them cry yet they still stayed with that man?” The girls we used to look at and say ‘Not me’.” Her face softened, a small smile playing on her mouth as she spoke of Lucky, “When I’m with him, I’m that girl. Even when he’s being a dick, I just want to pick up the phone and make sure he’s okay. I would do anything for that man. He could make me look like a damn fool if he wanted. But I trust him not to because I know he loves me-”
Relentless ringing interrupted her stream of words. She pushed aside her doctor’s jacket to check the beeper on her belt before groaning, “Ugh! Duty calls. I have to go.”
“Oh,” Chryssa said a bit disappointed.
“Sorry. But we can talk later in the evening.” Zain said reaching to hug her. She finished it off by patting Chryssa on the back. “But think about it. Don’t lose Eli just because you’re too scared to share.”
Even after Zain left, Chryssa stayed on the roof thinking. Logic said that this had the potential to fail. Did she love Eli enough to let the logic go?
***
This was a thriving practice.
It was in the comfortable leather seats that lined the walls. It was in the custom made wooden table at the center that held magazines for patients. It was in the luxurious beige carpeting that started right from the door and covered the whole floor. It was in the calming classical music that played so low, you couldn’t hear it till you really listened.
Madness obviously paid well.
Hanna walked into the offices of Martin Stiles, M.D, her heels barely making a sound on the lush carpeting. The receptionist, a young chubby red-head with freckles that started from the roots of her hair to God knows where, lifted her head from the fashion magazine she had been thumbing through to smile at Hanna.
“Hello, I’m Rachel.” The receptionist stood up with a brilliant smile on her face. Hand outstretched, she asked, “How may I help you?”
Hanna ignored the hand as she said, “I’d like to see Dr. Stiles.”
The smile dimmed a bit at the obvious snub and Rachel sat down. She opened a black book labeled ‘Appointments’, unscrewed the top of her pen, holding it poised over the book to write, “I’m sorry it’s already five p.m.. Dr. Stiles can’t see you right now, but I can schedule you for an appoi-”
Hanna interrupted before Rachel could finish her statement. “I want to see him now.”
“He’s not available.” Rachel’s smile was completely gone now along with any semblance of welcome. Now her thin mouth was turned down in annoyance.
Hanna didn’t care. “Tell him that someone suicidal needs to see him.”
A psychiatrist couldn’t turn away someone who needed emergency care. Rachel looked Hanna up and down skeptically, her eyes lingering over the expensive Ralph Lauren suit Hanna had worn just for this occasion. She concluded, “You don’t look suicidal to me.”
“You don’t look stupid to me,” Hanna returned. The ‘but you are’ was implied. To emphasize her point, Hanna walked to the long windows that overlooked the busy streets below. Staring out them, she asked, “How far up are we?”
Rachel gave in, “Who should I tell him is here?”
“Hanna,” she said. “Hanna Simms.”
Hanna waited for her to call the good doctor. After a few minutes, the receptionist waved her into Dr. Stiles’ office. The picture Randall had given her of him was nothing like the real deal. The green eyes that looked up as she entered the office were the same, but there the similarities ended.
The veritable Greek god looks of a lithe model-like body, smoldering lips and raven black hair had been replaced by a salty beard and a chubby body-paunchy in the middle. He looked nothing like the man he’d been before he became Dr. Martin Stiles.
“Hanna, come in. Come in.” Dr. Stiles smiled welcomingly as he gestured for her to come into the room. The lock snapped slightly as she closed the door behind her.
Her smile just as brilliant as his, she came closer to the desk saying, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jacques.”
There was an immediate flicker of fear in the man’s eyes and he sat up in his chair. But he quickly covered it with a smile. “You must be mistaken. I’m Martin. Dr. Martin Stiles.”
“No I’m not mistaken Jacques Herriot.” Hanna pulled up the seat opposite him and sat down, one leg crossed over the other demurely and her bag on her knee. “I see you lost the French accent completely.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His smile that looked almost painful, stretched tight across his face as it was. He stood up almost knocking his seat to the floor in his rush.
There was a satchel on the floor, next to the bookcase behind him. His fingers shook as he picked it then started to shove papers into it indiscriminately. He said, “You don’t seem suicidal to me and I’m not taking on any new clients. I’ve got an appointment elsewhere right
now, so if you’ll excuse me-”
“No you’re not excused,” Hanna said. She removed the envelope Randall had handed her earlier today and slapped it on the table in front of Martin Stiles formerly Jacques Herriot. “Why don’t you take a look into this?”
Several years ago when Jacques was just starting out in the practice, he’d gotten a new client, fifteen year old Élise Seville. At first the relationship was purely professional. But as always is the case between an attractive young man and a quickly developing young lady - things happened.
He would’ve gotten away with the illicit affair if Élise hadn’t gone off and slashed her own wrists when he’d tried to end it after growing a conscience. She’d also conveniently left a suicide note declaring that Jacques had killed her and her diary beside it giving a day to day account of their affair. It was official; Jacques was screwed.
Long story short, he’d disappeared from Paris and reappeared on American soil as Martin Stiles. He’d neatly tucked away his past into a future of a thriving practice, a nice family and picket fences.
Hanna watched the doctor’s face as he read the report. He went from panicked to full on terrified in a matter of minutes. He sat back down on his seat heavily. His breath came in deep gulps as the realization hit him. Hanna had just slapped him out of his American dream. When he found his voice he only had one question, “What do you want?”
Hanna smiled.
When Hanna smiled it lit up her face and her eyes twinkled engagingly. In times when she was genuinely amused it was easy to forget the piranha that rested beneath the expensive suit. She said, “That’s a good question.”
CHAPTER 32
The moment he got to the reception at the maternity wing, he saw Chryssa and his pulse jumped in excitement. She was seated on one of the waiting couches one leg crossed over the other. There was a magazine on her lap, but she wasn’t even reading it. Instead she was staring blankly in front of her seemingly unaware of her surroundings.
She looked just as unhappy as he felt.
Their ritual night and morning phone-calls were now filled with one word answers, short phrases and empty chatter as both of them avoided talking about the elephant in the room. Eli didn’t want to pressure her into giving in. If they were doing this he wanted it to be her choice. If she needed time to get past her ego, past or whatever it was that was keeping her from making the right choice, then that was what he was going to give her.