Fool Me Once: A Bad Girl Romance
Page 15
I nodded again. I'd heard the man bragging about the extravagant purchases he made each quarter when his bonus arrived. He often blasted out an email to the entire company, complete with pictures of his latest sports car, vacation home, or silicone enhanced mistress of a questionable age.
"So Walker usually hands off that paperwork to his assistant, never wants to go through it himself," Judy kept going. The woman looked almost ecstatic, barely holding back from clapping her chubby hands together with glee. "And this time, that Ruby girl must have noticed! She changed around the paperwork to have him request that the funds be withdrawn and deposited to her, rather than to himself, and wrote up letters and such to that effect. And then – and this is the best part-" Judy had to pause for a moment to collect herself, grinning so widely that it looked like her jaw might drop off, "she somehow got him to sign a statement that he was giving the money to her in apology for all the sexual advances!"
That did sound like Ruby, I had to admit. For a moment, before I forgot myself, I felt the corners of my mouth tug up in a little smile.
That little smile, despite how quickly it vanished, didn't escape Marcus's attention. "At least something made you smile once today, man," he said, looking at me. "Walker's trying to keep it all quiet, but he can't contain a story like this. Your girl's fast becoming a legend around here!"
But that brought me crashing back down to Earth. "She's not my girl anymore," I told him, turning away. "Thanks for telling me, Judy."
"Any time – and don't be afraid to bring that cute little butt of yours down here again if you need anything else, now!" she called after me as I left.
Marcus, however, didn't take the hint. "Dane, man, come on!" he called out, jogging after me. "Why are you so worked up over this girl? Hadn't the two of you only been dating for a month or so?"
"Yes." That was the truth. "I'm not worked up over her." That was a lie.
"Nope," Marcus said, pulling up alongside me. I reached out to push the button for the elevator, but he put his hand in front of me, blocking me from entering. "I don't buy it. What aren't you telling me?"
I turned to him, tightening my brows and intending to tell him off. Why couldn't he leave me alone, let me stew in my misery, wallow in my despair? But although I opened my mouth, I couldn't seem to make the words come out.
Marcus didn't deserve my anger. He really was my best friend, and he deserved to know the truth.
"How about a coffee break?" I suggested, pointing vaguely downstairs.
He checked his watch. "It's after noon. Make it a beer instead of coffee, and you got it. Hell, we could probably knock off work early today – it's not like Walker's going to call us out on it, not when he's all panicked over losing his bonus check."
Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to argue with that logic. "Sure. A beer sounds good."
Twenty minutes later, we were both at the bar in The Local, cold glasses dripping condensation in front of us. Marcus held his tongue for a few minutes, at least, letting me get in a few long pulls of beer.
"I can't just sit here in silence forever," he finally pointed out.
I groaned. "Okay. You know that Ruby and I were seeing each other, right?"
He nodded, waiting.
"Well, what you don't know is that, on that last day, when she was about to run off with the money-" I stopped, forced myself to take a deep breath. Get through it, Dane. "I ran into her. On her way out."
"Oh, shit," Marcus echoed softly, but didn't otherwise interrupt.
I nodded. "Exactly. And I saw that she had checks, from IDS, made out to herself. Checks for a lot of money."
"And you let her go?"
That was part of it, but not the worst. I had to keep on talking, had to get it all out. "She asked me to come with her, Marcus," I said, fighting the urge to just put my head down on the bar, in amid the sticky puddles of half-dried beer. "She wanted me to run away with her, go off with all the money, escape to someplace far away. And I almost said yes."
"Well, why didn't you?"
Okay, that wasn't the response I'd been expecting. I lifted my head and looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Come on, are you crazy?" Marcus shook his head, took a swallow of his own beer. "You've got this gorgeous girl, smart as a whip, and you're totally head over heels in love with her-"
"What? No, I'm not-"
"-and she offers you the chance of a lifetime, to escape to a life of island bliss, along with probably close to a million dollars? And you said no to all of that?" Marcus stared at me, his face full of incomprehension. "Did you just have a moment of temporary insanity, or something like that?"
"I, I-" I didn't know where to begin. "I'm not in love with her!"
"We both know that's a lie," Marcus countered, perfectly mirroring the thought inside my own head. "You always do this, man. You repress your feelings, try and act the way that you think is proper. It's why you insist on sticking around to finish all that work assigned to you, why you're worried to just open up and admit that you did something crazy."
"Yeah, like falling in love with a felon," I said gloomily.
"No," Marcus countered me, gently but firmly. "Come on, there you go again, being so hard on yourself. You fell for a woman, a smart one. And not bad to look at, I'll admit." He held his hands up as I narrowed my gaze at him. "Hey, don't get upset for me speaking the truth. And maybe the two of you belong together, to balance each other out. She's the wild one, and you're the one with the stick up your ass."
"You're not making me feel much better, here," I pointed out to him.
"Yeah, but at least now you've got some proper anger going on, instead of just being all gloomy and mopey. And furthermore-"
Marcus paused, reaching for his pocket, as the tinny tunes of "Baby Got Back" started playing. "What?" he asked me, as I raised my eyebrows. "It's my girl's ringtone, and she approves!"
His girl... was Marcus dating someone? I vaguely remembered him telling me about some new girl he was seeing, but I couldn't recall a name, much less a face. "Who is it?" I asked.
"Dude, you've met her. It's Ruby's friend, Kelsey. We started chatting after that first party, and kind of hit it off." This just raised more questions, but Marcus held up a finger to forestall them as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey, baby, what's up?"
He frowned. "What, now? Really?"
Another pause, and then Marcus nodded, as if forgetting that Kelsey couldn't see the gesture. "Yeah, hold on. We're at the bar, so there's a television right here." He lowered the phone, waving his hand towards Freddie, the bartender. "Hey, where's the remote?"
Freddie frowned, but brought the remote over. Marcus practically snatched it out of his hand, pointing it up at the television that currently displayed a rerun of some old sports game. He hit buttons until the channel changed to the local news program.
"What's going on?" I asked, feeling lost.
"Just watch," he answered enigmatically, thumbing up the volume until we could all hear the voice of the news anchor.
I didn't understand what was happening, but I watched the screen, hoping for some clue. It looked like a typical news broadcast to me, with our local anchor sitting behind the desk and reciting the evening's top stories.
"And finally, on a more heartwarming note," he went on, shuffling his papers theatrically in front of him, "a business leader embracing his softer side. We've all heard about CEOs taking huge 'bonus checks' as payouts, even as they work to lower taxes and avoid fees and fines. But one CEO chose to put that bonus money to better use – by dividing it among several local charities."
"Hah, bet Walker's going to be mocking that guy tomorrow..." I began, but the rest of the sentence faded from my lips as I saw the picture of the CEO in question appear over the news anchor's shoulder.
The picture showed a smugly smirking Karson Walker!
My mouth fell open. No way. It was impossible. Walker would never part with his bonus check, not even if his life depended on it. He'd force his assailant
to have to pry the check out of his cold, dead hands.
So if Walker hadn't made that donation to these charities, it could only have come from-
"That's right," Marcus said, grinning as he watched the realization dawn on my face. "Looks like maybe your girl isn't quite as selfish as you think, after all."
I waved him to silence, locked on the television as I devoured the rest of the report. There wasn't much else to the story – and no statement had come from Walker. The checks had been sent in by mail, with a short note explaining that he gave the money away "because someone very special told him that it was the right thing to do".
"And to whomever that special person might be, the charities all extend their deepest thanks," the anchor finished, giving the camera a practiced smile before moving on to the next story.
I sat there, stunned, as Marcus turned the television back to the sports program. And then, in a hectic jerk of motion, I hauled myself up to my feet.
"Where are you going?" Marcus asked in bemusement as I grabbed my coat, leaving my half-finished beer behind me.
"To find her," I answered him, already dashing for the door. "Thanks for the beer!"
And I was outside before I heard his reply, looking around at the skyscrapers of downtown. My heart thudded inside my chest, surging with a sudden and unexpected feeling.
Hope.
Now, if I was Ruby, where would I want to be?
Chapter Twenty-Four
RUBY
*
Maybe I had a brain parasite. Could that explain all the crazy symptoms I'd been experiencing?
I should have been happy. No, scratch that – I should have been freaking ecstatic, over the moon, celebrating every night that I'd finally managed to get my hands on more money than I could dream of spending! I ought to be out at the club every night, pouring drinks for new friends, flirting with any hot guy I choose, and just having the time of my life. I ought to be heading off every few days for parts unknown, exploring without a care in the world, discovering all the great adventures that life had to offer me.
And I swear, that's what I intended to do. As soon as I made it out of the lobby, I headed straight for the train station. I'd grab a ticket to the first place that looked interesting, where I'd be able to find a bank. There, I could deposit the checks, drool for a minute over my almost disgustingly high bank balance, and then decide where I wanted to have my first adventure.
Hawaii? Spain, perhaps? Some sun-drenched isle in the Mediterranean, off the coast of Greece? Perhaps head to one of those perfect white sand resorts in Thailand?
At the train station, I sighed as I looked at the list of possible destinations. All of them were landlocked, and none of them sounded especially glamorous. I ended up picking Chicago, figuring that, at the least, I could easily catch an international flight from there.
Shame about leaving my luggage at Dane's apartment, but it couldn't be helped. He'd probably go home and throw it all right in the dumpster, anyway, I told myself. After how I'd run out on him? He wouldn't want to save any memories.
He loved me – no, don't think about it. Block it out.
Still, more than a million dollars was definitely enough money to buy a whole new wardrobe. As I waited for the train to arrive, I fantasized about new clothes, imagining all the things that I'd need to purchase for myself. I'd also have to pick up a new set of luggage to hold all the clothes – maybe something by Gucci or Prada...
But whenever I let my thoughts wander too far, I kept on seeing Dane's dismayed, disappointed expression, how he'd looked at me when I tried to ask him to come along with me. He hadn't considered saying yes for a second. Instead, he'd looked at me with shame, as if he'd imagined that I was better than that.
Sitting by myself on the train platform, I crossed my arms and stuck my tongue out at the empty seat across from me. Well, screw him! I was who I was, and I had no plans of changing myself for any man, no matter how much I enjoyed spending time with him, how much I thought about him, missed him, wanted to see him again...
The train finally arrived, startling me out of my mixed and confusing mire of thoughts. I jerked up, off of my seat, starting towards the open doors – but then paused, feeling something holding me back.
Why didn't I want to go? What was keeping me from climbing aboard and getting out of here?
I knew the answer, of course, in the back of my head. Dane. It couldn't be anyone else but him – even now, after he'd let me go, the man still had his hooks sunk into me, pulling me back towards him!
He loved me, he said it – no, don't think about it.
I needed to sever those ties. I glared down at my feet, commanding them with all the mental energy I could muster. Walk forward, I told them. Get on this train. Leave Dane behind in my past, where he belongs, and think of all the wonderful places I can take you in the future. I'll even buy you some great pedicures, I wheedled to them in desperation.
No dice. My body, acting out in a fit of betrayal, refused to board the train to Chicago (for which, might I add, I'd already purchased the ticket! So much for that money...).
Fine. Maybe I needed to stay here. And it wouldn't be so bad, after all, I tried to console myself. I could cash the checks at the bank first thing tomorrow, just in case Walker figured out what I did and managed to get a cancellation order out. And given my incoming rush of wealth, I didn't see any reason not to enjoy my new, temporary accommodations downtown. I made my way towards the tallest skyscraper I could see, keeping my eyes peeled for an attentive bellhop to mark a high quality hotel.
I finally found a Ritz-Carleton and checked in, booking the biggest room that they had available. I felt a little rush of excitement as I handed over my card to book the suite, but that little thrill vanished by the time that the elevator had dropped me off at my floor. I entered the suite and plopped down on the couch, ignoring the tasteful artwork, the massive four-poster bed and the equally huge tub with inlaid high-powered water jets. I grabbed the television remote off of the marble coffee table in front of me, turned on the huge screen, and sat back as the light and motion washed over me.
Sitting there, I replayed the last couple of hours, my escape from the IDS offices, how Dane chased after me, how he told me in the elevator how he loved me.
I froze, repeating those words from him, over and over. They played in my head like a broken record, forever skipping and repeating the same section. I couldn't block them out any longer.
Dane loved me. I'd stood next to him, my arms wrapped around a folder full of checks from IDS that would drain his boss's bank accounts, and he told me how he loved me. I'd been on the verge of getting away, and then he asked me to stay with him, to give it all up and accept a life with him.
And I nearly said yes, right then and there.
But I couldn't do it. Some part of me insisted that, after going to all of this trouble to get my hands on this money, after enduring all that Karson Walker had thrown at me, I deserved this money. I'd earned this! I wasn't going to give it up for any man, not even for Dane!
I'd made the right choice, I insisted to myself. Men came and went, but money was the most useful thing in the world. And I'd not only managed to get my hands on enough to last me for decades, but it had come at the expense of a total ass, someone who completely deserved to take his losses.
Dane was just an unfortunate consequence of my plans, someone caught in the middle.
Still, lying on the couch, I couldn't help wondering what might have happened if things had gone another way.
What if he hadn't chased after me, instead just letting me go and trusting that he'd see me at home that evening? Well, the answer to that one was easy, I told myself. If he'd let me go, if he didn't insist on spilling out his emotional baggage by telling me that he loved me, I'd probably be happily on my way to Chicago now. I'd be sitting on the train, gazing out the window, daydreaming about where I'd head next, and struggling to keep from kicking my legs back and forth in childish glee at a
ll the money now belonging to me.
What if I'd gone the other way, though? What if, when Dane asked me to give up the checks, stay with him, I'd said yes?
What if, when he told me that he loved me, I answered him back and told him that I also loved him?
I couldn't deny it, not to myself in this silent room. I felt that love beating inside my chest, a battered and bruised little thing, but not yet completely broken. I did my best to snuff it out, but it just flared back up into guttering, determined life each time I took my mind off of it. All I had to do was let my eyes drift shut, and I could practically see Dane's face in front of me, imagine him looking down at me.
"You're being an idiot, Ruby," my apparition of Dane told me.
"Yeah, I know," I answered it miserably, still squeezing my eyes shut. I didn't want to look at him, even if it was just a figment of my imagination. "But you'll go away, and I can go be an idiot somewhere warm with lots of sand, waves, and sexy waiters in short shorts who bring me tasty drinks on command."
"Sounds nice," he remarked, and I narrowed my shut eyes. What game was he playing? "But there's a problem with that plan."
"And what might that be?"
"I won't be there," he answered. Even with my eyes closed, I heard the smirk in his voice.
My eyes snapped shut, and I glared up at the mental image I'd summoned up. He stood next to the couch, arms crossed, aristocratic features frowning down at me. "That's kind of the point," I snapped up at him. "If you're not there, it seems like everything's working out for me! No one to turn me in, no one to keep harping on me like my damn conscience."
"You won't be happy," he said simply.
I sighed, mentally forced the apparition to disappear. I knew that he was telling the truth, and I couldn't argue against him.
A couple hours later, I decided that devouring half of the menu offered as room service probably hadn't been the best idea. Now, as well as feeling heartbroken, I felt disgusted with myself for a whole second reason. I let out a burp, pushing the mostly finished plate of chicken away from me and back onto the table with its fellows.