When Fate Isn't Enough

by Isabelle Richards

  “What’s with the coat?” she asks. “It’s a million degrees in here.”

  I unbutton and open my jacket wide enough for only her to see.

  She covers her mouth with her hand. “Someone got busy.”

  “Yeah, well, now it’s time for this someone to go home and stain treat. Can you help me find Gavin?”

  She links her arm through mine. “Gladly. I need to ream him out about senselessly destroying couture! He better have a damn good dry cleaner.”

  We walk all the way around the club twice without finding him. We’re about to recheck the VIP section when we spot James yelling at someone, but from this angle, we can’t tell who. His face is beet red, and his fists are clenched, though. Em and I walk over to check on him.

  “I’ve put up with a lot over the years, but you’ve gone too far this time. We’re over.”

  James’s body is still blocking my view of the person he’s talking to, but I can tell this conversation doesn’t warrant an audience.

  I pull on Em’s arm. “Let’s give him some space.”

  “Hell no,” she says. “That’s O.”

  I stand on my tip-toes to get a better look. I see black hair, but that could be anyone. “How do you know? You’ve never met her.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That bitch hacked your email. You think I didn’t look her up?”

  Fair point. I tug on Em’s arm again, trying to get her to leave.

  James shouts, “He’s my best friend, and you were dry humping him against the wall!”

  I freeze. “Liam?” It has to be Liam. There’s no way Gavin would do that to me. Not with her. Not after what we just did.

  Em shakes her head. “He’s been with me the whole night. I’m going to kill this bitch.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, Em walks over to James and wraps her arms around his neck. “James, darling, where have you been?” She turns his face so she can kiss his lips.

  I’m not sure who looks more surprised, O or James.

  “Just who in the hell are you?” O screeches.

  Em bats her eyes at him, then looks at O. “You must be the O I’ve heard so much about. So much trouble caused by such an insignificant creature. For all the drama you stir up, I was expecting a real stunner, but you’re so ordinary. Really, James, I can’t believe you’ve been jerked around by this inconsequential nothing.”

  “Oh, please. Another wretched American who thinks she can swoop in and nab herself a British gent. Pathetic. James, tell me you’re not falling for this,” O replies.

  Em snuggles into James’s arms and flashes O a condescending smile. “Olivia, I eat wannabe mean girls like you for breakfast. You’ve spent your life whoring around, and now you’re nothing but a cum depository. At one point, you may have had James wrapped around your pinkie, but that time is done. As you can see, his fingers are needed elsewhere. If you ever come near James or Gavin again, I will personally destroy you.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” O shouts.

  Em tips her head back and releases a sinister laugh. “Oh, I’m your worst nightmare, bitch.” Em grabs her phone and types away.

  Seconds later, O’s phone blows up with notifications.

  “Check your phone,” Em says. “I just tweeted that you’re sick with food poisoning and everyone should wish you well. Notice who’s responding? Society people. Business people. Athletes. Movie stars. I know everyone. Today it’s just food poisoning; tomorrow it could be anything. Syphilis? Embezzling? Kiddie porn? I can be very creative. Stay the fuck away from my friends, or I will end you.”

  Notifications come from O’s phone non-stop. “Was this supposed to intimidate me?” she says, holding up her noisy phone. “Who cares if you have lots of Twitter followers? I could just as easily switch the game around on you. Let’s get one thing straight. James loves me. He’s been in love with me since he was fourteen, and he’ll love me til the end of his days. And as far as Gav—”

  Em grabs James and kisses him as if he’s going off to war. When they finally break apart, Em looks at O. “Oh, are you still here? How creepy! Just watching us make out. Well, if that’s what you’re into.” She smirks and pushes James up against the wall, knocking O over.

  When they don’t stop to see if she’s okay, O storms off in a fury.

  “The coast is clear, guys,” I announce when she is gone.

  “Emily, that was the most stonking thing I’ve ever witnessed,” James says. “I thought she was going to combust she was so angry. How did you get so many people to respond on Twitter?”

  She wipes lipstick off James’s mouth. “I wasn’t lying. I know everyone, everywhere. Destroying her would be child’s play. She’d never get a job, date, or friend by the time I was done with her.”

  I hate to spoil their happy moment, but I need answers. “Who was she with?”

  James looks at me. “Lily…”

  “Who, James? Who was she with?”

  He looks down and shakes his head. I know the answer by the look of devastation on his face.

  “Em, I need out of here.” I make a mad dash through the club.

  As I get to the exit, James grabs my arm. He’s red-faced and breathless. “Crikey, you’re fast!” He rests his hands on his knees while he catches his breath. “Look, it may not be what it looks like. I went to find a friend in one of the back rooms, and I walked in on them. All their clothes were on, but she was all over him, and I didn’t stay long enough to get a better read on the situation.”

  I tilt my head. “It sounds pretty obvious what was going on.”

  Em hugs James. “Please tell everyone we left.”

  James grabs my elbow. “I’m going to head out as well. For what it’s worth, I want to believe Gavin wouldn’t do that.”

  I shrug. “But he did, didn’t he?”

  James nods, and breaks my heart.

  Em puts her arm around me and guides me through the exit. The valet hails a cab for us. As the cab pulls away, I look back, part of me hoping Gavin will rush out of the club with an explanation. As the building disappears from view, so does my hope that this is just a terrible misunderstanding.

  The rest of the ride is a blur. Em doesn’t ask, and I don’t offer. I’m not ready to talk yet.

  Once we’re in her suite, she hands me a pair of pajamas. “Take a long shower. I’ll order us a bottle of wine, and then you can tell me what happened.”

  During my shower, I try to piece together the evening. Dinner was fabulous, then everything went to shit at the club. He ignored me, then fucked me against the wall, and now this crap with O. Nothing makes sense. After I get out of the shower, Em hands me a glass of wine. I relay the events of the night to Em, and she’s just as dumbfounded as I am.

  “We’re missing something,” she says. “I know for a fact Gavin despises her. I was there when he found out she hacked your email. There’s no way he would do anything with that twat.”

  I pull my knees to my chest. “But what about what James walked in on? How do you explain that?”

  She takes a sip of wine. “James said she was all over him, not vice versa. I’m guessing James walked in on her throwing herself at Gavin. I’d bet my bottom dollar it’s that simple.”

  I shake my head. “How many times did we have conversations like this about Ash? Rationalizing his behavior, finding excuses and plausible explanations, when the simple truth was always staring us in the face. The only thing that is ‘that simple’ is that I seem to be attracted to lying, cheating scumbags.”

  She puts down her wine glass and scoots closer to me on the sofa. “This is different, because Gavin is not Ash. He would never hurt you this way.”

  Feeling defeated, I slouch forward. “I wish I could believe you, but I can’t. I don’t know what to believe.”

  She takes my untouched wine. “You need to go to bed.”

  I nod and drag my feet to one of the bedrooms.

  I’m exhausted, but I can’t fall asleep. I keep lookin
g at my phone, hoping he’ll call or text. But the damn thing remains silent. I even turn it off and on, just in case it froze up. Around three, I lose my patience with waiting. I grab my purse and coat from the chair by the door and close the door quietly, hoping I don’t wake up Em. After walking through the deserted lobby, I find the doorman watching Googlebox, a show I’ve become shamelessly addicted to. After commenting on the episode he’s watching, I ask him to hail me a cab.

  The doorman hails a cab. The hotel is less than three blocks from Gavin’s, so even in the pouring rain, it takes us no time to get there. To shield myself from the rain, I pull my coat over my head and run to the building.

  Just my luck. The door’s locked, and the night doorman’s nowhere to be found. I ring the bell and pound on the door, but it’s in vain. I have to let my coat fall back to dig through my clutch for the key. Between the pulverizing rain and the heavy wind, the overhang does nothing to protect me, making it hard to see inside my small purse. I finally find the key and unlock the door. Shivering, I rush to the elevator.

  My teeth are chattering by the time I enter Gavin’s apartment. He’s sitting on the sofa in the dark. The street lights provide enough light for me to see that he’s drinking.

  “I was wondering if you were going to show up,” he says in a voice that sends chills up my spine. I’ve never heard him so angry.

  Trying to stay warm, I wrap my arms around myself. “I went to Em’s hotel.”

  He tips back his glass. “Em’s, huh? You sure about that?”

  Not knowing what to make of him right now, I stay where I am. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where else would I have gone?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  Anger warms my body as I storm to him. “Why don’t you stop speaking in code and tell me what the hell is going on. What happened tonight?”

  He looks me in the eyes and laughs. “I was just about to ask you the same thing. What happened tonight, Lily? I’m dying to know.”

  Fucking drunk asshole! I run my fingers through my sopping wet hair. “Enough with the god damn riddles! What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He puts his empty glass on the table and stands. He looks me in the eyes. “I can’t do this. I won’t.”

  “Do what?” I scream.

  “This.” He points between us. “I won’t do it.” He turns and walks out the door.

  When I hear the lock click into place, I scream and throw his glass at the door. As it shatters, I collapse on the sofa and sob.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I used to think my active imagination was my best asset. It makes me a hell of a writer, but this morning, I wish I could remove whatever part of the brain stores the imagination. An imaginationtomy. The last few hours have been pure torture while I thought about all the places he could be. Whose bed is he sleeping in? Or worse, not sleeping in.

  I have a love/hate relationship with that door. On one hand, I so desperately want it to open and for him to walk through it so we can talk this out. On the other hand, I’m so angry with him, I’m not sure I’m ready to see him. If I’m being honest, I’m petrified of what he might say. Em’s convinced this whole bit with O is some big misunderstanding, but something in my gut tells me there’s more going on. He wouldn’t have behaved that way if O had simply made a pass at him. I just don’t know anymore.

  The rain stops as the sun peeks over the horizon. Since he left without a bag, he’ll likely come back before work, and I don’t want to be here if he does. I change into jeans and a sweater, then pack my bags and return to Em’s hotel. I’m not sure what I’m going to do next, but I know it’s better to bring all my stuff so I have options.

  When I arrive at her room, Em’s getting ready for the day. She looks at my luggage. “What the hell happened?” She points at my closed bedroom door. “I thought you were still in there, sleeping.”

  Leaving my bag by the door, I follow her into her room. I sit on the edge of the tub and tell her about my cryptic conversation with Gavin while she puts on her makeup.

  She looks in the mirror while applying eyeliner. “This whole situation is FUBAR. I have no idea what was going through his head. That’s so unlike him. If I had to guess, he was just whiskey pissed.”

  “I’m too tired to decipher your Emisms. Translation please.”

  She puts the eyeliner back in her bag, then digs around for her mascara. “You know, drunk and angry beyond reason. Probably over something stupid and irrational that doesn’t amount to anything once the drunken stupor has vanished. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but I think this’ll work itself out.”

  “You’re supposed to be on my side,” I say, irritated.

  “I am on your side. I’m protecting you from yourself.” She puts the mascara wand to her lashes. “I’m pissed at him for hurting you, but as bad as it looks, I just don’t think he would ever cheat on you. I believe there’s an explanation, and I don’t want to see you lose faith in him or your relationship before you hear all the facts.”

  “Still sounds like you’re on his side,” I sneer.

  She looks at her watch. “Crap. I wish we could talk about this longer, but I’ve got to go. My lecture starts at eight thirty, and I can only imagine how long it’ll take me to get there. Love London. Hate London traffic.” She zips up her makeup bag and motions for me to follow her. “I’ve got the room until four, but I’ve left instructions that I’ll pay for the week if you want it. I think this drama will expire by midnight though. Stay here for the day, let the dust settle. If I know Gavin the way I think I do, he’ll be on his hands and knees before sundown. Either groveling for your forgiveness or—”

  I hold up my hand. “I get the picture, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. You didn’t see him before he stormed out. I’ve never seen him so dark. This isn’t going to have a quick fix.” If I even want to fix it.

  She tosses a few remaining odds and ends into her suitcase. “Have faith.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re one of the most cynical people I know. Isn’t it a tad hypocritical for you to tell me to have faith?”

  “You’re right. There are few things in this world I have faith in, and you, my dear, are one of them. I have hope for you.”

  After she zips up her suitcase, I give her a hug. “Thanks, Em. For everything.”

  “Anything for you.” She pulls away and frowns. “Just change this sweater. Where did you find this? I know I didn’t pack it for you.”

  “I bought it here.” I look down at my brown crewneck sweater. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “You can’t pull off earth tones! Have I taught you nothing?” She looks me up and down. “The boots work, though.” Her phone rings, and she looks at the caller ID. “That’s my driver. I’ve really got to go.” She gives me one last kiss on the cheek before running out the door.

  After closing the heavy drapes in the bedroom, I pull off my boots and jeans and climb back into bed. Hopefully after a long nap, I’ll find some of Em’s faith. Seconds after I close my eyes, my phone rings. Both relieved and hurt that it’s not Gavin’s ringtone, I answer the phone and hear,

  “Is this Lily?”

  I don’t recognize the number or the voice. “Who’s this?” I ask as I drop back onto my pillow.

  “We haven’t met. This is Sabrina, Max’s girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend? Needing to be more alert for this conversation, I sit up and lean against the headboard. “I was under the impression you were broken up,” I say with probably more attitude than I should.

  “We’re on a break,” she replies flatly.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay, whatever.” My memory is Max collecting his belongings off her front lawn when she threw him out. In what world is that ‘on a break’?

  “I’m still mad at him, but I know in the long run we’ll end up together,” she says. “Not that I owe you any explanation.”

  “So what can I help you with? It must be ridiculously early
there, so I’m guessing this is important.” I’m having a bad day already, and if her attitude keeps up, this may not end well.

  “I got a message from Max.”

  I bring my hand to my chest as I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. He’s back?”

  “No, he’s not back. We have a special Facebook account he uses to send me messages when he’s under. He hasn’t used it in months, since long before we started our break.”

  “That’s actually a clever idea. So what did he say?”

  “The profile is for a stripper named Candy Biggins.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course it is. That’s so Max. That perv.” I pick up a note pad on the night stand and scribble the name down.

  “I know, right? He normally just makes some crass comment about her rack or something. When he comments, I know that he’s okay. Last night, he said, ‘Great show, but it isn’t the same without Lily. She’s hot stuff, buttercup.’ Buttercup is our key word for trouble. Something serious is going on. He wouldn’t have reached out otherwise. I’m worried.”

  The fear in her voice is evident, and it turns my mouth dry as dust. I look around the suite for a bottle of water. “Sabrina, how much do you know ab0ut this case?”

  “Nothing. We hadn’t really spoken in weeks. What do you know?”

  “What he posted, was it out of character? What do you think he was trying to tell you?” I ask, ignoring her question.

  “I don’t know if he’s trying to warn you about something or if it’s an SOS. It doesn’t make sense. Tell me what you know,” she says in a no-nonsense tone. I’m starting to think this call is less about sharing information and more of an interrogation.

  I find two unopened bottles next to Em’s bed. I gulp down half of a bottle, but it does nothing to improve the dust bowl in my mouth. “Did you call the FBI?”

  “No, they don’t know about our secret way of communicating. They’d have his hide if they did.” She clucks her tongue. “I’m sick of this being a one-sided conversation. Are you going to tell me what you know or not?” She sounds pissed, but I don’t really care.