by Chanta Rand
Alexa stood up in the tub, sloshing water everywhere. God, please don’t let her be saying what I think she’s saying. “What do you mean he’s gone, Greta? Gone where?”
“I came in …and I found him…in his favorite chair.” Her sobs became louder. “He passed away in his sleep.”
She felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach. All the wind had been knocked from her. She struggled to speak, to ask a question, to utter even one syllable. But nothing would come out except short gasps of air. She had just seen her Pawpaw yesterday. He couldn’t be dead. It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem real. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe if she waited long enough, she would wake up.
“Alexa, are you there? Alexa?”
She heard Greta’s voice calling her in the distance. A tidal wave of agonizing pain slowly built inside her and washed over her, completely consuming her in its wake. She heard her own loud sobs as she realized what was happening. This was not a dream. Her grandfather was dead. He would no longer be there to comfort her when something went wrong. He would not be around to give her advice. They’d shared so much together; drawing on each other’s strength and healing one another through the devastating losses they’d suffered. The man had shown her unconditional love. He’d nursed her through her adolescent problems, let her cry on his shoulder, made her laugh with his silly jokes, and helped shape her into the woman she was today. Now he was gone. And for the first time in her life, she was all alone.
How long she stood there, knee deep in water, she didn’t know. Hours later, all she remembered was crying uncontrollably and watching her hot tears mingle with her bath water until it finally grew cold.
* * *
Tristan stared at his cell phone, willing it to ring. His body was draped lazily over the California King sized bed in his bedroom. Today, the spacious room seemed so cold and lonely. But six months ago, when he’d bought his condo, it was the perfect bachelor pad. He’d hired a decorator named Coco, who came with a strong recommendation from the team owner’s wife. Coco said he was impressed with the clean lines of the rooms. Tristan didn’t know what the hell that meant, but for $500 an hour, he left it up to Coco to create a badass retreat for him. And he hadn’t been disappointed. The end result was a colorful mix of ethnic-inspired furnishings, including African artwork, Middle Eastern fabrics, Native American rugs, Italian leather, and Japanese bonsai plants and bamboo trees. Coco called it eclectic. Tristan called it expensive. But he couldn’t deny Coco knew his stuff.
Tristan wondered what Alexa would think of his condo. For the past hour, he’d lain motionless, waiting on her call. It had been two weeks since he’d last seen or spoken to her. Two weeks since he’d sent the flowers. Two weeks since he’d heard her playful laugh. He didn’t know why she wasn’t returning his calls. Alexa was a mystery to him. He hated mysteries. He liked to know everything about people up front. Like when he played a game. He studied tapes of his opponents. He watched their style. He analyzed their strengths and weaknesses. He knew nothing about Alexa, except what she wanted him to know. And right now, all he knew was that she was back to ignoring him again.
He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know why he cared whether she called or not. She should have been just another pretty face, but she had a hold on him. She was making him think things he’d never thought of before, like having a long-distance relationship, being monogamous, and settling down. He should be concerned with other things, like his career. Practice would start in a few weeks. This was his last year before becoming a free agent and he had to make it count. He wasn’t getting any younger. He would have to compete with rookies that were five, seven, even ten years younger, looking to embarrass him on the field. He was sure the Predators would offer him another contract, but he never knew what the big wigs up in the administrative offices were thinking. He had to bring his “A” game just in case.
His cell phone rang and he immediately rolled over and grabbed it, checking the caller ID. For one instant, his heart slammed in his chest, hoping to see Alexa’s number on the display. In the next, it plummeted back down to its resting place. It was Monique calling. He stared at the neon digits blinking rapidly at him. It would be so easy just to answer it and give her what she wanted. His body was craving for release. It had been two months – a record for him. A man had needs, after all. Alexa had left him hot and hard, standing in the doorway of her apartment. But right now, Alexa wanted nothing to do with him. Monique, on the other hand, was willing and waiting. He could have her, and she would expect nothing in return from him. It would be so easy.
He continued to stare at Monique’s number as the loud ringing temptingly called out to him. Nah, he couldn’t answer it. Monique was a party girl. She allowed herself to be used and then discarded like an old dishtowel. He didn’t want a woman like that. He didn’t care how easy she was. He wanted Alexa. God help him, he didn’t know why. His conscious nagged at him. Maybe you want her because you can’t have her. Yeah, maybe that was it.
His cell phone finally exhausted itself and stopped ringing. Monique had given up, for now. She was like him in a way. She didn’t like taking “no” for an answer.
On impulse, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “I need to speak with Dr. Kennedy, please.”
“She’s not available right now,” the voice on the other end explained.
“I’ve been trying to reach her all week. Do you know when she will be available?”
“Is this a medical emergency, sir?”
Yes! “No. I just need to speak with her.”
“I’m sorry sir, but she’ll be out next week as well. Is there someone else who can help you?”
“No,” Tristan finally relented. Then, he had an idea. “Uh, yes, there is. Is Viola Turner available?”
“One moment. I’ll check.”
The next thing he heard was boring elevator music indicating that he’d been placed on hold. He paced the room, wondering what he’d say if he got Viola on the line. He waited anxiously. How long had it been? Five minutes? Ten? Fifteen? Finally, he looked at the timer on his phone. Only one minute and thirteen seconds. Calm down!
The music stopped and a familiar voice picked up. “This is Viola Turner.”
“Hello, Viola!” he bum-rushed her before he could lose his nerve. “This is Tristan Rexford. I’m calling to make sure you received my donation.”
“Tristan, it’s good to hear from you. And yes, we did receive it. Thank you so much. We have big plans for the money. Didn’t you get the thank you note from our Board of Directors?”
He’d been so preoccupied that he hadn’t bothered to check his mail all week. All he’d done was sulk, watch old movies, and eat Cheetos every day. So he answered, taking a cue straight out of his high-school Drama course. “I’ve been traveling non-stop, so I haven’t been at home to receive anything. But the moment I get back, I’ll check.”
“No problem,” Viola assured him. “Anyway, I should have called you personally and thanked you for your generosity. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk with you before you left Dallas. I think there’s a great opportunity for Mercy to work with the NFL. I don’t know if you’re interested, but…”
“Yes, I am,” he cut her off. “I want to do whatever I can for the hospital. There are so many people in need. In fact, I think you should contact our Media Relations Specialist, Jannette Booth. She can help you with coordinating donations from our team. Tell her I referred you.”
“Thank you,” Viola sounded impressed. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
How can I ask about Alexa without asking about her? “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, Viola. To hell with it – just ask! “Please say hello to Dr. Kennedy for me. I tried to reach her to thank her for the tour, but I guess we’ll have to connect some other time.”
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know.”
“Know what?” All kinds of things ran through his
mind. Did Alexa quit? Did she transfer to another hospital? Did she get married?
“She’s on bereavement leave,” Viola said. “Her grandfather died two weeks ago.”
Tristan sat down on his massive bed. He tried to imagine what Alexa must be going through. First her parents. Now her grandfather. It didn’t seem fair. She had fought to save so many lives while everyone she loved kept dying. Was that why she hadn’t called him? Alexa was so stubborn it was hard to tell. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, there’s nothing you can do. Your donation has helped tremendously.”
He took a deep breath. He didn’t know what kind of relationship Viola had with Alexa, and he didn’t want to put her business out there, but he wanted the woman to know that his concern had nothing to do with Mercy. “No, I mean on a personal level. Is there anything I can do for Alexa?”
“I didn’t miss the sparks between you two,” Viola told him.
“I want there to be more than just sparks,” Tristan admitted.
“Don’t you think that’s something you should be telling her, not me?”
“Alexa won’t let anyone get close to her, especially me.”
“She has a good reason, Tristan. She’s been hurt before.”
“If I could just talk to her and let her know I’m here for her.”
He heard Viola pause for a moment. “There’s a benefit next Friday night. It’s held each year to recognize the accomplishments of members in the medical community. I’m being honored for my work with Mercy. Alexa will be there. You’ll have a chance to see her then.”
He felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll be there.”
“Remember, Tristan, she’s very fragile. She’s had enough shocks. A surprise visit from you might put her over the edge.”
“I‘ll proceed with caution,” he promised. Truth be told, he would have promised world peace just for a chance to see her again.
Viola sighed. “I hope I’m doing the right thing. She’s not only my colleague but my friend as well. I like you Tristan, and I hope you’re not just another guy trying to get in her panties.”
He appreciated her candor and he hoped she could appreciate his as well. “Viola, Alexa is special to me. I would never hurt her.”
“Okay then. See you next Friday. It’s black tie.”
Tristan hung up. He had a pre-season party to attend that Friday but he would have to miss it. Fuck it. The League would understand. He had to see Alexa. He had been thinking about her non-stop since the day he met her. He wasn’t used to being ignored. He wasn’t used to being denied. Ever since he could remember, he’d gotten anything he’d wanted. As a star football player, everyone catered to him. Teachers loved him, coaches respected him, men envied him, and women worshipped him. But Alexa was different. She looked past the celebrity to the man he really was. Right now, more than ever, he needed that in his life. He couldn’t even try to delude himself. He wanted Alexa – and he wanted her to want him just as much.
His phone rang again. He glanced at the caller id. Monique – again! Damn! There was no way he was answering her call. She would just have to get used to being ignored. He grimaced. He finally understood how she felt.
* * *
Alexa stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her long black evening dress was a throwback to the Roaring Twenties, an era when glamour and gaiety were all the rage. Only she didn’t feel so glamorous and she didn’t feel happy at all. It would take more than dramatic makeup and a new up-do to heal her pain. She missed her grandfather terribly. If she could, she would cry right here, in the bathroom of the St. Regis Ballroom. But if she did, she’d have one hell of a repair job to do. She knew that by the time she was done bawling her eyes out, she’d have a runny nose and raccoon eyes from her smeared mascara. Besides, she didn’t want to embarrass Viola. Tonight was her night. She was being given an award. After the ceremony, the two of them would have a quiet dinner together. And then Alexa could go home and do the same thing she’d been doing every night for two weeks: curl up on the sofa in her pajamas. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she sorted through old pictures. Sometimes, she just sat remembering.
During the day, she’d been keeping company with Greta. The two of them had cleaned out Pawpaw’s house. Going through all of his things had made her feel a lot better. As she sorted through his many belongings, happy memories bubbled to the surface of her depression. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find that her grandfather had kept scraps of her many accomplishments, including all of her report cards from high school, her certificate of achievement for passing swimming class, and a few assorted drawings from when she thought she wanted to be an artist. Thank goodness, she hadn’t been any good at that, or she might have missed her true calling as a doctor. It only took three days to box up his things and put them in the attic. She was proud that she hadn’t had a nervous breakdown, even when she came across a box of family pictures of her parents and her grandmother. Seeing their images somehow comforted her. At least now they could all be together. She still hadn’t decided what to do about the house. She was debating on whether to sell it or live in it by herself. It made her feel closer to the family just being inside it. She’d only had three weeks to make a lot of major decisions, and the only thing she was certain of was that she was ready to go back to work. She needed the distractions of her patients. Once she was back in control at work, she figured everything else would fall into place.
She made her way back to the spacious ballroom where the awards ceremony was being held. Several staff members from Mercy greeted her and offered their condolences for her loss. She thanked them, smiled politely, and tried not to get misty-eyed again.
Viola approached in an emerald green, sequined cocktail dress. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was pinned up. “Excuse us,” she said, interrupting the well-wishers. “The ceremony is about to start now and we’ve got to find our seats.” The group immediately dispersed, and Viola gently steered Alexa toward the table reserved especially for them.
“Thank you,” Alexa said. “I was beginning to feel like a trapped rabbit at the race track.”
“No problem. I told you I’d look out for you tonight.”
The two approached their table, reserved for a large party of eight. It was beautifully decorated in red and white. Alexa knew all of the others seated. She said her hellos and took her seat, sandwiched between Viola and Mrs. Reese, who was the wife of the Chief of Surgery. Mrs. Reese was an older lady with gray hair that Alexa could see was once platinum blonde. The woman had always been kind to her, and Alexa didn’t mind being seated next to her.
“Alexa,” she said, “It’s so good to see you again. How are things in the burn unit?”
“Very well, thank you.” She didn’t bother to add that she hadn’t been there in three weeks and Doctors Johnston and Sampson had been filling in, adding her caseload to theirs. Instead, she changed the subject. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Reese?”
The old woman patted her hand. “I’m getting over a cold, but other than that, I’m okay.”
“Well, I could hardly tell. You look radiant tonight, as usual.”
“I can say the same for you. And apparently, I’m not the only one who feels that way.” Alexa gave her a look of amusement. “Don’t look now dear, but you seem to have an admirer,” she whispered.
Alexa followed the direction of Mrs. Reese’s eyes to a table in the center of the room. In one of the chairs sat the man she least expected to be here tonight. Tristan! Her heart beat double-time as his eyes locked with hers. He was handsomely dressed in a white tuxedo jacket and matching tie. He looked magnificent. There was no other word to describe him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she fought to keep her emotions under control. He sat, staring at her, those dark eyes penetrating her soul, as usual. Bittersweet memories of the kiss they shared flooded her consciousness. She got goose bumps just thinking
about the taste of his lips against hers. For weeks, she’d willed herself not to think about him. She’d tried to erase him from her mind. She couldn’t handle her unpredictable response to him. Now, seeing him again after all these weeks made her weak with longing for him. She kept her eyes locked with his, drinking his image like it was fine wine. He continued to stare at her, as if reading her thoughts. Did he feel the same intense desire?
Her view was impeded by a waiter, who’d arrived to fill the crystal flutes on their table with champagne. Alexa eagerly reached for hers and took a long sip, instantly emptying half of the glass. She sat it back on the table, and the waiter must have noticed, because he circled back around to her and quickly refilled her glass, topping it off. She reached for it again.
Viola gave her a nudge under the table. “Is everything okay?”
“What is he doing here?” Alexa asked.
“Who?” Viola asked. Alexa gave a quick nod in the direction of Tristan’s table. “Oh, you mean Tristan? All the donors get invitations to our events, Alexa. He was probably on the master list that Marketing keeps.”
The chatter from the nearby tables mingled with the soft music playing through the PA system, so Alexa knew she would not be overheard. “You’re a bad liar, Viola.”
Viola gave her a bright smile and shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
Alexa glared at her, and then picked up her glass again. This time, she completely drained it. She turned her attention back to Tristan’s table. He was still looking at her. He held up his own flute and pointed it toward her, as if performing a toast. She quickly turned away. One thing was certain. She was going to need something stronger than champagne to deal with Tristan Rexford tonight.
* * *
Tristan watched Alexa from afar. He hadn’t meant to stare so long, but after weeks of having no contact with her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. And after a while, he didn’t even bother to try. Despite the fact that she had ignored his calls, his feelings for her had not changed. He wanted her, and he wanted her to know it.