Zenith Rising (Zenith Trilogy, #2)
Page 10
“I don’t think admitting the obvious talent you possess is anything but that. I have no ulterior motives and I’m not pushing anything,” she said, looking at his profile. He refused to look at her. Quietly, she said, “You kissed me, Spencer.”
He laughed soundlessly. “I kiss a lot of girls, Doc. Women too. Even doctors. Don’t read too much into it, I didn’t and I don’t.”
“I see,” she said, stiffening. God, he could be cutting. He could be so awful. “How’d you know that night I wouldn’t fire you? You were being such a jerk.”
“I’m called that a lot too. You’re too decent to fire me. Especially, when you know I need the money.”
“So, you what? Acted like that because you knew I’d let you?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. Why, Doc? Wanna come over to my house? I can be clear and upfront with you, now that you’re single.”
Erica sighed. He was doing that to push her away. Anytime she got too close, or he revealed too much about himself, he did that. He insulted her and acted ruder, knowing she wouldn’t like it, and sure as shit wouldn’t fall for him like Tamira, or most any other woman with red blood in her veins.
“I like you, Spencer. I really do. But nothing could make me want to get involved with you.”
“I never said anything about getting involved.”
“You see, the thing with me is, you would have to be very involved. That’s why it could never happen.”
“I know it could never happen. Doesn’t take a genius like you to see that.”
“That’s not why.”
“I know why.”
He shifted and moved away. Erica looked back towards the city below. She felt the cool breeze over her suddenly warm cheeks. She was annoyed, frustrated, and hurt that Roy would cheat on her so blatantly. She wanted more, so much more from her personal life. But as always, she didn’t really know how to make it happen. She was as successful as any woman could be, except when it came to her own life.
“Spence, you out here?”
They both turned towards the French doors leading to the balcony at the sound of Rob’s voice.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
Rob stepped closer. His jacket was off. When he was all dressed up, most of his tattoos did not show, and Erica thought he was a startlingly sexy man. Except for his height; in heels, Erica was a good three inches taller than he.
“Hey Dr. Heathersby.”
“Hello Rob. And for God’s sake, couldn’t either of you try calling me by my name? It’s not a cardinal sin, you know.”
Rob stepped back, surprised at her tone. “Okay, Erica. Everything all right out here?” He looked from Erica to Spencer and back again. They both shrugged, mumbling it was fine.
“You ready to go?” Rob asked Spencer.
“Desperately.” Spencer started to follow Rob, but stopped and turned back to Erica. “You didn’t, by any chance, come here with Dr. Feel Good, did you?”
“Of course, I did. We even have an upstairs suite booked for the night. I guess his coat room bimbo will be enjoying that.”
Spencer sighed. “Just as I thought. Want a ride home?”
“I can get one with Nick and Joelle. Call a cab. Or a limo.”
“Right. Of course, you can.”
Erica watched him turn without an argument, and quickly hurried after him. “But I’ll come with you. If you’ll wait for me.”
“Wait for what?”
Erica straightened her shoulders, holding her head up. “For me to kick Dr. Feel Good’s smug ass first.”
Spencer finally smiled at her. “I guess I could wait for that.”
****
Spencer’s car surprised Erica. A few years older, it was a two-door Acura, cherry red, and he kept it nearly immaculate. There was nothing inside it, but rich, black leather and an air freshener. Whatever Spencer once was as Spike, however messy, sloppy, or even gross, he was meticulously clean and clutter-free as Spencer.
By the time she got to the parking garage, Spencer was leaning against his car, waiting. His suit jacket was off and he had a leather jacket on. He looked gorgeous waiting there and watching for her. He straightened even taller when he saw her before sliding into the driver’s seat, as she silently took the passenger side. She arranged her long, narrow dress to cover her legs, pulling it free of her behind to get more comfortable.
“Where’s Rob?”
“He decided to go downtown.”
“Because I was coming?”
“Because it’s Rob and he still goes out a lot. He liked the drummer tonight. I guess he’s seeing if there’s anything there.”
“You mean for a new Zenith?”
Spencer shrugged and started the car. He backed out tight and fast, squealing his tires. Then he glanced at her with a smile. “Could be what he has in mind. I didn’t ask.”
“Why don’t you ask? Why don’t you care? Why don’t you join him?”
“Because I’m giving you a ride home.”
“Bullshit. You care about that band. Why do you pretend you don’t? Why don’t you want to be involved?”
“Because we couldn’t make it work in the four years we tried. Why would it work now? I’m not looking for a repeat performance of that, much less, the last few years.”
Erica sealed her lips tightly shut. He didn’t know how much his statement revealed. Spencer always seemed so sure nothing he tried would work out. If he remained cynical, believing nothing good could happen, then he couldn’t be disappointed. She gathered this was probably his entire attitude towards life: do nothing and you can’t fail.
He looked at her finally. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You’re afraid to be good at it, aren’t you? You’re afraid to fulfill your obvious potential and have a deep-seated fear that someone, somewhere, will reject you, or won’t take you seriously. So instead of trying harder, you pretend you don’t care. You pretended to go along with Rob, and promoted the band out of your friendship with him, but that’s not all true. You know you’re good at music. But you don’t pursue it seriously, or try and make it happen, because you fear disappointment and failure.”
“No, I prefer not to fail anymore.”
“After what I heard tonight? You won’t fail. You shouldn’t be wasting your time and talent, working for me at jobs I can hire anyone with a high school diploma to do.”
He shifted his car and began driving much too fast over the hilly side streets of Seattle. His agitation at hearing her comment was making his gear shifting rough. “That’s funny because I’m not even qualified to do that.”
Erica paused. Oh. Shit. He really didn’t have his high school diploma? She never checked.
And here she was: in possession of a doctorate, with honors and a four-point-oh average in every class she ever took. No wonder he often looked at her as if she were an aberration. To him, she probably was.
“You know what I meant. You have a raw, natural talent that elevates you, and something that you should be honing right now as a profession. Not just earning a paycheck doing mindless work that…”
“Is beneath me? That’s the thing, Doc; it’s not beneath me.”
“It is too. You’re more than that. So much more.”
He let out a long breath and shifted again before flicking the radio on. “Why don’t you just shut up for awhile? Please. I don’t want to listen to that. Your views on my unlimited potential, and how happy the world could be. My world isn’t part of yours. In ways you can’t even begin to understand.”
She snapped her mouth shut, feeling stunned. God, he could be mean. Moody. Insulting. And scared. He seemed to be scared shitless of his own talent and abilities. He tried to pretend it didn’t matter, but if that were the actual case, he wouldn’t keep getting so nasty with her every time she mentioned it. He’d just blow her off. Instead, she knew it struck a deep, dark chord with him.
“I’m not going to shut up because you told me to.”
He let out an exa
ggerated sigh. “No, I suppose that would be too much to ask; for you to just let me be. Ever think someone else might be right instead of you?”
“If you hate me so much, why don’t you quit? You seem hell-bent on doing just that. So keep insulting me. See how nice I am then. You seem anxious to screw up everything in your life, even a job you don’t really want.”
“You know what I hate most? You thinking that you know anything about me. You thinking that because I’m working for you, or playing a stupid piano, or screwing your assistant, you know something about what motivates me. But you don’t. You don’t know shit about me, or what I want in life.”
“Neither do you. And that’s your problem. You don’t know either. And that’s what so frustrates you. It also makes you nasty as hell with someone who does. Like me. You know what I know? I know you believe you don’t want anything more out of life. That’s what I see. You believe that floating through life with no direction is enough for you, when I see that it’s not. I saw you up there tonight. You can’t disguise that talent of yours, or how differently you behave when you’re actually doing it.”
“Yeah, and how did I seem to you?”
“Confident. Controlled. You obviously cared how the performance went. You also managed to excel at it and do it without any mistakes. Whatever you do, I’ve learned you don’t do it in a half-assed attempt.”
“As opposed to how I normally behave?”
“Yes. As opposed to how little you pretend to care about everything else.”
He was silent. Waiting. “Are you done now? Have you had your say? Enough trying to fix me for tonight? What is it with you? Even your handyman has to fulfill his potential? You can’t ever mind your own business, can you, Doc?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Not another word, Spencer.”
“Fine.”
They were silent until he came to her condo building. He pulled in after she swiped her card to open the gate. He parked his car and turned it off.
“Don’t think for a second after that last comment you’re coming up.”
“Coming up? What would I come up for?”
“Nothing. That’s exactly it.”
“Take the elevator,” he said finally, after they stared at each other under the bright lights of the parking garage.
“Why would you tell me that?”
“Because you take the stairs a lot. It’s dark in the stairway, and better to be safe.”
“How would you know I take the stairs?”
He didn’t answer. Why did he notice things like that about her?
“You don’t trust anybody, do you?”
“No. I don’t. Nothing at all. Nobody at all. And that’s why I’m walking you to the elevator. No other reason.”
She got out of the car and he walked with her to the elevator. She swallowed her objection. Whatever hang-ups he had, he seemed to take her safety rather seriously. That was so at odds with everything else about him and everything he claimed to be.
As they waited for elevator, Spencer finally asked, “What did you say to Dr. Roy?”
She stared at the unopened elevator door rather than at him. She was still furious at his remarks. “I told him to go fuck himself and never call me again.”
“You did?” His tone sounded pleased at her reply.
“Of course, I did. What else would I do?”
“I didn’t know what you would do. But that’s what I would have done.”
The elevator came and Erica stepped in. “Well, that’s great. We both tell people to screw off with the same vehemence. Good night, Spencer.”
****
Spencer watched Erica leave. He couldn’t resist watching her. His eyes were riveted on her all evening. She was stunning and so beautiful, he could hardly look at her and think a coherent thought. She was ethereal. Her white-blond hair was swept up into a French twist, leaving her long, slender, alabaster throat exposed. Soft tendrils framed her face, no matter how often she tried to push them back. Her dress complimented her breasts, and left her collarbone and pale shoulders sensually exposed. Gold earrings swung from her ears every time she moved, talked, or tilted her head. It only emphasized how animated Erica Heathersby became whenever she spoke, laughed, danced, or even breathed. She was always alive, smiling, and shining.
Then Spencer had to watch her stupid boyfriend paw all over her. He had a bird’s eye view of her interacting in her sensuous manner with Dr. Roy, and it hit him like a wrecking ball in his chest. It made him play harder and longer, while hoping to obliterate her, and forget her proximity to him in his mind.
He couldn’t though. Even when he thought it was she in the coat room. Even when she continually pried into his life, and kept asking about him, even then, he couldn’t ignore his attraction to her. He desired her and even liked her. Damn it! She was the most irresistible, likeable person he’d ever met or been around. She didn’t have to notice him, or even like him, but she never failed to be nice to him. Damn it! What good was that for him?
Chapter Nine
Erica ignored Spencer over the next few days. She was tired of him, his attitude towards her, and his assumptions about her. She ignored four calls from Roy, who was trying to apologize. As if she’d forgive that! And especially for someone she wasn’t even in love with. The problem was: she usually wasn’t in love with the guys she dated. Perhaps that was why the last few had wandering eyes that eventually wandered away from her.
“Dr. Heathersby?”
Erica was doing paperwork at her desk and looked up at the sound of Tamira’s voice.
“Yes?”
“I finished the insurance claims we talked about. Do you think I could take off an hour early today? I’ve got a date.”
With Spencer? The question hung in the air between them, fully initiated by Tamira’s eye lock. Erica sighed. She was much too tired and annoyed by these games, and too old to compete with a twenty-year-old girl. She was also too old to have a boyfriend who would screw someone else in the coat room of a major hotel.
God help her, she felt so old, and so exhausted with dating, as well as all the little games women played.
She had grown weary of men who threw so many different signals, she needed an air traffic controller to try and make sense of them. She almost told Tamira to “have at him.” Take Spencer. Good luck with that emotional blunder. That emotional train wreck, who trusted no one and had no faith in anything. He hated his fate. He hated his life. And he hated people who had their lives more or less together. Yeah, go enjoy that, Tamira.
Instead, Erica said, “Sure. Have fun.”
“Well, I just didn’t want my personal life interfering here where I work.”
Erica gave her a fake smile. “No, Tamira. Everything is fine.”
“Good. Great. Did you know Spencer and I are thinking of moving in together?”
Erica quit writing and set her pen down as she stared across her desk at the short stature of Tamira. Tamira was outright lying. Obviously. Erica knew that. She had been with Spencer enough lately, at his home even, and knew for a fact Tamira wasn’t usually anywhere near him. There was no way Spencer would live with Tamira, or vice versa. But the girl was… what? Trying to warn her to stay away? Or could she seriously be that delusional? It could be either, as Erica well knew.
“No, I hadn’t heard. Does he know?” Erica asked gently.
“Well, sure. It was his idea.”
No. No, it wasn’t. Erica saw a burgeoning problem there, but had no idea what to do with it. Or with Tamira. Pain shot through her head and she pressed her hands to her temples. Tamira had been her patient for close to three years now. After only a few visits, Erica guessed someone was hurting Tamira. Someone close to her. Eventually, Tamira got pregnant. That was last year. She was pregnant with her father’s baby. Needless to say, Erica aborted the fetus, and sent Tamira to counseling. She begged Tamira to press charges, move out, and get help. But Tamira didn’t. Then Tamira reappeared nine months
later, freshly trained in medical billing, and all with the end goal of working for Erica in her office.
Erica didn’t know that was Tamira’s plan and felt like she’d been pushed into a corner. She was flabbergasted when Tamira showed up there, ready to work, as if Erica had already offered her a job. Still, she knew Tamira’s fragile, awful history, and felt nothing but total compassion for the screwed-up, lost girl. So she allowed her to work here.
And soon regretted it as the months went by.
Then Spencer entered the picture. Erica wanted to warn him that Tamira was emotionally disturbed. She was not ready for casual sex in any way, shape or form. Tamira strangely attached herself to the fantasy relationship she made up in her mind with Spencer.
Tamira appeared young, fun, and excited about her life and starting her job. She appeared normal, or as normal as any other twenty-year-old. Only Erica knew that she wasn’t. She was definitely not well, but Erica wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Especially Tamira’s dates.
“Tamira, are you still seeing Dr. Kellerston?” She was the counselor that helped Tamira with her rape and pregnancy.
“No. I’m feeling much better now. ‘Bye Dr. Heathersby.”
Better? Or crazier? Erica sighed, and pushed her glasses higher on her nose in frustration. Stupid job. Stupid conscience that insisted she hire Tamira. She was so stupid for caring at all about her. She needed more objectivity with her patients. And… with Spencer.
Even now, as Spencer’s words filtered through her head, she realized he might be right. She might have been trying to fix him. But it was hard to resist pointing out the obvious to him. It didn’t seem unreasonable to suggest he seek a job in the business at which he so excelled. It seemed like a logical suggestion. But apparently, to Spencer, she was butting in and expecting too much.
Erica gave up trying to work, and twenty minutes later, locked her office and headed for the stairway. She hoped any extra exercise might take off some of her unwanted inches. Halfway down the stairwell, she heard the squeaking of a sneaker behind her. She moved towards the side of the stairway, to let the person jogging down the stairs pass by her. Glancing over her shoulder, she missed a stair in unexpected shock.