The Color of Heaven Series [03] The Color of Hope

by Julianne MacLean

  When I reached the ground floor, however, and spotted him waiting in the entrance hall by the mail boxes, I was relieved to discover that although he had dark hair and was good looking, he bore no other resemblance to Diana’s other half.

  “You must be Nadia.” He held out his hand to shake mine.

  “And you’re Richard.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, “but my friends call me Rick.”

  I almost chuckled. “Do you mind if I call you Richard?”

  “Whatever,” he replied after a brief hesitation. “My car’s parked just outside. You ready to go?”

  I nodded and followed him out of the building to a shiny silver Mercedes at the curb.

  I didn’t live in the greatest neighborhood, so this swanky car of his stood out like white on black.

  I paused a moment to get my bearings. Whose life was this, anyway? I wondered. Surely it wasn’t mine, because I couldn’t possibly be wearing a six-hundred-dollar dress, a four-hundred-dollar pair of shoes, and a purse that was probably double the price of everything combined.

  Richard unlocked the passenger side door with the press of a button on his key ring, and the loud beep startled me out of my dithering. He opened the door and waved me closer, then held it open while I got inside. A few seconds later he was circling around to the driver’s side.

  Don’t get clingy, I said to myself. We’re just having dinner.

  He started the engine and pulled onto the street, then gave me a curious look. “You’re not quite what I was expecting.”

  “No?” I replied. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Not sure yet.” He stopped at the corner and turned left. “We’re only just getting started.”

  I wasn’t thrilled with his non-committal answer, but I was determined to remain aloof.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  RICHARD TOOK ME to an expensive restaurant, where we engaged in the sort of casual conversation most couples endure on a first date.

  I did my best to learn all I could about him. Though he clearly made truckloads of money, I didn’t take him for one of those Old World, Old Money snobs. He told me that his parents owned a hardware store in Iowa, but he hated all things rural, and preferred a more cosmopolitan lifestyle, which was why he’d moved to LA. He talked about his work, and had no qualms about describing his wild college days when he was a member of a fraternity, partied every night of the week, and barely made it to graduation.

  I laughed at some of the stories he told about bizarre drinking games and freshman girls puking out windows. Part of me felt as if I should feel more at home with someone like him, but that wasn’t the case. To the contrary, I was disappointed in myself for laughing and trying so hard to act as if we shared a connection.

  It reminded me of who I was on the inside – a woman desperate to be accepted, and to be invited into someone else’s world. Someone else’s life.

  I tried to tell myself I had my own world now – a twin sister who cared about me – and I didn’t need this man to validate my self-worth. Nor did I have to fawn over every word he said, and sound so bloody impressed, as if he and I were the same.

  We weren’t. First of all, I never went to college, so I didn’t get the whole fraternity thing.

  Second, I had horrendous memories of a man in my life who drank too much, and for that reason, I was intensely aware of how many gin and tonics Richard tossed back during dinner.

  Later, when we walked out, Richard reached into the breast pocket of his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?” he asked, holding it out to me.

  “No thanks.”

  “Bob said you smoked.”

  How did Bob even know that about me? I wondered. I’d quit cold turkey not long after I met Diana, and that was before he started at the firm.

  “Not anymore,” I said.

  “Ah, come on.” He pushed the pack at me. “Just one. You know you want to.”

  My heart began to race, because yes, I did want to. I could smell the fresh fragrance of the tobacco, still in the package, right there in front of my nose.

  “No thanks,” I said, though I was teetering on a cliff edge.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Richard lit up as we walked back to his car. Thankfully it wasn’t long before my urge to do the same retreated, and I was proud of myself for resisting the temptation.

  “Where do you want to go now?” Richard asked. “I know a great club not far from here.”

  “I should probably get home,” I replied. “I have to work in the morning.”

  “But it’s Thursday,” he argued. “Practically Friday. Come on, just one drink. I talked too much about myself at dinner, and I want to know more about you. You’re intriguing.”

  Intriguing. No one had ever called me that before.

  “All right,” I said, wanting to give him one more chance before I threw in the towel. “Just one drink. But then I really need to get home.”

  He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor. I promise I’ll have you home by midnight.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  STROBE LIGHTS IN the club flashed through a white haze from a smoke machine. The music was so loud, the floor vibrated under my feet. I could feel the heavy rumble of the beat in my chest.

  Richard slid closer to me on the leather upholstery. He had passed a fifty-dollar bill to a bouncer when we first entered the club, and the bouncer showed us to a private circular booth on the second level with a view of the dance floor below.

  Despite my protestations, Richard ordered me a second Cosmo as soon as I finished the first. That was when I decided it was time to text Diana.

  I’m at that club called Revolution. He’s a bit of an ass, holding me captive. I don’t feel like dancing, but he just ordered me another Cosmo.

  I pressed send, and felt my phone vibrate a few seconds later while Richard paid the waiter for our second round. I read her reply:

  Can you tell him you have to work in the morning?

  I quickly texted her back:

  I already did, but he’s pushy.

  Keep me posted, she wrote.

  I slipped my phone into my purse and took a sip of my drink. Because the music was booming, it was impossible to carry on a conversation without shouting.

  Not that it mattered. Richard hadn’t asked me a single personal question since we arrived. For him, it was bottoms up, over and over, while he watched the crowd on the dance floor and bobbed his head like a rooster in time with the music.

  Suddenly, I remembered my mother’s advice about marrying a man with money, but I couldn’t imagine spending my life with this turkey head. He could be as rich as the Pope, but he reminded me too much of my father.

  “Let’s dance,” he said in my ear, brushing the tip of his nose through my hair.

  “I’m not really up for it,” I replied.

  “Come on. Bob said you were a party girl.”

  I swung my irritated gaze to meet Richard’s. “Did he?”

  Why would Bob think that? He barely knew me.

  Was it because of the way I dressed? Was that what Richard meant when he said I wasn’t what he’d expected?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I have to go.” There was no way I was getting into a car with this guy. I’d seen how much he had to drink. So I grabbed my purse and slid out of the booth. “You don’t have to get up. I’ll just grab a cab. Thanks for dinner. It was fun.”

  Rising too quickly to my feet, I wobbled as I tugged the hem of my dress down to cover my knees. It had been awhile since I’d had any hard liquor, and I didn’t enjoy the tipsy feeling.

  I pushed through the tight crowd, searching for a path to the door. When at last I stumbled outside onto the sidewalk, I gulped in a breath of fresh air. Thank God. I was so happy to be out of there.

  The heavy rumble of the bass beat from inside the club pounded in my head, so I started walking toward the nearest intersection to flag down a cab.

  One drove b
y, but he didn’t stop for me, so I continued, spurred on by the sound of my heels clicking rapidly over the concrete.

  Then someone called my name. “Nadia!”

  I turned around, and wasn’t sure what to think when I recognized Richard jogging to catch up with me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, out of breath as he came to a halt. “I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. Let me drive you home.”

  It was the first gentlemanly thing he’d said to me all evening. But still...

  “No, really,” I replied. “It’s no problem. Look, there’s a cab now.” I raised my arm to flag it down, but it sped by.

  “I can drive you,” he insisted.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “What’s the problem?” he asked. “I paid for dinner, and it was a damn good meal.”

  “It was delicious,” I agreed, and felt my shoulders tense.

  “You should be grateful,” he said.

  “I am.”

  But I wasn’t. I wanted to kick him in the nuts and run.

  I should have done it when my instincts told me to, because the next thing I knew, I was being dragged by the wrist into an alleyway. Richard shoved me up against the side of the building. The back of my head cracked against the brick.

  “Let go of me!” I grunted, struggling fiercely, punching him in the face, thrashing about.

  He pinned me tightly to the wall. Then he began to tug my skirt up.

  I struck him in the face and bit him on the mouth when he tried to kiss me, but it only roused him further. Though I had witnessed my father beating my mother on countless occasions, I had never been beaten myself, so it came as a terrible shock when he slapped me across the face.

  Then suddenly he was pulled away from me, as if by a giant vacuum into the air. He flew across the alley and hit the opposite wall.

  I watched in stunned silence as another man punched him in the jaw, which caused him to fold like paper and crumple to the ground.

  My rescuer – dressed in faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and a baseball cap – straddled Richard, who was flat on his back, wiping blood from under his nose. Grabbing hold of Richard’s lapels in two fists, the man lifted him up and spoke in a vicious growl.

  “Didn’t you hear her say no?” He thrust Richard roughly to the ground. “If you ever talk to her again, I’ll smash you to pieces. You got that?”

  I was stunned and nearly hyperventilating when I realized it was Rick – Diana’s Rick – who had come to my rescue. He was holding me steady by my shoulders.

  “Are you all right?”

  Still in a daze, I managed to nod.

  “Let’s get you out of here.” He led me to his car, which was double parked in the street.

  “Just a minute.” I pulled free of his grasp and turned back kick Richard in the ribs. “You’re an ass!” I shouted. “I hope the rats eat you.”

  Then I ran to follow Rick, who was holding the car door open for me.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  “YOU SURE YOU’RE okay?” Rick asked as he shifted into first gear and took us away from the dark alley. His eyes raked over me with concern. “Did he hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied, but my whole body was trembling. “How did you find me?”

  “Diana sent me out to pick you up. She was worried.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “You texted the name of the club. It’s lucky I came along when I did. I saw him pull you into the alley.”

  I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, God, I can’t believe that just happened. What would have happened if you hadn’t come along?”

  He touched my shoulder. “I’m sure you would have kicked his ass.”

  I glanced up, and let out a sob that was half laughter.

  He checked the rear view mirror and shifted into a higher gear. I noticed his knuckles were bloodied.

  “Thank you,” I softly said, and tipped my head back on the seat.

  We drove for a few minutes in silence.

  “You should call Diana,” he suggested. “Tell her you’re okay, and I’m driving you home.”

  I wasn’t up to having a conversation about what just happened, because I was embarrassed by it. I was sure nothing like this would ever happen to Diana. She would know better. Or maybe guys just sensed that she was a woman who deserved to be treated with respect.

  “I’ll text her,” I replied, and reached into my purse for my phone.

  Hi Sis. Thanks for sending Rick. He picked me up and he’s driving me home now.

  She immediately texted me back.

  Oh good. Call me later.

  Okay.

  When we reached my apartment, Rick found a parking spot out front. My hands were still trembling, however, and I was slow to get a grip on the door handle.

  “Let me help you.” Rick got out and circled around to my side, opened my door, and supported me by the elbow as I set my feet on the ground.

  My knees felt like quivering blobs of jelly when I tried to stand.

  “I’ll come inside with you,” he said. “Where are your keys?”

  I handed him my purse and he found them for me.

  We walked up the stairs in silence. He unlocked my apartment door and flicked on the lights. I went straight to the sofa and collapsed onto it.

  While I toed off my heels, he glanced around at the faded paint and scuff marks on the walls, the stained carpet, and the small, dated kitchen that hadn’t had an upgrade since the eighties. “So this is where you live,” he said.

  I leaned back. “Yeah. My decorator’s on vacation. So is my cleaning lady.”

  He nodded with amusement. “Can I get you a glass of water? A cup of tea?”

  “Tea would be great.” I pointed. “There’s a kettle on the counter, and the cookie jar has teabags in it.”

  While he stood at the sink and filled the kettle, I tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy. I laid my hand on my cheek where I’d been slapped. It still burned.

  “I should have seen that coming,” I said, shaking my head at the stupidity of heading down the street alone. “My date was a jerk from the first minute. All he talked about were all the wild parties he used to go to in college.”

  After plugging in the kettle, Rick turned to face me. He leaned back and curled his hands around the edge of the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry that happened, Nadia. You didn’t deserve it. No woman deserves that.”

  “No, I suppose not. But I still don’t understand why Bob thought he could just pimp me out for a night.” I gazed at Rick imploringly. “Do I give off slut signals or something?”

  His eyebrows lifted, and he pushed away from the counter to move closer, into the living room. He sat down on the ottoman across from me and rested his elbows on his knees. “No, you don’t.”

  I looked down at the borrowed dress I wore. “Maybe not tonight, because Diana dressed me up, but I think the lawyers at work see me differently. They assume, because I just answer phones and wear cheap outfits, that I’m a bimbo.”

  “I’m sure they don’t think that.”

  “Yes, they do,” I argued. “It’s why Bob set me up like that. His friend was looking for a good time, and I was the first chick who came to mind. The one who wears spandex pants and low cut tops to work.”

  The kettle began to boil. Rick stood up to make the tea. “You should kick Bob’s ass tomorrow,” he said, “or at least tell someone what happened. Is there an office manager you can complain to, or a senior partner? You said Bob was new there. There’s usually a probationary period. Maybe they’ll get a clue and fire him.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, sitting forward. “He’s a college grad, and what am I? They’d be more likely to fire me and sweep it all under the carpet.”

  “Don’t let yourself be intimidated,” he said to me as he poured boiling water into two mismatched mugs. “Remember, your sister is a lawyer, too, and she works at one of the top firms in the country, and your father... Let’s just call
him your father, okay? He’s a senator. He could destroy them if they tried anything like that.”

  I smiled. “I’m starting to feel better already.”

  Rising from the sofa, I went to join Rick in the kitchen. He was dipping the teabags, and again, I noticed the blood on his knuckles.

  “You must have swung a pretty hard punch,” I said. “Can I get you anything for that?”

  “It’s fine.” He handed me my cup. “I’m tough.”

  “Well, that’s obvious,” I replied. “I certainly wouldn’t want to cross you in a dark alley.”

  We both leaned against opposite counters, facing each other.

  “Nadia...” Rick said, looking me in the eye. “You’re not a bimbo. You’re smart. You could be anything you want to be.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. At least, no one like Rick Fraser.

  “Thanks. I think it’s a confidence issue. I wasn’t exactly raised to believe I could conquer the world.”

  “Diana told me you had a rough childhood.”

  Before long, I was confessing numerous intimate details about the fights my parents used to have, and how we had no money left when we arrived in LA, and how my mother couldn’t get along with her parents, so we ended up living in her car again.

  “But you survived,” he said, “because that’s what you are. A survivor.”

  I finished off the last of my tea. “Yes,” I replied, “and somehow I’ll survive at work tomorrow when I tell Bob to go stick his head in the toilet and flush it.”

  Rick laughed. “I wish I could be there for that.” He paused. “You’re not going to quit are you?”

  “Hell, no,” I quickly replied. “I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.”

  Rick finished his tea as well and set the mug on the counter. His phone beeped. He picked it up and checked it.

  “It’s Diana,” he explained as he texted her back. “She’s wondering where I am. He pressed send and dropped the phone into his back pocket. “I should go. You’re sure you’re okay?”