Safe Space II: The Finale

by Tiffany Patterson

  I climbed in my car, still feeling unsettled after talking with my mother, especially after she’d brought up my aunt’s name. That made me think about Chanel and the way she looked when she’d said that I didn’t care. That hurt me to my core. I spent the drive home with the image of that look of hurt on her face in my mind and those words ringing in my ears.

  When I pulled into the driveway of my house, instead of getting out, I just stared at my front door. I loved my home, but at that moment it felt so empty. Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled up my contacts list on my phone. I pressed the name that read “Baby Girl.” Shit was corny, I know, but that’s what she was.

  “Hello?” A groggy voice broke through my thoughts.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Xavier?”

  “Who else?”

  She snorted, and that made me grin a little. Just the sound of her voice did that.

  “It’s close to midnight.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  I heard some rustling in the background and envisioned her sitting up from underneath the covers on her bed.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Why did you have to go see him?” The question came out angrier than I’d intended, but it had been on my mind for the last month. How could she see, let alone speak to someone who’d done what he did to her? For weeks, I went to sleep with the image of her bruised face on my mind, and it took everything in me not to hurt someone. Shit, that image even had me spazzing out at my best friend for not protecting his sister. I still had a private investigator looking for Ethan Miller, but so far, he was still in the wind.

  “Xavier, what do you want me to say?”

  “Say something,” I implored.

  She breathed out heavily. “Is this because you think I still had feelings for Ethan?”

  “Don’t say his name,” I growled.

  A sigh from the other end of the phone.

  “It wasn’t like that, okay? What does it even matter anymore? You’ve made your decision.”

  “What decision? I haven’t said anything.”

  “Exactly. You gave me your ass to kiss when you walked out, refusing to take any of my calls for weeks. Going out of town and not bothering to tell me when you’d be back. Now you’re calling at midnight on a Saturday night. What, you couldn’t find another woman to occupy your time tonight?”

  I simply looked at the screen in my car. Was she serious? “There is no other woman. What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Tension and anger filled her voice. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Goodbye.”

  Not goodnight. Goodbye. It had that permanent ring to it that just didn’t sit well with me.

  I don’t know why I’d called Chanel. I obviously hadn’t gotten whatever answers I was looking for. Licking my wounds from being hung up on, I finally climbed out of my car and dragged myself to my front door. As I crossed over the threshold into my home, I told myself the next time that Chanel and I talked would be in person, where she couldn’t hang up on me, and I wouldn’t be letting her storm off as easily as I had that afternoon.

  Chapter Five

  Chanel

  “Nice moves tonight. I was afraid you’d forgotten how to dance,” Gabby laughed, smacking me on the leg with her towel.

  We had just completed our Caribbean-inspired dance class. It’d been a few weeks since I’d attended the class we frequented twice a week. Between just not wanting to be out in public in general, overworking and getting very little sleep, I just didn’t have it in me to attend these classes.

  “My therapist said getting back into an exercise routine may help me get better sleep at night. Plus, I just missed this place and laughing with you, of course.” I leaned in and nudged Gabby’s shoulder with mine as we sat on the bench, catching our breath.

  “I’m glad she talked you into coming back.”

  “Me too. I even started using the gym in my building more. Just walking on the treadmill with some light weights, but that’s all I need.”

  “The gym?” Gabby raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I get in about thirty minutes before getting ready for work. That’s when it’s the least crowded.”

  She nodded at my explanation. We both had a certain dislike for most traditional gyms. Between the gym regulars who looked down on people who were new or were out-of-shape by their standards, the men who used the gym as their dating service, or the constant barrage of personal trainers looking for their next client, neither of us were fans. Thankfully, there were plenty of other opportunities for us to find a good workout.

  “How’s that going, by the way?”

  “What? The gym?’

  “No, the therapist.”

  “Oh, um…” I paused, trying to figure out how to answer that question. “Dr. Winston is great. I felt a good vibe from her the first time we met. But still…”

  “Still it’s hard trudging up all that ugly shit of your past, right?”

  “Right.”

  I’d been seeing Dr. Winston for about three weeks, and I was more comfortable with her now than our first meeting, but I knew therapy was a long road. I was dealing with things that had been years in the making, so I couldn’t expect to move past them overnight. Thankfully, Dr. Winston’s suggestions had helped with my sleeping. Working out and the little bit of opening up I had revealed to her lightened my nightmares so far and helped me to get some sleep at night.

  However, I still sorely missed being wrapped up in strong arms at night. The number of times I’d picked up the phone to reach out to Xavier in the middle of the night only to fear rejection were countless. That reminder also peeved me again at the memory of his call that Saturday night. When I saw his name pop up on my phone screen, I’d answered quicker than I remembered ever answering a telephone call. I was that damn pathetic and that, of course, is what sparked my anger, which ended with me accusing Xavier of scouting for a woman on a lonely Saturday night, and then hanging up on him.

  “Xavier called me the other night,” I admitted to Gabby.

  “When?”

  “Saturday. Around midnight.”

  “Why does that sound suspiciously like a booty call?”

  “It kinda does, doesn’t it? Well, he got no booty. Not from me, at least.” I frowned, secretly hoped he hadn’t gotten it from anywhere else either.

  “Yeah, a booty call doesn’t sound like Xavier’s style. So what’d he want?”

  “He asked me why I went to see Ethan.”

  “Oh, well that is a legitimate ass question.”

  I closed my eyes, wishing I hadn’t brought up this topic. Gabby was also still a little upset with me for seeing Ethan and not telling her about it. I hadn’t wanted to explain my decision to anyone in the first place, which is why I kept it to myself. Gabby is the one who’d held me crying many nights after I’d finally gotten the strength to leave him. Even when I felt weak and had wanted to go back—yes, those days did happen—she’d been my rock, promising me that I’d made the right decision.

  “I don’t know why I did, initially. Maybe I felt like I owed it to him.” I held up my hand when an incredulous looked passed over her face. She looked like she was about to read me the riot act. “I know. I know, Gab. I don’t owe him shit, but there was a part of me that felt guilty for just up and leaving the way I did. No note or anything. And I know it’s stupid to feel that way, but as Dr. Winston has told me, feelings don’t always make sense.”

  Gabby took a few deep breaths. I assumed it was an attempt to let go of her bubbling anger. Any discussion of Ethan often led to her flying off the handle. And considering her past, I could understand.

  “Please don’t tell me you still feel that way.”

  “I—” I began, only to be cut off.

  “Even if you do feel that way, just tell me you don’t. For my sanity and peace of mind. Because I swear, if you tel
l me you think you owe that conniving motherfucker anything…”

  “Gabby,” I stated calmly, grabbing both of her hands that were frantically waving midair. “I know I don’t owe him anything. We met once,” I emphasized. “He apologized, and he hasn’t made any attempt to contact me again.”

  Okay, that wasn’t the full truth either. Ethan did email me again after that article came out. I guess somehow he’d heard about it and emailed me to apologize again for all the trouble and the possible damage to my professional reputation. That was the last contact I’d had with Ethan, but I didn’t feel the need to tell that to Gabby. She still wasn’t convinced his first apology was sincere. But she hadn’t looked into his eyes the way I had. She didn’t hear the sincerity in his voice and the finality in his eyes when we parted ways that day.

  “Now, can we drop it?”

  “Fine.” She blew out a hard breath. “You just know what talking about him does to me.”

  “I do, which is why I won’t be bringing up that name ever again. You want to stop at that ice cream shop not too far from here?” It was late September but the weather was still warm, and ice cream sounded like the perfect end to this day.

  “You and your sweet tooth,” she laughed.

  “They have vegan ice cream,” I singsonged, trying to convince her.

  “Who gets ice cream after working out?” She shook her head.

  “We do.”

  “Whatever. On the way over you can tell me more about what you plan to do about your Xavier’s situation.”

  “There is no Xavier situation.” I gathered the rest of my belongings, stuffing my work clothes from earlier into my workout bag.

  “Hmm, we’ll talk about it over ice cream.”

  I just shook my head and followed her out of the locker room. Ever since that casual exchange between Xavier and me at the restaurant, which Gabby happened to see, she’d been telling me how much we weren’t over. I’m sure telling her about his call Saturday night only served to spur her insistence. I didn’t feel like telling her again that we were through. Better yet, I didn’t feel like addressing the ache that still lingered in my chest at the mere thought of him and me being over.

  ****

  A few days later, I strolled into the office a little after nine A.M. It was late for me, but I’d had a breakfast meeting with a client’s spouse’s lawyer. We’d been able to come to some agreement on the terms of a divorce, and it looked like this one would be over relatively quickly. I was happy about that because I was about to take on another client who, while not famous, was rather wealthy and I just knew this divorce was going to drag out.

  “Good morning, Liza. Do I have any messages?” I asked, stopping by the receptionist’s desk.

  “Yup, just one from Richard Crawford,” she answered, handing me a paper she’d written the message on.

  “Thank you.” I took the note and headed to my office. Reading the note, I stopped mid-stride when I saw the restaurant where we were scheduled to have our meeting.

  “Liza, this has to be changed. I can’t eat at this restaurant.”

  She gave me a puzzled look. “I thought you liked Grant’s. I’d told Mr. Crawford’s assistant it would be fine.”

  I was shaking my head before all the words were out of her mouth. “I do—I mean, I did. I can’t do Grant’s.” There was no way I wanted to take the chance of running into Xavier again. “You know what? I’ll give you a list of restaurants we need to avoid from here on out.” Xavier owned too many restaurants around this damn city. I needed to make it a point to tell Liza to avoid all of them.

  “I can’t.”

  I stopped short again. “What?”

  Poor Liza’s honey-toned face looked on the verge of fear at what she saw on my face.

  “I can’t reschedule the meeting with Mr. Crawford. His assistant specifically told me that Mr. Crawford was out of town and would be out of reach until he returned tomorrow evening. He’ll be heading straight to dinner from the airport.”

  I closed my eyes, counting backward from ten to one. It’d be rude to try and catch Richard from the airport and tell him we’d scheduled at a different restaurant. I’m sure the reservation was already set up.

  “Okay. What’s done is done.” I caught the quizzical look Liza gave me as I pivoted to head to my office. I couldn’t blame her. I’d never informed her not to schedule a meeting at Grant’s or any other restaurant. And since she and I weren’t personal friends, I couldn’t very well tell her I wanted to avoid that place since the owner and I had broken up.

  “It’ll be fine,” I mumbled to myself as I entered my office. Xavier owned plenty of restaurants, any one of them he might frequent on a Friday night. What are the chances he’d be at Grant’s the following evening? I was probably worrying over nothing.

  Chapter Six

  Chanel

  I was hit by the music from the live jazz band as soon as I opened the door. I recognized a rendition of Luther Vandross’ “Never Too Much”. I loved this song and felt the rhythm, and good vibes of this place hit my soul as I entered. I’d missed coming here over the last month. I was finally able to admit that to myself. As much as Xavier was a behind- the-scenes owner, his fingerprints were all over this place, more so than any of his other establishments. I guessed that was because this place was the one he put the most of himself into, having named it after his mother and all.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  I smiled at Joel. “Hey, you’re hosting tonight?”

  Joel was one of the bartenders on weekend nights. It was a surprise to see him not behind the bar but instead taking names for tables.

  “For a little while. We’re short-staffed tonight, so they called me in to cover for the hostess who got sick. I was supposed to have the evening off.”

  “That sucks.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Boss man already called another employee to act as hostess so I can hop behind the bar. Tips are the best on Friday and Saturday nights.”

  I gave him a half-smile but didn’t say anything. I silently hoped he was referring to the restaurant manager and not Xavier when he mentioned boss man.

  “I’m meeting someone here. The reservation should be under Crawford,” I informed him.

  “Let’s see…” He ran his finger down the clipboard of names. “Here it is. And Mr. Crawford has already arrived. You’re at table two. Right this way.” I followed as he made his way through the dining area toward the back to a line of booths.

  “There she is.” Richard Crawford stood as we approached. He was about six feet tall with sandy blond hair and a brawny build that was easily attributed to his years in construction. Richard was a successful real estate developer in the Houston area. “Hello, darlin’.” He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek which, although atypical for a client-attorney relationship, spoke to Richard’s charming personality. He was a natural flirt, which also explained why this was his third divorce.

  “Richard,” I greeted him. “Thank you, Joel.”

  “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” Joel stated before nodding at both Richard and me, and leaving.

  “How was your trip?” I questioned Richard as he sat down.

  “It was excellent, darlin’,’” he stated in that southern Texas lilt I’d missed so much while living away from home. “We’re making good progress on this next project, and getting ready to break ground on another site in Dallas.”

  “Sounds busy.”

  Richard was interrupted when our waiter returned to pour us glasses of water.

  “You drinkin’ tonight?”

  I smiled. “Amaretto sour for me.”

  “That’s one amaretto sour for the lady and a scotch for me. And keep ‘em coming.”

  “Oh no, just one for me, thank you. Unlike you, I’m driving tonight.”

  Richard let out a belly laugh. “Hell, darlin’, I just got back from a weeklong trip on site with a bunch of construction guys. I plan on taking advantage of being in
the presence of a beautiful woman tonight.” He gave me a wink.

  I shook my head and smirked. “You want to start talking business now or wait until after we order?”

  “After we order. Why talk about divorce when we can talk about you and me?” He gave me a seductive grin, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

  I busted out laughing, tossing my head back and simply shaking it at my flirtatious client. I was sure he was just kidding, so I wasn’t worried about hurting his feelings.

  “What, I’m too old for you?”

  That elicited another laugh.

  “Fine. I do have a son. He’s twenty-five and needs a good woman to help him settle down.”

  “Richard.”

  He shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

  I laughed a little more and picked up my napkin from my lap to dab at the corners of my eyes. I looked up, out over Richard’s shoulder, and my eyes collided with a pair of sharp, coffee orbs. The look in Xavier’s eyes told me he wasn’t happy with the picture he saw in front of him. He stared at me for a second longer before his gaze flitted over to stare at the back of Richard’s head. If looks could kill…

  My eyes widened at the realization that Xavier was interpreting my dinner with Richard as a date.

  “You look like a deer caught in headlights.”

  Richard’s words brought my attention back to the table.

  “Sorry.”

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that fella starin’ daggers into the back of my head, would it?”

  “How did you…?”

  “He’s been staring at us for a minute. If you weren’t so enamored in your stare down you would’ve seen me turn to look in his direction. A friend of yours?”

  I snorted. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.” He held his hands out at his sides for emphasis.

  “No, you’ve got a divorce that needs handling.” I attempted to get back on track with the original cause for this meeting.

  “Okay, we can talk shop for a little while. The sooner I get this divorce over with, the sooner I can commence with wooing you. It seems I’ve got some competition.” Richard turned to peer over his shoulder to where Xavier had stood. However, he was no longer there. His back was now to us as he moved toward the back exit of the restaurant.