Annihilate Me

by Christina Ross

  And what is the board at Wenn going to think of that? I thought.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When the elevator doors opened and we arrived on the rooftop, it was teeming with people, and an orchestra was playing at the opposite end of the roof. More composed now than we were earlier, Alex took my hand in his and we walked into something that looked as if it was out of a fairytale.

  How did Henri Dufort ever manage to create the gardens I saw before me now? Just getting the dirt up here alone had to have been a massive undertaking, never mind all the established bushes, flowering shrubs and grass that I saw.

  At this height, the city views were magnificent. Better yet, probably because the building was buffered by the Park, which was just across the street, it wasn’t as windy as I thought it would be. Instead, there was only a light breeze that was buffered by the trees he’d planted and that made the lower half of my dress seem almost weightless when the air caught the material and caused it to ripple around my ankles.

  A waiter with a silver tray filled with glasses of champagne stopped beside us. Alex took a glass for each of us. We sipped and walked along the tiled surface, the lot of which was bordered by the gardens. The space was huge and carefully designed. The gardens were meant to be a spectacular feature, but not impede the deck’s main purpose—entertainment.

  “This is incredible,” I said to Alex.

  “I’ve seen a lot of impressive rooftops, but I have to admit, you don’t see this every day.”

  “How did he ever manage to do this?”

  “Google it. The Times did a big piece on it when it was finished. All the details are there. It’s a good read.” Something caught his eye, and he brought his glass to his lips. “Shit,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Your old friend Tootie Staunton-Miller is here. She and her husband Addy are coming this way.”

  “Well, at least I like Addy.”

  “There’s nothing not to like about him. As for her? She’s a viper.”

  “I'm ready for her.”

  “You’ll need to be.”

  “Alex!” Tootie said as she closed the distance between us. She was wearing a sleek navy blue evening dress that, even at her age, didn’t betray an extra pound of body fat. She was nothing if not fit and well preserved. She gave Alex an air kiss on each cheek, and made a clear point to ignore me. “You look as handsome as ever,” she said.

  “Hello, Tootie. Addy,” Alex said.

  “Good to see you, Alex,” Addy said. “And also you, Jennifer. You look more beautiful each time I see you.”

  “Thank you, Addy. You look pretty dapper yourself.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said, ignoring his wife’s disapproving glance. “This is a wonderful party. We arrived just after you two.”

  “Yes,” Tootie said. “That was quite a display of affection we saw when you exited your car. All caught by the cameras. All calculated for the press.”

  “Excuse me?” Alex said.

  “Nothing, nothing. Sorry, sorry.” She shot me a glance. “It’s just that’s it’s so unusual to see anything like that at these sorts of events. Most of us eschew the press. I nearly gasped when I saw you two entwined so romantically with each other.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with spontaneity,” Alex said. “Or romance. I rather enjoyed it. Tootie, you remember Jennifer?”

  “How could I forget Jennifer? Hellohoware?”

  I held up my glass of champagne. “As effervescent as ever, Tootie.”

  “No doubt. That’s a pretty dress.” She stared straight at my plunging neckline. “It’s almost understated for you. Who designed it?”

  “Dior.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Dior, Dior. The last time I saw you, you were in Dior. You must experiment, Jennifer.”

  “The last time I saw you, I was in Valentino.”

  “Oh. I don’t—”

  “Remember? Care? It really doesn’t matter to me. Either way, I have been experimenting. You should see whom I’ve been wearing. But you haven’t. I guess we don’t travel in the same circles, Tootie. I’m beginning to think that we’re worlds apart. At least on some levels.”

  She seethed at that.

  “We just returned from a brief trip to Maine,” Alex said, trying his best to break the tension.

  “Maine,” Tootie said. “That’s right. That’s where you’re from, isn’t it, Jennifer? Inland, I believe?”

  “That’s right, Tootie. Inland.”

  “I can see why you got out. Manhattan offers so much more.”

  “Manhattan has its perks. But Maine? I love Maine.”

  “Really? Even inland?”

  “Even inland. The people are real there. Nobody is fake or pretends to be something that they aren’t. You can go anywhere and feel welcomed there, not judged. Never judged. I love inland Maine for that very reason. In fact, I count on it for that.”

  “How interesting.”

  “Is it interesting?”

  “I find it interesting.”

  “Then that’s what’s interesting. As for the coast of Maine, which you’d probably enjoy, it’s another story all together. The Rockefellers have several estates there. And then there are the Morgans and the Vanderbilts. And obviously the Astors and the Fords, who have estates that would leave even you breathless, Tootie. Or maybe they wouldn’t—who knows what impresses you? Also, a fair amount of Hollywood lives there, though I doubt if you care a trace about them because none of them are in the book. Still, you get the idea. Maine calls people to its coast. It’s special. And really, if you don’t want to be disappointed in Maine, as I sense you might be if you somehow found yourself stranded inland for instance, you just need to know where to go. For instance, the ocean isn’t so far from where I used to live. In Bar Harbor, there’s a fantastic place called Thunder Hole. You should see it, Tootie.”

  “It sounds to me like some awful theme park ride for children.”

  “It’s actually an impressive display of nature. When the tide surges in, it offers up an angry, almost violent explosion of water that tunnels into the sky. I think you’d take to it quite readily.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Did Alex meet your family while you were there? I’d love to hear about that.”

  “We went down to the Point,” Alex said. “You remember our home there, Tootie. You went with Mother several times. Probably twenty years ago. Jennifer and I decided to visit, and to take some time out for ourselves.”

  “That sounds romantic,” Addy said, clearly annoyed with his wife.

  “It was, Addy.”

  “I can only imagine how romantic it was,” Tootie replied.

  I’d probably hear about it later, but I didn’t care. I leaned toward her, and said, “You have no idea. I’m still sore.”

  Her mouth fell open, and I saw Addy try to suppress a smile. Alex took a long pull on his champagne and reached for my free hand.

  “It was good to see you, Addy,” I said.

  Addy’s eyes twinkled. “It’s always good to see you, Jennifer.”

  “And you, Tootie. Seeing you always is a curiosity of insights.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I decided to let her figure it out on her own. Alex and I started to walk forward into the crowd. “Enjoy your evening,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Thunder Hole?” Alex said in a bemused voice as we walked into the crowd. “Really?”

  “I’d like shove her into it. She obviously doesn’t like me.”

  “I’d say it’s mutual.”

  “If she had been civil toward me the first time we met, I never would have behaved that way. But she wasn’t—she was a snob. She looked down upon me. Remember? I’m not in the book. Oh, how she brings out the devil in me. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Actually, I wanted to laugh a few times. So did Addy—I
could see it on his face. She’s a nasty woman—always has been. That’s probably one of the reasons she and my mother were such good friends. Nasty attracts nasty. I’ve never liked her, either.” He leaned toward my ear. “Are you really still sore?”

  “Not that sore.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “Naughty boy. So, where is Dufort?”

  “Holding court over there. Do you see? Down about halfway to your right. It looks as if he’s sitting in some kind of antique gilt chair.”

  “It’s like a throne. And why not? He’s king here tonight. How old is he today, anyway?”

  “The invitation said he was celebrating his sixtieth, but everyone here knows it’s at least his seventieth. Though I have to hand it to him—he looks good for his age.”

  “He probably pays his toxes.”

  “He pays his what?”

  “Botox. His toxes.”

  “You’re in a mood tonight,” he said. “I like you like this. It means you’re going to be fun in bed later.”

  “You really need to focus, Alex. That’s me consulting you. That’s me earning my salary right there.”

  “Noted.”

  I stopped walking and became serious. “Look who else is here.”

  “Who?”

  “About a hundred feet ahead of us. Just to your left. Darius Stavros and his son, Cyrus. We probably should go over and say hello to them.”

  “I’d prefer that Cyrus gets nowhere near you.”

  “We’re beyond that now, aren’t we?”

  “I suppose we are.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me with Cyrus or with anyone else.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m with you.”

  He clutched my hand harder. “You don’t say that enough for me. You don’t know what that means to me. I’m trying my best to convince you to come closer to me, but you keep throwing up walls.”

  “I didn’t this weekend.”

  “I don’t mean physical. I mean mental. Emotional.”

  “Alex, you’re the only man I’ve ever been interested in. You’re the only man I’ve been with. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “It does.”

  “It should tell you everything you need to know about where I stand in this relationship. Let’s just enjoy what we have. Let me work through my trust issues. The more I’m with you and the more seamlessly things go between us, the more those walls of mine will come down. But right now? Now, we’re here, and I’m happy to be here. I’m eager for what’s coming later, after the party, when it’s just the two of us. But we’re working now. As your consultant—and I’m not joking about this—we need to go over and do our duty. Through Cyrus, you got your deal with Stavros Shipping. We have to go over and greet each of them in order to keep everyone happy so that when it comes time to renew the contract, we’re able to just slide into it without a hitch.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  In my clutch, I felt my cell buzz, which likely was a text from Lisa. “Just two seconds,” I said. “She knows I’m here, and would never interrupt unless it was important. Let me check.” I put my glass of champagne down on the table next to me.

  “Take your time. I’m in no hurry to see Cyrus.”

  “Cyrus is greasy, but he got you the deal,” I sang as I removed my cell.

  “So he did.”

  I flicked on my phone and saw that it wasn’t a text, but an email sent to the corporate account I had with Wenn. Its subject line read, “Dead soon. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or not. But soon.” I didn’t recognize the sender’s address, and was about to delete it as SPAM when I noticed that there was an attachment. Out of curiosity, I clicked on it, and a photo of me leaving the limousine when we first arrived here tonight filled the screen. I felt a chill.

  “Is she OK?” Alex asked.

  “It’s not from Lisa.”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He turned to me. “You sound tense. Is something wrong?”

  I needed time to process this, and didn’t want to send him off his game before he spoke to Dufort. I deflected. “Let’s say hello to Darius and Cyrus, then you can work your magic with Dufort. Then we can go back to your place.”

  “What did you just receive?”

  As unnerved as I was, I still wasn’t sharing this with him now, so I kept focused on the task at hand. “I’ll tell you later, but time is running out. We have work to do. You’re getting that deal with Dufort. Or at least you’re going to tempt him with it. Come on,” I said, putting my phone in my clutch and willing myself to relax. I was shaken, but I couldn’t let it show here. I smiled at him. “Let’s finish this so we can go home and tend to some unfinished business.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, our conversation with Darius and Cyrus over, Alex spoke with Dufort while I hung back and watched the crowd.

  I recognized many of the guests from their photographs in the Times, in the Journal, on television or on the Internet, but I also recognized two other faces in the crowd, one of whom was looking at me with open hostility.

  It was Immaculata Almendarez. Alex had snubbed her at the fundraiser for the National Museum of Art when she had tried to set Alex and me up by having us sit next to her at dinner so she could belittle me by flirting with Alex. All of that failed spectacularly for her when Alex took her down with a fistful of words before he got us another table. Here, she was with an older gentleman who looked familiar to me. And then I recognized him—Richard Gould, the CEO of AT&T.

  I glanced away from her and looked over at Gordon Kobus, whose airline Alex was preparing to take over. He was talking to a beautiful blonde woman half his age, thus underscoring the playboy reputation Alex had told me he was known for.

  I watched him for a moment, and was surprised when he turned his attention to me. His face showed no sense of surprise at seeing me here, which suggested that he’d already seen Alex and me. Instead, he just held my gaze while his mouth tightened into a thin line of hatred. I’d done nothing to the man, but apparently my association with Alex was enough for Kobus to take a dislike of me, especially because he knew that Alex was currently wooing Kobus’ management team in an effort to make the potential takeover go smoothly.

  Did one of them send me that email? Or did it come from someone else on this roof? I wondered if I was being paranoid. Certainly, the people in this room had better things to do than send threats.

  Or did they? Over the years, since he’d assumed control of Wenn, Alex had made his share of enemies. He’d undertaken several hostile takeovers, and by merging his company with others in an effort to downsize, he’d left plenty without work in an already difficult economy.

  As friendly as everyone appeared to be tonight—with the exceptions of Immaculata and Kobus—I could sense a toxic undercurrent, likely because I still was an outsider and not used to playing their games. Dufort had invited the most powerful men and women in the city to his birthday bash, all of whom were competitive overachievers who knew that at any moment, any person on this roof could turn against them in ways that might ruin them.

  Perhaps now more than ever, I saw Alex’s professional life as it was, and I didn’t like any of it. At least not the social part of it. Working behind the scenes as his consultant was another story. That made perfect sense to me because I knew I could benefit him there. But this was now the third time I’d played dress up and gone out to a party with him, only to have a snob, a competitor, or a woman who wanted Alex for herself look down upon me. I’d never played those kinds of games with anyone, but without question, that sort of behavior was deeply rooted here.

  I looked over at Alex, and saw, with a sense of relief, that he had Dufort’s attention—the man was listening intently to him and was often nodding as Alex spoke. All good signs. I hoped he was teasing Dufort just enough to get a meeting with the man.

  A server stopped besi
de me and asked if I’d like a canapé, but I declined. I looked around the space with a sense of cynicism I didn’t have when we first arrived—and for good reason. Since then, I’d had to deal with the email, and then the harsh looks from Immaculata and Kobus.

  I thought about the email, and was convinced that it either came from somebody who was here right now, or from somebody who obviously wanted to rattle Alex by using me as a target. Whoever sent it was expecting me to share it with him for that reason, but should I? Was someone seriously out to kill me? Now that I’d had time to reflect, the idea seemed absurd to me. What initially felt like a genuine threat, now felt more like a cheap prank that I shouldn’t be concerned with.

  Whoever sent it didn’t exactly have to be a genius. I was on Wenn’s website. My email address was listed there. If, for whatever reason, someone wanted to shake Alex by threatening me, they had everything they needed—my email address, a photo taken of me when we arrived tonight, and a death threat. All were effective. As Alex continued to talk to Dufort, I decided to enjoy the rest of the night and dismiss the email as a jolt intended to throw me—and potentially him—off guard.

  Welcome to the world of big business, I thought. Maybe this is what Alex was talking about yesterday when he said that whatever was happening to him was normal and under control. Maybe this is my new normal. Maybe I need to accept that.

  I thought of the note Alex gave me. While he was with Dufort, I finally saw my chance to read it. I turned my back to him, and removed it from my clutch. I unfolded it and was surprised by how long it was. It wasn’t a note, but a letter. With a sense of trepidation, I read it.

  At the top of the page, in his own handwriting, he wrote, “This is from Steinbeck: A Life in Letters. It’s one of my favorite books. When we were in Maine, whenever I saw you or thought of you, I thought of this, because I’m in love with you, Jennifer. Steinbeck wrote this letter to a friend of his. It reminded me again of how short life is, not that I need to be reminded after what happened to Diana. But still. I wanted you to know how I feel about you. I know now that life is too short to not tell you. For me, there’s no shame in telling you exactly how I feel about you—and about us—even if you feel differently.”