“Did you eat breakfast?” her dad enquired, changing topic and changing channels as well, to ESPN.
“I did,” she bluffed. She’d eat at her desk later.
They watched tennis on TV. Kat wanted to talk, but she didn’t know what to talk about.
The thing about distance was that too much of it and it became difficult to reconnect.
When it was time for her to go, there was no missing the look of sadness on her parents’ faces, which, by the way, they did their best to hide.
Well, at least they had Keira.
Kat made a half-hearted promise to herself to show up next week and tromped out.
Just as she was entering the New York Times building, Ashley called. Why couldn’t people simply send text messages?
“Ash, if this is about the news on TV, then don’t worry. I’m fine,” Kat said, not giving Ashley the opportunity to even edge in a hello.
“Are you sure? You’re not hiding anything like you did during the stalker incident?” Ashley asked.
The stalker incident… well, everybody seemed to be hell-bent on reminding her about that.
“I’ve learnt my lesson. I won’t try to handle everything by myself again.” Squeezing into the elevator right before it closed, Kat pressed up against the metal wall at the back.
“See a shrink as soon as you can. You don’t realize it now, but post-traumatic stress disorder can really mess you up,” Ashley warned.
Ashley was obviously talking from experience, since Andrew, her fiancé, had been battling PTSD for some time now.
Since Kat knew better than to argue with Ashley, she muttered a noncommittal “Mmmmm,” followed by, “Are you at the office now?”
“On the way. Running late today.” There was a clap on the line. “I wasn’t feeling well in the morning.”
“Morning sickness already?” Kat teased.
“You wish. But no. I checked last week. It’s probably the awful lasagna I had for dinner.” A hiccup rose in Ashley’s throat.
Kat plowed through her curls with her hand, scraping past an annoyed Bill as soon as she got off the elevator.
“I gotta go. My boss is already giving me the look.”
“Remember lunch on Saturday at my apartment. Don’t go chasing down a lead like you did last time. Bella and I waited for hours.”
“That was a one-off.”
Ashley sniggered. “Okay. Bye.”
Hanging up, Kat made a beeline to her desk before Bill’s frown got any deeper.
Alex glanced at the perfectly polished statue of a woman who was sitting across the granite-top desk with her sharp-nailed fingers folded over the edge. Manhattan’s most iconic buildings stood outside the window behind her, gleaming in the orange sunlight.
Posh office with amazing city view. Well, he’d have expected nothing less of Jane Grayson.
Achievements in the form of framed family photographs, PR awards and children’s drawings panned out in front of him, encompassing her table and creeping up to the shelf on the wall.
Jane King, director of press and communications, the golden nameplate propped on her table read.
Jane King. Oh, right, she was married now, wasn’t she?
Alex’s eyes fell to a framed photo of her wrapped in a man’s arms with two young children squishing their cheeks into hers. The man was David King, the co-founder of Patterson & King. The two boys—identical in appearance, blond-haired with ice for eyes like their mother—were unmistakably hers.
Growing decidedly uncomfortable at him examining the silver frame, Jane crossed her sleek legs over each other. Her gray skirt rode up.
“Pleasure to see you, Alex.” Her hand sought his for a handshake.
Ice cold, her skin felt like a popsicle when he shook hands with her. This wasn’t the Jane he remembered. His Jane hadn’t been so cultured, so contained, so calm, so cold.
Alex lowered himself to the seat opposite hers and pointed his chin at the roses on her desk. “Nice flowers.”
If there was such a thing as a PhD in small talk, he probably had it.
“Would you like coffee?” Unnervingly cool and confident, she was very much like a robot. For a second, he blinked, wondering whether the ice sculpture in front of him and the bohemian girl he’d once loved were the same person. The voice was the same, the face, too, but nothing else.
“I’m all right. Thanks.”
“I’ll make one for myself, then. Won’t be a moment.” Gliding across the room, she worked the coffee machine, returning with a cup of dark brew in her hands.
Alex couldn’t peel his eyes away from the photo of her kids.
“Didn’t know you and David had kids.” The words were deliberately said to annoy her. “How old are they?”
“Twelve this November.” Her tone thawed, glinting with motherly affection.
“Twins?” Rolling a pen from her desk between his fingers, Alex leaned back into the leather-cushioned chair. A thread of sunlight from the window shot him straight in the eye.
“Mmmm.” Her lips trembled, raising the cup to her mouth. “Identical twins.”
“What are their names?”
“Duke and Damien.” Straightening, she tugged down her pinstriped coat and narrowed her eyes. “Are you thinking they could have been your children?”
So she hadn’t lost her streak of unpredictability.
Alex dropped his shoulder, shaking his head in agreement. “They could have. If their mother had bothered to show up for her own wedding.”
Jane gnashed her teeth, upping her frigidness to Arctic proportions. “We’re not going to go there.”
“You’re the one who went there first. Might as well go all the way. Wait, I’m sorry, it slipped my mind—you don’t go all the way.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he gave her the look she hated.
He was upset—and not just at Jane. He was angry at himself, too. As if this video mess wasn’t enough, last night he’d spilled a lot of his secrets to a woman he barely knew. It had been bugging him since morning.
Alex didn’t trust people easily. Most people were not trustworthy. His cardinal rule was to never share anything about himself with anyone.
But once he’d started talking to Kat, things had just come pouring out. It had felt natural and easy. Hell, he’d even felt engaged while talking to her, which was a novelty for him these days. He’d been so taken in by her, he’d forgotten who she was. And he’d forgotten it not for a minute, not for a few minutes, but for hours.
“It’s understandable that you’re distressed about the chaotic situation. As you know, changing public perception is a slow process.” Jane brushed his brazen display of animosity under the rug and returned to her monotone. “Your image is bouncing back, thanks to the measures we took immediately after the incident, but the magnitude of negative publicity created by the video has impacted your standing in the race massively. You’re down to second place.” Assertively, she slammed a palm on the table. “We’re hoping to change that by next month.”
“Good, because that’s what I hired you to do.”
“I’ve assembled a team consisting of the best in our firm to deal with your case. I can’t promise that you’ll win back your lead in the race, but I can promise that you will do better than you’re doing now.”
“Excellent. That’s all I needed to hear.” Alex sprang to his feet.
He didn’t want to be around her any more than was necessary.
“Sit,” she commanded, crossing her arms. “We’re not finished.”
“What else?” He sighed.
The tips of her fingers splayed out on the polished surface of the table, sending papers fluttering down the edge. She leaned into him. The unvaried andante of his pulse shifted to an allegro.
“I think you know by now that video… was uploaded with the intention of harming your standing in the race. It’s possible that it could be part of something bigger. A plan.” Bending over her drawers, Jane tossed a magazine that ski
dded across the smooth surface of the table onto his lap. “This came out recently. The tabloid’s not well-known and the pictures are not that incriminating, but thought I’d warn you. Whichever one of your opponents wants to bring you down is very serious about it.”
Turning the pages, Alex clicked his tongue when he caught his face under the subheading ‘Congressman Summer seen with real estate tycoon. Is his affordable housing plan a farce?’
Lines dug themselves into his forehead and he felt the creases move deeper into his skin. Had somebody been following him? Or rather, having him followed?
“Keep an eye on your surroundings. Don’t do anything that will put you in a sticky situation. There’s only so much I can remedy.” Jane pulled her body upright again.
Making a mental note to himself to look into it, Alex crushed the corner of the paper. “I won’t.”
Jane cleared her throat ceremoniously, waited for a second to pass. “Alex, do you know why I didn’t show up that day?”
He froze. It wasn’t even possible to pretend that his nerves were not on the edge. Her answer… he’d been waiting for it for fifteen years. He’d lost hope that it was ever going to come, and made peace with that, but this…
“Do tell,” he urged, sarcastically.
Jane’s eyes darted up. “I was scared of you.”
“You were scared,” Alex parroted dumbly.
Of all the words in the dictionary, she’d picked the one that made him feel like a criminal. When he inhaled, it was the air in the detention center that he smelt, reminded of the accusatory sounds, his experience in captivity.
When Jane tried to speak, he stopped her. “Don’t. I’ve heard enough—”
“No, I have to tell you. I’ve been keeping this inside for years,” Uncharacteristically, she frowned. “To be honest, I couldn’t imagine being married to someone like you. I just couldn’t. I tried, I tried so hard to love you, but your past was just too much for me. I didn’t know what else you were hiding. I didn’t want to be married to a drug addict—”
“I told you I wasn’t a drug addict.”
Her strained gulp was a clear indication that she hadn’t—still didn’t—trust him on that. “I know… but… it’s too much to ask me to overlook everything. A past like that… it leaves scars. It changes a person in terrifying ways.”
The emptiness in Jane’s expression doubled the sense of disappointment he felt at himself. There was that feeling again. The feeling that there was something wrong with him.
Jane was scared of him. Was he that terrifying?
“Then you should have told me all this earlier. Before you gave me false hopes and made me shell out thousands of dollars for something that had no chance of happening.” Far over the decent volume threshold by this point, Alex was enraged.
So many people, so many years, yet every one of them took a jab at the same sore wound. They all had their excuses—the same excuses that he’d been hearing for ages.
You’re unlovable.
Jane averted her face. “I’m sorry. I should have apologized. I should’ve told you before the wedding and spared you from humiliation. I should have. But I didn’t. Because I was really scared. I didn’t want you to try to convince me to stay or change my mind. By leaving, I thought I could escape the unpleasantness. I’m sorry.”
“Stuff the sorries. I don’t need them.” Alex slammed his balled fists on the arms of the chair. Jane reeled back.
He immediately removed his hand from the table to assure her he would never take his anger out physically, but a sound pulled his attention away.
“What’s going on here?” The door to Jane’s office was pushed to the wall by a sturdy-looking man in a yellow shirt and red tie.
Alex glanced at David King—Jane’s husband—who was glowering at him, his hip resting on the doorjamb. The body language screamed, Get out from my wife’s vicinity, Summer, before I maim you.
David was physically large and intimidating. This was one man Alex wanted to stay away from.
Jane pressed her stray hairs into a neat bob. “Everything’s okay, David. Alex and I were just discussing… er… the video. He’s understandably upset about it.”
“I’d appreciate if you could keep the volume down while talking to my wife, Alex.” Decidedly unhappy, David gave Jane a quick visual check before leaving the door open and dragging himself back into his glass-cocooned shell.
“Sorry about that. David’s… overprotective sometimes. I understand your anger, but it’s all in the past now, so I hope we can continue to work together and let it go.” Flushed, Jane dripped coffee into her mouth.
Crawling with competing, self-destructive thoughts, Alex lost the desire to explain himself. “I’ll find my way out.”
The parting line was weak, lacking in any effort.
David directed another bloodthirsty glower at Alex as he removed himself from offices of Patterson & King.
Still dealing with the emotional aftermath of his meeting with Jane, Alex knocked on doors that afternoon, canvassing people to vote for him.
Ahmed, who was supposed to be doing this with him, had bailed out five minutes ago. His wife had hurt her toe and being the hypochondriac that she was, she’d made a huge fuss about it. Ahmed had left to check on her just in case it happened to be something more than a toe fracture.
Alex could’ve left with him, but he wanted to finish this street by afternoon, so he’d stayed on.
“Hello, I’m Alex Summer. I’m running for mayor. Can I have a few minutes of your time?”
He repeated his introduction to an exhausted young mother who looked utterly disinterested. Behind her, her kids were having a three-way tug-of-war in the doorway with a porcelain vase, yelling at the top of their voices. Wiry, with bits of tomato puree stuck in her frizzy hair, she eyed them warily.
“It’s mine!”
“No, it’s mine!”
“You have very energetic kids,” Alex flashed his fakest grin.
“Do you want to take them? Adopt them?” Desperation oozed from her face. From how tight her face was, she could snap and lose it any moment now.
“No, no, thank you. I’m sure they’re happy with you. I can tell that you’re a very good mother.” It was a weak attempt at sarcasm. “This is my leaflet. Please go through it in your own time. It discusses my stance on issues affecting the city. I’m strongly lobbying for after-school support in public schools. As a parent, you must be worried about your children’s education.”
“Education? I’m more worried about how I’m going to feed them this month. My ex-husband’s not sent me the check for child support… as usual. Do you know my youngest was eating sand the other day at school?” Rambling, she ignored the noises in the background. “Maybe I should have given him custody of the kids. What was I thinking, spending thousands in lawyer fees and signing up for so much responsibility? Nobody’s grateful for everything I do. I feel like a maid.” She sighed, putting up her fingers to her temple, when a shriek cut through the two other shrieks.
“Mom, Jimmy bit me!”
“Not again.” Gesturing in the air, she slammed a hand on the door.
Alex was spared from having to respond by an earth-shattering yell. “Mom!”
“Do something!”
An awkward pause chugged by. The lady attempted to get her kids to stop fighting over the vase, but with no success.
When she returned her attention to him, Alex tried to quickly finish. “Please consider voting for me. If you’d like to learn more or you have any questions, I’m having a meet-and-greet in the park over there next week, where you can—”
“I’ll vote for you if you can shut my kids up.” Her dark circles sank an inch deeper when she heard the crash of the vase splintering into fragments. “Shit. That was my mother’s antique vase. Boys! Which one of you broke it?”
“Thank you for your time, ma’am. I believe my plans for busy working families will be of special interest to you.” Sensing things w
ere going to get ugly, Alex slunk away, pitying the poor woman, as the din of shouts spun out of control.
He inched towards the next door.
A wet drop hit his shoe.
In no time at all, thunder growled and water droplets came down like furious bolts, drenching his head and soaking his clothes. Rather than a slow drizzle that grew in intensity, the clouds threw down bombs of water straight away.
When it rains, it pours, huh?
Using the leaflets he was carrying to shield his head, Alex sprinted across the street, but it was coming down so hard, he had to find shelter. He found a dry spot under a door awning in front of house number 1715.
Shaking the moisture away, he took an involuntary step backwards when a stray drop of rain splashed over his face.
His spine pressed into the doorbell and it went off.
Kat was lying on the bed, her vibrator driving her towards an orgasm, when the bell rang.
Moaning one third in pleasure, one third in annoyance and one third in pure frustration as the climax she’d been building up to fizzled out, Kat fired a sigh to the ceiling.
This was the first time in six weeks she had made some time for sex and somebody had chosen to drop by right at this moment.
“Argh!” Her nails attacked the fluffy mattress, trying to tear through it.
She’d been so close to coming—seconds away. And now she was God knew how many weeks away from coming again. Cursing, she snatched a few tissues and got to work wiping herself up.
Who the hell was outside her house in the rain at the precise time when she was trying to give herself some much-needed sexual release?
She’d ordered nothing on Amazon or eBay and she had no relatives or friends who wanted to see her so much that they would battle the crappy weather for it.
Slipping on the first item of clothing she could locate, which happened to be a white camisole and a pair of shorts, Kat scurried to the door.
This had better not be a salesman trying to sell her insurance or she was going to blow up in his face. Wrapped up in her anger, Kat didn’t notice the television remote in her path. She stepped on the remote, which turned on the television.
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