by Reese Ryan
Damien stands and holds out a hand in my direction. “Have a seat, Ms. Gordon,” he says calmly. “Allow me to handle this.”
Letting out a long gust of air, I nod and sit back in my chair.
“Ms. Cohen, you were asked to leave. There won’t be a problem that could have a negative impact on your severance, will there?”
Priscilla huffs and leaves the room with Jane on her heels.
Damien and I sit in silence for a few seconds. Finally when my heartbeat returns to a normal rate, I speak. “How’d you know Priscilla tipped off Delveccio? Or about her sabotaging my meeting with the Crushers?”
“I received an email from an Autumn Montgomery,” he says. “I believe you know her.”
“Raine’s sister? Why would she email you?”
“Ms. Montgomery has done some investigating of her own. Apparently Delveccio and a coworker Priscilla confided in sang like canaries.” He puts his cell phone back in the breast pocket of his immaculately tailored suit. “Ms. Montgomery was protecting her brother, and you by extension. This time it worked in your favor. Ms. Gordon, do you trust me?”
I force my eyes to meet his and swallow. “No,” I say.
The corner of his mouth curls in a proud smirk. “Good. You should never completely trust anyone. Don’t be fooled by the Montgomerys, no matter how noble or stupid they appear. A family that powerful will always protect its own interests.”
“Thank you, Damien.” His inference that Raine isn’t to be trusted smarts, but I’m determined not to let him see this. “I appreciate your continued confidence in me.”
“You’ll have it until I have valid reason to believe otherwise.” Damien stands. “But remember, this company is my family. I’ll do anything necessary to protect its interests.”
“I know.” I follow him to the door.
“Good,” he says. “I’m glad we understand each other.”
* * *
After Damien, Jane and Priscilla are gone, I update Leslie on what’s happened. I wait until it’s a decent hour for a party girl living on the West Coast, then I go into my office, dig out Autumn Montgomery’s business card and dial her number.
“Autumn, this is Melanie. Melanie Gordon.”
“Hey, Melanie. What’s up?”
I can barely hear her. There are voices and music in the background. “Why did you email my boss?”
“I was hoping Mr. Jasper would keep that confidential.” Her tone becomes serious.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I had to be sure it wasn’t you who tipped off that fucking sleazeball reporter,” she says. “Once I found out who the snitch was, I hired a PI to do some digging. That Priscilla’s a real piece of work. Her neighbors and coworkers were only too happy to spill their guts once my guy waved a few bucks in their faces.” Autumn must have ducked into the bathroom to take my call. The background noise is gone, and her voice seems to echo off the walls.
“How’d you get Delveccio to kill the story?”
“What he wanted, more than the money, was a shot at becoming a legitimate journalist. I pulled a few favors. He got a job at the Telegraph. I got the file he’s been keeping on our family.”
“Why’d you do it?” I tap the Mont Blanc pen against my desk blotter. “Stories about your family run in the tabloids all the time. You guys seem to live for publicity. So why’d you kill the story?”
“I know we’re fucked up and dysfunctional and it seems like we don’t give a shit about each other,” Autumn says, slightly agitated. “But I love my brother and I’d do anything to protect him. He’s been through enough. I don’t want to see him get hurt again.”
“I get why you killed the story.” I ignore her barely veiled threat. “Why’d you save my job?”
“Nobody fucks with the Montgomerys,” she says. “My brother loves you. That makes you one of us. Like it or not.” She drags on what, according to the well-publicized terms of her probation, had better be a cigarette.
Buzzed Autumn, I’ve decided, is far less tolerable than Hung-Over Autumn. “Well, whatever your reason for doing it, I’m grateful that you did,” I say. “I’ve worked hard to get to this point in my career.”
“I know and I admire you for it.” She takes another drag and then coughs like she’s about to lose a lung. “I’m sorry if I came off a little bitchy. I’ve had a hell of a week.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug. My cell phone rings. Raine’s picture shows up on the screen. “I’ve gotta go anyway. Your brother’s calling.”
“Hey, is there any way we can keep this from Beau? He hates it when we meddle in his life.”
Taking a deep breath, I watch my phone inch across the desk. “I’m sorry, Autumn. I can’t. We promised each other no more secrets.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” she moans. “Whatever, it’s fine. Tell Beau I said hey and that I love him,” she says. A toilet flushes in the background. “I gotta go. Bye.”
* * *
I know I should let this go, but I can’t. I’m no angel, nor do I expect everyone in the world to love me. But I have to know, need to know, why Priscilla Cohen has gone to such great lengths to ruin my life.
After Leslie has gone for the day, I pick up the telephone and give Priscilla a call.
“Calling to gloat, Gordon?” Her tone is icier than the inside of a Sub-Zero freezer. “If so, I’m not in the mood. You won. Game over.”
“This isn’t a game. It’s my life. And it was your career.”
“I fucked up. I think we’ve already established that,” she says. “So if you don’t have anything new, I’ve got some packing to do.”
“I just need to know why,” I say. “Despite everything that’s happened between us, I have to admit, you’re a hell of a headhunter. So why’d you risk everything just to ruin my life? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?”
Priscilla sighs heavily but doesn’t say anything. I drum my fingers on the desk, waiting.
“Look, I don’t wanna do this right now,” she says. “Meet me at my place in two hours. I have a few client files I have to turn over to you anyway.”
I bite my lip and tap my fingers on the table a few times. “Okay,” I hear myself say. “I’ll see you in two hours.”
* * *
“Are you crazy?” Leslie practically bites my head off through the phone when I tell her I’m on my way to Priscilla’s apartment. “She already tried to kill you once!”
“She’s vindictive, but she’s not insane,” I say. Though I’m not so sure I believe it. “I’ll be fine. I just wanted you to know where I was going—”
“In case you come up missing?”
“Something like that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Stop worrying and go back to dinner with the girls,” I say.
“If you don’t call me back in thirty minutes, I’m calling the cops.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’m here. Call you in half an hour.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath and knock on the door. There’s no answer, so I knock harder. I hear footsteps approach. The door swings open.
“Mel? What are you doing here?” Jaxson, dressed only in a pair of boxers, closes the door partially, as if I haven’t already seen the entire show.
“I’m here because Priscilla asked me to come here,” I say. “Let me guess, she called you a couple of hours ago and said something like, ‘If you can be here in an hour, I’ll fuck your brains out.’ Sound about right?”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. A deep shade of red peeks through his warm brown skin tone. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know she invited you here, I swear.”
“Save it, Jaxson.” I wave him off. “Three days ago you were on my couch telling me how much you love
d me. Today you’re stepping out of someone else’s bed. Something about that seems astonishingly familiar.”
I push my way into the apartment past a still-stunned Jaxson. Priscilla stands in the middle of the living room, wearing what I presume is his dress shirt with only the three middle buttons fastened.
“I guess I let the time get away from me.” Priscilla can barely contain her victory grin. “We thought you were the pizza guy.”
“The files?” I stick my hand out.
“Right.” She picks up a stack of folders on the coffee table and hands them to me. “Sorry, but now’s not the best time for us to talk after all.” She nods toward Jax and smirks. “We were right in the middle of something.”
“If memory serves me,” I say, looking over my shoulder at Jaxson with a smug smile, “there is no middle. Just a beginning and a really quick end.”
Priscilla folds her arms, narrows her eyes and scrunches her post-surgery nose. The triumphant smile tightens. “You’ve got your files. But I guess the talk will just have to wait.”
“We don’t need to talk.” I tuck the folders under my arm and smile. “I got the answer I was looking for. This isn’t about me at all. It has everything to do with who you are. You’re a spiteful bitch, a miserable being incapable of feelings and unworthy of my consideration. In fact—” I nod toward Jax, “—I can’t think of two people who deserve each other more.”
The smirk leaves Priscilla’s face. One eye blinks involuntarily. Jax puts his head down and covers his face with his hand.
I head down the hall and punch the elevator button.
“You think you’re such hot shit, Miss Regional Branch Manager.” Priscilla stands in the hallway in her bare feet. “Damien was against opening a Great Lakes branch from the start. His partner overrode him on the decision. The only reason you got the job is because if the shit hit the fan, they could roll the whole thing up and hang it around your neck. Damien considered you acceptable collateral damage.”
My heart beats furiously in my chest, but I refuse to look back at her, even though I know what she says is true. My sudden promotion felt too good to be true. Now I know why. It was.
Once I step into the elevator, I lean against the wall and let out a deep breath. I don’t feel angry or sad. Just relieved. All I want to do is go home to the man I love. The man I know, without a doubt, loves me.
Raine may not be perfect, but he’s everything I want. Everything I need. Suddenly being with him doesn’t feel like settling for less than perfect. It feels like I’ve been given a tremendous gift. One I will treasure for the rest of my life.
Epilogue
I look at myself in my mother’s full-length vintage mirror. For the first time in my life I can say—without equivocation—that I look absolutely beautiful. I might even use the word stunning.
I’m wearing an exquisite, one-shoulder, pale pink silk taffeta gown. I flare the short train out behind me in dramatic fashion. Reaching up, I readjust the small crown of flowers circling my simple but elegant updo. A few curls, not a single one of them in their usual unruly state, spills over the crown of flowers.
I’m surrounded by the women in my family. My sisters, my mother, my aunts, my cousins. Everyone looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen them. Tonie, a makeup artist and a friend of Mimi’s, has been hired to come to my childhood home and make everyone’s faces for today’s monumental event. It’s a day we never expected to come. Another Gordon family wedding. For a while it seemed that no one except my sister would ever get married.
My mother was so in her element the day Mimi got married. She floated around on cloud nine in a lavender gown, her hair in an elegant upsweep, her makeup just right. I remembered thinking I’d never seen her look happier. She told us it was one of the best moments of her life. Seeing one of her daughters on the brink of starting a family of her own, having found the love of her life. I can only hope she’s just as happy today.
I want to remember everything about this day. How I look. How I feel. The tremendous amount of love from my family and friends. Just the thought of it overwhelms me. Tears begin to form and threaten to spill from my carefully made-up eyes. I think of all of Tonie’s hard work and do my best to choke back the tears. I fan my widened eyes, just the way she showed us. She used waterproof mascara, but even that can only take a girl so far.
“Are you ready, baby?” My mother peeks her head into the doorway. “It’s time.” She looks lovely in a tea-length gown made of a delicate, cream-colored silk.
I take a deep breath and nod. She hands me my bouquet of flowers, and we head downstairs, where Mimi, Jamie and my second cousin, Nyla, are gathered near the back door in the kitchen.
“Finally!” Jamie stretches and rubs her burgeoning belly. “This kid thinks my bladder is an easy chair. Let’s get a move on before I have to pee again. Besides, we’ve gotta get out there before that man changes his mind.”
“Be nice, you.” Mom points a finger at her.
Leslie helps Jamie to her feet and hands her bouquet to her. She grabs my hand and leans in to kiss me, careful not to get lipstick on my face. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And thank you for doing this. You and Mimi have done a spectacular job today.”
Leslie smiles, then she signals Mrs. Leonard, one of my mother’s dearest friends and a tolerable organist from the kitchen window. Mrs. Leonard shushes the crowd, and everyone takes their seats.
Our backyard looks like a lush garden paradise. The lawn is thick, like plush, green carpet. Brightly colored peonies, impatiens and roses line the edges of the yard. A sea of white wooden folding chairs tied with cream-colored ribbon is divided into two sections—the groom’s side and the bride’s side. A white runner creates a pathway spanning from the back deck all the way to the minister waiting to perform the ceremony.
My stomach does backflips. I remind myself to breathe in and out slowly. Just relax, and everything will be fine.
Finally Mrs. Leonard begins to play the organ.
Jamie, dressed in a knee-skimming sage-green dress with wide shoulder straps and an empress waistline, makes her way down the aisle.
Mimi looks dazzling in a delicate, strapless gown in the faintest shade of peach. The dress is floor length with a thigh-high split that is tasteful, yet sexy. A spray of flowers attached to a delicate comb holds her hair neatly in place. My little sister looks regal.
Now it’s my turn. I step onto the white runner and fix my eyes on the prize ahead of me. I ignore all of the people staring, oohing and ahhing. Right now I have to concentrate on breathing (in and out) and putting one foot in front of the other. I’m walking much faster than I should be, maybe even twice the agreed-upon bridal gait. But my chief concern is getting to the end of the aisle without tripping or otherwise making a complete fool of myself.
Once I’m finally in my designated place, I let out a sigh of relief and wait for the real show to begin.
Mrs. Leonard abruptly stops playing the organ. She stands up, clears her throat, then she switches on her little CD player. She waits for the right place in the music then closes her eyes and opens her mouth. She belts out “Ave Maria” in the clearest, truest voice I’ve ever heard. It’s pitch-perfect.
Little Nyla walks down the aisle throwing red rose petals, head held high. She’s been practicing for this moment and isn’t about to blow it. Next stop, one of those kiddie beauty pageants at the mall.
I watch as my mother floats down the aisle like a vision of Hollywood glamour from a 1940s film. She looks majestic with her head held high on her long, thin neck adorned with a string of her mother’s cultured pearls. A tiny pillbox hat is perched elegantly on her head with netting pulled down over her eyes. My mother looks amazing.
I look at Walter as he watches her saunter down the aisle toward him. He’s crying and
he isn’t even trying to hide it. He dabs at his eyes with the hankie Raine hands to him. Walter looks adorable in his black tuxedo. He’s sixty-four years old and getting married for the first time. He fell in love with a woman who made him want to put an end to his vow of lifelong bachelorhood.
Tears fill my eyes once again. This time fanning won’t work. I pull out the hankie I stashed in my sash, just in case, and carefully dab my eyes.
We watch as my mother and Walter exchange vows. We celebrate the love and joy they feel, hoping it’s contagious.
After family wedding photos, we join our guests in the large tent erected in our backyard. The decorations are beautiful, and my mother looks radiant.
Mom has always said Mimi’s wedding was one of the happiest days of her life. Today is the happiest day of mine. We’ve gotten to know and love Walter over the past six months. Today is merely a formality. He’s already part of our family.
Miles and Raine have become part of our family, too.
I squeeze Raine’s hand as he pulls out my chair to the left of my mother. Then I give him a quick kiss. I’m glad my mother decided to make Raine, Miles and Marcus part of this special day. Each of them makes handsome groomsmen. Mickey and Dusty are adorable ring bearers in their little cream tuxes with tails.
“Little boys in cream tuxes?” Mimi groans. “What was Mommy thinking?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “But they’re adorable right now, aren’t they? I’d better take a few more pictures before they have the gravy.”
Mimi and Jamie laugh. Jamie rubs her belly and repositions herself in her chair. I can’t help but smile. Jamie’s going to be a mother, and she and Miles are engaged. It still seems surreal.
We enjoy a lovely wedding reception and a scrumptious meal. I’m having a great time, but I hate being separated from Raine.
Finally it’s time for the bridal party’s dance. Raine leads me onto the dance floor, and we all dance to “At Last” by Etta James, one of Walter’s favorite songs. I love the feel of Raine’s arms around me as we sway on the dance floor. We even manage to incorporate the occasional spin without toppling anyone over. After the dance, everyone shifts places at the head table, with each of us managing to sit next to our significant other. I look down the table at my family.