Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  God, I hoped they were right. Fighting with Ollie on top of my breakup was unbearable. I hated that they were consoling me. Technically, I’d instigated the fight and said the harsh words. He was guilty, though. He’d talked to Hank behind my back. That offense deserved a major payback and the silent treatment.

  “So what’d he do?” London asked. I explained the entire fight. They both listened and nodded where appropriate, letting me finish my entire side of the story until the food and drinks arrived.

  “Are you ready to talk to Hank?” London asked.

  Just the mention of his name hit my heart like a sledgehammer. Saying I missed him was like saying a person misses a limb when it’s been amputated. Hank was ever there. His presence permeated all the space around me. The wretched tears pooled and I did my best to hold them back.

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I figured he’d have moved on by now.” I shrugged.

  “I spoke with him,” London said softly, and my head whipped back to hers so fiercely I worried I’d given myself a crick. Her eyes were downcast. Jesus! Was everyone talking to my ex besides me? “He told me everything that happened. Of course, it was his version. I really think you ought to give him a listen. Might change the way you feel,” she hedged.

  Tripp’s hand came out and held mine. “Bridge wasn’t trying to hurt you, Pen. He came to the loft unannounced. Begged to talk to London, and I broke down and let him in. She was pretty pissed at me. London nodded frantically and sucked on her straw, biting the thing to oblivion. It was such a disgusting habit of hers, gnawing on straws until they were unable to function properly.

  “Do you want to know what he said?”

  I shrugged, trying to pretend nonchalance, though I was burning to hear anything about my beloved cowboy.

  “He said he loved you. Said what you saw was a mistake.” My eyes darted back to hers. “He also said that the chick was in the past and she needed to stay there. Said he told her as much.”

  “Yeah, well that’s not the way I saw it. Who are you gonna believe?” I gritted through my teeth.

  “Pen, I’m on your side. What the hell!” Her blue eyes were shining so bright it was as if you could see through them. “I’m always on your side. I don’t care who’s right or wrong. I only know what he told me and how miserable you are.” Her tone softened and I knew she meant well. Everyone did.

  “So, you think I should talk to him?” Both she and Tripp nodded. “I wouldn’t even know what to say,” I whispered as I lost the battle with my emotions. Tears scuttled down my cheeks.

  London rushed around the table, plopped herself in my lap, and pulled off my glasses. She held my cheeks in her cool hands and wiped the tears away. I held her by the waist as she searched my brokenhearted gaze. Tears ran down her face. She was never able to see someone she loved in tears. She claimed it was her empathic ability. I believed it was her pure heart.

  “I love you. Tripp loves you. Ollie loves you. Dean loves you. Mom, Dad, Rio all love you. And more than all of those people put together, Hank loves you.”

  The sobs wracked my body and my sister held me as I cried into her chest. I didn’t care that the tables surrounding us were probably watching the train wreck in front of them. Crying, releasing all the ache I had pent up while my sister held me, was cathartic to my bruised soul. After what felt like eternity, I was all cried out. My tears dried, but London still kept me close, humming into my hairline, rocking me lightly.

  “How the hell am I going to get my girl to listen if she won’t talk to me?” I snarled at Mac over a pint.

  He’d finally gotten me out of the apartment and to a sports bar. The Cowboys were playing, but I couldn’t focus on the game. My thoughts were always on a stubborn, beautiful Angel who refused to see or speak to me. I’d sent flowers and cards every day. I’d waited a few different times in the lobby of her building, but she’d somehow escaped me. She was a smart cookie, my girl. At the office she always had throngs of people willing to thwart my attempts to see her.

  “Hmm, I reckon’ you’re going to have to trick her into seein’ ya,” Mac offered, and took a long pull from his beer.

  “What do you have in mind? I’m takin’ any suggestions, because I’m damned near out of ideas.”

  We spent the next couple hours throwing ideas back and forth. Nothin’ stuck, though, until around our fourth beers. We were both feelin’ pretty darn good and the Cowboys were winning the game.

  “Well, the job is almost done, right? You’ve been havin’ some conference calls with the architect.”

  “Yeah, so? If I don’t talk to her, I’m gonna be stuck with no crew and no girl!” the thought of all the changes I’d managed over the past three weeks nearly had me bangin’ my head on the bar top.

  I’d had meetin’ after meetin’ with some pretty rich fellas, all to discuss the expansion of Jensen Construction. It had taken Mac and me a full week to prepare all the materials. We even enlisted the help of Jess back home, who was wicked smart with the technology end of things. She built Power Points and charts that made Jensen Construction look real good. We ordered glossy print materials and gave presentations in the most lux offices I’d seen in all my years bidding on jobs. After five different meetings, we had three separate offers to invest in the expansion of Jensen Construction. And I owed it all to one man: Aspen’s father.

  After the trouble back home with Aspen I contacted Mr. Reynolds himself. I didn’t go into details about what happened, but what I did do was humble myself and put all my cards on the table.

  Aspen’s father was a shrewd business man with a lot of contacts. He said he was surprised I didn’t ask him for money. I’d explained that I didn’t want his handouts, that what I’d wanted was a chance to present my business plan to some folks who were interested in my line of work. He agreed because he felt he owed me for saving his daughter’s life. I assured him the pleasure was all mine, but I still took his handout of prospective investors.

  Between him, Oliver, and Dean’s contacts, I had presented within an inch of my life to five separate companies. Then the unthinkable happened: We were offered more money than I ever thought possible. Apparently, my work was worth more in NYC than I’d ever dreamed.

  We contracted with those three investors, and I was now the proud owner and operator of Jensen Construction, Incorporated, with a division in Texas and a division in the Big Apple.

  I had Oliver to thank for the office space. Beginning next week, my new office was on the twelfth floor of the AIR Bright building. I was certain that Aspen didn’t know about it. He’d gone behind her back and made the property manager give me the two-thousand-foot office space free for ninety days, and then at a rate that I knew was more affordable than warranted for the space.

  My little buddy was still hopping mad at me for what went down with his Princess, as he called her. He knew, though, that all I wanted was to be with her, that everything I was doing was supporting the goal in the long run—Aspen and I and our happily ever after.

  I just hoped to hell I could figure out a way to get her to sit down and talk to me. Not being with her every day was like pouring acid over my open, wounded soul. In all my years it never occurred to me that I’d physically need someone, or that my heart would cease to beat without its mate, but it was true. I needed Aspen like I needed to breathe, needed to eat, needed to sleep. She was my end-all, be-all, and I had to find a way to get her back.

  The hot wings and nachos Mac ordered arrived and he dug in with gusto. I ate a few chips but only tasted sawdust. Nothing seemed right without my girl in my life. Not even food.

  Mac swallowed a gigantic chip with cheese that dripped down his hand. Then he licked it clean.

  “That’s fucking gross, man.” I laughed for the first time in three weeks.

  “This shit is amazing! We don’t have this gooey cheese back home,” he said, his eyes filled with delight.

  “That’s because it’s not really cheese, man. It’s some type of processe
d, plastic cheese goo created by smart-ass scientists who were bored off their asses and thought, ‘Cheese! Let’s make it last forever!’”

  He snorted around his beer and licked each cheese-laden finger. “You know, I don’t even care. It’s too good to care,” he added, and I cringed as I popped in a French fry dipped in ketchup. Mac stopped chewing, swallowed, wiped his mouth, and then looked off into the distance.

  “What’s up, partner?”

  “Well, she won’t see you, right?” I nodded. “But she goes to work every day.” I nodded again. Oliver had confirmed that much after repeated attempts at begging. “Why not tell them you want a meetin’ with the stakeholders. Update em’ on the project and reveal the building personally? She’d have to see you then.”

  Mac had more to him than brute strength and the country lifestyle. The man was a genius. I clapped him on the back. “Well, I’ll be. You keep on surprising me, partner.”

  “Lisa says that shit all the time.” He tipped his Stetson once at the rim then shoveled in another hunk of chips and plastic cheese.

  This idea could actually work. The architect and I were well acquainted now. He bought into Jensen Construction, and even said he’d be promoting my company to his other clients when they had a job. I gathered I could swindle him into coming to a face-to-face meetin’ at the AIR building. Oliver could make sure she had the meetin’ on her calendar. He didn’t have to say that I’d be there.

  The idea was getting better and better with every beer I downed. This was it. The time to get my girl back was now, and I was determined to make it happen. I just had a few loose ends to tighten up on the job and with my plan.

  I dialed Oliver’s number. He answered on the first ring.

  “This better be good, cowboy, because I’m already in all kinds of trouble with our girl over your sorry ass.”

  He sniffed and I could tell something was bothering him. “What do you mean you’re in trouble? What happened?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. I just tried to get her to talk to you and she flipped out, called me a traitor, and told me to fuck off.” He started to laugh.

  “Well, hell, I’m sorry, buddy. Good news is I’ve got a plan to get my girl back where she belongs. I think it’s a good one, too. But I’m going to need some help from you. You in?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The biggest smile split across my face. Two fresh beers landed in front of me. Mac and I grabbed the coldies and clinked the sides. “To gettin’ the girl.” I toasted and drank, my plan swirling, fizzing, and breaking into the perfect way to seal my fate and bring me an Angel.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Week four of being without Hank had me in a better mood. A little pep to my step, but nothing to write home about. After lunch with London last week, I went straight to Oliver and Dean’s house. Dean answered and filleted me for hurting Ollie for trying to help. I apologized to him, then groveled at the feet of my best friend. He enjoyed every second. He may have even taken a photo for proof of my transgression. We’d been inseparable ever since.

  Work was doing better than ever, bringing in more money than I’d thought possible. My stocks were doing well and the building addition was almost complete. The architect had called an evening meeting with the stakeholders and was planning to walk us all through the new building. At least my physical body and mind had moved forward. The blood red thing beating in my chest however wasn’t. I was hollow inside. Keeping pace yet unable to feel anything but longing and misery for what I’d lost.

  Oliver had the meeting scheduled for five. I added a few touches to my barely-there makeup in the bathroom mirror in my office. There was no mistaking the tired woman looking back at me. I did my best to cover the dark circles under my eyes, the gray pallor of my skin. Even my hair looked dull and drab. Maybe it was the florescent lighting. Lying to myself was a new thing I did lately. It helped me avoid the truth. The truth I hadn’t admitted to anyone: I missed Hank so much it hurt.

  Ollie entered the bathroom, picked up the brush, and fussed with my hair. He swept the loose pieces into soft curls and spritzed it a few times. He was a magician, capable of turning something ugly into something presentable.

  “So we’ll meet in the Sky Conference Room after the walkthrough. Alex wants to take us through the new building first. Said it would be the best way to truly enjoy the final product. Then we’ll have a chat about the interior design aspects, then discuss the HR firm we’re going with to hire the employees of the magazine.”

  I nodded. “Sounds great. Looks like everything is in order.”

  Oliver turned me toward him. He cupped the sides of my neck and put his forehead against mine. “You know I love all your pieces right?” he said softly.

  My body stiffened. I tried to pull back to look into his eyes but he held fast. “Ollie, what’s wrong?” I slid my hands into his hairline and tickled his scalp. His breath was heavy against my face. Why was he suddenly so sad?

  “Nothing’s wrong. Just tell me you love me and no matter what happens, you always will.” The alarm bells clanged loudly, almost to deafening proportions.

  “Of course I love you. All your pieces. You know that. Nothing would ever make me stop loving you. Okay?” I tried my best to make him feel secure, but not knowing what was wrong didn’t make it easy.

  “Okay.” He rubbed his forehead against mine and kissed the tip of my nose. He shook his head, seemingly to clear it. “Alrighty, then. Let’s get to gettin!”

  His smile was fake and plastered on his face all too quickly. I wanted to sit him down and find out what was bothering him, but we didn’t have the time. The stakeholders were waiting, Grant among them. Seeing him again after the case against Hank was settled would add salt to my open wound, but it was unavoidable. The bastard had gotten away with a couple hundred grand of my hard-earned dollars and a personal apology from me for “my boyfriend’s” embarrassing outburst at my mother and father’s home. He made me sick. Vile human being.

  Oliver and I walked through the office buildings, only being stopped a few times to ask this or that, get a quick off-the-cuff decision on something as I passed. It was the norm and gave me the extra confidence I needed to deal with the boys’ club. At least Alex Benson, my architect, was leading the tour. I’d seen most of the building already, but only after hours. Didn’t want to accidentally run into Hank.

  Silently I thanked the heavens above that Alex had called the meeting at five. Hank’s crew started their work at six in the morning and typically ended their day no later than four. I’d made sure of it before sneaking onto the premises to check the progress. Seeing something Hank worked on each and every day made me feel closer to him somehow. Everything was always in order, too. Hank ran a tight ship, and his work spoke volumes to ethics. If only his personal ethics were as authentic.

  We met the six stakeholders in the lobby of AIR Bright Enterprises along with the architect. Oliver chose a red power suit for me with leather trim down the lapels and down the side of the pant. Tuxedo-style, he called it. I wore a crisp white shirt with a high, perfectly starched collar. Black sky-high stilettos complimented the look giving me the extra height I needed to look most of the men directly in the eye.

  Grant tried to hug me, putting his hand on my bicep and pulling me toward him. In an awkward move, I shimmied away and presented my hand for a cordial, business-like shake. His eyes widened for a moment, and then he slipped into his cool and professional demeanor like an old suit. He was comfortable in his bored, overly professional persona, and hell if it didn’t fit him perfectly.

  Watching him now interact with the other men made me realize how completely blinded I’d been by him. He was a smooth talker, had a nice build, but he was also dreary, overly snobbish, and gave a new meaning to the self-righteousness of upper-classman. A gentleman he was not, though he’d like to think he was. I knew better; one day he’d get his for the embarrassment he caused me during our relationship and again with th
e Hank debacle.

  Alex led the group through the breezeway to the new section of AIR Bright. We entered into a wide open space with a pristine granite reception built-in that spanned a good fifteen-foot radius. On each side of the reception desk were frosted glass double doors with the new logo imprinted in the see-through cut outs, prominently displaying “Bright Magazine.” The etching of the sun coming from behind the upper half of the logo was captivating. Drop lights hung down in varying locations throughout the open space.

  “Under each light the designer has chosen special seating areas for guests of the magazine.” His hand swept the air in a flourish over the open floor plan. It was pretty easy to imagine, and so far the stakeholders seemed to like what they were seeing.

  Alex continued the tour through the doors and into a long hallway with individual offices dotting each side. At the end of the hall it opened to another large space with cubicles surrounding each wall. “In the middle of the room there will be an extra-large conference table complete with Wi-Fi, a drop-down graphics screen, all of the latest technology built-in,” he continued.

  I added to Alex’s description of the space: “I’d suggested the open plan so that the staff could meet together right in the heart of the magazine. They could share the up-and-coming trends, columns, the pieces they’re working on all within earshot of the rest of the staff. This will promote working together, a team environment. It gives all the staff a sense of belonging and that there are no secrets. Gossip should be minimized with this plan, allowing for staff to focus on what’s important … Bright Magazine!” The concept was a New Age approach; I truly believed it would return excellent results.

  We continued through the space where Alex had added indoor-outdoor breezeways that connected different departments. “I wanted to give a person walking through the feeling of being inside a catacomb of light and air. Greenery will be added everywhere, and the space will be naturally warm with organic light brought in from the sun. The canisters you see throughout will only go on if the sun is not providing enough natural light.”