by C. E. Hansen
Grace Elena,
We haven’t heard from you in days. We’re just checking in. We miss you. Love, Mom.
I loved when my mother included my stepfather into her conversations with me, like she conveniently forgot I disliked him immensely. I shook my head and typed back a quick response.
I’m fine, hope you are too. We’ll have lunch later this week. Miss you too. Me
I opened the email from Michelle next. Michelle was my best friend since first grade. She and I have been attached at the hip ever since. Michelle is the cool, calm and collected one and I am more the fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl. She keeps me in check. A job I would never want. She is staying with me while her apartment is being painted.
Grace,
Plug your cell into the charger; after you find it of course, it’s dead.
Call me.
Clear your voice mails. You have no room on your phone for my new voice mails until you clear all the old voicemails you never listened to.
CALL ME!
I shook my head and lifted the cordless off the base then dialed Michelle as I plugged my cell into the charger.
“Hey.”
“Plug your phone in?”
“Yup. What’s up?”
“You up for this? Are you sure you want to do this alone? I’ll sit at the bar. Jonathan can be really intense when it comes to you.”
“I need to get this over with. I’m at the point where I don’t even care that he had sex with some other chick. I just want out of this relationship, if you can even call it that. He fucked her but ignored every signal I threw him? And still he’s always watching me, stalking me, always lurking. It’s weird. Besides I think he would be even angrier if he saw you there. Especially with you obviously knowing what I was about to do. ”
“Okay, I’m going to the gym and bringing in Chinese. Keep your phone with you in case you need me. MAKE SURE IT’S CHARGED!”
“I will, I will. I’ll call you if I need you to come and rescue me.” Laughing out loud, I assured her, “I’m going to try to get this over with as soon as I can. Hopefully he won’t cause a scene. We’re meeting at DiMaios. I figure if it is a public place, he will act like a gentleman. Well, as much as he is capable of.” That got a loud chuckle out of Michelle. Jonathan was many things, a gentleman not one of them. “I have to tell you, Michelle, my nerves are shot. I’ll see you at home.”
“Be careful. Love you,” she said sounding anxious.
“Love you too.”
I hung up. Signed off on a couple of invoices. After writing a few checks, I shut down my computer and grabbed my coat. I put my cell in my bag, 20% charged. Shit, It’ll have to do.
As Karen was walking in, I was rushing out.
“Call me if you have any issues,” I said over my shoulder. “I will probably go straight home, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Be gentle with him,” she called after me, smiling.
Yeah, my thought exactly…
Chapter 2
I stepped outside and was immediately assailed by a cold breeze. I hailed a cab and getting into the back seat told the driver DiMaios on 2 Avenue. I was surprised my stomach hurt so much; must be tension. Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of DiMaios. I immediately saw Jonathan standing at the bar through the wall of glass, surrounded by women, as usual. He watched as I walked in and shrugged off my coat, then picked up his drink and crossed to where I stood.
“Hello, beautiful. Here, give me your coat.” He even made that sound distastefully fake. He grabbed my coat from my arm and hung it on the coat rack. I slung my pocketbook over my shoulder and followed the greeter to our table.
I’m not one to mince words, but Jonathan is an overly intense man. He’s extraordinarily handsome and uses his fame and good looks to get him what he wants and thinks he needs. I admit I was attracted to his looks, as was every woman who saw him, but he was sweet when I first met him. That sweetness faded. I caught him in flagrante with another model. My pride took a hit, but we were never really close, so outwardly I had to let it slide. Inwardly I couldn’t avoid the rejection he dealt me. What did this chick have that I didn’t?
Having eye candy at the ready to escort me out to dinner and clubs was nice. However, of late, he was smothering me, his way of trying to make up for his indiscretion, and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and just plain tired of his shit.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about? Sounded urgent.”
I looked up to see our waiter walking over.
“Hello folks, what can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a Martini, dry, olives, stirred please,” I answered.
He looked at Jonathan and waited for his order.
“I’ll have another one of these.” Jonathan held up his glass, the ice clinking as he shook it. “And can you bring two menus, I’m hungry.”
“A gin and tonic. Yes sir. I’ll be back with your drinks and the menus in a minute.” He walked away and as soon as he was out of hearing range, I took a deep breath and gathered my courage.
“Yeah...listen…Jonathan, this is not easy for me to say, but I feel this relationship isn’t going in the direction I hoped. I don’t know what you want anymore.” I paused. “I think it would be better if we broke this off, for both of us.”
There, I got it out. I looked up to see him staring at me…intensely. His blue eyes turned cold and dark with his building anger. It was always easy to tell when he was angry, his face reddened and his eyes darkened. Not pleasant look at all, but he still managed to look perfectly handsome even then.
“If this is about that girl, she really didn’t mean a thing, it was just sex, we fucked, that’s all. It’s not like we were solid…you, me, we were off and on and...”
I raised my hand, stopping him midsentence.
“No, it has nothing to do with you and your fucking whore. This may sound like a cliché, but I just don’t have feelings for you. I need a break. I want to be on my own.”
He continued to stare at me. A look of disbelief crossed his face followed by a look I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him before. I think it was hatred. It flashed quickly across his features then disappeared.
The waiter walked to the table with our drinks and placed them down as well as two menus. Jonathan leaned back in his chair, seething. The chair moaned with the force of his muscular weight.
“Give us a minute,” he spat out. The waiter quickly turned and walked away. He couldn’t walk fast enough to get away from us.
Jonathan slowly leaned in toward me. The heat of his breath brushed my face, tinged with the smell of alcohol.
“The fucking Princess…” he paused, “you fucking cunt. You think you’re fucking perfect. Everyone has to jump for you. You can’t let shit go. She meant nothing. But you can’t fucking let it go.” The venom in his voice caused goose bumps to rise on my arms and neck.
My fight or flight response kicked in, fight being the dominant of the two.
“You are an arrogant jackass. I couldn’t care less about the fucking whore you slept with. I want nothing to do with you. You! Is that so hard for you to believe? I’m not some stupid slut vying for your fucking attention.” I lifted my drink up tossed it back, draining the contents. I slammed my glass down on the table, stood up and looked right at him—directly into those cold, evil-looking eyes. “Stay the fuck away from me. I was trying to be civil with you but you are a fucking psycho.”
I pulled my pocketbook off the back of my chair with such force the chair fell over. Reaching in I grabbed a fifty-dollar bill out and tossed it on the table, then quickly walked away, stopping only to grab my coat, slipping it on as I walked out the door. I took a deep breath, letting the cold crisp air clear my head and releasing the tension that had been building up inside me.
Wanting to put space between me and psycho-boy, I walked to the curb and hailed a cab. One pulled over immediately and I climbed into the back, giving the cabbie my address.
As we pulled away, I looked back at the restaurant to see Jonathan with his back leaning against the bar. Even behind the glass I was able to see the hatred on his face. A chill ran up my spine.
Crazy son-of-a-bitch.
As I arrived in front of my apartment building, Tony, my doorman, opened the taxi door and assisted me out.
“Hello, Tony.”
“Miss Preston.” He tipped his hat. “Any packages today?”
“No, had no time to shop today.” I managed a weak smile.
As Tony opened the building door for me I turned to him. “Tony, Mr. Kaplan is no longer on my guest list. Please remove his name right away, and let Joe know as well. Thank you.”
“Yes, Miss Preston. Is everything okay?”
“I guess you can say I had enough.”
He looked at me and an understanding look flashed across his face. It was no secret Tony did not like Jonathan. Jonathan was a rude man.
“Miss Preston.” He tapped his hat.
“Thank you, Tony. You rock.”
I caught his smile as I turned and walked to the elevator bank. When the elevator arrived, I pushed the PH button and entered my code. As the elevator whisked me up to the top floor, I shook off my meeting with Jonathan, surprised my hands were still shaking. The doors opened and I stepped out into the hallway. There were two Penthouse apartments, one mine and one Michelle’s. The top floor had been so huge when I bought the original space that I had the floor plan rearranged to configure the tremendous space into two large apartments. I took one and literally forced Michelle into the other.
The painters had Michelle’s apartment door opened and I looked in to gauge their progress. The smell of fresh paint wafted toward me, causing my nose to wrinkle with dislike. The new color looked great though.
“Hey, how much longer will I have my roommate?” I asked the bald portly man in white paint-spattered overalls.
“Should be finishing up shortly, miss. Will be done tomorrow afternoon.”
“Cool.”
I turned, stepping out of Michelle’s apartment, and walked down the hall to my door. I entered my alarm code, unlocked the door and stepped inside. I was unhappy the smell of paint followed me in.
I threw my coat and pocketbook on the bench by the front door and walked into the kitchen to wash my hands. Opening the fridge, I grabbed the bottle of champagne I opened last night. I reached into the cabinet and took down a flute then poured myself a glass. I downed it as quickly as I could, reveling in the tiny bubbles rushing down my throat. I poured another glass. The tension ebbed and I finally began to relax. I put the bottle back into the fridge and grabbed my pocketbook on the way to my bedroom.
I took my cell out and plugged it into the charger on my bedside table, quite proud I even remembered to charge it at all.
Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at the face reflected back at me. I looked tired. My blue eyes, too large for my face, stared blankly at me. I reached up and pulled out the clips holding my hair up. Golden waves immediately cascaded over my shoulders and back. I dragged my fingers through it, feeling the mass of knots clustered throughout. I grabbed the brush from the dresser and pulled it though my hair, tugging at the knots.
I looked down and stared at my body reflected in the mirror. I was for the most part happy with what I saw. My only complaint was that my breasts were too big. I liked that I was tall. I liked my long legs and narrow hips. However, being the fashion nut and total clothes junkie I was, finding clothing that looked good on me was definitely not easy, and high fashion didn’t look good on women with big breasts. High fashion was created for the flat chested, I thought with a sigh.
I put the brush down, pulled my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head and made my way to the shower. Suddenly I felt a need to wash after meeting with Jonathan. Relief flooded over me as the soap and water washed me clean. After I got out and dried off, I unplugged my cell and dialed Michelle.
“Hey, where are you?” I asked. It was noisy. Bar noisy.
“I’m in Luke’s.” She answered. She asked me to hold on while she went outside where she could hear me better. “I got a call from Jeff and decided not to go to the gym. Big mistake. Ended up having a huge fight. What about you? How’d it go? You okay?”
“I’m glad it’s over. I’ll tell you about it when I see you,” I replied. “What’s up Jeff’s ass?”
“I believe he is menstruating,” she countered.
“Funny. Want company? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Hell yeah, I’ll order you a glass of wine and you can fill me in.”
“Okay, give me a few minutes. I’ve got to get dressed.”
I hung up and threw on my favorite pair of Diesel jeans, a white V-necked tee and my Dolce and Gabbana leather jacket. I grabbed my Frye riding boots from the closet and pulled them on, struggling to get my heels in place. I picked up my Prada bag and threw my wallet and cell inside it. I rushed into to the bathroom and reapplied my makeup, shoving the cosmetic case into the bag as well, never one to go out with the tools for a quick touch-up. I called down to Tony and asked him to get me a cab. The cab was waiting for me when I exited the building a few minutes later.
“Thanks, Tony.” I climbed into the back seat of the cab.
“My pleasure, Miss Preston.”
I waved my hand as we pulled away.
I walked into Luke’s less than ten minutes later to find Michelle sitting alone at a table for two by the front door.
“Hey, smexy, is this seat taken?” I asked using a word she hated.
Michelle looked up and smirked. “You would be about what I’d be able to get.” Michelle was a petite, pretty brunette with soft hazel eyes. She was a tough cookie, never minced words, and she loved me like a sister, no, more than a sister, and I loved her right back.
“Hey, not nice...Bitch...What, was this the last table?” I said jokingly, looking around. I pulled out the chair and sat down, hooking my bag over the back of the chair. A glass of Pinot Noir sat in front of me. I lifted the glass to my mouth and took a long sip.
“That bad, huh?” she asked.
“Hell yeah.” I picked the glass back up and took another sip.
Michelle rolled her eyes knowingly. She had that “here she goes again” look. I told her the short version about what transpired between me and Jonathan and she cursed in all the right places.
“That piece of shit.” She pointed her finger in my face, before taking a sip of her wine, “He is nowhere near deserving of you. He’s lucky you stayed with him at all after he pulled that shit with that whore.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I shook my head. “Tell me what happened with Jeff.”
Oh, boy, was I going to regret asking that.
Chapter 3
Cole Grayson left the meeting with the 412 Group, his nickname for Kinckerbocker Properties, Inc., the people who currently owned 412 2 Avenue—the property he was hot to acquire—feeling totally used. The group was pitting bidders against each other. Something he did himself, but when on the other side of the deal, it was extremely unpleasant.
He had been hoping to charm the group with both his name and, most importantly, his money. He was up against high-powered, well-financed bidders. Cole knew his competition. He previously had business dealings with three of the five.
Commercial real estate was a competitive business to begin with, and New York City real estate was an anomaly all its own. His lawyers advised he let this one go. “There are other buildings in Manhattan.” But Cole wanted this one. He sent his attorneys away on his private jet back to Denver directly after the meeting. He had set up two meetings on Monday and planned to do his due diligence, as well as research his competition.
He went back to the Asbury Hotel, where he kept an apartment for his frequent visits to New York City, his mood extremely volatile. He walked into his office, not prepared to see the overly large picture poised on his desk of him standing next to La
uren. His hand was possessively on her lower back and she faced him, her eyes glistening, staring into his. All fake; she was a fraud, a manipulator, but he didn’t know it then as he stood posing next to her for the photographer at their engagement party, prelude to a marriage he never wanted. Thank God I found out what she was before I committed; that would have been an unholy mess for sure.
Cole shook his head. Lauren was an absolutely beautiful woman, but the saying about a sheep in wolf’s clothing wasn’t the description of her. Lauren was a snake, slithering along the floor ever ready to bite and mortally wound everyone…anyone who disagreed with her. An exquisite beauty, blade in hand, always ready to plunge it straight into his back. Cole lowered the large photo, frame and all, into the garbage next to his desk. His way of exorcising his demons, or in this case demon. He turned the monitors in his office on and quickly caught up with the financial news, his stocks strong.
He paced the living room, too restless to settle in and watch a movie. He needed to get out of the apartment. He wasn’t in the mood for the club scene; the loud music and overzealous women would be more than an annoyance. Maybe another time, but not tonight. He wasn’t hungry, which left one option: a bar. Which one was the big question.
He had been to a decent bar across from Central Park once or twice before. It was quieter than a club, but still upbeat. A place he could sit back, have a drink, and forget his extraordinarily disappointing day. He went into the bedroom and after getting underdressed hung his suit in the closet, and threw his shirt in the laundry chute.
He pushed a few buttons, which turned the water on in the shower, and stepped in letting the hot water wash the day’s tension away. After getting out, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the dressing room.
He pulled out his jeans and denim shirt and got dressed. He chose his custom-made leather boots, liking the way they looked with his Loro Piano leather jacket. After looking briefly at his reflection in the full length mirror, pleased with the results, he took the elevator down to the lobby and walked to the reception desk requesting a car for the night. He didn’t want to take a taxi, but was obviously not driving his car, not after the day he had. bourbon was most definitely his medicine of choice.