The Ring

by Florence Osmund

  Jessivel pushed Kayla’s concerns aside for the moment to focus on herself. Cassandra had given her two contact names for job leads. She called the job-placement agency first and made an appointment to fill out an application. Then she called Renaldo Vargas at Goodwill Industries and did the same thing. Both indicated that while barista openings were rare, they did come up periodically. When asked if she would consider another type of job, one that required few skills and experience, she responded in the negative, as she feared that could mean becoming her mother and cleaning toilets for a living.

  Disheartened and depressed, Jessivel gave serious consideration to her situation and whether she would find it better elsewhere—some other city, state, or even country—away from her nagging mother, snobby coffee drinkers, pain-in-the-ass Paige, and the constant reminder that her father wasn’t around to care for her anymore. She pictured herself driving on a wide-open road with Chicago disappearing in her rearview mirror, the breeze from an open window blowing the past out of her hair.

  The confrontation with Kayla weighed heavily on her mind. “You do it, if you think it’s so easy,” she’d said. Maybe she had something there. Maybe being around some fun people for a while, having a few drinks, would get her mind off things, at least for a bit. It wouldn’t have to be for long. It couldn’t be for long—she was not a big consumer of alcohol ever since she had gotten completely wasted once as a teenager, passed out for hours, and awoken covered in vomit in unfamiliar surroundings. This experience had scared the bejesus out of her, and she hadn’t overindulged since then.

  As long as she drank responsibly, getting out and socializing with people her own age sounded like a good plan, better by the minute.

  She waited until Kayla went to bed before trying on the one outfit she owned that was suitable for a club—a black pantsuit with a lacy pink camisole. She dabbed on a little makeup to finish off the look.

  In case Kayla awoke while she was gone, she scribbled a note to her saying she’d be back shortly, then headed for Doubleday’s, a neighborhood bar she had passed numerous times and thought looked decent from the outside.

  Jessivel was not an experienced club-goer, and when she walked into the lounge at Doubleday’s, she was petrified. Without making eye contact with anyone, she made a mad dash for the bathroom and slipped into a stall.

  “I can do this,” she whispered and then froze when she heard the bathroom door open. As she stood there—facing the toilet, listening to the person in the next stall pee—she recalled the Nike slogan “Just do it.”

  “What are you doing over there?” the voice in the next stall yelped at her. “If you’re some male weirdo, you need to use the other bathroom.”

  Jessivel realized what it must look like from the other side with her standing facing the toilet for so long. “I’m a girl, you idiot!” She turned around, pulled down her panties, and squatted, but as hard as she pushed, nothing came out. She waited for the sound of the door closing before leaving the stall and the rest room.

  The lounge seemed more crowded than when she had arrived. She scanned the patrons, most of whom appeared younger than she. She had twelve dollars in her purse—the maximum amount she could spend for the evening. She inched toward the bar with the intention of ordering a gin and tonic when she sensed someone’s stare from her left. She glanced over to find a tall, thin man with dark greased-back hair ogling her. His devilish smile sent her off to the other end of the bar where she focused on getting the bartender’s attention.

  The bar was crowded. She squeezed in between two people seated there to avoid coming face-to-face with creepy guy again. Right after she ordered her drink, she felt someone pressing up against her backside. She waited—frozen in position and afraid to turn around—for the bartender to hand her the drink.

  “It’s been taken care of,” the bartender told her.

  “By whom?”

  He nodded toward a place behind her. She turned to see creepy guy’s grin.

  “I don’t want it,” she said and bolted from the bar without looking back.

  Jessivel walked as fast as she could toward the door when she found herself on the dance floor. A tall, good-looking man about her age grabbed her by the arm and swung her around.

  “Care to dance?” he asked her.

  Jessivel contemplated running in the opposite direction, but the man’s playful grin drew her in.

  “I’m Andrew,” the man shouted while dancing in front of her. “And you are?”

  “Jessivel,” she said as she blended in with his dance moves.

  “Nice to meet you, Jessivel.”

  They danced until the end of the song when another man came up to them.

  “Can I have the next one?” he asked.

  Before she could answer, she was dancing with man number 2. Then number 3.

  By the time Jessivel stepped out with number 7, she was attempting to do the Floss with a drink in each hand. She searched for a place to set the drinks down and take a break when creepy guy walked toward her. Her “buzz off” glare didn’t stop him from approaching her.

  “Looks like you need a breather, honey.”

  Jessivel ignored his comment and continued to try to find somewhere to sit.

  Creepy guy took her arm and tried to guide her off the dance floor.

  She jerked her arm away from the man, spilling her drink on the woman next to her.

  “What the—” the woman yelled.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessivel said as she dropped the now-empty glass and headed toward the door.

  A man snatched Jessivel’s arm. “You apologize to my girl, ya hear?”

  “You’re hurting me,” Jessivel said as she tried to pull away from him. “And I did apologize, you fool.” She threw the drink she still had in her other hand into the man’s face.

  A large, heavily-tattooed man with a bulldog look about him took the empty glass from Jessivel’s hand and escorted her to the door. “You’re through here, girl” he said as he hustled her out the door.

  The man’s shove caused Jessivel to stumble, and in her attempt to keep from falling, she turned an ankle. She limped to her car as the pain shot through her foot and leg, got in, and locked the door. Feeling a little tipsy, and her ankle now pounding with pain, she slithered down into the seat and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 33

  Paige surveyed the clothes racks in her sizeable walk-in closet before choosing the right outfit for her dinner with Leland—one that was flattering but conservative. She drove to Nick’s, curious and nervous about the meeting.

  She had met Leland in college and dated him once. He never called for a second date, and she soon forgot about him. A year later, both attended the same Bears game at Soldier Field, and when Leland saw Paige’s face on the jumbotron, he spent the rest of the game searching for her in the stands. This time, for some reason, they made an immediate connection and married a year later.

  Paige liked taking her clients to Nick’s where the food was good but not overly expensive, the atmosphere relaxing, and the lighting not so dim that you needed a flashlight to read the menu. Perfect for her and Leland.

  She found him waiting for her in the lobby when she arrived. He wore a blue blazer over a paler blue dress shirt and a pair of khakis—a handsome look on him. His broad, sweet grin brought back memories. He went in for a kiss. She turned her head, causing his lips to land on her cheek.

  He took a step back. “You look great, champ.” She had always hated it when he’d called her this, assuming he was ridiculing her “achieving” personality. “I see you’re still wearing those turtlenecks.”

  She ignored both remarks. He looked good, even though he had put on a few pounds and a bit of grey now peppered his temples. He still had those soft lines around his piercing blue eyes that deepened when he laughed or smiled—the ones that looked sexy on a man but could age a woman ten years.

  “Shall we go in?” she asked.

  They slid into a booth. It seemed surr
eal sitting across from him after so much time had lapsed—a stranger, yet quite familiar to her. The way her body reacted to his presence made her self-conscious.

  Paige didn’t waste any time getting to the business at hand once they perused the menu and ordered.

  “So, tell me what else my father told you about his life beyond my family.”

  “I’m fine, and you?”

  Paige inhaled a large breath of air and let it out slowly as she collected her words. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m anxious to hear what you have to say about him. There’s a lot at stake here. How have you been?”

  “I’ve been fine.”

  “That’s good. How’s your family?”

  “We’re all good. Including Sadie.”

  “Sadie?” Paige knew from a mutual friend that Leland had remarried to a woman named Arlene. She was not aware that they had had kids together and was surprised to hear this.

  He took out a photo from his wallet.

  “Oh, how cute!” Yorkies had always been her favorite breed, but Leland had been against getting a dog when they were married. “What made you change your mind about a dog?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the timing was right.”

  “How long have you had her?”

  “Just got her.”

  Paige didn’t understand his “timing” remark but decided not to pursue it.

  “Okay. Anything else new with you?” She smiled. “Except for your haircut, that is.” Leland had always worn his hair a little longer than Paige would have liked, his way of exhibiting non-conformity in his “corporate accounting” world at work.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Actually, I do. You just didn’t wear it that way before.”

  “Speaking of then, I ran into Ron Bowman the other day. He bought our old house.”

  “No kidding.” Ron had been Leland’s best man at their wedding. “What a coincidence.”

  “So I went there to see him and his new wife, who’s expecting by the way.” His words drifted off, and so did his gaze. When he focused back on Paige, he said, “We made some good memories in that house.”

  She nodded. While it was true, she didn’t want to unduly acknowledge it to him or herself. Not now. And some sad memories had also been created in that house. Seeing Leland today reminded her how much Briana had looked like him. She suddenly recalled her pale, lifeless face with utter clarity, how she looked while she held her for her last breath in the hospital room, stroking her tufts of blond hair in her final minutes. Thinking about her brought sadness that she was gone but also the sweet, wonderful feeling of her presence. She searched her heart for something to block out the memories and keep the tears from coming.

  “I think I know what you’re thinking, Paige. I miss her too.”

  She tried not to lose herself in the tenderness of his eyes and was grateful for their food arriving.

  “I heard you got married,” she said once the waiter had left.

  “I did…but it was never much of a marriage. We divorced last year.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You never remarried, right?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I seem to do better on my own, I guess.” The words had come out way too fast and sounded insidious, even to her.

  “I always thought it had something to do with Briana.”

  “That too.”

  “Why is that, do you think?”

  “Why is what?”

  “Why you seem to do better on your own.”

  Paige had no intention of explaining her wanting to be a member of the “single by choice” club to Leland, especially when she didn’t fully understand it herself. Years after her divorce, she had tried being in other relationships, but whenever it got close to serious, she would push the man away, likening being in a new relationship to leaping off a second-story building and hoping someone would be down there to catch her.

  “I don’t know. I’m just happier being alone, I guess.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Nothing against you. It would have happened no matter who I was married to.”

  “You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

  “Is that what this meeting is about? Making you feel special?” More regrettable words.

  “I didn’t know it was a meeting. I thought we were having dinner together.”

  “Are you going to tell me more about what you know about my father?”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Yes, I am happy,” she said, her patience close to running out.

  “Define happiness.”

  Paige leaned forward. “Look, Leland. This has gone on long enough. We were married for ten years. It ended…twelve years ago. Now we’re just two people who haven’t seen each other in a long time. You’re asking inappropriate questions.”

  “Eleven years, ten months.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Excuse me for caring.”

  “I never remarried, Lee. I never intend to remarry. I never intend to be in another relationship for that matter. I moved on…to being single. I’m wedded to real estate. That’s what I love. That’s what makes me happy.”

  “Really?”

  “I thought you had moved on too. And if you aren’t going to share with me what you know about my father, we can end this get-together, or whatever you want to call it. Are we clear?”

  “I see you’re still that independent woman I knew. Taken any vacations lately?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I didn’t think so.” He glared at her before continuing. “You’re so self-sufficient that you don’t need anyone in your life. And you sure as hell don’t need me.”

  She had watched a host of emotions play across Leland’s face as he spoke, until his expression culminated into none at all. He got up from his chair, raked his fingers through his thick ash-blond hair, and said, “You might want to check out the teddy bear…hon.”

  “What teddy bear?”

  “The one she sent him from India,” he said before walking away.

  She watched him leave until he was no longer visible.

  I am happy. I love what I do, and I’m good at it. Of course, he didn’t give me any credit for that. Never did before either. Some things never change.

  What teddy bear?

  Leland clearly had more than one thing on his mind for their reunion, one of which she foolishly hadn’t prepared for well enough. Had it been a business meeting, she would have had a better plan in play to achieve her goal—it was considerably easier for her to master the art of real estate negotiations than those involving affairs of the heart.

  He could have at least picked up the check, she thought as she nibbled on the last of her coconut fried shrimp.

  If what Leland had told her was true, Tim and Hank were not to be trusted, and she had to decide what to do about them. If she ignored them, she could miss out on getting closer to the truth about the real Tamir Noor. However, if she played along with them to learn more about the truth, it could mean trouble.

  Before she decided which way to go, she wanted to do a thorough search of her mother’s house for a teddy bear, thinking that Leland wouldn’t have brought it up if it didn’t have something to do with her father. She decided to bring Natalie in on it—pretty much had to because Natalie was living there and didn’t leave the house long enough for Paige to pull it off by herself.

  She approached Natalie the next day and told her what Leland had said about the teddy bear.

  “You mean my teddy bear?” Natalie asked.

  “No. I told you—one that this Indian woman sent to Dad.”

  “I know what you said. Don’t you remember the whole teddy bear incident with me and Dad?”

  “No,” Paige said, wondering where her often-confused sister was going with this.

  “I had this teddy bear—dark brown with blue-and-white-striped pants. And
it had blue glass eyes. I found it in Mom and Dad’s closet one day and started to play with it. After a while, I figured finders keepers and kept it in my room.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “I kept it hidden. At least some thing that wasn’t yours first. Know what I mean?”

  “Go on.”

  “Anyway, one day Dad caught me playing with it and took it away from me. I never saw it again.”

  If it hadn’t been for Natalie’s detailed description of the teddy bear, Paige wouldn’t have believed a word she’d said.

  “So, let’s go look for it. We know it didn’t go to his grave with him, so it’s got to be here somewhere.”

  For the next two hours, they searched every room, closet, drawer, and shelf to no avail.

  “I wish we hadn’t looked in her drawers,” Natalie said.

  “I know. Like we were invading her privacy.”

  “And I didn’t have to see she had a dil—”

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Moms aren’t supposed to have those things.”

  “Eeww.”

  The conversation flowed easily—they talked about old times, fun times, and laughed until their sides hurt—something they hadn’t done in ages.

  “Maybe he kept it in his office at work,” Natalie said.

  “Someone brought over all his office stuff, so I don’t think so.”

  “If Mom found it, she may have thrown it out.”

  “Good point. I’ll ask her today when I go see her. You haven’t seen her since you’ve been here. Do you want to go with me?”

  Natalie didn’t respond.

  “Yes? No?”

  “I’ll take a pass.”

  “The two of you never talked about you staying here, did you?”

  Natalie stared past Paige for a few seconds before mumbling a response. “Not really.”

  “Well, she didn’t say much when I told her I found you here. Do you want me to say anything about you when I see her today?”

  “Would you?”

  “Sure. What do you want me to say?”

  “Just make sure it’s okay if I stay here for a while.”

  “Anything going on that we should know about?”