Less Than Perfect Circumstance

by Kristofer Clarke

  “Because I don’t want to believe I was so blind. What Kelvin and I had ended that day the U-haul truck pulled off, only love wouldn’t allow me to accept that.”

  “When did you find the letter?

  “While I was helping him pack. I’m thinking maybe he had forgotten about it. So, I came home that evening, sat on the bed and read from beginning to end.”

  “You know what, son. You’re a lot stronger than you think.” Robert walked closer to me. “You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you, Rene.”

  “I love you, too,” I said, and managed a smile.

  After my bath, I made my way to the bedroom in all my nakedness. I sat in the dark, in a chair, and allowed my tears to subside. After a few moments, I stretched out across the bed and attempted to fall asleep. You have to let him go. Whatever power he has over you, you have to get it back, I thought before sleep came. I repeated the phrase over and over in my head.

  When I woke the next morning, I was a little tired. Sleep didn’t go too well. Whether I slept well enough to dream, I couldn’t say. If I did dream, I couldn’t remember what I dreamed about.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  DON’T REACH OUT TO ME FOR ANYTHING

  Trevor

  Without warning, the day went from sunny and bright, to dark and threatening. There was a chill in the air, although not as cold as they day before. It was an unusual late summer evening. The televisiondownstairs in the living room, hanging from the brick wall above the fireplace, echoed only in a whisper. I hated the silence in the house. It was an unusual silence, eerie, but there was something very calming about it. It bothered methatI hadn’t spoken with in Kelvin weeks. It bothered me even more that I hadn’t heard from Jackson, either. I had convinced myself that what was happening was the best for all of us. I was tempted several times to call Jackson just to let him know I missed him and had been thinking about him, but I had decided against doing so. What was stopping Jackson from calling me and telling me the same?

  Whatever doors were still open with Kelvin, I had to close them before letting anyone else in. Ihad decided I wasn’t going to accept Kelvin’s phone calls. I didn’t want to fall in the same trap of talking to him and having to relive everything again. I still loved Kelvin, but things were different. Tonight I wasn’t thinking about him. I wasn’t wondering what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. I was in another place.

  I was out having a great time with Wesley. Since we had been so busy with clients, meetings, the occasional dinners were rare. We haven’t had an evening where we just sat back and enjoyed just being. Everything I had done to secure the contract with the Millingtons had taken a lot out of me, which was also compounded with my dealings with Kelvin, and now Jackson.

  Ace of Spades wasn’t as crowded as it was when my father and I last visited. We had the usual two-for-one drinks special. I was hoping to run into Sidney, but, apparently, she had the evening off. Collin was working frantically behind the bar, mixing drinks and filling orders as quickly as they came. Wesley and I took the first two empty stools we found.

  “What can I get you gentlemen?” Collin asked.

  “A Long Island, please.”

  This had become my drink of choice, thanks to Wesley.

  “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

  Wesley was sophisticated;a man of good taste. He drank as if he had been born with fins. He had good taste in cars, his dress, and in the women, too. He could have his way with them, but taking advantage of women wasn’t his style. They knew where they stood on his list of priorities: himself, his family, and his business, that was the order. Friends and women were somewhere on that list, he just wasn’t quite sure how far at the bottom or close to the top they were.

  Wesley didn’t apologize for not wanting to settle down. He would when the right woman came along. He had been seen in the company of some beautiful, well educated, equally, if not more, sophisticated women, but he always found something he disliked about them. His parents were divorced just before he started high school, and he never really got over it. Like most kids with divorced parents, Wesley blamed himself. He never wanted to have a failed marriage like his parents, so before he got too attached to a woman, he would find some fault that, seemingly, couldn’t be fixed.

  “So, tell me, man, how was dinner with the Millingtons?”

  “It was pretty good. They are pretty decent people.”

  “So, give up the details,” he asked, as if expecting some tell-all about a date I had been on.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  I spent the first five minutes admiring the artwork that adorned the walls at Le Bernardin’s.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Millington, Mrs. Millington, your guest has arrived,” Diaz, the Maitre d spoke with a Brazilian accent. “Terris, your waiter, will return shortly with your wine.”

  “Thank you, Diaz.”

  “You are welcome, sir.”

  I glanced at my watch. I liked being on time and could have gotten there much earlier had it not been for the long line of limos, Jags, and 745’s that kept the valets busy.

  “Thank you for the invite, sir.”

  “Please, not sir. It’s Curtis. You don’t have to be so formal.”

  “You remember my wife, Nadia.”

  I turned to meet already extended hand anticipating meeting my lips.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Nadia.”

  Mrs. Nadia Ana Hunter-Millington was a beautiful woman with high cheeks that ballooned when she laughed. Her features were highlighted by earth-toned makeup that looked as if it had been applied with soft brushstrokes by an artist who was no stranger at creating masterpieces. She was, indeed, a work of art. At thirty-five years old, Curtis was fourteen years her senior. She was a tall woman with more legs than torso, and calves Naomi Campbell would die for. She wore a soft print dress with a plunging neckline and a v-shaped neckpiece that directed your eyes towards her full bosom. Born from a Chinese mother and an African American father, Nadia was a beautiful, strong, business savvy woman, and Curtis treated her as such. She was his better half, his partner, and doing business without her final stamp of

  approval wasn’t something Curtis did.

  “This is Charney Copeland.”

  At 6’4”, Charney’s215 poundphysique towered over everyone as he stood and greeted me with a firm handshake. He removed his charcoal suit jacket to reveal broad shoulders and a small waist hidden far too well. His white shirt looked starched stiff, and his red and white parquet pattern Armani necktie was a perfect compliment.

  “Finally, I get to meet the man who has so impressed Curtis, and trust, he isn’t an easy man to impress.” Charney pointed at Curtis and winked in my direction. He had lips to die for. While he talked, for a brief moment, I heard nothing. I was too busy watching Charney’s lips separate and come back together to make words that rolled from his tongue effortlessly.

  At twenty-nine years old, Charney looked half his age. He had chestnut brown eyes and naturally arched eyebrows. His facial hair hadn’t fully grown in. He didn’t look freshly shaved, and the only hint of man, besides his age, was his mustache that sat perfectly above his lips. His smile was wide. His teeth were pearly white. He had an attractive roughness to him, almost as if out of his charcoal pinstripe Armani suit, he could very well bear resemblance to a neighborhood thug. He seemed confident, yet there was a minor intimation of uncertainty about him. He was young and already accomplished, yet his swagger was humble.

  His female companion, introduced as Riley Delahunt, sat quietly, scrutinizing her surrounding, as if wondering what hell she had gotten herself in. Maybe she was told not to say anything out of fear that she might say the wrong thing. Maybe she knew the real Millington family, or held some secret that would ruin the family name. I had the impression, however, that not Curtis, Nadia, nor Charney had anything to hide; at least, so it seemed.

  Although Riley wasn’t
as tall as Ms. Millington, or had the voluptuous breasts, she was as beautiful. Her piercing apple-green eyes were nothing short of mesmerizing. Her curly Hawaiian-dark hair rested playfully on her shoulders. She wore a white, rectangular-shaped diamond suspended from a silver necklace, hanging just above the third button of her white collar shirt. It sat in the middle of her sternum, resting on almond colored skin. That was all the flesh she revealed.

  Ms. Delahunt dressed, acted, and looked the part. She was a woman with neither needs nor wants, and the woman behind a successful man. Beyond the surface, she seemed to be a woman who had been in a situation far longer than she expected, and couldn’t find the words or ways to say goodbye. Both Charney and Riley seemed they were both in an unhappy, unhealthy situation, and they needed to get out, even though they tried to hid the obvious behind a mask of misery they thought they were hiding well.

  Terris returned with a bottle of 1928 Les Vignerons de Maury, poured a portion in each crystal wine glass.

  “Have you had a chance to glance at your menus?” he asked with pen and notepad in hand.

  “The lady and I will have our usual,” Curtis said.

  The usual for the wealthy couple was Poached Halibut, sweet and sour golden and red beets and extra virgin olive oil emulsion. The barely-cooked salmon in a black truffle pot au feu, warm cabbage and salad that I ordered, was an excellent choice, Terris confirmed.

  During dinner we kept the conversation light and without controversy.

  “I noticed you admiring the art work as you walked in. Do you collect?” Curtis took a sip of his vintage wine, and carefully placed his glass on the table.

  “No, I’m not an art collector by any stretch of the imagination. I love beautiful artwork,” I explained.

  Besides a black and white photograph of an old woman drinking from a water fountain in a park near my grandmother’s home, I owned nothing famous.

  Curtis talked about the few pieces he owned, which included a Monet, an original Rembrandt, and an O’Keefe Nadia had bought for him a few weeks ago as an early birthday present. She looked like she admired fine art as well.

  “And it’s my favorite,” Curtis smiled and kissed his wife on her cheek. That piece sits behind his desk in his home office.

  “I just thought the office needed a splash of color,” Nadia added.

  Watching the two interact as they did was refreshing to see. I thought about my father and that the chance to see him and my mother in such a display of affection had been taken away from me.

  Nadia had room for dessert and enjoyed a coconut sorbet. Riley, who ate like a debutante, and left traces of her steamed striped bass, sweet corn puree, and grilled peppers on her plate, silently devoured the banana crème brulee, which she reluctantly shared with Charney. Halfway through his dessert Charney expressed interest in my business aspirations. We maintained eye contact throughout his inquisition.

  “As Curtis may have already told you, my firm has been hired to design and oversee the construction of his newest investment. My business partner and I own an architectural and interior design agency,” I said, looking in Curtis’ direction. He nodded.

  “The Harrison Agency, right?”

  “That’s right. We’ve also done business as Double R Architectural and Interior Designs. We started off really small, but the company has grown, and having someone like Mr. Millington as a client should give our business the recognition we seek.”

  I wasn’t sure where Charney was going with this question and answer session, but since I had nothing to hide, I continued to indulge him. Riley had an important phone call and politely excused herself from the table.

  “So, is it just your business partner and yourself?” he asked.

  “I have a secretary.”

  They laughed. I joined in the laughter, and when I collected myself, I continued.

  “Her name is Camille. Of course there are others. I have an investor who no longer lives in the area. He’s the other R in Double R, but has no direct dealings with the company. Then, there’s the business partner I mentioned earlier. Mr. Millington you spoke with him briefly.”

  “Yes, I remember. Wesley, right?”

  “Right.”

  Most of what I was telling Charney was information I had already shared with the Millingtons. They sat and listened intently. I mentioned the other designers and their credentials, assuring Mr. Millington he had hired the best team to get man his project. I was proud of my company and our accomplishments, and getting a contract like the Millington Project meant the company had arrived.

  “And where did you study?” Charney asked.

  He leaned forward with his hands clasped on top of the table. I realized that while we talked, our wine glasses sat untouched.

  “If I’m prying too much, please say so,” Charney offered.

  I didn’t mind Charney asking because I had no problem sharing my accomplishments. It felt good to have a conversation completely about me. For the first time, in a long time, I wasn’t talking about Kelvin.

  “To answer your question, no, you’re not asking anything I don’t mind sharing. As for my education, I went to MIT,” I responded, smiling with pride.

  “Let me get to the point….”

  Before Charney could complete his thought, Riley returned, looking a little disappointed. She apologized and announced that she had a pressing issue she had to deal with. Curtis and Nadia also hinted that they, too, were ready to call it a night. As I grabbed my suit jacket to join in their departure, Curtis interrupted and insisted that Charney andI continued our conversation.

  “Diaz will take care of you,” he said as he pulled his wife’s chair, held her hand, and helped her to her feet.

  I didn’t want to decline Mr. Millington’s suggestion.

  I said my goodbyes to Curtis and Nadia. Curtis stopped and had a brief conversation with Diaz before exiting the restaurant. Riley was extremely polite. She apologized, again, for having to leave the conversation. I understood. Charney excused himself, accompanied Riley through the double glass doors, and waited for her car to arrive.

  From the table, the hustle and bustle of the outdoors was visible. So, too, were the women in their elegant evening wears and men in dark business suits, if not tuxedos. Le Bernardin had a very romantic atmosphere. Many of the customers who exited their automobiles man before woman, entered in just the opposite. As they came in, they walked hand in hand or arm in arm, the man claiming the lady he was with. The Millington couple did just that. Charney and Riley, however, walked one behind the other. Not even a hand in the small of her back to guide her through the crowd. Nothing hinted that they were together. My earlier thoughts about them seeming a little distant were confirmed.

  I was nursing my glass of Long Island that Terris had brought while I waited for Charney’s return.

  “I hope I’m not keeping you from other engagements,” he said, sitting in the chair to my left, the one where Mr. Millington previously sat.

  “No, you’re not.”

  I didn’t plan on ending dinner sitting next to someone I had no business or personal relationship with, and I hoped, in the end, this sacrifice was worth it. I had nothing else planned, and since I wasn’t spending my nights talking to either Kelvin or Jackson, Charney’s company was better than spending the evening alone.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  “So what exactly did you and this Charney character discuss?” Wesley asked.

  “Not only were Mr. Millington and Charney business partners, they were also cousins. He had another project in mind he wanted me to design.”

  “Really!? If you keep this up, I’m going to be broke taking you to celebrate,” Wesley Joked. “What project was he thinking about?”

  “He didn’t exactly go into details. Just that it was one he had been thinking about for a while, and had finally gotten the financialsupport after gotting the banks and Mr. Millington to see his vision.”

  “So what about this female he was wit
h?”

  “Mrs. Millington?” I asked in jest

  “No. Riley. She sounds like a winner.” Wesley smiled and took his drink to the head.

  “I’m just messing with you, man. She was his ex-wife. They divorced a couple years ago, but they still had a pretty solid business relationship. Something at the table wasn’t sitting well with her, and after they left, Charney gave me an idea what exactly might have been bothering her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Turns out this Charney guy wasn’t only a ladies man, he was a man’s man, too.”

  “So he’s a baseball player, swinging his bat in both directions.”

  I laughed. “Pretty much.”

  “And Curtis knew this?” Wesley asked with uncertainty.

  “He did. Apparently he thought that Charney and I should meet, but he was certain that I wouldn’t give him the attention he sought unless Charney had some business to discuss.”

  “I’m curious. Mr. Millington thought he knew you well enough to take a guess at where your interest lies?”

  “Not exactly. But conversations can be more revealing than you think. Maybe I should have shown up to dinner with Denise or Toni on my arms. But you know me. I have nothing to hide,” I explained.

  “I know. So what did you say to him?”

  “You know I don’t mix business with pleasure, and I wasn’t about to start with someone like Charney, no matter what was at stake or how irresistible I found him to be. I also told him I was already pleasing someone.”

  Talking to Wesley was easy. I could talk to him about anything. He wasn’t judgmental, and he made a damn good business partner, too.

  “So how did he take that news?”

  “The fool asked me who the lucky lady was.”

  “Maybe he was giving you the benefit of the doubt, since you weren’t acknowledging his advances.”

  “Whatever he was giving me, or planned on giving me, I didn’t need it.”

  “I can almost guarantee that’s the reason he and that Riley girl broke up. People don’t take marriage serious anymore, and they get into it not know what the hell they are getting into. I hardly talk to my pops now. Ten years into their marriage and I still can’t stand his new wife. I have no respect for home wreckers.”