by Scott, S. L.
What I can do is show her who I am on the inside and hope she can trust what she sees. It’s the only defense I have to fight the lies she’ll read about me.
Two a.m. I can’t sleep, so I give in to my racing mind and give up trying to rest. I go into my office, grab my laptop, take it to the dining table, and sit. I like the vast darkness outside the wall of windows. I like seeing the city at this hour with only a few lights to draw the eye. It’s the only time this city gives the impression of peace, and I like it. The quiet.
I download the photos from my phone I took in the park, the photos of Singer, and enlarge one where she’s looking up at me, the sun in her eyes, eyes speckled in a variance of greens, gold, and brown with just a tinge of blue. When I see her, my mind always wanders back to the what ifs . . .
What if I had stayed on that fire escape?
What if I had kissed her that day?
What if?
What if?
What if?
I’m tempted to break the promise I made her commit to me. I’ve had her name in the search box more times than I can count, but I never clicked the button.
Shit. 4:16 a.m. The hours have slipped away. I drop my head into my hands and use the pad of my palms to rub my eyes. I hate the way my mind tortures me in the early hours before the sun rises. As if the daylight hours weren’t bad enough.
I step into my comfort zone—work. The priority emails are sent responses before I sit back and spin toward the windows. The sun’s still asleep and the moon’s shining high. It’s a life of luxury . . . but a lonely one. When I walked away from everyone, I thought I would find myself, but I haven’t. I’m lost. I concentrate on the things designed to distract me, things I can control.
A certain green-eyed, honey-haired beauty keeps clouding my usually focused mind. I’m bothered by her neighborhood. Singer deserves a better place to live than one covered in grime and surrounded in danger. I get that she wants some independence and that’s all she can afford, but is her safety worth it?
Before I head to bed, I send a text to Aaron. I wonder how she’ll react tomorrow when she sees him. I wonder if she’ll call me. I’ve been warned to stay clear of entanglements for the time being, which includes Singer, but I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to her.
In the time we’ve spent together, I know she deserves someone worthy, someone not buried in indecency and threats. I’ll only cause her pain, damage her vibrancy, and take her good until nothing but the bad remains.
Can I keep my distance? When I’m alone it’s easy to say yes because my thoughts are clearer. I know my enemies and the lowball tactics they use. They’ll drag her through the press with fake “facts” and exploit her goodness, making her appear bad. They’ll sully her sweetness. I should listen to Reegan. His two-word warning—stay away—is meant to protect the innocent. But it’s her purity that draws me to her.
The “Bad-Boy Billionaire” mired in lawsuits shouldn’t tarnish her good girl-next-door image. I’m not sure how she hasn’t heard of me, but I’m thankful she hasn’t. I like that she sees me for the person I am and not the image sold to the highest bidder.
Singer still sees the carefree guy she met on a fire escape, the one with the world at my feet. Keith and Dariya destroyed him like they’re trying to destroy my company.
The only way to protect her is to walk away from her. How do I do that now that I’ve glimpsed how good it feels to be with her?
9
Singer
I’m confused.
The driver patiently holds the door open for me as I try to figure out what the hell is going on. When I look at his face, he seems familiar, just like the car he’s in front of. “Did you drive me home last night?” I finally ask.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, keeping his head held up.
“Why are you here today?”
A friendly smile entrenches itself into the creases of his cheeks. “I’m your driver.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m here to drive you anywhere you’d like to go.”
Despite my narrowed eyes, he doesn’t explain further. Stepping closer, I say, “I can’t afford to pay you to take me up the street for coffee, much less to work.”
“That’s already been taken care of, Ms. Davis.” Tapping his watch, he adds, “I believe you need to be at work by eight?”
Not a hint, but a direct reminder. I glance at my watch. He’s right. I need to get going or I’ll be late. Then the one connection to this man I have dawns on me. “Did Mr. Everest send you?”
One nod confirms my suspicion, but leaves me stuck in the middle of what to do. Do I take the gift being offered? Or walk away, effectively snubbing Ethan’s thoughtfulness?
Really, there’s no debate.
I get in.
As soon as the door shuts, I try to act cool, because I don’t want the driver to think I’m unsophisticated when it comes to the finer things. “Hi, I’m Singer.”
“Yes, Ms. Davis. I’m Aaron.”
“Hello, Aaron. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, ma’am.”
Leaning forward, I take hold of the leather seat in front of me. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
I ask what I’ve been most curious about since I walked outside this morning, “Last night wasn’t a coincidence when you showed up to take us home, was it?”
“No, ma’am.”
“So are you here for more than just this morning?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“For a week or longer?” I’m giddy from the thought, at the luxury of having a driver.
“Longer, ma’am.”
“You don’t have to call me ma’am. Singer is good.”
“Yes, Singer.”
When my eyes meet his in the rearview mirror he winks playfully.
“You don’t have to use my name every time either.”
“Yes, ma—”
He catches himself. I smile and ask, “So how long are you assigned to drive me around?”
“For as long as you wish.”
“Wow. That’s quite an offer.”
“Not an offer.”
“You’re right. He didn’t ask me. He just sent you. So you’re a gift?”
He chuckles. “Yes, I guess.”
My back hits the leather when he starts driving and I check out the interior in the light of day. It’s nicer than I could see last night in the dark. I run my fingertips over the wood grain detailing, not sure how to process that I’m sitting in the back of a very expensive car in Manhattan being driven to work. And he’ll be back to pick me up at the end of the day to boot.
Leaning forward again, I ask, “Did Ethan say why he sent you?”
“He didn’t.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“I don’t ask why.”
I’m not sure how I feel about any of this, so I do what I always do. I text Melanie, who left for work early to get in some overtime: Ethan Everest sent a car to take me to work.
And then I wait . . .
All of ten seconds.
My phone is ringing, and with a goofy grin on my face, I answer in my mock-fancy bad English accented voice, “Hellooooooo?”
“What do you mean he sent a car? I need more than that.”
I laugh as I set my cardigan on the seat next to me. “I walked out this morning to head to the subway and there was a car waiting for me.”
“What the what? Why? Why would he do that?”
“I haven’t asked him yet. I’m not sure what to do.” I run my hand over the smooth upholstery again. “The car is really nice, Mel.”
“Is this just for this morning or what?”
“Aaron said it’s for as long as I want him.”
“Who’s Aaron?”
“The driver,” I reply as if she’s ridiculous for not being able to read my mind. Most of the time it seems she can. She’s honed her telepathy skills over many years of
friendship.
She audibly gasps. “You know the driver’s name?”
“Yep.” The buttery leather makes me sink into the seat like it was custom-made for me. “This is the nicest car I’ve ever been in, including the limo we took to prom. But I’m not sure what to do—”
“I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to be driving me home from work today is what you’re going to do.”
Giggling in response, I say, “I think I can do that. I’ll ask Aaron, but should I call Ethan to thank him or text him or not? Will I seem unsophisticated if I’m excited about this?”
“Definitely call him. No text. This is huge and deserves a call.”
“How do I say thank you for this kind of gift?”
“Sex.”
“What?”
“Yes,” she replies with all the confidence in the world. “This is a sex-worthy gift. Better than a third date.”
“Oh my God, Mel. I’m not having sex with him as a thank you.”
“You act like it would be torture to have sex with Ethan Everest.”
“Sex with Ethan would be nothing short of incredible,” I say, realizing too late that Aaron can hear every word I say. Ugh. So mortifying. Holding my hand to block my lips from being read, I lowering my voice, “Can I keep Aaron? I really want to keep him.”
“I’m not sure, Sing.” She laughs. “You need to talk to Ethan though. What if he’s paid for like a week and then you’re supposed to take over the payments. How does having a driver even work? Is he salaried or paid hourly? By each trip or miles? Hey, I thought you guys were only friends?”
“Me too.”
“I love you to death, but I wouldn’t give you this kind of gift as a friend. Just sayin’.”
“I know. It’s extravagant and luxurious, but unfortunately it’s a luxury I can’t afford.”
“Sounds like you need to make a call, but can I ask a favor first?”
“Sure.”
“Can you make the call after you drive me home tonight?” She breaks out in laughter.
I roll my eyes before cracking up too. “Ha ha! I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I need to go. Let me know how it goes.”
“You know I will. Have a good day.”
When I hang up, I debate if I should call or text him, not knowing the protocol for this kind of thank you or if it’s too early, so I start my own investigation into the mysterious Mr. Everest. “Aaron, do you know what time Ethan wakes up?”
“He’s asleep if that’s what you’re asking. He went to bed at five.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Does he stay up that late every night?”
“A lot of nights.”
I might be crossing a line, but Aaron will tell me if I am. I can tell we’re going to be fast friends. “Do you know if he was alone after he dropped me off?”
In the mirror, I see Aaron’s eyes crinkle at the sides followed by a smile. “Yes. He was alone. All night.”
See. Fast friends. “Oh, but don’t tell him I asked you that. Okay?”
“It’s our secret.”
Looking away, I try to hide my smile, but when I peek back, I see him still smiling.
It’s gone quickly when I think about why he was up all night. He mentioned troubles and not being able to sleep well in his own apartment. A deep-seated sadness seeps in. We’ve hung out several times now and he’s always in a good mood until he lets his mind wander and exposes his worries through his silence and distance. When I’ve seen him out with our mutual friends, he’s smiling and having a good time. Is he putting on a front to hide his true emotions? Am I seeing the real man beneath the handsome surface or is it just a façade for show?
The car pulls to the curb. “We’re here.” Aaron dashes around to open my door.
I’ll call Ethan later and thank him. For now, I’ll let him rest. When I step out, I say, “Thank you. So—”
“Yes, I’ll pick you up at five this evening. And then we’ll pick up Ms. Lazarus. Have a good day.”
I’m tempted to ask how he knows Melanie’s last name, but I’m trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you. You too.”
The hands of the clock drag, each minute feeling like forever while I wait for an appropriate hour to call Ethan. What is an appropriate hour when you hit the bed at five? Remembering my college days, I’m thinking after one p.m.
Chip has me off to get a “barista made” coffee at ten for an energy boost. Apparently mine aren’t up to coffeehouse standards, and this does not bother me one bit. I run out to get lunch at eleven thirty from the deli down the street and then I’m stuck in another lunchtime conference call that lasts past two. I keep checking my watch as if that will speed things up. Before I have a chance to make the call I want to make, a stack of statements lands on my desk that need to be entered into the network accounting system immediately I’m told, and this keeps me busy until after four.
Despite the endless numbers and distractions, Ethan hasn’t left my mind. My first real break finally comes, and I figure I should do the deed. I push down this anxiety lumped in my throat and take my phone to the women’s restroom to hide from Chip.
One ring.
Two rings.
“Hello, Singer.” His voice is smooth and much too seductive for four in the afternoon when I’m dressed in a conservative blue dress and yellow cardigan.
“Hi.” I stop, suddenly forgetting the reason I called. My name the only thing I want to hear him say, again and again.
A chuckle infiltrates the connection, and he asks, “Are you there?”
“I am. I wanted to call you—”
“I like you calling me. Why is it echoing?”
Turning and covering my free ear, I say, “I’m in the restroom. I’m not allowed to make personal calls at work.”
“And yet, you called me, you rebel.”
Biting my lip, I close my eyes and listen, his words warming me. “I want to thank you for Aaron.”
He laughs again. “I didn’t give you Aaron, but he’s a perk of the package.”
“For sending him to drive me. Don’t tease,” I say, my happiness lilting my tone. “And if I’m being honest—”
“And I hope you always are.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this gift, Ethan, or why you did this for me.”
“Can I be honest with you?”
“I hope you always are.” I repeat his line with a goofy smile on my face.
“Would you believe that I did it for selfish reasons?”
“You and your selfish reasons,” I tease. “Spill. What are they?”
His breath deepens as if he’s relaxing back, then he replies, “I don’t want you taking the subway anymore. I don’t want you walking around that neighborhood. There has to be other options for you.”
I try not to take offense—to feel judged—but he’s not the first one to say this. I’m trying to make it here, so it is what it is. “You have money to toss around apparently, but I don’t. I’m sorry you don’t approve of where I live, but I’m doing the best I can. One day, I hope things change, but for now, I carry pepper spray, and I’m careful.”
“The car came from a good place.” He sounds like he’s struggling over his thoughts. He sighs, and confesses, “I worry about you.” He what?
I whisper, “Since when?”
“Since the night we met.”
My breath catches in my chest, and I look around to make sure I’m still alone as tears fill my eyes. I don’t even know why that makes me emotional. I don’t understand why he says such things, especially given his choice about us. Or the lack of us. This is so confusing.
What I do know is that I like him. I liked him that first night, but since I’ve gotten to know him a little better, I’m even more enamored.
“You know I’m struggling to accept this gift, right?”
“I know, but I hope you do.”
“I ca
n’t repay you.”
“I don’t want you to. I want you to be safe.”
I ease up on the heaviness of the conversation, and say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now that I have a car and driver at my disposal, how about I take you to dinner sometime to show my gratitude.”
“I’d like that.” He chuckles. “What day do you have in mind?”
“I promised my best friend a ride home tonight. We live together and she’s fully impressed with the car situation.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replies, and laughs again.
“How about Aaron and I pick you up tomorrow around six? I take it he knows the way?”
“Yes, he does. I’ll see you then.”
“Goodbye, Ethan.”
I hang up and hold the phone to my chest. When I see my reflection in the mirror, I tilt my head down and continue smiling.
That man.
He’s affecting my head and my heart. That only means one thing—Trouble.
* * *
I walk out of the building at five after five. Aaron nods and opens the door for me. “Hello,” I greet.
“Hello, Singer. How was your day?”
“Not worth mentioning. Yours?”
“Busy.”
I like that he’s letting his guard down. “And yet you’re here.”
“You’re a priority.”
The ultimate professional in him returns so quickly. “Thank you.”
After telling Aaron where Melanie works, I call her. “We’re on our way.”
“I’m already outside. I couldn’t take being in there any longer. Up for drinks?”
“Yes. Always. You decide and Aaron will drive.” I catch his eyes in the mirror, and by his silent laughter, he seems amused. I laugh too. Might as well enjoy it while I have it.
When I return to the call, she says, “I like this chauffeur business.”
“Don’t call him that. It makes me feel weird.”
“You should feel weird,” she teases. “There’s nothing normal about it.”