Easy Reunion

by Jerald, Tracey

  “I just made sure she recognized her name tag.” She lets out a shrill laugh that’s immediately echoed by her cohorts.

  “Which was?” I step forward into her space, no longer under the threat the power base of Forsyth once held over me.

  Defensively, she crosses her arms. “All I did was put her proper name on her badge.”

  “You mean Kelsey Kennedy?” Juliette squirms, telling me all I need to know. “You know, I hope you know an outstanding lawyer,” I mention offhandedly.

  “What? Why?” Her voice holds a note of nervousness she tries to hide.

  “Because what you did could be construed as a misdemeanor under Georgia law. You deliberately cultivated feelings of hatred, provoking a breach of peace.”

  “Really? Who would dare press charges against me?” Her chin juts out pugnaciously.

  I smile cruelly before shoving my way past her and her little posse, leaving her to think that maybe somebody was going to hold her accountable for her remorseless behavior.

  Now, I don’t just want a drink before I go to my room to work, I need it. Then, maybe I can try to forget when I’ll ever have a chance to apologize for my mistakes, or if I’ll be left to regret them for the rest of my life.

  * * *

  Pushing my way through crowds of partygoers, I feel like I’ve lost my last chance to say everything I’ve needed to get off my chest.

  I fucked up.

  I never wanted to hurt you.

  Can you forgive me?

  The answer to the last is something I’ve spent fifteen years waiting for. The problem is, every time I’ve asked the question in my head, silence is my only answer. Like I suspect it would have been if I’d gotten the chance to talk with Kelsey tonight.

  I enter the Aqua Fuego Bar, and the place is packed. Golfers and couples waiting for their spot in the adjoining restaurant are taking up every available seat except one next to a woman who is talking on her cell phone near a modern piece of aqua blue backlit glass. Sighing in relief, I begin to weave my way toward the empty spot at the bar, hoping no one beats me to it.

  But as I get closer, I can’t help but notice the light catching the highlights in her warm brown hair as she tosses her head back while she laughs. It cascades over the creamy skin of a bared shoulder, reminding me vaguely of someone I can’t quite put my finger on.

  Maybe she’s someone I went to school with? Before I know it, I’m standing right next to her. Her face is in profile while she listens with a smile to the person she’s speaking to.

  Clearing my throat to interrupt her call politely, I ask, “Is this seat taken?”

  Blinking up at me with eyes that are bright gray, I freeze in place. I still don’t move when she murmurs into the phone, “I’ll text you later. Something came up.” After giving me a full head-to-toe perusal, she nods her head as if she’s making an internal decision.

  Lowering her long lashes, she says, “Have a seat.”

  Sliding my ass onto the stool next to her, I immediately raise my hand to get the bartender’s attention before I start to ask her a million questions.

  Like how I feel like I know her when I have no idea who she is?

  Chapter 4

  Kelsey

  The only thing that’s perfect about me is my shoes. They’re fucking gorgeous. Sculpted leather covered in pyramid studs, they make my legs look longer than I ever imagined they could be. And before I walked into the lobby in front of the shitshow of a fifteen-year high school reunion, they made me feel sexy as fuck.

  I felt like I could walk in and do precisely what Angel wanted me to do—stride in with my head held high and walk out with people’s souls spiked under my heels.

  Now, in a one-shoulder cocktail dress that hugs my curves, I trace the lone name tag on the table with a perfectly manicured finger.

  King Kong.

  Memories of that being screamed at me from all directions as I walked into class, into the cafeteria, as I walked into that fucking building, swamp me. But none so horrific as the last. Shame sends a burst of heat along my cheeks, brightening their pale blush tone.

  “Why did I let myself be talked into this?” I murmur aloud. After casting a look of practiced indifference toward the door, I’m seconds away from snatching up the loathsome, tacky clip when I hear voices behind me.

  “Do you think she’ll have the guts to show?”

  “Please, if her brain works half as well as her mouth did on food, she won’t even try to board an airplane. I’m sure the airlines have to charge her double anyway.” Juliette Bernard, former head cheerleader, knockout blonde, and the president of my former tormentors, sneers. “I probably wasted the money even having her name printed on the tag. If Kong doesn’t understand by now, she should simply…” Spotting me, she looks me up and down even as my heart beats erratically in my chest. Does she recognize me even though I’m over two hundred pounds lighter?

  Her face transforms with a perky smile I want to punch right off. I could; boxing classes taught me a hell of a lot. Instead, I’m momentarily taken aback when she coos, “I adore those shoes. Where did you get them?”

  Fortunately, I’ve learned how to deal with my fair share of people just like this. “A little boutique in New York. They’re one of a kind.” My voice is calmer than I would have expected under the circumstances. Maybe Angel was right—maybe I did need to come here to face my demons.

  Thoughtfully, she taps her finger against her lips. “I’ll pay you two thousand for them.”

  My lips fall open. “Excuse me?”

  “They’re divine. I want them. I’ll write you a check right now.” Juliette reaches for her crystal-encrusted clutch.

  “You don’t even know what size they are,” I say with more than a touch of disbelief.

  Giving me the once-over, she declares, “Even though you’re a bit wider in the hips than I am, I bet we’re close to the same shoe size. An eight, right? So does that amount work? Listen, I’ll even give you my shoes to get back to your room.” She goes to toe off her shoes before I hold up my hand to stop her.

  “Stop. They’re not for sale.” I cannot believe the audacity of this woman. A little voice in the back of my mind is nudging me, saying, Maybe it wasn’t just you. Maybe she treats everyone like this. I silence it as I enter a staring contest with a woman who’s been given everything and fears nothing.

  Not the least her sanity.

  “Everything has a price,” she smirks. The women around her nod; I vaguely recognize them as part of her cheerleading posse from fifteen years ago. Then again, she could have said the next president of the United States was about to be hatched from her stomach as a chartreuse alien and they’d have agreed to it.

  I was never so glad as not to be part of the “in” crowd as I dreamed of so many nights as I am right now. I’m ecstatic I have something more substantial, an ability to think for myself. “No, not everything.” I pause before adding, “Breeding and class certainly don’t.”

  I arch a perfectly threaded eyebrow as I saunter past the gasping gaggle of women with two thoughts in my mind: a glass of wine and a call to my best friend.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe I wasted good money on this. It was a fucking farce, Angel.”

  “Calm down, Kels. Your flight takes off early tomorrow morning. Darin will pick you up at the airport and bring you right here.”

  “I’m so glad I decided not to stay an extra day,” I grumble as I take a sip of the full-bodied pinot grigio in front of me.

  “What time will you land?”

  “Around one. You know, why don’t I arrange for a car and meet you at the house? This way, Darin won’t have to leave work in the middle of the day to get me.”

  I can practically hear the wheels turning on the other end of the line. “It would help,” she agrees. Angel and Darin live in a beautifully refurbished home near Audubon Park. Until I find my new place in the Big Easy, they’ve generously let me move into their guest suite. But
I need to find something soon. After all, it won’t be long before their baby arrives and Darin’s family descends to claim the space I’m currently occupying.

  I smile widely when I think about how I’m going to spoil this baby from the sister of my heart. Angel has no idea of the things I have planned for her precious Lucille. Being a hands-on aunt to this miracle was what pushed me over the edge to make the final decision to move to New Orleans.

  After all, everything I need is inside of me. Oh, and a good computer helps.

  “Did anything good happen?” Angel’s question brings me back out of my reverie.

  “Well, my favorite cheerleader offered to buy my shoes.” I pause delicately. “Off my feet.”

  Angel starts to giggle.

  “She offered to write me a check. Even offered me her shoes to get me back to my room. Like they were disposable flip-flops from the manicurist salon or some shit.” I take another sip of wine as Angel erupts into full-out laughter.

  “Stop. Right now,” she drawls when she can catch her breath. “I’m clutching Lucy so she doesn’t make me pee on myself.”

  I grin. “And thus, my mission of the day has been accomplished.”

  “What? I know it wasn’t telling that piece of work to go fuck herself. You have too much class for that.”

  Sadly, she’s right. I wish I’d had the strength to pull that offensive badge and slap it across her nasty face. But that’s not my style. At least not in person.

  Now when I’m writing, there I get all the satisfaction I need. I’ll likely think of all the witty retorts I should have said while I’m transforming this scene for use at a later date. There, my lonely Pilar has evolved to become stronger than the girls who target her from her first day at the private school her well-meaning parents sent her to. Maybe by her senior year, she’ll even have a date, I muse. Very unlike myself. At least I have some new fodder for my books since nothing about the inspiration behind my prosaic purge has changed. Nothing ever will. Their cruelty is the kind that will continue down until something or someone stops them in their tracks.

  I thought it could be me who took them down a peg tonight. I was wrong.

  Fingering the clip-on badge for my hotel key card in my clutch, I start to answer Angel when a vaguely familiar deep voice startles me. “Is this seat taken?” My heart is sputtering in my chest as I turn to meet the bluest eyes I’ve seen in a long while. Certainly, I’ve never forgotten them in fifteen years.

  Even as the wine churns in my stomach, I murmur, “I’ll text you later. Something came up.” Angel is still squawking in my ear as I push End on our call.

  Angel was right when she figured he would be here. After all, unlike me, he had nothing to fear. He was captain of the swim team, the most handsome boy in school, and, ultimately, the final blow that drove me away.

  Rierson Perrault.

  I slip my phone away, and my fingers brush again against the badge. King Kong. The name seems to ricochet in my head. Does he recognize me? Judging by the smile flirting on his lips, I’d say no, he doesn’t. My eyes drift to his fingers resting on the bar next to me. No ring. I’m surprised a man with his kind of charm hasn’t been snapped up by some nubile young coed from some prestigious college they likely attended, and they don’t have three perfect children waiting for them at home.

  Lowering my lashes to hide my eyes, I say, “Have a seat.” I cross one leg over another, the crystals of my shoes catching the overhead light before I swing them under the bar.

  He slides onto the barstool next to me. “Am I taking someone’s spot?” At the negative shake of my head, a look of pervasive relief crosses his face. “I’m surprised to find you alone. It seems everyone here is with someone.”

  From King Kong to a pickup line. I want to throw my pinot in his face and walk out. But a longing little voice I’ve suppressed for fifteen years whispers, This is your chance, Kelsey. There’s something you want more. I shrug. “My plans fell through.” Giving him a quick perusal, I comment, “I could say the same.”

  Frustration crosses his face. “I was hoping to run into an old…friend. I’m supposed to be at a class reunion upstairs.”

  I cluck my tongue in mock sympathy. “An old girlfriend?” Maybe if I bait him with enough questions, he’ll realize who I am.

  “It wasn’t like that. We were close though. I was really hoping I’d have a chance to…” He looks like he wants to say more, but the bartender comes up with a cocktail napkin.

  “What can I get you?”

  “A manhattan.” Rierson reaches into his pocket for his wallet.

  I smile and shake my head at the bartender. “I’ve got it.”

  Rierson’s hand drops away from a lean hip. He opens his mouth, whether to protest or say thank you, but Isaac winks.

  “You got it, Kee.” He saunters off to make the drink.

  “Is that your name? Kee?” Rierson’s attention is locked on me fully at this point.

  “Kee Long.” I pause to see if he makes the connection. But even as I hold out my hand for him to shake, I refuse to think about the fact I picked my pen name from a derivative of the hurtful name hurled at me day after day for four excruciating years. Until in the end, it was this beautiful man in front of me who did it in the most public, hurtful way imaginable.

  Still, I find it difficult to swallow as the boy-turned-man I never quite forgot doesn’t take my hand to shake but instead lifts it to his lips. “Rierson Perrault. Call me Ry.”

  Isaac places his drink down next to him, but Rierson doesn’t release my hand. “Tell me about yourself, Kee.”

  There’s a kernel of the girl who tutored him who wants to be outraged and offended he doesn’t recognize me. It’s tempered by the more pragmatic part of me who looks in the mirror every day. I wouldn’t know who I was either if I hadn’t lived through the transformation myself. Instead of slamming both of my hands in Ry’s chest, or dumping my excellent wine over his shirt, I find myself slipping into a mask I know well. And within a few minutes, he’s looking at me much the same way most people do when they realize I’ve hit “the list”—with admiration and respect.

  It’s a whole different look than the pained one I last saw on his face, that’s for sure.

  Shoving aside the voices in my head screaming at me to tell him who I am, I finish my drink and wave for another.

  Time passes quickly as Ry and I keep talking. It feels like only minutes, so I’m surprised when Isaac quietly approaches to tell me it’s the last call.

  I feel good—so much more relaxed with Ry now than when he first approached me. In talking about my life, even if he doesn’t know who I am, I realize it doesn’t matter if anyone knows. My lips curve. I got the closure I came here for. Feeling more relaxed with the man I’ve been talking to for I don’t even know how long, I’m about to ask Rierson if he’d like a final drink when he brushes my shoulder-length hair away from my cheek. “How about we get a bottle of whatever you’re drinking to go?” His fingers rest on the pulse at the base of my throat.

  The invitation is as open and relaxed as our conversation has been. We’re just two strangers. Only I know there’s so much more that lies between us, that long ago, his hurtful words were my last memory of this city.

  If I walk away, we’re a chance at what might have been—nothing more, nothing less.

  But as I stare into fathomless blue eyes, for once I want to know what it might have been like if I could have had a date—if I was “good enough” to have been seen with, not just for help with tutoring. I want to know for one night what I should have been able to have felt if I were as beautiful as my grandparents told me I was, as Ry himself said I was. Even if he only muttered it the one time when he hugged me after he got the grade that guaranteed him entry to his first-choice college.

  So, I do what I normally do when I find an attractive man who obviously is interested in me—even if it’s only for just one night. I turn off the memories of who and what I was. There’s no place fo
r Kelsey here. Then again, other than with my family and with Angel, maybe there’s no place for her anywhere anymore. If I didn’t know Rierson before tonight, I’d want him. And, my heart taunts me quietly, there’s no way I would have been able to have had him before.

  Sliding off the stool, I let my hand rest lightly against his chest. “I have an early flight.” I’m pleased to see the flash of disappointment before I whisper, “I don’t need any more wine if I’m going to keep my head on straight when I touch you.”

  His nostrils flare dangerously. “Why don’t you wait for me by the elevator?” I suggest. I still need to sign the bill, and I don’t want him to see that Kee Long and Kelsey Kennedy are one and the same.

  Tipping his head close to mine, I feel my hard-won stomach muscles clench when his lips brush my ear. “Don’t be long.” He takes a quick nip, then strides off. Quickly, I scribble my real name on the receipt with a hefty tip for Isaac before following him.

  I’ll give myself a few hours to indulge in my fantasies, the ones Kelsey had that Kee will fulfill. Then my ass will be on a plane back to New Orleans, never to see him again.

  * * *

  Quietly, I slip out of bed where Ry’s still sprawled. The bed is a wreck, much like my body. I refuse to delve into my heart or mind. God, the things we did…it almost makes me want to call the airline and reschedule my flight back, but I force myself to turn my back to him and tug the silky material over my head.

  I hunt for—and find—my bra. I don’t bother with the panties since Ry ripped them off me and they’re lying in shreds on the floor. Sliding my feet back into my shoes, I slip out of the bedroom to where I dropped my clutch.

  I flick open the clasp and pull out my room key. Holding it tightly in my hand, I pause just before I open the door. God, he seems so perfect. If only I didn’t know what he’s really like. Ruthlessly turning, I slip into the hallway to make my way back up to the Penthouse Suite. I have only an hour until the car picks me up for my flight.