Closely Guarded Secret (6 page)

F
inally, I’m alone – me and my thoughts. Eyes closed and head resting against the back of the tub, I absentmindedly trace the scars across my abdomen. During the last ten years, the smaller ones have faded, but the two large ones still have their angry, raised edges. The ones on the underside of my arms have also faded, along with the one on my palms. I usually don’t think back on that time, but the stopover in Houston, has brought the reason I have them to the surface. They’re a part of me; wounds from a battle I survived. Barely. I need to clear my thoughts and enjoy soaking in the warm lavender scented water. Inhale cleansing breaths and exhale all negativity. My eyelids grow heavy as my body and mind relaxes.

“Why are you doing this Thomas? Oh god, no. Please stop…don’t.” Somebody help. Help me.

Is that screaming? I jerk awake, my frantic arms splashing water over the side of the tub. My heart is pounding. My eyes are wild. Every muscle in my body is tense. My breathing is heavy. Whatever woke me, I’m thankful for. I look around, taking in my surroundings. After I’m sure I’m safe and at home, my body slowly stops shaking and my heart starts to beat in a normal rhythm

#

I make sure all the doors and windows are locked before retrieving the bottle of wine from the fridge, and pour myself a bigger than usual glass. Letting out a long, deep breath, I get busy checking emails. A few minutes later, my phone rings, but the caller ID shows unknown and I never answer those calls.

I check and see I have a couple of voice mails and a missed call from Jodi. A new email message pops up and as I click on it, I can’t believe what I’m seeing -- it’s from Bryce Steede. How in the hell did he get my email? My stomach flutters and I feel flush. I want to read it but I’m apprehensive. My fingers hover over the keyboard and drum against the keys. Screw it. I open the email and it’s just two words.

‘Forgive me.’

What? He hasn’t done anything to be forgiven for. Has he? I decide to check my voice mails, starting with the latest one from Jodi: “Hi, Ali. I know you’re recouping from your trip and I want to hear all about it. However, I should warn you about something first. Mr. Steede called the office today and insisted he needed to get in touch with you, something about the upcoming shoot? I wasn’t available, but Trina, my new hire, gave him your number and email address. I wanted to give you a heads up. Hope you’re having a great evening and we’ll talk on Monday.”

Oh. So that explains Bryce’s cryptic email. Jodi doesn’t answer when I call her back. Noticing I have another message, it’s from Bryce. I close my eyes and inhale deeply as I listen.

“Ms. Quinn, I hope you don’t get too angry with your assistant for giving me your contact information, hence my email to you asking for your forgiveness. I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday at the restaurant. I feel I owe you an explanation.” He leaves his number. Of course, he was the ‘unknown.’ People like him don’t have public numbers.

He doesn’t owe me an explanation for anything. Should I call and listen to what he has to say? Do I want to know what he has to say? I don’t know why, but yes, I do. His message piqued my interest.

I load up on more wine before making the call, bringing the bottle with me. Listening to the message again, nothing in his voice, just like his expressions, gives anything away. I take a deep breath and dial. He probably won’t answer. It’s Friday night, and I’m sure he has someone’s legs draped over his shoulders right now.

After a couple of rings, I decide I should hang up. Then I hear his voice on the other end. It takes me a minute to determine it’s not his voice mail. “Bryce Steede,” he answers in his deep, authoritative voice.

“Mr. Steede. This is Alixandra Quinn. I understand you need to speak with me about the upcoming photo shoot?” I’m going to keep this professional.

“I’m glad you called. Please, call me Bryce. I do need to speak with you but not about the session. Didn’t you get my message?” He sounds confused.

“Yes, I got your message. Since this isn’t about the photo shoot, I don’t know what we have to talk about.” As I say it, I’m curious to know the reason for his call.

“What happened yesterday with Mara, won’t happen again. She came to the airport after I told her not to and I’m not in the habit of creating a public scene.” He sounds apologetic as he continues, “I told you yesterday why we were at the restaurant and I’m guessing from your reaction at the valet, you assumed we left together. We didn’t.” I don’t know why but relief radiates throughout my whole body at his confession. I have the need to remain cautious though.

“Mr. Steede, what you do is your business and doesn’t concern me and you certainly don’t need to explain yourself.” As I say it, I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Why does he have this effect on me? It must be the wine.

“Ali, I feel I do. I’m cutting to the chase, here. I want to see you again and need you to understand I’m not with her. I’d like to take you to dinner. I’ve been thinking of you ever since seeing you at the charity function. Then meeting and talking with you in New York, and flying with you yesterday, I can’t get you off my mind.” Not at all the reaction I would expect from a CEO. Behind that title though, he’s still a man.

“Mr. Steede, you were more than kind on the plane, but that’s as far as it goes for me.” I’m not in the habit of going out with men so they can carve another notch in their bedpost. I’ve seen the pictures of him out and about with several different women. Hell, I’ve taken many of them.

“I know it’s short notice, but I want to see you. How about tonight?” It’s obvious he didn’t hear one word I said. I think I’m trying his patience. He’s determined to get what he wants.

“I’m already in for the night and don’t feel like going out. Look, why don’t you call one of your many companions because I’m sure they’d be more than willing to drop what they’re doing and run to you, just to stroke your ego. Which by the way, doesn’t seem like it needs much help.” I clasp my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I said that.

“You’re right, I could call any number of women and they’d all be more than willing to come over right now, but that’s not what I want.”

“I’d say at least thirty-one,” I mumble out loud, not meaning to. Damn. I’m not about to reveal that my secret nickname for him is Thirty-one, and all his women are Flavors.

“What does that mean?” His words are clipped and I can tell he’s irritated.

“Nothing,” I say, cursing myself again. I take another big gulp of wine. “Plus, I don’t think going out with you is a good idea.”

“How can you say that if you don’t give me a chance?” He mumbles something under his breath and I swear it sounded like ‘stubborn woman.’ He continues on like I haven’t turned him down at all. “We can go out tomorrow night then. You name the place.”

“Bryce, look…” I let out an exasperated breath.

Dr. Hunter’s words chose this time to ring back to me. Maybe Steven and my mother also are right. I do need to put myself out there, but should I let a playboy like Bryce be the one I take chance on? How can I? Arguing back and forth with myself about this is getting me nowhere. I’m feeling emboldened, or maybe it’s the wine. “Let me think about it. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’ll accept that. At least you didn’t say no.”

“True, I didn’t, but that’s not to say I still won’t,” I quip.

“That's a start. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Steede.”

“Please call me Bryce.

“Okay,” my voice softens, “goodnight, Bryce.”

My head is swimming. All I want to do is sleep. My whole body is tingling and I know it’s because I’m thinking about saying yes, and the thought scares and exhilarates me at the same time.

I
sit at my desk going through my emails and surfing the web. My legs are numb and when I look at the clock I know why. It’s only eight in the morning but I’ve already been sitting here for three hours already. I thought I had a peaceful sleep, but I woke up at five this morning, so it’s pretty obvious I didn’t. I’m sure the conversation with Bryce had a lot to do with it. While talking to him, I felt a tremor in the wall I’ve built around myself.

Plopping back on my bed, I think maybe I’ll lie here all day and nap intermittently. As good as that idea sounds, I should get up since I know Steven will be making breakfast by now. I wonder how last night went? I hope for his sake it worked out and he and Sampson are back where they both belong, with each other.

Last night’s conversation with Bryce comes creeping into my mind. I groan, pulling the pillow over my face. Letting out a primal scream and kicking my feet, I have a full-blown tantrum. There’s no way I can go out with him, is there? Maybe I won’t call him back. I don’t know what to do. Right now, I need coffee and food.

I expect to find Steven cooking breakfast but he’s not in the kitchen. Where is he? “Steven? Where are you? I’m hungry.” That usually makes him come bounding from wherever he is.

“Steven, come on.” I look in the living room then go toward his closed bedroom door. I knock and wait. Nothing. I open the door, but he’s not there. His bed is made up. “Oh. I guess you stayed with Sampson last night,” I say aloud. I’m hungry and decide to take a quick shower then head over to Dottie’s True Blue Café for breakfast.

The line is long, which isn’t unusual for Dottie’s and I don’t mind waiting. Deciding to call Steven, I tug my phone out of my overstuffed purse. I get his voice mail. I hope he and Sampson worked out their issues. I’ll worry about that after breakfast.

  When I get home, Steven’s car is in the driveway. He’s lounging on the sofa with a huge cup of coffee cradled in both hands. I plop down next to him. “Well, look who the cat dragged in,” I joke. “I was about to call the National Guard.”

“You should have: all those men in uniform. That would have been a great way to wake up.” He licks his lips and his bloodshot eyes light up. Then he sighs, “I’m exhausted,” He looks and sounds drunk, but he’s not.

  I feign disgust. “I’m glad to see even sleep deprived, your freaky sense of humor doesn’t wane. By the smug look on your face, things went well between you and Sampson?”

“Sampson and I talked all night. We didn’t get to bed until seven this morning but the wait was worth it, well worth it,” he winks at me.

Holding my hands up, palms out, I let him know I don’t want to hear anymore. “Remember the rules of Fight Club, Steven?”

“Too early for you to hear all the juicy details?” He’s impossible, but I’m relieved. Steven and Sampson are back together and the world seems to have righted itself.

#

Like a cat waking from a long nap, I stretch my body across the bed. The angle of the golden light falling across me tells me the sun’s getting ready to set. My phone’s ring tone jangles me out of half-awake contentment. Caller ID says ‘unknown’ but, immediately, I know it’s Bryce. I put down the phone and let the call go to voice mail. I feel like a coward. Maybe I am.

Soon I hear a ding, and I grab my phone off the table. My heart races and the same prickling sensation I get being around Bryce, returns. My inner self is excited that he called. My mind, however, takes out yellow caution tape and wraps it around my brain. As I listen to his message, I’m excited and disappointed at the same time.

“Hello Ali. This is Bryce Steede.” I smile – he sounds so formal. “I’ve been hoping to hear from you today, but I need to let you know something’s come up – something requiring my immediate attention. I’m sorry to say this means I won’t be able to have dinner with you tonight. Call me tomorrow and we’ll make other plans. I hope you understand about tonight and I look forward to hearing from you.”

I feel like I’m on an emotional roller coaster. Up one minute because he has called, then plunging downward when he says he can’t make it - to a dinner I wasn’t sure about going to anyway.

In my head, I hear the conversation I had with Dr. Hunter: it’s time to let it go and move forward with my life. After debating with myself for a while, I decide that, yes, I’ll call Bryce tomorrow. What possible harm can there be in talking to him over the phone?

I’m still recovering from this topsy-turvy emotional week. Thank goodness, I’m not going anywhere else anytime soon. Settling back against my pillows in bed, one more night of restful sleep, I should be back to normal.

I switch on the TV and begin surfing channels. I stop and stare as Bryce fills the screen, looking too sexy in a tuxedo, mingling with a crowd of people who are all dressed in formal evening attire. So, is this what needed his “immediate attention?” He is one handsome man. In an instant, he’s gone, ousted by the next news item. Since the TV is on mute, I didn’t hear what the event was about. I roll over, holding a pillow in my arms, with Bryce on my mind, and tell myself that I’m ready to do this.

#

I recommend waking up to the heavenly aroma of hot, steaming coffee. Am I dreaming? I usually can’t smell the morning coffee from my room.

“Good morning, Starshine,” Steven says. I roll over and open one eye. Steven’s is standing next to my bed with a cup of his special brew. He looks refreshed and better than I’ve seen him in days.

“Morning. Is that for me?” I ask groggily.

“Yes, I figured I needed to make amends. I know I broke our pact to let each other know if we’re going to be out all night, but my phone died.”

“All is forgiven,” I say, reaching for the steaming cup and taking a sip. “Mmmm - good. I knew you were with Sampson, but I would feel better if I had his number too. I’ll only use it in case of emergency.”

He picks up my phone and quickly adds Sampson’s number. “There. Done. Breakfast is ready. Are you going to get up? I’ve had too much activity in the past 48 hours and I’m famished,” he says in his most perverted voice.

“You want to divulge every kinky, twisted thing you did, don’t you?”

“Only to you. Now, get up.” As he sashays out of my room, I crawl out of bed.

“So, what did you do last night?” He asks as I walk into the kitchen. He’s looking for gossip.

“Oh, you know, the usual. I had a hot date with this guy with whom I have had a long standing affair,” I say nonchalantly.

“I’m sure you did. Do I know him?” he asks teasingly.

“Yes.”

“Well…”

“His initials are T.V.” We both laugh loudly.

“Girl, I thought you were going to say your vibrator.”

“I don’t have one,” I say, feeling shy. I don’t know why I feel that way. We have talked everything sex, read books, discussed things; he’s even talked in detail about things he’s done, which I’ve cringed at. God knows I’m not a prude when it comes to talking about it, but I don’t need to hear every detail of his sex life. He told me I needed to know because one day it will come in handy. You can learn a lot by reading and listening to Steven.

He looks surprised. “You don’t have a vibrator? You should. Every bedroom in America should have one. We’ll go this week and find you one. I’m all for shower orgasms, but you really need something in your bedside table for those ‘special times,’” he says, making quotation marks with his fingers. I feel my face getting hot and I know I’m turning red. How does he know what I do in the shower?

“You’re too blunt sometimes.”

“Girlfriend, once you start having sex, you’ll be shedding your inhibitions, and surprising yourself with what comes out of your mouth. Especially during sex. It’s really liberating.”

“Has the morning paper come?” I ask, getting us off the sex subject.

“I think I left it in the living room. I’ll get it.” He returns and hands the folded up newspaper to me.

I eagerly begin to flip through the sections. “Hmm… that’s odd, the arts and entertainment section is missing.”

He looks at me, eyes wide open like a little kid who has told a lie to his Mom. “Okay, give it up,” I hold out my hand. He’s hesitant but hands me the section anyway, and my face drops. There on the first page, staring blankly back at me, is Bryce - with Mara. She’s turned sideways, pressing herself into him, her cheek tight against his, with her arm around the front of his waist and a huge smile across her face.

I feel sick. From the perplexed look I’m getting from Steven, I guess my expression gives me away. Why do I feel so betrayed and angry? I don’t understand where this unrealistic and irrational reaction is coming from. I barely know the man. I keep staring at the picture unable to look away, like witnessing a train wreck. There seems to be no logic in my head where Bryce Steede’s concerned

He’s done it to me again: reeling me in, then doing something to make me reject him. I sigh heavily, crumple up the paper and throw it toward the trashcan. I miss.

“You wanna talk about it?” Steven asks softly.

“No, I don’t. There’s nothing to talk about.” My tone is more abrupt than I intend.

“Judging from your reaction, I would say you’re wrong about that. Far be it for me to point out the obvious.”

“What does that mean?” I’m getting angry, but don’t know if it’s at Steven or at Bryce.

“It means you have feelings for this man. It means, as much as you try to fight it, the feelings get stronger. It means, Doll, you want him and I couldn’t be happier.”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Steven. I just met him.”

“You can deny it all you want, but eventually your natural instinct will kick in. When it does, I want to be there, front row to bear witness,” he smugly says.

He’s almost as frustrating as that traitor I just saw, full body pose plastered on the front page with the woman he claimed he wanted nothing to do with; and she’s all over him like stink on shit. What a fucking liar. “It just proves my point. Men can say what they want, but in the end, they all lie.”

Steven looks at me quizzically. I forgot I hadn’t told him about our phone call the other night. “Oh never mind,” I yell. Pushing away from the table, I storm back upstairs to my room, slamming the door behind me.

There’s a soft knock at my door a few minutes later. “Go away, Steven. I don’t want to talk right now.” The door opens and he sits on the edge of my bed.

“I don’t know what that was all about down there, but you need to get a grip and figure it out.”

We sit in silence a few moments. “He called and asked me out,” I finally say.

“He did? When?”

“Friday night. While you were at Sampson’s.”

I tell him how Bryce got my phone number and email. “Jodi should have fired her on the spot, but at the same time, I’m glad that girl gave him your number. You would have never made the first move. It’s time, Ali.” Secretly, I’m glad she gave him my number too.

“So, are you going out with him?” he prods.

“We were supposed to go to dinner last night – maybe - but I never called him back. After what I just saw, I don’t think I’ll ever go out with him.” I tell Steven about the conversation Bryce and I had.

“Okay, I’m going to play Devil’s Advocate here. This is the first man who has piqued your interest since I’ve known you. I picked up the crumpled paper you threw on the floor and looked at the picture again. Ali, I don’t think you looked at it closely enough.” I know Steven has a point to make and wish he’d get on with it.

I saw enough,” I answer back.

“No, I don’t think you did. You’re a photographer. You see things through the lens others can’t see. Your job depends on reading people’s body language. I think you need to take a closer look at the body language in this picture.”

“Why would I do that? He’s there with a woman he claims he wants nothing to do with and they’re in each other’s arms at an event he cancelled a date with me to go to. You seriously want me to reconsider? Are you high?”

“Well, technically, he didn’t cancel on you. You never called him to confirm yes or no, so you can’t blame him for that.” Shit, he’s got me there, but I’m still mad. With that, he shoves the paper in my face, telling me, “Ali, look. You’ve missed the obvious. Do you see him draped all over her? Do you see his arms around her? Both his arms are at his side. She’s the one hanging on to him. Look at his facial expression. If that’s a man in love, or even lust, then I’m straight. That man looks miserable. If I ever have that look on my face, please throw me off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

Reluctantly, I take a closer look. “I guess you could be right. The look on his face could also mean he knows I’ll see this and that’ll destroy any chance he has to get my notch on his bedpost, which I’m sure is all he wants.”

“You’re one frustrating female, you know that?” He’s getting irritated again. “Call him. You’re a mature, confident woman, so stop acting like a child. I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance.”

“Why in the hell are you getting mad at me? I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the point, you didn’t do anything. I’m all for you being cautious and you know I’ll do anything to protect you, but you’ve taken it to another level. You’ve cut yourself off for so long that no man can measure up. Men don’t like games, Ali, so stop playing them. I know you want to see him and deep down inside you know it too. Pick up the phone and call him. You may be surprised at what you’ll hear on the other end of the line.” He turns and leaves.