Good Sensations (10 page)

“I’ve heard a lot about the company. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” I watch as she eases back into the seat with grace, keeping her posture perfect, accentuating her long neck. The way she moves is quite elegant, obviously surrounded by the finest in her upbringing. But the way she crosses her legs is suggestive in a most sexual insinuation. “You’re enjoying being back in Manhattan?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not really.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Business not going well?”

“My girlfriend lives in Colorado.”

“Ahh, I was under the impression you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

I smile lightly. “My mother likes to ignore reality when it doesn’t align with her own motives.” My mother is definitely pulling out all the stops. She thinks she knows me, knows what I like, Nina fitting my old type to a tee: blonde, check; long legs, check; model body, check; polished, check; intelligent, check. I would say challenging, but there’s no challenge. I can see it in her eyes. My old arrogant ways resurface, knowing if I wanted I could have her before the entrée is served. But she’s no longer my type.

Nodding, she sighs, “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. You’re just as handsome as she said you were.”

Glancing over at her in the quiet of the car, I compare Nina to Mallory. They’re opposites. And while stunning, the woman next to me is nothing more than a quick fuck in coat check while Mallory is everything.

“I’d like to hear about your girlfriend, if you want to share.”

Taking a second look at Nina, she surprises me. She’s not the typical, shallow socialite I thought she’d be. She seems genuinely interested. “It’s complicated.”

She looks out the window, and says, “We have a few more minutes before we get there.”

I turn and look out my window. “Mallory is everything. She turns me on while turning my whole fucking life inside out. I’m frustrated, angry, and jealous of every guy who gets to see her every day. She makes me feel possessive and greedy,” I say with a chuckle and a shrug. “But I try to disguise it as protecting her best interest. I’m in lust with her
and
I’ve been in love with her from the minute I laid eyes on her. She’s gorgeous and so fucking smart. Mallory is my brand of beautiful.”

When I look back at Nina, she’s staring with her mouth wide open.

Suddenly a little embarrassed, I shake my head. “I sound nuts, but that’s what she does to me.”

“I, um…” she gulps. “That was beautiful, Evan. Does she know all that?”

“I tell her every chance I get.”

She looks me straight in the eyes and says, “You should tell your mother because I wouldn’t be sitting here if she understood how you really feel.”

My mother’s ploy to distract me from my girlfriend didn’t work. I can’t be tricked, tempted, threatened or lured because Mallory’s my soul mate; the other half of my heart, the missing puzzle piece…

“Evan?”

“Huh?”

“We’re here. Are you ready to go in?”

The car door opens, and I realize there’s a red carpet lined with photographers. Nina’s been too nice and it would be rude to make her walk it alone, so I decide to escort her inside. I pop out of the car right after her and offer her an arm. She smiles, taking hold of me, and we walk without stopping for photos.

When we enter the crowded lobby, I lift up on my feet to look for my family, but I don’t see them.

Nina releases my arm and says, “So I guess this is it.”

“Guess so.”

She sticks her hand out. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Evan.”

I take her hand and shake it. “You too.”

“Your girlfriend is a very lucky lady.”

“Thank you,” I reply, “but I’m the lucky one.”

With a smile, she walks away, and I head straight into the banquet to find my family.

When I spot their table, I head over. Lacey sees me first and turns her head in disgust, which gets Kate’s attention. She stands, hugs me tight, and whispers into my ear, “Play nice tonight, baby brother.”

I don’t bother whispering. “I came to play alright, but I won’t be playing nice.” I leave her standing there, her expression volleying between concern and curiosity.

I need to find my mother. Right. The. Fuck. Now.

When I turn around, I see her in the far corner near the bar surrounded by a group of women and stalk straight for her. I make my way through the crowded room ignoring the ‘Hello’s’ and the ‘Hey Evan’s’ I hear as I move across the room.

“Ashford? Over here.”

I turn to see Landon and Hamilton with smug grins on their faces. “Why’d you pussy out that night?”

For guys that are supposedly considered sophisticated, they sure are a bunch of wankers. I flip’em off and keep walking.

My mother eyes’ flash to mine as she continues into whatever story she’s feeding the envious junior league socialites around her. Although her mouth is smiling, her eyes give her away. She knows something’s wrong and I don’t bother hiding the fact that I’m pissed as hell.

Without stopping, I take her by the elbow and pull her out through some nearby doors that lead to the large balcony.

“What are you doing, Evan? Let go of me right now!” she protests.

Releasing her, I say, “No more, Mother! No. More.”

She sighs as if I’m throwing a childish temper tantrum. “What are you upset about?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Nina Devillier. The others. Your persistent interference in my life. The list goes on—”

“
Well
,” she says, huffing for added drama. “I’m so sorry that I have an interest in your future—”

“No, you have an obsession, but I’m not your puppet. You can’t flash pretty women in front of me like a squeaky toy for a dog. I’m not that stupid. You’ve made it more than clear who you’d like me attached to. Well, it’s not gonna happen. I’ll choose Mallory every damn time and the sooner you come to accept that the sooner we might be able to have a relationship again. But you’ve damaged us and that will take time no matter what.”

“Evan, please don’t do this. Look at how well you’ve done since you’ve been back in New York and that was when you weren’t even trying. You’re a natural. You were born to lead this company and if you put your heart into Ashford Holdings, you could have anything and any
one
you want—”

“That’s just it. My heart’s not in this. Yes, I’ll finish what I started and what I promised Dad, but I won’t stay on. I’m moving to Colorado after Christmas. I’m finishing my degree in Psychology and I’m going to be with Mallory. I’m not asking for your permission or holding out for your blessing. If you want to cut me off, go ahead, but I won’t let you control me any longer.”

I’ve said all I need to say, all she deserves to hear, so I turn on my heel and leave her standing there in the cold calling my name.

As I mindlessly work my way back through this crowd I could care less about, I realize everything I knew is true. This city will destroy me if I let it. I’ve got to get the fuck outta here as fast as I can. I push open the double doors and keep walking.

“Evan?
Evan?
Stop!” Kate calls from somewhere behind me. I don’t turn back and eventually her voice, like the music from the party, and the chatter of the crowd, fades away.

Thanksgiving came and went, uneventful and somewhat depressing. I didn’t feel thankful. I felt lonely. My resolve for Mallory was set. But the waiting to be with her again was wearing thin. I would’ve joined my family for dinner, but wasn’t in the mood for another lecture on family duty and future potential. Kate brought me a plate and Helga brought me a piece of pie, which was nice, but that was the extent of my celebration.

Black Friday.

The weight of the name alone hunkers down on me, so I go into the office and put in a full work day when everyone else is off. It keeps my mind occupied for at least 9 hours, providing a mental reprieve from when I’m at home alone.

After work, I go for a run. It’s become a normal part of my routine. It’s a chilly fall day, which suits my mood better. But the unwanted and unsolicited attention of the women here in Manhattan is exhausting. In other words, it’s hard to be faithful when opportunity is constantly presented to you on a silver platter. Even Central Park has become one giant pick-up joint.

Maybe it’s all of the attention or maybe I just want to feel closer to Mallory, but I end up in a jewelry store scanning the cases. The ring is only a deterrent. The words ramble around my head as I try to convince myself it’s not more than a preventative measure. But for some reason, I’m struggling to convince myself. I continue looking down at the rings on display, dragging my hand and leaving smudge marks across the sparkling clean glass.

“You look like you’re in need of some assistance,” a saleswoman whose nametag reads Becca says, leaning across the case a little too close for comfort or professionalism. “I would love to show you this new Tag Heuer Carrera watch. The leather is divine.” She rests the tips of her fingers on my wrist, stroking last years’ model Omega watch. “It would look incredible on your wrist, so manly and rugged.”

I quickly pull my arm away and look into her eyes. “I’m here for a ring.”

“Oh.” She reacts surprised, but happy. “Let me show you our collection of men’s rings in the case over there. We’ve got some lovely gentlemanly pieces—”

“No. I’m looking for a wedding band.”

“Oh,” she repeats, but not as chipper this time around as she buttons that pesky top button of her blouse that has apparently popped open of its own accord during our conversation. “Well, congratulations are in order then.” There’s no feeling behind her words.

“I’m not getting married. I just… well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Oh,” she says again. “Well, that’s an odd request, but I do
aim to please
.” She licks her lips not so subtly and slides her card across the top of the glass. Looking down, I see her cell number scribbled on it. “I would love to grab a drink sometime or maybe just get to the main event.” She winks as if she needs to clarify her intentions. I knew what she wanted the second she walked up.

“Listen—”

“Becca.”

“Okay,” I start again, “listen, Becca, I know that this,” I signal to her chest where the top button has miraculously popped open once again. “This must work well for you, but I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” And there she is with that damn
‘Oh’
again. “I can promise my name will be rolling off your tongue in pure ecstasy.”

“See,
‘Becca’
doesn’t roll off my tongue. It’s actually taking a lot of effort to get it out right now. But you know what does? Mallory.
Mallory
rolls off my tongue and sometimes gets sandwiched between an
‘Oh, God’
and a
‘Fuck’
because she’s that fucking good. So I need you to back off and find me a different salesperson.”

She turns abruptly on her high heels and mumbles, “Asshole.”

Thirty minutes later, I stroll out into the late autumn day with a new matte platinum band on my left ring finger. As I look at it reflecting in the low sun streaming through the gap of the buildings, I smile. Now this feels right.

A long, intense week of work later, I cross the street from Ashford Holdings and into the bar across the street. It’s run down, so it’s not crowded, which I prefer. Young, Wall Street types and tycoon wannabes wearing two-thousand dollar suits don’t hang out here. That’s why I’m here.

I order my usual two beers and a shot of whiskey, lining them up, then sip one at a time, pacing myself until I’m relaxed, the tension of the day disappearing.

It’s Thursday. 6:48 p.m. The door opens and out of habit, I turn my head. I’m not the least bit interested in the woman who enters the dark cavern I’ve escaped to, so I turn back to the bar and finish the shot knowing I’m gonna need it.

She sits down on the barstool next to me even though there are ten other lined up against the bar that she could’ve chosen. “Two shots of what he’s having,” she orders comfortably.

The bartender sets them down in front of her. Pointing to me, she adds, “He’s buying.”

The bartender looks at me and I nod, accepting the charge.

“I take it one of those is for me?” I ask already knowing the answer.

She slides the shot of whiskey over and taps her glass against mine, and we both drink, finishing the shot in one gulp.

“So you want to talk about it?” she asks me, angling her body toward me as if we’re going to share our inner demons. With a small hand gesture, she signals the bartender for another round.

“Not really,” I reply, bothered my sanctuary has been disturbed.

“I’m guessing you’re not coming to the Lancaster party tonight?”

“That would be a very good guess.” I know her well enough to know she’s going to start in on me if I don’t say more. “Don’t worry. I’ll be at the Ashford Gala next Friday.” I loosen my tie. “So, when did you start slumming it,
Mummy
?” I ask sarcastically.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her picking some imaginary fluff from her jacket. “I wanted to talk to you and for some reason this is where you choose to spend your spare time.”

“Then talk.”