It's A Crime (3 page)

“Okay, I’m going to the gym
and bringing in Chinese. Keep your phone with you in case you need me. MAKE SURE IT’S CHARGED!”

“
I will, I will. I’ll call you if I need you to come and rescue me.” Laughing out loud, I assured her, “I’m going to try to get this over with as soon as I can. Hopefully he won’t cause a scene. We’re meeting at DiMaios. I figure if it is a public place, he will act like a gentleman. Well, as much as he is capable of.” That got a loud chuckle out of Michelle. Jonathan was many things, a gentleman not one of them. “I have to tell you, Michelle, my nerves are shot. I’ll see you at home.”

“Be careful.
Love you,” she said sounding anxious.

“
Love you too.”

I hung up.
Signed off on a couple of invoices. After writing a few checks, I shut down my computer and grabbed my coat. I put my cell in my bag, 20% charged.
Shit,
It’ll have to do.

As Karen was walking in, I was rushing out.

“Call me if you have any issues,” I said over my shoulder.  “I will probably go straight home, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Be gentle with him
,” she called after me, smiling.

Yeah, my thought exactly…

Chapter 2

I stepped outside and was immediately
assailed by a cold breeze. I hailed a cab and getting into the back seat told the driver DiMaios on 2
nd
Avenue. I was surprised my stomach hurt so much; must be tension. Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of DiMaios. I immediately saw Jonathan standing at the bar through the wall of glass, surrounded by women, as usual. He watched as I walked in and shrugged off my coat, then picked up his drink and crossed to where I stood.

“
Hello, beautiful. Here, give me your coat.” He even made that sound distastefully fake. He grabbed my coat from my arm and hung it on the coat rack. I slung my pocketbook over my shoulder and followed the greeter to our table.

I
’m not one to mince words, but Jonathan is an overly intense man. He’s extraordinarily handsome and uses his fame and good looks to get him what he wants and thinks he needs. I admit I was attracted to his looks, as was every woman who saw him, but he was sweet when I first met him. That sweetness faded. I caught him
in flagrante
with another model. My pride took a hit, but we were never really close, so outwardly I had to let it slide. Inwardly I couldn’t avoid the rejection he dealt me. What did this chick have that I didn’t?

H
aving eye candy at the ready to escort me out to dinner and clubs was nice. However, of late, he was smothering me, his way of trying to make up for his indiscretion, and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and just plain tired of his shit.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?
Sounded urgent.”

I looked up to see our waiter walking over.

“Hello folks, what can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a Martini, dry, olives
, stirred please,” I answered.

He looked at Jonathan and waited for his order.

“I’ll have another one of these.” Jonathan held up his glass, the ice clinking as he shook it. “And can you bring two menus, I’m hungry.”

“A gin and tonic.
Yes sir. I’ll be back with your drinks and the menus in a minute.” He walked away and as soon as he was out of hearing range, I took a deep breath and gathered my courage.

“Yeah
...listen…Jonathan, this is not easy for me to say, but I feel this relationship isn’t going in the direction I hoped. I don’t know what you want anymore.” I paused. “I think it would be better if we broke this off, for both of us.”

There, I got it out.
I looked up to see him staring at me…intensely. His blue eyes turned cold and dark with his building anger. It was always easy to tell when he was angry, his face reddened and his eyes darkened. Not pleasant look at all, but he still managed to look perfectly handsome even then.

“If this is about that girl, she really didn’t mean a thing,
it was just sex, we fucked, that’s all. It’s not like we were solid…you, me, we were off and on and...”

I raised my hand
, stopping him midsentence.

“No,
it has nothing to do with you and your fucking whore. This may sound like a cliché, but I just don’t have feelings for you. I need a break. I want to be on my own.”

He continued to star
e at me.  A look of disbelief crossed his face followed by a look I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him before. I think it was hatred. It flashed quickly across his features then disappeared.

The waiter
walked to the table with our drinks and placed them down as well as two menus. Jonathan leaned back in his chair, seething. The chair moaned with the force of his muscular weight.

“Give us a minute
,” he spat out. The waiter quickly turned and walked away. He couldn’t walk fast enough to get away from us.

Jonathan
slowly leaned in toward me. The heat of his breath brushed my face, tinged with the smell of alcohol.

“
The fucking Princess…” he paused, “you fucking cunt. You think you’re fucking perfect. Everyone has to jump for you. You can’t let shit go. She meant nothing. But you can’t fucking let it go.” The venom in his voice caused goose bumps to rise on my arms and neck.

My fig
ht or flight response kicked in, fight being the dominant of the two.

“You are an arrogant jackass.
I couldn’t care less about the fucking whore you slept with. I want nothing to do with
you
.
You!
Is that so hard for you to believe? I’m not some stupid slut vying for your fucking attention.” I lifted my drink up tossed it back, draining the contents. I slammed my glass down on the table, stood up and looked right at him—directly into those cold, evil-looking eyes. “Stay the fuck away from me. I was trying to be civil with you but you are a fucking psycho.”

I
pulled my pocketbook off the back of my chair with such force the chair fell over.  Reaching in I grabbed a fifty-dollar bill out and tossed it on the table, then quickly walked away, stopping only to grab my coat, slipping it on as I walked out the door. I took a deep breath, letting the cold crisp air clear my head and releasing the tension that had been building up inside me.

Wanting to put
space between me and
psycho-boy
, I walked to the curb and hailed a cab. One pulled over immediately and I climbed into the back, giving the cabbie my address.

A
s we pulled away, I looked back at the restaurant to see Jonathan with his back leaning against the bar. Even behind the glass I was able to see the hatred on his face. A chill ran up my spine.

Crazy s
on-of-a-bitch.

As I
arrived in front of my apartment building, Tony, my doorman, opened the taxi door and assisted me out.

“Hello
, Tony.”

“Miss Preston.”
He tipped his hat. “Any packages today?”

“No, had
no time to shop today.” I managed a weak smile.

As
Tony opened the building door for me I turned to him. “Tony, Mr. Kaplan is no longer on my guest list. Please remove his name right away, and let Joe know as well. Thank you.”

“Yes, Miss Preston.
Is everything okay?”

“
I guess you can say I had enough.”

He looked at me and an
understanding look flashed across his face. It was no secret Tony did not like Jonathan. Jonathan was a rude man.

“Miss Preston
.” He tapped his hat.

“
Thank you, Tony. You rock.”

I caught his smile as
I turned and walked to the elevator bank. When the elevator arrived, I pushed the PH button and entered my code. As the elevator whisked me up to the top floor, I shook off my meeting with Jonathan, surprised my hands were still shaking. The doors opened and I stepped out into the hallway. There were two Penthouse apartments, one mine and one Michelle’s. The top floor had been so huge when I bought the original space that I had the floor plan rearranged to configure the tremendous space into two large apartments. I took one and literally forced Michelle into the other.

The painters had
Michelle’s apartment door opened and I looked in to gauge their progress. The smell of fresh paint wafted toward me, causing my nose to wrinkle with dislike. The new color looked great though.

“H
ey, how much longer will I have my roommate?” I asked the bald portly man in white paint-spattered overalls.

“Should be finishing up shortly
, miss. Will be done tomorrow afternoon.”

“Cool.”

I turned, stepping out of Michelle’s apartment, and walked down the hall to my door. I entered my alarm code, unlocked the door and stepped inside. I was unhappy the smell of paint followed me in.

I threw my coat and
pocketbook on the bench by the front door and walked into the kitchen to wash my hands. Opening the fridge, I grabbed the bottle of champagne I opened last night. I reached into the cabinet and took down a flute then poured myself a glass. I downed it as quickly as I could, reveling in the tiny bubbles rushing down my throat. I poured another glass. The tension ebbed and I finally began to relax. I put the bottle back into the fridge and grabbed my pocketbook on the way to my bedroom.

I took my cell out and
plugged it into the charger on my bedside table, quite proud I even remembered to charge it at all.

Standing
in front of the mirror, I stared at the face reflected back at me. I looked tired. My blue eyes, too large for my face, stared blankly at me. I reached up and pulled out the clips holding my hair up. Golden waves immediately cascaded over my shoulders and back. I dragged my fingers through it, feeling the mass of knots clustered throughout. I grabbed the brush from the dresser and pulled it though my hair, tugging at the knots.

I
looked down and stared at my body reflected in the mirror. I was for the most part happy with what I saw. My only complaint was that my breasts were too big. I liked that I was tall. I liked my long legs and narrow hips. However, being the fashion nut and total clothes junkie I was, finding clothing that looked good on me was definitely not easy, and high fashion didn’t look good on women with big breasts.
High fashion was created for the flat chested,
I thought with a sigh.

I put the brush dow
n, pulled my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head and made my way to the shower. Suddenly I felt a need to wash after meeting with Jonathan. Relief flooded over me as the soap and water washed me clean. After I got out and dried off, I unplugged my cell and dialed Michelle.

“Hey, where are you?”
I asked. It was noisy. Bar noisy.

“I’m in Luke’s.” She answer
ed. She asked me to hold on while she went outside where she could hear me better. “I got a call from Jeff and decided not to go to the gym. Big mistake. Ended up having a huge fight. What about you? How’d it go? You okay?”

“
I’m glad it’s over. I’ll tell you about it when I see you,” I replied. “What’s up Jeff’s ass?”

“I believe he is menstruating
,” she countered.

“Funny.
Want company? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Hell yeah, I’ll order you a glass of wine
and you can fill me in.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes
. I’ve got to get dressed.”

I hung up and threw on my favorite pair of Diesel jeans, a white
V-necked tee and my Dolce and Gabbana leather jacket. I grabbed my Frye riding boots from the closet and pulled them on, struggling to get my heels in place. I picked up my Prada bag and threw my wallet and cell inside it. I rushed into to the bathroom and reapplied my makeup, shoving the cosmetic case into the bag as well, never one to go out with the tools for a quick touch-up.  I called down to Tony and asked him to get me a cab. The cab was waiting for me when I exited the building a few minutes later.