Zenith Falling (3 page)

Why
did she keep returning there?
She sat in back of the room, saying nothing, engaging no one, and barely listening to anyone because of her hyper-awareness at being there at the Al-Anon meeting. She couldn’t believe she dared to come back. She said nothing. She did nothing. She didn’t even look around. She was not part of the group. But she was there all the same. And Nick wasn’t. She let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, if she were actually seen there by someone, it made it seem all the more real, which made her feel more accountable, and consequently, panic-stricken.

At long last, it was over. She got up quickly, trying to avoid hugs and welcomes from the strangers. She had her coat and purse over her shoulder and was out the door before the facilitator even quit talking. She walked out of the dingy hallway and into the evening.
She stopped dead. Nick Lassiter was standing against the building, not far from her car. He was dressed similar to what he wore last week. He straightened up when he spotted her. She didn’t know what to make of him standing there.
Was he waiting for her?
It was weird. And unwelcome. She walked up to him, making her steps heavy. She didn’t have the mental stamina to deal with such a situation.

“What are you doing here?” she practically demanded.

“Waiting.” Nick’s gaze skimmed over her. She almost asked if she hadn’t made it crystal clear that she was married.

“Why are you waiting?”

Nick glanced over the top of her head, towards the church door, then finally, back at her again. “My sister. I’m waiting for my sister, not for you.”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment
. Shit. His sister
. He was waiting for his sister,
not
her. “Oh. Your sister.”

He looked down at his watch. Which sister was Nick waiting for? Last week, it didn’t interest her in the least, she was so anxious to get away from him. But now… who was it? Nick was the oldest of five, and had four sisters. All of them looked to him for everything because their father died when they were rather young.

“You came back.”

Joelle swung her gaze back to Nick. “Yes. I guess. Kind of. I don’t think I really need to be here.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said, in a dismissive tone. That was her cue to leave. Was he anymore interested in making small talk with her, than she was with him? No, judging by the way he didn’t speak, and the way he shifted his weight on his legs, as he stared once more at the church.

She could leave. No problem. Just pretend
she and Nick Lassiter had never spoken in front of an Al-Anon meeting she was secretly attending.

But she stood there, looking at him, then turned away. Why?

He was someone with whom she never had a relationship, yet he was part of her history. He knew her when she was someone else. Someone different. Someone better.

And he had no connection to
Zenith
. Everything in her life was
connected to
Zenith.

“So… how is Trina?” Five years ago was the last time she saw her former best friend.

Nick shifted his gaze back to her, and surprise raised his eyebrows. His blue-gray eyes showed only mild interest in answering her. She flushed, and lowered her gaze.

“She’s fine. Married, with the first baby on the way. They just bought their first house in a little cul-de-sac, in the suburbs.”

“Oh,” Joelle said, temporarily at a loss for a brilliant retort. Or even an interesting comment. She could picture Trina’s life just as Nick described it. Normal. “Did you mention you ran into me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t think you wanted me mentioning
where
I bumped into you.”

“Thank you,” Joelle said, softly. Her voice always dropped when she was nervous,
or unsure, and Nick Lassiter made her very nervous. “Who are you waiting for then?”

“Rebecca. This neighborhood scares her, so a friend drops her off and I pick her up and drive her to my mother’s for the night.”

“Then why did she pick this neighborhood?” Joelle looked around; never having really considered it such a bad neighborhood. Sure, there were some seedy taverns, and a few prostitutes hanging out here and there, but not exactly what she would call a “bad” neighborhood.

“Rebecca is a writer. She’s doing research for her next book. Claims this is exactly the neighborhood she needs.”

“She comes here to study people? People who spill their hearts out to others? Who they think share their same problems? That doesn’t seem right.”

Nick frowned with a shrug. “Yea
h, I guess that’s just what she’s doing. Not my call. She just asked me to pick her up. It’s always dark by the time the meetings end, and it bothers her, so here I am.”

Joelle became miffed. It was lousy for som
eone to sit like a voyeur at these meetings, although she still wasn’t exactly sure what a person was supposed to get from them. All the same,  she didn’t think observing the members, while remaining unbeknownst to them, was right.

A small, cute woman, with red hair in a trim suit approached them.
Rebecca
. Had to be. No wonder the neighborhood scared her. Joelle glanced down at herself and realized why she wasn’t bothered by it. Quite simply, she looked like she was one of the people who lived in this neighborhood.

Nick waved a
hand at his sister, and clicked his key chain as his dark sports car chirped and lit up. He glanced at Joelle again.

“That’s my sister.” He started to turn,
but stopped as his gaze landed on her. What was in his eyes? Pity? Concern? “Hope things go your way. Bye, Joelle.” Nick walked to his fancy car where his little sister slid into the passenger seat. Another time, Rebecca would have known just who Joelle was. Another time, even Joelle would have been scared of everything, neighborhoods like this included. Now, however, she seemed part of it.

H
eat once more filled her face and made her body uncomfortably warm. She accused Nick of waiting for her! How could she think someone like Nick would somehow be attracted to someone like
her
? He was a suit. To him, she must look like a freak. She wasn’t, but she could see where he might have thought so. Not exactly an ideal match. He was probably telling Rebecca right now about the stupid, freaky girl who had the conceit and nerve to think
he
was waiting for her. No wonder his demeanor seemed so much colder, and almost disinterested.

Now, hadn’t she had enough? Two weeks in a row, and she still couldn’t
articulate why she was there or what she hoped it would do for her. So she didn’t need to be there. Right? That had to be right.

She kept returning to the church, and those meetings. She wasn’t sure why, or what she hoped to gain, but she kept going. She didn’t know what else to do. She was drowning in her life under feelings of hopelessness, Rob’s drinking problem, his moods, and his total lack of understanding anything she was going through. Attending the meetings seemed like something she could do, and something she controlled, although she kept it completely to herself.

She ran into Nick a half dozen
more times. With no more conversation than hello, their eyes met for only a brief moment before Nick would look over her head, or off to the side, or blatantly down at his watch. He seemed to avoid lingering around her, or talking to her. She had obviously offended him, and he probably did not like her assuming that he had any interest in her. What a laugh.

Why then, did her blood race whenever his gaze caught hers? It must have been because she hated knowing Nick saw her at these meetings. Didn’t it? That had to be the reason; because nothing else explained her physical reaction to a man she barely knew.

He made no move to come over and talk to her again. Naturally, he didn’t pursue pointless conversations with her that would have only made them both totally uncomfortable. What could he, a white-collar worker, with megabucks and nice clean suits, possibly have to say to her? And vice versa?

Each week, Nick quietly stood near the door of the old church, waiting for his siste
r. It was kinda sweet, if she didn’t find Rebecca’s reason for being there so wrong.

Joelle
was always the first one out of the meetings, still trying to avoid talking to anyone, and only sitting in there quietly. She hoped to be unseen, so she always left first. And even though she expected to find Nick out there, standing casually, quietly, and unmoving against the church, she always faltered in her steps. Her blood flow raced and she had to force herself to raise her eyes to his, just to say the simple hello that the situation required. She was an idiot. She couldn’t say why exactly, but he invariably made her feel uncomfortable and very aware of her own differences to him.

She’d grown rather used to the more secular reaction she elicited. The neighborhood where she lived and worked, fit right into her looks and style. Only once in a
while, when she ventured out of her box, her neighborhood, or ran to the mall, for example, into the world of soccer moms and middle class Americans, did she notice the startled looks, the stares, and the prissier observers who gave her a wide berth. She usually reveled in being different, being unique, and being herself. Even at the meetings, she didn’t look odd or stand out. There, all modes of style and dress were equally represented.

But with Nick… it was different. He was so well put together, and his class and money were just a part of the overall confident air he possessed. Yet, he never reacted to her, and hadn’t from their first meeting. His polite hello was like any he’d give to his little sister’s old friends. But still, Joelle felt intensely self-conscious around him. Her hair lay heavier against her skull, and her tattoos seemed brighter than usual. It was if her body piercings were multiplying under his eyes. She chided herself for having such a stupid reaction. Like looking to a parent for approval and being afraid you weren’t going to get it. She didn’t need, want or expect his approval or interest in
her
. So why then was she so nervous and aware of
him
? She was always glad to get into her car, and start it, despite her embarrassment at its screeching and knocking as it chugged and gurgled to life. Each time, it sounded less and less like it could stay alive for another moment, let alone the twenty-mile drive home.

This went on for two months, but nothing changed in her life. The meetings didn’t make her dealings with Rob any better. They didn’t bring back the old magic of being with the band, or wanting the band to succeed. Even listening to Rob’s voice didn’t send that thrill down her spine that it used to. She couldn’t shake the stomachaches, the fatigue, or the general malaise and anxiety. The phone was soon shut off, and the garbage piled up in huge stacks after no payment was received. Joelle asked Mitch and Kenny to cover those bills, and as usual, they didn’t bother to pay them.
She could rely on no one, but herself.

Despite her exhaustion, she faithfully attended the meetings. She was unable to articulate why she went, when she remained convinced it wasn’t doing anything for her, but still, she went. Desperate for anything that might help her, comfort her, or ease her life, she refused to tell anyone. Not Rob, not Spike, no one. The only person who really knew she was reaching out for something different and new, and some kind of help, was Nick Lassiter.

Joelle’s car turned over three times, then sputtered and died. The next time she tried it, the response was a click and nothing more. She slumped down on the seat and shut her eyes.
No. Not tonight.
She was tired and wanted to go home. She couldn’t call Rob because she was parked right in front of her Al-Anon meeting. How could she explain why she was there? As far as Rob knew, she worked late every Wednesday evening. She doubted he even realized it was consistently on Wednesday evenings that she came home late. He rarely kept track of time the way most people did. It could be a Monday or a Saturday, a work week or a vacation, but it simply didn’t apply to Rob or his thought processes. He didn’t care what day it was, what month it was, and probably wouldn’t even know.

Joelle glanced around. The parking lot was nearly empty. Nick had pulled out before she even tried her car. His car instantly started and was purr
ing like a new kitten: smooth, harmonious, continuous. Not like the roaring, unstable beast she was relegated to driving.

She leaned her head down over the steering wheel, too spent to know what to do next. Discouragement overcame her, definitely way out of proportion to the situation, but it overcame her all the same. Tears burned her eyes.
When she glanced up, she saw Nick was closing the door on his car, and walking over towards her. Startled, she stared at him stupidly for a protracted moment. Why was he walking towards her? Where was Rebecca? She didn’t know and couldn’t fathom why he would approach her. She shook herself, opened the car door, and got out as he stopped a few paces from her.

“What are you doing back here?” Joelle asked him.

“I drive past here after I drop Rebecca at my mom’s. Saw your car still here. Got a problem?”

“Yeah. My car won’t start.”

“I find it more surprising that it started every other time.”

She looked away from his little smile
of humor, embarrassed. When she lifted her gaze once again she found his blue-gray eyes were still studying her. She immediately dropped her gaze to the pavement. Why couldn’t she look him in the eye comfortably? But she knew why; he intimidated the living shit out of her. “I think the alternator gave out. It’s been needing a new one for a while now.”

“Among other things. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

What? Now? What could she do? Leave her car here? How could she explain that? She didn’t want Rob to know where she went on Wednesdays. Her shoulders slumped; as the decision loomed and seemed too big for her to answer. She closed her eyes.

“Joelle? Are you all right?”

His tone was gentle… even… and quiet. Tears burned behind her eyelids, and she squeezed them tightly to keep them from falling. She dared not cry in front of Nick Lassiter.

But,
feeling unable to find the wherewithal to lie and say she was just fine, as she should have, she knew Nick already was aware of why she came here. He had to have figured out that something was very wrong with her life. She opened her eyes, and her tears slipped over her lower lids. She stared at the pavement. Her shoulders slumped, and her posture nearly collapsed. Finally, she just shook her head. He waited a moment before saying, “You can’t stand here all night.”

“I don’t know what to do
,” she whispered, completely defeated.

“I’ll give you a ride, and we’ll get your car towed to a garage.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“I can. What else are you going to do?”

“Call my husband,” she said, her tone sounding weak even to her own ears.

“The husband who doesn’t know you come here? And you’d like to keep it that way if your posture is any indication.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t think that you would be so upset if you’d been parked in front of the grocery store.”

“Fine. So I don’t want my husband to know I’m here. He wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“But you are here.”

“Yes, I’m here.”

Quiet descended between them again, until finally, he sighed. “You want to go get some coffee? You can’t just stand here all night. It’s starting to rain.”

She didn’t answer.

“Come on. You can’t stay here all night. And now, I can’t leave you stranded here. You have to do something.”

She nodded, wiping at her face. “Okay.”

She grabbed her belongings from her car
and slid into the passenger side of Nick’s low, humming luxury wheels. The seat felt like melted butter, the leather, soft and smooth, and the smell of new car tickled her nostrils. She had no doubts the price of his car could pay for her whole house.

His car started with the loyal predictability she now longed for more than almost anything else. His car radio had perfect clarity, the interior was toasty from his working heater, and the engine sounded like the soft chanting of a choir. Nick’s long frame filled up the driver’s seat, which he had pushed all the way back to accommodate his mile-long legs. His wrist sported a shiny watch that twisted as he shifted the car int
o reverse. His long coat opened and bunched on the material of his gray suit jacket. With one last glance at her, he shifted the car into gear and accelerated as smoothly as he did everything else. Especially fixing her problems. They drove in silence, and the car’s interior was filled with tension. She clasped her legs together, and pulled her coat tighter. God, she had never been in a car like this. She feared the chain she had hanging off her leather coat might scratch the seat’s plushness.

He kept his eyes glued to the road, only moving now and then to shift a gear,
and rested his wrist over the steering wheel with his fingers hanging loose. He pulled into a nearby coffee shop, and she followed him in and waited while he ordered coffee for both of them. He sat down at a table, looking out towards the dark night and the lights of the strip mall, illuminating the gloom and cold. He watched her take her coat off, hang it on the chair, sit down, cross her legs, and lean her elbows on the table around her cup of hot coffee. What did he see though?

Seeming
to stare right through her, he obviously noticed her tattoos and facial piercings and couldn’t have missed her blue hair. He sensed she had little fashion savvy, but buried herself by hiding behind too much black and extra large sizes. However, Nick never showed any reaction, positive or negative, to her. He seemed to see her only as Trina’s old best friend, the girl who used to stay up all the night, giggling with his little sister.

Her tongue probed the inside of her upper lip, as his eyes zeroed in on her. Astounded, she quickly stopped, appalled at both herself
and him, and tucked her arms closer to her sides. He finally looked over her head again. Why did he keep doing that? He would look at her, almost staring for a long moment, and then shift his gaze to some random spot over her head. Did she repulse him that much?

“Your car is shit. You shouldn’t drive it anymore.”

She looked up, startled by his tone, sensing anger laced in his voice.

“I can’t afford anythi
ng better right now. When I’m in the city I take the bus a lot.”

“You’ve got to do something.”

“I realize that, Nick,” she said his name, and a jolt went through her. It seemed so casual, and much more familiar to say it out loud, than it did in her head.

“I’m going to have it towed and fixed,” he announced without a
sking her, or revealing the slightest trace of a smile. His gaze zeroed in on her again.

“I can’t afford that.”

“I can.”

So smooth, so eas
y. His gaze focused on something over her head.

“I can’t let you do that. I won’t let you do that.”

“Yeah? And what else are you going to do? From what I gather, no one else can know where it is currently.”

“You can’t just pay for my car. I don’t really even know you.”

He grunted. “You were my kid sister’s best friend for years. It’s not like I picked you up out of nowhere.”

“But I’m a stranger now. You don’t know anything about me.”

“No, I don’t,” he said, studying her. Why did he keep doing that? Was she that freaky-looking to him that he couldn’t get enough? “I also know that you don’t want anyone to discover where you go on Wednesdays; and you need help right now, here, tonight. I can help you.”

She blinked as tears filled her eyes. Why didn’t Rob, ever, even once, offer to help her? She took in a deep breath.

“It’s not as if I’m asking you to give up your firstborn to me. You can pay me back.”

She gulped down the obstructive lump in her throat.
“You’re really offering to do this? How do you know I’ll pay it back? And that I won’t skip out and leave you paying the bill?”

“I don’t.” Unflinching, his gaze stayed on her.

She didn’t know what to make of his candid answers, or his blunt observations of her situation. “You’re really willing to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over the chair next to him. Casual. Easy. His coat opened to
reveal the red tie he wore with the gray shirt. She stared too long. There was something strangely sexy about the way his clothes fit him, how well put together he was.

“Why
what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Because I saw you crying, stranded in a parking lot, late at night, in a less than desirable neighborhood. What else could I do? Leave you there?”

She slouched in her chair, closing her eyes, once again feeling sadly reminded of who
and what she’d become. She was such a loser. And now even Nick knew it too. She opened her eyes. “You can afford this?”

His lip twitched, and his voice was deadpan serious. “Yes. It’s not an issue for me.”

She looked down. His car, his clothes, his watch, even his haircut broadcasted wealth, class, and a successful life.

She licked her lips and finally nodded. “I promise I’ll pay back every cent, just as soon as I can. Thank you so much.”

He pulled out a BlackBerry that looked cutting edge new, and scrolled through until he located the number he wanted. He had the phone to his ear and was already talking before she realized he called a tow truck and took care of her car in less than three minutes flat, while she sat there feeling useless, broke, and like an incapable child.

Joelle clutched the warm coffee in her hands. She hated this: not having the ability to take care of such a simple, everyday expense.
And feeling forced to allow a stranger to handle it for her. She was now indebted to him. After he finished talking, he set his phone down, and looked at her, slouched in her chair, with her arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s being towed to the shop my company uses for all our vehicle re
pairs. They’ll fix it in a hurry.”

She nodded. So quickly and easily, he had it taken care of. She glanced at him in awe.
There was an amused smile tempting his lips, and she glared harder at him.

“You still take care of all your sisters like this too?”

“Yes. As well as my twelve nieces.”

“Your what?” Joelle asked, nearly burning her mouth by gulping her coffee.

“Yeah, wouldn’t you think one of them would be a boy? Sophie has five, Carrie has four, Rebecca has two, and Trina’s about to have the last.”

“Another girl?”

“What else?”

“That’s a lot of kids. Really? They’re all girls?”

“Yes. It’s ridiculous.”

“How far along is Trina?”

“Four months or so. She’s excited. Just quit her job last week.”

“She’s going to stay at home?”

“Yes. All of them do. Except Rebecca, she writes. Although I don’t believe she has any real plans to pursue it as far as publishing or anything. I think it’s more for her personal pleasure.”

“They all can afford to not work?”

He nodded. “Sophie’s husband is a manager, Carrie’s is a tech guy, Rebecca’s works in imports/exports, and Trina’s is an accountant.”

“All of them successful then?”

“Yes.”

“And you? What do you do? How many kids do you have? As the oldest, you’ve had more time to get four or five of your own
, haven’t you?” Joelle’s sarcasm bit sharply. But what family looked as good on paper as his? Four daughters, now all mothers, staying at home with successful husbands? They probably all had matching houses and white picket fences.

“None for me. My sisters and my nieces keep me busy enough.”

“Oh? What is it you do?”

“I work for a computer company.”

Joelle glanced at his car. Right… just a computer company.

Silence again descended. She swallowed, and hesitated before asking, “How did you recognize me? Rebecca used to braid my hair, and sneak junk food for Trina and me when I spent the night; but now, she looks right through me, totally avoiding me because I make her so uncomfortable. If she couldn’t
recognize me, how did you manage to?”