Book Bitch (12 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Expecting to have this encounter at a restaurant, I was surprised when the taxi pulled up in front of a sizable house in Nassau County, just beyond the Queens border.

“Welcome to Manhasset,” Rebecca said. “Home of the wealthy and snobby.”
Her tone was bitter. She turned in the seat. “Remember, you’re best bet is to stay neutral. I’m sure there will be some hurtful things said. Just be there for moral support, okay? I’ve never had anyone in my corner before. I’ve always had to deal with them one-on-one, never together. Having you there will give me more courage to stand up to them.”

I lifted her hand and kissed it. She smiled.

The car pulled into a circular drive in front of a Mediterranean style house, which seemed more like a mansion to me. My one bedroom apartment could fit inside three or more times. When we stopped, I got out and walked around to Rebecca’s side of the car. I extended my hand and helped her out. She paid the driver and he thanked her before leaving.

We stood on the gravel driveway while Rebecca
inhaled and exhaled a few times. I took her hand. She squeezed it, but then let go. Too bad all of those rumormongers couldn’t see Rebecca now. They’d quickly rescind the nickname Book Bitch if they saw her like this, so vulnerable and apprehensive.

“I’m fine. Really.” She smiled, but I wasn’t convinced. She
took a deep breath before she began her walk toward the front door. I admired the view as I followed. I made a mental note to tell her how amazing the dress looked from behind as well.

Once up the two small, slate steps, she took another breath and held it
this time. Her long, slender hand reached out to ring the doorbell. A few seconds went by. It seemed like an eternity. The door pulled back into the house. The glow of a soft light from behind the woman in the doorway obstructed my view. Squinting to adjust my vision, I could see she was attractive for an older woman. Approximately the same height as Rebecca, she had a slender build, and was nicely dressed. Brown curls draped over her shoulders. And her eyes were wide, just like Rebecca’s.

“Hello, Mother,” Rebecca said.

Mother?! Wait, did I miss something?

“Becky, how wonderful to see you. You look well.
What a pretty dress.”

“I am. Thank you.”

The woman backed up into the house to allow us entry. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you. Mother, this is Alex Ryan, my new protégé.”

Rebecca’s mother smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ryan.”

“Alex,” I corrected. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” Now I had to figure out why Rebecca’s mother was
hosting the meeting between Chester Martin and Donovan Richards. Perhaps she was a friend of theirs as well.

I
trailed Rebecca into the house. We walked through a dimly lit hallway with professional family portraits in ornate frames arranged on the wall across from the staircase. In each of the photographs a stoutly posed family of five - mother, father, two girls and a boy – hung in a row. As we walked further into the hallway, the members in the pictures matured, indicating that the portrait was an annually chronicled event. By the time we had gotten to the end of the foyer, the light coming from the room it emptied into illuminated the faces of the figures in the portraits. I recognized Rebecca as the older daughter. The woman seated in the chair was the same woman who let us in, and… Donovan Richards was the man standing behind the family. What the…?

I looked at Rebecca, but she faced forward until the hallway let out into a large family room. Donovan Richards was seated in a maroon, leather wingback chair. A crystal
glass with a brown liquid was cradled in his hand. Across from him was Chester Martin III, holding his own brown liquid in a matching tumbler.

Donovan ju
mped up from his chair. “Becky, how nice of you to come. I’m so glad you were able to rearrange your schedule to join us.”

Rebecca walked over to Chester and they hugged and kissed as they had done during lunch the day before. When she turned toward Donovan she sneered and said, “Donovan.
I can’t stay. We have other arrangements.”

“Ah, Mr. Ryan. So good to see you again,” Martin said.

I reached over and shook his hand. “Mr. Martin.”

“Please, call me Chester. I feel as if we’re old friends already.”

“Won’t you sit down?” Donovan held open his palm to offer Rebecca and I seats on the maroon, leather couch. I sat next to her, close enough for my leg to touch hers but not close enough to give away how involved Rebecca and I were, in case they were watching, and I’m sure they were paying close attention. Honestly, it drove me crazy not to touch her.

“So let’s begin, shall we?” Donovan said.

“Lets,” Rebecca snapped. “I’d like to know what this is all about.”

Atta girl, don’t waste time. Cut to the chase.

Chester began. “Rebecca, I assure you that the deal you and I are working on is secure.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Chester. What
I’d like to know is what Donovan has to do with it? This deal is between you and I only. If that’s a problem for you, I can stop Jayne from drafting our end of the contract. You are not my only offer, Chester. I gave you first consideration because you’re a friend of the family.”

Rebecca sat back in the couch. Her long, shapely legs extended in front of her.

Chester donned a phony smile. “Rebecca, Rebecca. I would never dream of jeopardizing our arrangement.” Both Martin and Donovan focused their attention on her, with their gaze traveling up her leg. I knew what they were thinking. I’m a man, too. It made me angry. Then Martin began. “I thought maybe you’d like to reconsider having Donovan join us. That way our union would most certainly become the largest in the country. Who could compete with three powerhouses merged into one?’

Rebecca smiled. It was her Book Bitch smile. I had seen it infrequently over the past two weeks, but I recognized it from the four years worth of staff meetings and hosting events working at Stratford Literary. “I’m sorry Chester. That’s not an option for me. I simply cannot work with Donovan.”

“Is it because of what I did to you, Becky?” Donovan said.

Rebecca’s head snapped toward Donovan. “Don’t call me that
anymore.”

His smug expression made the bile in my stomach rise into my throat. My fists clenched in my lap.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I know you’re still angry with me for what I did. Truly I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t mean to hurt you now. Think of what a great opportunity this can be for us.”

Rebecca slid to the edge of the couch
, careful not to have her skirt rise any higher than it was. “Get this straight, Donovan, there is no us for anything. Not business, not family, not your twisted perverted fantasy of bedding me. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Do you understand?” She turned in the couch to face Chester. “Perhaps this was my error. It is obvious that your friendship with Donovan is getting in the way of our business arrangement. I will contact my office and withdraw my proposal. That will free you up to make arrangements with Donovan.” Rebecca stood up. She looked at each man. “Have a good evening, gentleman.”

I stood as she began to leave the room. I said nothing as I followed her. She walked straight throu
gh the hallway with the portraits and toward the front door. Rebecca’s mother ran to catch us before we left.

“Becky!”

Rebecca stopped, turned, and looked at her mother. Her skin was pink with agitation.

“Becky, you don’t come to visit me any more. Come into the kitchen. I’ll make us a pot of tea.” She looked at me. “Then I can get to know your friend, Alex.”

“Not tonight, Mother. We’ll meet for lunch. That way I can talk you into leaving that filthy jerk you’re married to.” Rebecca walked out of the house without saying good-bye.              

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Richards,” I said leaving just after Rebecca.

As I chased Rebecca, Mrs. Richards called out, “Please tell her to call me.”

Chapter Fifteen

Rebecca marched down the hard pavement, as fast as her four-inch stilettos would allow.

“Rebecca, wait,” I called, hoping she’d stop, or a
t least slow down. She halted mid-step. Her head hung. I grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t start up again as I tried to catch my breath. “Are you all right?” I searched her face. Tears streaked her cheeks.

“I knew he’d mess it up for me. I’m just so
angry. And that fucking Chester, I should have known he’d do something sneaky. I can’t trust anyone.”

I pulled her toward me and wrapped my arms around her. I was still unsure of what was happening. T
here were too many revelations and surprises for one day. My brain was spinning. I pulled my cell phone from my jacket pocket and called the car service. Then I took my jacket off and put it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said between sobs.
              I kissed the top of her head. We stood and waited for the car to come. “Why is this happening to me?”

I didn’t answer.

“You don’t have to spare my pride. You can tell me what an idiot I am.”

“I can’t say anything
,” I said. “I don’t even know what’s happening. All I know is that I just found out that you were thinking of expanding with one of the wealthiest men on the west coast. It turns out that he’s an old friend of your biggest rival, who also happens to be your stepfather, and the asshole who hurt you when you were young. It’s a lot to take in.”             

“I’m sorry. I should have told you
.” More tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ve just never been good with trusting others with my personal business. And I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“You didn’t have to give me
their shoe sizes, but a little information would have been helpful before I had to sit and witness that attack on you, and not be able to help. I wanted to crack him across the jaw. And, it’s going to take a lot more than that to scare me away.”

Her body tensed. She pulled away from me. “I don’t need your help.”

“So what? I’m supposed to feel good about just standing there and watching those men assault you like that?”

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, I see. Is that why you’re standing out here, looking absolutely amazing in that dress, and crying your eyes out?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped. “You think I look amazing in this dress?”

“I think you look amazing in whatever you wear, particularly if it’s my tee shirt with nothing underneath.”

She smiled.

There was enough light from the street lamp up the block for her to see how serious I was. I looked into her eyes. “Rebecca, all of this has happened so quickly. I’ve never been involved with someone like you. I’m trying to get used to all of it – the business, the protégé status, the crazy lunches, the amazing sex, the secret expansion plans, and the dickhead stepfathers. But if I’m going to continue to spend time with you, you have to let me in a little.”

She studied my face, absorbing the weight of my words. She nodded.

In an attempt to shift her mood, I held her tightly to my chest. “Now, I’d like to take you out for dinner so that the whole world can envy me being with you in that amazing dress.”

Through a sniffle she nodded.

“So that’s a yes?” I asked.

“Yes.”

We waited a few more minutes and the car service arrived. Rebecca was quiet the entire ride back to the city. We managed to get a table at a swank restaurant mid-town near the office. We enjoyed a lovely meal, during which we kept to the topics of work and how beautiful the scenery in the restaurant was. We hailed another cab to her apartment. She fell asleep on the ride home, waking just as we pulled up in front of her building. I paid the driver and carried her through the double glass doors. The lobby man summoned the elevator for us. When we got to her front door, I nudged her awake. “Sorry. I don’t want to invade your purse for your keys.”

She opened the little black
purse and pulled out the keys. I opened the door and carried her inside. I kicked the door closed and she flipped the lock. I brought her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. As gently as I could, I removed her shoes and pulled the cover up from the opposite side and draped it over her. Then I went out to the living room and stretched out on the couch.

***

Light kisses brushed my forehead. My eyes fluttered open. I was lying faced down on the couch. Rebecca was sitting on the floor next to me.

“Hi,” she said in a coy whisper.

I smiled. “Hi.”

“You fell asleep
on the couch.”

I looked around. “Yeah. I didn’t want to leave you alone while you were so upset last night.”

“You could have slept in the bed with me.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react to that.”

She raked her fingers through my hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

I laughed. “No, I don’t deserve you.”

She smiled. “Come on. I’ll take you for breakfast.”

I sat up.
I had a spasm in my neck. My hand reached up and I started to pinch the muscles on the left side as I stretched my neck in the opposite direction.

“Oh no,” she said. “
You’re sore from sleeping on the couch. It’s my fault. Let me massage that.” She got off the floor and climbed up onto the couch behind me. Gentle hands kneaded the knots in my neck. Her touch was electric, sending impulses all over my body. Strong thumbs pushed just under my shoulder blades, pressing out the tension. Goose pimples danced across my skin. “So tense.” The pressure felt wonderful. Her hands glided over my shoulders and down the front of my body. She moved forward. I felt her breasts push against my back. Her hands ran over my chest and reached lower to my stomach. She stood up and moved around to the front of me. “I think you’re tense here, too.” She cupped my crotch, which was now ready for it’s own massage. Rubbing my hard-on, she smiled.

Now that she was standing in front of me, I could see she was wearing the tee shirt I had changed out of before we got dressed for the meeting that went horribly wrong.
It had been laundered and smelled like clean cotton.

An eyebrow arched on my forehead. “Are you wearing anything u
nder that shirt?”

She shook her head.
“You said I looked amazing in your shirt… just your shirt.”

The pounding in my chest
increased and I had to open my mouth to accommodate my breathing.

Long fingers
worked to unbutton my dress shirt. I pulled it out of my pant waist as her hands moved to finish her task. I tossed the shirt to the side and slid my pants down my legs, followed by my briefs. Her hand resumed its stroke against my exposed erection. It left me unable to form a coherent thought. I was fueled by only one thing, the need to be inside of her. Sounds of erratic panting took over the quiet in the room as she lifted the hem of my tee shirt over her body and pulled it off. True to her word, it was the only thing she had been wearing. I was so stiff. I wanted her. She pulled the cushions off the couch and lied down on top of them. Her legs opened and she lifted her arms as I moved down closer to her.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

I covered her with my body and pushed inside her warm wetness. It made me even harder just knowing this beautiful, smart woman wanted me.

With
gentle rocking motions, my hips moved in a careful rhythm. Her body reacted. I felt the ripples I caused inside of her. Her breathing mirrored mine. I tried to hold back but I couldn’t. She had so much control over me.

“
You feel so good.” Her breath caressed my ear.

Her words
were my undoing. Hers too. I felt her release just as I plunged in and stilled, emptying into her.

As we lay on the couch cushions that were now scattered across the floor, she looked at me. “Are you still tense?” We both laughed.

We each showered and dressed before going to a diner two blocks from Rebecca’s building. Staring across the table, I watched as she cut her eggs daintily with the edge of her fork. A graceful arch upward brought the mouthful to her lips, where they enveloped the tender flesh of the egg. I marveled at how her jaw moved as she ate.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asked, suddenly conscious.

“No. I was just thinking about how sexy you look when you eat.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Stop. I am not.”

“You are. You’re a very sensuous woman. I’m very distracted in your presence.”

Her blush darkened. “Well, thank you. I find you very attractive as well.”

“I guess I inherited the good genes,” I laughed.

“It’s not only your deep blue eyes, or your perfect nose. It
isn’t even your fantastic body. It’s who you are. You’re not superficial like the other men I’ve dated. Your inner self is genuine; it’s sincerely beautiful. That makes you even more attractive.”

Now I blushed.

She stopped eating and looked at me. “Haven’t your previous girlfriends ever told you that?” She waited for my answer.

“I haven’t dated too many women, and no, they haven’t said anything remotely as nice as that. Thank you.”

Rebecca resumed eating. When our plates were empty, she sat back in the booth. “So you wanted to know all about Donovan. Remember when I told you that he was very insensitive to me?” I nodded. “Well, I didn’t tell you the whole story. Remember I said we were arguing?”

I now had to replace the generic picture of a stepdad with one of Donovan Richards.
I nodded.

She continued.
“That argument was because Donovan started coming on to me. At fifteen, I finally developed.” She used her fork to play with the remaining eggs on her plate. She didn’t look up at me. “At first, he’d say things that could be taken more than one way. I ignored the innuendos in the beginning, but then he began to touch me. It started with a hand on my shoulder or a pat on the back. At family gatherings, he’d insist on my being next to him in pictures, so he could put his arm around my waist.”

I remembered the portraits in the hallway of her mother’s house. Donovan was positioned next to Rebecca for the last three pictures.

“During Christmas one year, he pointed out that I had been standing under the mistletoe. Even though he kissed me quick, he kissed me on the lips. My mother’s husband. I was grossed out. It wasn’t right.” Rebecca shuddered in her seat. “A friend of mine had been sexually assaulted by her uncle, so I recognized Donovan’s behavior path. I had read about the signs in several books – fiction and non-fiction. One day, when I came home from school, Donovan was home alone. It was odd that Graciella, our cook, wasn’t there. He said he sent her to the store to pick up something special for dinner. I opted to grab an apple and lock myself in my room until my mother, Missy, and Chip came home. Donovan crept up behind me while I was in the kitchen washing the fruit. He saw the apple in my hand and decided he wanted one, too. It was odd, because he never eats fruit. He suggested I feed him my apple.”

Rebecca shifted in her seat. It told me that the most difficult part of the story was coming up. “
A long arm reached past me, over my shoulder, to the bowl with the fruit. He held it there as he fondled each piece of fruit. I didn’t turn around because I knew if I turned, I’d be face to face with him. I didn’t want to be that close. I thought if I just waited, he’d be done and he’d leave. His eyes were on me. I felt them. Then he asked me if I thought the apples were firm enough.” Rebecca looked at me. “It wasn’t so much what he said, it was how he said it, like he wasn’t really talking about an apple. I shrugged, tried to back up, and turned away from him to go to my room. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to face him. His breath brushed my face. His mouth was too close to mine. I didn’t want him touching me. I slapped his face with my other hand.”  Her eyes squinted shut. “He didn’t expect it. He slapped me back. I didn’t expect his reaction either. His force spun me around and I fell into the chair, but my foot caught on the leg. Both the chair and I went down. When I landed, the wooden back cracked and impaled me.”

My mouth
opened and I moved to the edge of my seat, willing her to continue.

A tear slid down her cheek. “There was blood everywhere. When I pul
led my hand away from my side, the blood gurgled out. The apple I was going to eat rested in a crimson pool of blood from my body. I looked up at Donovan. He kept saying it was an accident. He didn’t mean to do it. At least he dialed 9-1-1.”

“What did your mother say?”

“She didn’t believe me when I told her Donovan’s intentions. She said I was imagining it, that I misunderstood him, his intentions, his phrasing. Me? The queen of words. We’ve been at odds ever since. I made the doctor swear not to share any information, other than that I’d be fine, with her. Once I recovered from the surgery, I made every excuse to stay out of the house. My mother never questioned why I didn’t want to be home. My guess is that she thought that I was just a typical teenager who wanted to hang out with her friends more than her family. I joined several clubs at school to stay late. I went out with friends, even spent nights sleeping over their houses so I wouldn’t be under the same roof. Nina and Craig were fabulous and always insisted I stay with them. When I was a senior in high school, I applied to every out of state college and university. I got accepted to all of them. I chose the one furthest from home. I never stayed another day in that house.”