Come Undone (8 page)

He
sat back and looked at me wistfully, as though he had just remembered
something. I liked the way his molten brown eyes watched me, and the way they made
me feel like I was the only person in the room. In this setting, between the
jazz and the wine, I wondered how pure his intentions were in asking me to meet
him. The dimly lit club was sensual and private, ideal for clandestine
encounters.

“Two
more,” he said suddenly, jarring me from my thoughts.

I
glanced up to see the passing waitress nod.

“How
long have you been married?” He looked genuinely curious. The way he focused
his attention on me when he spoke was unnerving.

“Ah,”
I took a moment to calculate. “It’ll be three years this summer,” I said
decidedly.

“How
did you meet your husband?”

“I
worked in his building as a personal assistant until I was hired at my current
job.”

“And
he asked you out?”

“Not
right away . . . After a while we became friends.” I fingered a button on my
blouse, feeling suddenly warm.
He sure
asks a lot of questions
. I was beginning to feel like I was in trouble.

“How
long?”

“How
long what?”

“Before
he asked you out.”

“Um.”
Weird question
. “Not right away.
Maybe six months?” He looked at me funny, and I looked back for what felt like
minutes. “And you, are you, ah, single?”

His
expression remained peculiar but he cocked his head. The waitress, it seemed on
purpose, chose that moment to arrive with fresh drinks. She made a note on her
pad while glancing up at him repeatedly, waiting, it seemed, for his answer.

“I
am available, yes.” Of course – he was a bachelor in the utmost sense.
Stupid question
.
What am I even doing here
? Bolstered by a newfound strength, I
decided to cut to the chase.

“Mr.
ah, David.” It occurred to me then that I hadn’t gotten his last name. “Why did
you want to see me tonight? What can I do for you?” I reached for my wine and
took a sip, waiting for him to continue. Placing down the glass, my fingers
fidgeted with the base of the stem as I tried to focus on anything but his
unsettling gaze. He reached over and steadied my hand with his, so gently that
I gasped. It was as if my nerves were exposed, his touch was that powerful.

“I
think you know why I wanted to see you,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. I
licked wine from the inside of my lips and had the sudden urge to see what he
would taste like, to put my mouth on his. Removing my hand from underneath his,
I dashed the thought away.

“Why
do you do that?” he asked.

“I’m
sorry?” I looked at him questioningly. He motioned toward my earlobe.

“Oh,”
I acknowledged. “I don’t know, just a habit,” I said, placing my hands back in
my lap. I didn’t want him to know that tugging on my earlobe was in fact a
nervous habit. How many times had I done it in his presence? I never recalled
Bill mentioning it.

He
shifted forward in his chair and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and
pinched his bottom lip. Finally, he spoke. “I am very,” he paused to clear his
throat, “attracted to you.”

I
stammered for a response to his bluntness. It made me wildly uneasy, but it
also intensified my growing desire to taste him. “Listen,” I started. “I’m
married. I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I
understand.”

I
waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, I said, “And I love Bill.” He
sat back at the mention of Bill’s name.

“Of
course you do. You’ve never had an extramarital affair?” he asked.

My
jaw dropped. “No,” I said incredulously. “Not
extramarital
or otherwise,” I added with a slight hiss. “I’ve never
so much as fantasized about another man since we met or even thought - I mean,
I love my husband, and of course I never considered . . . Until,” I paused,
realizing that I was rambling. “Until nothing,” I concluded, looking away. “And
certainly not for a roll in the hay at some bachelor pad.”

“Where
do you get that? Never in my life have I referred to my place as a ‘bachelor
pad.’” He looked disgusted as he shifted into the back of his chair. An obvious
change befell his demeanor. His eyes darkened as he crossed his arms tightly
over his chest, flashing a glint of his silver watch. From the look on his
face, I wondered if anyone had ever turned him down at all.

“I
feel this . . . I don’t know how to describe it. Don’t you . . . I think this
is worth exploring. No,” he shook his head. “That came out wrong.”

But
I’d already latched onto the word. “Exploring? And what exactly does ‘exploring’
entail? Don’t answer that - I can only imagine. And after you’ve finished your
‘exploration,’ I’m supposed to go home to my husband and pretend nothing
happened?”

“What
I meant - ”

“I’m
not some notch in the bedpost, David. Marriage does not mean a challenge; it
means I’m completely and totally unavailable.” I waited. “Sorry if that spoils
your plans for the evening,” I continued when he didn’t respond. He glared at
me from across the table, shook his head and looked away. My hands balled into
fists in my lap and my temper began to flare, strengthened by the fact that he
appeared to be losing interest in our conversation.
He recognizes that this is a losing battle
, I thought smugly.
Time to move on – maybe to the
waitress?
He simply sat there unresponsive and his indifference provoked
me.

“Also,
I don’t appreciate what you’re suggesting. And if Bill knew, well,” I snorted
softly.
He’d do nothing,
I thought
before I could stop myself. A look of anger flickered across his face, and I
wondered again if he’d ever been rejected. The thought propelled me and I
continued, waving my hand emphatically. “This city is littered with available
women – single
and
married
– who’d happily go home with you tonight. You shouldn’t have any problem
finding someone - ”

He
slammed is fist on the table, causing me to jump. “I don’t want
someone
!” he bellowed, causing the other
patrons in the bar to look over at us. Lowering his voice, he hissed, “I’m not
what you think!”

My
heart raced from his unexpected reaction, and I was overcome with alien
emotions.
What is he saying? Is this part
of the act?
I grasped for my purse, clumsily unlatching it with unsteady
hands.

“Olivia,
wait,” he pleaded, but I threw down a bill and was on my feet in an instant. I
headed for the door, picking up my pace when his chair screeched against the
floor. In my heels, or otherwise, I suspected, I was no match for his long gait,
and he was upon me in seconds. As I reached the base of the stairs, he, not
gently, grasped my upper arm and whirled me toward him. “Please,” he said under
his breath. “Don’t go.”

I
could have melted then and there at the intensity of his glare. I could see the
emotions battling on his face; anger, lust, fear, longing. I recognized them as
my own. I knew if I didn’t escape immediately, I never would, and so, with
everything I had, I yanked my arm from his grasp and ran up the stairs, leaving
him there to watch me flee.

CHAPTER
7

AS I EXITED THE STAIRWELL
,
it was everything I could do not to burst into tears. Over the years I had
studied composure as though I were being graded on it, and I reproached myself
for losing control. His reaction was unexpected, and it had rattled me. I held
my purse to my side and hurried along, desperate to climb into my bed, thankful
that it would be alone.

I walked as I attempted to hail a cab, but it was quiet in the way
that Sunday nights can be. The night replayed in my mind as I tried to figure
David out. Questions filled my mind; questions for him, questions for myself.
Questions, I realized, that might never get answered.

He compelled me with his every word and movement, otherwise why
would I have agreed to see him? Since our moment in the theater, whatever it
was that drew me to him grew more tangible. And nothing positive could come
from that.

I was surprised to look up and see my apartment building ahead.
I’d walked all the way back without even realizing. Just then, the sound of
glass breaking against the concrete made me jump. I kept my eyes forward and
focused on the final destination. I had enjoyed the dusky walk to the bar, but
now I realized how dark it was and how late it had become. My ears pricked when
I thought I heard footsteps behind me.

“Hey.”

Bill had always told me, nonchalantly, not to pay the bums any
mind, and they’d leave me alone. I’d never seen any on our block, but then
again I was rarely out this late by myself. I hastened my pace, feeling less
brave than usual in my vulnerable state.

“Hey!” a male voice called aggressively.

I ignored the plea, but the phantom footsteps quickened behind me.
Cursing my choice of footwear, I vowed to wear tennis shoes everywhere going
forward. My thoughts blurred surreally when I realized that there was, in fact,
someone right behind me. Fishy fingers grasped at my elbow – fleetingly
at first and then, as he missed, more forcefully. He pulled me in the same spot
that David had, but his grip was harsh and unrelenting, causing me to wince. He
jerked me back to him, and the stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes filled my
nostrils. Looking him over, I realized that he was not a bum at all, but a
young man in an oversized hoodie and sagging jeans. The revelation did nothing
to calm me. He was short and stocky with disheveled glossy hair and an
alarmingly sinister expression.

“Does the name Lou Alvarez mean anything to you?” he slurred,
tightening his grip over my twitching muscles. Misty and distant eyes betrayed
his state of mind.

“Let go,” I commanded with feigned confidence and pulled my arm.

“Mmm,” he moaned and, against my neck, said, “you smell like
flowers.” He leaned in and closed his eyes, taking a deep whiff.

Seeing nowhere to turn, I lifted the purse I’d been clutching with
my free hand and smacked him in the temple with all my strength.

He cursed loudly, and I wrenched my arm away. I took a step before
he caught me again and squeezed my arm so powerfully that I fell to my knees.

“Olivia,” he snarled and my breath caught in my throat. Fear
surged through me hearing my name from his mouth. His distant eyes became clear
and menacing as he bared his teeth at me. “It is Olivia, right?”

“Who are you?”

He leaned in close to my ear and said, “I’m here about my brother
Lou.”

“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Bill will know,” he said, releasing me with an emphatic push.

I took no time to ruminate on his comments or catch my breath. I
ran to my complex without stopping or checking to make sure he didn’t follow.
Once inside, I bolted the lock and leaned against the door, exhaling my relief.
Bill had never mentioned the name Lou Alvarez, or if he had, it wasn’t enough
that I remembered. I dug my cell phone out of my purse, located his name and
stared at the screen until it went black. How would I explain being out so
late? I’d never had a reason to lie to Bill before, aside from the occasional
fib, but the thought of telling him the truth gave me pause.

I headed straight for the bedroom, stopping only long enough to
kick my shoes onto the carpet before climbing into bed. I lifted the comforter
over my shivering body and thought about what the man had said. What would he
have done if he’d found Bill instead?

~

I
awoke with a start when I reached across the bed for a body that wasn’t there.
I sighed when I remembered Bill was away and then again when the night’s events
flooded over me. I sat up and looked around the room, softly lit with the
rising sun, and found I was still in my blouse but had removed my pants sometime
in the night.

Scrambling out of bed, I fumbled to the couch where I’d flung my
stuff the night before. I retrieved my phone and prepared to place the call to
Bill but froze as my thumb hovered over his name. Sleep had brought no answers
and in fact, I felt more confused than before. I threw the phone back in my bag
and decided it could wait until after my shower.

As hot water poured over my face, soaking my hair, I let the
questions filter in. Who is Lou Alvarez, and what is his connection to Bill?
Did it involve one of his cases at Specter & Specter? I wondered if I
should just not say anything to Bill, so I wouldn’t have to lie about where I
was. Or rather, whom I was with.
David
.
Would I ever see him again? Was he upset with me? My mind flashed to the eager
waitress. How easy was it with him? Would she need to make the first move? I
stopped myself.
Someone tried to attack
me last night and might be back. He obviously knows where we live. And I’m here
alone for the next week.
I shook my head and decided that worrying wouldn’t
help.