Insipid (31 page)

AND SO, CLOAKED
in the hush of a warm California night, under a bright moon and a starless sky, I bask in the words that he had written from his heart. I can almost hear his voice; I try to imagine his face. I focus my eyes on the lines of the paper and can’t help but smile at the way his handwriting clumps tightly to the right. “Wow. You’re a lefty too,” he once said. “No wonder you’re so smart.”

I read his words over and over again.

She’s forty-two years old? How can that be? The woman who sat across from me at this swanky Italian restaurant told me how old she was. I feel the need to dwell on it, but I didn’t want to embarrass her any further. Besides, I felt Taylor watching me as if he sensed my immediate reaction to her when I met her this morning. She is by far the most alluring woman I have ever met. Her shoulder length reddish brown hair framing her perfect face. Smooth skin, striking green eyes, a perfectly sculpted nose and fine pursed lips. She’s one of those women who desperately tries to hide her sensuality despite oozing it. Her tiny frame is accentuated by long, lean legs. She dresses in a suit but her blouse can’t help but expose her deep cleavage because of the size of her breasts. Her mannerisms are classy, her giggle is childlike. She was just promoted as the first woman Executive Vice President of a large consulting company. Her words denote intelligence and practicality. Even her fingers are long and elegant, like the rest of her. It’s going to be tough staying away from this woman for two weeks, but I’m a businessman first and foremost and nothing is going to keep me from facilitating this deal of a lifetime.

The goddamn flight back to Asia is fourteen hours. I’m exhausted from the two week stay in Chicago, over served, and in desperate need of sleep. Somehow, the drinks aren’t working their magic on me tonight. I can’t stop thinking about her.

“One more scotch on the rocks, please,” I say to the stewardess as she walks down the aisle carrying a tray of nuts.

I constantly shift in my seat, trying my best not to react to the thoughts that are taking over my head. In my hand is the pen I so slyly hid in my pocket as I left her office last night My memento of the most erotic experience I have ever had. Her lidded eyes, the slight parting of her lips, the way she arched her body upwards to take what I was giving her. Her moans. Christ.

She’s fucking forty-two years old when she looks like she’s twenty-five.

Her eyes left a haunting impression on me. They remind me of the bottomless sea, calm on the surface but with a tumultuous current that increases with depth.

She’s not lost, just sad.

Isabel was lost. Her husband had pulled the plug on their marriage and she didn’t know where to go.

Cristina wasn’t lost, I just didn’t love her enough to want to find myself.

Jade knows what she wants. That is something that is so attractive to me. I’m done with whiny thirtysomethings who don’t know which side is up. Jade goes for what she wants and gets it. I know because I’ve met the assholes she works with and promoting her into their inner circle must have taken a hundred board meetings and numerous arguments. She deserves every single thing she has. I hardly know her, but I can already tell. What I can also tell is that her success means nothing to her. It doesn’t fulfill those sad eyes of hers, that’s for damn sure. Maybe it even serves as a detriment to her in some way or another. Just like mine.

I was hopelessly attracted to her from the moment we met, so much that I looked forward to our nightly trips to the Pantry. I wanted to prolong those smoke breaks, to get to know her better, but she stayed pretty guarded all throughout our interaction. She finally let herself go the day before I left, when she allowed me to touch her intimately. There was a light in her eyes that was missing before, but as turned on as I still am when I think about it, I feel like I have yet to break the barrier with her.

I watched her interactions with various people, never failing to be impressed by her warmth and her genuine personality. She was professional yet amiable, outspoken yet respectful. And the men in that office. Dammit. Their eyes linger a little bit too long on her, but she doesn’t know it. Or maybe she does and she’s practiced enough to ignore it. Everyone had only wonderful things to say about her—somehow I can tell that they knew about the burdens she carries. I was dying to ask them about her, to find more information about her personal life, but I couldn’t. It’s not easy when you’re trying to put up a front of utmost detachment.

When I called her from the airport and she didn’t answer her phone, I felt like a giddy teenager, determined to hear her voice before boarding the flight. I called her three consecutive times, hoping that she would step out of her meeting to answer my call. When she did, it felt like Christmas. It calmed me down considerably and allowed me the luxury of knowing that our two weeks together meant something. We connected.

I don’t want her to forget me too soon.

I’m drawn to her. I want to be her friend. And I admit that if this merger wasn’t in progress, I would have pursued her relentlessly. But until this business deal is complete, there is nothing more for me to do but wait. Life on opposite ends of the globe certainly isn’t conducive to starting a relationship. And besides, I still have open issues with the women I leave behind in different destinations.

After Isabel, I basically reverted back to my sex only rule. It’s been perfect so far, since my travels don’t really allow me to stay long enough in one place to truly invest in anyone. It’s all for the best. I have a few years yet before I have to think seriously about settling down. So far, no one’s come close to convincing me to change my lifestyle.

Holy fuck. Until her.

It took me a minute or two to find the energy to drop my hands down the side of my bed to reach for the phone. It rang repeatedly, pausing only for a few seconds before going off again. My eyes were still closed as I brought it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, you. It’s me.”

“Jade. Hi, hold on a second.” I forced my eyes open and stumbled out of bed while tugging on the sheet to cover myself. I looked to my left to find a body lying next to me. Shit. I finally realized where I was as I slid my watch off the night table to look at the time. Next to it was my wallet and a mirror marked with remnants of powder lines. A woman with ebony hair was lying on her stomach, slowly stirring into wakefulness.

“Sorry, Jade. Hi,” I whispered as I tiptoed out of the bedroom, still disoriented and hazy.

“Hey. It’s 9:00 pm here and I’m about to leave work. I thought I’d call to see how you are,” she said happily. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I slept in today.”

“Oh, sorry. I woke you up? I should let you go. Let’s talk later.” I could tell that she was unsure about such an impulsive move.

“Yeah, can I call you back in few minutes? I need to get a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, no worries! Sorry to have bothered you. Just call whenever.” She hung up before I could say anything.

I trudged back into the room to find Ebony sitting up on the bed, sweeping her hair into a ponytail.

“Jade, that’s her?”

“Huh? What?”

“You said her name last night. While we were…”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Marie,” I apologized, truly meaning it.

“It’s Mindy. My name is Mindy.”

“Fuck,” I blurted out, totally confused. “I’m really sorry. Hey, would you mind getting ready to leave? I have a full day ahead of me,” I said, aware of my own insolence.

“Sure thing. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.” She leaned over to try to give me a kiss. I winced and shook my head to ward her off me. She took the hint, scooted off the bed, and made her way to the bathroom.

I remained in my study until I heard the front door shut.

Whew. The coast was clear. I didn’t know what happened the night before. The last thing I remembered, we were doing tequila shots. I must have taken her back here and done more than just drink. My nose felt like it was about to fall off, my head was pounding, and I felt like an idiot. Was that what they defined as a relapse? I was doing so well until now. Then. Last night, I guess. I remembered feeling so lonely, it was almost unbearable. Leave it to me to saddle up to the first pretty girl I found.

I called my therapist to make an appointment and paced the kitchen floor back and forth, searching the cupboards for some coffee filters. I couldn’t let any more time lapse before I saw Dr. Caster. I’d fallen off the wagon and I needed help. I wanted to call Jade back, but I knew that after what happened, she didn’t deserve a guy like me. I wasn’t worthy of someone like her. This was certainly going to take longer than I thought. I had no doubt that I wanted to get better for her, but until then, she didn’t need to have someone like me interfering in her life. I intended for her to be my prize at the end of this struggle. I wanted her to fill my emptiness when all was said and done.

My therapist didn’t think much of my admission.

“You what?” she asked, her face scrunched up in amusement.

“Yes. Apparently I did. I called her name out while fucking, I mean, excuse me, while in bed with another woman.” I settled myself on a leather couch in Dr Caster’s office, affirming my latest screw up.

“Is this your emergency?” She laughed as she crossed her hands on her lap. “Is this why you had to see me right away?”

“Well, that and the fact that I got high again last night. I was doing so well without it.”

“Why do you think that is? What’s been on your mind lately?”

I used to think that it was useless to see Dr. Caster as often as I did because all she did was listen to me talk, but I didn’t hate it as much after I got in on her strategy. She actually made me realize things on my own, most of the time while I was saying them out loud.