She: Part 2 (40 page)

Two men are standing on the stage in front of a lectern which has a microphone protruding out the top of it. They introduce themselves as the co-chairman of the PBA. Speaking in French, they begin by taking it in turns to welcome everyone to the event before both sharing a brief synopsis of how they came to know Logan and his work, and how privileged the PBA is to have Leary Constructions be a part of it. I learn that they will be presenting Logan with an Outstanding Contribution to Building and Construction award a little later on — it’s a fancy-looking glass sculpture which they balance on the lectern — but first they introduce Michel, who rises from his seat at our table, inviting him to say a few words.

Amid a smattering of applause, Michel takes to the stage and delivers
more
than a few words; he’s up there for a solid ten minutes, delivering an impressively professional sounding speech. In it, he details the birth of the company, its growing pains and its breakthrough successes, but most of all, he talks of watching a young, idealistic maverick turn into a leader and a mentor and the man I’m all set on marrying. His speech holds me utterly captivated. He was there, Logan’s righthand man from day one of Leary Constructions, and I
love
hearing his perspective.

Eventually, Michel concludes his speech and receives another, louder round of applause, but he doesn’t leave his station. Instead he announces, “À l’insu de Logan, un membre de son cercle privé a été invité à dire quelques mots.”
Unbeknownst to Logan
,
a member of his inner-circle has been asked to say a few words
.

Immediately, both Logan and I scan the table, looking for a guilty face, and for one deathly horrifying moment I think that Michel’s going to call on
me
!

He doesn’t.

Instead, he says with a mischievous smile, “Mesdames et messieurs, M. Buddy Jackson.”
Ladies and gentlemen
,
Mr. Buddy Jackson
.

The room erupts into cheers, and it’s suddenly abundantly evident that within this industry Buddy is the class clown.

“Oh,
shit
,” Logan groans, knowing that his level of embarrassment is about to increase tenfold.

“Surprise,” Buddy smiles from his chair on the other side of Logan. Clapping his shoulder as he gets to his feet, he says, “Stand up, Loges, you’re coming with me.”

Reluctantly Logan stands too, leaving me with a parting kiss and a comical look of dread. As they begin walking to the stage together, I hear Buddy ask him, “You’re not opposed to the term bromance, are you?”

Once on stage, they both look imperially tall, and I vaguely contemplate looking around the room to find Amélie. I’m sure her facial expression right now would be hilarious, but I keep my gaze firmly set on Logan. He moves with such poise and elegance. Charisma and likability oozes from him as he jokes quietly with Buddy and then shakes hands with Michel, thanking him for his kind words. He’s just so fucking
cool
, I think. I have to stop myself from shouting out,
I
’
m
with him
!

Keeping my own poise in place, I clap politely as Buddy steps up to the lectern, while Logan lingers behind him.

“This should be good,” I say to the table. And it is. It
really
is!

Not only does Buddy give a side-splitting account of a young Logan,
pre
-Leary Constructions, when their bromance blossomed during the two years that they lived and worked together, but also, while throwing out analogy after analogy in an attempt to convey how much Logan loves his job, he shares a private story about arriving home one evening and finding Logan pleasuring himself whilst looking through a building magazine.

I gasp and burst into laughter along with the rest of the room. Logan puts his face in his hands and shakes his head, letting the humiliation wash over him. When he looks up, he’s laughing too, though he gives Buddy a distinct I’m-going-to-kill-you-for-that kind of look.

Buddy revels in teasing his best friend, and drinks in everyone’s laughter, before his speech continues. A few humorous minutes later, he gestures that Logan should join him at the front of the stage.

When they’re shoulder to shoulder, Buddy concludes, “Logan, you have been my friend and my brother for the past fifteen years, the closest thing that I have to a moral compass,” he grins, “and I consider myself very lucky for that. To everyone in this room, you have been a visionary, a kingpin, and a sounding board, and I cannot think of a single person who deserves this award more than you. Not even
I
deserve this award more than you,” he laughs. He picks up the award and presents it Logan, saying, “Loges, congratulations on all you have achieved and contributed. May it stand the test of time.”

The room erupts into yet another round of applause as Logan is handed his prestigious award. After setting it down once more, he and Buddy do a half-handshake, half-hug type of thing, before Buddy retreats offstage and Logan is left alone. He takes a deep breath and his eyes scan the sizeable room before they dart to me, where they stay for a long moment. I give him a reassuring wink, and I relish that even now, even here, we are able to look at each other and calm descends.

After flashing a quick smile, Logan begins, “That thing that Buddy said about the magazine is not true…” The room immediately breaks out into laughter once more.

“I saw it with my own eyes!” Buddy shouts, now back at the table, where he receives everyone’s quiet congratulations on his speech. Everyone except for Taylor, of course.

“Moving right along,” Logan chuckles. He starts his speech very formally by thanking the PBA for hosting this event and for presenting him with his award. An award which he modestly admits he would not be receiving if it weren’t for the culmination of a lot of work by a lot of people, most of whom are in the room tonight. His formalities die away as he begins to single out specific individuals, Michel, Buddy, Grace, Cheryl, and he works in a few of those gags that I found for him.

True to my promise, I laugh along with everyone else, though I still have no idea
why
the jokes are funny. Logan cracks up himself as he watches me say
ha ha ha
to his favourite of the jokes, knowing that my humour is pretence. I give him a little
I-don
’
t-know
shrug and he beams back at me, before finishing up his speech.

“The last thing that I want to touch on is failure, or better yet the perception of failure,” he says clearly and confidently. “There are not a lot of people here that know that I used to be a troublemaker in my youth. A real, insufferable badass,” he grins, looking complete gorgeous. “I used to want to keep that to myself, but now,” his eyes find mine again, “now I can embrace where I have been, because it has made me the man I am today.” He then looks out to the back of the room, and shares, “The one question that I have been asked the most in the lead up to tonight, is how have I made a success of myself? To that I say, I have succeeded because I have
also
failed. And in doing so, I have gained perspective. I have realised that success is more than winning jobs and making money. Success is being happy,” he says simply and I smile at his words. “It’s knowing that I’ve done the best job that I possibly can, and that whatever outcome eventuates I will be proud of my efforts and proud of the efforts of the team around me. I can see now that anything I have perceived as failure in the past, has simply been a chance to learn and grown, and so failures should never be a reason to be ashamed, they should never be regretted or denied. A wise man once said:
if you own your own story
,
then no one can use it against you
…”

My breath catches in my throat. I stare up at him in complete reverence and he smiles slightly at my reaction.

He quoted my father! I can’t believe that he’s remembered those words, let alone that he’s saying them at such a profound moment. My heart hammers madly in my chest and I feel like welling up. He really is the most thoughtful, gracious person that I’ve ever known. Across the table my mother gazes at Logan in similar disbelief. I know from her eyes alone that his touching tribute has won her over for good.

“I will own my failures,” Logan continues, “because I wouldn’t have succeeded without them. They have led me to stand before you tonight, and I stand here very humbled, very honoured…and ever so slightly humiliated after Buddy’s speech,” he laughs.

In conclusion Logan thanks the PBA once again, and insists that everyone enjoy their upcoming meal. As he steps back from the lectern, looking throughly pleased that all of the official business is now over, the room collectively rises as one to give him a standing ovation. His eyes widen in surprise. Logan wasn’t expecting that, which makes it all the more satisfying.

Once he leaves the stage, people take their seats and chatter breaks out around the room once more. Waiters immediately swarm every table, delivering our opulent evening meal. It’s a good thing that food is acting as a distraction, I think, because as Logan rejoins the table which is the only one with everyone still on their feet, I’m ready to jump his bones. Before I can get my hands on him, however, he passes my mother, who hugs him and whispers something which makes him smile. Then, finally, he reaches me and presses his lips to mine for a long, delicious moment.

“That’s the sweetest thing…” I begin.

“I thought you’d like it,” Logan smiles, his dimples on display.

I kiss him again as we simultaneously sink back down into our seats.

“
So
proud of you,” I tell him again, loud enough for only him and I to hear.

“Thank you,” he breathes and then he sighs in relief. The nerve-inducing part is over for him, now the fun begins. As if to prove this, Logan’s hand lingers near my knee and only when he withdraws it do I realise that he’s placed something underneath it.

As waiters deliver abundant plates of food and everyone around the table starts talking amongst themselves, I reach for the little item under my leg and a mixture of desire and excitement courses through me when I feel that it’s a key. Logan’s planned a secret, sexy rendezvous, I realise giddily. I expect the key to belong to one of the ample hotel rooms on the many floors above us, but as I rest it on my lap, out of sight of anyone apart from me, I peer down and read the engraving.

It says:
Hotel Roof
.

11. It’s My Party

A
ll through dinner I’m distracted. The key, which is tucked securely under my leg once more, turns me into a bundle of erotic desires.
When
, I wonder. Every time that Logan shifts in his seat next to me, I jump, thinking he’s about to make his exit, but he doesn’t.

Eventually, I whisper to him, “Don’t I get some sort of instructions? You know, an ETA?”

“Instructions for what?” he smiles slyly, acting clueless.

So that’s how he wants to play, is it? I roll my eyes playfully, making him laugh, before saying, “Never mind. But let’s just say that if you don’t fill me in on your little ploy, you’re going to have a lonely time on the roof.”

“No, I don’t think so, baby. You are brains as well as beauty, Gemima, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he chuckles.

Figure
what
out? And the hotel roof,
really
? It’s so open. So bold.
So
something I’m up for! Though I can’t help noting that if I
do
get to have my way with Logan up there, it’ll be the third time that we’ve had sex outside in the past week.
A new fetish
,
Gem
, I question myself, as I continue eating my delicious meal.

Logan relaxes in the chair next to me, engaging the table in conversation, which tells me that whatever he’s got planned it’s not happening anytime soon. I relax too, trusting that I’m as smart as he thinks I am, and that I’ll know when it’s go-time.

About an hour after our decadent dessert is served, the room starts to liven up again. People move to neighbouring tables to talk to their colleagues and friends, on stage the lectern is replaced with a long table, upon which a DJ sets up his equipment, and soon after the first song starts playing and a brave few gravitate towards the front of the room, near our table, where there’s a small vacant space for dancing.

It’s not until most of the people around our table have also gotten up and begun mingling once more, that Logan stands and offers me his hand. That’s not very covert, I think, assuming he’s inviting me to join him on the hotel roof. But I’ve misread his intention.

“Care to dance, Miss. Samuels?” he asks me. His eyes glimmer when he says my surname. We’re two of four people, in this room full of a thousand, who know that that won’t be my surname for that much longer.

“Love to, Mr. Leary,” I grin at him, accepting his hand.

We’re on the dance floor for less than a minute when the current song ends prematurely and an all too familiar tune starts playing instead —
Girlfriend
by N*Sync. Both glancing up towards the DJ’s table, Logan and I see Buddy standing next to the DJ. He raises up his glass to us in a toast. It’s a gesture that no one else will understand but us, a humorous and thoughtful one at that.

Hotel staff are quick to clear away the first several rows of tables now that everyone’s been fed, which opens up the dancing space much more. Logan and I twirl around to our unofficial song, and the few that follow, as more and more people flock to join us.

When it’s busy and noisy all around us, Logan tells me, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Abruptly butterflies take flight in my tummy.
This is it
, I think,
this is the sign
. Excitement and anticipation take ahold of me. I say the first thing that comes into my mind. “Have fun.”

He laughs, kisses me once, and then leaves the dance floor. I leave too, making a beeline for the bar, from where I can watch him walking towards the ballroom doors. As he walks through them, he throws a glance back into the room and then disappears from sight. Yup, that’s an unmistakable invitation. My heart starts to pound as hard as if Logan’s hands were already all over me. I love how hot and riled up he’s able to make me; the suspense of what will happen mere minutes from now is enough to make me wet.