The Rebound Guy (4 page)

“Oh, how is cute little Roxie?” Melanie asked. She leaned closer to Ray and, in a loud whisper, said, “Roxie is the one good thing to come out of Dex’s relationship with his ex. She was originally her dog.”

“How do you know so much about what happened between me and Ebony?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? That was the talk around the water cooler back at R&L. Dexter Bryant had suddenly become a single man again. The women in the office were gearing up to battle it out for you. Then, you know, everything went to shit with that Murphy incident.”

Yeah, he knew. He’d pretty much caused the Murphy incident, which, in turn, had cost Reynolds and Locke untold dollars in lost revenue and his five co-workers their jobs.

With that unpleasant thought obliterating the taste of all the good food he’d just consumed, Dex scooted out of the booth, dropped a fifty on the table, and bid his former co-workers a good night. He took the N Train, which was surprisingly uncrowded, and got off just before his usual stop so he could drop in at the 24-hour market to buy a bag of dog treats for tomorrow. Bruno had cleaned out his supply on this morning’s walk.

His cell phone rang as the cashier was checking him out. Dexter tossed a pack of gum and a
Sports Illustrated
onto the conveyor belt as he pulled out the phone and checked the screen. A grin formed on his lips.

“What’s up, Niecy?” Dexter greeted his older sister, Denise.

“Hey there, Dex,” she answered, and he immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“What happened? Is it Dad?” His father’s health had been the number one issue in their family since his emergency triple bypass a year ago.

“No, no. Dad’s fine. Mom said he spent the entire afternoon on the golf course. He’ll outlive us all.”

His shoulders wilted in relief as he grabbed his package. He stepped aside so that an older gentleman pulling a collapsible grocery cart could pass, and then he left the store. He turned right down the tree-lined street, in the direction of his brownstone.

“So, what’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing,’” Dex warned. “I heard it in your voice the second you spoke.”

“I wish you would stop being so damn observant. You’re like a psychic.”

“Niecy, stop stalling and spill it.”

“I’m losing my house.”

Her words stopped Dex cold. He stood still in the middle of the sidewalk, with total disregard for the people who had to skirt around him.

“How?” he asked.

“Because my prince of an ex-husband hasn’t paid the mortgage in three months. The bank called me as a courtesy before beginning foreclosure proceedings that will start once the delinquency reaches 120 days.”

“He was three months behind and they’re just now contacting you?” Dex asked as he resumed walking. “And where the hell is Myron? Why didn’t he say he was having trouble paying the mortgage?”

“Well, if you can find him, maybe you can ask him that. The landlord of the building where he leased office space said that he skipped out owing back rent. It was business as usual when the landlord left on Friday. When he returned Monday, Myron’s real estate office was cleared out. All that remained was a broken coffee maker and the copy machine that he’d leased. He hadn’t paid that bill, either.”

“Dammit, Niecy. Did you explain this to the bank? Maybe they can work out a plan or something?”

“I did, but there’s not much they can do. Myron and I refinanced right before we separated. I still owe nearly a hundred thousand, not including the back payments.”

Dex pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can’t lose the house.”

“I don’t want to, of course, but I have to face that it’s a real possibility. We may have to move in with Mom and Dad.”

“Even if you could move in with Mom and Dad, you would have to drive nearly two hours to bring Little Myron to school every day. It’s unrealistic.”

His nephew suffered from a severe form of autism. Denise had managed to get him into one of the best schools in Georgia for kids with his disability. The proximity to Myron’s school was the sole reason she had moved to the town eighty miles north of Atlanta.

Dex silently cursed his ex-brother-in-law. “How much do you need?” he asked.

“More than you have just lying around.”

“I asked how much, Niecy?”

“At least fifteen thousand,” she answered.

Shit
. No, he didn’t have fifteen thousand just lying around. He had enough socked away in the IRA he’d paid into during his days at Reynolds and Locke, but the hit he’d take in penalties and fees made Dexter cringe.

“Mom offered to cancel their anniversary cruise and use the money to help pay a portion, but I can’t let her do that,” his sister said.

“No,” Dex quickly agreed. Their parents had been planning the sixteen-day transatlantic cruise to the Mediterranean to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary for three years. Dex didn’t care how many afternoons his dad spent on the golf course. Last year’s heart scare had brought home that his parents would not be here forever. They were going on that cruise.

“I’ll come up with something,” he said. “When do you have to get the money to the bank?”

“The loan officer says that foreclosure proceedings will start in a little over a month. If I can’t figure something out soon, I’ll start collecting cardboard boxes.”

“Hold off on the packing,” he said. “I mean it, Niecy. I’m not letting you lose the house.”

There was a pause before a quiet, emotion-cloaked, “Thank you,” came through the line.

Dex cleared his throat, which had become painfully tight. “Try not to let this get to you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “I love you, Pumpkin.”

He smiled at her use of his childhood nickname, which he’d always hated. Not as if his older sister cared.

“I love you, too.”

After he’d ended the call, Dexter quickly made it to his apartment. Roxie was waiting at the door. He knew she needed to go out, but his sister’s current predicament was more pressing than his Pomeranian’s full bladder.

He clicked on the financial planning program on his computer and logged into his account. As he scanned the numbers, the muscles in his jaw twitched in irritation. He definitely had enough to take care of Niecy’s back mortgage payments, but he would lose an obscene amount in taxes and early-withdrawal penalties.

“Dammit.” The fist he banged against the desk rattled the framed school photo he kept of his nephew.

His long-range financial plans had not included this kind of hiccup. But what else could he do? Let his sister and autistic nephew get kicked out of their home? Stability and routine were paramount to Little Myron’s progress. His sister and brother-in-law’s divorce had been enough of a disruption already. The kid didn’t need any more stress.

He checked both his checking and savings accounts. Even if he were to deplete them both, he’d still be short six thousand dollars of what Niecy needed.

Dex leaned away from the computer and massaged the back of his neck, staring at the collection of Star Wars figurines on the shelf mounted above his desk.

Niecy said she had about a month, which meant he had to come up with a plan right away.

Roxie scratched at the door, barking like a maniac...or like a dog that had been forced to hold her bladder for too many hours. Dexter got up and grabbed the leash from the hook on the back of the door. He had enough on his plate; he didn’t need to add cleaning up a puddle of dog piss to it.

Chapter Three

Asia stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth and wiped her fingers on the dish cloth she’d carried in from the kitchen. She washed the popcorn down with a healthy sip of the ’02 Sauvignon Blanc that had been in her collection for seven years.

It was that kind of night.

Helena had asked for her input on a press statement she’d written about a sex tape that had surfaced online. It starred the executive vice president of a tech company that had just gone public on the New York Stock Exchange. Investors were not pleased with the VP’s movie debut.

Her cell phone chimed. It was Cortland answering the text she’d sent him a few minutes ago.

Been gone a week. UR just contacting me?

That was unfair. She’d texted him the night he left. She just hadn’t gotten around to contacting him since then.

And it had not been a week. Only six days.

Work has been crazy
! Asia replied.

When isn’t it? Face it. U don’t have time 4 me.

Can we please discuss this?
She texted.

Her work phone rang. It was Helena.

“I’m almost done,” Asia told her. “You did a good job of glossing over the details without outright lying. Have you heard back from the reporter who contacted you?”

Asia ignored the second chime coming from her personal phone as Helena gave her a play-by-play recount of the conversation she’d just had with a writer from one of the major newspapers. She experienced a moment of pride as Helena described how she’d appeased the reporter’s insistent questions. It took tact, skill, and a lot of guts to stand up to the New York media, but that was a key part of a crisis manager’s job. As the one who’d trained Helena, Asia figured she deserved a pat on the back.

“Excellent,” she said. “You should receive my revisions to the written statement within the next few minutes. We’ll release it in the morning.”

She ended the call with Helena and, a couple of minutes later, emailed the document. Her phone chimed again.

Shit. She’d forgotten about Cortland. There were three text messages waiting for her:

Asia?

Asia, where R U?

Fuck this. I’m done.

She texted back
Sorry, had to take a call
, but when twenty minutes went by without a reply, she decided apology by text message wouldn’t cut it. She changed into jeans and a lightweight sweater and headed for the Upper West Side.

When Asia arrived at the post-WWI building in Morningside Heights a few blocks from the campus of Columbia University, where Cortland had attended law school, she buzzed the apartment he’d shared with his best friend, Rodney Sanderson. Ironically, Asia had introduced Rodney to the woman he would marry at the end of the month, a former client, Elizabeth Harrington.

“Who is it?” came Rodney’s voice through the speaker.

“It’s Asia. Tell Cortland I’m not leaving without speaking to him.”

There was a pause, and as Rodney started to speak again, a delivery truck passed, drowning out his words.

“What was that?” Asia asked.

“I said he’s not here.”

“Rodney, I know he’s staying with you. Where else would he go?”

“Yeah, his stuff is here, but
he’s
not here right now.”

“Can you please just let me in so I can wait for him, then?”

The electronic buzzer emitted a beep, but before she could open the door, Asia heard someone call from the street, “What are you doing here?”

She turned to find Cortland standing hand-in-hand with Nina Sims, another of the in-house attorneys in Global Partners PR’s legal department.

“I told you it was over, Asia. Why are you here?”

Shock rendered her speechless for several long, heart-stopping moments. When she finally summoned the ability to speak, Asia cursed the hitch she heard in her voice.

“What—” She cleared her throat. “What’s going on here, Cortland? Are you two seeing each other?”

“Nina and I have been seeing each other for six months. You’ve been too busy to notice.”

His words hit her like a fist, brutal in the pain they rendered. With a hand to her chest, Asia walked down the stone steps on shaking legs, stopping a few feet in front of her fiancé and his...girlfriend.

Asia took in the other woman’s tailored cream slacks and lavender scoop-neck camisole top, clothes much like she would find in her own closet.

“You’ve been cheating on me?” she asked, forcing the words past the painful lump in her throat.

Cortland’s mouth twisted with derision. “Don’t act as if you care, Asia.”

“You think I don’t care that my fiancé has been screwing around on me?” She let out a mirthless laugh and slapped a hand to her forehead, barely registering the curious glances of passersby. “God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“
Ex
-fiancé,” Cortland stated. “And, no, I don’t think you care. If you cared enough
you
would have been the one screwing me and I wouldn’t have had to go looking for it somewhere else.”

She staggered back a step. “You bastard,” Asia whispered.

“Call me whatever name you want to.” He shrugged. “It’s not my fault you can’t face the truth.”

“What truth, Cortland?”

His jaw tightened as he released Nina’s hand and closed the distance between them. When he spoke, his voice was icy enough to chill Asia to the bone.

“You are one of the coldest, most unemotional people I’ve ever met, both in bed and out of it. Honestly, Asia, I don’t know whether you’re even capable of turning a man on.”

Asia covered her lips with trembling fingers, trying to hold in the sob that nearly escaped.

Who was this person saying these horrible things to her? He could not be the same man she’d shared her life with for the past four years, the man she’d lain in bed with every night.

“Why are you doing this, Cortland? I don’t deserve this kind of treatment from you.”

“Are you kidding me?” He barked out a laugh. “I’ve put up with your shit longer than I should have. You never once thought that I’d get tired of coming in second to your job or to your sister? Hell, Asia, you paid more attention to your damn wine collection than you did to me.”

She bit her quivering lip, but shook her head, unwilling to let him lay all the blame at her feet. “You are just as dedicated to your job as I am,” she pointed out. “We’ve both had to put the job first at times.”

“I haven’t. Not the way you have. I don’t let my job consume me. I’ve never stopped in the middle of having sex to answer my damn BlackBerry.” He shook his head. “You and I are nothing alike, Asia. That’s why I’m gone. Good luck finding someone to put up with your lack of attention. It won’t be easy.”