Wicked Bad Boys (16 page)

A
fter I leave
Kara’s office, I grab a few files and head out. I stop for a large cup of specialty coffee near the office and walk home. Jonathan has arranged to pick me up around four this afternoon, so I have almost the entire day. I feel like I’m already on vacation. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so little to do.

I can use a meal and another coffee when I’m a few blocks from my building. I send a text to Sarah to see if she wants to meet me. She tells me to come by her place first so we can catch up. By catch up, I know she wants me tell her about Jonathan. I’m not about to tell her much, but I won’t avoid her either.

I get to her building. She lives in a gorgeous, airy and modern condo building. Her concierge lets me up to her floor, and she’s waiting at her front door when I get up there. It occurs to me I haven’t been to her place before. It’s on the twenty-fourth floor and has a breathtaking view of Central Park. Her apartment is tastefully decorated, opulent, and shares her contemporary chic good taste.

Sarah lets me in and gives me a warm hug with one arm. She has a cup of steaming tea in the other hand. She takes a sip and offers me a cup.

“No thanks,” I tell her. “You know coffee’s my thing.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, leading me to her sprawling open concept kitchen. “This is seriously good fair market organic jasmine tea.”

“Positive. It doesn’t sound like it has enough caffeine for me to enjoy it.”

“You’d be surprised. Have a seat, hun. So what’s new?”

“Not much,” I answer, taking a seat in one of the bar stools around the center island counter at one end of the bright room.

She’s gearing up to grill me about Jonathan. I take my time to look around. There’s a wall displaying brilliant Victorian era art. I get up and walk over to them, enthralled but also in avoidance of her pending inquisition. I admire it as she stares at me for more information.

“Come on, Rebecca. I want details. Don’t hold out on me, woman. What’s been happening with you and Jonathan?”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop the coy routine, Becky. Or was it a dream?”

“Sorry, was what a dream?”

“I had the strangest dream a few days ago. We were running with Buddy, and when we passed your building on the way back, Jonathan fucking Sloan was at your doorstep. Then four days later, I see you and you don’t mention what happened!”

I smile. I don’t mean to be enigmatic, but the more I tell her, the less I’ll be able to hold back on what I’m feeling for Jonathan.

“Tell me!” she demands, with eyes widened.

“Okay, okay. I’ve seen him…a few times.”

“What? When? I just saw you four days ago. Where did you get the time to see him so much already?”

“I can’t get into it, Sarah. It’s a bit complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

I want to tell her, but it’s not a smart move. “All I can say is his family is a client of my firm. Sorry, Sarah. I’ve already said too much.”

I think this will hold her off, but somehow, I doubt it.

“So what’s he like in bed?” she asks.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A question your girlfriend has to ask. After all, throngs of women have been chasing after Jonathan, and you’re telling me you’ve seen him a few times in less than a week. It’s either he’s in a heap of trouble, or you’re sleeping with him.”

She’s right on both counts, but I don’t add fuel to the fire by admitting anything.

“Okay let’s talk about something else. I can’t say more.”

“Shit. All those women have been trying to get his attention, and you’re practically fighting him off.”

“How’s your yoga classes going?” I ask to get her off my back. If I address any of her questions about Jonathan, it will only encourage her.

“I can tell it’s something juicy, dammit. Yoga’s fine. Hey, do you want to come to a free demonstration lesson I’m giving on Saturday?”

“I can’t. I’ll be away.”

“Oh? Going on vacation, or traveling on business?”

“It’s for work.”

“Where to?”

“Oh, nowhere special,” I lie.

“You’re going away with him, aren’t you?” She looks at me intently. “Yes. That’s it! You’re going away with Jonathan. Why didn’t you tell me? Where are you heading to?”

“Jeez, Sarah. I can’t say more.”

“You’re going to have to tell me more, Becky.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to know!” She laughs, and grabs me with feigned urgency. “You look like you’re dying to tell someone!”

“I’m not, but okay. What I’ll tell you is I’ll be in the Bahamas for three days. It’s with Jonathan, and it’s business. That’s all I’m saying, so you’ll have to survive with that.”

“Maybe you can make something up, then,” she teases.

“What? Just watch a movie if you want romance, Sarah. So where’s Buddy?”

“He’s at the pet spa.” She looks at the time. “I have to pick him up in a few minutes. It’s close to your place. Do you mind if we go now?”

“Not at all,” I tell her.

I gather my things and we leave. I’m glad for the reprieve, but she doesn’t skip a beat when we get outside.

“Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?” I ask her while we walk.

“Becky, you’d better stop trying to change the subject. Did you kiss him?”

I must let something on in my body language. Her eyes practically pop out of her head. “You’ve slept with him,
and
you’ve kissed him. You can’t fool me.”

“Stop, Sarah. I’m not talking.”

“Come on, hun. I’m getting so little action, I think my crotch shriveled up and died. I need something to keep me going.”

“You’re wasting your time, Sarah.”

She stops me in the street and turns to me. “I miss our high school days. We used to share everything…especially after that loser Bryce.”

She knows how to press my buttons. I’m not telling her more, but I remember how much time we spent hanging out that summer after we graduated from high school.

I concede, just a little. “Do you want to go for lunch after we get Buddy? Just know that if you bring up Jonathan, I’m bolting. You hear me?”

“Shit. Okay, lunch.” She gets the message, but as I’ve softened the blow, a broad smile crawls up her face.

We pick up Buddy, drop him off at her place, and head to a small bistro for lunch. We catch up on everything
but
Jonathan Sloan. We almost finish our sandwiches and it’s going well, until I get a text—from Jonathan. He tells me he’s looking forward to the trip, and we’re still on for four in the afternoon. She must read my telling smile.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” She asks, looking back and forth between me and my phone. “Holy shit, Rebecca. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

I look up at her and try to put on my poker face. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I put my phone away and take a sip of my water.

“It’s all over your face, so stop denying it.”

I scoff at her, but she continues.

“How on earth do you go from zero to head over heels in four days? The man must have some love potion or something. I heard he’s got a massive dick. Is it true?”

She doesn’t realize how loudly she said that. The people sitting at tables near us turn to look our way.

I lean in close to her and speak in a whisper, my eyes glaring at her. “This is why I can’t tell you anything. Now the whole coffee shop wants to know if he has a big dick, Sarah.”

She laughs, and I’ve just about had enough. “I’ve got to get back home,” I say, gathering my things. I stand up and make for the door. “Let’s do lunch when I’m back.”

She follows me out and thankfully, has to go in the other direction to get home. “I want to know everything!” she calls out to me when we’re outside. “Have a good trip, Becky.”

M
andy returns
my text just after Dad leaves in his limo. She lets me know she’s having brunch with a friend at the country club in New Jersey. She’ll see me there if I can meet her after her meal. If I take the Holland Tunnel, it will take over an hour to drive from my place with the daytime traffic. I tell her to wait there for me.

I get there as Mandy and one of her socialite friends are finishing up their desserts. Mandy catches sight of me at the maître d’s desk. She waves me over to their table.

“Good afternoon,” I say as I arrive. We make the usual idle conversation, and I sit after her friend eventually leaves.

“So what is this about?” Mandy asks.

“A couple of things, Mandy. I won’t keep you for long.”

“Good,” she answers. “I’m meeting Michael to do some shopping this afternoon. Did I tell you we’re remodeling the living room at the cottage in the Hamptons? Michael has such a good eye for color. We’ll be checking out samples later.”

“That’s nice.” I ignore this detail. She’s probably remodeling in the Hamptons so she can leave Dad in Long Island. It’s not my business, so I get to the point. “Okay so a few things, Mandy. Dad wants to apologize and find a way to make it up to you. Is there any way you can forgive him?”

She looks at me and doesn’t answer.

I add, “He knows what he’s done is unforgivable. He’s really sorry, Mandy. He’s missing you like crazy.”

I lay it on thick because we’re in dire straits, and I know this has to at least sound sincere if she’s going to hand anything over or consider taking him back.

“He put you up to this, didn’t he?” She asks, already annoyed.

“I won’t lie to you, Mandy. Yes, he did. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t ask me to. You know I feel this should be between you and him. I’ve never meddled in your lives before, and I wasn’t about to start now. I understand what I’m asking you to do may be hard, but I’m here anyway, on his behalf, asking you to give him another chance.”

“I love your father, Jonathan. I lost count of how many times he hurt me, and I stood by him all these years. He was never faithful after we got married. I was willing to forgive him, and I did forgive him for all of it. He took such good care of me the last couple of years. I was ready to let go of all the wrongdoing, all the womanizing. I could even overlook that massive ego of his, but you know what got to me? What I found in the trunk. That was the last straw.”

“What’s in the trunk?” I asked, glad that she’s the one to bring it up, and not me.

“You don’t even want to know.”

“Tell me, please.” I beg, ready to grovel if I have to.

“I can’t even talk about it here,” she answers, looking behind her shoulder in each direction to see if anyone is close enough to hear. “What’s in the trunk is enough for me to bury him. No wife should have to find the things I found in that little box.”

Her eyes are welling up with tears, so I pull my chair closer and put my arm over her shoulder. It’s time I get firm before she gets any more emotional.

“What will it take for you to give me that trunk? If there’s anything I can do to make things right, I will. If you’re saying it’s too late, I can tell Dad, but please, can I have the trunk back?”

She gathers herself up and turns to look me in the eye. “That trunk represents more leverage than I’ve ever had on your father.”

“What do you think you’ll do with it, if you don’t return it to him?

“I don’t know yet.”

“Please, Mandy. I agree. Dad doesn’t deserve you. He probably deserves everything he’s about to get, but I’m asking for
me
this time. I’m asking you to do this for me. If it’s a divorce you want from Dad, I will do everything I can to support you. Is that what you want?”

“When I saw what was inside, at first I wanted to kill him myself.” Her face is solemn. “I don’t have much time on this earth, son. I’d be lucky if I get six more months. If that’s all the time I have, I want to make the best of it. I want to be free of your father, so I can enjoy my last days with a little peace.”

“If that’s what you want, Mandy, then let me have the trunk. I’ll get rid of it, and I’ll make sure Dad gives you what you want. Will you do that for me?”

She looks away, and stares out at the Statue of Liberty in the distance. I think I’m getting through to her, but I have no idea. I wait for her to mull it over.

“All right,” she answers after some time. “I’ll do it. For you. You’re a good boy, Jonathan. A good man. I’ve always been proud to have you as a son. You’re the best of your dad, and I love you.”

“It means a lot, hearing it from you. I love you, Mandy,” I tell her, and I mean every word. This woman is a gem. She has been just as kind to me as if she had been my own mother. It pains me to know she’s staring her own mortality in the face, and has to deal with a chronically unfaithful, highly disturbed husband as well.

“Do you want my advice?” she asks me. “I’ll give it to you anyway. Do not let your father drag you down.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “I will do my best.”

She pauses, and looks at me like she can read my mind. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“There was one more thing, but I’m not sure it makes sense to raise it with you.”

“You might as well tell me now.”

“Dad wants you to help him close the Warrior Revolution deal,” I tell her.

I’m almost unable to hold her gaze because I know it’s a tall order, and the timing couldn’t be worse.

“I’m certain this request is not coming from you, Jonathan. I have to hand it to your father. He’s got a lot of nerve.” She pulls her napkin from her lap and places it on the table. “Fine. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I need Solomon to agree in writing that this Warrior funding will represent his full divorce settlement. He can keep Sloan Sports and Entertainment, but he gets nothing else. I keep the house in Long Island, the cottage in the Hamptons. He can keep all of his real estate assets, and even the condo. He doesn’t see a dime of anything to do with Fairchild’s. My share of Fairchild’s will go to you and Claire when I’m gone. Oh, and one more thing. I don’t ever want to see him again. If he agrees to all of this, it’s a deal.”

I know Dad would never agree to these terms, but Mandy has the upper hand right now. What’s most important right now is I need to see what’s in the trunk. I need to get it from her today, before I leave for the Bahamas. After that, she and Dad can figure out the rest.

“That sounds more than fair, Mandy. I’ll pass that on to him. Can we take care of the trunk now?”

“Sure. I can’t stand holding on to it, anyway.” She picks up her purse and reaches inside, pulling out a locker key. “It’s in the south corner lockers at the post office opposite Grand Central Station. It’s not large. It’s actually as small as a shoebox.”

“Thank you so much.” I answer, taking the key from her.

She stands and is about to leave, but stops. “Jonathan?”

“Yes?”

“If you love your father and want to continue loving him, do not look inside the box. Find an incinerator and burn it.”

She puts her purse over her shoulder turns to leave. I get up and follow her out to her car in the parking lot. She kisses me on the cheek, and tells me to take care of myself before jumping inside. I wave as she leaves, and head back to my car.

I send a text to Rebecca to remind her when I’ll pick her up. I’m dying to fly out and leave this big pile of shit I’m sitting in. More importantly, I’m so curious about what’s in the trunk, I head right on over to Grand Central.