What the hell is going on?
Chapter Nine
I was late meeting my sister at a bar on North Michigan Avenue. I had not received the confirmation call regarding the bi-weekly meeting with Mr. Gordon, and I wasn’t surprised. I guess that’s over. Never being able to see him again would be punishment enough, I supposed. I glanced out the window of the cab, not really seeing the cars or the people. They were an amalgamation of colorful smears, blurring before my eyes. Life had continued on around me…but I was stuck.
You’re gonna need a shrink, Gretchen. You’ve dug yourself in good.
Shut up.
Emily was flying back to Honduras tomorrow, and this would be our last night together. I struggled to put on a game-face, hiding the depression behind a happy-looking veneer. After paying the cabby, I stepped into the street, the smell of coffee with a hint of sewer assailing me. The establishment I entered was decorated with darkly paneled walls and draped in velvety purple curtains. It was packed with locals and tourists. My eyes focused on the bar, finding the woman I was looking for, sipping a drink. I waded through the noisy throng to reach her.
Her eyes lit up. “Hey, you!” She slid from the stool and hugged me.
“Hi, Em.”
“Took you long enough.”
“Sorry.” She was two years younger and far more attractive than me, or at least I thought so. She’d poured her lithe frame into a slinky dress that ended above the knees. “What are you having?”
“Apple martini.”
The bartender came over. “What can I get you?”
“A mimosa.” He nodded and reached for a champagne bottle. I eyed my sister. “So, you ready to go back?”
“Yep.”
“Not tired of the jungle?”
“Nope.”
“You’re nuts.”
“We’re both nuts. But you knew that.”
The bartender handed me the drink. “Thanks.” I had a sip, enjoying the fruity carbonation.
“So what’s going on? Something’s been bugging you.”
I sighed. “Guy problems.”
“You gonna spill the beans, or am I gonna have to get out my crystal ball?”
I stared at the liquor bottles against the wall. “I’m such a fuck up. I can’t do anything right.”
“What are you talking about? You made the clinic in Santa Rita happen. You opened one downtown and another’s on the way. What the hell? How does that make you a fuck up?”
“My life’s in the shithole.”
“Well, so’s mine. It’s all work and no play. The right guy will come along. You hang in there.”
“I found him.”
“Yeah?” A shapely brow lifted.
“He hates me. He’s…weird.” My shoulders slumped, and the happy veneer faltered. “I’m always attracted to the weirdos.”
“What happened?”
“He’s…er…kinky.”
“Oh, Jesus, now what? Is he like that guy who lived with his sister in the basement?”
I nearly choked on my drink. “No! Oh, God. I’d totally forgotten about that creep.” I hit her shoulder lightly. “Ugh. Did you have to bring him up?”
“That was a real winner,” she laughed. Several interested male gazes turned to observe Emily.
“No. He’s just eccentric. I screwed it up…well, I never really had a chance.”
“What’s he look like?”
“He’s so…intense. Charismatic.” I shrugged. “He’s just awesome, but I don’t really know him.”
“Tall, dark hair, mid-thirties?”
“Yeah. How’d you guess?”
“That guy over there’s staring at you.” She pointed behind my head.
I glanced over my shoulder, recognizing the man standing by the doorway. “Oh, shit!”
“Is that him?”
“Yeah.”
“Looks like he’s found you.”
“Oh, my God.” Would I be arrested now? I didn’t see the police. It looked like he was alone. “I don’t know what he’s doing here. Must be coincidence.” Or the beginning of a nightmare.
“Um-hum.” Emily sipped her cocktail.
“He’s coming over!” My first instinct was to hide behind the bar, but it was too late.
“The Fox sisters,” he said evenly. “It’s good to meet you, Emily.” He held out his hand. Here was the man who would not shake my hand when we first met. I’m sorry. I don’t shake hands...
“I’ve heard about you. You provide our funding. Thank you so much. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.”
His attention was on me. “I need to speak with Gretchen, if you don’t mind. My car’s waiting.”
Emily winked. “Looks like you’ll be going then.” I stared at him dumbfounded while my sister hugged me. “Call me tomorrow before my flight. He’s gorgeous,” she whispered.
“He’ll probably take me to the police station.” He had overheard every word I said.
“No he won’t, silly,” Emily laughed. “Always such a ham.” She gave me a look.
I grabbed my purse. “Time to face the firing squad.”
“Have fun.”
Oh, yeah, loads.
A sleek black car was waiting for us, and the chauffer held open the door. “Thanks.” I got in and slid to the end of the seat. Mr. Gordon joined me, his expression void, yet interested. “Okay, what do you want? I thought you were going to ruin me? I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”
“I am making a move.”
“How so?”
“I’m here with you now.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my apartment.”
That was a shock. My mouth hung open, my brain having frozen. He stared at me for a long time, so long, in fact, that I began to tingle everywhere. Whether he felt the buzz of recognition or not, I didn’t know, but I felt it. It pinged between us like a sensual static charge, making me almost dizzy with longing. When I was on the edge of not being able to take it another moment, I saw him inch towards me. I slid down the seat, and we collided, our mouths fusing, my arms snaking around his neck. The kiss was hungry and unapologetic, our tongues meeting, deepening the connection. I was utterly lost in him, my body pressed to the steely length of his chest. His hands were on my back, pulling me further into him, while the sweetness of his breath filled my lungs.