30
Since my unwanted reunion with my dear old mother, I'd made changes. I'd had to. Someone knew about Kyra, and he or she had my home address. Going back to my old condo ceased being an option the minute I left the gym's parking lot.
I'd had my home invaded one time. By Kyra. She'd broken in and ripped up my furniture, clothing, and shoes. She destroyed my electronics equipment and shattered my CDs. Then she called me to gloat. She wanted to get a rise out of me. Wanted to have me flustered. Wanted me to be scared.
But she was stupid.
Had she been smart, she would have never contacted me. The move I made this time, I would have had to have made back then too. It would have been unavoidable. But Kyra had been in over her head. She didn't know who she was fucking with.
The person who had sent my mother my information was no fool.
He or she had made the move and remained silent. Remained hidden in the goddamn shadows. I didn't want, to but I had no choice but to move. I also ended my membership at the gym.
After hanging up with Marlene, I went to Myles's luxury penthouse in Harlem. I hadn't spoken to him, but I'd kept tabs on him. He hadn't moved after Kyra disappeared, and he'd kept his routine pretty much the same. The spouse was always suspect number one, so I'm sure his movement or lack thereof had been an effort to keep the police from breathing too hard on the back of his neck.
I could have called and asked him if he'd given my personal information to anyone, but I needed to see him answer the question. There are people in the world who are paid by the government to be human lie detectors. They can tell by a person's change in speech, breathing pattern, and posture whether he has been lying. They can tell by the eyes, the muscles in their jaws, the sweat that trickled down their brows. It takes years of intense and thorough training to become that astute. The money spent, the time invested to acquire that skill, would be a complete waste of time when dealing with Myles. If the fate of the world relied on him being able to tell the whitest of lies, then we'd better pray for another big bang somewhere down the line.
I wanted to look Myles in the eye and have him tell me that he didn't know what I was talking about. That, other than Kyra herself, he'd never brought my name up to anyone.
I waited for three hours in the lobby of his building, having the doorman call him every twenty minutes. I even had him go up to Myles's floor a few times to knock on the door. Unfortunately, there was never a response. I hated waiting that long, but someone knew where I lived and they knew about Kyra, and I had to make sure that Myles wasn't that someone.
After three hours of wasted time, I left and went to his second home: Starbucks. He had a gambling problem and every day, rain or shine, Starbucks was where he went to sit with his laptop and place his bets. I'd thrown his laptop into the middle of the street, not to cure him of his problem, but rather because he'd annoyed me. Myles allowed Kyra to wear the pants in their household. I didn't care one way or the other who ran things in his home, but because I hated the bitch, his deference to her pissed me off. I waited at the café for an hour, but Myles never showed.
Frustrated, I left and got a penthouse suite at the On The Ave Hotel across from Central Park. I called Marlene as I stood on the balcony and looked down at the park.
“What did you find out from Lisa?”
I was doing my best to remain calm, remain collected, but it was a challenge. There was a certain level of control that I'd lost with someone knowing the things he or she knew, and that had me uneasy. I never liked not having absolute control. Kyra had taken it away from me once and I swore that wouldn't happen again. Now there I was on the balcony at a hotel instead of being at home on my couch, listening to Pink Martini.
Marlene sighed through the phone. “I've called her over and over, and left numerous messages, but I can't get her, and she hasn't returned my calls.”
I slammed my hand down on the balcony's rail.
“I know that's not what you wanted to hear, Lisette, but it's the only thing I can say.”
“Did you try her house number?”
“Yes, of course. And I got the same result. I tried mutual friends, too, but none of them know where she is either.”
I ground my teeth together as car horns cursed for me from the busy streets fourteen floors below. “What about our other clients? Have you called them?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“None of them had ever heard of Kyra.”
My turn to curse this time. “Shit.”
“Did you get anything from Myles?”
“Not yet.”
“Where are you, Lisette?”
I looked out past Central Park, across Madison Avenue. New York City didn't have bright stars in the sky to admire the way states in the South and Midwest did, but what it did have were lights and sounds. From cars, from buildings, from people. There was a soul to New York City. A soul different from any other city in the world. On The Ave boasted about the panoramic view in their brochure and on their Web site. It was a major selling point. Had the night been different, I would have stood naked on the balcony and enjoyed the sights and sounds of a city unmatched. Of course, had the night been different, I would have never been here.
I clenched my jaw. I said, “I'm at a hotel in the city.”
“Are you sure you're safe there? You can come here if you want.”
“I'm fine,” I said.
“What are you going to do?”
I took a breath and exhaled slowly, trying to find my calm.
What was I going to do?
Someone connected to Kyra was out there. What was he planning? Was she bluffing? Just playing some kind of twisted joke? Did he or she really know something?
Was this about money?
Did he really know something, and if that was the case, was this his way of getting me to keep what he knew a secret? However much that may have been.
What if it wasn't about money?
This person claim, to know about my involvement with Kyra. Was this about revenge? Was that what he or she was gunning for?
Revenge like Steve.
My mind went back to the gym when it had been raining. Revenge had been the fuel for Steve's fire then. I'd humiliated and screwed the hell out of him. There were plenty of other Steve's out there. Plenty of others who'd had the scales unbalanced in their ex's favor.
I was a home wrecker.
It was a lucrative occupation.
The potential for danger was always there, but the way I operated and conducted my business kept the danger level low. Steve had been the only problem and that had been because of Kyra.
She was an anomaly.
And she was gone now.
Marlene wanted to know what I was going to do.
I wanted to give another answer, but at the moment I had no other answer to give. I said, “I don't know yet.”
“Jesus, Lisette,” Marlene whispered, her voice thick with worry.
“Keep trying Lisa,” I said.
“I will.”
In the background, Benjamin made a noise, a soft whimper. Marlene shushed him softly.
“Marlene . . . has anything suspicious happened on your end?” I hadn't thought about it until that very moment. Someone was quite possibly gunning for me. If that were the case, to what means would this person go?
A second or two of silence passed before Marlene answered. “No. Lisette . . . do you think Benjamin and I could be in danger?”
I frowned and, as reassuringly as I could, said, “No. Whoever this person is, they've made their move. This person is out for me alone.”
“Are you sure? I . . . I have Benji. I If I need to leaveâ”
“You and Benjamin will be fine.”
“What about Aida? Should we warn her about what's going on?”
“No. This all happened before her. She doesn't have anything to do with this.”
“OK,” Marlene said, doubt in her voice.
I needed to get off of the phone. I needed to sit and breathe. Talking to Marlene was stressing me out. I said, “Call me as soon as you hear from Lisa. She's the key to this.”
“Lisette, I know this is something you've never done, but do you want me to contact Shante Scott and cancel the arrangement? I mean, with all that's going on, I don't see how you can really focus on getting this done right now.”
“I'm not canceling anything,” I said with an edge. Her question irritated me. It reminded me again of the control that I could feel slipping away.
Marlene wouldn't give up. “But, Lisette, I justâ”
“I said no, Marlene. Whoever this person is, I'll find them and deal with them. In the meantime, I have a job to do, and it will be done.”
Marlene sighed. She wanted to protest again. I could hear it in the way she breathed. But she knew better. Conceding, she said, “OK. Just . . . just be careful, Lisette. Oh, and Rebecca Stantin called again. She's asked to meet with you again. What did she want?”
I frowned and shook my head. “To waste my time,” I said and then ended the call.
The next day I rented a new condo on the Upper West Side of the city. I paid a moving company extra to pack up my things and deliver them that same day.
Two days had now passed, and Marlene still hadn't found Lisa, while I still hadn't found Myles. I was frustrated and, as much as I hated to admit it, I was on edge.
I looked at myself in my bedroom mirror. I was naked, letting the air dry off the beads of water from the hot shower I'd just taken. Pink Martini played softly from my iPod in the living room. My song on repeat.
BlackBerry in my hand, I dialed Ryan Scott's cell number. My secret admirer would have to take a back seat. I had a job to complete.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ryan.”
“Lisette? Wow. It's been a couple of days.”
“I've beenbusy.”
“I'm glad you haven't forgotten about me.”
“Haven't forgotten,” I said. “Just a lot going on.”
“Care to tell me about it over dinner?”
My mother's unwanted appearance. A secret admirer who brought Kyra back to life. Lisa and Mylesâboth still missing.
I said, “I don't want to do any talking tonight.”
Ryan said, “OK.”
“On The Ave Hotel by Central Park. Get a room. A penthouse suite. I'll meet you there.”
I hung up the phone and looked at my body. Tension had my muscles tight. Frustration and irritation had my blood on fire.
I hadn't been able to enjoy the view last time. Tonight I wanted to release on the balcony with the sounds of New York as the backdrop.
31
On the balcony of the On The Ave Hotel.
Naked.
Sitting on top of Ryan.
My hands were pressed down on his chest, the tips of my fingers touching tiny bits of scab from when I'd dug in with my nails and had drawn blood. Ryan's hands were clamped around my ass, his fingers squeezing my cheeks, as he drove himself into me. Hard, deep thrusts.
I bit down on my bottom lip. Took short, quick breaths. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, trailed down from my neck, past my breasts to my stomach.
Ryan looked up at me and smiled. I could tell by the overconfident glint in his eyes that he thought I was sweating, biting my lip, and inhaling and exhaling quickly because of the sex. Because of how he was thrusting back and forth. Because of how he rotated his waist to the right and then to the left.
The sex.
The other times he'd been inside of me that had been the case. I'd sweated because of the physical workout. I'd bitten down on my lip because of how deep he'd gone. I'd taken quick breaths because of his back and forth motion.
The other times.
But not this time.
On my mind, refusing to leave me alone, were questions. Who'd sent my mother the clippings? How had they known how to contact her? Who knew about Kyra? What did they want? Why hadn't they reached out yet? Were they even planning to? If soâwhen? More importantlyâhow?
Question after question after question.
I wanted to fuck on the balcony amid the warm, humid, sticky nighttime air to escape the unanswered questions momentarily. I wanted to cum in waves as New York City applauded with its unending activity on the streets below. But tonight, no matter how tightly I closed my walls around Ryan's shaft, there was no escape.
I pushed off of Ryan's chest, sat straight up, arched my back, and looked up to the dark, starless sky. I tried to focus, tried to run away from the questions, but yet again, they kept up with me stroke for stroke.
It was frustrating.
Ryan thrust himself up into me. He palmed my breasts. Sat up and took them into his mouth. Ran his tongue over and around my nipples.
This was supposed to feel so fucking good.
I tried again to focus. Tried again to put my mind where my body was. But I couldn't. Someone knew. And that was fucking with me.
Ryan released my breasts and leaned back into the chaise we brought out onto the balcony. I looked down at him. His jaw was tight, his nostrils flared. I bore down with my hips. Closed my walls tighter.
Ryan said, “Fuck!”
One or two more pushes down with my hips and he was going to bust his nut and his condom would be full, while I never even got close.
I climbed off of him, went to the balcony's rail, leaned on it and looked down to the city streets.
Behind me, Ryan said, “What the . . . ? Lisette . . . What's wrong?”
I said, “Nothing.”
“So why'd you stop?” His tone was raw. He'd been so close.
“You were about to cum.”
“Yeah?”
I turned and looked at him. “I wasn't.”
Shock and disbelief flashed in his eyes for a moment. He hadn't expected that response. Every woman came when he was inside of them. That's what the expression on his face said. How the hell could I not have already or at least been close to it?
He nodded and said, “I see.” He rose from the chaise and went into the room. He came back seconds later, his condom removed. His expression was cocksure again, as though he'd been unfazed by not being able to get off.
I turned my back to him and looked out into the nighttime, my eyes searching for a person I couldn't find, but had to.
Ryan stepped behind me and kissed the back of my neck. “You are addictive,” he said.
I said, “Is that right?”
Another kiss on my neck. “Definitely.”
I gave him a “Hmmm,” but said nothing more.
“I'd love to see you more.”
“I don't think your wife would like that.”
Ryan scoffed. “My
wife
,” he said. “That's a joke.”
“You chose her.”
Ryan let out a frustrated exhale, moved to the balcony, and leaned on the rail beside me. “She says that she wants to fix things between us. She says she knows she's been the cause for the distance between us. She's been talking about looking into pills to increase her libido. And if that doesn't work, then seeing a doctor about it.”
“Sounds like she doesn't want to lose you.”
Ryan shook his head. “It's too fucking late for that.”
I raised an eyebrow. He was good. Completely convincing. I could see how the average woman who didn't know his real story could fall for the bullshit.
“I have a business meeting in Virginia next week,” he said. “Virginia Beach. A four-day meeting. I was going to ask you to come, but my wife . . . she invited herself.”
I hmmed. “Maybe Virginia Beach will be the remedy. You can fuck her on the beach.”
Ryan turned and looked at me. “I want to fuck you on the beach.”
“Pretend your wife is me.”
“There's no substitute for the real thing.”
I shrugged. “Well . . . I won't be at the beach, so you better figure something out.” I walked away from him, went into the suite, and grabbed my clothes.
Ryan followed me inside. “You're leaving?”
“Have things to do,” I said, slipping on my thong and bra.
“Are you sure I can't have your number?”
“I'm sure.”
Ryan frowned. “I want to see you when I get back.”
I slipped on my blouse and jeans. “Maybe.”
“Is that a maybe that will become a no again?”
“It's a maybe,” I said.
Ryan nodded. “Call me next Friday, then.”
I slipped on my pumps and grabbed my purse from the chair. I looked at him. Even limp, he was impressive. I said, “Better get rid of the rest of those scabs before Virginia Beach.”
Ryan looked down at his chest and shrugged. “Maybe I'll just leave them there for her to find.”
My turn to shrug. “Have fun in Virginia.”
I turned and headed to the door. As I opened it, Ryan said, “Next Friday, Lisette, call me. We can go out for dinner again.”
“Friday's a bad night for me.”
“How about Saturday?”
I waited for a moment before I answered. Let him believe I was really giving it some thought. “Saturday might work.”
“OK, so, dinner?”
“Maybe,” I said, and then walked out.
Next Saturday. He would definitely see me. And then he'd regret ever laying his eyes on me.