Finding Love for a Cynic (10 page)

“And how long have you been in L.A.?” Delona inquired, a little too giddy.

“Slightly more than two years.  Although it isn’t Florida, I’ve come to enjoy the atmosphere here, especially the nightlife,” Roger replied.  He returned her gaze amicably while he swirled a glass containing expensive white wine in his right hand.

“Yeah, me too,” Delona stated absentmindedly.  She stared at the movement of the clear liquid in his hand as though he were moving the rock of Gibraltar.      

Koen rolled his eyes.  He knew Delona well enough to know she didn’t like the nightlife of L.A.  For weeks he had listened to her complain about how these “snobs,” as she called them, kept trying to impress her with such foolishness when she would rather be at home reading a good book. 
But no!  Roger so much as hints that L.A. nightlife is grand, and all of a sudden, she’s ready to stuff a small dog in her purse and go clubbing.  What the hell!
  He managed to keep his thoughts to himself by drinking from his glass of water.

“I suppose I should inform the two of you that Mr. Rainer has repealed his claim and dropped the lawsuit against you.  He turned out to be more bark than bite,” Roger joked with an uptight chuckle.

Delona laughed as though it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard.  “That’s wicked awesome!” she stated, placing her hand over her heart. 

The action drew the attention of both men to her ample breasts.  Koen didn’t like the way Roger was eyeing them.  Not one bit.  Somehow, he managed to keep a hiss from escaping his lips. They were his to gawk at and his alone.  

“I knew I could have faith in you,” she continued, not seeming to notice the effect she’d had on the both of them. 

Just when Koen was about to get his boots out, she excused herself to the restroom.  The two men stood as she scooted back from the table and departed.  They both watched her swaying backside affectionately as she made her way across the large dining room, stepping prudently around the busy wait staff.  Once she was out of range, they returned to their seats.

“So, Mr. Smith, or is it Mr. Ferreira?” Roger said, eyeing Koen smugly.

Koen could only stare back at him with his mouth agape. 

“Yes, sir.  I know who you are.  You honestly think you stand a chance with Delona?”  He continued when the only response to his question was a blank stare.  “Perhaps you’ve told her about your problem with handling alcohol, but I seriously doubt you filled her in on how you managed to drive a multimillion dollar business into the ground because of it.  Does she know about your rich uncle, whose last name you now carry, and how he had to step in to save face after you screwed everything up in Australia?  Or, how you couldn’t even get a job at a fast food restaurant because you were so far gone?”  He eyed Koen over the top of his wine glass as he sipped from it.  “I see the way you look at her,” he said, after putting the glass down.

“What’s it to you how I look at her?  You think she’s going to want to date a pompous jerk like you, especially after I tell her how nice you really are?” Koen retorted with venom.

“Come on now!  What do you think someone like you could do for her?  How are you going to put all that effort and time into helping her build a good reputation only to risk people finding out that she’s fallen for a drunk, a failure?  If you have even an ounce of respect for her, or yourself for that matter, you’d step off, man. You know she deserves a real man, not some loser hanging on his uncle’s apron strings.”

Koen tamped down the urge to jump across the table and throttle the guy.  He hated to admit it, but the asshole was right about him not being good enough for Delona.  He had told himself as much each time the opportunity to act on his feelings had arisen, even when those luscious lips of hers had cried out for his attention last Friday night.  He loved Delona, and that love for her made him want the best for her.  Roger Nielson may not be his first pick, but he wasn’t a bad guy.  The fact that he’d handled the lawsuit as well as he had only cemented that fact. 

Before he could respond, Delona returned to the table.  Roger played the gentleman by pulling her chair out for her while Koen gathered his wits about him.  The three of them were barely seated when the snake decided to make his move.

“I know this might fall outside the confines of professionalism, but might I be so bold as to ask if you’re available this coming Friday night?”

“I…I…think…so,” Delona stammered.  “Koen?”  She turned an inquisitive yet hopeful eye toward him.

“I have nothing scheduled for you,” Koen responded, successfully hiding the turmoil growing within him.  Roger’s haughty look didn’t help matters.  He knew the man was asking her out in front of him with the sole intent of disparaging him. Unfortunately, it was working.

“Good!  It’s a date then,” Roger stated, ultimately satisfied with winning Delona’s admiration.  “Why don’t I call you Friday evening at… let’s say six-thirty, and we’ll go from there.”

Delona beamed.  “Cool!”

***

            Koen left the restaurant in a daze.  He was surprised he made it home without causing an accident as he had driven wondering how this could be happening to him.  Throwing his keys and a brown paper bag onto the side table, he plopped down on his sectional and placed his head in his hands.  For the moment, he was content to sit there mourning his losses.  The two women he had managed to fall in love with during his lifetime had been taken away from him on the same day.  First his wife by the hands of death.  And now his Delona by an arrogant asshole.

            This was too much.  He needed a drink.  With speed, he snatched up the brown bag and headed toward the kitchen to find a glass.  On his way through the living room, something stopped him.  From the corner of his eye, the fading sunrays highlighted a picture frame.  He turned to meet Heather’s smiling gray eyes.  Slowly, he made his way toward the shelving where the picture rested, dropping the bag on the sofa table as he passed by it.  He picked up the photo and smiled, using his index finger to trace her golden hair as it flew out behind her in the breeze.  That had been one of the happiest times of their lives.  His Australian-based PR company had been up and coming at the time, and she had always wanted a sailboat.  On that day, he had surprised her with one.  He hadn’t been able to resist capturing her gratitude with the camera.  It had been the fondness for the water he developed through her that helped him stay sober for the last three years and rise from the ashes.  

Now, thanks to Delona, he had hoped that those days weren’t gone forever.  Yes, he would never be able to make more memories with Heather, but he still had the old ones to treasure.  And as Delona had pointed out, not everyone gets the chance to fall in love, let alone with their soul mate.  

Perhaps his love for Delona had been misplaced.  How often does one fall in love or think they were in love with someone who had saved them?  Wasn’t that called hero worship or something like that?  Sure, she had a great personality and made him laugh when no one else could seem to.  Yes, it was awesome to finally meet someone who could keep pace with you while eating, dancing, watching sports, etc…

But, did all this justify being in love with that person, even if she was beautiful and he spent every waking moment thinking about her?  Did the fact that those gorgeous legs and perfect breasts of hers drove him crazy really constitute love?  Oh, and let’s not forget the cute faces that she made.  Who was he fooling?  He let out a sigh. 

Replacing the picture frame on the shelf, he turned his attention to the brown bag containing his poison of choice.  What the hell was he doing?  Three years of sobriety and here he was about to throw it away all because of the words of some jerk who knew nothing about him.  The man hadn’t even gotten his story straight.  Koen knew he was better than that, and the last thing he should be doing was proving Roger’s point.  Delona needed more from him, even if only as a friend.

He removed the bottle from the bag, placing a kiss on the foiled label.  “Not tonight, my old friend,” he said to the fat U-shaped jug.  “I have a new friend to stay strong for now.” He made his way into the kitchen to pour the liquid toxin down the drain.

Chapter 12

Sonny: 
“T.G.I.F… This is your favorite DJ, Sonny Wales, coming to you larger than life on this beautiful Friday morning.  For those of you who have been following the Delona Raes love search, this may be her final week.  Rumor has it she just might have found Mr. Right.  Now for our first caller.

Caller:
  “Hi, Sonny.

Sonny:
  “Hi, and with whom am I speaking?”

Caller:
  “I’d rather not say.  If my great-grandchildren found out that I read these kinds of books, they’d never look at me the same way again.”

Sonny:
  “O-kay.  What’s on your heart, Ms. Incognito?”

Caller:
  “I just want Delona to know that her books bring tremendous joy to an old widow like me.  Especially the steamy parts.”

Sonny:
  [coughing, choking, wheezing]

Caller:
  “Sonny, are you all right?  Are you still there?”

Sonny:
  “Yeah… I’m here.”

Caller:
  “Are you all right, son?  You sound terrible all of a sudden.  You should be at home in bed.  Here, give me your address and I’ll bring you some chicken soup.”

Sonny:
  “That’s quite all right, ma’am.”

Caller:
  “You sure?”

Sonny:
  “Positive!”

Caller:
  “Oh well.  I hope the best for our Delona and look forward to her next sheet soak—”

Sonny:
  “Well, that’s all the time we have for today.  See ya.”

***

Friday evening could not have come fast enough for Delona.  The time that passed between the last luncheon with Koen and Roger and Friday afternoon had carried an underlying current that nipped vicariously at the friendship she held so fondly with Koen.  He had distanced himself from her and kept giving her short answers whenever she asked him a question.  What hurt the most was that he no longer joked with her.  He was all business now, barely smiling when she tried to joke with him.  She missed him.  She knew that her thoughts should be on Roger, whose call she was expecting within the next half hour, and felt a sliver of guilt that they weren’t. 

For the first time in a while, she wished Cara were home to give her some of that unwanted advice she was always so quick to throw her way.  Delona knew she didn’t deserve her roommate’s help.  She had snapped at her after Cara accused her of kicking Koen to the curb and being blind to matters of the heart.  She was convinced that Cara was hallucinating when she spoke about Koen’s supposed feelings for her.  She had spent a great deal of time with him over the last few weeks.  During that time he’d had plenty of opportunity to express these phantom feelings Cara kept saying he had for her, and to date, he had not.  Did Cara honestly think that she was supposed to sit around waiting for Koen when his interest in her was nothing more than as a good friend?  She wished it were different, but it wasn’t. 

Roger was the first man, besides Koen, to ever really stir something within her, and one would think that, after all those crazy blind dates, Cara would be happy for her.  Instead, she had referred to Roger as another stuffed shirt.  She had gone on to say he was nice enough, just not good enough.

Delona’s musings were interrupted by her cell phone.  “Hello,” she answered sweetly, assuming the caller was Roger.  “Hellooo,” she repeated when she got no response.  Just as she was about to disconnect the call, she noticed Koen’s picture on the caller ID.  “Koen?  Say something.  Are you all right?”  Panic seized her as images of him lying in an ally with his head split open assaulted her brain. 

Just as she was about to use the home land line to call for help, he responded.  “Lovvve…”  The rest of his words were muffled.

“Koen, I can’t understand you.  You need to speak up.”

“I said…um at the officsse…”  His speech trailed off again.

Delona didn’t need for him to repeat his words again.  Within minutes, she was in a cab heading toward the Soul of the Matter’s headquarters.  She rushed into her office to find Koen sitting behind her desk, his head nestled in the crook of his arm.  His usually controlled chaotic hair was unkempt and matted to his face with sweat.  The person before her was a far cry from the man who had defended her honor merely a week ago.   

She moved toward him with caution.  “Koen?” she called softly.  His arm shifted slightly in response.  That’s when Delona noticed the empty bourbon bottle in his hand.  Stepping closer, she gently removed it.

Koen’s head shot up from its resting spot on his arm.  He stared at her for a full minute, not appearing to see her.  A sad, sloppy smile replaced any words that should have been spoken, and his eyes began to glaze over.  Then recognition kicked in.  The smile left his face and shame filled those deep green eyes.    

Delona’s heart broke.  She knew he had been clean for quite a few years now, and she could only imagine what had caused him to regress.   Spotting his keys lying next to his arm on the desk, she gathered them before he could object.  She was about to do something she swore she would never do in L.A… drive. 

She helped him stand, the scent of the foul drink assaulting her nostrils as she did so.  With some effort, she was able to usher him out of the building and into his car.  Lucky for them, his address was pre-programmed into his GPS as his snoring filled the car within moments of their getting into it.  She was surprised to find that driving in L.A. traffic wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be. 

In no time, she found herself in front of the most beautiful contemporary oceanfront home she’d ever seen.  She parked in the driveway, hardly believing her eyes.  The large glass windows that adorned the front and the back of the house gave a perfect view of the ocean waves.  She could see everything through the large front door made of black steel and clear glass.  The large sunken living room housed a large brown leather sectional that faced a fireplace, which appeared to float in the glass wall on the far side of the room.  She started to guesstimate what a public relations specialist made, but then she recalled that this was his uncle’s home.