Nothing More Beautiful (31 page)

I waved my hand for him to stop. “I can’t do
it. I can’t take any more lies.” I stormed out of the room,
breaking for the elevator.

“It’s not a lie,” he said, rushing after me.
“I’ll prove it to you,” he added, stepping in front of me, slowing
me down. “He should be at Terrance’s right now, I’ll have him bring
up Cory and you can see for yourself that I’m telling the
truth.”

I shook off Vince’s arms and continued for
the elevator. The tears poured out of me as though I were a
faucet.

Vince snatched his cell. He pressed a button
and his phone beeped. “You rang, m’lord,” a voice joked on the
other side, imitating Lurch from the “Addams Family.”

“Terrance, bring up Cory.”

“Cory? Sure.” There were no more
exchanges.

I pressed the button, but the doors didn’t
immediately open. Vince grabbed my arms. “Wait. Just wait until
they get here. Please?” It was a plea.

I didn’t have a choice. The elevator stopped
at the level below us first. It whooshed up and the doors sprang
open. Next to Terrance stood a man with eerily similar features to
Vince, but they weren’t twins—not from the front, anyway. The two
stepped out of the elevator.

Cory fidgeted, clearly antsy.

“Cory, show me your tattoo,” Vince
commanded, and it was a command: severe and rough.

“My tattoo?” he stuttered. “That’s a little
odd, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Vince snarled.

Terrance turned to Cory, all his former
friendliness gone.

“Do it or you’re fired,” Vince
threatened.

Cory backed up. “Then fire me. I don’t need
this wacko shit.”

Terrance struck fast and hard, grabbing the
man by his shirt collar. The bodyguard’s movements scared the crap
out of me, and I retreated a step. “Hey, put me down, man.” Cory
struggled to say.

Vince yanked down the right side of Cory’s
slacks. “Look familiar?” he asked me, nodding at a colorful
tattoo.

I got closer for a clearer view of a
leprechaun standing underneath a rainbow with a pot of gold.
Despite the poor angle of the video, it did look like a match. All
my rage surfaced. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand slapped
the guy across the face, leaving a red handprint. “Why? Why did you
send me the video?”

Cory fought to get free of Terrance’s firm
hold. “I didn’t send you anything. I don’t even know you,
lady!”

I raised my hand again, but this time Vince
stopped me. “You had sex on my bed, Cory, and made a video of your
grand escapade. Did you give it to anyone?”

His eyes darted all around except at Vince.
“I didn’t know . . . I thought it was a joke. I
thought he was some perv looking to get off.”

Terrance slammed Cory against the wall.
“Who?” he growled. The bodyguard pinned the other man like a
ragdoll.

“He never gave me his name! I swear!” Cory
cried out. “I was approached at a bar a few nights ago by this dude
with cash. He wanted me to make a sex video in your bed. He said
not to talk or show my face in it. He said it was a joke, a prank.
He said he was a friend of yours, sir—an old college friend. He
paid me a lot, so I didn’t think much of it. It was supposed to be
a prank . . .”

“And what did this old college friend of
mine look like?” Vince asked, releasing my hand and stepping closer
to the man. I backed up for a better view, Vince and Terrance
standing only inches from Cory’s face.

“I don’t know, kind of scraggly,
unshaven . . . he had longer greasy hair.”

“Was he wearing a jean jacket?” Vince asked,
though it sounded like he already knew the answer.

“Yeah. Yeah he was,” Cory said excitedly.
“So he
is
your friend then? You know him.”

“Terrance, let him go,” Vince said, his
voice cold and dark.

Terrance glanced over at his boss. “You
sure?” Vince nodded.

“Thank you—thank you, Mr. Forte. I’m—”

Vince waved for silence. “Cory, you’re fired
for your little stunt, but you’ll receive a one-month severance
package for telling the truth. Breaching security like
that . . . having sex on my bed—
my
bed
.” He raised his voice, losing his composure. He pressed
the button for the elevator. “I mean, come on, what the hell did
you think would happen? That you’d get a raise? You’re lucky I’m a
generous guy, Cory. I’m a billionaire, remember? Billionaires can
make people disappear and pay all the right people so no one will
ask any questions. You should remember that in the future.” The
elevator opened, and he clapped Cory on the shoulder, and then
shoved him into it. “Terrance, escort him out of here.”

The man of few words stepped into the
elevator. The doors closed a second later and they were gone.

I stared at Vince, processing all the
events. “I have no idea what the hell is going on right now,” I
said, shaking my head.

“I think you need a beer,” he said with a
small laugh. “I’ll pour you one.” He swept into the game room and
poured two glasses from the taps. “System offline.” His loud, clear
words shut off the TV, speakers, and whatever else was on.

I leaned against the back of the couch,
looking Vince straight in the eye. “Does this have anything to do
with the guy Terrance was escorting out of your office that day I
came to see you?”

“Made the connection already?” He gave me a
thin smile and handed me the beer.

“You said he was someone from your
past?”

“Someone I’d like to forget,” he said,
sipping his pale beer. “His name is Luke. I met him in grad school,
with Alma. We all knew each other. He was going through some
problems of his own, and when I tumbled down into the world of
drugs, he tumbled with me. The difference between us was Alma. She
tried to help him like she helped
me . . . tried to help him to get clean, but he
didn’t like that she had a thing for me. He blamed me then, because
he was in love with her, and well, you get the picture.”

“Had yourself a love triangle,” I said.

“I never chose to be involved in it,” he
defended, “but yeah, you could say that. Anyway, he never got
clean, never came back to school, and then kind of disappeared.
Then a couple of weeks ago he shows up, saying he’ll go to the
press, tell them all about my past and all that shit, unless I pay
him 200 million or some crazy figure like that.”

“So you told him off and then as
revenge . . .”

He hung his head. “He gets at you. Crazy,
right?”

I put down my beer and grabbed his arm. “So
what are you going to do if he does tell someone?”

He looked at my hand, and then met my gaze,
his soft eyes glowing. “Well, like I said, it can’t stay a secret
forever, so I guess I’ll just deal with it.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

He placed his glass on the bar. “Hey, if it
weren’t for that tattoo, it would’ve fooled me,
too . . . and I know you’ve been hurt that way
in the past, but I was just hoping you trusted me enough to know
that I would never hurt you like that.”

We hugged each other tighter. “I guess the
pain is still there, still lingering, reminding me.” The tears were
flowing again. We both apologized over and over again until the
tears dried and the hurt faded.

“I think we should cross making a home video
off the list,” I said about twenty minutes later, snuggled on the
enormous couch. “I don’t think I’ll ever be in the mood for
it.”

He smiled. “Yeah, it kind of ruined it for
me, too.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “So we’re all
right, right?”

“I think so.”

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“It means yes, but I need a few days to
clear my head,” I explained.

“Oh, okay,” he sighed. “Well, I’m leaving on
Monday for San Francisco and won’t be back until Wednesday. I have
to meet with some investors down there. Is that enough time to
‘clear your head’?”

“It should
be . . . Shit,” I blurted, rolling off the
couch.

“What?”

“I forgot about Danielle, she’s parked down
on the street.”

“Are you leaving right now? I can give you a
ride home.”

“No, it’s all right. I need to stop by the
bakery.” I put on my shoes and started for the elevator. “There are
still some money issues to resolve.”

“All right.” He got up and trailed behind
me. Giving me a long embrace, he kissed me goodbye before I stepped
into the steel box. “I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.”

I blew him one last kiss goodbye before the
doors closed and I was left with my own puzzling thoughts.

V
ince posted a security duo
on my street before he left, worried that Luke might show up. One
of them even followed me to work and sat in the bakery most of the
day. It was supposed to be comforting, but it was almost as creepy
as if it were Luke. For all I knew, it
was
Luke, except
Vince said he screened the two guys, and picked them
personally.

The days slogged by, and when Wednesday
rolled around, I was excited that Vince was coming home. I felt
really out of it for about a day after the incident, questioning
our relationship—my commitment—but by Monday night I was longing
for Vince, missing his voice, his breath, his sweet smell.

Wednesday night was extra special because
Danielle was having her first improv show in northeast Portland.
She had been practicing for weeks, and wouldn’t let any of us know
about her progress, wanting us to wait for the show. Packed with
people, the small room was stuffy and hot. Danielle went on stage
with the first group, where they took turns asking the audience to
fill in the prompts. Ashley, Bridgett, and I filled in a few of the
blanks. Danielle joined our table when her group finished, and we
all patted her on the back for a job well done. I kept looking at
my watch as the night went by and other groups performed. Vince’s
plane was supposed to land at 7:10, but at 8:50 he still was a
no-show. The whole production ended by 9:30.

“Sorry Vince missed it,” I said to
Danielle.

She shrugged, not bothered by his absence.
She had been blown away at first by the story of the sex tape and
Luke, the drug addict. Now it was old news. “He’s a busy man,” she
said. “I just wanted my girls here.”

Just then, Vince walked through the door,
rushing to our table. “I missed it all, didn’t I?” he sighed. “The
plane was late getting in.”

“Yeah, but the brewery next door is still
open if you guys want to get drinks,” Ashley said.

I leapt to my feet, throwing my arms around
him. “Hey!”

He hugged me back. “Hey.” He kissed me
softly, and I could feel the others staring at us.

“I think these two are going to get some
private drinks,” Danielle laughed.

“That’s all right,” Bridgett said, “I’m
tired anyway. I think I’ll just head home.” Awkwardness filled the
air, mostly between Bridgett and Vince. Both glanced around the
room, avoiding eye contact. I hadn’t seen much of Bridgett outside
of work since the affair with the basketball cards. We had amicably
settled all that had happened, resolving our debt issue and her
desperate, spur-of-the-moment decision to steal, but there was
still some tension between us. We both knew it would be a while
before we reached our old “normal.”

Everyone stood after a short pause, and as
we parted for the night, Ashley caught Vince’s arm. “Hey, you still
owe me a timeslot for a presentation.”

“Oh, right.” Vince took out his wallet.
“Here’s my secretary’s card. Set it all up with her.” Ashley smiled
as Danielle pulled her away.

I got into Vince’s warm car. “How was the
trip?” I asked.

“Boring,” he replied, “and the whole time I
was thinking about getting back to you.” He turned south onto MLK.
“I have another surprise for you.”

“From San Francisco?” I asked, wondering
what gift he might have gotten me down there. He turned onto
Broadway heading for the Broadway Bridge and downtown. “Where are
we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a hint of
anticipation. He parked in front of an old two-story brick building
that looked like they were half apartments, half office spaces.

Following his cue, I got out of the car.
“What’s here?”

He walked up the steps and opened the door
for me, refraining from giving anything away with words. “Stay here
for a moment,” he said, heading up the staircase to the right. I
didn’t bother asking for how long. My phone vibrated about five
minutes later with a text from Vince that read,
“Room 226.”
I ambled up the steps, reading the numbers, and following them to
the end of the hall. A metal sign hung on the door and I laughed
when I read it:
“Private Investigator”.

I opened the door and found myself in a
waiting room with another door at the far end. There was a bag
sitting on the desk, which was presumably the secretary’s station.
I shuffled through the bag, grabbing a black vintage V-neck evening
gown, complete with black evening gloves, a black Empress Eugenie
hat, and a beige three-button wool coat with faux fur around the
neck.

It took a few minutes for me to put
everything on, but soon I knocked on the second door, fully dressed
in the 1930s costume. Walking through that door was like stepping
into a movie. Vince had the entire room decorated with authentic
antiques from the 1930s. At the far end sat Vince behind a huge
desk, his legs crossed on top of it, a cigarette in his hand, and
his fedora tipped over one eye. His charcoal drape suit was heavily
padded in the chest and shoulders.

“My secretary tells me you’ve got a case for
me? What seems to be the trouble, ma’am?” Vince asked in a deep,
smooth voice.

I knew nothing of role-play and I hadn’t had
time to prepare. What could I say to sound authentic? Did it even
matter? “It’s my brother, Mr. . .?”