The Family You Choose (24 page)

"And what do you call what you’re doing to
me?"

"You don’t have any claim on her anymore, do
you? It’s over, isn’t it? One of you had to make a choice. She
chose me, you didn’t choose her. It doesn’t really matter which
order that came in, but that’s where we are now."

Stephen nodded his head slowly again, holding
Alex with his eyes. "How long has this been going on?" he said at
last. "How long has she been choosing you over me?"

"What difference does it make?" Alex said
with some pain. "I never would have had the chance if you’d been a
man and done the right thing."

"You have no idea what you’re doing. I’m
sorry, I thought hands off was understood. And I thought you—you of
all people!—owed me that. I never worried once."

"Do you want her? Hmm? If you do, why don’t
you march in there right now and tell her right now? Why don’t you
tell your wife too? Why don’t you tell everyone in the room about
the two of you? I think she’s in love with me, I really do. But I
think that grand gesture on your part might just be enough to tip
the scales back to you. Don’t you think?"

Stephen didn’t say anything, but his hands
shook. "If only everything were that simple," he hissed. "Too bad
we can’t all see other people like just that many things. You’ll go
far like that, Sheldon. But just make sure you always look over
your shoulder in case you didn’t mow someone over completely."

Alex was about to reply when someone coughed.
They both turned to see Jim Hendrickson, tall and slim, his
hairline just beginning to recede, standing in the doorway. "I’m
sorry to interrupt, but Anna’s asked me to fetch the two of
you."

"I’ll be out in a minute," Stephen said. "But
Alex was just leaving."

Jim nodded. "I’ll just tell Anna you’ll be
another minute."

Stephen grabbed Alex by the lapels again as
soon as Jim was out of earshot. "Do not interfere in my life again,
Alex. Stay away from me, stay away from my wife, and stay away from
my son. Whatever happens now, don’t let it touch us, or you’re
going to regret it." He threw Alex down, and went back into the
hall. As he entered, Tatiana exited. He held her eyes and shook his
head just as Alex had seen him do the first day he’d met Tatiana.
But now she stood very straight, turned away and walked to Alex.
Stephen glared at them for a moment before he went back to his
wife.

Miranda checked into the hotel in New York
City at ten on Saturday morning. It was a smaller room than she was
used to, but she didn’t have any company this time. She changed
into her black skirt and black boots and dropped her stuff off. She
couldn’t stay. She couldn’t be alone.

She took a cab to the Met and went to the
room with the Greek sculptures. She loved this room. It was a
testament to logic, to one culture’s belief in the beauty of
harmony and order. It wasn’t as frighteningly magnificent as the
Egyptian statues, which spoke more of gods and power. The Greek
room reminded her of the perfectibility of people. Such beauty and
order...but weren't they the ones who had locked the women up when
visitors came and made a big deal about democracy while keeping
slaves? She sighed. Where was perfection?

She left the museum at two. It wasn’t dark
enough yet. Kill a few more hours; then she could hit her usual
circuit. She wandered into the big stores, looking for something to
buy. The only things she still considered hers were what she’d left
at Zainab’s. She knew she should have more things, but she didn’t
want anything right now. Still, she forced herself to try on a few
items, if only to kill some time.

Four hours and two small shopping bags later,
she walked back to the hotel and dropped her stuff off. She put on
some makeup and left her room. Okay, now she could do it. She took
a deep breath and walked out of the lobby past the guests sitting
on the chairs and reading the paper…and back to the rest of her
life.

~~~

She got to the club at seven-thirty. At
first, she wanted to run out when she got in. She’d never gone by
herself. But it was Eighties night. Perfect. She ordered a drink. A
nice looking blonde guy came over and asked if she wanted to dance,
and once again she felt like herself.

She danced to
She Blinded Me with
Science
with the first guy, then a second guy for
Glamorous
Life
. She’d started dancing to
Let’s Dance
with a third
guy when she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Can I cut in?"

She stopped dancing. She stopped breathing.
Why should she be surprised?

She got brave. "Sure, lover." She turned
around. She felt like he was trying to pierce her with his eyes.
She smiled. She clasped her hands behind her head and moved her
hips and shoulders to the music. He didn’t move. "You know, this
doesn’t work if you don’t dance too."

"I want to talk."

"Sorry, no talking allowed." She turned back
around and started dancing with Guy Number Three again.

He was still behind her. "I want to
talk."

"No. Get out of here now."

"Sorry, I can’t hear you. The music’s really
loud."

"If I have to turn around again, I’m going to
punch you in the face."

"Hey, we’re trying to dance here," said an
annoyed patron next to Michael. Seething but still not turning
around, Miranda got off the dance floor and heard Michael follow
her.

She ordered a White Russian, knocked it back,
and turned around to face him. His mouth was smirking, but his eyes
were searching her. She didn’t care anymore.

"You were pretty hot out there," he said. He
looked at her like he owned her, and she wanted to slap that look
off his face.

"How long were you watching me?"

"Long enough to see you go through three
guys. Trying to prove something?"

"Just trying to have a good time like a
normal person. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. But you’re kind
of cramping my style now, so move along."

"What if that’s what I’m here for too?" He
moved closer, and she trembled in spite of herself.

"This isn’t a hookup spot. People are just
here to dance, by and large. So if you’re here for some action,
better look elsewhere."

"Great, what did you have in mind?"

She shivered. "Nothing at all—at least not
with you. See if you can find someone with some ideas, but I’m
going to dance now."

He put his hand on her arm before she could
walk away. "I didn’t sleep at all last night."

"Yeah, you looked like you might have
something to stay up for."

"I didn’t. I made a mistake. I want to
talk."

"And I made a mistake too," she said in a
sing-song tone, walking her fingers up his chest and then up to the
tip of his nose. "Last Friday. Well, maybe not that. So then last
Saturday, and then the next six days. But I’m done now. We’re
done."

He didn’t take his eyes off of her. "I did it
on purpose."

"That is so romantic, so sexy, I cannot even
tell you. Almost as hot as it is that you followed me all the way
here from Boston." She got right up in his face. She felt his heart
beat. She knew he could probably feel hers, and that he probably
knew that she was scared. "Go away," she forced herself to say.
"You got what you wanted—me, and humiliating me. You win. You won.
But you just can’t do any more harm."

Before Michael could say anything,
Housequake
started playing, and she smiled. She turned and
ordered a scotch, moving to the music, then shoved it in Michael’s
face. "Now if you’ll excuse me, this is pretty much the best dance
song ever, and I’m going to dance. And no, I won’t dance with you
because as I recall you’re a pretty lousy dancer."

"I’ve spent a lot of time in clubs."

"Too bad you didn’t know what they were for,
but that’s not a surprise."

She skipped away.
Just go away
, she
thought.
Please go
.

~~~

By the time he’d put his drink down, she was
dancing with Guy Number Two again. He watched her for a moment, her
back to him as she shook, gyrated and waved her arms in the air.
She turned a little bit and he could see that she was smiling at
someone else. He didn’t care who else was there. He followed her
and pulled her away.

"Get off!" she said but she wouldn’t face
him.

"Is this guy giving you any trouble?" Guy
Number Two asked.

"Why don’t you stay out of this?" Michael
said in his familiar, menacing tone. Miranda used the distraction
to wriggle away from him. Before Michael could follow her, Number
Two grabbed him by the shirt. Michael pushed him. The reply sent
him into the lap of someone at the bar.

Before he could get up, Miranda ran upstairs
to the coat check. He was right behind her. She was breathless by
the time she got to the door. "What kind of a place has this turned
into?" Michael heard her say as soon as he was in earshot. She was
pointing to him. "This guy would not leave me alone, and then he
starts a fight with someone else and practically throws himself at
some other girl at the bar. You know, I really thought this was one
of the safer places in the city, but I’m going to have to tell my
friends to go somewhere else."

The big guy at the door turned to Michael.
"Sir, is there a problem?" Before he could answer, Miranda bolted
out the door and ran to the first cab.

~~~

Miranda had made the cab driver drive around
for twenty minutes and then drop her off a block away from where
she wanted to go. Her hands had stopped shaking by the time she
arrived. Still, her heart was beating so fast she could barely
walk. A drink and some company might be just the thing she needed
to calm down.

A cute business-type with really short hair
was sitting by himself when she got to the counter. "Is this seat
taken?" she asked with a smile.

He looked her up and down and smiled back.
"No, please. Help yourself. Can I buy you a drink?"

"I’ve had two White Russians so far. What do
you recommend?"

"How about another?"

"Is that a good idea?"

"It’s the weekend. Rules are a little
different."

"And of course you’ll be a gentleman if I
need one?"

"Gentlemen are a little different on the
weekend too."

"Don’t I know it."

He ordered the White Russian and she sipped
it. She was hungry, and she was feeling the drinks more than she
usually would have. "So do you have a name?" he asked.

She looked up from her drink and shook her
head. "Not tonight."

"Fair enough." He leaned in and put his hand
on her thigh. He wasn’t as handsome up close. "So what’s say you
finish that drink and we find somewhere a little more private?"

Miranda was about to answer when she heard
Michael right behind her. "Take your hand off of her before I break
it. She’s not going anywhere with you."

The man laughed. "And who are you? The big
brother?"

Miranda still couldn’t look at Michael.
"Yeah, close enough. Thanks for the drink, sorry for the rest." It
wasn’t worth prolonging the ordeal in another place she used to
like. She jumped off the seat and ran to the ladies room. She
turned all three faucets on. She had just heard Michael outside the
door when she stood up on the toilet seat and pried the window
open. She jumped out when she heard Michael curse from the open
window. She ran through the alleyway away from the club entrance.
When she got to the street he wasn’t there yet. She stopped for a
moment to take a breath before she ran across to the next street.
Where to, where to?
She should just get into a cab and have
it drive her around. Christ, take her to New Jersey if that was
what it took.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck
stand up. She turned around. He was staring at her from across the
street.

She ran. He was on her block, and the cross
light was against her. She took a left, it was more crowded. She
made it to the end of that block, trying to hide with the other
people trying to cross. She couldn’t see him. She thought he was
gone. But then she felt him grab her arm and pull her off the
crosswalk.

She turned her back to him. She couldn’t look
at him without shaking. "That stunt with the bouncer was a nice
touch, but the bathroom window escape was beneath you." She could
feel the weight of his body behind her.

"Play to your strengths—or your opponent’s
weaknesses. Is it my fault you can’t help but get in to a fight at
a club? And who’d have thought that you could get through that
bathroom window?"

"I broke it."

"Thanks," she said, feeling her lips
tingling. "One more thing you’ve taken away from me." She turned
and forced herself to look at him. "What did you do, pay off a
cabbie to trail me from the club?"

She could practically feel his heart beat.
"Something like that."

"Is that supposed to be sexy? Hot? Romantic?"
She shook her head. "Nope. Just back to creepy."

"Like you said, play to your strengths."

It was too much. "Alright!" she said loudly,
throwing her hands up. "You win. You caught me. I can’t run as fast
as you can. I can’t pay off anyone as well as you can. Now what do
I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

He stared at her. "When was the last time you
ate something?"

He called for a cab and got in with her. She
drew her knees into her chest. She wasn’t surprised when he gave
the correct address for her hotel. She leaned her head back and
closed her eyes, willing the night to be a dream. But he was
staring at her when she opened them, and she felt him looking at
her even when she turned away.

They took the elevator up to her room. He
looked at her like he was about to say something, but then someone
else walked in.

They got into her room. She went into the
bathroom. She splashed her face. By the time she was out, he’d had
a pizza, orange juice and coffee delivered. "Eat something."