“I know Vanessa isn’t her. She has nothing to do with that part of my life. I’m over and done with that part, but since you want to bring the past up, it’s like you’re looking for a reason to get your ass handed to you. This is the way to do it.” I take a deep breath, attempting to center myself, not that it will work in any way, shape, or form. There was a time in my life when I wasn’t a recluse, when I was young, wild, and carefree. That all changed withher.It took years to get over what she did to me, how I was taken advantage of, how it was Ezra, Theo, and Boston who took me out one night, showed me the proof. I got rip-roaring drunk and kicked her out of my place the next morning once I was sober. That’s why I’ve put a shield around who I spend my time with. It’s the epitome of the phraseonce bitten, twice shy. “We’re not bringingherup, not now, not ever again.” Ezra’s doing what he does best, poking the fucking bear.
“We’ll agree to disagree. Now, take your best shot. It’s what you’ve been after all along, texting me at an ungodly hour this morning.” That’s how we finish out our morning, hit for hit, jab for jab, landing one after another, an even match. We were both after using our fists to numb the pain, me from my past, and Ezra he’s either here for the fuck of it or is battling his own demons. One thing is for certain: he’ll tell me when he’s good and ready, not a second earlier.
EIGHT
Nessa
I situp in my bed after a night of tossing and turning, the sheets a mess around my thighs, the comforter dropped to the floor, my body aching like it ran a marathon. Except I didn’t, would not, and will not ever subject myself to running of any kind. My body is a mess from the sheer torture of clothing, shoes, and being on display for too many hours to count. I should have known sleep wouldn’t have come to me easily; it was hopeful at best, thinking my adrenaline from the charity auction would come crashing down. It didn’t. The opposite is what happened. It probably would have if not for Parker Hudson. He was like a wrecking ball against an activist group, not caring who or what got in his way. And damn myself for feeling as much as I am after only just meeting him. It was too late last night and too early now to call Millie, which is on my list of things to do today. Once it’s a normal hour and the sun isn’t slowly creeping above the building in the distance. Forgetting to close my blackout curtains was nobody’s fault but my own. If I were working nights, I’d never forget something as simple as closing the heavy drapery. My mind wouldn’t be a jumbled mess from what the magazines and headlines call the billionaire playboy recluse. Whereas his other friends or business partners are seen coming and going, posing for the cameras, Parker is nowhere to be seen for at least the last ten years, well, except for his one and only social media sight. Still, there are hardly any posts. The bare minimum is all he has.
“Screw Parker Hudson, screw every delicious inch of him, screw his scent, screw his deep and luscious voice, screw the molten lava eyes and perfectly groomed hair,” I tell the empty room, stretching my arms above my head. Even that causes a twinge of pain. Weird, I figured my lower back, legs, and feet would burn like wildfire. It seems my whole body is going to give me hell today. It’s either that or whatever Millie has, she essentially handed off to me. I get out of bed, my whole body protesting, which is never a good sign. “Damn it, Millie.” I feel a chill sweep through my body, really hoping it’s my body that is just run down, grabbing my phone off the dresser in my bedroom as I make my way to the door. A hack I did when I started working nights, then going back to days like I’m a vampire one week and then a human the other. My phone would go off, lighting up, not to mention I’d play on it for hours, do work that could wait when I needed to sleep. So, I put the charger on my dresser, and it’s where it rests when I’m in bed, the healthiest habit I probably have to this day.
I look at the display. Not seeing anything pressing, I leave it where it is. Mom will call me later, at a more reasonable time. Parker has my number, though it’s doubtful he’ll use it after the way we parted. That leaves Millie, and if I’m only feeling half as bad as she is, I hope my best friend is in bed. The remnants of last night’s outfit are still in the pile on the floor in the bathroom. My bag is by the front door. The way my luck is running, the contents are spilled out of it, shoes long forgotten because as soon as the elevator doors closed, that was the first thing I took off. There were no more pretenses since I was in the comfort of my own home. Last night, I took quick shower, not bothering to wash the mountains of hairspray out of my hair, the main focus being on washing the sweat away along with the makeup. God, the amount that was necessary to wear is in actuality what I’d wear all together for a year. This morning, I’m going to take my time, or as long as my weary body allows me to. Then I’ll get out, grab a bottle of Gatorade, swallow some pain relievers, and be one with the couch. The fact that coffee, an energy drink, or even a Dr. Pepper doesn’t sound good to me is all too telling.
“Crap.” The light in the bathroom is bright. I avoid the mirror because I’m a damn mess in the worst of ways. The plus side of sleeping naked is, it’s one less thing to tackle. I turn on the water, loving that hot water is instantaneous, and step right in. I should have known nothing was going to go my way after getting that text from Millie. It was my dumb ass that went over there, bringing saltines, ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, thinking she was pregnant because her period didn’t come. It looks like it was something else entirely, and now, judging by the shivers I’m getting underneath the scorching-hot water, it’s my turn. I wash my hair with shampoo, arms dragging ass, but there’s no way I can’t finish the job, especially with the mountains of product in it. Which means I’m going to have to scrub it twice, not to mention condition it. The plus part is while it’s sitting, I can enjoy letting the hot water run down my body while relieving some of these aches and pains. I get to work, my mind replaying the whole stupid encounter with Parker, wishing like hell I could banish it from my memory. Taking care of my hair should be my only concern. Well, that and my face, along with my body. Instead, I’m sitting, praying like hell this is some weird sinus thing, change in pressure in the air, maybe the weather is doing something wonky. Because if this is a fever, I’ve just shared my yucky germs with over two hundred people, one of those being Parker Hudson, and the worst part of the equation will be, I’ll be the first one to reach out to a man who had no problem shutting me down. No woman wants to look desperate, and sadly, that’s exactly what I’ll look like in the worst way possible.
NINE
Parker
I’m sittingat my desk in my home office after Ezra and I went what seemed to be twelve rounds in the ring, both of us conceding when we were finally worn the hell out, then we called it done. We were both hungry, and our bodies were feeling like the forty-year-olds we are. A quick shower, changing into our clothes, and we headed to the diner around the corner, where we talked some more. Ezra went into detail on how he’d like to present to Taylor exactly what Four Brothers could bring to the table if this were to work out the way he wanted. I was all for it. Ezra was the frontrunner along with Boston. Those two could charm the panties off a nun with one look alone. After a breakfast that consisted of eggs, bacon, waffles, and black coffee, a much better outlook on how to fix up one major fuckup on my part, we went our separate ways.
I pull up Nessa’s contact, hit the call button, and bring the phone up to my ear. It rings a few times. I figure she’s still asleep after the event last night. She may not even answer.
“Hey, just the person I needed to call, except I fell asleep. Shit.” Her voice is husky. I chuckle at the unladylike language she uses. Other ladies in this three-ring circus would never.
“Hello, Nessa, I was unsure if you’d even answer the phone when I called. Did I wake you?” Her voice sounds as if she’s been asleep for more than the twelve hours since I dropped her off inside the building.
“Not really, no. I woke up this morning sick. I’m going to kick my best friend’s butt. Feel free to do the same thing when you’re also sick like I am now,” she mumbles into the phone. I can hear her teeth chatter as if she’s freezing. It may be New York, and while it’s still cold this time of year, she shouldn’t be freezing in her own apartment.
“I don’t get sick. I’m on my way to your place now.” I put my computer on sleep mode and stand up, my desk chair slamming into the bookcase behind me. I look down at the clothes I’m wearing; they’re decent enough. A pair of gray sweatpants, a black cotton tee. All I need to do is grab my keys, wallet, and put some shoes on my feet. Then a quick stop at the small grocery store that will have everything she’ll need to get back on her feet.
“No, Parker, you can’t. You’ll get sick, and then I’ll feel even worse. It’s bad enough I potentially spread my germs at the event last night, but maybe I’ve spared you. Stay home. I promise I’ll call you as soon as this fever goes away.” A yawn escapes her, letting me know I’ll be losing her if I don’t get a move on things.
“I won’t get sick. Send me the code to your place. I’m assuming you’ve got not a single thing to see you through this. There’s no way you’re going to be on your own through the worst of it.” I don’t leave room for her to argue, and truthfully, I doubt she’s got the energy for it.
“I’ll be fine. I’m going back to sleep now.”
“Nessa, either give me the code, or I’ll be banging on your apartment door after I bribe the attendant,” I tell her.
“Whatever, bossy pants. It’s eight-six-seven. Bye, Parker.” The distinct click in my ear has me seeing red.
“She hung up on me. What the fuck?” My hand runs through my hair, pulling at the ends, annoyed that the one woman who makes me feel anything at all has shut me down. Though not pushing things any further last night when Vanessa was more than willing didn’t help either. I’m jaded, through and through.
I walk through my brownstone, gathering what I need, knowing I’m going to be hoofing it to the parking garage where my car is stored on the rare occurrences I use it. One of these days, I’ll buy a home not in the city, have a garage, and not need to go into the office every day. That time isn’t now, but it will be soon. I’m not getting any younger, and my body tells me that after every session with Ezra. It doesn’t take me long until I’m at the front door, sliding my wallet in my front pocket, keys in hand, phone going back to my ear. I’m about to get a ration of shit for the call I’m about to place. It doesn’t take but one ring until she answers.
“Hello, Parker.” I know that tone. She’s fishing, which means someone has already called and given my mother the lowdown.
“Hey, Mom.” I walk the two blocks to where the parking garage is located, a few more steps until I’m at my Aston Martin. I’ll either need to wrap this conversation up quickly or talk to her the entire time I head to the grocery store.
“Have any important news to tell me about a certain friend?” Only Mom would allude to a woman without openly saying it.
“I take it Ezra has made his normal Sunday phone call. Good. I can spare you details since he’s hellbent on divulging my information. Vanessa Taylor is her name. She’s also sicker than a dog and refusing help. I know we were all going to have dinner tonight. Is there any way we can reschedule and for you to send me your chicken noodle soup recipe?” I ask, hitting the button on the key fob to remote start my Aston Martin DBS Volante with a sleek black interior and exterior, a fortune for a car that doesn’t get to be driven as much as it deserves.
“Don’t worry about dinner with me. We can reschedule whenever. I can even come into the city for lunch this week, make it easier on you.”
“Hold on, Mom, I’m going to lose you as I get in the car.” One of the reasons I was hoping this would be a short call. Now that I’m seated in the car, I’ll no doubt be on the phone for the foreseeable future. I love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not much for being on the phone unless absolutely necessary. I spend a lot of time on it as it is for work, never mind the fucking computer. “Okay, I’m back. We can do lunch; that might work better. Ezra is talking about taking Four Brothers into something bigger. It could potentially mean that my weekends won’t be my own.”
“That’s fine. If Wednesday is good, I’ll make the trip down, have lunch with my best boys, and maybe Theo and Boston will join us as well?” She’s fishing again. I have to give her credit; Mom is good at what she does.