After Hours (22 page)

Amera called Florence for the tenth time, wondering why her friend wouldn’t answer. She’d left her messages and sent her texts and emails and gotten no reply. She hadn’t spoken to her since she’d last seen her at the hospital several days ago. She refused to believe what Curtis had told her about Peale House. Florence was a kind person and had suffered so much, she wouldn’t use her position as a means to defraud people. Curtis was just a vindictive bastard who didn’t care. No, that was wrong. He did care, he cared about a little girl, but not her. She’d never mattered to him.

Amera drove to Peale House, briefly thinking of Curtis’ warning before brushing it aside. He had no right to tell her anything. She heard the sirens before she saw them. Amera drove up to the building and found it surrounded by police and an ambulance. She saw a stretcher being carried away into a van from the morgue. She parked and jumped out and saw Florence in tears. She ran up to her.

“What happened?”

Florence spun around with a mask of rage. “Why couldn’t you stay away?”

“What?”

“You killed him!” She lunged at Amera, scratching and punching her face before pulling her hair and biting her arm. Amera fought back but she was no match to Florence’s fury and it took three police officers to pull her away.

Amera put a hand to her bleeding face and stared at her friend confused. “Florence--“

“He wouldn’t have done this if not for you. He was good to me. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He put the gun to his head but you killed him!”

Amera could only stare at Florence as the officers dragged her away and put her in a cruiser. One of the EMTs approached Amera, offering assistance, but she waved him away.

“I told you to stay away from here.”

Amera froze at the sound of Curtis’ voice. He was the last person she wanted to see. She turned and headed to her car.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. He swore when he saw the bruises and scratches. “Em I--”

She slapped him with such force that her hand stung from the impact. “Don’t ever touch me or call me that again.”

“He took the coward’s way out.”

“What?”

“He didn’t want to face his crimes and didn’t have the fight to run from them so he left Florence to clean up his mess. She’s going to need a very good lawyer. Fortunately, I have enough connections to keep Peale House going while we restructure everything. I’ve hired a new director and some more employees so--”

“How much profit?”

He blinked. “There’s no profit.”

“In your hands you’ll turn it into one, right? That’s what you bastards are good at.”

He nodded. “You’re right,” he said, releasing her then walked away.

Amera stared at his back for a long moment then turned and walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t know how far she walked before the tears began to fall. She’d never seen such hate on Florence’s face before. She couldn’t believe that Curtis had been right about them.

She couldn’t trust people. Florence had betrayed her and she should never have opened her heart to Curtis. She’d broken her rules and suffered for it. But she wouldn’t again.

She remembered the pain she felt when her clothes from Curtis’ place arrived at her door. But she fought her sadness with an iron will. She was determined not to be unhappy. She would never be vulnerable again. She didn’t understand people and all she saw was that they hurt each other. Just like Curtis’ mother hurt her son, Kyle hurt his wife and she hurt him in return, and Florence hurt her. People weren’t meant to be trusted. Fleeting foolish love was all one could hope for and she’d tasted it and found it bitter.

She thought about the Black Stockings Society. She’d gotten to live a little dangerously and gotten a great wardrobe out of it. But their guarantee of love had been a false claim. She didn’t blame them. She blamed herself for believing them. Curtis had made his way in this world by not caring and she would too. He hadn’t been fooled by Peale House like she had. He kept himself distant and kept himself safe. She would follow his example and focus only on building her career.

She pulled out her phone when it buzzed and saw a text from Owen.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

It was a strange question. How would he know she was going somewhere? Unless...She looked around then saw Owen waving from his car behind her.

She walked up to him. “What are you doing?”

“Following Bishop’s orders. He told us to look out for you.”

“Us?”

“Never mind. Forget I said that.” He opened the passenger side. “Let me drive you back to your car.”

“I can walk.”

“It’s a long walk. Several miles in fact.”

She paused. “Miles?”

He nodded.

Amera sighed, suddenly feeling weary without her anger to fuel her. “Okay,” she said getting inside.

“Do you want to stop by the hospital?” he asked pulling from the curb.

“No.”

“Bishop told me about the little girl from Peale House, Margaret.”

“Maya.”

“Yeah, Maya. She’s awake now, but she’ll never walk again.”

A heavy feeling settled in her stomach and she felt as cold as the late December day. Maya would never dance again and create the magic she loved. Amera thought of going to see her, then decided to stay away. She had nothing to offer the little girl. She privately hated how she only thought of Maya with pain and a tinge of jealousy. She’d been jealous that although she’d tucked Maya into bed, the little girl had offered Curtis the present, not her. And although she’d played his wife and helped him through a difficult time, in the end Curtis had held onto Maya’s gift, and offered to adopt her and let Amera go. Even under false pretense, to others she’d still remained invisible. Why didn’t anyone remember her? Make her feel that what she gave was important? He’d said he loved her then withdrawn what he had said so quickly to cling onto a string of plastic beads.

Amera tugged on the ring on her finger, surprised to feel it move, when it hadn’t so much as budged before, then she pulled it off. She held it out to Owen. “Here.”

He glanced at the ring then looked back at the road. “What?”

“I want you to have it.”

“What would I do with a ring like that?”

“Lots of things. If you’re a true romantic you can give it to the woman you plan to marry some day.”

“If I give her something like that, she’ll think I’m rich.”

Amera stuffed it in his coat pocket. “Then sell it.”

He took the ring out of his pocket. “Bishop would kill me.”

“Stop exaggerating.”

“I’m not. Some people don’t think Vernon’s death was really a suicide. That bastard’s capable of anything.”

“He’s not capable of that.”

“How do you know? The Bishops can make something happen with just a phone call.”

Amera rolled her eyes, angered by the assumption. “I know Curtis. He may be a lot of things, but he’s not a killer. You’re just saying that to annoy me.”

Owen shook his head and set the ring on her lap. “No, I said it to see how much you still care.”

Camille sat in her conservatory finishing lunch with Kyle, as a hazy January sun hung in the sky, amazed by how much had changed in a few weeks. He and Heidi were working on their marriage and Damon had become less destructive. She still wished she’d had a chance to talk with Curtis more, but had been glad she’d at least been able to see him, although she knew it was probably the last time. Her assistant bustled into the room. “Um..your son is on the phone.”

“My son?” She looked at Kyle. “He’s right here.”

“No, the other one.”

Camille sat up stunned. Curtis was on the phone? She took a deep steadying breath then answered. “Hello.”

“I forgive you,” he said with such sincerity it brought tears to her eyes. “I understand that you had to make a choice.”

“I regretted it.”

“Don’t. You did what you thought was best.”

The weariness in his tone alerted her that something was wrong. “What has the bastard done?”

Curtis laughed without humor. “What a bastard always does.”

“If he forces you to make a choice you have to ignore it.”

“It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.” She hated to hear her son in pain, but there was nothing she could do. They were still strangers. But if she couldn’t be his mother, she could be his guide. “It won’t be easy, but regret is a torturous monster. Your father believes in black or white, winners or losers. But the world has many gray areas and that’s where the wise and happy reside. It’s called compromise.”

“You know he won’t,” Curtis said.

“Exactly, so you must change the rules and play a new game. A game you can win.”

“And if I fail?”

Camille shook her head. “If you fear failure you’ve already lost.”

He hesitated. “It’s too late. Even when I win, I lose.”

***

She was almost done.
Amera looked at her bags full of clothes ready for donation with pride. She would never go to another party and most of the outfits would go to waste in her closet, clearing them out was the best thing to do. She had handed in her resignation, but wasn’t concerned about getting another position. She already had two interviews lined up for next week. She’d set some items aside to give to Susan whose calls she’d been ignoring for the last week. She didn’t want to lose her as a friend, but couldn’t talk to anyone right now. She placed the bags near the door and was about to turn on the TV when the doorbell rang.

She opened it and saw a woman who looked familiar. “Hello?”

“You haven’t worn your last pair yet,” she said.

Amera frowned confused. “I’m sorry?”

The woman held out her hand. “I’m Rania.”

Amera nodded now remembering her face from the video message she’d received from the Black Stockings Society. “A pleasure.”

Rania walked in and sat down. “Why haven’t you worn your last pair yet?”

“I didn’t realize I was on a time schedule.”

“So you were planning on wearing them later?”

“Yes. Would you like something to drink?”

“When?” Rania asked, ignoring her question.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” Amera said taking a seat in front of her.

“Do you think I’m here to amuse myself? I always know when a member is about to give up.”

“I haven’t given up anything.”

“Really?” Rania crossed her legs then pointed to the bags of clothing in the corner. “Then what are those doing there?”

“Just a donation.”

“You just got new clothes how come you’re getting rid of them so soon?”

Amera shrugged. “I won’t have use for them any time in the future.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Rania nodded slowly, as if trying to comprehend Amera’s words. “So you
don’t
know when you’ll wear your last pair of stockings, but you
do
know you’ll never need beautiful clothes for a night out again.”

“Yes.”

Rania smiled. “You’re a cool one. You’re not even upset.”

“There’s no reason to be.”

“Didn’t we promise you a new love life? We guaranteed it.”

Amera sat back and folded her arms, amused. “Marketing is another form of storytelling and we know that most stories are usually false.”

“Then why did you believe him?”

She stiffened. “Who?”

“Curtis. Why did you believe the story he told you?”

“He didn’t tell me a story.”

“Then why aren’t you with him?”

Amera sat up and let her hands fall to her sides. “Because he said that asking me to marry him was a mistake. He’d made a hasty decision.”

“And you believed him.”
“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because that was the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Rania shook her head. “That’s not like you, Amera. You like to deal with facts and figures. You listened with your heart that day, but didn’t listen to his words. Because the truth is, Curtis is not a man who makes hasty decisions. But you
chose
to believe that anyway. Why?” She stood and spoke before Amera could. “I’ll tell you why, because the truth sounded like a story to you. Something too good to be true. How could he really love you? How could he really want to have a family with you? So you chose the lie instead.”

“He told me--”

“How many times has he said things he doesn’t mean, because he has to? Why didn’t you wait for a nosebleed.” Rania’s grin grew at Amera’s shock. “Yes, I have spies. We know a lot about you two.”

“We?”

“The Society.”

Amera stood ready to show her the door. “Well, you don’t have to look after me anymore.”

“Our work isn’t done yet.”

“I don’t care.”

Rania’s grin disappeared. “It’s dangerous not to care.”

“It’s smarter that way. I don’t care if Curtis did or didn’t love me, whether Peale House succeeds or fails, whether Maya walks or doesn’t. They have nothing to do with me. I’m living my own life and everyone is living theirs.”

“Then I guess we made a mistake with you. Just like you never got adopted, you shouldn’t have been invited into our exclusive club.”

Amera gasped as if she’d been slapped, Rania’s words ripping open a tender wound. Tears choked her throat. “I deserved to get adopted. It’s that no one good enough came by.”