Determined: To Win (Determined Trilogy Book 3) (9 page)

I looked at the necklace, and wondered why he still held on to it. The obvious possibility rose to the top of my thoughts.
Was it that he wasn’t over his first love?
I swallowed.
Could you ever be?
If it had been a break-up, or that they had chosen to just go their separate ways, then that I could deal with. But David hadn’t chosen to leave Sara. That decision was out of his control. I wondered if they would still be together if circumstances were different. My stomach churned at the thought. I hadn’t fully acknowledged it until now, but it was true. I could feel it in every fiber of my being. I was desperate to be the one. The only one. For David. Like I knew he was for me. I wanted to feel the security, sure. But more than that, I wanted to know he would never love anyone more. Not even his dead fiancé. It was a dark thought, but it was the truth. But even worse, I didn’t even feel that bad about it.

“Sam?”

I jumped and looked up. It was Hilde.

“Sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just going to do some vacuuming.” She held up a small wand as evidence.

“Oh, hey Hilde, sure thing.” I tried to play it cool. I put the necklace back in the drawer and grabbed a pen before standing up and walking toward the door. “Go ahead. I was just, uh, looking for a pen.” I held up the thin Bic as evidence and smiled. Inside, I felt like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

“You don’t have to leave, Miss. After all, it’s your house now, too,” Hilde said, smiling, as I headed out of the room.

I looked back at her. “Thanks Hilde.” I said, but continued on my way. I sauntered back to the bedroom and locked the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief that Hilde hadn’t noticed my snooping.

I sat down on the bed and pulled up my laptop, figuring I would try to distract myself by checking the online job sites again and sending out a few more resumes this morning. I was finishing up my first application of the day when my phone started buzzing with an incoming call.

“Hey, Curtis.”

“Sam, hey, are you with Gina?”

Funny way to start a conversation. “No, why? What’s up?”

“My friend Clara from Ballard Gallery called me this morning asking about you. Did you put in an application with her?”

Oh, shit. Word travelled fast in the gallery world, it seemed.

“Um, yeah. I did. I didn’t know you knew her.” I cringed, and was grateful he couldn’t see me turn red over the phone.

“Sam, why are you sending out applications? Are you not happy with Gina?”

I paused, trying to figure out how to articulate what I’d been feeling. “It’s not that I’m not happy with Gina, it’s just that … I mean, you were such a great boss. I think I’m spoiled. I like the work with Gina. And David just said that if I don’t love it, I should keep looking.”

“Well,” Curtis said slowly, “That is good advice. You should never stay somewhere you aren’t happy, Sam. You are too bright.”

I smiled at the compliment. “Thanks, Curtis.”

“Which makes what I’m about to say that much harder to tell you,” he said, sounding suddenly cryptic.

I sat up at attention and tried to keep my voice cool. “What do you mean, Curtis?”

“Sammie, I hate to bring it up, but you know Evan Carmichael?”

I winced. Ugh. Why was he bringing up that scumbag? Evan owned Carmichael Gallery in the city, and he had invited me to attend Art Basel in Miami with him back in December. To make the story short, the trip of a lifetime ended up with him drunk, trying to assault me in my hotel room. To say I didn’t think much of him was an understatement. We hadn’t talked since I had Thomas throw him out of the suite.

“What about him?” I said dryly, scowling at the memory.

“Well, Sam, I don’t know how to say this, but Clara said that Evan’s been spreading some pretty bad rumors about you.”

14

I was stunned. Evan had the nerve to say bad things about
me
?
He
was the disgusting dirtball who used his position to curry favor with young up-and-comers hoping to make a name for themselves. My whole body stiffened at the thought of him. “What do you mean, Curtis?” I managed to sputter.

“Clara said that she was at a party last week, and he was ranting about how you tried to seduce him in Miami, and how you were sleeping with a bunch of people while you were there.”

“Curtis,” I tried to speak, but I was overwhelmed with emotion. I hadn’t told Curtis what had happened. I couldn’t; I was too embarrassed at the time. But it sure seemed that Evan had no qualms about sharing stories. Or rather, outright lies. How dare he. That fucking prick! He was the one who attacked me. My thoughts immediately turned to my career. My reputation. Oh my God, my reputation. How was I going to recover from this? How am I supposed to get an interview if the entire west coast of the gallery world thinks I’m trying to sleep my way to the top? My heart was racing.

“Don’t worry Sam, I set Clara straight. I know you better than that. But I wanted you to know. Apparently the rumor mill is working overtime.”

I swallowed, my head still spinning. “Thank you, Curtis. You know it’s not true, right?”

“Of course, Sam. There was no question. Honestly, I’d heard rumors about him before, but I didn’t know any of the people involved. But now I know better. I am going to reach out to all my contacts and tell them that Evan is a lying sack of shit.”

His directness granted me a small laugh. “I love you, Curtis. Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “Fuck. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t just let him keep spreading these lies about me.”

“Honestly, Sam, it’s probably best you just lay low and let it blow over.”

I was unconvinced and let out a grunt to that effect. I was being less than professional, but I didn’t care. I was pissed off and hurt. Evan Carmichael was a jerk.

“Sammie, I have to ask, why didn’t you come and ask me for your job back?”

“You know I couldn’t do that, Curtis. Besides you already hired Kate. Anyway, I am going to give this job my best shot. The resumes were just to keep my options open.”

“Ah-ha, so I should tell Clara to forget the excellent reference I gave you?” I could practically hear his mouth curl up into a smile over the phone.

“Curtis, you’re the best.”

“Don’t you forget it, honey. You hang in there. See you tomorrow, right? Last day and then drinks at Forbidden Island. I’ve got a Mai Tai with your name on it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. See you tomorrow.”

After a morning of computer work, heading back over to the East Bay was a welcome relief. Elliot and I zipped along the bridge, passing over the dark blue water on my way to what was generally my favorite part of the week.

I had worked at the children’s center for about three years. I started when I was still convinced I was going to be a Sociology major, and despite abandoning that pursuit, I couldn’t leave the center. It was just too rewarding to come in and feel like I was really making a difference with the kids. The children’s center focused on providing after school activities in an at-risk, underserved neighborhood. Most of the kids didn’t have access to art classes or athletic programs at school, so the children’s center filled that need while keeping them off the streets.

I pushed through the front door of the center and was surprised to find Wing and Linda in the front hall. The floor was covered with a long, wide piece of paper with children’s drawings all over it.

“Hey guys!”

Wing and Linda looked up and their faces exploded into huge smiles.

“Sam!” Linda exclaimed, dropping her end of the long paper before making her way to meet me with a hug. “Sammie, it is so good to see you. How are you feeling? We were so worried.” She pulled back, examining me with her eyes.

“I’m fine, Linda. Really. Just a few bumps and bruises, but those are all healed now.” I flashed a big smile, trying to convince her I was fine. “How is everything here?”

“Much better than last time you were here.” The last time she was referring to was a few weeks ago, when the center had been broken in to and graffitti’d. I didn’t know it at the time, but the invasion was related to the trouble we’d been having with Brian. David had felt responsible and made an anonymous donation to the center, earmarking the money for repairs.

“I am so sorry I couldn’t come and help repaint. How did everything go?”

“Oh, don’t even worry about that Sammie. That donation was so generous we were able to hire someone to do everything. I think they’ve spoiled Wing though.” Linda looked over at her husband.

“Darn right. I’m never picking up a paintbrush again. Hiring it out is the way to go.” Wing said as Linda shook her head and smiled.

“What do we have going on here?” I said, gesturing to the drawings on the floor.

“Oh, it’s a mural the kids made. We asked them all to draw their favorite part about the center to celebrate reopening. We were just hanging it up. Do you mind holding this end as I staple it to the wall?

I nodded and took the end of the long paper, holding it up against the wall while Linda operated the stapler.

“See anything familiar on there, Sam?” Wing asked once it was securely fastened in place.

I scanned the wall, looking at the drawings. They were really diverse. Pictures of kids playing basketball, drawing, playing—all with smiling, happy faces.

“See that?” Linda said. She was pointing to a drawing of a woman with brown hair and a pink dress in the lower left hand corner.

“Is that me?” I chuckled.

“Yep, and you have two more. One here,” she pointed with her finger. “And one here.” The second drawing could have been mistaken for a rabbit, but still I was touched.

I couldn’t believe it was my last day at the center. I was going to miss this place. The afternoon passed quickly, too quickly, and before I knew it, it was almost time for the parents to come. I was in the supply room putting away some jump ropes, the plaything-du-jour with the girls in the yard, when Wing ducked his head in.

“Hey Sam, could you put out some extra basketballs? The ones in the gym are getting flat.”

“Oh, sure Wing. No problem.” I finished putting away the ropes and grabbed two fresh basketballs and headed down the hall. I heard the kind of low rumble that could only be caused by a massive amount of children as I rounded the corner and found myself growing nostalgic. I was going to miss that sound.

“Surprise!” The low rumble was replaced by the exuberant scream of a crowd. I stood at the door to the gym, frozen, as every kid’s eyes trained on me. I knew what this was, but I hadn’t expected it.

Linda came up to me. “Sammie, since it’s your last day, we just wanted to do a little something to honor you and all the time you’ve devoted to the center. You’ve been an essential part of what we do here, and we are going to miss you dearly.” She turned to the kids. Their eyes immediately focused on hers, and their faces became serious. Wing, whom I now noticed was seated at a piano on the far side of the room began to play, and the whole room began to sing a sweet, honest version of ‘Hello Goodbye’ by the Beatles.

At the end they cheered, and I was fighting the tears with a passion. I was moved beyond words. Linda motioned to Ariana, an outgoing seven year old, and one of my favorite kids at the center, to come up to the front.

Ariana stood, and with a very serious look on her face, approached us. Then, in a careful, clearly rehearsed speech she said:

“Miss Sammie, I would like to present you with this certificate of appreciation from all of us.” I knelt beside her, and she handed me a thick piece of paper with ‘Certificate of Appreciation’ printed on it. All the kids at the center had written their names on it. I was touched. I loved it.

I gave her a hug. I managed to squeak out some sort of thank you speech, but it was a blur. I couldn’t believe my time at the center was coming to an end. Between the drama with Evan and this, today was an emotional rollercoaster. I felt another jag of tears coming on and looked over at Linda. She took the cue and saved me.

“Okay guys, who wants cake and ice cream?”

A resounding plea echoed through the whole building. We spent my remaining half hour at the center hopelessly charging all the kids up with sugar before delivering them to the parents. It was perfect.

15

Later that night, at home, I couldn’t sleep. David was gone again, and I tossed and turned for about an hour before giving up and flicking on my bedside lamp. I was there, sitting up in bed, reading a magazine when David got home.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing up?” he said as he entered the bedroom and discovered me sitting there. “Waiting for me?” he grinned. I put down my magazine, the latest celebrity gossip no match for the visual in front of me. David shrugged off his suit jacket and undid his tie before climbing onto the bed next to me. I leaned into him, craving the feeling of his body against mine.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not? What’s going on?” he leaned over and kissed me on my head.

“It was just a crazy day.”

“It was your last day at the children’s center, right?” he said, pulling off his shoes and laying them on the floor next to the bed.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the crazy part. You remember Evan Carmichael?”

David’s eyes met mine. His dark circles were even more pronounced than when he’d left that morning, and his five o’clock shadow was in full force.

“Yes,” he said tightly, his jaw tensing at the name. It was clear I wasn’t the only one with a lingering hatred for the name. “What about him?”

“Guess who has been spreading rumors about me all over the city?” I said, deadpan. It was late, and I was too tired to be furious anymore.

“Rumors?” David’s face turned to stone. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Apparently he is running around, telling all the gallery owners that I tried to sleep with him and every other gallerist at Art Basel.” I rubbed my forehead, pained by the thought.

David’s expression didn’t waver, and it was a few moments until he spoke.

“Well, that’s fucking slander, Samantha. I’ll call my lawyers in the morning. He can’t do that.” It was interesting to see David so intent in words, yet restrained physically. He got back up and continued to disrobe, stripping down to just his boxer briefs, leaving his clothes on a side chair to be dealt with later. “How did you even find out?”