Toxic (25 page)

“Yes, he was guiding me. I loved it.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yes, we were done and had to get back in.” She sounded indignant.

“But he just zipped up his fly and got out—you didn’t even kiss.”

“That’s what makes it so hot,” Avery insisted.

“Yes, I guess.” Beatrice didn’t sound convinced.

“I’ll share another secret with you.”

“What? Tell me,” Beatrice squealed.

“I just bought—”

There was a light tapping on the main door. “Phoebe, are you in there?” It was Lindsay.

Oh God. I was so busted.

I heard the click of the lock. “No, it’s just us girls,” said Avery. “But feel free to use the facilities. We have the scavenger hunt to announce.”

“Toodles,” Beatrice said.

I heard the door close and fell back. Had Lily been right about them?

“Phoebe. Are you in here?”

I peeked under the stall to make sure they were gone before I opened my door and stumbled out. My shock must have registered on my face.

“You look terrible. What happened?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Why were you locked in here with Avery and that other girl?”

I ran back into the plush stall and kneeled near the toilet, where I promptly dropped my head, throwing up everything I had eaten and drunk and then dry heaving just for good measure.

“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked, handing me one of the rolled-up washcloths from next to the sink.

I sat back down on the chaise. My knees were wobbling. “I was in here when they came in. I didn’t announce myself and because of my stupidity, I had to listen to something I wish I could unhear.”

She wet a cloth and handed it to me. “What? What did they say?”

I shook my head, unable to even think about it.

“Oh Phoebe. She’s evil. Pure evil. You can’t believe anything she says.”

“It wasn’t what she said,” I replied, snapping out of my daze.

“What was it? Tell me.”

I wanted to tell her but wasn’t sure even in my own head what I thought about everything. I looked at her. “I’m sorry. I can’t right now. I have to go.”

She walked toward the door. “Okay. Stay here and I’ll get Jeremy for you.”

I stood up and rinsed my mouth. “No, I need some time alone.”

Her eyes filled bright with concern. “Are you sure?”

I stared at her. I had a sinking sensation that I was in trouble and I couldn’t shake it. “I can’t talk about it. I just have to go.”

Hanna Truman.

Fifty thousand dollars.

Stanford. Stanford, the same college Jeremy had lost his scholarship to but then suddenly was able to get it back.

Was it extortion?

But for what?

And by whom?

As my hand gripped the door, an image of the name Truman presented itself on the unopened letter in Jeremy’s kitchen. Not Hanna though, the initial on the envelope was J, not H. Were they related?

“What should I tell Jeremy?”

I opened the main door. “Tell him I have some things to work out and that I’ll call him in the morning.”

She scrunched her face.

I didn’t know how he would react but I knew I had to figure things out before I could talk to Jeremy.

Too much had come to light.

I hurried through the drunken crowd and when the sign at coat check read
B
E
BACK
IN
FIVE
MI
NUTES
, I went in and grabbed my own coat.

It was chilly outside as I wrapped the leather around me and walked up Broadway with no destination in mind. Just as I crossed West Thirty-eighth Street, my cell started ringing in my purse. I opened the flap and pulled it out to turn it off without even looking at who it was, and that’s when I saw my father’s apartment keys that I’d tucked inside last night before I left work.

With a destination in mind, I walked faster, ignoring my feet that were beginning to ache from my four-inch Jimmy Choos.

The closer I got to Times Square, the more crowded the sidewalks became. People were pushing and shoving but I was in a daze. Moving through them with purpose, I got to Seventh Avenue and was crossing the street before I realized I couldn’t feel my feet. Not only were they aching, but they were also cold. And that wasn’t all that was cold. I’d gone without undergarments or hose and the cool wind was flapping up my dress.

The sculpted waves on the far wall alerted me I’d hit the lobby. I kept my head down and hurried toward the elevators, not wanting to be recognized. Luckily, it was late enough that a crowd had emerged in the lounge area. I hit the
UP
button and as soon as I stepped in the elevator, I hit the
CLOSE
DOOR
button and held it while I pushed the key card into the slot that would allow me to ride to the penthouse without stopping.

When the doors opened, I was surprised at what I saw. I had been envisioning black leather and steel—a modern fuckpad. But what was before me was warm and inviting. There was a step down into a large seating area where two large brown leather sofas were positioned in the middle of the room. There was a fireplace, and a desk near it. When I turned my head, I caught sight of a gourmet kitchen. I walked down the first hallway, which led me to a huge two-story library. A large flat screen on one wall and floor-to-ceiling bookcases on the other. A large cushioned chair faced the TV. This must have been where my father spent a lot of his time. I wondered just how much.

When I was growing up, he was rarely home before I went to bed and always gone before I got up—now I wondered if he’d ever come home.

I went back out to the main room and down the hallway beside the kitchen. There were three completely empty bedrooms and a hall bathroom. The bathroom was stocked with hotel toiletries and towels.

All that was left to explore was the large staircase. I climbed it slowly. Visions of a version of the Red Room of Pain horrified me. When I reached the top, the first room was a modestly furnished gym. The room at the end of the hall was the master bedroom. Just like the living space, it was warm and inviting. No sign of women or anything but a comfortable place to sleep.

This must have been his escape.

I wasn’t naive though. I knew he’d had many other women in his life. I’d learned that for the first time the night my mother was arrested and we couldn’t find my father. But then again, they’d both stepped outside their marriage.

My mother had yet to visit my father in prison, but I knew she wouldn’t divorce him. Through everything, they had maintained a bond. It wasn’t deep, can’t keep their hands off each other love, but it was their own kind of love—and it worked for them.

I went into the bathroom and found a hotel robe. Then I stripped out of my dress and wrapped the robe around me before heading back downstairs and into the kitchen. I opened up the cupboards until I found the tea packets I knew would be there when I saw the teakettle that sat on the stovetop. I filled it up with water and turned it on. My father was a tea drinker. Never drank coffee. Hated it. Tea and bourbon—his drinks of choice.

I had a sudden longing to talk to my father that I hadn’t felt since his arrest. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him but he would be gone for another year and I had to stand strong.

With a deep breath, I walked over to the fireplace and hit the switch to turn it on. I stood there, warming myself, until the teapot whistled.

Once I fixed my tea with two sugars, I went over to the computer on the desk and turned it on. Going to Google, I typed in Hanna Truman Miami. What came up was nothing that would give me any clues. I got a Facebook page, but that Hanna Truman was twenty. I got a link to a YouTube video for a college experiment at Miami University. And a 1940 Census link to a woman who was eighty the year the census was recorded.

I searched again, that time without Miami, and got a slew of articles on a British sailor who had won a silver medal in the 2012 Olympics. I highly doubted she was the Hanna Truman for whom my father had bought a condo in Miami.

Trying something different, I switched to J Truman. J Truman was a manufacturer of brown bags and there were many articles on the company’s meticulous attention to detail over the years. J Truman was also a jazz musician in the age of prohibition. There were about a dozen other J Trumans—none of whom were still alive.

With a sigh, I sipped my tea and went to sit on the couch. It was almost eleven and I knew everyone had to be worried about me.

I took out my phone and turned it on. Jeremy had called over twenty times. Jamie had called almost equally as many times.

I sent them both the same text.

Me: I’m fine. I’m sorry I took off. I just need some time alone. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.

I turned my phone off immediately after sending the messages and went back over to the desk. My hand hovered over the phone. Then without any more thought, I picked it up and dialed nine plus the number.

“Hello.” Dawson sounded like he might have been asleep.

“Oh God, did I wake you?”

“Phoebe?”

“Yes, it’s me. I can call you back tomorrow though.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just reading. What’s wrong?”

“I need your help finding out some information about two individuals named Hanna Truman and J Truman.”

Dawson had all kinds of connections to people I didn’t. And I knew if anyone could help me, he could.

“Yeah, sure, of course. What else do you have?”

“Not much. Just that a Hanna Truman owns a condo in Miami that TSC has paid the mortgage on for years.”

“I’ll get someone on it. Where are you?”

“I’m at my father’s apartment at the Saint in Times Square.”

He stayed silent.

I knew he was wondering just as I had—why did my father have an apartment and was it his fuckpad?

“Where in the hotel?”

“It’s the penthouse level.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No, Dawson, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s either me or I’m calling your mother. I don’t want you alone.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

“Do you need anything?”

I paused, questioning the decision to let him come over but I decided we’d been friends before lovers and I needed a friend right now. “Do you think you could borrow something comfortable from your sister for me to wear?”

He laughed. “That, I can do.”

“Okay, I’ll call down to the front desk and tell them to give you a key.”

“See you shortly,” he said.

I knew I was playing with fire, but he was my only hope for answers. And I couldn’t help but feel that I might have already been burned.

Red Lips

I kept replaying what I heard in the bathroom over and over in my mind, adding my own images to the sound to the point where I was starting to feel a little perverted.

That’s what I did though.

Play.

Rewind.

Pause.

Forward.

Pause.

Play.

In my mind the camera was zooming in on Avery’s glossy red lips as she said, “I want to suck you off.”

I wanted to purge the entire audio from my mind—no one should be subjected to a sex tape of his or her lover when they aren’t the costar. But I kept hitting rewind in my mind, trying to catch a glimpse of Jeremy’s face. I couldn’t picture him at all, only her. And the image was entirely too vivid.

“Hey, are you okay?” It was Dawson standing at the edge of the foyer, staring down at me.

I stood up from the couch and set my cold tea down. “Yes, you know me, I’m strong.”

I was kidding of course.

“You are.”

I laughed at that.

He set down the bags he had in his hands and strode toward me. “You are strong. With everything you’ve been through with your dad, most women would have crumbled, but not you.”

I gave him a slight smile. “You always see the good.”

“In you I do.”

I averted my face from his stare.

“I brought food. Sushi. I figured you probably hadn’t eaten.”

I eyed the bag and knew it was from Ayama. “Fried apple sticks?”

“Do you think I could order from the best sushi takeout around and not get your favorite?”

I went into the kitchen and found some plates and brought them out.

Dawson was already opening the bag.

I kneeled and helped him set everything out on the coffee table that sat between the two large sofas. My mouth watered when I saw the buffalo tuna sashimi and I realized just how hungry I was.

Dawson was watching me intently.

When I removed the large tin container that I knew was his, I lifted it up and down. “Wasabi beef?”

“Close.” He grinned. “Red curry duck.”

I shoved his arm. “That wasn’t close at all.”

He shrugged.

I liked to eat an array of food, so I always ordered appetizers or individual rolls. Dawson, on the other hand, always ordered a meal. Jeremy and I had never eaten sushi together, not even that summer we spent together. I knew what he looked like when he came but I didn’t know if he liked sushi. I didn’t know his favorite food. I didn’t know very much about him, I realized.

The sexual connection was just too intense. I should have known it was too good to be true.

“Phoebe?”

I looked up, realizing I was still lifting the duck up and down. “Sorry. I’m not the best company right now.”

“Does this have something to do with Jeremy?” He took the container from my hands.

“I’m not sure.”

“He’s bad news, you know. I don’t think you should trust him.”

“Can we please stop talking about him?” Even as the words left my mouth I wondered if he wasn’t right.

“Sure. What’s going on with the nightclubs?”

I rubbed my wooden chopsticks together. “I don’t know yet. The perspectives went out last night. I hope to hear back by Friday, Monday at the latest.”

The smell of curry filled the room. “Really? I didn’t receive mine.”

I bit into an apple. “I didn’t send yours. You’ve done too much for me already and besides, we both know you’ll only feel obligated.”

He furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything.”

“The donation for the ballet. It was way too generous.”

The look on his face was blank. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You made a donation in my name to the New York City Ballet.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t.”

“But I texted you, and said thank you.”

Dawson pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled down the screen. Then he turned it to show it to me.

Me: I didn’t tell you yesterday, but thank you so much.

Dawson: It was nothing. I’d do anything for you. Let me know when you have time for dinner this week.

Me: I will, promise

I stared at it. I guess I wasn’t clear.

Dawson looked embarrassed. “I thought you meant something else.”

Now I was the embarrassed one.

“Well, anyway, I wouldn’t feel obligated, so I’d still like a copy of your proposal. I’m really interested. . . .”

I nodded as he talked, realizing it must have been Jeremy who had donated the money. Why would he do that if his intentions weren’t real?

God, I was just so confused.

With a mouth full of food, I tried to figure Jeremy out.

I set my chopsticks down as tears sprang into my eyes. Those actions weren’t from someone who had somehow managed to blackmail my father into a large Stanford donation so he could attend school there.

“Hey, don’t cry. We’ll figure out who J and Hanna Truman are. I’m here for you, just like I always have been.”

I hadn’t even realized Dawson had moved closer.

“You need to stay away from Jeremy. He’s not good for you. He’s like an addiction that you can’t seem to break.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “He’s not.”

“Come on, Phoebe. He is. Have you forgotten the state you were in when we met?”

I shook my head. Like I ever could. It was the same day I let Jeremy go.

•   •   •

Snow fell all around me.

I watched it fall, mesmerized.

My friends and I had come here many times; it was our gathering place as kids. But tonight, the roofless old fort on the northwestern edge of Central Park looked magical. I took my shoes off and climbed the frozen concrete stairs. The flimsy railing lent such a sexy air of danger to the place, it caused my pulse to race. My toes were cold, but I’d drunk enough that my body was numb to any feelings. When I reached the top, I looked down at the steep drop and saw nothing but darkness.

It looked like I felt.

Empty.

Alone.

Lost.

Barefoot, I walked to the edge and stood with my arms out to my sides, letting the wind and snow cascade around me. My dress ruffled in the breeze and suddenly I felt free. Free to face the world from where I stood. Free to move forward. Free to leave the past behind. Free to let him go.

If only it was that easy.

“Hey, what are you doing up there?” I looked down to see a handsome man’s concerned face gazing up at me. It was the first time since him that I had noticed any guy’s looks.

I stared at the handsome stranger for the longest time before I stepped back, uncertain as to what I was doing up there. The alcohol I drank at the party had gotten to me and I wasn’t thinking clearly. For that one brief moment before he spoke, I really thought I had wings and could fly free like a butterfly.

I was always seeking freedom. But freedom from what? I’d lost sight of what I was trying to escape.

The guy held his hand out. “I’m Dawson. Let me help you down.”

•   •   •

He didn’t have to remind me. I’d fought worries every day since Jeremy came back into my life of those same demons returning. But I was younger then, and much more naive. I wasn’t the same person anymore. Dawson knew that. He’d even admitted it. I’d been through a lot and come out stronger. I didn’t know who I was back then. I was a lost girl searching for a different life instead of taking charge of my own.

“Let me help you. Let me make sure of it,” he whispered.

Worry plagued me. Was I headed down that same road?

Dawson’s mouth was at my ear and his arms were around me before I realized it. “Don’t cry.” In the blink of an eye, cool, tender lips touched mine as he kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back, but I didn’t move away either.

“Lean on me. Let me help you,” he whispered.

I did find a familiar comfort as he held me, and for a moment I let him in. But when he tried to lay me down on the carpet, something clicked. This was wrong. I didn’t want to be with him. I turned my head. “Dawson, no!”

His lips found mine again and moved faster. I bit down on his lower one until I tasted blood but all he did was push himself on top of me and reach inside my robe.

I shoved him harder and when he didn’t move, I did the only thing I could think of and scratched my nails down his face. “Dawson, stop it,” I yelled.

Finally, he pulled himself back and jumped to his feet. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Phoebe. I don’t know what got into me. I’m so sorry.”

I knew he would never hurt me but still, I was shaken. My body was trembling.

Blood was dripping from his lip and one of his cheeks. I ran to the kitchen and wet a paper towel. When I returned, he was sitting on the couch and rubbing his palms on his slacks.

“Dawson,” I said softly as I handed him the paper towel.

His eyes were filled with regret when he looked up at me. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what I was doing. I just miss you so much.”

I pulled the tie tighter on my robe. “You should go.”

“No, I’m not leaving you alone. You know that wasn’t me. I won’t touch you again. I promise. But let me stay with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

I knew he was worried I’d fall into my old ways—drinking, partying, reckless behavior. The same way I had been when he first met me six months after Jeremy abandoned me.

I was worried too.

“Okay,” I said and grabbed the other bag he had brought. “I’ll just change and be back down.”

I didn’t wait for a response as I ran up the stairs with my heart pounding.

I knew he was someone I could trust and I didn’t want things to be weird between us. That’s why I let him stay, even though I knew he shouldn’t.

Once I’d changed and calmed myself down, I went back down. Dawson was sitting on the couch, staring out the window. The bleeding had stopped but he had a scratch mark on each cheek and a puffy lip. I didn’t feel bad, but I felt a little to blame. I had to watch my own body language around him. Make sure I wasn’t giving false hope.

Things were over.

They had been over.

I had ended our relationship some time ago. But he was still hoping for a reconciliation I knew would never come, and honestly, I thought so did he. I knew he should probably leave, but I didn’t have the heart to make him. So instead I grabbed the remote. “How about some TV?”

He nodded.

I sat on the sofa across from him and pulled the blanket off the back of it before I picked up my plate of tuna and picked at it. We didn’t say anything else as we watched
Saturday Night Live
.

I was utterly exhausted.