Zenith Falling (34 page)

Joelle’s heart dropped in her chest at hearing Nick’s statement. But they were in the ballroom, surrounded by crowds of celebrants. She noticed, on her way back into the ballroom, a banner over the entrance announcing the ball was to celebrate the recipient of the prestigious
Honors in Business, The Donovan Award,
presented to Nick Lassiter, President of
Next Generation Consulting
.

T
repidation filled her mind. People always noticed Nick when he entered any room. He walked with the assurance of the man he was, who knew where he was going, which seemed to radiate from him, and draw people to him. If a boat were sinking, he’d undoubtedly be the person the frightened passengers would crowd around, listen to, and consult for decision-making and leadership. Nick naturally possessed that kind of persona and personality.

Why, then, was he with a short, shy, dud like her? She shuffled when she walked, and could not command
even a room full of toddlers. She shied away, stuttered and hid herself. She could never lead, because she lacked both charisma and style. Not like Nick. He was gorgeous, rich, captivating really, in his magnetism, and the most considerate, giving, kind, understanding man she’d ever met.

He could walk up to any crowd, no matter how b
ig, and easily insert himself; smiling, chatting, shaking hands, making introductions, and still remember everyone’s name whom he talked to. He had a way of engaging the most obscure people, someone like Joelle for example, and making them feel as if they were the center of his world when he addressed them.

For the most part, she followed Nick
from group to group, remaining practically silent. She smiled here and there in her clumsy effort to fit in. All the while, her mind was reeling, and having a hard time following even the briefest of conversations. All she could concentrate on were the looks aimed their way. Lots of very odd, penetrating looks.

Familiar faces with whom they
worked now stared, their eyebrows raised, as they tried to determine the reason why Joelle Williams was standing with Nick Lassiter’s hand on her arm. Or why she followed every step he took. Or why he was beside her, of all the other women.

The longer the night progressed, the more Joelle got the feeling that even strangers were now wondering who she was. Who was that unnamed girl following Nick? Who was the man of the hour escorting? Someone unknown, someone who couldn’t carry herself at this party, couldn’t pull off th
e dress, the makeup and certainly not the hair. And the longer the night went on, the more convinced she became that she wasn’t imagining it. There was a consistency of subtle, quiet chatter following their wake.

She
was introduced to people that made her eyes widen in surprise. The mayor, a senator, two Mariner team members, heads of several local bigwig businesses, and the local elite: rich people whose names she’d often heard on the evening news. And all these people knew Nick. They talked to him with such ease and respect, it made it obvious he was a leader amongst them. Nick’s life was supported by these people, yet it meant nothing to him. Nick had to strain to understand Joelle’s discomfort. She wasn’t political, or even community savvy. She was a lowly hairdresser who followed a rock band for four years, that only performed at little clubs, which were totally unknown to the rich and elite she saw in this room.

Soon, h
er high heels were killing her toes. She could hardly stand still in them, they were so tall to her. She swayed like a skyscraper in the wind, but noticed the other women wore their high heels with the poise and grace of a tennis shoe. How the hell did one learn to balance like that? How did they manage to ignore the pain?

Finally, they
sat down at the table, front and center, below the podium. Then a man in a tuxedo got up and gave a short speech and brief  introduction for the evening. The room erupted with applause for the winner of the Donovan Award. Nick stood up, comfortable at once with all  the acclaim and attention. He walked towards the podium, with his easy stride, no quicker, or more hurried than usual. Nothing ruffled him. He got up, and Joelle clenched her hands as the nerve endings in her body went on overdrive. Oh God, he was standing in front of the entire room.

Without the sl
ightest hint of perspiration, Nick was calm and cool as he smiled, and waved a hand as if to say that was enough applause. He started talking with no prepared speech. Not Nick. Of course, he wouldn’t need that kind of human aid. He rattled off an elegantly short, but perfect speech on the responsibilities of the business community in today’s economy. He urged all influential business people to strive to be examples, and of a higher caliber than the government demanded. He pointed out that profits coming from human greed wouldn’t last, and only human care and compassion would create long lasting, world-improving, profits and competition.

He
exited the podium while the audience clapped loudly, and made his way through the throngs of well-wishers, and women, seeking to kiss his cheeks. Finally, he returned to Joelle. She stood up and took his hand, feeling awed by the sheer enormity of what it meant to be Nick Lassiter, and relishing the concept that he was coming back to
her.
“You were perfect.”

“Great. Now you can hate me even more,” he whispered into her ear. “I thought you hated it when I’m, what is it you call me? Nick-like?”

She laughed softly, aware of all the unapologetic stares falling on them. She sat down next to him. “No, I’m just jealous because I can’t even address my boss without stammering. You work a room like Nick Lassiter does everything else.”

He leaned over and
kissed her forehead. “I don’t want to impress them. I just want you to like me in spite of all this.”

“I do.
And you impress me, although you also intimidate the hell out of me.”

He frowned and squeezed her hand. “No. Don’t. That’s what I don’t want you to do. You know me, Joelle. This… this is all just my way to make money. And how I stay busy. Don’t ever be intimidated by
me.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by someone standing right between them. Joelle suddenly found herself staring at some man’s suit-clad ass.

“Mr. Lassiter, can we get a few shots of you with the mayor and senator for the news story? And our reporter would like a few words.”

Nick glanced
around the ass at her, showing his regret with his eyes. “Will you be okay?”

“Go. Don’t worry about me.”

She felt his eyes on her, and sensed, for some reason, he was extra worried about her tonight. She was on her own for over an hour while Nick got mauled by myriad cameras, photos, hand-shaking, and idle chit chats. He showed off his newest plaque, along with his smile and a good laugh. He was tersely interviewed and she even saw two women, one tall and gorgeous, the other heavier, but very exotic, slip small pieces of paper into Nick’s jacket pocket. Their phone numbers? Come-fuck-me notes? Had to be. Most women fell for Nick. Why wouldn’t they? He was the definition of what every woman wanted. And to top it off, he never used it to mistreat or abuse women; but showed all of them the same respect and care, as if each were unique and beautiful to him.

Joelle grew more and
more conspicuous as a misfit. Feeling awkward, all she wanted to do was go home. She avoided the few management personnel people whom she did know. She was afraid to hear any speculation, or comments about Nick and her. The catty innuendoes that were probably being bandied about by people’s tongues regarding her recent promotion would have undoubtedly pushed her over the edge.

“So how did you land him?”

“Excuse me?” Joelle asked, turning towards the voice of Brittany Snow. She was about Nick’s age, with no ring on her finger. She always treated Nick with the utmost respect. Joelle was shocked to see the anger in her eyes, and hear the vindictive edge of the woman’s tone.

“You fucked your way up the ladder. I get that. What I don’t g
et is how it could be you? You’re a little runt. Nothing Nick Lassiter should even look twice at.”

“I’m not, I mean, Nick and I
–

“Sure, sweetie. He regularly hires people with no degrees, no experience. I checked your record. Did you know you are the only current employee without a college degree? And the rest of the firm all possess degrees from the most prestigious universities. Only the best. Engineers, computer techs, business managers and market analysts, and then there’s you. A fucking hairdresser from nowhere. I don’t get it. I can’t figure it out. Why would Nick bother with
you?
I get it now though.”

Why would Nick bother with you?
The words echoed through her brain. The same question she’d been asking herself. Now they were real. Spoken. She knew she should not listen to Brittany Snow, as the woman lived to intimidate her. She wanted to exploit Joelle’s weaknesses.

Nick
was trapped in a throng of well-dressed men and women. It suddenly became starkly obvious that she didn’t belong here. Or anywhere near these people: Nick, his life, his company, and his heart were forbidden territory.

Brittany Snow was just the first to point that out. The tip of the iceb
erg in the barrage of nasty comments she’d soon face.  Nick would try to shut them down, but they would simmer and dance around her. All the employees would soon hate her. And at the one place she managed to build a small reputation of competency and pride, all her effort would soon be shattered by one fact: she screwed Nick. That’s all that mattered and all anyone would see. And worst of all, everyone knew she was still married to someone else.

Joelle turned and fled from Brittany Snow. She hurried in
to the foyer of the grand hotel. Then she ran outside and started down the sidewalk, hobbling clumsily on her high heels. She was suddenly flagged down by a man in black.

“Hey, miss, the limo’s over here. You need a lift somewhere?”

The limo driver recognized her as Nick’s date. Of course, he did; it was his job. She looked right, then left, before nodding. “Yes, I do need a ride somewhere. Anywhere, but here.”

Nick kept Joelle in his sights and noticed she was growing agitated, and more nervous as the evening wore on. She shredded a tissue to pieces, then folded and twisted her linen napkin. She smiled and tried to talk whenever someone approached her. He tried to excuse himself several times, only to be surrounded again by the crowd. As man of the hour, the attention he received was stifling and thick. After receiving a couple of strange women’s phone numbers in his pocket, he recognized the type. The un-Joelles. Those women would know, right down to the carat and dollar amount, about the necklace he gave to Joelle. They were quite willing to do Nick in the coat closet right then and there, in the meager hope that he’d spend some of his money on them.

Brittany Snow approached Joelle and Nick
let his shoulders fall. He thought he could relax. Brittany was one of his favorite employees. She was always efficient, respectful and courteous; and at least, Joelle knew her. He turned his attention towards the reporter interviewing him for Sunday’s top story in the business section, hoping he might relax for a few moments.

H
e was worried about Joelle tonight; she seemed so tightly drawn. No doubt, she was already wound up by the visit from Rob, and now this evening, bringing with it everything she feared, and the lifestyle that so terrified her. All of this stuff made her feel insignificant, and convinced her she was wrong for him.

And she cut her hair off
. He wasn’t so sure that was a good thing, or a good sign: the blonde hair, and the glamorous clothes, left him feeling very unsure at all.

Finally, with the interview at an end, he nearly elbowed his way through the throng of well-wishers. When he finally made it back to his table, he found Brittany there, but no Joelle. “Where did Joelle go?”

Brittany waved her hand in the air. “She took off. Ladiesh’ room, I guessh.”

Brittany was slurring badly. He headed to the foyer, where the restroom was and waited for a short time. He finally asked a lady near him to check the bathroom for Joelle and she came out, shaking her head and saying the bathroom was empty.

Where was Joelle? His phone vibrated, he answered it not recognizing the number.

“Mr. Lassiter?”

“Yeah?”

“This is Jim Costla, your limo driver, sir. I thought maybe I’d better let you know the young lady with you earlier, your date, left and asked me to take her to Club Ricana. I thought perhaps I’d made a mistake by taking her there.”

Shit! Christ! Fuck!
Joelle took off! Something or someone must have spooked her. Like a drunken Brittany Snow. Not that Joelle wasn’t already spooked on her own. It didn’t take much to send her running.

“Thanks for calling. I’ll be right there.”

Nick left his own awards banquet without a second’s hesitation, or a word to anyone. He grabbed a taxi outside the hotel. It took only ten minutes to get across town to the club the chauffeur mentioned.

He found his limo only a block away. Inside were Joelle’s uncomfortable shoes. He took his jacket off, his tie,
and his vest, and untucked his white shirt, letting the tails hang over his black pants. Then he went to Club Ricana.

After paying the admission fee, he found himself in a world far removed from the reception he just left. Ear splitting, pounding music, nearly shaking the walls, from a DJ; hot, current, rap song thumping and banging; kids jumping, dancing, yelling, laughing, migrating  toward the center of the room under pulsating strobe lights, and flickering shadows. The fringes of the room,
being darker, also seemed moodier, while thick with smoke and all kinds of people. Some looked like babies pounding the floor in their intricate moves, and other couples appeared to be nearly fucking on the dance floor.

He sighed… Well, damn! Could she have made her point any clearer? He was as out of place here as she was at the awards dinner.
And for the first time, he truly understood how out of her comfort zone he’d been pushing her. And what a mistake it was. He obviously pushed her way too far, way too soon.

His head rang, and his eyes stung with
the diverse colors, sounds, and movement overload, but finally, he found Joelle. She was caught in the throng of dancers. She had her once immaculate, classy, sedate dress, pulled up high, so her legs showed. Her sleeves were pushed up, and her hair was pulled back. She was dancing and sweating furiously, moving her hips, with her hands over her head, her eyes closed to the seductive beats. She was a good dancer to the music, and very sexy, managing to keep the beat unlike some of her drunker counterparts.

What
was she thinking? What was she doing here? Why didn’t she just tell him she needed to leave the awards ceremony? Then he noticed who else was here. The real reason Joelle was here.

Rob.

Rob was behind her, dancing close to her, his hip movements following hers, close, and connected, almost. His arms came around Joelle’s waist, and moved up her back, rubbing her bare skin, and sliding into her hair. She tilted her head towards him as they moved in near unity, evidence of their practice and familiarity. They danced together like one person to the music.

Joelle, for the first time since Nick knew her, looked like she belonged with Rob
Williams. Nick saw a part of Joelle he’d never seen. Someone young, hot, wild: a girl who idolized and followed a rock star.

“How come you’re here?”

He turned at the voice nearly shouting into his ear and found himself standing next to a man who was several inches taller than he. Looking up, he didn’t recognize the man, and thought he must have been mistaken and thought Nick was someone else.

The taller man thumped Nick’s shoulder in a friendly greeting.
“Lassiter, man, don’t you recognize me?”

Nick looked again. Holy. Shit. It was Spike. Or at least,
he thought it was Spike. The man beside him was as tall as he remembered Spike, but any resemblance stopped there. Spike’s once crazy, scary hair was gone. He was nearly bald, with just the trace of a sheen of dark hair. His face was clean, and manly. There was no distracting makeup. He was, much to Nick’s surprise, a good looking guy, with deep black eyes, a sharp nose and wide cheek bones. He wore normal clothes. Plain pants and a shirt. Nothing weird. Nothing freaky. Nothing vampirish. Nick was speechless, and drawn away momentarily from Joelle even.

“Spike?”
Nick’s mouth dropped open.

Spike smiled, actually smiled, and answered, “Yeah. I’ve been trying out Spencer lately. Spencer Mattox, that’s my real name.”

“What happened to you?”

“I don’t know. Just thought I’d try out that getting-a-life thing. No one would hire a freak like Spike, but Spencer Mattox? They will. Got me a job.
I’m a delivery man. Kind of lame. But they have health and dental plans. I plan to get my teeth fixed as soon as it kicks in.”

Nick didn’t know what to say. His shock was genuine. “You ah, wanted insurance?”

“Yes. A guy can only be a rebel for so long. I’m getting too old for this shit. Thought maybe I’d try my hand at some normalcy.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Makes sens
e, Spi–-I mean Spencer. You are almost unrecognizable.”

“Thanks. I didn’t think you’d be within ten miles of here after I saw Joelle come in.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Ah. So my initial reaction was right. Joelle wasn’t planning on this either.”

“What is this?”

“My birthday party. Rob invited Joelle. We used to hang out here a lot. Although Rob didn’t think she’d come. So imagine our surprise when she came wandering in, looking all wide-eyed and nervous and
… well, blonde. Why is she blonde, Nick?”

“Got me. I don’t know what the hell is going on with her. Why exactly are you talking to me? Why don’t you try to kick my ass on Rob’s account? I’m pretty sure you could take me.”

Spencer shook his head. “Hell, Lassiter, I like you for some reason. You’ve been good to Joelle, better for her than Rob. Rob’s just now starting to get his head on straight. But still, I don’t think Joelle should come back. She seems better where she’s at. Well, except for tonight. Where were you?”

Nick looked back at Joelle. They switched, moved, and were now in the center of the crowd. Still together. “A really fancy, ballroom for an awards ceremony in my honor; although it didn’t go over so well with her.”

Spencer shrugged and waved towards Rob and Joelle. “Don’t take this too personally. Don’t give up on her. They, over there, don’t know it, but they’re just acting out the last few residual feelings of a dying affair.”

“So I should turn a blind eye to my married girlfriend dancing with her husband?”

“No, you should make sure she divorces her husband, and becomes
your
wife.”

He
glanced at Spencer. The man was as strange as anyone he had ever met, but he seemed to genuinely like Nick. And more importantly, seemed to sincerely care about Joelle.

“In case you ha
ven’t figured it out yet, and what sweet, naive, little Joelle never figured out, is that Rob is completely wrong for her. And she was never really happy with Rob, or with us, much less our lifestyle.”

“She hates my lifestyle more.”

Spencer shrugged. “No, she’s intimidated by your lifestyle; big difference. And I saw her becoming happier, and more confident with you. She became Joelle again. And I liked seeing that. So wait her out.”

“Ah
… thanks, I think.”

“Well, this isn’t my drama, so I’ll leave you three to it,” Spencer said, as he turned and blended into the crowd, for once
, truly dissolving. Nick stared after him, somewhat startled, but also pleasantly surprised. He felt something people rarely succeeded at arousing in him.

The song changed again, and Nick
had no idea who or what was singing it. It was a hot and invigorating, with heavy beats and rap, punctuated by startling vocals. Still bumping and grinding with the crowd, Rob and Joelle were near the edge of the vibrating throng of bodies. Now, her body appeared to be nearly plastered to his, and he was running his hands all over her. Nick felt his heart stopping. His blood began pumping furiously through his body, as jealousy’s black, ugly head arose from inside him.

All at once, he remembered: there was nothing he could do. They were still married. They were Rob and Joelle Williams; Rob was Joelle’s husband. And from day one, and every day he shared with her, Nick knew Joelle was apt to do just this:
go back to Rob
.

But watching her body, as she moved against  the other man
’s, in sensual gyrations, was going way too far, even for that. His fists clenched, and he had to consciously relax his mind. He forced himself to observe them, to take it all in. It was time to admit the truth that kept staring him in the face.

She was never his to keep.

Nick always succeeded at everything he ever wanted or attempted, and now he had lost the only thing that really mattered to him in his entire life: Joelle.

He
started to turn when Rob suddenly looked up and their eyes met. A clash of surprise, hatred, and awkwardness passed between them. Rob was clearly sober, and he smiled a nasty mimic of a friendly hello.  Rob knew exactly what he was doing, holding his little wife, feeling her up because he could.

Nick didn’t glare or turn. He stood there. Stoic. Cold. Rob finally broke his gaze,
and stopped moving in the mass of sweating, gyrating bodies. He leaned down and spoke into Joelle’s ear, and her body stiffened. She stopped and turned around slowly.

Her eyes widened, flashing regret, hurt, and sorrow all at once. She
walked over to him with huge eyes and pink, flushed cheeks, her mouth nearly quivering in tears.

“How did you
–”

“Limo driver called; said he was concerned about you.”

“Nick, I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes pleading, and looking agonized. She dropped her head. “I–”

Rob came up behind her
, and he and Nick stared each other down. Nick eventually sighed and shook his head; he was tired. He didn’t even know if he had any right to feel indignant. He was the other guy here, not Rob. Rob put a hand on Joelle’s back. Not possessively, as he once would have, but supporting her, as if reassuring her. Nick hated it. He hated that Rob seemed better. Somehow changed. Definitely different.

Nick reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his wallet. He took out Joelle’s driver’s license, her one spare key to her condo, and his own credit card. Handing it over to Rob, he said, “Her license, and house key.”

Rob looked down, surprised, then back up at Nick with a sudden visible respect, that verged on near embarrassment. “Ah, thanks. That was decent of you.”

“Yeah, well, see that she gets home safely this time.
I mean it, Rob, don’t let anything happen to her.” And, oh yeah,
fuck you
.

“I deserve that. But things are different now.”

“Good. For her sake.” 

Joelle
followed their conversation, her eyes alternating from Nick to Rob and back again. She frowned as she saw what Rob took from Nick. It dawned on her then exactly what he was doing. Her eyes looked into Nick’s, and for the life of him, Nick didn’t know what she was trying to say.