CHAPTER NINEEric’s POV
CHAPTER NINE
Eric’s POV
For weeks now I have heard nothing from Lydia. She hasn't shown up to work and she isn't picking up her calls…or her paychecks. Pattie says she tried to convince her to stay, but it seemed like her mind was certain that she wanted to leave.
I miss her liveliness and her firmness. Her sweetness lightens this big, empty house. I had no clue she was the woman I had always dreamed of. Her face was vague in my dreams—prison makes one's mind obscure. I forgot how she looked. The only thing I picked up was the brunette hair and the strawberry scent of her shampoo.
Pieces of the short time we had together in the past flit through my memory. I remember her laughter, her smile. She was easy to talk to and I immediately felt a deep connection with her.
One conversation led to another until the bar closed. I was in no state to drive, so we walked to her apartment nearby. She invited me in for a nightcap and one kiss led to another…
After our night together, I was even more enamored and wanted to know everything about her. I saw us having a future together.
Why oh why did I insist at our meeting to keep our identities secret. I had made it into my standard habit whenever I met girls. Coming from a prominent family with money, I wanted to be accepted and liked for me, not my money.
I desperately wanted to find her after I was released from jail, but I'd forgotten her address. I didn't know her name, I didn't have her phone number. How was I supposed to single out one woman in the whole of Los Angeles?
I gave up looking for her, for love, but the dreams kept coming. I could feel her but I couldn't touch her. Hallucinations, maybe, got in the way. She was always there in my mind, but when I opened my eyes, she wasn't.
She plagued my heart.
Lydia's revelation that night made a lot of sense. She has a son who is seven years old. A boy who looks like me in all ways. I should have solved the puzzle, I should have known that the woman I've been dreaming of for the past seven years was my assistant and lived inside my house.
Why didn’t I recognize her when I first encountered her? I wasn’t lying when I told her that prison changes a person’s thoughts.
Her face has changed…it was fuller, more mature, but no less beautiful. And given our first encounter at the office and how I reacted, she never smiled at me the way she did back then. No wonder I didn’t recognize her…
What did I do when she told me? I couldn’t answer my question. The gold was given to me on a platter, but I didn't take it. Because of reasons I can't even decipher.
Instead, I was gnawing on the past. I was obsessed with getting my accusers to jail. To get justice. Or is it revenge?
The afternoon sun streaming through the window illuminated my desk, the file folders that have piled up. Surreptitiously I had left them there, hoping Lydia would come back and put order to my life.
No more private investigators, I tell myself. Maybe they deserve a second chance. I search through my private investigator’s number and place a call to him.
“Dwayne,” I say when he picks up. “I want you to—”
“Mr. Greene, I was about to call you ’ he sounded breathless and excited. “I found something…I found your accusers.”
I sit up. “Who are they? Why did they want me?”
“I found a certain man: Payne. I tracked him down to his house and I found out that he was linked to the killing of Mr. Murphy.
So, I took matters into my own hands. I tracked him to his favorite watering place and plied him with drinks.
“With a little bit of coaxing, he confessed. He said you weren't the target and they had only realized it when the deed had been done. They couldn't undo it.”
I cut his statement halfway. “Who was the target?”
“Max Burton,” Dwayne replies. “Do you know him? He said you should ask him about it, but you can still ask Payne if you want. He’s not going anywhere for a while…”
I don't have time to think why Max was a target of anything.. I guess I'll be paying him a visit. “Good work, Dwayne,” I said. “Take him to the Los Angeles Police Department. They'll know what to do with him. I'll take care of Max myself.”
I should meet Max in person rather than talk to him over the phone. I send him a text, telling him I'll be coming to his house. I need to get to the bottom of this.
I ring his doorbell twice before he opens up. Max is dressed in a plaid shirt—he is always in a plaid shirt. “Hey,what's up?” he asks as he opens the door widely.
“Hi” I greet him. “We have something to talk about.
“Sure. Beer? Brandy? Wine?”
“Beer is fine.”
He brings out two cans of beer and passes one to me. “What do you want to talk about?”
“How well do you know a man called Payne?”
I see the shock on his face as I mention the man's name. His color turned a slightly gray hue.I pop the beer and the liquid sizzles, closing up the silence between us.
He gulped, then stammered “he was in a casino where I gambled years ago. Ten, eleven years ago. I can't really remember…It was a tough year.”
He took a swig of his beer, then went on “I went into a lot of debt.” He looked away, “I had a hard time getting out of the mess.”
“So, you owed the Payne guy?” I guessed.
“Yes. A hundred grand or so. Or more. I can't remember.” Another swig. “He charged exorbitant fees for his so-called loans.”
“Payne was the man who set me up,” I chip. “He was aiming for you, but he got me. All because of your debt.”
“I,…I'm sorry, Eric. I didn't know.” He buried his head in his hands. “I thought I put all of that behind me. I didn't know it would come to bite me in the back.”
“How did he get my name? Why was I his target?” I was now up and walking back and forth in agitation.
He takes in deep breaths. “I was drunk one night. His henchmen came to my door. I could see that they meant business. Either I pay or else…” he paused.
“I was scared, so I told them they got the wrong guy. Then, I slipped your address by mistake. They asked me questions and I answered blindly…I don't know what happened. I'm sorry, man.”
I sucked in my breath sharply.
“When they arrested you for some guy’s murder, I knew you were innocent, but I didn’t know that it had to do with Payne.”
“You've got to be kidding me?” I spat. How come you never thought to mention this once in the seven years that I spent paying for a crime I never committed?” My words are harsh and laced with anger.
“The murder victim - Murphy - was probably another debtor who didn’t have the funds to pay. They must’ve killed him to make an example of him to scare YOU into paying them.”
Things were clicking together in my mind…how all the evidence they found at my house were planted there while I was away that night... with Lydia…
I couldn’t even call on Lydia as a witness to testify that I had spent the night with her, because I didn’t know her name or her address.
So instead, it took seven years of jail before my legal team was able to prove my innocence. And all because Max, my supposed best friend, blurted out my address to Payne’s henchmen to save his own skin.
The rage boiling inside of me is enough to erupt a volcano and that seems like a good idea in this very instant.
“I'm sorry, man. I just…” Max started…
My fist comes down on his face before I even have the time to contemplate it. Blood spills from his mouth as he lays on the floor in a surprised heap.
He nods in defeat. “I guess I deserved that.” He raises himself off the floor slowly and before he pulls into his complete height, I am sending him right back to the floor with another solid punch to the jaw.
He spits out blood and I force my eyes shut, my fists squeezing tight beside my body. I want so badly to beat this man to a stupor, but given the way I feel, I could easily end up back in jail and I cannot have that.
I turn around to stalk away.
“Have you heard from Lydia?” Max calls out, halting my retreat.
I shake my head without turning around.
“You love her, don't you?”
I finally face him, my eyes steel hard as it shoots daggers at him. “I do.”
He gets off the floor and walks up to me, blood still dripping from his mouth. Then he pats my shoulder. “Perhaps more cans of beer would help.“
“I guess it would,” I say dryly.
“My wife is not home so I can take as much as I want. She would frown if I took more than one.”
The mention of Lydia brought me back to sanity. My anger dissipated. I can’t forgive Max so readily, but at the mention of her name, all I can think about is Lydia and my son.
I don't feel so violent anymore. I feel all of the pent up anger drain away from my system as I realize that Max would never intentionally hurt me.
“I'm going to get some more beer.”
“You will go get some,” I repeat.
Suddenly, he burst into a fit of laughter. “It's weird to see a rich man sad and in love. The Eric Greene people fear being broken by a woman. That's more ironic than life.”
“Go get me my beer, Max or risk needing a facial reconstruction,” I warn.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Chill man.” He walks off to his refrigerator and brings out a full pack of beer. He also carries a roll of paper towel to dab away the blood around his mouth.
I open can after can and drown in the liquor. I've lost Lydia once and I survived.
I've lost her again. I hope I cope.
Max suddenly claps me on the shoulder with a serious expression. “There's this coffee place across the street from your office...maybe you should check it out. If I'm not mistaken, it might be Lydia's best friend's place...Plus, it's got pretty decent coffee and great muffins.”
“Screw you,” I curse him and he laughs like he has a secret.
Screw him indeed. I walked out of Max’ house into the cool, refreshing night air. I drove off with the windows open, hoping the air brushing against my face would cool my temper, my anger towards Max, and my longing for Lydia.