Chapter 54
54
M aeve
Saturday comes, and we’re getting ready to leave the tiny apartment. It’s really time for me to move out—it took us many elbow jabs and bickering to get dressed in this small space. We can’t keep living like this without murdering each other.
I borrowed Bea’s sleeved, black dress which has a long slit up to my thigh. I also found a red lacy cami in her underwear drawer and a sewing needle. After making a few alterations, the cami is on top of the dress, giving it character. The leftovers of the material are wrapped around the visible part of my thigh, making it peek through with every move like lingerie. The red headband and hair piled on top of my head finish the look of sexy casual.
When Bea sees me checking my creation in the mirror, she whistles, grabs scissors, and walks up to me, silently asking me to do something with her dress too. I accept with a giddy feeling—my hands have been itching to change her deep blue backless dress into something that will suit her better. She has fantastic legs, so I cut the hem just below the knees and add a deeper V line.
Hand sewing takes time, especially when Bea decided that she wants her dress altered an hour before we’re supposed to leave, so we arrive at the gala at eight fifteen. I rush to open the door of the taxi, nearly tripping over the hem of my dress while trying to step out, hoping we didn’t miss Jeff’s performance. I’d never forgive myself if it happens due to our vanity.
The moment the taxi door opens, we get blinded by flashes from everywhere. I think for a moment that they’ll realize it’s just us and stop. But I’m proven wrong because the flashes intensify along with the cries.
“Mrs. King, please look here. Smile here!”
“Why did you decide to go against the rules the first outing?”
“What are you wearing today? Is that something from the new collection?”
Exchanging confused looks with Bea, we hurry up the stairs. I’m ready to give my name to the guard at the doors, when he gestures for me to go in.
“This way, Mrs. King.”
Feeling even more confused, we walk inside. The room is full.
The room is weird.
Very fucking weird.
Nearly every single woman in the crowded space is wearing some form of the dress I wore before. The one with the pink lace underneath. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much lace in one room outside of the lingerie store.
“I’m in the twilight zone,” Bea mumbles next to me, and I silently agree with her .
I loathed coming here due to the original impression the society and I had on each other, but hostility is the last thing I’m feeling right now. Instead, everyone looks ecstatic when their eyes land on us.
“Maybe we should leave?” I whisper-yell to Bea, who looks as confused as I am.
“Maeve!” comes a loud voice usually associated with comfort for me.
I turn toward the sound. “Jeff?” I half say half ask, not recognizing the man in front of me.
Wearing a three-piece burgundy wool suit and a short haircut, without his long, unkept beard, he looks like a movie star from the sixties.
“Yes, yes, kid. That’s me,” he chuckles, limping over to me. “I’m so glad you made it. The show is about to begin.”
I move to give him a hug when Noah’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to begin. Please take your seats.”
Giving Jeff a quick hug accompanied by a confused look, I glance around. “What’s going on?” I whisper into his ear.
“Hold on, kid.” He gives me a strong squeeze before letting go. “I gotta get ready. We’ll talk after, yes?”
A nod in response is all I can manage. He rushes away when Martin speed walks to us while his attentive eyes run over my body. “Woman, you just set a new trend. Before we even sold the last one. I can’t wait to see it going places.” Without waiting for my reply, he envelops me into his tight hug. Then just as quickly he drops me and grabs Bea, who looks slightly confused to say the least.
“Hello, sister. Bea, right?” He pulls away and places his open palm on his chest. “I’m mighty Martin. Pleasure to meet you.”
Bea looks like a deer spooked in headlights. Then she slowly starts moving backward. Not looking where she’s going, she bumps into Noah’s chest. His arms grab her shoulders.
“Where are you running to, little mouse?”
Not sure I hear the words because of how quiet they are, but I definitely can read his lips. His nostrils are flared while eyes are slightly hooded. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s in a heaven of hate. At that, Bea’s eyes light up with defiance as she steps away from him with squared back shoulders.
“I am not, Neanderthal.” Dramatically wiping the spot on her shoulder just touched by Noah, she throws her loose hair back. “Where is our table, Martin?”
Martin’s curious eyes dart between the two of them before his face stretches with a wide smile. “This way.” He gestures toward the stage, continuing to ogle them.
Noah mumbles something else to Bea who shoots him an angry glare and follows Martin. We’re sitting at the first table next to the stage. I mean, I know if Jeff’s performing, he can get any tickets, but I bet these tickets could be sold for a pretty penny. So I’m not sure how Bea and I ended up in the first row.
While people are finding their tables, they do the unthinkable—stop by our table. Saying how gorgeous my dress is and how much they want to get my old one. I just keep nodding my thanks, not understanding what’s happening.
Soon, when everyone’s seated, a man in a black tuxedo shows up on the stage. The room goes dark just as multiple spotlights focus on his figure.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here and bringing your fat wallets with you.” Chuckles go through the room as the man waits them out. “It’s for a good cause.” He brings his finger up in the air. “Today, we’ve gathered here to celebrate many things. First, we have someone very important here.” The room quiets. “We have someone who can make your souls sing. Who can play your heartstrings like no other, and someone we haven’t heard in many years. Today, we are fortunate to hear the sax brought to life by none other than Jeffrey Bernard!”
The man’s voice rises at the end, and the spotlights move to the side of the scene where, nestled in a musician groove, are a few people dressed in evening gowns and fashionable suits. With Jeff standing in the middle.
His face is shining. I see his eyes welling with tears even from here. People start clapping, and I jump to my feet, clapping louder than everyone else. I don’t know any other human who would deserve this moment more than him. I clap so enthusiastically, my palms hurt. Jeff wipes his eyes discreetly and gives a small wave to the audience.
When people don’t stop clapping, he smiles shyly and gestures for people to stop. It takes us a few moments to calm down, but when we are done, they start playing.
Immediately my heart starts singing along with the music. I’ve always loved jazz. To me, it’s such a beautifully chaotic music that speaks to the strings inside my body. When Jeff closes his eyes and takes a different tune, my eyes well with tears. This song is sad. It’s also happy. It makes me feel sorry for myself while being happy with what I am. It makes me laugh. It makes me cry.
It makes me feel.
I also feel a hot stare on the side of my face. Following the intensity of the feeling, I find Ezra standing behind the curtain, looking at me. No, not looking. Staring. Consuming me with his eyes. Like he missed me. Like he wants to touch me as much as I want to touch him.
Then I blink, and he’s gone.
Looking away, I try to focus on Jeff and this beautiful moment of his life, but my eyes keep going back to the spot where Ezra just was, in hopes that he’ll be back. He’s not though.
Jeff and the musicians play a few more songs before they all stand up in line and bow. The audience erupts with applause, giving the band the recognition they deserve.
The same announcer pops back on the stage.
“Wow.” He places his hand to his chest. “I’m so ready to go and see my partner after that. I’ve always found saxophones to be sexy.” A few light laughs ripple through the audience before he continues. “Speaking of sexy. Are you ready to get your wallets out and bid some money for charity?”
A soft chorus of yays is not loud enough, so the man tilts his head to the side. “That was weak. We’re here for a good cause, people. Let’s make sure we feel our karma getting good vibes. Are you ready to empty your wallets?” he asks louder this time, and the audience matches his tone. “That’s what I’m talking about! Now, all the money raised today with your help will go toward feeding the homeless and creating different opportunities to change their lives for the better.” He raises his voice again, and people start clapping. “Good! That’s what I’m talking about! Now, shall we begin?”
People supporting Jeff so wholeheartedly and the same people being so enthusiastic about helping those who need it makes me question my initial assessment of said people. Maybe I am the judgmental one here?
After meeting Jeff and being homeless myself, I feel a special connection to this event. Not having any money of my own doesn’t stop me from wondering if it would be such a bad idea to donate some of Ezra’s money from the card that’s been burning a hole in my pocket.
From what I’m able to gather, everyone has donated items for the auction. Some of them are flying away for tens of thousands of dollars. A honeymoon trip to the Maldives. A first edition of Pride and Prejudice . A shirt Elvis wore at one of his concerts.
The number of donations displayed on the screen is rising rather rapidly, making my heart jump with every purchase.
“Are you ready?” Martin asks quietly, placing his hand on top of mine. I’ve been so engrossed in the auction that I didn’t even notice him join us. After a quick glance around, I see people whispering to each other in something that one might describe as anticipation.
“For what?” I whisper back.
But Martin doesn’t have time to reply because the announcer roars into the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, are we ready for the last item you’ve been promised?”
Ladies cheer while men exchange knowing smirks.
“I take that as a yes,” he laughs. “Let me introduce you to the Pink Queen, the main item of the evening!”
Someone pulls the cover off the last thing rolled onto the stage, revealing… my dress. My dress? The very same dress I wore on my first outing with Ezra as a couple. It’s fixed on a white mannequin just like it was on me. They called it the Pink Queen ?
“Martin,” I hiss, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him toward me. “Why is my dress on the stage?”
“Because it’s gorgeous?” His brow is quirked mockingly.
“I didn’t make this dress! It’s not fair! I just took pieces created by someone else and put them together!” My hissing is so vicious, it hurts my throat.
“They don’t care,” he hisses back. “You managed to catch the King. He publicly rejected Lebovski’s wife on the day you wore that dress. They want to be you.”
“Lebovski’s wife?” I blink, feeling lost.
“The woman at the gala? I checked who that bi—” stopping himself mid word, he looks around, “person was. Yeah, that was Leonard Lebovski’s wife. Why do you think he hates Ezra so much?”
“Because of the company?” I assume weakly.
“Duh. It’s collateral. She’s been after Ezra since the moment Lebovski came to the board. And trust me, she takes no prisoners. She’s a powerful foe, Maeve. Very.” His tone is warning. “Men succumb not only to her beauty, but her power too. Ezra has never been disrespectful to her, just neutral. That day though?” His brows go up. “That day he made sure everyone knew he was off limits. Because of you.” His finger presses into my shoulder. “You made quite a stir without lifting a finger. And you wore that dress.” He points at the stage. “So now everyone wants to have it.”
“But I didn’t make the dress!”
“It doesn’t matter. You shifted something that evening in Ezra, and he shifted the whole world. Take the win, woman. And take the money and build something for the people of this city.” He rounds his eyes at me, urging me to shut up. I want to say something back, but Bea grabs my hand and pulls hard on it.
“Take the damn win and pay Jeff back,” she orders angrily. “Yell later.”
I shoot her an angry glare, then focus on the stage.
“As many of you’re aware, this dress belongs to the King family. So I’ll let King himself deal with this one.” Winking at me, he walks to the side of the stage where the curtain moves, revealing an unsure-looking Ezra. His composure changes into powerful and magnetic in an instant. Absolutely breathtaking, with his hair sleeked to the side and his silky suit hugging his wide shoulders, he draws everyone’s eyes to him.
My eyes are on him too, but for a different reason. I know how this man looks without the suit and this carefully controlled demeanor. I know how wild he can be. How chaotic. A far cry from the man on the stage.
And the more I look, the more I understand that I miss my Ezra. I miss our evenings on the couch, watching silly TV shows. Miss our morning coffees when I spike his cup with something unusual. Miss our crazy sex moments where we go for it in the most spontaneous places, using his ties and my kitchen towels. I miss everything about him.
And he didn’t even call me.
While I drool over my husband, he walks up to the stand with a microphone and clears his throat.
“As many of you know, I got married,” he starts in a coarse voice while whistles and cheers echo through the room. “Yes, yes, thank you. My wife, right there,” he points at me, drawing every single pair of eyes in my direction, “used to have this awesome friend who happened to be homeless. He became homeless because of something my family did.”
The air gets thicker, and everyone’s attention is now solely focused on him. Including mine. I don’t think I’ve blinked since he stepped foot onstage.
“It’s time we remedy that,” he continues firmly, standing tall and proud of taking responsibility for his family’s actions.
My chest is so filled with pride for him, it’s ready to explode.
“All the money raised today will go toward funding the needs of the center for homeless people that my brother Noah’s creating, and King Developers will build on its own funds. My wife, Maeve, will be leading the place. I can’t wait to see what she’ll call it. We most likely will have to sensor the name because she has quite an imagination.”
Chuckles go through the room, followed by curious stares thrown my way.
“This money,” he points at the screen, “will go directly toward providing people with things they need and that they can’t get themselves. Now, let’s get this ball rolling and sell this dress my wife created. I’m going to say something, but don’t send your lawyers my way,” he adds with a lopsided smile, making everyone laugh. He’s a new Ezra, a charming one. Someone who rarely makes an appearance. “Ladies, it will make your men do unthinkable things.”
Ladies, excited at the prospect of unthinkable things, keep raising their bidding paddles, bringing the value of the dress to unthinkable numbers. I sit still with my hand on my mouth because if I remove my hand, my jaw will probably hit the floor, and that’s not a good look for someone who’s supposed to be sophisticated and sexy after all those unthinkable things.
After the bidding war is over, the number on the screen almost doubles, which nearly sends me into shock. I can’t believe someone would pay this ridiculous amount for a dress I wore. I could understand if it was Marilyn Monroe or Lady Gaga. But me?
When the dress is being rolled away and everyone congratulates the winner who’s biting her lip, looking suggestively at her partner, I can’t take it anymore and rush outside.
“Maeve, do you want me to come with you?” Bea calls to my back.
“No, I’ll be back.”
Halfway through the room, someone grabs my hand. It’s one of the women who was among those who looked at me disapprovingly at first. I want to shake her hold off, but she drops her hand first.
“Hey, sorry. Hi, Maeve!” Her friendly voice sounds fake.
I look at her quizzically.
“Ezra mentioned to my husband during the board meeting that you’re working on your first collection. ”
“First collection?”
“Yes.” She nods. “The spring collection?” She waits for me to confirm or nod or something, but I’m lost. “Anyway, I wanted to see if I can get an invitation for the show. My sister is having her wedding in April, and I want to impress guests with someone new and extraordinary, you know? She can be a lot, and I want to be more.”
I don’t, because it’s your sister’s freaking wedding ! But I just nod and excuse myself past her, out the room and toward the bathroom. When I’m inside, I carefully check all four stalls to make sure I’m alone. When I feel safe to let myself fall apart, I let out a loud exhale.
“Holy cow. I’m stuck in some weird dream.”
The bathroom door clicks, and I rush to plaster a smile on my face in case one of the vultures followed me here.
But it’s not one of them. It’s Ezra, my very own sort of torturer. His eyes run from my toes to my head before he turns the lock on the doorhandle. My gaze darts between his fingers and his face.
“What are you doing?” My voice sounds coarse.
“Came to save you.” He takes a small step toward me.
“From what?”
“From people throwing themselves at you to get in line for your new collection.” Another step.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You said you wanted to be a designer, and I promised you your dreams.” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m delivering.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” I say grouchily, sounding like an ungrateful teenager even to my own ears. “And I don’t need your money.”
“You don’t. But some people do. Imagine how much good you can do.” His face brightens with a one-sided boyish smile .
Narrowing my eyes at him, I ask, “I can spend your money on anything I want?”
“Anything you want.” Two steps this time.
“In exchange for what?” I raise my chin.
“Not much.” His laugh is breathy. “Just staying with me as my wife and letting me do unthinkable things to you.”
I snort. “It sounds like prostitution.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He shrugs one shoulder with a smile.
“Boris Lebovski might not agree with you.”
“I’ll cry myself to sleep over that.” Three steps away from me is where he stops.
“I cried myself to sleep too,” I suddenly confess.
His mouth falls slightly ajar. “I’m sorry.” His face is pained.
“I thought you used me to get your company back and then decided to disregard me like week-old garbage.”
“Not a week-old though. Just a few days.”
I step forward and punch his shoulder, making him laugh.
“I’m sorry, Mae.” His voice turns into a whisper.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I wanted to have proof for the things I wanted to say. I don’t know how to talk beautifully. I know nothing about pretty bows on top of confessions. I just know actions. Actions prove more than any words would.” He’s not moving forward even though I want him to. I think he’s giving me the control here.
“What did you want to say?”
His hand touches my cheek. “That I fell in love with my wife.” His finger moves to my chin. “That I fell in love with her long before I even knew her name.” It touches my lower lip. “I love you, Maeve. Even though you might hate me now, I still love you. And I can wait until you love me back.”
Swallowing a big lump in my throat, I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. So I try again. “I—I love you too. I told you that already.”
His eyes widen. “So you were first with the love declaration. I thought I dreamed it.”
Rolling my eyes, I smack his shoulder again. “C’mon. Did you really need to ruin the sappy moment I was living for?”
His laugh sounds relieved. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Can you repeat that part though?”
“Which one?”
“About loving me.”
“No! You ruined it.”
“Maeve,” he says with a warning.
“No! Go away!”
“Maeve,” he growls, pulling me in and bringing me flush to his front. “Say it.”
I rise on my tippytoes and say right into his face, “No.”
Growling louder, he pushes his nose into mine. I expect him to kiss me, and I want him to, but knowing Ezra, he won’t let it slide until he gets what he wants.
“Maeve,” comes as a low warning. “Say it.”
“Say it first.”
“I love you, wife,” he says without hesitation. “For better and for worse. Your turn now.”
My resolve melts away, giving in to the desire to make him happy. “I love you too.” Then I add with a slight wince, “And maybe I overreacted a little bit. You know, back then. I just thought you’d call, and we’d resolve it, but you went radio silent.”
“I’m sorry about that. Sometimes I have a hard time reading your mind.”
I nod, graciously accepting his apology. “Do better next time.”
He presses his nose into my temple with a chuckle. “I’m a work in progress. Bear with me.” Pulling away far enough just to take my hand, he pats my giant ring with his finger. “You’re still wearing it.”
“I am.” I smile back. “What about you?”
Lifting his hand up in the air to show the golden band on his finger, he announces, sounding as serious as ever, “I never planned on taking it off. Nor will I.”
He makes a move to drop his hand down, but I grab it halfway and bring it to my lips. “Neither do I.”
With suddenly shiny eyes, he lets out a short exhale. I never thought I’d see Ezra King breaking apart with relief with me agreeing to stick to him forever like glue. But things change, so do people.
He takes my left hand while I’m still holding his and brings it to his face. “I need to buy you another ring though. Whatever you want.”
Letting go of him, I swat his hand away from my ring. “Let my precious be. It’s grown on me.”
He lets out a surprised, short laugh. “This monstrosity?”
I cradle my hand with the ring. “It’s pretty. And it fits the bill.”
“What bill?” His eyes twinkle with curiosity.
“The bill of being a wife of a douchebag. Let us be.” I give the ring a dramatic kiss, shooing Ezra away. “Don’t be scared, my precious. You’re staying right where you belong.”
Someone tries opening the door, and when it doesn’t give in, they knock. They knock again. Then someone starts complaining that they’re about to pee right there, and only then does Ezra move away. “Do you want to save your future customer?”
“No. Not really,” I say, biting my lip.
“My evil woman,” he replies with a laugh, pulling me into a hug.