Friday, December 16
Out in full force and hungry, the holiday shoppers stood shoulder to shoulder in the diner’s lobby.
Angelica’s North Country best friend, Leah Botts, a homeschooling mom extraordinaire, chose this place as an escape.
The crowded restaurant only heightened Angelica’s frustration.
She pictured a private setting for her latest romantic disaster conversation.
Once they were comfortably seated in the booth decorated with festive garland, Angelica fed her jittery nerves a slice of cheesecake.
Amid the chatter, cackles, and clatter of dishes, Angelica shared her Matt “mishap.” Okay, she only mentioned the heated argument. She left out the part where, feeling threatened, she clumsily collided with the coffee table as she backed away from him.
“Do you have any idea how I should handle this?”
“I never liked him, Angelica,” Leah said, waving to a friend across the room. “He was always in your face, trying to drum up new business.”
“But he wasn’t spending the money on me,” Angelica said, rolling her eyes.
Leah dunked her tea bag up and down repeatedly in the cup of hot water, as if she were cleaning a paintbrush. “Why did you keep seeing him then?” she asked.
Angelica explained the state of their nights out. Matt took her out to eat a lot. He was an early-bird dinner aficionado. Conveniently, surf and turf weren’t on the menu.
“That’s it?” her girlfriend buzzed. “You didn’t sign up for benefits?”
Their relationship came with benefits—the whole benefit package. This wasn’t the place to tell her companion he was the best lover she’d ever had, but that might be up for debate. That’s what happens when your mind is fuzzy.
Angelica lowered her eyes and murmured, “I will admit to being tempted.”
Although only a little older than her, Leah misinterpreted her friend’s comment and smiled like a proud mother. “I commend you for your restraint.”
“Ahh … let’s get back to my problem. What do you suggest I do about Matt?”
Leah settled back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Tell him that an ex-boyfriend is back in town and wants to rekindle your romance. A simple, neat, clean break.”
Angelica reflected on the advice she could have used years ago. That breakup was far more complicated and led to more than just a broken heart.
As Angelica dissected her shortcomings and lack of romance awareness skills, Leah said, “I think the man picking up an order is staring at you. Do you know him? But don’t turn around.”
“How am I supposed to know if I can’t look?”
Not quite ready for covert operations, Leah gestured like a conductor and stage-whispered, “The coast is clear now. He’s busy pulling out his wallet.”
For several reasons, Angelica’s hand went to her forehead. She casually glanced to the side, spotting the only person at the pick-up counter. “Nope, never met him.”
Leah eyed the man and, off the cuff, decided, “He could be a lawyer. He’s dressed well enough to be one.”
A further peek over her shoulder led Angelica to speculate. “Don’t lawyers wear suits and ties? That guy is wearing a herringbone tweed sports jacket, slacks, and a dress shirt with a tie. But the tie is hanging loose around his open collar. Still, his clothes are high-end.”
“He might not have to appear in court today. It could be Dress Down Thursday or is it Casual Friday?” Leah mumbled, fingering her chin.
A handful of children later, her tablemate appeared to be suffering from severe brain fog, confirming the advantage of no kiddies.
“Lawyers only have a dress-down day on the golf course,” Angelica chatted.
Leah tapped on the tabletop as if the Formica were a laptop with answers. She found them and tossed out a list of the limited professional career options in the area.
Tired of playing ten guesses, Angelica returned to her cup, which sadly didn’t contain tea leaves. She tore open a packet of raw sugar and added it to the cooling tea.
Her girlfriend kept prophesying as the gentleman in question walked by. “I think he likes you.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“You would’ve noticed he smiled at you if you weren’t busy playing tea party, Angelica.”
“Perhaps he smiled at you?” she good-naturedly bickered. “Besides, his occupation doesn’t matter. We won’t see him again.”
Not deterred, and perhaps holding the cup lined with tea leaves, Leah noted with a grin, “This is a small town. Don’t be so sure you won’t cross paths with him. Mr. Great Dresser might be behind the drill when you go to the dentist.”
Angelica snorted. She needed to loosen up. Leah gave her a solution to her dilemma, and Matt Jenkins would soon be packing his bag.
* * *
Nicholas stood in front of the endless mirrors above the bathroom vanity, his body sprinkled with droplets from the shower.
He looked damn good for the life he led, the hours he kept, and his age.
Forty. Full head of hair, no wrinkles to speak of.
His body was slim but toned, as if he worked out.
He did most days, make that nights, but not in a gym.
He slipped into a pair of jeans (his only pair), donned imported tasseled shoes, and exited the double doors of his master suite into the duplicity of his life.
Almost everyone in the state knew the name Nicholas Ponte, the owner of the Ponte Luxury Motors empire. The businessman who made it into Who’s Who. But few knew the real man. Not even those closest to him. In fact, only one person did.
Otherwise, the persona he projected to the public was the one he wanted them to see. The upstanding, successful citizen. The kid from the slums who started with nothing and, through hard work and ambition, achieved it all.
Nicholas stood before the fifty-foot glass wall in his living room, his well-earned place at the top of the world. Just think: he began in the automotive industry as a car salesman.
Vinnie Donatelli was the man with the bucks, while Nicholas was the young punk with the dream. The visionary. The one who didn’t accept the status quo. Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse for the close-minded, older man.
Accidents can happen on an all-day fishing trip if you can’t swim. Nicholas later learned from a reliable source aboard the boat that the deck was dangerously slippery that day. Anyone could have fallen overboard. It was bound to happen.
When the boat returned to the dock later that night, there was one less person aboard. Vinnie and his luck sank to the bottom of the river, while Nicholas’s luck rose above sea level. He unexpectedly—was totally shocked—when he became the sole owner of a luxury auto dealership.
Just like in the game Monopoly, you have to own one house before you can build a hotel. So, he started building, and now he’s close to having a hotel. And he plans to own many more.
In spite of the night’s calming nature, the same couldn’t be said for his soul.
Nicholas walked to the dining area and his wet bar, lined with bottles from award-winning wineries, whose labels he couldn’t pronounce.
One more thing he earned. He removed the cork, filled the crystal goblet, and recorked the bottle.
He sipped as his heels clicked on the floor.
He settled into his club chair, overlooking the moonlit river below, and crossed his leg over his knee.
There was no activity now. The pleasure crafts were either stored away for the season or tied securely to the dock on the waterway.
The glass met his mouth, his sip longer this time. His nights were getting worse.
He was an after-hours, twilight man. Loved the nights and the women. Always had loved women. Had a hard time keeping his hands off them. Going all the way back. They were his end-of-day relaxation. Recharged his battery. Rejuvenated him for the next day.
Those women were the ones he “played” with. Hell, he played hard. He liked rough-touch football and tackling. Nothing rudimentary. No vanilla, he wanted rocky road sex. He was a very bad boy when the clothes came off, whether he was on his back or not.
Regardless of his thirst, he only did that with women he paid top dollar for, the ones you never take back to your house.
And you don’t bring them home to your mother, marry them, or choose them as the mother of your children.
That woman must have class and refinement and be steeped in innocence.
Pure. Untouched. Hold her on a pedestal.
His eyes swept across the massive room. Empty.
Nicholas drained the glass, empty like his home.
One in the morning. He owns a piece of the world and lives in a castle, yet there’s no damsel in his king-sized bed.
No woman clinging to him. When he wakes at dawn, it will be the same.
What the ...? Because he screwed up. Despondency didn’t overtake him; fury did.
He snatched his phone from the side table.
A groggy voice answered. “Yeah?”
“Jack. Pick me up at my place.”
“Where to?”
“Usual late-night stop. I’ll be in the lobby.” Nicholas ended the call.
He texted the all-too-familiar number.
Now!
The reply was instantaneous.
Ok
A quick change into sweats, then a ride in his limousine, found him at the curb outside her apartment. Monique, the tall, curvy, ebony beauty, sprinted down the walkway, opened the back door, and hopped in. No seat belts for this trip.
If truth be told, it wasn’t long before everything flew off, including her belt.
Bare skin to bare skin, they worked fiercely and passionately to wear the leather off the seat.
By the time the limo parked by the riverbank and the back windows fogged up, they had tumbled onto the carpet and were starting their second ride.