Hooked Up: Book 2 (52 page)

It quickly shook me out of my self-pity, realizing that I was one of the lucky ones in the world. Natalie, not so. Her aunt was a victim of the superstorm’s wrath. She lived in Queens, in a neighborhood that was first ravaged by flood waters, before a raging fire burned everything to the ground leaving nothing but a pile of ashes, debris of wrecked cars and dead trees reflected in the oily, knee-deep water.

Natalie was broken-hearted. I thought of what Alexandre had said a couple of weeks earlier, when we’d been talking about choices we make in life, and he said something like:
“Maybe Natalie’s had a relatively lucky life. Perhaps she’s never been a victim of circumstance or ever had to battle with personal demons.”

Poor Natalie, she certainly was a victim of circumstance now and would be haunted by demons for the rest of her life.

When Bruce arrived back from visiting his parents, I knew it was time to leave. I had options. Go back to New York and settle into my new apartment, the one Alexandre had organized for me. Luckily, the Upper East Side was still in working order, not the case for some other parts of Manhattan, where the storm had wreaked havoc. I had only seen photos of the apartment, a stunning two bedroom, pre-war co-op, just around the corner from where my place was (which I’d sublet for another ten months and couldn’t break the contract). Alexandre offered to buy the new one for me if I liked it. I couldn’t even imagine the cost, but a lot, and I didn’t feel comfortable with all these “gifts” he was showering me with. I wanted to return them: a condo in the South of France, two incredible cars, a parking space in the city. Things which reminded me of him, reminded me that I’d played it all wrong, that I’d screwed up yet again. Things which I didn’t deserve.

Another option for me was to drive across America. I had to take the Mercedes to New York so I thought I might as well make a trip out of it.

At one point Daisy said that she and Amy would come too, because Johnny was on business in Phoenix, but then it was cancelled so she changed her mind. A ten-day drive just with me on my own didn’t appeal at all, especially with the way I was feeling.

I had spoken to Natalie several times and she advised me to stay away from New York, just for now. Meanwhile, all she wanted to do was spend time with her family.

The third option was to visit my father in Kauai, which is what I decided to do.

That’s right, Alexandre
did
call a second time, but only briefly, to ask what arrangements I had for the Mercedes and if I was planning to take it back to New York. I told him I didn’t want the car, but he was adamant I keep it. He came up with a plan. Elodie and a friend of hers could fly to San Francisco, pick it up, and deliver it to New York for me. They’d drive across the country, very carefully, with utmost respect for the car. I considered it his car anyway; his money had paid for it. Elodie and her friend could stay with Anthony and Bruce for a couple of nights before setting off on a sightseeing trip of a lifetime.

It was a strange sensation to be talking to Alexandre as if we were a divorced couple, when we’d never even gotten married in the first place. I longed for his calls, I soaked up any excuse to communicate with him, but at the same time, it was so painful. Hearing his melodic voice, remembering everything we had. The only thing I could think of to ease that pain was to get away. As always, my defense mechanism in action:

Run as far as you can . . . away from the person or thing you love most.

That’s when I made up my mind to go to Kauai.

M
ONEY AND POWER had been my obsessions for many years, working around the clock to make HookedUp what it quickly became.

Now I had an obsession of a different nature: Pearl.

Every minute of every day I wanted to be with her. Hold her. Make love to her, although she still probably wasn’t ready for that, after all those nightmares about the college rapists. All the more reason for me to give her time to heal herself, to step away from her; for her to spend a while with her brother and father. She’d told me she was going to Hawaii to visit her dad.

Pearl and I were talking, but barely. My calls were clipped and businesslike. I sent her a Birkin handbag, replete with cell phone and replacements for her other “stolen” stuff. She needed a new purse, anyway. The old one I stashed away in a suitcase.

Meanwhile I waited like a lonely crocodile in his patch of territory; no mate, no friends (except for faithful Rex), biding my time until Pearl wouldn’t be able to bear being away from me anymore. Only then would I make my move.

I had two things to sort out: sell my share of HookedUp to Sophie, once and for all, and deal with the dreaded Laura.

If I wanted to make things work with Pearl, even if she was being irrational about Sophie, I had to extricate myself from HookedUp. Because, seriously, how much money and power does a person need? I’d proven myself—I’d never have to work again if I didn’t want to. It was a small sacrifice to pay for a smooth road ahead with the woman I loved.

But Laura . . .
Jesus,
that was an unquantifiable problem waiting—like a grenade—to detonate.

I dialed her house number. I was hoping to get James on the line, to tell him what was going on—to get his crazy wife under control and keep her away from me for good. But James hadn’t been answering his cell, so I wasn’t surprised when Laura picked up. As I stood in the kitchen in my apartment, I opened the fridge door, wondering what I should snack on, but the moment I heard Laura’s voice, I lost my appetite.

“Hello darling,” she cooed.

“How did you know it was me?” I asked with suspicion—I’d hidden my number.

“Gut feeling.”

I slammed the fridge door shut so hard I heard a bottle smash. “I am not your darling, Laura. I don’t ever, ever want to see you again. Your shenanigans with me at the Connaught were bad enough, but what you did to Pearl, saying that Sophie had tried to kill you and would do the same to her was beyond imagination. She was terrified. Terrified.”

She chuckled. “That was the idea.”

“I’m marrying Pearl so you might as well accept it and get out of my fucking life.”

“You won’t marry Pearl, Alex my love, when I tell you what I know.”

Blood pounded in my ears. “What do you know?”

“I think it’s something we need to discuss, face to face. I’ll come to New York—we can have a little chat.”

“No!” And then I said calmly, “I have business to attend to in London. I’m going to Provence to see about house stuff—I’ll pick up those books of yours and bring them over to your place. And I’ll pick up my Aston Martin from your garage, too. That way, you and I will break all ties and we won’t ever have to see each other again.”

“So final. So dramatic! Well, Alex darling, if you like a little drama, I can guarantee I won’t disappoint.”

“No more games, Laura—really, this isn’t funny.”

“I thought our time together at the Connaught was hilarious, and if I remember rightly, you did too.”

“The drugs had me laughing, but I can tell you it wasn’t bloody funny standing with my dick poking out like a fucking torpedo in front of my sister and Indira Kapoor.”

Laura cackled into the line, her breath hitching in hysterics.

“So when I next come to London, I’ll bring those books, get my car, and sayonara, okay?”

“No, Alex, it’s not okay. I’m still in love with you. Surely you must have guessed that by now?”

“What you have for me, Laura, isn’t love; it’s some sort of sick obsession. If you loved me you’d want me to be happy. Please, I
beg
of you—leave me, and leave Pearl in peace to get on with our lives.”

“But I can’t do that—I want your baby.”

I knew it!
That
was what she was after when she laced my Bloody Mary with Viagra, and God only knew what else was in that cocktail. I hung up on her, my stomach coiling with fury. She was beyond insane. When she had her accident and the doctors said she hadn’t suffered brain damage, I now knew they’d got the prognosis wrong. This woman was not right in the head. Okay, she had always been highly-strung, demanding and spoiled, but this? This behavior was psychotic.

My cell rang again. I ignored it. Laura, wanting to wind me up some more. But then I glanced at the screen and saw it was Elodie. I opened the fridge again to get out a drink.

“Elodie,” I said with relief, cracking open a beer, “what’s up?”

“I’m outside your door. I forgot my key.”

“The door’s not locked, I’m in the kitchen.” I gulped down the whole bottle of beer almost in one go and the fizz prickled my nose; Laura had made me thirsty.

Elodie giggled into the line. “Oh. Duh! Okay.”

She came into the kitchen and I took a double take. She wasn’t dressed in her usual Goth attire and looked quite beautiful without all that black makeup on her eyes. She was wearing skinny jeans tucked into elegant black boots, and a pink, scoop-necked sweater accentuated her delicate neck. But the headphones she was wearing still gave her a street-cool look. She was slim, as always, but didn’t look like a scrawny sparrow anymore. I gave her a big bear hug. I’d missed her. She hadn’t been coming into the HookedUp offices much lately, because she said she was getting her art portfolio together.

“I was thinking about making an omelet or something. Are you hungry?” I asked.

She sat down. “What?”

“Take your headphones off and maybe you can hear me. What are you listening to, anyway?”

“Royals,” she said.

“Hungry?”

“Sure.”

I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. “Really, you’re eating now?”

“A girl’s got to eat.”

“Great. That’s great.” I got some ingredients out of the fridge, cracked open some eggs and whipped them in a bowl. Elodie watched me with curiosity. I doubted she did any cooking herself. Lucky about the massive choice of take-out in New York, or she probably would have starved from laziness.

“You’re pretty flashy, breaking eggs with one hand.”

“I worked as a sous chef in a restaurant in Paris once upon a time.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said.

“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me.”

“I know that you and Maman left home very young and had to look after yourselves, but she never tells me details. What did she do as a job?”

“She worked as a waitress,” I lied. “Hey, Elodie, I forgot to ask you; how’s the portfolio coming along? Still taking photos? Still making those angry angel collages?”

“Going okay, I guess, but I need to get away for a while,” she said, not wanting to look me in the eye.

I lit the gas. “What’s wrong? You’re not paranoid about being followed again, are you?”

“I need a break, but I don’t want to go back to Paris. I want to do some traveling or something. Backpack around Asia. I can go with my roommate Claire.”

“You know what? There’s a lot to see right here in the United States. There’s no need to go schlepping around dodgy foreign countries when there’s too much unrest in the world right now. Go to the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone Park, why don’t you?”

To my surprise, she replied, “Okay, good idea.”

I tore some fresh basil leaves, sprinkling bits into the pan. “I have a car . . . well, it’s Pearl’s car. It’s in San Francisco and needs to be brought to New York. Is your driver’s license in order? And your friend’s?”

Elodie got up and took a couple of beers out of the fridge and offered me one. “Yup. Cool plan. Can we take as long as we like to drive cross-country?”

“Sure. No rush. Just be careful. Don’t go over the speed limit—be prudent. Speak to my assistant Jimmy—he can get you your plane tickets there, hotels, whatever you need. You can even stay with Pearl’s brother. In fact, I’ve spoken to Pearl about the idea, and she’s cool with it all.”

“Why is Pearl’s car in San Francisco? I thought you guys had gone to LA?”

“We did, but she stayed on. Went to visit Anthony. Now she’s in Hawaii visiting her dad.”

Elodie ran her gaze over me, dissecting me, drilling her eyes into my thoughts. “You look guilty, Uncle Alexandre. What’s going on with you and Pearl?”

“Nothing.” I tried to suppress the heat-rush I felt, by turning on the sink faucet and putting the underside of my wrists under cold running water. A trick I learned in the Foreign Legion. As if on cue, my cell started buzzing. The words LAURA popped up on the screen. Elodie picked up my cell without pressing anything, but saw who the caller was.

She arched her brows. “Well aren’t you going to answer it?”

I shook my head.
Fucking psycho Laura, leave me alone!

“She called
me
the other day, you know. She wanted to know Pearl’s number. What’s up?”

“Keep away from Laura, Elodie. Don’t answer her calls and do not, whatever you do, give her any information about
anything
or
anybody
at all.”

“But Laura’s nice! She was always really friendly to me.”

“Was
is the operative word. That accident changed her.”

“So what’s that got to do with Pearl? Why does Laura want to get in touch with her? Why didn’t you go with Pearl to Hawaii?”

I switched off the gas burner. “Would you get us a couple of plates and some silverware?”

Elodie got up. “Why didn’t you go to Hawaii with her?” she asked again.

“She needed space. Needed to sort a few things out.”

“I doubt it. Pearl’s crazy about you—anyone can see that. It’s
you,
I bet, playing games. Playing ‘I need space’ games. So typical.”

“We both need a little break.”

“Yeah, right. That’s male code for “back off.”

“Not at all. I want to be with Pearl . . .she just needs some time on her own and—”

“Ha! You’re just making excuses so that you can behave how you like without any thought for Pearl.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Elodie.”

She sneered at me. “I don’t know what you’re doing, juggling two women at once. Typical man behavior. As if male babies were born with a mean gene in them. You’re all the same—
all
of you. The only difference is, some hide it better than others but the bastard gene is buried into every man’s DNA.”