Preservation (20 page)

“Oh, so Ryan knows him?”

“Yes, but now he doesn’t trust him around me.”

“Ah, yes. The apartment incident. I heard about this.”

“Dean and Carter,” we both chimed in unison, me shaking my head in understanding.

“And I haven’t mentioned that I’ve noticed Mark’s wandering eyes, because I don’t want to give him any more of a reason to jump to conclusions, you know?”

“
Hhhmm
,” Crystal scrunched her nose, “this Mark sounds a bit two-faced.”

Placing the remaining triangles of my sandwich into two little squares, I shook my head and scooted back in the booth, taking a deep breath. “He’s very fake, in my opinion. And now Ryan set me up with another publisher and expects me to dump Mark, just to appease him.”

“Okay, so if Ryan doesn’t trust him and you think he’s flirtatious yourself, why do you still want to work with him? Do you really want an agent who is going to make you uncomfortable?”

“That’s just it, I see it as a business thing. I’m already invested, supposed to sign the contract tonight. The way I see it, I couldn’t care less if Mark is interested in me because I would never take his shit. My focus is on signing a deal with this publisher he has lined up, on the career opportunity. The rest is irrelevant in my book. I think Ryan’s blowing it out of proportion.”

Crystal gently nodded, her eyes moving to the salt and pepper shakers to the side of the table.

“Would you cancel if Dean was jealous?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, bringing her eyes back to mine. “This is your career and you don’t want Ryan meddling just because he’s jealous. But it doesn’t sound like he’s trying to control you; it sounds like it’s genuinely important to him for some reason. If he went out of his way to set you up with another publisher over this, it really matters to him—whether he’s blowing it out of proportion or not.”

“Crap,” I let out a breath, dropping my head in my hands. “That’s what I think, too. It’s just...” I picked up my spoon and fished it around in my soup bowl, unsure of how to verbalize the conflict I’d felt brewing all week.

“What is it?”

“Since I’ve met Ryan, everything I told myself I would never do, I find myself doing. It’s not that I mean to be inconsiderate of his feelings, but I feel like he’s interfering with...the way I live my life. And this canceling-with-Mark thing is just too much. ”

“You’re set in your ways,” Crystal said matter-of-factly.

“Very,” I chuckled, relief in my voice. Relief that this girl, who I barely knew, understood what I was going through. And that she could relate to where I was coming from.
The gift of perception.
“I want to manage my life and be self-sufficient, and Ryan’s already responsible for setting me up with Mark.”

“You feel like Ryan’s encroaching on your independence.”

“Very much so, yeah.”

“Well, you’re asking me if I’d cancel. But you didn’t cancel, you just told Ryan you did. So, what you’re really asking me is whether or not I think you’re doing the right thing by lying and going anyway.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I think if your instinct tells you that sticking with Mark would be a good business decision, then go. Hopefully Ryan will come to his senses and support your decision. ”

Instinct.
Well, instinct is a funny thing. And it had been a real pain in the ass lately.

***

At four o’clock, I rushed home and took a quick shower, careful to select a dress with a fair amount of coverage. Settling on a little black number and a pair of burgundy suede heels, I grabbed my peacoat and made my way out the door, leaving a note on the counter for Ryan. He’d be home by seven, and hopefully by the time I got home, he’d have a few hours to calm down and think things through. And forgive me.

17. DODGE BALL

The Westin ballroom was beautiful, all decked out and full of the who’s who of the publishing world. Mark spotted me from across the room and gave me an eager wave, a tall debonair man with black wavy hair next to him. Following suit, the man lifted his glass in my direction and smiled, stepping forward with Mark to meet me near the foyer. Mustering all of my bravery, I offered my hand when the men approached me.

“Eric, I presume?” I smiled at Mark’s partner, shaking his hand.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure. Kate, you look stunning. Mark’s told me so much about you,” he shook my hand and winked. He was built, strong, and seemed well composed, but the liquor on his breath made me wonder how he managed to appear so in control. I was nearly suffering a hangover just breathing in his scent. Mark smelled of whiskey, too, but he didn’t seem quite as loaded as his friend.

“Ah, good things, I hope,” I gripped my handbag, looking for the nearest table to sit down.

“Here you go, Kate. I hope white is okay,” Mark handed me a glass of wine and glanced around. I accepted gratefully, making a mental to note to call them a cab after dinner if they weren’t staying in the hotel. “So, is everything okay...er...did you come with a date?”

“Oh,” I blushed, glancing down. “No, he’s not coming, Mark. Again, I’m very sorry about...everything. I can’t tell you how appreciative I am that you agreed to see me again.”

Visibly relaxing, Mark flagged a waiter and took another drink from a tray, tilting his head to the far end of the room. “Let’s sit, shall we? And it’s certainly my pleasure. I hope whatever was going on with Ryan worked itself out. He always was a bit of a loose cannon.”

The three of us took seats at a large, round dinner table dressed with silk ivory linens, the other guests acknowledging us briefly as we settled in our chairs. Servers flitted around us like hummingbirds, quick and nearly invisible as they swapped out salad dishes and fresh glasses of wine. Dinner lagged as Eric chatted with a couple next to him, and Mark stepped away from the table every few minutes to take phone calls. They both seemed to slow down a bit on the alcohol intake, thankfully. I picked at some bread intermittently, aware I’d need more in my stomach at the rate they were passing me wine. I started to feel a bit of a buzz, a weak haze washing over me when I set the butter down. “Whoa,” I mumbled to myself, standing and picking up my clutch.

Mark motioned for me to wait as he stepped out to answer yet another call, and Eric cut off his conversation with the couple next to him and turned to face me.

“Kate, are you feeling all right? You look a little pale.”

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I’m just going to step out to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, certainly. When you get back, we can get down to business.”

“Sounds good.” I nodded and slipped away from the table, then headed to the restroom. I sipped on a glass of water on the way, thankful for the refreshing liquid as it cooled my throat. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my vision blurred for a moment, effectively throwing off my equilibrium.
Shit. Maybe I’m really dehydrated.
Reaching for my phone, I was relieved to see no text messages or voicemails from Ryan yet. Thank God Eric said we could get down to business when I returned, because I was ready for the evening to be over. The guilt of lying to Ryan was starting to eat away at me, and I suddenly found myself backtracking and rethinking each thought that led me to make this decision.
Oh well. Too late to do anything about it.

The relief I’d felt after drinking some water vanished, a mass attack of hot flashes hitting me full speed when I returned to the table.

“Ah, there she is,” Eric said, standing to pull out my seat. “Shall we talk about your novel, now, Kate?”

“Yes,” Mark said. “That is, if you’re feeling up to it. Eric mentioned you looked a little pale, how are you feeling?” He leaned over and helped scoot my chair in further, briefly resting his hand on the back of my neck. Goose bumps sprang up in his wake.

“That’d be great. I think I’m going to take off soon, I’m not feeling so hot...”

“Here, perhaps some water will help?” Eric slid a glass of ice water toward me, he and Mark watching patiently as I took a few sips.

“Thank you, much better.” I placed the glass down and crossed my legs. “So, Eric, Mark tells me you have a bit of a different perspective on how to market my work?”

“I do, I do.” Eric eyed his watch and glanced at Mark. “Actually, I have the contract and some notes about your manuscript in my briefcase. How about we head to the lobby and go over everything over a few drinks? I’m not having any dessert, are you?” He looked to me, then to Mark. We both shook our heads and followed Eric’s lead, standing to exit. A head rush welcomed me as I straightened out my knees and I reached for the table.

“Whoa, Kate. Are you all right, sweetheart?” Mark slipped his arm around my waist and Eric rushed to my other side, both of them slowly escorting me out of the ballroom.

“I hope I’m not coming down with anything,” I whispered, gripping my clutch tightly, feeling more and more disoriented by the second.
Maybe I should call Ryan to pick me up. I’ll worry about his wrath when I feel better.

We reached the lobby and I glanced over my shoulder as Mark and Eric led me past it, still on each side of me, guiding me by the elbows.

“Oh, aren’t we stopping here in the lobby?” The hotel’s warm lighting bounced off the chandelier above me and I winced, sensitive to the sharp reflections. When I opened my eyes, I saw double.
Holy hell, what’s happening to me?
Panic started to take over my senses; my palms sweating, my knees trembling.

“Yes, we’ll come right back,” Eric said, leading me to the far end of the foyer. “I left my briefcase in my room, so we’ll make a quick pit stop.” We stepped into the elevator and I started to sway, gripping Mark’s shoulder as I faltered to the left.
Holy shit, did I eat something...drink something...

“Easy there, Kate,” he said, sliding his cold hand up my dress, grabbing my ass. “We’ll make this quick.”

Oh fuck.

Another hot flash rolled over me as I groaned, and recognition hit. The familiar helplessness that accompanied being taken advantage of; visions of my early teen years unfolding around me, a swamp of memories, moist and suffocating. The dizziness was beginning, and in seconds, I’d have no control. “Ah, no...no I’m leaving,” I mumbled reaching for the elevator door, ready to bolt as soon as it opened. Eric’s hand snatched my elbow and lassoed me back, his grip firm.

“You’re not well, Kate, you should relax,” he leaned in and brushed his nose in my hair, his hot breath on my earlobe. I cringed at the smell of hard whiskey mixed with something sweet.

The elevator’s ding sound announced our arrival. The doors slid open, and Mark and Eric immediately pushed me into the empty hallway.

“Stop,” I pulled away from them, dizziness and hot flashes swallowing me up, sending me toppling over onto the wall.
Ryan, oh God, Ryan. Shit, my phone...
“Get off me, I have to...” my words began to slur and my vision worsened as I attempted to reach for my phone in my purse. Mark slipped his key into a hotel room door and Eric stuffed my clutch in his suit jacket.

“Don’t fight it honey,” Mark’s voice sounded like an echo now, each word multiplying and vibrating into a thousand syllables. They led me into the room and Eric locked the door behind him, taking me by the small of the back and leading me to the bed.
What have I done?

“Now, we have this contract for you to sign here, but we’re not quite convinced you’re committed to this deal, Kate.” Mark loosened his tie and reached for the mini-bar, gesturing to Eric to hold me down on the edge of the bed.

“I said get off, get off, get off...” I wiggled from his grasp but he slid next to me, wrenching my arms behind my back.

“See, marketing your work is going to be very challenging,” Mark continued, returning with more whiskey. “And we need to know you’re going to cooperate, that you’re willing to do whatever is necessary to keep us happy.”

“So what can you do for us, Kate?” Eric leaned in and grazed my breast. I flinched, letting my head roll to the side of my shoulder, spitting fast in his face. I wanted to scream for help, wanted to cry out, but my voice was weak, my body sagging, growing lifeless. I struggled to keep my eyes open, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Eric let out a deep, filthy laugh. “You did say she was feisty, my friend. I like that.” He yanked on my wrists, wrenching my arms tighter behind my back. “And she does have a
fantastic
rack,” he reached for my breast again.

“Enough of the bullshit, she’s fading fast. Come on, unzip her dress.” Mark’s voice turned low and urgent. My eyelids began to droop and I felt him come up in front of me and open my legs, heard the sound of his belt buckle opening. I let my weight pull me backward, flopping onto the bed behind me, no longer able to hold myself upright. Eric scooted up next to me, his slick fingers brushing against my shoulders, pulling my bra straps down before moving to my dress zipper. Their husky voices began to fade, farther and farther, a soft thumping interrupting their distant chatter. Doorknobs turning. Footsteps thumping. Shouting. Rustling. Cracking. Breaking. Then I saw nothing at all. Only darkness.