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Dad had been insistent on taking precautions like that. He was adamant that I make sure I have cash on me for things like emergency rides or food, and often when I was walking out of the door, he would shove a ten or a twenty in my hand, just in case. He had grown up poor, much poorer than we ever were for sure, and had found himself in lots of situations where he could have used money to save himself a lot of grief.
He always made sure that was never a problem for me.
As I got off the bus, my mind was still with him, and the somewhat mysterious way he died. I knew the rumors, but I didn’t want to believe them. No one would put a hit on Dad. He was liked by everybody. It just didn’t make sense.
It was getting pretty chilly seasonally, but today was an unusually warm day, and I found myself not needing the extra jacket I had in my duffel bag. The long-sleeves were doing the job just fine. I dipped inside a nail salon with a desire I hadn’t had in years.
The ladies at the salon had been there since I was little, and I remembered going there with my mom and sister before weddings and special events all throughout my life. Still, we weren’t the type to often spring for manicures, not on the shoestring budget we often operated on, and Lena and I were usually each other’s manicurist.
Pampering myself with fresh cut and polished nails was something that I felt like was not only for me. It was for where things were going with Hunter.
We had been moving slowly, perhaps too slowly, and stealing kisses and gropes when we could. But soon, things were going to go somewhere. Where, I wasn’t sure. But somewhere.
When we got to that place, I wanted to lookgood.
That night, I had dreams. Intense, passionate dreams. Dreams where my fingers, newly painted and polished in purple, pressed against Hunter’s chest as I rode on top of him. Where I kissed him, and he kissed me back, while his arms cradled my naked body, holding me in place while he dominated me. Where I woke up, sweat on my sheets, a cry in my throat, and my core sensitive to the touch and throbbing.
I got ready the next morning, sure something was going to happen that day. He was going to see my nails and know that I did that thinking of him. It would be our own little silent communication.
But when I got to work, confidently striding in purple heels and the bracelet he noticed at the bar, I was met with a cold, empty wave.
“Julia, there is a lot to do today. Please make sure you field the calls to my office and only send anything through if it’s of vital importance.”
“Uh, sure,” I said.
“That will be all,” he said.
He didn’t even look at me. He didn’t even notice.
Gritting my teeth and hating the tears that were staining the corners of my eyes, I marched back into the tiny office and sat down at the desk. Perhaps he was just stressed. I knew the Asian expansion was incredibly important for the company and required a lot of work, but his coldness was jarring.
Bobby Cleveland came into the office several times over the day. I didn’t bother to sweep in and do my usual coffee runs or anything when he did, electing instead to have coffee delivered. It was less personal than me bringing it to him, but it kept me from having to leave the office, and kept him from having to ask for it or go get it himself.
As the day came to a close, he hadn’t spoken to me directly the entire time. I opened my office door, intent on breaking the silence, when he stood. He grabbed his coat and put it on silently before turning to me.
“I have to go downtown,” he said. “Client wants to meet for dinner. Please make sure you mark it in my calendar, with the name “Anderson.” I’ll have my driver take you home. He will be here in two minutes.”
“Okay,” I said, my heart hurting and yet my mind bewildered at the same time. “Did I do something?”
He paused, only momentarily, still getting one of his muscular arms in his coat. Then he shook his head. “I need to focus on some very important things right now, Julia. You understand.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. I understood.
I didn’t even get to nod before he was out of the door and heading downstairs. I waited for a moment, unsure what to do. He said his driver would take me home, but frankly, I just wanted to use the bus and run home again. I didn’t want his charity.
But it was intensely cold, and the crime rate had been spiking in the last few weeks. Every day there was a new violent crime in the blocks around the pub.
I went into the tiny office and changed clothes there, since no one else was anywhere nearby, then made my way downstairs to the parking lot. Sure enough, the Lincoln that Hunter sometimes rode in but never drove, pulled up to the door. A window lowered in the passenger’s seat, and I saw the cheerful face of his driver.
“Miss Julia?” he asked. “Mr. Erickson said you needed a ride for the next couple of days. Where do you live?”
“The next couple of days?” I asked, sliding inside the car.
He shrugged.
“That’s what he said,” he said. “I don’t believe we were ever formally introduced. I’m Wade.”
“Hi, Wade, I’m Julia,” I said.
