I picked up the phone and called security, sitting down behind my desk to give my trembling legs a rest. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never been so aggressive, so ready to fight. For twenty-three years I’d have backed down from him, from that whore on the street. Now I can’t even stop myself sometimes. What’s happening to me? Is it New York, its violent influence finally settling on me like the hand of fate?

Or is it Langdon, finally pushing me forward like the hand of love?

“Sheryl?” I looked up to see John standing in the doorway of my little office. I dropped the phone and ran into his arms. “Sheryl, what’s wrong?”

I looked slowly up at him. “You didn’t pass Flynn on the way here? You didn’t hear from security?”

“Security? Flynn? No, what happened?”

I caught my breath, easing myself out of his arms. “It’s… it’s just that… he’s got this office crush on me, I guess, and I finally had to put an end to it.”

John looked at me, slow and shrewd. “He didn’t take it well.” I shook my head. “I’ll call H.R., have him pink-slipped, tell security to keep him out of the building.”

That certainly made me feel better, and being in John Alister’s powerful arms was comforting. It was also rekindling feelings I’d indulged before meeting Langdon.

Langdon!

I eased myself out of John’s arms and sat back down behind my desk to compose myself. “Was there something you needed, Mr. Alister?”

“I was interested in your thoughts on our meeting today with Langdon Cane. You seem to have struck up a certain… chemistry with him. So what do you think? Is he on the level?”

I wasn’t sure if he was, but I was also beginning to have serious doubts about whether John himself was being honest and forthright about his intentions.

“You seem to know him… fairly well on your own.  You’ve met, I assume?”

John flinched as he paced around my little office.  “Seen each other on and off, various gatherings, auctions, things like that.  Met him about ten years ago when he was just coming into his own, the Golden Boy of High Finance.  My Lori thought he was really something, I’ll tell ya.”

“Bailey’s mother.”

“She told me, ‘You watch out for that guy.  One day, he’s gonna come gunnin’ for you.’  Well, she was right about everything else.”

“But this time, all this… it was your idea, wasn’t it?  You invited him here, didn’t you?”

John Alister looked me over with a flat-lipped expression, eyes steady, revealing little of what he was thinking.  But what they were revealing sent a shiver down my spine.

“I think maybe the idea took him a little off-guard,” I said, clinging to what shreds of the truth might sustain me through the conversation. “I don’t suppose I blame him.”

John sat down on the side of my desk and leaned toward me. “And I don’t blame either one of you. But I didn’t get to where I am by playing by the rules, Sheryl. Can I be honest with you a moment?”

“I thought you always were.”

He smiled. “I meant frank. Of course I’ve always been honest with you, and I always will be. But frankly, Sheryl, I think you’re capable of a lot more than just being my personal assistant.”

My heart rose in my chest to hear it, but I knew I had to remain skeptical. Nothing was as it seemed; that was the only thing I knew for sure.

“I knew it last year, but you needed time, seasoning, experience in the field before I could confidently promote you. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Oh, um, of course, sir. I thought of myself as lucky to get the job with you at all.”

“And you were, Sheryl, you definitely were. But you’d also earned it, and in the year since you’ve earned a lot more. And this, this is the crucible, this is the ultimate test.”

I didn’t like where the conversation was going, but steering it wasn’t going to be easy. “What do you need me to do?”

“Atta girl,” he said, inching almost imperceptibly toward me, arm reaching out to set a hand on my arm. “You just stick close to him, let me know if he comes to you with, y’know, any offers.”

Any offers, I silently repeated. He already came this close to offering me a job, though I can’t really say that he actually did, and he’s made no mention of it since, so…

“Okay, Mr. Alister, I can do that, sure.”

“It’s simple professional ethics, Sheryl. If he’s trying to turn you into a corporate spy, I think it’s your duty to be loyal to the home team.”

“Um, right, absolutely.”

“We’re an American company, Sheryl, born and bred, raised and reared. We hire American, we buy American, we sell American. Our factories are all in America, Sheryl, and the people who run those factories are Americans. But AussieGarb? Look, I don’t blame you for not looking into it; that’s not your job. I’ve got guys whose job it is, smartest guys in the world. My God, add up their IQs, they gotta be over a hundred.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

John went on, “And let me tell you what they told me. Chinese kids stitch every shred of AussieGarb clothing, work sixteen hours a day for ten cents a week, Sheryl. They’re forced to work as sex slaves in their off hours. And the clothes fall apart after just a few weeks. That’s how they make so much money. But their profile is so high in that British prison they call a country, people just can’t stop buying the stuff up. And there’s something else I don’t blame you for, Sheryl; mostly, it comes down to Langdon Cane himself.”

I knew what he meant when he said he didn’t blame me for that. I knew he was recalling the glance Langdon and I had shared during the meeting, regarding Langdon’s satisfaction with his visit so far. Instead of saying anything, I took the smarter approach and said nothing at all.

“Hey, he’s charming,” John said, “I get it. Paparazzi always following him around, segments on that new Lifestyles channel or whatever the hell it is…”

Of course, I thought to myself with a sudden revelation, that’s where I’d seen him before. He’s been profiled as a jet-set celebrity. That dream was no prediction, no supernatural experience, it was just a memory of—

“Sheryl!” I shook my head to snap out of it. “Earth to Sheryl.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Alister, I… I’ve just been busy lately, not sleeping as much as I should.”

“So I imagine.” He glared at me, long and cold. “But I need you to keep your head in the game, Sheryl. I’m counting on you.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Alister,” I said with a nod and a wink, “I won’t let you down.”

One corner of his mouth curled into his cheek. “I know you won’t, Sheryl. I know you won’t.”

***

As I walked out of my office, I was grateful that John was letting me take the town car back to Brooklyn and hold onto it while Langdon was in the city. I was hating the subway more and more every day, and just thinking about not having to be on it gave me a warm feeling. I couldn’t help thinking about Langdon, and John, and their fabulous lifestyles. Men like that never had to ride the subways, I knew, though Langdon probably would do it just for fun. They certainly didn’t do it twice a day because they had to, as part of the drudgery of their lives.

But I did.

I didn’t like to think of myself as a gold digger. In fact, I’d gone out of my way not to be one. I hadn’t come to New York for that. Still, seeing women like those prostitutes did more than offend me. It reminded me how close we all are to peddling ourselves in one way or another for one thing or another.

But I didn’t like riding that train, pushing through the bowels of the city, which smelled every bit the part. More staring passengers slowly being ground down, every inch of their commute chipping away at them from the inside until there was nothing left but an empty shell.

Is that me in ten years, I often had to ask myself, or five, or three?

As I rode the elevator down to the subterranean parking lot under the building, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Langdon, our previous encounter, and our next adventure. I started picturing exotic locations, pure white-sand beaches, palm trees and gulls calling in the distance.

Don’t do that, I admonished myself, don’t be ridiculous. A man like Langdon Cane can have any woman he wants. Why would he settle for some wannabe-designer secretary? He’s having his fun like all wealthy and powerful men do, and at least he’s handsome and charming and everybody wins. Don’t think it’s more than that, just enjoy it for what it is. Anything else is just a pipe dream, and dreams like that just don’t come true.

But that had never been my way. I’d always wanted to fall in love with the boys I was with, even convinced myself once or twice that I was in love when I wasn’t. I wasn’t used to falling into bed with men the way I did with Langdon, though I certainly didn’t regret it. But it came with certain expectations on my part. That was something I was responsible for, but not something I could change.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted those expectations to be fulfilled—and to inspire even greater expectations. It was more than just Langdon’s money. He had a charisma I’d never encountered before, even more so than John Alister. It was a different kind of charm. John was all class and sophistication, but Langdon was freewheeling, loose and funny, and more youthful. John Alister may have appealed to the part of me that longed for a strong authoritarian type, but Langdon appealed to the mischievous part of me, the wild side I’d never allowed myself to take seriously. But I couldn’t deny it existed. That had definitely been me playing with myself in public to bewitch that dimwitted frat boy in the airport terminal. That was me fucking Langdon like crazy only a few hours after we had met.

I was learning more and more about myself by the minute, it seemed, and although it was a little troubling, it was also pretty intriguing.

Gotta talk to Ricardo about this. He’ll go nuts!

The elevator doors slid open and I stepped out into the quiet parking lot. I’d had to park in the back of the first level because the spots nearest to the elevator which were usually reserved for executive parking were being re-tarred. The stink was thick and oppressive, but it was only one of many the big city had to offer, and nearly two years in Brooklyn had trained me to push through such annoyances.

Someday, I told myself, before my more skeptical, practical self brought me back down to Earth. Well, I argued with her, at least I’m driving the company town car and not riding the subway. And John said I was up for a promotion! That means the year hasn’t been a total waste, that I really have been working toward something, something real and positive.

Yeah, my inner voice responded, you keep believing that, you keep trusting John Alister. Good luck with that.

My heels clacked against the concrete, echoing around the thick pillars supporting the low ceilings in the vast parking lot. I thought I heard a second set of footsteps and I stopped to look around, but the sounds of both sets of footsteps stopped with me. I looked around but saw nobody else in the lot. My heart skipped a beat but then resumed a steady rhythm as my rational mind mocked me.

Don’t be ridiculous, I had to tell myself, keep walking. C’mon, genius, you remember: left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

I chuckled at myself and walked on, even though the hairs were rising on the back of my neck. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I wasn’t alone in that parking garage. I walked a bit faster. The lines of cars on either side of me provided cover for any number of assailants, and my imagination didn’t hesitate to start at the top and then go down the list of possible suspects.

Flynn’s pretty upset at me, and he’s not far off. He could have followed me down here, be stalking me, ready to take his revenge.

I walked faster yet. What sounded like a dull thunk grabbed my attention. It had been close, maybe too close. But another look around revealed nothing and nobody except a frightened woman in a parking garage. I turned and walked on at an even brisker clip.

That artist Hellacious P. looked like he wanted to kill me too, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to find my name after he saw me with Langdon. A few phone calls could connect the dots. And I’m a much softer target than Langdon is. Killing me would be a good way to get back at him for destroying something precious and fragile.

I pulled my lips tight over my teeth. Bring it on, Hal, I silently challenged him, I’m not as precious or fragile as your piece-of-shit sculpture.

But I knew Hellacious P. wasn’t the last one on the list, and that some of the others would come at me with a lot more muscle. That frat jerk from the airport? That murderous Lisa Ling? I was suddenly struck with the realization that I’d never followed up with John about her, about whether she was still in custody. He’d been so insistent that it not be discussed, so secretive about where he was disappearing to during the days—and with whom—that I hadn’t thought to push the issue.

But if she’s out there, she could definitely be on the warpath, and she’d know just where to find me. And then there’s Margaret Alister herself, with enough money to hire any number of thugs to come down on me at just about any time.

A cat screeched behind me. I stopped and spun around in a flash, once again seeing nothing out of the ordinary. My heart was racing in my chest. I took a long, slow look around the garage before turning to run the last few yards to the town car.

I approached the driver’s door with the keys already in my fist, peering into the backseat just in case. Seeing that it was empty, I tried to put the key into the lock, but I was so nervous that the keychain fell out of my hand. I bent down to pick it up, glancing around as I managed to shove the car key into the lock and pull the car door open.

Only once I closed and locked the door did I feel more at ease. I took a few deep breaths and collected myself before turning the engine over.

It didn’t make me feel any better knowing that another parking lot just like this was waiting for me back in Brooklyn—if I was lucky enough to find a spot.

***

My folks leaned into their laptop, always looking at the screen and never into the camera at the top of the monitor. I kept telling them not to, but whenever we Skyped I always felt like they were talking to my belly button. My dad opened up with, “Lookin’ good, honey!” Aging with a friendly smile and graying brown hair, he always looked to me like Oregon in the autumn.

“Patrick, please.” My mother rolled her eyes. I had inherited her blonde hair and blue eyes—and, I was beginning to realize, just a bit of her temper as well. “How’s your holiday season this year, dear?”

I didn’t even want to get into it, but of course I wasn’t going to lie to my parents either. The truth was an easy enough fix. “Busy as usual. How are you both? What’s happening in Eugene?”

“We’re fine,” my dad said, turning to my mom. “Erin, why don’t you tell her what happened at the store yesterday?”

My mom explained to my belly button, “I bumped into Carla Scratner down at the Holt Center, and she said that her boy Matthew had been asking about you lately, wondering if you were going to stay in New York.”

Matt Scratner, I thought to myself.

“He’s as handsome as ever,” my mom added.

My father leaned in toward the laptop monitor. “Father still owns the A-Boy downtown. I know Matty’s going to be taking over soon.”

“It’s not glamorous,” my mom said, “but it’s very stable. And at least you wouldn’t be plagued by rats the size of beagle dogs, for heaven’s sake.”

“Mom, it’s not that bad here, really.”

“And what makes you think it’s so bad here?”

It was something I could never really explain to my parents—my need to strike out on my own, to make something of my life, to get the most out of my time on Earth and leave my mark, not just live and die in some dreary college town the way they were content to do.

Not knowing how to say that without insulting them always made me hold my tongue. And I really didn’t want to go into the details of my tryst with Langdon. Lord knows what they’d make of that!

So I said simply, “I’m sure Matty will find himself a great girl there in Eugene.” I actually wasn’t sure of it, but I was sure that I was never going to be Mrs. Matty Scratner.

My father shrugged. “Well, if that’s how you feel, I’m sure he’ll be very disappointed.”

“Are you sure, dear? Men like Matt Scratner don’t come around like buses, y’know… or subway cars.” I forced a smile, and my mother went on. “We know you had big dreams about New York, and you know we only want for you to be happy. But… painful as it is to say, more often than not in this world, dear, dreams like that just don’t come true.”