Intercepted (17 page)

That night I don
’
t move to
Dani
’
s bed. I stay in Jake
’
s arms, letting his scent intoxicate me. It
’
s permanently imprinted in my memory. Maybe if I
breathe it for a whole night it will last me after he
’
s gone.

Chapter 22:
Jake

I unlock my apartment and drop my bags by the door. The last few hours
disappear in a blur. When I woke up this morning a sense of absolute peace
filled me. I breathed it in and out. Natalia lay asleep in my arms, her warmth
and mine blended into one. Then consciousness drifted in and the rusted
darkness within me rose to the surface, erasing the last of the peace. My heart
fist punched my chest. I was sure she would wake from the pounding.

I detangled myself from her body, careful not to wake her, and picked up
my clothes in haste, driven by the desperation that possessed me. Gripping the
doorknob I paused one last time to take one last look. She was beautiful, a
mystical siren lost in her dreams. Her hair cascaded down her back in unruly
sable strands that brushed the sheet tangled at her waist. I knew I was being a
coward by running away like that. She would miss me when she woke. But the war
that exploded inside me could not be put into words.
What have you started?
I thought. And I needed to strip those feelings off like a bandage if I wanted
to keep the darkness locked.

There was no other way.

I sink into the couch watching the marine layer fog the floor to ceiling
windows of my apartment. This used to be my haven, my safe place. No women
here.

No past.

Just me.

But the unease gripping my chest won
’
t give. Natalia filtered in through the old scars
of my heart. Scars that have been there since I was eight years old.

An image of Natalia crying last night flashes in my mind and the fist in
my chest rattles.
You fucking prick. You are hollow, Jake. You pathetic
fuck.
I roam around the room like a caged animal, then turn the stereo up
loud. The Foo Fighters momentarily drown the silence that used to comfort me,
but they fail to drown the noise in my head.

I pour myself a scotch and down it. Another. Then another. By the fourth
one the hold in my chest is replaced by numbness. My phone rings persistently.
It
’
s the fourth time since I
’
ve landed, but I don
’
t bother. I know it
’
s Tamara, or one of the others.
The others
that pay the bills, asshole.
I don’
t
even check my messages. I pour myself another drink and welcome the numbness.

Bleaching morning light echoes against the stark white walls of my
apartment. I use to like the simplicity of it. Nothing to disturb the perfect
environment I exist in. Now it seems surgical. Calculated and cold.
Wasn
’
t that the point? To not feel?
I close my eyes and memories from Natalia bleed
into my mind in Scorsese-red. I force myself up and slip into shorts and
running shoes, then bolt into a run along the beach. The marine layer is thick,
moisture beading my face and bare torso as I push my muscles into exertion. My
head is still foggy from the alcohol and lack of food. I pass the Santa Monica
Pier, then Muscle Beach. It
’
s all bleak
at this early hour, the skeleton of a pulsing body that will later come to
life. Now it is only me and the piercing chant of the seagulls as they hover around
leftovers and rotting seaweed.

By the time I get back home I can
’
t think.
I simply exist. That
’
s what I love
about physical exercise. At some point exertion takes over the brain.

I shower and quickly scan through my messages as I wait for my coffee to
brew. Two from Tamara and two more from clients I booked for later this month.
They want to confirm trips, parties and all the events that normally fill my
life. Now having to follow through with the plans I made seems like a sentence.
I don
’
t really need the money anymore. I have saved
enough.
Then why do you do it, Jake?
Natalia
’s voice torments me.
Everyone deserves to be loved.

I open my laptop and dive into the list I made for the surf shop. I have
vendors to visit this month. I am momentarily distracted by the ideas I have
for the design and a flicker of excitement snaps somewhere inside my ribcage.
For the next two hours I get lost in the tasks that I need to accomplish to
make this dream happen.

The week comes and goes. I purposely fill every hour so I can keep a good
grip on my mind. Natalia still manages to trespass my thoughts. Alcohol is a
good antidote, and it makes the idea of the upcoming trips and time with my
clients more bearable.

Dillon calls me to tell me he
’
s going
back to Aspen to see Dani. He wants me to go with him, but I tell him I can
’
t.

I know that when Natalia sees Dillon show up alone it will hurt her. I
curse myself for hurting her even when I am not there to do it in person. Fuck
my obsession to prove myself wrong. That
’
s what
started all this. She wasn
’
t like the
others. I know that now. Natalia isn
’
t like
anyone.

Thursday I fly to New York to meet Tamara. She
’
s booked me for a quick trip until Sunday for
some events she needs to attend. She is now talking to some big wig from the
Museum of Modern Art. We are at a party in his penthouse overlooking Park
Avenue. I tune out of the conversation and sip my scotch. Tamara is a Pro. She
laughs at all the right moments. It
’
s all
staged. Thousands of dollars have been spent at this charity event to persuade
these people to in turn donate their money for a good cause. It
’
s all a circus where the animals scratch each
other
’
s back at the right angles.

Tamara turns to me and smiles. We are alone and she snakes her arm around
my waist. I don
’
t feel anything, as usual. But
smile back at her. She has paid for it.

“You look stunning in a tux, Jake. Do you want to go? I think I want to
have you all for myself now.”

I give her a brief nod, fighting the sudden urge to rip this monkey suit
off me and run to the airport.

Later that night I watch Manhattan from Tamara
’
s penthouse on the Upper West Side while she
sleeps. Tamara likes expensive things. Only the best. She can afford it as the
marketing head of a pharmaceutical company. In Tamara
’
s life, every minute is gold. That
’
s why her only relationship is one she pays for.
No time for complications or tangled emotions. Everything is more simple in
black and white.

The city lights glimmer in the distance and behind the thick glass of the
floor to ceiling window I feel like a caged animal.

Maybe it
’
s time for a
change.

I resent the thought. I used to feel like the luckiest bastard on earth.
Being flown around the world by wealthy women who paid my weight in gold just
to have me show up with them at a party. Well… maybe not
just
that. But
it
’
s never been only the money. All the while, being
able to keep my interactions with women at bay brought an incredible rush. I
’
d been dealt a shitty hand early in life and now
I was beating the game big time. As long as I was winning I was ahead at the
game that promised no stabs to the heart. No exchanges except for money and
pleasure. And I
’
ve always been good at winning.

Until now.

For the first time, I am out of my comfort zone. I feel the pull back to
Aspen. Back to that girl with untamed black hair and fierce green eyes. I know
there is hurt now in those eyes. I know because I put it there.
Bastard
.
I should get a medal.

I pour myself a scotch and down it, then lie down next to Tamara, who
’
s been asleep for a while now. I close my eyes
and feel the frost rise from within. I pull the covers over me, but they do
nothing to warm me up. I crave the warmth that enveloped Natalia. Tamara
’
s body is not warm like hers. I wonder why that
is.

In the morning we visit a few art galleries and Tamara buys a piece for
her home in the Hamptons. We have a party the day after tomorrow with some
moguls from her company
’s competition.

Another party.

We have lunch, then go back to her place. I fuck her with automated motion
and she can tell something
’
s up.

“What
’
s wrong?” she asks. Tamara
never asks any questions, so this throws me off.

“Nothing,” I say almost immediately. I curse myself for letting my
emotions slip. She accepts my lack of an answer the way she always does and
tells me she wants to go shopping.

We visit a few boutiques and I give her my opinion on the dresses she
tries on for the party. As the day advances dread and hollowness fill me. By
the time we are back at her penthouse it
’
s
unbearable.

“Let
’
s
order food in,
” she says as she
walks out of the shower. “
I don’
t feel
like going out.”

I stare through the window at the park below. My hands close into fists.
The grip on my chest tightens.

“Tamara.” I turn around to face her. “I need to go back to Santa Monica
tonight.”

She frowns. “What? Why?”

“There
’
s something urgent I need to
take care of.” I walk toward her and brush her face with the back of my hand.
“I
’
m sorry, Babe. Ryan is available to go to the
party, if you want.”

She watches me for a moment. I know she will like Ryan. We met at a party
a while back. He is new to the business and when I called him ten minutes ago
he jumped at the opportunity to go on a date with Tamara.

“Is everything alright, Jake?” For the second time today she attempts to
step into my personal world. I don
’
t like
it. That
’
s one of the reasons all my
clients are on the East Coast, as far as possible from my own life.

“Everything
’
s
fine.
”
I kiss her forehead.
“I have a flight booked from JFK in two hours.”

“Jake,” she says before can I turn around to pack
my bag. I have never walked out on a job before and Tamara is not the kind of
woman you walk out on. I expect some kind of a scene. But she just looks at me
with a strange emotion in her eyes. “You take care.”

Chapter 23:
Natalia

Dani and I go about our day as if Jake and Dillon never happened. Dani
acts the same way she always does, but I know better. She
’
s serene, reigned in from her usual explosive
self. She doesn
’
t talk much to the customers
either, doesn
’
t make jokes about them. No
snarky comments that make me laugh hard or gape in horror. Nothing. Just plain
’
ol Dani, if there
’
s such a thing.

She cares about Dillon.

I care about Jake.

We are two fools swimming in a pool of sweet memories that left a sour
taste.

She never mentions Dillon and I don
’
t ask.
But when I get up from the computer to go to bed one night, she walks out of
the bathroom and tugs me into a hug. We don
’
t say anything. We just hug. And I know she
’
s hurting.

On Friday the lounge is swarming with the after ski crowd. It
’
s all back to normal. Groups of guys flirting
with us and tucking their numbers into our pockets. Too-blonde girls with
perfect manicures, shaking the snowflakes off their expensive ski gear as they
walk in.

Dani, Zack and I are making bets on table seven. Who
’
s going home with whom. The tips are rolling
thick and it looks like a profitable evening for the three of us.

Dani and I wait at the bar while Zack fills our drink orders. She
’
s laughing at the scrap of paper she just pulled
from her pocket and reads it out loud ‘
Call me. I
’
ll be your slave for a night
.
’

“I
’
ll never understand these guys
’
hard-ons for waitresses.” I chuckle. Dani laughs
again, then her expression freezes as her eyes rise to the far entrance.

“Holy Shit,” she breathes.

My eyes follow her as she bolts in that direction, then I freeze, too.
Dillon drops a duffel bag by his side and extends his arms in welcome. A
megawatt smile stretches his mouth as Dani launches herself into his arms.

My heart stills and I hold my breath while my eyes scan the space around
him.

Empty.

I wait, and wait, and wait, and as the seconds fade, so does the spark of
hope I felt.

He
’
s not here.

I immediately feel like a fool. Hope was never something Jake offered me.
Zack must see the hurt in my expression because he gently squeezes my elbow and
gives me a half-smile.

“Ready,” he says, gesturing to the drinks on my tray. I nod and turn away
from Dani and Dillon and the sudden tornado of memories that just ravaged my
mind.

I don’
t
see Dani all weekend. She switched her days off with another girl and
disappeared with Dillon to the cabin he rented outside the property. I
’
m happy for her and it
’
s strange that her happiness also hurts. I shake
off the selfish thought, dreading the few weeks I have left at the resort. In
less than a month I
’
ll be in San
Diego starting the life I
’
ve been
crafting for myself all these years.

Minus one lying, cheating fiancée.

As soon as my shift ends I slip into my swimsuit and throw on sweats and
a long sleeve shirt under a robe. The night is below freezing and even though I
don
’
t feel like swimming I go anyway because the
alternatives are a washed-out poker game with the guys, or hanging out in my
room. Besides, I haven
’
t practiced
since Jake left. I already know that goddamn pool will remind me of him, but I
have three weeks to get my shit together, so I girl-up and go.

I make a slow journey along the hallway that leads to the pool. It
’
s past eleven and even from where I am I can see
it
’
s empty. The freezing weather has chased away the
regulars that swim laps.

As I push the door the whole area comes into view. My eyes instinctively
dart to the Jacuzzi.

That
’
s when I see him.

I am stunned, but my feet are making their way toward him like he
’
s a magnet and I
’
m a scrap of metal. I can
’
t stop. Part of me wants to. A very small part.
But I know I can
’
t.

He watches me approach with a guarded expression. He
’
s submerged all the way to his neck, then his
shoulders rise as I stop next to him. He never takes his eyes away from me.

God, he
’s beautiful.

His hair is still dry, a ruffled mess in perfect disarray. I curl my
fingers inside the pockets of my robe and let the silence between us thicken.

“How
’
s the swimming coming?” He says
it as if he
’
s just left me on my own to
practice for ten minutes and is now coming back to check. I strangle all the
emotions that raise from my chest and keep my expression stoic.

“Why are you here?” I mutter. It
’
s almost
a whisper. I don
’
t care why he
’
s here. He came back.

“I can
’
t stay away,” he says matter of
factly. His mouth is grim, as if the words burned on their way out, but his
eyes are full of everything.

“Natalia.”

I close my eyes and hang my head as the sound travels through every
single part of me. I hear him raise from the water, but keep my eyes closed.
His feet pad on the wet tiles and even though I can
’
t see him, I feel the heat that radiates from
him. It
’
s almost unbearable.

He has to be fucking freezing, but he ignores it and wraps his arms
around me in a death grip. Everything inside me tenses and comes to a halt. I
’
m in a sensory overload. His smell, his heat, the
wet skin of his chest against my chilled face.

I don’
t
move. I can
’
t.

“God, I
’
ve missed you. Can we talk
inside?” he says in a low voice.

The words are stuck in my throat, so I nod. When he withdraws, the arctic
air slaps me. It
’
s a warning, I think. Because I
know whatever this is, it
’
s going to
hurt later.

He shrugs his robe on and I follow him to the villa he rented. Our hands
hang close but we don
’t touch. It’
s
hard enough to be this close to him.

He lets me in, then closes the door and reaches for my hand. The static
between our fingers sizzles and I pull mine away. He curls his fingers in and
lets out a small sigh. He then sits on the couch, extending his hand in an invitation.
I look at his hand for a long moment. This is my last chance to run. I
’
m entitled to it after the way he left the last
time.

But I don’
t.

I sit on the corner of the couch as far away from him as possible. He
nods once like he understands.

“Why did you leave like that Jake?” The words are out before I realize.
He winces as if I just slapped him.

“This... You... I don
’
t know how to
do this.”

“
Then don
’
t. Why keep coming back?” I say
acidly.

He nods, then those eyes meet mine. My fortress crumbles at the corner.

“I can
’
t stay away. “

“Then what?”

His eyebrows meet. He looks as if I just asked him to tell me what the
weather is in Mars.

“
I don’
t know, Natalia. I just...
I needed to see you.”

The way he says that,
needed
,
rips the stitches in my still fresh wound.

“Jake, I can
’
t. I
’m sorry. I just... Can’
t.” I stand and head for the door. He beats me to
it and presses his palm against it from behind me.

“Please. Don
’
t.”

He
’
s so close. A force of
radiating heat that sticks to me and pulls. I keep my eyes on his splayed
fingers still on the door.

“Jake.”

His lips are on my neck and the heat, with that familiar masculine smell
and the chill running down my back and arms are suddenly too much. His arms
snake around me and he presses my back against his chest, his mouth and nose
buried in my hair.

“Please,” he whispers. I wrap my hands around his, still gripping me and
he makes a guttural sound of relief. He unwraps himself from me so quickly it
feels like a whiplash, then presses me against him with the same force. My
fingers find his hair and our mouths are gasping as we steal each other
’
s breaths. It
’
s not romantic, sweet, or tender. It
’
s desperate, the quenching of a need that
unleashes simultaneously inside both of us.

He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me into the main
room, then lowers me onto the dining table, pushing my legs apart as he pulls
off my shirt, then my sweatpants with my swimsuit and my Ugg boots. I hear them
meet the floor with a Thud. As certain as what
’
s about to happen between us.

He fucks me on the table, then we move to the couch where I sit astride
him and take charge. It
’
s a battle of
wills against each other and against our own inner selves urging us away from
another bad decision.

We eventually make it to the bed. The animal rage has faded and there
’
s only the two of us left. Jake makes love to me
and I let him. I kiss him with abandon and with all the turmoil that stirs
inside me.

Afterwards I watch him sleep, the fear inside me pulsing under a cloud of
fog. I know I can
’
t give myself to this man, but
I also can
’
t deny the inevitability of
what his presence does to me. He came back. He said he can
’
t stay away. Could things have changed for him?

On the nightstand the light of his cell phone goes on. He doesn
’
t stir. I watch the lit screen from my side. It
stays on for several seconds, taunting me. A text at two a.m.. Morbid curiosity
digs its claws into me and before I know it I slip out of the bed and walk
around to his side. The text is still on his lit screen. A blade pierces my
chest and finds my heart as I read it.

‘I can
’
t wait
till next weekend, Babe. Don
’
t forget your
swim suit. X. Rachel.
’