Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue (10 page)

“What do you think I’m saying?
 
Somebody has been here.”

“Big deal?
 
It could have been Celina and her new man.”

She hadn’t thought of that.
 
“Maybe.”
 

“Would you please just open that bottle of champagne?
 
I’m thirsty.”

She crossed to where he was sitting and turned on the lamp beside him.
 
Eric winced and brought up a hand to shield his eyes. “I think you’d better pass on the champagne,” Leana said.
 
“You look like hell.”

“I feel like heaven.”

“Wait till tomorrow.”

She went to the windows that were behind her.
 
In the city’s deep glow, sleek black skyscrapers loomed dark against the sky.
 
Eric settled further into his seat.

“You know something, Leana?” he said.
 
“You really are beautiful.”

“You know something, Eric?
 
You really are drunk.”

“You know what my favorite memory of you is?”

She looked at his reflection in the window.
 
“No.”

“You were fifteen years old, I had known you for maybe five months and you told me that you and your best friend at the time--what was her name?
 
Asia Something--were planning on attending Christmas Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in the nude.
 
Wearing long jackets, of course.”

She turned away from the windows.
 
“Her name is Asia Ward,” she said, smiling.
 
“And we’re still friends.
 
But cut me some slack.
 
That’s
your favorite memory of me?
 
If it is, I’m more fucked up than I thought I was.”

“It’s one of them,” Eric said.
 
“I can still remember you and Asia sitting between George and Elizabeth, red-faced, trying not to laugh, giving me the eye when no one else was looking.
 
I remember thinking that Celina would never do this, and it was then that I knew you and I would become friends.”

Leana popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and brought the bottle to her lips. As she drank, she became aware that Eric was looking at her intently.
 
“I have a favorite memory of you," she said.

“And what’s that?”

“Do you remember all the letters you wrote to me while I was at school in Switzerland?”

He nodded.

“I was strung out on coke then and you knew.
 
I’ve never asked you how you knew.”

Eric hesitated, his mind fogged by the alcohol, but then he remembered and explained.
 
“That week Celina and I visited?
 
I needed a pen for something and found, in your desk drawer, beneath a pile of papers, a half-empty vial of coke.”

Leana closed her eyes.
 
“And you never told anyone,” she said.
 
“Not Celina.
 
Not Mom or Dad.
 
You decided to let me handle the problem on my own--which I couldn’t. But you had faith in me that I could.
 
All those letters you wrote, encouraging me, letting me know that you were there if I ever needed someone to talk to, did I ever thank you for them?
 
And for keeping my problem to yourself?”

“I’m sure you must have.”

Leana smiled. “You’re being kind.
 
I was so screwed up, I’m sure I didn’t.
 
But I will now.
 
It’s what we addicts are supposed to do.
 
Thank you, Eric.
 
Thanks for believing in me when no one else did.”

She folded her arms and turned back to the windows.
 
In the reflection of the glass, she watched Eric stand, uncertainly at first, but with greater control as he removed his dinner jacket and flung it over the back of the chair.

Soon he was standing behind her, running his fingers through her hair, brushing his lips against her bare shoulder.
 
Although she knew what was happening was wrong, that it would never amount to anything more than this, Leana didn’t resist him.
 
In fact, she welcomed Eric’s touch.
 
Right now, more than anything, she needed to be loved and held.

*
 
*
 
*

Across the room, crouched motionless beneath George Redman’s desk, Vincent Spocatti listened.
 
The big leather wingback was pressed hard against his chest.
 
His head was twisted down and uncomfortably to the side.
 
His gun was drawn and ready to fire if he had to.
 

He had been going through the files on Redman’s desk when Leana Redman and her friend stepped into the room, taking him by surprise.
 
What infuriated him more than nearly being caught was the fact that he had found nothing here that would be of interest to Louis Ryan.
 
Not one file on Redman’s desk had to do with the takeover of WestTex Incorporated.

But there were other ways to get the information Ryan needed.
 
And if Ryan was willing to pay Vincent’s price, Vincent could get it for him.

He strained to hear where they were in the room and could hear the sound of their kissing.
 
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay in this position.
 
The muscles in his neck were beginning to knot, as were the muscles in his back.

And then he heard footfalls on the carpet.

He looked through a small crack in the desk’s front panel and saw a ripple of white cloth, a pair of tanned legs, moving in his direction.
 
His hand tightened around the gun. The light above him clicked off.
 
Spocatti tensed, ready to shoot.
 
Leana said, “Remember that, Eric.
 
I turned the light off.
 
I’m not crazy.”

“Yes, you are,” Eric said.
 
“Now, come on.
 
Let me show you how crazy I can be.”

Spocatti waited until he was certain they had left the room before he pushed back the chair, stood and tucked the gun in his holster.
 
As he smoothed his gloved hands down the front of his black dinner jacket, it occurred to him that that was twice this evening that Leana Redman had nearly blown his cover. He stretched his neck, tried to ease a cramp.

Payback
, he thought as he eased out of the room and stepped into the hall,
is a bitch.

*
 
*
 
*

In the lobby, Spocatti stepped out of the elevator, looked for Celina Redman, found her near the buffet talking to a man, and approached them.
 

"Celina Redman?" he asked.

They both turned to look at him.
 
"Yes?" she said.

He showed her his security card.
 
“May I have a word with you in private?"

*
 
*
 
*

The elevator doors opened and Celina stepped into her parent's penthouse.
 
Why had Leana asked to meet here?
 
What couldn't be discussed in the lobby?
 
She had promised Jack a dance and she wanted to get back to him.
 

She could hear the sound of voices at the end of the hall.

Celina moved in their direction, finally coming to a stop beside one of the bedroom doors.
 
Although she could hear only pieces of what was being said, she recognized the voice as Leana’s and knew at once that she should not be standing here, that something was wrong.
 
Still, she listened.
 
Now the voice was clearer.
 
“Please don’t be embarrassed.
 
It happens sometimes.
 
You’ve just had to much to drink.”

Celina moved closer to the door.
 
“Look,” Leana said.
 
“Why don’t you just lie down? You can sleep here tonight.
 
Mom and Dad won’t mind, and I promise they won’t know that I was here with you.
 
Neither will Celina.
 
It’ll be our secret.”

At that moment, Celina stepped into the bedroom.
 
Leana was sitting at the edge of the bed in a thin silk kimono and she turned away from Eric to face her.
 
While Celina noticed that her sister was naked beneath the kimono’s brightly colored fabric, she didn't see the genuine flash of surprise in Leana’s eyes.

She shut the door behind her.
 
“I got your message, Leana.
 
Your friend from security gave it to me.”

Startled, Eric sat up in bed.
 
He looked from Celina to Leana, then realized he was naked and drew a sheet to cover himself.
 
“What message?”

Celina’s face was composed, but inside, she was furious.
 
She leveled Eric with a look.
 
“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” she said.
 
“Not one word.”

“It’s not what you think,” Eric said.

“It’s exactly what I think,” Celina said.
 
“And I don’t want to see you again.
 
What we had is over.”
 
She looked at Leana, who was standing now, holding the kimono shut with tightly clenched hands.
 
“I just want to know one thing before I leave--what did I ever do to you to deserve this?
 
Why did you tell that man to meet you here?”

Leana shook her head.
 
She felt confused, embarrassed and ashamed.
 
Never had she wanted this to happen.
 
And yet it had.
 
But how?

“Answer me,” Celina said.
 
“I have a right to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leana said.
 
“I never gave anyone a message.”

The silence stretched between them like a dangerously fraying thread.
 
Celina turned to leave.
 
“I never expected you to tell me the truth,” she said.
 
“You always were a liar, Leana.
 
And a coward.”

Hand trembling, she opened the door and was about to step through when she stopped and faced her sister a last time.
 
“You can pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, but I know you planned this.
 
I know you told that man to have me meet you here.
 
I think you’ve been waiting years for this moment.
 
To see me hurt.”

Before Leana could say anything more, Celina was gone.

In the silence that passed, Eric looked across the room at Leana.
 
She was dressing.
 
Behind her, Manhattan pushed up a glittering wall of glass and concrete.

“Where are you’re going?” he asked.

“After her, of course.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
 
He slid off the bed.