Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue (49 page)

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Authors: Christopher Smith

BOOK: Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue
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“That’s none of your business.”

She willed herself to remain calm.
 
“If you lied to me, then it is my business.
 
I’ve invested a lot of time and concern and love in you.
 
I was beaten in your apartment by two men who wanted to hurt you for a reason you somehow can’t explain.
 
If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably still be lying in your own blood.
 
If I hadn’t called in a number of favors, your name still would be at the top of the tabloids.
 
You owe me the truth and you’re going to spill it.
 
If you don’t, you can get out of here and out of my life.
 
It’s really that simple.”

Eric reached for his crutches, struggled to his feet and moved to the windows that were at the opposite end of the room.
 
He looked out at the city while she looked at him.

She deserved the truth.
 
But how could he tell her that what began as a terrible mistake during the night of Redman International’s opening had snowballed into a nightmare he couldn’t let go of until Leana Redman paid for what she did to him?

The doctors still were not sure if he would regain full use of his leg.
 
The damage done to his muscles and nerves was more severe than they originally thought.
 
It was only right that Leana pay and he planned on going forward with that.
 
Still, he had to tell Diana something.
 
She now was the only person he could count on.
 
Without an apartment or an income, how would he survive? Lawsuits were coming.
 
At the very least, he needed her guidance.

He moved in her direction.
 
“It’s true,” he said.
 
“I was fired from Redman International.”

“Why?”

“Because I was stupid.”

“What a surprise.
 
How stupid?”

“I almost slept with Leana the night of Redman International’s opening.
 
We would have gone through with it, but I was so drunk, I couldn’t get it up.”
 
He reclaimed his seat.
 
“Is that frank enough for you?
 
She was putting me to bed and telling me to forget about my limp cock when Celina stepped into the room.
 
We were in George and Elizabeth’s penthouse.
 
How she found us there is obvious.
 
Someone tipped her off.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Diana said.
 
The tone of her voice dropped the temperature in the room a good ten degrees.

“It meant nothing, Diana.
 
We were both drunk and angry at life and Celina.
 
It was a mistake.”

“A rather large one, I’d say.”
 
And the room dropped another ten degrees.

“Celina must have told George,” Eric said.
 
“And then he fired me.
 
That’s all.”

“Who attacked us that night?”

“That I don’t know.
 
It could have been anyone.
 
It could have been a burglary.”

“Oh, please,” she said--and the room started to heat up.
 
“It wasn’t a burglary and you know it.
 
Nothing was missing from your apartment.
 
I checked on that the day after you were admitted to the hospital.
 
Those men somehow slipped past security and entered your apartment, which was locked.
 
The police reports show that the door was not opened with force and that the lock wasn’t picked.
 
Whoever did it had a key.”

A silence passed.

“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Who did it?”

Friends of Leana’s.
 
“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do you honestly believe I’d let whoever did this to me--to us--get away with it if I knew who they were?
 
Give me a break, for Christ’s sake.
 
If I knew who was responsible for shattering my fucking leg, Diana, I’d bypass the police and take care of them myself.”

At least that rang true.
 
“You’ve got to have some idea,” she said.

“Take your pick,” he said.
 
“I’ve pissed off a lot of people during my years at Redman International.
 
I’ve made a lot of enemies, especially while working on the deal with WestTex.
 
You know that as well as I do.
 
It could be anyone.”

She leaned back in her chair.
 
So, maybe he didn’t know.
 
Did she care?
 
She didn’t know that either and a part of her hated herself for not knowing.
 
She finished the last of her coffee and poured another cup.
 
“So, what are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Eric said.
 
“I was hoping I could stay here.”

“I’ll bet you were.”

“Only until my apartment is repaired.”

“Really?” she said.
 
“That’s presumptuous.
 
And fixing your apartment will take months.
 
I don’t see it happening.
 
I don’t see you here.”
 
She nodded at the jewelry.
 
“Sell those.
 
That should put a roof over your head.”

“I need your help.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d like to stay here.”

“Tell me,” she said.
 
“How do you plan on paying for the repairs on your apartment?
 
You have hospital bills to pay, lawyer fees to pay and, if you lose the case, a ruined van Gogh, two botched Monets and destroyed Henry VIII furniture to buy.
 
I don’t see how you’re going to pay for the apartment, Eric, let alone the rest of it.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to get a job.”

She wanted to laugh.
 
“Well, God knows you’re a catch, Eric.
 
Naturally, any reasonable person will overlook the fact that George sent you packing, they’ll overlook the headlines you’ve been making, and they’ll just hire you just because you’re the great Eric Parker.”

“One man will.”

“And who is that?”

“You’ve seen the roses Louis Ryan has been sending me.
 
He obviously wants me at Manhattan Enterprises.
 
He’s also got as much money as George--and we all know how those two feel about each other.
 
If I play my cards right, I might get myself out of this mess completely.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

 

“Do exactly as I say and you won’t get hurt.”

His voice was unnerving.
 
Celina stood at the edge of the footbridge, a bungee cord no larger than the size of her wrist strapped to her ankles, a blindfold covering her eyes.
 
Although she couldn’t see the river twisting below her, she could sense the coolness of the water just as she could sense the sheerness of this height.

She clenched her teeth and waited for her instructions.

“I’m not comfortable with you wearing that blindfold,” the man standing behind her said.
 
His name was Steve Simpson and his company, Vertigo Fever, owned the footbridge they were standing on.
 
“No one’s worn one before--not Jack, not even myself.
 
I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Celina removed the blindfold and looked at the man.
 
Although she was nervous about jumping, a part of her even frightened, she tried to appear calm.
 
“That may be so,” she said.
 
“But you’ve told me time and again that this sport is safe.”

“It is safe,” Simpson said.

“Then what difference does wearing a blindfold make?”

“Probably none.
 
But you’re a beginner and it’s a 320-foot drop.
 
I’m not comfortable with it.”

“So, I can’t wear it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I would feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if someone with experience put the blindfold on and jumped first--like Jack.
 
That way I can see how it goes and hopefully feel more comfortable with it.”

Celina was about to speak when Jack held up a hand.
 
He looked at Simpson and said with a grin, “I wish I could go first, Steve.
 
But she won’t let me.”

“Won’t let you?”

“That’s right.”

“Why not?”

“Because we tossed a coin before we left the city and it came up heads.
 
She jumps first.”

“I don’t believe this.”

Celina crossed her arms.
 
For a moment, her fear of jumping was replaced by impatience.
 
She wanted this over with.
 
“Believe it,” she said.
 
“Now, can we get on with this?
 
I’m sure these other people would like a chance to jump.”

Simpson looked at the group of twelve other jumpers who were waiting behind them, saw the impatience on their faces and made his decision.
 
“Forget it,” he said to Celina.
 
“Either you jump without the blindfold, or you don’t jump at all.”

Celina felt her face flush.
 
This was ridiculous!
 
What harm was there in wearing a stupid blindfold?
 
Before she could protest, a tall man with dark hair and sharp features stepped away from the group of other jumpers and said, “I have a suggestion.”

Celina looked at the man.
 
He was wearing a black T-shirt, white shorts and dark sunglasses.
 
He looked familiar to her, though she hadn’t noticed him on the walk up.
 
“What’s that?” she asked.

“Why don’t I jump first?
 
I’m experienced, you’ll still be able to jump before your friend and I’ll wear the blindfold so Steve here can judge for himself if it’s safe.”

Celina turned to Steve.
 
“Well?” she said.
 
“What do you think?”

“Depends on how long he’s been jumping.”

“Two years,” Vincent Spocatti said.
 
“At a park in Texas.”

 

 

*
 
*
 
*

 

 

“My partner is in a raft anchored beneath the bridge,” Simpson said to Spocatti.
 
“If you lean forward, you can see him.”

Spocatti gripped the footbridge’s wooden handrail, leaned forward and saw bobbing in the river an orange raft that seated eight.
 
The man sitting in it waved up to them.
 
Although it was difficult to tell from this height, the man looked half Spocatti’s size.

“You about ready?” Simpson asked.

Spocatti nodded.

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