Living Lies (33 page)

She gave her address to an unfamiliar voice and popped open a bottle of beer from the fridge. Melanie sat on the orange Formica countertop, leaned against the dark wood cabinets and stretched her legs over the sink. It was a comfortable position, one that developed gradually over many years of wearing out the same spots in the yellow linoleum.

Fifteen minutes later her stomach growled at the slamming of a car door. It was her Pavlovian response, hunger at the sounds of take-out delivery.

“Hello,” the driver’s face was well known as Melanie handed him a bill. “I’m glad to see you, you just won me 20 bucks. We thought you might have died.”

Melanie nodded. “Nice. Congratulations.”

Steam drifted out as she opened the little white box filled with soft noodles, vegetables, mixed animals (pig, cow and chicken) and a crustacean. Ripping open the corner of a soy sauce packet she drained its contents into the container, then broke her chopsticks apart and rubbed them together, smoothing out the rough edges. Grabbing another beer, she climbed the steps to bed, where she’d eat and fall asleep to the nightly news.

Melanie wasn’t surprised the Tampa story hadn’t made it on every cable news network. Thanks to her team it had been a non-event. Sure, there had been wide-spread evacuations and a multitude of traffic jams but Melanie had seen much worse escape mention.

Instead, she watched a newswoman reporting from the White House. Earlier in the day the President had met with a handful of Senators. Economic strategy was the topic and from behind the correspondent Melanie watched Hugh Parker. A big, toothy grin stretched from one side of his devil face to the other as he shook hands with the Commander-in-Chief.

“... it is a unique idea,” the woman was saying. “Senator Parker has been the biggest proponent to alternative fuel. Some see it is and end to his presidential aspirations, before this ‘flip-flop’ he topped the list for presidential candidates. Now, well, we will have to wait, Senator Parker is known for his innovation. Maybe this is a part of his grand scheme. This is Natalie Hart, with the latest from Washington.”

Fifteen minutes later the story repeated. Melanie watched Hugh closely. He didn’t seem like a man concerned about his missing son.

She picked the shrimp and beef out leaving half a box of noodles, and set the TV’s sleep timer for 30 minutes. Sinking down into her pillow she watched inattentively. The next moment, or so it seemed, she was snapped awake by the ring of her cell phone. The television was off and her room was dark.

More bad news,
she thought as she answered with a raspy voice.

A voice on the other end said only her name, “Melanie,” but that was all it took for her heartbeat to quicken.

“Adam?”

Now she was fully alert.

“It’s too late to be calling, I know, I’m sorry.”

“Is everything all right? Trish?” Her heart pounded, bracing for the bad news. There had been no answer when she’d called earlier. Her blood drained to her toes.

“No, Mel, she’s fine, it’s nothing like that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise. I had dinner with Trish and Jason.”

Melanie breathed, letting out a sigh of relief. She ran her shaky hand through her hair. “Okay.” It was going to take a minute for her muscles to relax. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Good, well, sort of. I’ve been thinking about you and wondering how things were going?”

“Busy,” she said. Her deep, calming breaths weren’t working.

“So…” he started and Melanie’s mind flashed to their last meeting.

“Before you say anything – if it’s about the Fourth then please don’t. I would really rather forget the entire evening.” She listened to the silence and wondered about the conversation she’d just stopped. If it was about that night, she decided she was better off not knowing. But her pulse was the rapid beacon that told a different story. She wanted to hear what he was going to say.

“Melanie, I would really like to see you,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, his voice calm and even. “I’m going to be in D.C. tomorrow and I
was hoping
to take you to dinner.”

Her brain was still calculating the risks when she surprised herself by saying, “I’d like that.”

Adam sighed, like he’d been holding his breath. “Great. Daniel’s Dragonfly, tomorrow night?”

“That place is impossibly packed,” she said, reeling from her impromptu response.

“I know a few people. I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

“How about we meet there?” Her heart compressed. She was going to see Adam.

“Whatever you want. Mel, are we okay?” He cleared his throat and sounded insecure.

She hadn’t thought of Adam since she’d returned to the Agency. And now her feelings were re-surfacing. He was trouble.

“I want to see you, but don’t have expectations.”

“I won’t.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“I can’t wait.”

She swallowed back

“Sweet dreams, Mel.”

She stayed motionless in her pitch-black room.

Throughout her morning of meetings Melanie carried on business as usual, wrestling with her emotions behind a large disposable cup of vanilla coffee.

A tingle of life initiated in the pit of her stomach. Adam’s butterflies had been revived.

She called Trish.

Flying through the obligatory pleasantries she told Trish about Adam’s call and their plans to meet.

“Aren’t you happy?”

“I don’t know. Since I got my life back I haven’t even thought of Adam or Javier. I’ve pushed my pathetic summer behavior out of my mind and I like it that way.”

“You want to go back to being the celibate workaholic you’ve always been?”

Melanie sighed. “No, but I don’t want to be the irrational, love-sick teenager, either. I care about Adam, but I don’t need him. I needed him when I was in San Diego, without a job, without a purpose, and he was frolicking with the mammoth.”

“He split up with Gigi for you,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“They’re separated? When did that happen?”

“During the Fourth of July party, right after Jason took you home. I don’t think you were even to Jason’s car before he told her.” Trish lowered her voice. “She would have made a scene if not for the guest list.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“He asked me not to. Then he disappeared for a week, but he’s asked about you every day since he got back. He checked in twice yesterday. I guess he got tired of waiting.”

Melanie sat speechless lost for the moment in her thoughts. “Well, he shouldn’t have done that. It’s too late – I’m in D.C. now. It’s not for forever, but I’m content.”

“Jesus, you are so pig-headed! The guy’s in love with you and you’re acting like a bitch.”

“Ouch.” Melanie grimaced. “That’s harsh.”

“How about spoiled brat, then? Either way you won’t listen. Mel, I love you – you’re my best friend, but you’re so stubborn, just like your mother, and if you snub him I swear I’ll beat you senseless.”

The feelings of that horrible night came tumbling back – too many martinis, too much said by everyone involved. She felt the hangover pushing its way back.

“Wow, just like my mother? I think I’d rather be called a bitch.”

Melanie looked up to a knock on her office door and waved Jane inside as she finished her conversation with Trish.

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll think about what you said, except for the mean parts. And I’m not like my mother.” Was she? “Hey, have you heard from Carla? I’ve been trying to reach her all week.”

Jane lingered after placing a DVD on top of a pile of folders on Melanie’s desk.

“Last I heard someone new threw their name in for Ted’s seat. Carla’s been scrambling with their campaign manager, complaining about airtime. She’s fine. Call me tomorrow,” Trish commanded, “and Mel, I’m sorry. I go too far, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I need that. Bye.”

“Love you,” Trish said.

“Love you, too.”

Jane loitered inside the door, uncharacteristically paying close attention to every word. “Was there something more?”

“Um, the DVD is from Mike. He just dropped it off and said it was extremely urgent, and I guaranteed him I would hand it to you personally.” Her voice trembled slightly at the end of each word. “Um,” she said again, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Melanie’s eyebrows lifted.

“I was wondering about Agent Scott?” Jane’s pale brows pulled in tight as her face flushed pink then feverishly added, “I’m sorry, I was out of line by asking. I usually don’t pay any attention to the rumors about you. It’s just that he invited me out to dinner, I just automatically thought…”

“Jane,” Melanie said, calmly.

Jane, her face glowing red behind her fashionable rectangular eyeglasses, asked, “yes?”

“Jack and I are not romantically involved.”

“Really?” she asked, forgetting her embarrassment and stepping closer to Melanie. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Melanie nodded with a laugh.

“Of course you’d know, what a stupid question. I’m sorry,” she giggled and exhaled.

Melanie watched Jane walk dreamily out the door, then backtracked a pace.

“Agent Ward?”

“Yes?”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if,” her face twisting, “I accepted Agent Scott’s invitation?”

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” Melanie relaxed.

Melanie chuckled as she settled back into her chair and slid the DVD into her computer. Mike had finished deciphering the encryption, a formula for an achievable alternative to petroleum gasoline, more efficient than the corn product used in Brazil. Melanie spent the next hours trying to connect the dots. Her mind traveled back to the clip on the news. What was he up to? She wondered, was it money? Finn didn’t care about monetary gains – the Parker boys were all about power – or were they?

Well, I have a piece of their puzzle now
, she thought slyly.

Melanie brought in a team to further explain the formula and what impact it would have on the economy.

It was just after 5 p.m. the next time Melanie looked at the clock. She left the room filled with experts who could speculate without her. The day had run like a roller coaster, slowly dragging on for hours, then suddenly the hour hand behaved like second hand and time flew.

Hurriedly, she walked the bustling halls, ignoring the whispers as she passed the kitchen and living areas of the old building. They were probably gossiping about her and Jack.

Let them
, she thought and smiled hello to the storage room filled with costumes and disguises of every nature, including cocktail dresses. She knew the layout well and went directly to the rack with her size, grabbing the first dress that caught her eye and folding it into her shoulder bag. Next was a pair of matching shoes and a silver clasp purse. Like the spook she was, Melanie snuck out the door, down the corridor and disappeared into the waiting car.

CHAPTER 21

The heavy wooden doors, forged with black iron hardware, were like portals into the past. Stepping across the threshold of Daniel’s Dragonfly was like taking a trip into medieval times. Cold, uneven slabs of yellow stone covered the floors and climbing plants clung to the rough slate walls. In the central atrium Melanie gazed up to the glass ceiling that stretched two stories high, where perfumed flowering vines reached for sunlight.

“May I help you?”

Melanie looked at the source of the voice, a gentleman in a tailored dark green waistcoat and green plaid tie. “I’m admiring your cubicle,” she said. When he didn’t crack a smile she added, “I’m waiting for Adam Chase.”

“Yes, Mr. Chase is in the bar.” The man pointed his stubby finger at a pair of swinging doors with stained-glass windows.

“Thank you,” she said, and pushed open the door.

A highly polished bar stretched across the length of the narrow room. She looked at the tables with iron chairs and mosaic tabletops. Most seats were filled with politicians and lobbyists, their ties loosened and top buttons undone. Tightly pinned men and women during the day, unwinding and speaking in low voices over brandy snifters and highballs.

Her breath caught.

His broad shoulders were covered in a dark suit that blended seamlessly with the rest of the Washington men. Except he was irresistibly handsome, so much so that her heart ached at the sight of his strong jaw, his dark hair cropped close behind the curve of his ear. Mindlessly she bit her lip and held her breath.

He spoke with the waiter, his tan deeper than only two weeks earlier. He glanced at his watch.

I’m here
, she called out silently. She had forgotten how powerful her physical reaction was to him.

He turned, as if having heard her. She waited for the recognition to sink in, watching the corners of his mouth lift into a brilliant smile. Melanie stood frozen, her silver heels adhered to the floor, not breathing she waited for him to cross the room.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s great to see you.”

“You too,” she whispered.

“I got us a table and a bottle of wine,” he said, leading her to a small table with an image of a golden dragonfly in flight over cobalt blue glass.

He gave a nod to the sommelier, whose livery matched that of the maitre d’, and held the chair for her.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, enjoying the feel of his leg against her knee.

“Pretty good,” he chuckled. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?” his eyebrow arched playfully.

“Oh, right.” Melanie said, not understanding unless it meant he was missing Gigi. The wine steward arrived with an aired bottle of Sauvignon.

“I left Oscar’s,” Adam said matter-of-factly as he raised his glass to check the color of the wine.

“Really? Are you opening your restaurant?”

“Not yet, but it was time for change,” he smiled and without pretension sipped and accepted the bottle of wine.

Two glasses were generously filled.

“I heard you broke up with Margaret,” Melanie said, playing nervously with the stem of her own glass and unable to call a grown –
very grown
– woman “Gigi.”

“I should’ve done it sooner.”

She looked up into his incredibly intense, breathtakingly handsome face.

“Are you surprised?”

“I thought you two were very…” what was the right word? “…connected.” Gigi had called it “love”, but Melanie couldn’t.

“Hmm? No, I wouldn’t say that. I’d say we were convenient.”

Melanie wondered at convenient.
How could that be? He’d humiliated her for convenient?

“It didn’t seem convenient when you left me standing alone on the beach.” Her passion leaning toward anger.

She felt his eyes scrutinizing her every expression, analyzing her reaction to him.

“I know,” he said, dropping his eyes. “I know I have no right to ask anything from you but I was hoping,” his voice cracked and he still looking down, “that you could forgive me.” He slid his gaze to meet hers. “I screwed this up, Melanie, and if I could take it all back I would. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel.”

Everything about him cried genuine remorse and that sincerity pulled at her heartstrings. Thumping painfully in her chest her imprudent heart melted in forgiveness and compassion. She reached to touch his hand, and his fingertips were cool, a signal of nerves. His hand tightened around hers and they both took in a breath. “Well, it wasn’t just you. I have regrets of my own.”

“Do you?” His eyes pleaded.

Javier came to mind, clearly it was what Adam was thinking, though she hadn’t necessarily meant him. Melanie considered which part of Javier she regretted. She didn’t. But she could be sorry for the pain it was causing Adam. Later she might add the sex part but at the time
that
was what kept her sane.

She swallowed the expensive wine too fast, she knew, but there was an entire bottle and she could use the fermented grapes.

Adam smiled. “Would you rather have a shot of tequila?”

“You’re going to think I’m an alcoholic,” she said, but didn’t refuse.

He motioned for the bartender. The rims of the heavy glasses clinked as they each licked a sprinkle of salt from their hands and swigged the shots before biting down on wedges of lime.

Melanie’s heart fluttered. His smile was bright and the liquor burned down her esophagus to her empty stomach.

“Were you nervous about tonight?” she asked.

“I’m still nervous. You?”

She nodded.

His smile dropped and the vein in his neck throbbed.

“You know, there really isn’t anything to forgive.”

“Mel,” he said, with a look that proved he was unconvinced, shaking his head.

“I was wrong, too,” she said. “Consider yourself forgiven.”

The fragileness in his eyes was fleeting. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Just like that?”

Melanie didn’t look away. She wanted to see him vulnerable, doubting there would be many opportunities to peer into his soul.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we can start over?” he asked, quickly composing himself.

She wanted to say yes, she wanted to hold onto this feeling. “I don’t know how that would be possible.”

“Then say maybe. I’ll take a maybe.”

“Maybe.” The knots in her stomach multiplied.

The moments of silent staring continued as they were led from the bar to the restaurant. A surreal quality embodied the restaurant, extending further than the visual illusion of a castle: a maiden with blonde braids sat upon a wooden stool plucking a six foot harp, and the roasted duck in a rosemary/cranberry sauce smelled of ages past.

When Chef Daniel, stout with ruddy cheeks and strawberry/orange hair, emerged from the kitchen to say hello, even he seemed illusory.

Scooting into the booth, pushing Melanie toward Adam, he

smiled and wound his ample arm along the top of the booth.

“So, this is the girlfriend that you’re so eager to impress?” his accent fluctuated between Scottish and Irish as he appraised her. “Too skinny” had been his verdict.

Melanie looked at Adam, who took the question in stride and made the introductions. Daniel, as it turned out, was robust and jovial, laughing loud enough to be noticed by all.

“Finally a woman who is able to tie this one down,” he said, leaning in close enough for Melanie to catch a whiff of garlic and body odor. “He was quite popular,” he added a wink of his bloodshot eye. “Did you hear what happened to Gibson?”

Daniel threw out a few more names as he leaned across Melanie’s lap to grouse, completely forgetting to carry on with the ruse of the accent.

“How did you two meet?” Melanie asked, pulling as far away from the man as possible without being rude.

“We were competing for the position at Oscar’s.”

“Really?” she asked, catching a clumsy moment between Daniel and Adam.

“Yeah, but Adam was more popular,” Daniel snorted and dragged his weight to the edge and heaved himself out of the booth. “It was lovely meeting you, Melanie, and Adam, stop by anytime you’re in town. We can chew the fat.”

“I’d like that, and thanks for the table.”

Daniel snapped his fingers at a passing waiter and returned to the kitchen.

“He’s enthusiastic. I can see where this place gets its personality.”

“He is unique. We met just after I arrived in San Diego. He was a big-shot chef even back then.”

“But
you
got the job at Oscar’s.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, concentrating on the past.

“You told him I was your girlfriend?” she asked, amused. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

He shrugged. “It was easier than explaining the truth,” he chuckled, his expression turned boyish. “I’m happy with a maybe.” He brushed his fingers along her cheek then rested his warm hand on the back of her neck.

“Do you miss her?” she couldn’t help herself. Consumed with curiosity and jealousy, she was unable to let it go.

“Who?”

“Gigi.”

“Why would I miss her?” He leaned in, his brows knitted in tightly. “God, Mel, the only time I’ve thought of her was when I agonized about how I hurt you.” His hands rubbed down her arms. “The night of the party you said some things.”

“I was pretty drunk.” She felt drunk now, her toiling brain cloudy.

He nodded. “I hope not too drunk.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“You said exactly what I was feeling.” His intense eyes drilled into her.

Melanie was speechless.

“I fell for you the second I saw you. It was an arrow straight through my heart, taking me by surprise and leaving me defenseless. I know I screwed up and I can’t take back the things I said and did, but…”

“I forgave you, Adam.”

“Mel, I don’t forgive myself.”

“I am as much to blame as you. I pushed you away, remember?” she smiled, “Jumped overboard.”

“I remember.” The tense muscles in his face relaxed, a bit. “At the beach, the volleyball game, did you know I was going to be there or was it a coincidence?”

“I knew.”

“How? I don’t recall ever mentioning I played volleyball.”

“You did. On the boat you said you were missing the game to be with me.”

He nodded, thinking.

“You could have been mine?” He jaw tightened and emotion rose to his eyes. “You kissed me,” he rubbed his temples, “but Gigi showed up and she was so easy. I tried to believe that … I don’t know … but when I saw you with Javier … I imagined…” He clenched his jaw, his emerald eyes steely. “I was angry.”

She felt his pain although even though he called it “anger.”

“I gave up on us. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hands and Melanie knew he’d been berating himself for weeks. “I knew that we were meant to be together but I got scared. I can’t believe how quickly and desperately I fell for you.” When he looked back at her his eyes were clear, remorseful. “Mel, I need to know … about the ‘maybe’ – is it because you don’t feel the same anymore, or is it Javier, or something completely different?”

“Can’t you see how I feel about you?”

She released his hands and he cupped her face to look into her face.

“I can’t read you,” he gritted his teeth, struggling, confused. “I don’t know how you feel and I’m terrified that you’re just sitting here to be polite and that I’ve lost you.”

His touch lingered long after his hands were gone.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” she lost her voice to a whisper.

His tendons in his jaw flickered and his lips disappeared into a narrow line. “Really?”

Melanie could only nod.

His desire was in his voice as he said her name and on his lips as he gently kissed her. “God, you are so beautiful,” he said, holding on tightly. “Whenever I think about you, I think, she couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as I remember but then I see you, like tonight, and you are, even more than I remembered.”

That was it, her heart was let loose.

After dinner, the fresh air did nothing to clear her mind. Even the distinctive scent of a well-used cab couldn’t undo her euphoria.

“Two stops.” Adam told the driver once they were settled in the back. “We’ll drop you off first.”

Melanie rattled her address. Adam’s smile was simple and open and it gave her courage.

“Adam,” she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I thought we could spend tonight together.”

“I’m not going to rush you. I’m determined to wait for as long as you need.”

Melanie wanted to laugh.

“There’ll be only one stop,” she said.

She was taking Adam into her unimpressive habitat. Either that or she would do the Saturday morning “walk of shame,” exiting his hotel in her previous night’s dress.