Some Came Desperate: A Love Saga (37 page)

       “You tell him, dear,” Delia said, unimpressed.  “That’s what he loves about you.  Your honesty and integrity in the face of enormous contradiction.  I mean really.  Here you are sleeping around with married men, but at least you admit your error.  Now that’s fresh.  That is really fresh.”

       “I’ll get my coat,” Nick said, heading for the sofa.

       “Yeah, you get your coat,” Delia said with bitterness.  Then tears began to come into her eyes.  When Nick turned after grabbing his coat and tie and saw Delia in tears, he stood frozen. 

       “What do you think you were going to do, Nicky?” she asked him.  “Leave me for her?  Is that what this was all about?  You ruin my life, you put me in this wheelchair, and then you leave me?  Is that what you were planning on doing?  And I’m supposed to let you?”

       “Don’t do this, Dell,” Nick said, moving toward her.  Simone felt like running away.

       “I used to be Delia!  I used to command attention.  Gianni Versace said I was the cream of the crop.  The best.  Now look at me.”  Her voice was trembling.  “I gave you the best years of my life, Nicky!”

       “I know that, Dell.”

       “Every man wanted me.  Every man.  I could have had kings and princes.  I could have had billionaires and prime ministers.  But I chose you. And you expect me to just sit back and let you abuse me?”

       Nick began turning her chair around.

       “Do you expect me to let some two-bit hooker like this take you from me?  Just take you away?  Do you expect me to just—”

       Tears began to drop from her eyes furiously and she couldn’t continue.  Nick began rolling her out of the hotel room, with the nurse and Bellamy following behind them.  When he looked back at Simone, and saw that almost starry-eyed elusiveness all over her face, he knew.  He knew unlike he had ever known anything before that this was it for her.  Which meant that this was it for them.  That was why he quickly looked away from her.  And began, as was his duty, to console his stricken wife.

THIRTY-ONE

The cab showed no mercy as Simone sat back in the privacy of the backseat.  It had been a week since her last encounter with Nick and it was without question one of the most agonizing weeks of her life.  Now all she wanted to do was to move on; to forget the entire fiasco that was once again becoming her new life and get her old, stale, but tolerable life back.

       The cab stopped in front of the Alms restaurant and Simone paid the fare and got out.  It was a hot day in Miami, and that Florida sun shone around her as if it was a sign: forget the past, Simone, it seemed to be echoing, and embrace your future.  Simone wish she had felt so confident.  Because she couldn’t forget her past, not that easily.  And the future, she thought.  What future?

       She saw Jules’ BMW already at the Alms and relaxed.  At least she still had her sisters, although the jury was still out on Shay.  Just like her relationship with Nick, her relationship with Shay was becoming a serious problem for her.  Maybe they could never repair the breach.  Maybe they can never get beyond that day all those years ago when Simone made that instantaneous decision to leave Shay behind. 

       Inside the restaurant, Simone saw Jules in a booth by the window.   She looked stunning, Simone thought, in her bright white pant suit and scarf.  But Jeremy’s abuse was all over her sister’s face.  Not in any visible scar; Jeremy was too smart a jerk for that.  But in her persona, her inner being, there was nothing that Simone could see but turmoil.

       She allowed the maitre d to escort her to Jules booth.  When she sat down and told the waiter her drink order, she looked at Jules.

       Jules exhaled.  “Shay’s late,” she said as she picked up the menu.

       Simone smiled.  “Why am I not surprised?”  Then she stared at her sister.  “How are you, J?” she asked her with concern in her voice.

       “Fine, and you,” Jules replied in a response so pat that even Jules realized how lame it sounded.  She looked at Simone.  Simone was still staring at her.  “I’m here, Simmie, what do you want me to say?”

       “I want you to say that you’ve kicked Jeremy Druce to the curb–,”

       “Simmie!”

       “–and you’re ready to go on with your life.”

       “Ain’t gonna happen,” Jules said and Simone was surprised.  Usually Jules made excuses or changed the subject or ignored the comment.  But never had she been so certain in her response.

       “Why won’t it happen?”

       “Why do you think, Simmie?  Let’s get real, okay?  I’ve been with Jeremy since I was sixteen years old.  I’m thirty-five now.  Which means I’ve been with Jeremy more than half of my life.  What am I supposed to do about that?  Forget that all of that history exists?  Leave him and find another joker with flaws just as bad if not worse than Jeremy’s?”

       “Or here’s a novel idea,” Simone said, “you could leave men alone altogether and live your life.  God will send you who you need.”

       Jules looked at Simone as if she had grown horns.  “You’re kidding, right?  Leave men alone?  You must be out of your mind.  What am I gonna do without a man after being with one all of my adult life?  You tell me that, Simone.  How am I supposed to function?  I’m not like you.  I’m no Mother Teresa, can go decades without sex kind of girl.  I got to have it and have it repeatedly. I’m sorry, but I do.”

       “God will send you someone, Jules.  Somebody who will love you first, and treat you right.  And marry you, not string you along.”

       “Anyway,” Jules said but Simone wouldn’t let go.

       “You can do better than Jeremy, don’t you realize that? You don’t have to take his abuse.”

       “He’s not abusive,” Jules said as if she believed it.  Simone, however, couldn’t believe she’d said that.

       “Not abusive?”  Simone asked, dumbstruck.  “Jules, that man beats you as if you’re some kind of punching bag and he’s not abusive?  On the day after your thirty-fifth birthday party, a party he didn’t even bother to attend, by the way, you show up barely able to function, and he’s not abusive?  Who are you fooling, Jules?  Because it ain’t me.”

       It sounded so stark, so true, when Simone said it.  Who exactly was she fooling?  Herself?  “He apologizes,” was all she could think to say.

       “I see.  And that makes it all right?  An apology?  I can hit you upside your head, kick you like you’re a dog, treat you like crap, but if I apologize that makes it all okay?”  Then Simone exhaled.  “Remember when we were little and mama used to always allow that man, I can’t even remember his name, to beat on her all the time? I mean her face used to be all swollen and everything.  I used to ask her why; why would she let a man treat her that way.  And you know what she always told me?  ‘He’s good looking and he wants me,’ she would always say.  ‘End of discussion.’  Only it wasn’t the end of discussion for me.  It was almost like she had a mental problem to me.  The man abused her yet she thought he wanted her?  My question even then was yeah, but what does he want you for?”

       Jules looked away from Simone.  She knew exactly what she meant.  Jeremy wanted her, all right, but what for?  As some kind of trophy? As some kind of sex slave?  She didn’t know.  And it pained her to find out.

       “We have got to put an end to all of this abuse, Jules,” Simone continued.  “We have got to stop it.  You deserve better than Jeremy and I can’t have Nick.  So why are we fooling ourselves?  Why do we want what is the absolute worst thing for us to have?”

       Jules couldn’t answer that question. And wasn’t going to try.  “Anyway,” Jules said, closing the menu.  She had zero appetite lately.  “You’re always asking how everybody else is doing.  How are you?”

       Simone had to hesitate before answering.  One thing she had decided after that scene with Nick and his wife, after all that she’d been through in her life, was to keep it real from here on out. “Not good,” she said. 

       “You still want Nick Perry, don’t you?”

       Simone didn’t hesitate.  “Of course I want him,” she said, still keeping it real.  “But I can’t have him.  So there.”

       “So there,” Jules repeated as if it were some sort of a battle cry, and picked back up the menu.

***

On the fourteenth floor of the Colgate building, Nick Perry leaned back in the executive chair behind his desk and tossed the brief on his desk.  Sitting in front of him was Ethan Graham, his eyes glued on his new boss, his heart pounding.  “Well?” he said.  “What do you think?”

       “I think you need to tie your conclusion more into the fifth amendment rather than popular opinion.  Popular opinion gets us good feelings, but it won’t win the case.”

       “But,” Ethan said, ready to pounce but deciding to be respectful, “sir, the reason why I think quoting those opinion polls is important is because it shows the jury that their peers, the public, agrees with us.”

       “I didn’t say not to use it,” Nick reminded Ethan.  “Just don’t make it the centerpiece.  It won’t work.” 

       Ethan disagreed, but he nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

       “Also,” Nick went on, “I want you to rethink your strategy in the Henson case.”

       Ethan was shocked.  “You don’t like that either?”

       “It’s not that I don’t like it, Ethan, but to say that she killed that man because she was suffering PMS is too quirky a defense to prove.  We want to help the lady, not hurt her.  Quirky defenses rarely works.”

       I don’t think it’s quirky, Ethan wanted to say but held his tongue.  Nick went on.

       “We probably need to plea out that case.”

       “Cop a plea?  But Karen Henson is insisting that she’s innocent.  Karen Henson says she didn’t do it.”

       “But the evidence says she did.”

       “Yeah, but Karen Henson—”

       “I know, I know.  Karen Henson proclaims her innocence.  But if she’s wrong, and we go along with that despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I’m afraid Simone Henson will find herself—”

       “Simone Henson?” Ethan said, confused. “Who’s Simone Henson?”

       “What?”  Nick asked, confused.

       “You said Simone Henson.”

       “Simone?  What does Simone have to do with this?”

       “You called Karen Henson Simone Henson.”

       Nick was floored.  He didn’t even realize he had done that.  “Oh,” he said.  “I see.”

       Ethan stared at his boss.  “You’ve got it pretty bad for Simone, hun?” he took a chance and asked him.

       Nick hesitated.  The answer was obvious.  He couldn’t stop thinking about her.  But before he could respond, the private line on his desk phone began to ring.  He gladly grabbed it.  “Nick Perry,” he said.

       On the other line was Bellamy, Nick’s wife’s assistant.  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Perry.”

       “What’s the matter, Bellamy?”

       “It’s Miss Perry, sir.  I’m afraid we had to call 911.”

       Nick’s heart dropped, although he should be accustomed to Delia’s almost monthly visits to the hospital.  “What’s happened?”

       “She’s made a turn for the worse.”

       “The coughing?”

       “The coughing, the breathing, everything, sir. She has made a turn for the worse.”

       “Call Dr. Phelps and tell him what’s happened.  I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

       “Yes, sir,” Bellamy said, but Nick had already hung up.  Nick stood up.

       “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, standing too.

       “My wife,” Nick said, hurrying toward the door.  “She’s been rushed to the hospital.”

       Nick didn’t wait to hear any
‘I’m sorry to hear that
’ language from Ethan.  He left. 

       Ethan, viewing this as an opportunity, although he didn’t quite know what for, made the snap decision and followed him.