The Prince Charming Hoax (31 page)

“
What should I do with it?
”
Leah called after her.

“
Throw it out.
”

Leah opened the box to examine the contents. She wrinkled her forehead, perplexed as to its function, but decided to keep it for a special occasion. She headed into her bedroom to take a nap and tossed it in her nightstand drawer next to her vibrator.

* * *

The buzzer rang promptly at seven.
“
Ms. Gold, Mr. Lazarro is here to see you. Shall I send him up?
”

Leah pressed the intercom button.
“
No, tell him I
’
ll be down in two minutes, thanks.
”
She raced around the living room, looking for her purse, phone, and keys. Then she spotted her things on the foyer table, purposely placed so she could find them easily.
“
Roxie, I
’
m leaving,
”
she shouted as she scooped up her belongings. She heard Roxie
’
s muffled reply from down the hall as she stepped into the elevator.

She checked her reflection in the shiny elevator doors and frowned.
They really should have designed it so you could get a clear image or none at all,
she thought. This pseudo-reflection distorted her features and shape, and she usually spent her time on the rides up and down fussing with her clothes or hair, without ever being satisfied.
“
Oh, who cares? The new Leah gets her confidence from within,
”
she told her distorted reflection.

When the doors opened, she saw Jonathan leaning against the wall in the lobby, absently thumbing through a magazine. As soon as he saw her, he put the magazine down on the reception desk and strode over to greet her.

“
Leah, you look great,
”
he said as kissed her cheek. He grabbed her hand and started for the door.
“
Let
’
s get going. The sunset
’
s going to be a beautiful.
”

“
We really won
’
t be able to see the sunset from down here, Jonathan.
”

“
We can catch the golden light and the beautiful sky as it goes down behind the trees and buildings. Come outside and you
’
ll see.
”

He was right. The Sands was located on the narrowest portion of the barrier island. The front of the building faced west, only one block from the Intracoastal. They walked across the street and sat down on the sea wall where the Water Taxi docked for passengers. The sun was a bright orange ball and the feathery clouds in the sky were pink against the blue sky. They watched as the ball of fire descended behind the multi-million dollar homes of Las Olas Isles.

“
What I started to say before we came out here, Jonathan, was that I get a spectacular view of the sunset from the west terrace of the penthouse. But, I
’
m glad we came because I like being down here better. Sometimes I feel so removed up in that penthouse. The situation up there is—unreal, I guess, for lack of a better word.
”

“
There are a lot of people who would trade their reality for your fantasy life, Leah.
”

“
I know. I
’
m not ungrateful. But I
’
m not comfortable there, either. It
’
s just not me.
”

“
No one
’
s holding a gun to your head to stay. Why not get your own place?
”

“
I
’
m thinking about that—and a lot of other things, too. Come on. Let
’
s go over to Caribbean Café, and I
’
ll tell you all about it.
”

They walked south toward The Strip. The café was located on a quiet block between the bustling cluster of restaurants and shops on Sunrise Boulevard and the heavily trafficked streets above Las Olas Boulevard. Caribbean Café, once a private residence built long before the area became a tourist haven, was set back from the street. A landscaped courtyard wrapped around the structure, with the seating area facing east, overlooking the ocean.

They sat down at one of the small outdoor tables, and a waiter rushed over to take their order.
“
Wine or martini tonight, Leah?
”
Jonathan asked.

“
Neither, I
’
m still recovering from Friday night. I
’
ll have a sparkling water, please, with a lime,
”
she told the waiter.

Jonathan shrugged.
“
I
’
ll have a beer.
”

The waiter nodded, placed a menu on the table, and left to get their drinks.

“
I think this is my favorite spot on Fort Lauderdale Beach,
”
Leah said she leaned back in the cozy wicker chair.

Jonathan took her hand.
“
You certainly look happy. I was going to say,
‘
like the old Leah,
’
but somehow you seem different.
”

Leah nodded and leaned forward.
“
I know I
’
ve been walking around like a zombie for the last few weeks, but I needed to regroup. But, I feel like I
’
ve come out the other side now. More importantly, Jonathan, I have an idea for a new book.
”

“
It
’
s not going to be another one of those man-bashing books, is it? Don
’
t forget, I read your transcripts for
Sexcess in the Suburbs.
”

Leah laughed.
“
I admit that book did have a slight slant. I guess I was releasing some of my anger at Richard and men like him—but don
’
t forget, those stories were all true! But, seriously, this book will be different, Jonathan.
”

“
How?
”

“
Well, it
’
s coming from a feminist perspective, but it
’
s not another
‘
he done-me-wrong
’
story. When things fall apart at the office and at home, the main character will have to figure out how to fix her own life and in doing so will stumble on a solution that can change the world for women, if she can only—
“

The waiter came with their drinks.
“
Would you like to order an appetizer?
”

“
What do you want, Leah?
”

“
I
’
m not hungry. Order whatever you like.
”

“
Bring us whatever special you have tonight,
”
Jonathan told the waiter.
“
Surprise us.
”

“
Very good. Will you be ordering dinner, sir, or shall I take the menu?
”

“
No, I don
’
t think so. Go ahead and take the menu for now.
”

Jonathan turned his attention back to Leah.
“
Where were we?
”

“
I don
’
t remember exactly. Look, I don
’
t have much of the details of the plot worked out anyway, only an outline and the basic concept driving the story. The reason I brought up the book is because I
’
d like a male
’
s perspective. Will you read the outline?
”

“
Of course. I
’
m flattered.
”

Leah sat for a moment, carefully composing her thoughts and what she wanted to say.

“
The truth is I want more than your feedback.
”

“
What do you mean?
”

“
Writing a book is a big undertaking, no matter what. But once you read the outline, Jonathan, you
’
ll understand how much work I have ahead of me to create an environment that will be receptive to the ideas I
’
m going to propose. I believe I
’
ll run into as much opposition as I do support. And—
”
Leah stopped while the waiter placed a huge platter on their table.

“
Our special crab and spinach dip served with warm, freshly baked tortilla chips is tonight
’
s special appetizer. I hope you like it.
”

“
That
’
s great and that
’
s all for now, thank you,
”
Jonathan said and waved the waiter away before he could offer them anything else.

He leaned over and touched Leah
’
s arm.
“
What are you trying to tell me?
”

“
It
’
s just that you may find it difficult to have a relationship with me—any kind of relationship—because I
’
m going to be consumed with this work for a long time, maybe forever. And because you may not agree with what I
’
m proposing.
”

“
Leah, let me tell you something. I don
’
t have to agree with every idea you have. I like that you stand up for what you believe, and that you
’
re willing to take risks to get what you want. That
’
s what attracted me to you in the first place. I told you before I noticed something different about you tonight. If what you
’
re about to do makes you feel good, I
’
m behind you, no matter what.
”

Leah leaned over and kissed him, cradling his face in her hands.
“
That means so much to me. Thank you, Jonathan.
”

He smiled.
“
Any time. So when can I get a copy of this outline, Leah?
”

“
I
’
ll email the file to you tomorrow. I only have one copy printed out, and I want to bring it with me to work on while I
’
m in Philadelphia.
”

“
What? When are you going to Philadelphia?
”

“
On Tuesday. Oh, my God. I have so much to fill you in on. Let me tell you what happened to Roxie. Then I
’
ll tell you about Ali and my niece and why Roxie and I are going up there.
”
Leah rolled her eyes.
“
You may want to order another drink. And something else to eat, if you
’
re hungry. This is a long story.
”

Chapter
26

Roxie rushed over to the answering machine on the kitchen counter as soon as she got back to her apartment. The LED light flashed
“
3.
”
The first was Leah
’
s message from Saturday night. Roxie impatiently pushed the delete button. The second was a recorded message from a telemarketer. Delete. Roxie held her breath as the machine droned on.
“
Sunday, 6:24 p.m.
”
All she heard was the click of a hang up.
Was that D.J.?
Roxie picked up the phone receiver to check the Caller ID for the number of the last incoming call.
“
Unknown,
”
the screen read. She slammed the phone down.

“
Damn him.
”
Roxie stood in the kitchen, tapping her foot.
That bastard!
She wanted the chance to at least give him the verbal equivalent to the pitcher of cold water she didn
’
t get to throw. But, a gnawing sensation inside her suggested there was more to her desire to hear from D.J. than that. Her overall memory of Saturday night was somewhat fuzzy from all the drinking, but her vision of D.J. looming over her with that menacing sneer was disturbingly clear.

She glanced at the clock over the stove. It was almost 8 a.m. An audible growl from her stomach prompted her to open the refrigerator door. She took one look at the almost-empty shelves and swung the door shut.
“
Why do I even bother looking? There
’
s never anything in there except Diet Coke and water.
”

Roxie opened the top drawer and searched through the stack of papers for the hot pink Deli Divas Delivery menu.
She had helped the two women proprietors, Megan and Amy, find the right location and start their new business. They had come to her with the idea to open a restaurant after they quit their corporate positions at a large brokerage firm. It was Roxie
’
s idea to offer only carryout and delivery service, which required far less space than sit-down dining, saving the new entrepreneurs a hefty amount on rent. Once Deli Divas opened, the convenient location and easy access to fresh, delicious food made the business an instant success in an area full of single residents and vacationers. In appreciation, the two young women gave Roxie a lifetime free meal ticket.

After Roxie called in an order for scrambled eggs, lox and cream cheese on a bagel, and coffee, she buzzed the doorman of her building and told him to send the driver up when the delivery arrived. She rummaged through the drawer again and this time pulled out a pad and a pen so she could make a list of everything she needed to do before leaving on her two-week trip.

Itemizing all her business to-dos was easy. Call the office and clear her last-minute vacation with Iris, her broker. Roxie was not concerned that her sudden plans would affect her job or her ability to serve her clients. She brought in so much revenue that Iris let her do her own thing as long as the bottom line continued to be met. Roxie
’
s current projects were ahead of schedule, and her biggest responsibility at this stage of construction was reassuring her clients that everything was progressing well. Elaine, her assistant, was a whiz at smoothing over clients
’
jittery concerns if a problem should arise.

Deciding what clothes to bring was a much more difficult and time-consuming project. Roxie walked into her closet and started to pull out anything she considered as a possibility for the trip. As she selected each outfit, she put out all corresponding accessories—shoes, purse, jewelry—and threw everything out on the bed.

The doorbell rang and she ran to answer, eager to get her coffee and breakfast.
“
I
’
m so glad you
’
re here,
”
Roxie said as she swung the door wide open.

A nice-looking, dark-haired man stood in the hallway. To her surprise, he held out a badge instead of a bag with her take-out order.

“
Detective Michael Santiago, Miami Beach Police.
”
He closed the leather case with his badge and put it in his back pocket.
“
Thank you. It
’
s not often that I get that kind of enthusiastic reception.
”

“
I was expecting my breakfast delivery.
”
Roxie stared at the man for a moment, wondering why he was there.
“
Can I help you?
”

“
Are you Roxanne Stein?

“
Yes.
”

“
I
’
m here to ask you a few questions about Daryl Johnson.
”

Roxie gripped the doorknob tighter as the gnawing in her stomach turned to a painful stab.
“
Has D.J. been in an accident?
”

“
No.
”
He shifted his glance to look behind her into the apartment.
“
I won
’
t take too much of your time. May I come in?
”

Roxie stepped aside to let him enter, gesturing with her arm for him to come in. She tried to read his face for clues as he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small notebook, but he remained stoically businesslike. He took a card from inside the notebook and handed it to her as he walked into her apartment.

The detective stood in the entranceway, waiting for her to direct him where to go. He may have been still, but his eyes swept across the open layout of the condo, and he appeared to be taking a quick inventory of every item in the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas.

In the bright natural light of her apartment, Roxie saw that Santiago was about forty-five, with a full head of wavy black hair graying at the temples. He was wearing a dark gray sports jacket over an open-collared white shirt. His clothes were snug, revealing a muscular build. He didn
’
t exhibit the macho arrogance typical of her experience with Latin men, but Roxie had the feeling he was checking her and the apartment out with more than professional interest.

She motioned him into the living room and pointed to the couch against the wall.
“
Sit down, please.
”
She sat in an armchair facing him.

“
What
’
s this about, Detective—
”
She glanced down at his card, although she remembered his name.
“
Santiago?
”
she finished.

The detective sat with his back straight and legs slightly parted. He opened his notebook to a fresh page and rested it on his left knee. He asked some routine questions about where she lived and worked, jotting down her replies meticulously in his notebook.

Roxie yawned. She began to wonder how long this interview would take...she had so much to do today!

Santiago leaned in suddenly and looked directly into Roxie
’
s eyes.
“
When was the last time you saw Mr. Johnson?
”

A rapid, thumping heartbeat replaced her boredom.
“
Saturday night,
”
she said, hoping to sound more casual than she felt.

The detective leafed through his notebook and took out what looked like a brochure or folded flyer, but didn
’
t show it to Roxie.
“
Ms. Stein, were you with Mr. Johnson at his private club on East Tenth Street in Miami Beach on Saturday night?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Have you seen this girl before?
”

Santiago handed her the paper he was holding. It was a composite, the photo sheets models hand out with their names, clothing sizes, and four photos of themselves in different poses. The model
’
s name had been covered up with black marker.

Roxie stared at the photo of a pretty blonde. She unfolded the piece, studying each shot carefully. Her mind raced.
Was this the blonde she saw D.J. get on top of in the party room?
“
She looks familiar, but I couldn
’
t say exactly,
”
Roxie said. She put the comp down on the table and leaned back in her chair.

“
Did you see her on Saturday night at the private club you where you were with Mr. Johnson?
”

“
There were many attractive blondes there. This woman
’
s obviously a model, so maybe I know her face from a magazine.
”

“
Please look at the photos again. This girl is fifteen.
”
Santiago emphasized
girl.

Roxie picked up the photo brochure again and looked closely at each image.
Fifteen? That would make her younger than Ali.
She focused on keeping her face expressionless.

“
Ms. Stein, did you see this girl engaged in sexual activity while at the club on Saturday night?
”

Roxie felt a rush of panic, but she tried to keep her appearance calm. She dropped the photo back on the coffee table and sat straight up in her chair. She looked into the detective
’
s eyes with her no-nonsense, let
’
s-close-this deal expression.
“
I don
’
t know that I saw her at the club at all, much less engaged in sexual activity.
”

“
She says she saw you there.
”

“
Detective, why are you here? It
’
s time you told me what you want.
”

“
I
’
m investigating a charge that this under-age girl was drinking and raped repeatedly on Saturday night by men and women, at the club where you said you went with Daryl Johnson on Saturday night. She has identified you as being present at the scene.
”

“
Me? Present at a rape? I assure you, Detective, I witnessed no such thing.
”
Roxie stood up, and her voice was shaky.
“
I don
’
t know who this girl is or why she would say such a thing, because it is simply not true.
”

Santiago motioned for her to sit down.
“
Let me explain so can you understand the situation. Technically, Ms. Stein, any sexual activity between her and another person, male or female, twenty-four years or older is considered statutory rape because of her age. So I
’
ll ask you again. Did you see this girl engaged in sexual activity at the club on Saturday night?
”

“
And let me tell you again, Detective. I can
’
t say that I saw her there at all.
”

“
Look at the photos carefully, Ms. Stein. Are you sure you don
’
t remember seeing her? Witnesses say you danced with her.
”

The doorbell rang and Roxie jumped up, grateful for the interruption.
“
My breakfast is here. Excuse me.
”
She looked around for her purse and spied it on the dining room table. She pulled out her wallet and answered the door.

This time a young man stood before her.
“
Sorry it took so long, Miss. We
’
re really busy this morning.
”

“
No problem. Your timing was perfect.
”
She took the bag and pressed a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.
“
That
’
s for you.
”

The delivery boy looked at the receipt, then at the money in his hand, then back at Roxie.
“
Wow! Thanks, Miss.
”

“
Thank you,
”
Roxie said as she closed the door. She brought the bag into the kitchen area of the great room and put it on the counter. She knew Santiago was watching her every move.
“
Since I ordered before you arrived, Detective, I
’
m afraid I only have enough for me. She held up the bag.
“
But, I
’
d be glad to share it with you.
”

Santiago shook his head at her from where he sat on the couch.
“
No, thanks.
”

“
Let me pour my coffee, and I
’
ll be right back.
”
Roxie transferred her drink from the paper cup to a mug and put it in the microwave to reheat. She delayed her return to the living room for as long as she could. She looked longingly at her bagel and eggs, but decided to wait until after the police detective left so she could enjoy eating it.