What Fools Believe

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WHAT FOOLS BELIEVE

A Short Story By

Mackenzie Harper

Copyright © 2013 Mackenzie Harper

Kindle Edition. All rights reserved.

HE RAISED HIS eyes from the menu as if an inkling from his buried past, reached across the dining room, tapped him on the shoulder and instructed him to look up. Hers was a face he saw traces of in depositions, at the annual holiday party. It was one he tried to forget. And the last one he expected to see in his city tonight.
 

Months out of law school, Joshua Phillips earned the only position open that year for new graduates at Quincy, Norman and Associates. Proud, he strutted into the gleaming offices on his first day with something to prove and a list of objectives the length of his arm. Instantly, he fell love. He heard songbirds. The recirculated air felt crisp and clean. The break room coffee tasted sweeter. Every unfamiliar face smiled just for him. Three boring days of filing discoveries for senior associates dragged him back down to earth, but it was a night of barhopping that caused him to miss the 6:50 bus. As he rushed across the courtyard, he spilled coffee on his tie — fortunately, he stored extras in his desk drawer. And the prettiest girl he’d even seen held the door for him.
 

Judging from the green stripe in her black hair and the worn down Converse she scuffed over the immaculate marble floors, Joshua figured they came from the same worlds. He approached her in the elevator, employing a string of disarming jokes at his own expense to “break the ice”. Her giggles blossomed into full belly laughs and they exchanged phone numbers. He exited a few floors below her, dialing her number before the doors glided shut. That same evening they had drinks. In truth, she fascinated him. A strong attraction, a fundamental chemistry he couldn’t articulate, grabbed them, mingled with the alcohol, and refused to let the night end. The next morning over breakfast when she formally introduced herself, he put the heart-wrenching pieces of the puzzle together. They decided that one night would be as far as things would go. But by sheer luck or pure chance, he ran into her again at a house party that weekend.
 

It must’ve been fate or destiny or both.
 

Whatever the case, lightning struck that night in the waning days of October. The time flew by, and on a cold, wet January morning, Rebecca Norman walked out of his dingy apartment and boarded a plane bound for DC on the arm of Spencer Alvey. He never spoke to her again.
 

Rebecca and Spencer married the following spring and moved into a Georgetown mansion. The young congressman from a political family and his beautiful new wife, the pair skyrocketed into DC stardom. Bitter, Joshua tried not to follow the congressman’s career. He boxed up some mementos, one or two personal items she left in his apartment, tucked them in the back of his closet and concentrated on the law. Though she left for her own reasons and without much concern for his feelings, he could thank her now for doing him the favor. For somebody born poor who still remembered going to sleep on an empty stomach, when success dangled within your grasp, meaningful distractions, however beautiful and romantic they might seem, amounted to speed bumps on the journey, obstacles to overcome.
 

Joshua stood to get her attention. At six feet three inches with a runner’s physique and dressed in a bespoke suit, she’d have to be blind to miss him. Her eyesight hadn’t degenerated. Almost at once, she recognized him and like their last encounter, he grappled with the full meaning of her expression. Never a shy woman, Rebecca walked right up to him.
 

“Joshua,” she said.

“Rebecca.” He brushed a thin kiss on her cheek, breathing in her perfume. Her twenty-nine-year-old self wore a more sophisticated fragrance, but the notes provoked a similar response. Stirring up dormant feelings, her pull seduced him like a siren’s song. Joshua backed away. Their eyes met and for a moment it was like October all over again. “Rebecca, this is Jaime Lincoln. Jaime’s a client.”

“Rebecca Alvey. It’s nice to meet you.”
 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Jaime said, standing to shake her hand, his silver eyes taking her in.
 

“What are you doing here, Rebecca? Visiting family?”

“Yes,” she said.
 

Simple. Direct. Succinct.
 

Time hadn’t betrayed her with even a crease or an evil laugh line. Rebecca smiled at him and he sent his eyes around the room. His gaze wandered back before too long.
 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your dinner.”
 

Yep. Simple. Direct. Succinct. That was Rebecca — when she chose to be.
 

Joshua watched Jaime eyeball his former lover as she climbed the stairs to the second floor where six empty tables lined a balcony overlooking the restaurant. He picked up his menu and perused the appetizers, sipping a potent scotch whiskey. Oysters, lobster, crab, scallops. He let out a heavy sigh and set his drink down. Joshua twisted the glass with his fingers, gazing into the amber liquid.
 

“She’s a good looking woman,” Jaime said. “Maybe after we’re done with my divorce you can give me her phone number.”

Out of the frying pan. Into the fire.

“Unless, of course, there’s something going on between the two of you.”

“Not at all,” Joshua said. He eyed Jaime as he brought the glass to his lips. “She’s the boss’s sister and by definition off limits. Not to mention she’s married to Congressman Alvey.”

Jaime chuckled and slung an arm over the chair back. “Convincing argument, counselor,” he said, “but a woman like that. You had to be tempted?”

“No. Never,” he told him.

Jaime’s eyebrow perked up, but then he returned to his menu. Joshua tugged on his collar and did the same, finishing his drink in a single harsh gulp. The whiskey burned his chest and neck and inflamed his pride.
 

UNCORKING A BOTTLE of wine, he pored over the personal assets of Jaime Lincoln. Joshua crossed out whole paragraphs of the settlement offer sent to him from Emily Lincoln’s lawyer. Scribbling a note inside the margins, he glanced over his shoulder from his seat on the sofa. More of his neighbors turned on their lights since he settled down to work. Lake Michigan shimmered in the foreground, lit up by the sparkling city, and then faded out into a still, black void. Forgetting the entanglements of Emily and Jaime’s shattered lives, Joshua slouched and inhaled a long breath. He blinked when his doorbell rang.
 

Shaking out his arms on the way to his door, Joshua pressed his fingers into a ball of tension building under his left shoulder blade. The knot doubled when Rebecca appeared on his video monitor. For several seconds he stood, frozen in place and watching her primp. He opened the door and leaned on the doorframe.
 

“How did you get my address?”

“My sister gave it to me.”

“Well I guess I won’t feel guilty for asking the firm’s investigator to find out where you’re staying.”

“It’s room 1919 by the way.”

“I know,” he said.

She shook her head and asked, “So can I come in or what?”

Joshua raked his fingers through his hair and let her slink by him. As she moved towards the living room, Rebecca examined his apartment, twirling around as she went. She smirked. His net worth had increased considerably since the last time she woke up in his bed. Compared to his old place… Well, there really was no comparing a studio apartment in a dank basement to a Mag Mile penthouse with undisturbed views of the lake.
 

“Congratulations, Josh.”

“A perk of knowing the right people,” he said.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Rebecca spun all the way around and he noticed her eyes landed on the pile of papers in the living. Once her pirouette was completed, she fixed her brown eyes on him. His eyes were brown too, but darker, nearly black. Rebecca’s sometimes looked green in the right light (usually in a sunrise). At present, it was starry night and in his dimly lit apartment, her eyes were just brown and too intense for him to keep staring into.

“I lied to you before.”

“Which time?” he said, lifting his eyes.

She scratched her head and said, “I was not expecting you to be cruel to me.”

“What were you expecting?”
 

She strolled over to the kitchen and dropped her elbows on the counter. Her wavy hair, just long enough to kiss her shoulders, snaked down her back over the tan leather jacket in her ensemble. A rush of blood traveled through his body. Joshua’s heart raced. His pulse drummed in his ears and the longer he stood near her, the more the truth became apparent. Nothing had changed. It could’ve been ten years or ten minutes, anyone he could have possibly loved would come second to her. The feel of her naked skin, squeezing her breasts and tasting her flesh, the raw, guttural roars of his orgasms. That was all he could think of in the moment.

“I’m moving back to Chicago,” he heard her say.

Inside his chest, his heart thundered. Knots twined in his belly and a withered promise of a dream regained steam, grew ripe and plump with fresh hope. Joshua suppressed the longing. When Rebecca looked back at him, he shrugged and said, “We’re very different people now and it’s a big city. I doubt our paths will ever cross.”

“I don’t want it to be awkward.”

“It won’t be on my account.”

She stepped away from the counter. “Okay. Well, I guess I wasted a trip coming over here then.”

“It doesn’t need to be. Would you like to stay for a drink?”

“No, thank you.” She looked over at the documents on the table. “I get the sense I’m intruding.”

“It just looks daunting, but it’s nothing—”

“Nothing you can’t handle. Yeah, I remember,” she said.
 

Joshua chuckled and an inviting smile broke over Rebecca’s face. It chipped away at his apprehension. From what he remembered, they enjoyed each other’s company outside of the bedroom too. But more than anything else from that time, he remembered being paranoid. All the time. The feeling of dread hounded him. It gnawed at his insides. He irrationally believed Olivia could sniff out her sister’s scent from under his cologne, hair gel and aftershave. He feared reprisals that might stunt his career and destroy careful plans. And now, on the verge of a partnership before his thirty-fifth birthday, he found the prospects of being blacklisted utterly repugnant.

“I can find my way out,” she said.

“Wait. Rebecca, does Olivia know about us?”
 

“Is that all you ever think about? What my sister knows? What my sister thinks about you?”

“Obviously not, but while the answer to my question has no bearing on your life, it can ruin mine even now.”

“She doesn’t know anything all right. I’d never do that to you.”

“Or to Spencer.”

Rebecca frowned and said, “Leave him out of this.”
 

“I wish you had seven years ago.”

She rolled her eyes and took two quick steps toward the gallery. His hand caught her across the stomach, blocking her escape. What now? Apologize? Tell her you loved her? Even after all these years and as crazy as it sounded. What would that get him?
 

Joshua silenced his internal deliberation and told her, “Welcome back, Bex.” It sounded sincere. In a sense it was. “I didn’t tell you the other night, but it was great to see you.”
 

She glanced down at his hand latched on to her. Lifting both hands in the air, palms up, he moved out of her way. “Sorry. Do you need me to call you a cab?”
 

“No, I’ll be fine.” Her spiked heels stamped across his floors, a clear indicating of what she thought of his feeble attempt at an apology. Rather than petering out, the vicious clacking ended abruptly. When he turned, Rebecca stood at the end of the hallway. “I’m getting a divorce, Josh. Olivia doesn’t know that either.”

She strode out of his apartment. A sentimental notion wanted him to chase after her. A force more stubborn than desire rooted his feet inside the living room.

MINDFUL OF THE anxious way he pushed off the balls of his feet, Joshua headed straight for Olivia’s office after his lunch meeting. Two months ago while on a spur of the moment trip to Vegas, he ran into George Kemp, a hedge fund manager hankering for change and betting thousands on a lousy hand at a high-stakes poker table. Acquiring new clients were less complicated than negotiating messy divorces. New clients meant new business, new money, new opportunities. Three things Olivia Norman valued and appreciated. Joshua liked to please his managing partner. And an account the size of Kemp’s guaranteed him an ownership invitation at the next partner’s meeting.