A Note From an Old Acquaintance (33 page)

“Whoa, really? How cool. Did he let you play one of his Juniors?”

“Sure did, the Fifty-six sunburst single-cut. The one he calls ‘Floyd.’ Light as a feather, too.”

“Wow. I really want one of those. The new one’s really suck.”

“Zack!” Joanna said, looking horrified.

The boy shot his mother a guilty smile. “Sorry, Mom.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at Brian, as if to say “Kids!”

“I know what it is for me, but what is it about playing guitar that does it for you?”

Zack leaned forward. “It’s like therapy, you know? I can be sitting there trying to write something and it just won’t come, not for anything. Yet, when I pick up my guitar and start wailing, it’s like my mind switches into another realm, you know? It recharges me. Usually, after a little while, the words start coming again. Then I can’t stop them. The chicks dig it, too.” The boy laughed.

“Exactly,” Brian said, grinning. “How long have you been playing?”

“Four years.”

“If you’ve been at it that long you’ll stick with it. And it’ll be your best friend.”

The food arrived then and the three of them took a few moments to satisfy their immediate hunger before Brian spoke again.

“I reread your story this morning, Zack.”

The boy put his fork down, his attention riveted on Brian.
“I’ve got to tell you honestly that you have a real gift. You have the ability to put the reader right into the hearts and minds of your characters, and that is one of the few things no one can teach.”

“You really liked it?” Zack asked.

Joanna’s heart hammered in her chest.

“Liked it? I was humbled by it, Zack. Now, there were a very few things that you’ll need to be aware of as far as grammar and style, but these are technical issues. Someday they’ll be second nature to you. The important thing is to keep writing...and reading—everything you can.”

“You really think it’s that good, Brian?” Joanna asked.

He turned and regarded her with a tender smile. “He’s got the heart and soul of a true artist. And his mastery of the craft at this age is amazing. He just needs to keep at it. Not let anything distract him from that goal. If that’s what he really wants.”

“It is,” Zack said. “It’s what I really want.”

“Good. Now, if you’d like, we can take a closer look at what I was talking about. You game?”

“Sure!” the boy said.

Brian pulled the printout of the story from his jacket pocket and began going over it, showing Zack how he could revise it.

While Joanna watched the two of them together, she came to a realization, one that had nagged at the back of her mind for the last several weeks, since she’d first e-mailed Brian.

She was still in love with him.

Irrevocably and completely in love with him.

She felt a mixture of both joy and sadness, neither one of them winning the battle for supremacy in her heart. What was she going to do, now that the dies of their lives were so irreversibly cast? She thought of the old movie she’d seen on TV recently,
Same Time Next Year
with Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn. It was a beautiful story about two lovers, married to others, who met every year at the same resort to continue their love affair and share the joys and sorrows of each other’s lives. Could she lead a second life like that? She didn’t know, but a part of her wanted to try—anything to keep this wonderful man as a part of her life.

“...so, it’s really that simple,” Brian said. “Point of view is the most important tool you’ve got.”

“I get it,” the boy said, grinning. He turned to his mother. “Mom, I’ve got to go....” He indicated the area where the restrooms lay.

She got the message and nodded.

“Excuse me,” Zack said, rising.

After he left the table, Joanna covered Brian’s hand with hers. “You don’t know how much I appreciate your helping him. It means the world to him...and to me.”

Brian caressed her hand, then looked off the way the boy had gone. “Please forgive me for asking this, but I have to know. The guitar playing, the writing.... Is he mine, Joanna?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Brian.... No....”

He nodded and the look of disappointment that crossed his face nearly broke her heart. “I—I was pregnant with him when I met you. I didn’t find out I was until after you were gone.”

“How can you be sure he isn’t?”

Joanna looked down at the table. “My husband had a cancer scare a few years ago. They did a lot of tests. He didn’t think one more little blood test would be noticed.”

“Paternity?”

She nodded.

“So, for all those years...before that....”

“I believed he was yours.”

He let out a sigh. “How did you feel when you found out he wasn’t?”

“That I’d lost you again,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. “I wanted to call you back then, so many times.... But I was scared. I left him, Brian.... I moved back in with Marcia—right after you left Boston. But when I started getting sick every morning—”

“You went back....”

“Yes.”

Brian’s eyes locked with hers. There was so much more she wanted to say...and so much she needed to know. Why, then, was she afraid to ask the one question burning in her heart?

She wasn’t going to cry.

She
wasn’t
.

“You know, if my little Joey had lived, I’d want him to be just like Zack.... Joanna...I—” He looked past her shoulder. “He’s coming back.”

She let go of his hand and shifted in her seat, smiling when Zack rejoined them.

Did he see the guilt on her face?

If he did, her son was smart enough not to let on. Joanna looked to Brian and saw that he showed nothing of the emotions that had gone through him moments before. He smiled warmly at Zack. Joanna relaxed.

“Well, I say we should have a little toast,” Brian said, raising his glass of Evian. “May the future never disappoint us.”

For the rest of the meal Brian entertained them with stories of the various celebrities he knew and their secret kinks and quirks. Joanna couldn’t remember laughing so hard. Afterwards, outside the restaurant, there was a moment of awkwardness, as if neither Brian nor Joanna knew what to do next. Zack broke the silence.

“Mom, why don’t you take Mr. Weller back to his hotel?”

Joanna rolled her eyes, feeling foolish. “Of course. Can we give you a lift, good sir?”

Brian bowed low with a flourish and said, “I would be most honored, milady.” His upper-crust British accent was dead-on.

The three of them laughed and began walking toward the street. Zack hung back. “I’ll see you later, Mom, okay?”

“Wait a minute, where are you going?”

“I thought I’d take the ‘T’ and meet Dad at the building. You know he’s been dying to show me around.”

“But you’re only fifteen and I don’t think—”

“Mom, my friends and I have been taking the ‘T’ for years. I’ll be fine. Okay?”

She saw his determination and that subtle pleading look that begged her not to embarrass him in front of Brian. She sighed. “All right, but be careful.”

Zack nodded and turned to Brian. “Thank you again, Mr. Weller. I really appreciate all your advice and your faith in me.”

Brian met the boy’s gaze and smiled. “It’s Brian, and you just keep writing, okay? Don’t ever give up, and you’ll make it.”

The boy grinned and loped off through the arcade.

Neither Brian nor Joanna said much during the ride to the Park Plaza. For once the traffic was light and she found her anxiety growing by the moment. Except for the few other bookstore signings Brian had scheduled, he would soon be leaving town, their time together nearly at an end. The thought of that made her feel as if she might burst into tears at any moment. She fought back wave after wave of emotions, and it took every bit of her will to put on a neutral face. Five minutes later, they pulled into a parking spot adjacent to the hotel.

She turned and found Brian staring at her, smiling warmly. “Kind of feels like a first date, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” she said, letting out the breath she’d been holding, her smile matching his. She took his hand, their fingers interlacing. “I’m so glad you came back, Brian.... I—I’ve missed you....” She looked at him again, lips trembling, her vision blurring with a rush of tears.

Brian’s eyes grew sad. “Please don’t, Joanna, it’s okay—”

Before he could go on, and before she could change her mind, she kissed him. His warm, soft lips melded with hers and Joanna felt as if she might faint, her entire body floating on a pillow of air. Brian pulled away first, the expressions on his face a mixture of guilt and passion.

“I’m sorry,” Joanna said. “It’s still too soon, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, it’s—” He shook his head.

“What is it, Brian? Please, tell me.”

“I loved Penny, I really did, but—”

And suddenly a part of her didn’t want to know whatever it was he was about to reveal. “You don’t have to say this now,” she said, feeling the tears coming on again.

“Yes, I do. I should have fought for you back then, Joanna, with all my might. I should have fought for you. And I didn’t. Instead, I folded my tent and slunk out of town, leaving you...hurting you. And I’ve never forgiven myself.”

Joanna’s heart beat like a jackhammer, her throat as tight as a drum. She could hardly breath. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve said too much already.”

She took his face in her hands. “Wait a minute. There’s something I need to say, too. I’m
still
in love with you. It’s why I e-mailed you after so many years, because you’ve never been far from my thoughts, and I needed to know if what I felt was really true, or just a fantasy. I finally realized how real my feelings were when I saw you and Zack working on his story, I knew it then without a particle of doubt. And nothing you say now about the past will ever change that.”

His eyes grew sad. “Yes, it will.”

“Please, tell me what happened. I can’t bear it any longer.”

He turned and stared out across Arlington Street.

“Please....” she repeated.

He turned back to face her and retook her hand. “You remember, on the phone, when I told you I didn’t love you?”

She nodded, remembering that awful moment as if it had just happened. “I was so devastated, Brian. I wanted to hate you. I really did, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t understand why it was happening. And you just hung up without listening to me. Whatever it was I would have stood by you.”

“But that’s the point, Joanna, you couldn’t.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Joanna, please believe me now when I tell you that I’ve loved you from the very first moment I saw you at the club that night and I’ve never stopped. Never.... All through my life with Penny, you were there in the background, inspiring me, sustaining me. Your belief in me back then is what’s made me the writer I am today.” He paused, and Joanna held her breath. “What I told you that night was a lie, a filthy, despicable lie. And I told it because I had no choice.”

“But, why?”

Brian sighed and shook his head. “After I left your show, your husband sent his errand-boy, Mosley, to follow me home and bring me to his office. Once I was there, he showed me the file he’d put together on me. There were things in there about me that even I’d forgotten about. One of the things it revealed was that my father was on the verge of financial ruin; he owed a total of nearly three-quarters of a million dollars to three different banks.

“Your husband gave me a choice there and then: If I agreed to break it off with you and leave town...he would pay off all my parents’ debts, free and clear. If I refused, not only would I never see you again, he would leave my parents to the sharks and ruin me and my partner in the bargain.” Brian paused, fighting his emotions. “I couldn’t let my parents lose everything they’d spent their entire lives working for. I—I just couldn’t. When I told you that I didn’t love you, I was calling you from his office. He was listening to every word we said.”

Joanna’s mind had gone blank. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t!

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “No, no, no,” she said. “He wouldn’t do something like that. Erik’s a ruthless businessman and that’s something I’ve always known. But this? Please tell me this isn’t true.”

“I wish it wasn’t,” Brian said.

She began to cry, the tears welling out of her eyes the size of small pearls. “I—I need to go— I just really need to go. I’m sorry, Brian, but this is all just too much.”

Brian exited the car and barely closed the door when she sped away, the screech of her tires echoing between the buildings.

30

RUBY
STOOD
AT
THE windows of his new corner office on the penthouse level—the only completed interior space in all the building’s fifty floors—his dark eyes transfixed by the panoramic view of downtown Boston. Sun glinted off the distant State House dome, and mid-afternoon crowds teemed in nearby Fanueil Hall. From this sweeping vantage point he felt the thrumming pulse of the city—a city he was transforming building by building—brick by brick.

Bricks....

His eye’s flicked to the red-brick expanse of Government Center, dominated by the hulking poured-concrete behemoth of City Hall; his lips curled in a knowing smirk. He still marveled at the incredible amount of graft necessary to gain the height restriction variance, the greedy manicured paws outstretched without hesitation or humility. Yet he’d paid it all, gladly, his sleek thousand-foot tower of glass—Ruby Plaza—now standing as mute testament to his master plan. And it was only the beginning.

His recent meeting with the Mayor and the City Planning Committee had yielded the opportunity of a lifetime: the complete transformation of Government Center, a project of immense proportions worth billions, and potentially the crowning glory of his career. The bids were in—the final decision due any day.

Like a proud eagle staring down from its aerie, he watched and calculated, the heady promise of the future stretching out before him. The thrill of it all made his blood sing.

Ruby turned from the view and eyed the décor again, nodding his approval. The massive desk, the last of the Chris Hembree pieces, arrived that very afternoon, and the designer had followed his installation instructions to the letter. It was perfect, looking as if it had always resided there. Still, Ruby missed the Victorian ambiance of his old Newbury Street office, but he’d outgrown it, emotionally, as well as in size and scope. This is where he belonged, now, amongst handcrafted furnishings of polished steel, aluminum, and beveled glass—at the top of his game. The old things would have been out of place.

There was only one holdover.

He glanced at the framed life-sized photo of Joanna now hanging on the wall opposite the desk. The photo still stirred him as it did when he first saw the transparency lying on the photographer’s light table so many years before. It would always have that effect on him, even when she no longer looked this way.

“All for you, Joanna....”

He turned, hearing a sound at the doorway.

“Hi, Dad,” Zack said, smiling shyly.

The boy moved into the room, his eyes wide at the sight of his father’s grand inner sanctum.

Ruby grinned and walked over to his son, giving him a bear hug. “So you decided to come and visit your old man, after all?”

“Yeah,” the boy replied.

“I’m glad. Happy birthday, Son.”

“Thanks. This office is really awesome, Dad.”

“Glad you like it. It’s a bit lonely right now, but that’ll change soon enough, when everyone moves over from the old building. Already have half the floors rented, too.”

Zack nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs, propping his feet on the glass coffee table.

“Zack,” Ruby said, pointing at his son’s feet.

The boy removed them from the table, looking guilty.

“Your mother parking the car?”

“No. She didn’t come.”

Ruby frowned. “She didn’t come? How did you get here?”

“Took the ‘T’.”

“You took what? At your age?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Dad, it’s fine. Like I told Mom, I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Then where is she, Zack?”

The boy’s expression turned sad. “She took Mr. Weller back to his hotel.”

Ruby froze, his mind scrambling to control the fury racing through him. “Zack, why don’t you hang out here for a moment. There are some sodas in the fridge at the wet bar. I need to go check on something, okay? Then we’ll take a little tour, if you like.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Ruby crossed the floor and strode out the door, closing it behind him. In the hallway, he pulled out his cell phone and pressed the STAR key.

“Please state the command,” a synthesized voice intoned.

“Name dial,” he replied.

“Please state the name.”

“Joanna.”

“Did you say...Joanna?”

“Yes.”

“Joanna...connecting.”

The phone rang once.

“Hi, this is Joanna. If you’ve reached this message—”

Ruby pushed the END key, his anger growing. She could have forgotten to turn it on. He’d lost count of how many times she’d neglected to do that over the years. Then again, it also could mean she didn’t want to be disturbed....

He gripped the phone, his knuckles whitening. He wanted to crush it in his bare hands, almost as much as he wanted to crush Weller.

Calm down, calm down. Keep it cool. There’s a better way....

The next number he punched in manually. Mosley answered in record time.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ruby. What can I do for you?”

As always, the black man’s voice had a calming effect.

“It’s time to end this thing, Mr. Mosley. I want you to bring Mr. Weller to the building in an hour. And if my wife’s with him, bring her, too.”

“Understood, Sir. And should he resist?”

“Then do whatever you need to do to persuade him. But I don’t want him hurt. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ruby closed the phone, feeling a weight lifting from him. He had no idea how he’d feel later, but for now his conscience was clear. One way or another, it was ending tonight.

Joanna raced down the Mass Pike, heedless of both the speed limit and her fellow travelers. She kept checking the rearview to see if any state police cruisers might be dogging her, making ready to pull her over. There was only the normal traffic.

She was a mess. What little makeup she wore was streaked and smeared on her face, the tracks of her tears clearly visible.

But inside she felt worse. She still couldn’t believe what Brian had told her. It was so monstrous, so evil. That the man she’d lived with for nearly half her life, the father of her child, could have hidden this side of him from her for all these years....

It
had
to be a lie.

But what if it wasn’t?

Would he be so heartless and cruel as to make up a story like that after all he’d been through? And hadn’t he also confessed his love for her?

Where was the truth?

Could it have been in front of her eyes all this time?

She slammed her hand against the wheel. “No, no, NO!”

Joanna’s tears sprang anew and she used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. She needed to keep calm. She needed to get home. She needed to find the truth.

And she knew just where it lay.

The house was dark when she arrived, which meant that Erik and Zack were still at the building. She screeched to a stop in the driveway, grabbed her keys and threw open the door.

Inside, she punched in the code deactivating the alarm then raced to her husband’s office, going right to the file cabinet. It was a formidable one, made from thick powder-coated steel and designed to withstand a five thousand degree fire for nearly an hour. It had taken four men to move it into the house. All his important papers resided in it...and maybe something else.

She tried the drawers. They wouldn’t budge, not even the slightest play.

At his desk she threw open the drawers, her hands scattering the contents onto the floor.

The key! Where’s the key?

Nothing....

She started to cry again, then stopped.

The studio....

She ran back the way she’d come, passing through the kitchen into the new wing, stopping at the steel door to her studio. She fumbled the keys, her hands slick with nervous sweat. With a growl of anger, she fitted the correct key and yanked the door open. It slammed against the wall, the hollow boom echoing in the room.

Inside was a replica of the studio she’d had in Fort Point Channel, minus the living quarters and kitchen. But all the tools remained, plus some new ones. She went to the drills, selecting a large AC-powered Makita. It was heavier and bulkier than their cordless brethren and had a second handle near the chuck, in addition to the standard pistol grip. It was the only one that had a prayer of getting through that lock. With the drill in-hand, she grabbed a set of diamond-tipped bits, her safety glasses, and returned the way she’d come.

Back in Erik’s office, she uncoiled the drill’s power cord and plugged it into the outlet behind the desk. She flipped the motor direction switch to counter-clockwise, grabbed the chuck with her left hand and pulled the trigger, loosening it just enough for her to insert the half-inch bit she’d chosen. She then switched the motor direction back to clockwise and pulled the trigger again. The drill made a loud ratcheting noise when the bit locked into place.

She was ready.

She slipped on the safety glasses, placed the end of the bit onto the lock housing just above the top drawer and bared her teeth. “Let’s see what there is to see.”

She pulled the trigger and the drill whined. Smoke began pouring from the shallow depression the bit chewed into the lock’s carbide steel. In spite of the power of the drill, it looked as if it was going to be slow going. She stopped, adjusted the torque switch to its maximum, placed it back on the lock and restarted the drill, redoubling her pressure.

The bit screamed when it tore through the metal of the lock, bits of corkscrewed steel spewing from the hole and pattering against her safety glasses. The room began to reek of hot metal.

“Come on, come on!”

The drill bit sank a little further.

Yes! It was going to work!

Two minutes later, the drill pushed forward with a sudden jerk. The lock was gone.

Joanna yanked the drill free of the hole and threw it down onto her husband’s swivel chair, ripped off her safety glasses then pulled open the top drawer.

She found Brian’s file near the back. Unlike the other obsessively neat files surrounding it, the dark blue folder was thick with papers shoved in every which way, as if someone had been looking through it in a hurry. She brought it to the desk, turned on the green-shaded banker’s light and began examining its contents. There were reams of information about every aspect of Brian’s life and that of his parents, all in cold black and white type, just as he’d described them.

And there was one more thing.

Lying at the bottom of the file folder was the agreement between her husband and Brian. Three typewritten pages spelling out just how little she was valued as a person. To her husband, she was nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold.

A cold anger built inside her. Erik had known about her and Brian all along—and never said a word—never dared to confront her. He’d just sat back and watched, watched and waited, until he could spring his scheming little trap, a trap that nearly ruined a man’s life.

And hers.

Tucking Brian’s file under her arm, Joanna went upstairs and peeled off the clothes she’d been wearing and changed into black jeans and a black silk blouse. She’d always loved wearing black, thought it complemented her white skin and red hair. It also simplified a life fraught with stress and ambition. Now, it signified something else, something more funereal.

Downstairs she lingered at the front door, wondering if she would ever return there. Could she ever sleep in her bed again knowing what she now knew about Erik? And what about Zack? Could she allow him to be influenced by such a man? Joanna felt a stab of fear. He was with Erik now. She knew he would never deliberately harm their son. She was sure of that. But what about the subtle things, the things he showed the boy by example? What was Zack learning from that?

No. She couldn’t allow that. She needed to act.

Joanna returned to her car, placing the file on the passenger seat. She turned the key and the engine caught. The dashboard, with its dazzling displays sprang to life, glowing like a Christmas tree. She checked the gas gauge and then the dashboard clock. It was almost 5:00. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.