Focus (13 page)

T
he next day
, I realized that my life might not have been perfect, by any means, but being with Asher made me feel whole. I was going to have to figure out what everyone was hiding from me, at some point, but, for right at that moment, I didn’t really want to. I was living in a bubble with this elegant, sexy and beautiful man. And that really was where I preferred to stay.

I was in denial, of course. Asher and Scarlett both hinted that there was something that happened during those two years that I lost. Something major. Something that could possibly shatter my world once I found out about it.

And I just wasn’t all that ready to face it.

I was simply happy that Asher didn’t have to work that day. I knew that he would be back at work the next day, so I wanted to savor that time with him. He had a demanding job, I knew, as a CEO of a multi-national company. I would imagine that his life was also very stressful. So, spending the day with him, just having fun, would be something that might be cherished and precious, because it sounded like he didn’t have a lot of time just to goof around.

“What would you like to do today?” he asked me when we woke up. Asher in bed in the morning was just as sexy as Asher at night. His hair was a little bit askew, as he hadn’t yet had the chance to comb it, but, other than that, he was as sexy as he ever was.

“Hmmm,” I said. “Maybe…” And then I kissed him. My body was still craving his. It was almost something that was uncontrollable, how much I wanted to have him inside of me again.

He was kissing me back, his erection immediately standing at attention. He climbed on top of me, rolled on a condom, and immediately started to thrust into me, making me moan and scream. “We can do this all day, CJ,” he said. “If you want.”

“Oh, I want. I want.” Sensory overload was the best way to describe the way I was feeling with him thrusting into me, over and over again. I wanted to devour him completely. I wanted us to be melded into one another, so that I never had to leave him. And I wanted, more than anything, to cling to him. Because I had this feeling that there would come a time, sooner than I would have hoped, when I was going to have to cling to him. Or cling to somebody.

The shit was about to hit the fan, and I wanted to make sure that Asher was there to pick up the pieces.

He was insatiable once he got going. And I felt the same.

He felt amazing. I raised my hips to receive him deeper into me, and he was buried so deeply that I felt that I would pass out from the excitement of having him inside of me that way.

He was kissing my breasts, tonguing one breast and then the other. He thoroughly covered my nipples with his gorgeous tongue, and I moaned again. Another orgasm was about to burst out of me, when he abruptly stopped. “I want to tease you some more,” he said as he pulled out of me. “I want you to be so wet and satiated that you’re going to beg me to put my dick inside of you again.”

And teasing was just how I felt about it. He flipped me over on my stomach, and his tongue was in my ass. Then he swirled a couple of fingers in there, while his other hand was massaging my clit. He certainly did an amazing job of this, and I felt like I needed to have him inside of me again. Then he started to lick my thighs, while I felt the blood rush to my pussy, which started to throb in rhythm to his insistent tongue.

I bucked up my stomach, getting on all fours. He thrust his cock inside of me briefly, but then removed it again. “Stop teasing me,” I said. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

“You will,” he said, “just like you felt my dick inside of you so many times last night. But just relax, CJ. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

I couldn’t believe how sensual this guy was. How erotic he made me feel. He had such skill in his tongue. He knew exactly how gently I wanted it, and he knew to alternately use much more force and command.

He finally gave it to me again, with his enormous manhood plunging deeply into me again and again. He was behind me, and I was on my side, and he gently brought my face around and kissed me full on the mouth.

With a groan, he signaled his orgasm. I felt another orgasm at the same time.

“Oh, Asher,” I said. “That was fucking amazing.”

He smiled and then rolled on top of me. He kissed me some more, and then said. “We should probably get moving. There’s a city out there that is waiting for us to conquer.”

“There certainly is,” I said. “Let’s go to the Zoo, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

S
o
, we did.
We went to the Zoo, and Central Park and then had dinner at one of the fanciest places in the city. I was getting to know this guy all over again, and he seemed like an amazing person. I tried not to discount his past, of course, but that was all in the past. God forbid he judge me on my past. I had a history of poor judgment.

Of course, my poor judgment didn’t necessarily extend to criminal activity, as his possibly did. I needed to find out more about what he did in the Russian mob before I decided to become more serious with him.

Over dinner, I decided to go ahead and bring all of that up. “Okay, so Asher,” I began. “First of all, I have to say that I’ve had a great time with you. But you’ll have to tell me more about your past life. I’m not entirely sure that I should be involved with you if you’re into illegal activities now.”

He smiled. “I’m not into any illegal activities now,” he said. “And I haven’t been since I left Russia. I’m a completely legitimate businessman here.” Then he paused. “But I do give money to my old group. It’s strictly money that is in my personal account, though. I do not now, nor have I ever, funneled company money to this group or any other group.”

“But you mentioned when I first woke up that you thought that I might be in danger if I got involved with you.”

He looked shy. “Actually, CJ,” he said. “The only danger might come if you marry me. There is a code of ethics, believe it or not, that most mafia people follow. And that is that the son of a godfather is somebody who is not to be touched, unless you want to start a war. And nobody wants to start a war with my syndicate, because it is one of the most powerful in Russia, and its tentacles stretch all over the world. Nobody will touch me.”

I took a deep breath. “But your wife would be a different story? These men might get to me, if we, uh, got married, but not you?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Not if my father gives you protection as well. That’s crucial. Without his blessing, then I could never marry you. I know that this entire conversation seems premature to you right now, and I’m sorry if it does. But this all must be addressed, because I do feel things for you that I’ve never felt for any other woman. But the men who would like to fuck with me because of the things that I did when I was in Russia know that they could reach me by taking away the person who means the most to me, which would be the woman I marry. That’s why it’s crucial to get the blessing of my father if….things between us become more serious.”

I cocked my head. “I really feel strongly for you as well,” I said. “But I was wondering why you felt the things you’re feeling for me?”

He looked uncomfortable about that question. “You and I have things in common. Our wounds are the same. I know you don’t remember about all that, and I wish that I could tell you more, but Scarlett is supposed to be the one who is to tell you about what happened to you.”

An icy feeling flashed through me when he said that. There was something wrong, something seriously wrong. Something that I had no recollection of. I had a feeling that there was just something devastating that was going to be revealed.

And I wanted to avoid that. Needed to avoid that. As it was, I had a pit in my stomach that was forming, and I felt like getting sick.

I took a deep breath. “What wounds do you have?”

“I can’t go into that,” he said. “Not until you know about what happened to you. I wish that I could tell you, but Scarlett and I agreed that she would be the one who would break the news. She’s the person you remember and love. I’m the stranger that you’re getting to know.”

I tried to shake off the feeling that I had. The feeling that my life was about to be turned upside down.

“Okay,” I said. I suddenly didn’t want to know what the big secret was. “Let’s talk about something else.”

We chatted for the next few hours about fluffy things. I wanted to carefully avoid the dark cloud that was looming over my head, ever since Scarlett looked so serious and tried to sit me down to tell me something.

For just a little while longer, I wanted to pretend that this reality – where I was loved by this wonderful man, and had the entire world in front of me, was the only reality there was.

A
sher
and I spent the rest of the weekend together, just getting to know one another. I had to admit that it was one of the most blissful of my entire life. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that a guy like that would be going for a girl like me, but, once I accepted that, it was so nice being with him. He was such a gentleman and such an amazing lover.

I knew that it all wouldn’t last.

And was I right about this.

A
sher dropped
me off Monday morning
at my place. He kissed me goodbye, and promised to call me later on that evening, after he got off of work. He explained that he was in the weeds at work, and would be working late, but he wanted to make sure that I was doing okay, so he was going to be sure and call me.

“And I have to fly to DC Wednesday,” he said. “Perhaps you would like to come with me?”

I smiled. “I’ve never been there before,” I said. “It sounds like a lot of fun, though. I love the idea of going to the Smithsonians, and visiting all the museums and the Supreme Court building and all of that.”

“Next month the cherry trees will be in bloom,” he said. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen that. I go there regularly, so hopefully you can accompany me next month as well.”

“But I think that I have to see about my job,” I said. “Scarlett told me that I’m working for a magazine. She hasn’t told me which one, though.”

“You have a job as a photojournalist with
The Village Voice
,” he said. “I think that’s a new job, though.”

Again, he seemed uncomfortable when he told me about my job. “
The Village Voice,
” I said. “Go, me. I would imagine that I need to at least check in with them so that they know that I’m alive.”

“Scarlett has been talking to them, keeping them apprised of your condition,” he said. “They know what happened to you. So, don’t worry about losing that job.”

“At any rate,” I said. “I think that I need to talk to them before I go off gallivanting with you to DC. Although I have to admit that’s a tempting offer, to say the very least.”

“Think about it,” he said, kissing me. “I would love for you to come with me.”

“I’ll definitely be thinking about it,” I said with a smile. “Definitely.”

W
hen I got
into the apartment,
the first thing I did was look at my email. I had to admit that I was living in a bubble with Asher this past weekend. He went out of his way to make sure that I had anything and everything that I absolutely wanted and needed, and being catered to and pampered like that was something that I wasn’t at all used to.

But I knew that I could very well get used to it.

Easily.

I felt sated and elated. Completely alive. When I came out of my coma, I lost two years of my life. And I had no idea who that beautiful man by my bed was. But I soon found out that he was, quite possibly, the person I had been looking for my entire life. I just felt that in my bones.

He had a dark past, but it seemed that it wasn’t necessarily in his present. And his father could protect me if things between him and I got more serious. I should have been freaked out about that, but I wasn’t. I felt safe with him, safer with him than I had ever felt before.

I logged onto the computer, and I saw an email from an unfamiliar person.

Her name was Emily.

Curious, I got into the body of the message.

And my blood ran cold.

I
read the email
, my heart in my throat:

T
o
:
CJ Parks

Subject:
Hey, you! It’s Emily!

H
ey CJ
! It’s Emily!

Long time, no hear. Anyhow, I’m finally out of the hospital! It’s been a long, grueling 9 months of my life, but I’ve finally faced down my demons and am ready to face life on my own terms. I never thought I could do it, but, with your help, and the help of the awesome people here at the hospital, I’ve turned a corner.

I’d love to meet for a drink with you sometime. I’d only drink soft drinks, of course, but I would really like to get together with you. Just let me know the time and the place, and I’ll be there.

I
stared
at the email dumbly. Who was Emily, and how did she know me? She was in the hospital, but why? I must have also been in the hospital with her.

Why was I in the hospital?

I wracked my brains about this one. I knew that Emily and I didn’t meet during this last time I was in the hospital. I was in a coma, for God’s sake. There’s no way that I could have met her then.

I tapped my fingers on my desk. Emily held the key to what happened to me. What Asher was hiding from me. What I was letting Asher hide from me, because, let’s face it, I didn’t exactly pry it out of him.

I tried to think. Should I just wait until Scarlett got home, and then ask her about this? I had no idea when she would be home. The last time her mother put her back out, Scarlett had to stay with her for a week. Her father was away on business, so her mother had nobody else to stay and help her do things around the house.

No. I had to see Emily. Whoever she was.

With a deep breath, I wrote back.

H
ey Emily
!

Sure, I’d love to see you, too! Let’s meet at The Ear Inn tonight at 8. Hope that works for you!

I
felt somewhat
bad offering to meet her at a SoHo place, because I had no idea what part of the city she would be coming from. This place was within walking distance from my apartment.

But that couldn’t be helped. I wanted to be close to my apartment, in case I found out something completely devastating from this Emily person.

I had a feeling, a sinking feeling, that this was exactly what was about to happen.

I braced myself for this meeting.

E
mily answered
me back almost immediately.
Eight o’clock would be fine with her, and she loved that place for its food and casual atmosphere.

I felt relieved, yet apprehensive all at once.

I wanted to call Asher, for some odd reason. I had this feeling that I was going to need him near me when I saw Emily. I texted him, and he texted back. It was only a casual text, though, each way. I asked how he was doing, he said he was fine, and how was I? I texted that I also was fine, and didn’t mention the fact that I would be meeting with this Emily person that evening.

I had no idea why I didn’t bring that up. I should have. But I didn’t want to bother him that much. It seemed that he had a lot on his plate. Testifying in front of Congress was a huge deal, and it could really impact his business. So, there wasn’t a need for me to interject myself into all of that.

E
ight o’clock rolled around
, and I anxiously walked to this bar. I had no idea who I would be looking for, but I would imagine that she would be looking for me.

I was right. I got there, and a girl about my age was standing up, waving at me. I headed over to her, and she gave me a huge hug. “Oh, CJ,” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”

I took a huge breath. “You too.” I looked at her a bit more clearly. She was super-thin, and had long, straight brown hair. She was a pretty girl, about my same age. She didn’t necessarily look like somebody who had been in a hospital for nine months, but, then again, what does a girl who was in the hospital for nine months supposed to look like?

“I ordered you a beer,” she said. “I hope that I’m not being presumptuous.”

“Not at all,” I said.

“I remember you mentioned how much you liked Blue Moon,” she said, as she handed me a large glass of beer that had an orange slice on the rim.

“I do love that type of beer,” I said. This was so uncomfortable for me. She obviously felt that I was an old friend, and she was literally a stranger. But she had answers for me, and I was going to find them out.

It was time. I didn’t want the answers from Asher, just because I didn’t want to ruin our blissful time together. But now I knew that there was no escaping what was going on.

I took a sip of my beer. “Okay,” I said. “I have to make a confession.”

“Go on,” she said, sipping her seltzer water. “This is all I drink, by the way. I can’t stand pops and all of that. It’s so funny, I was a drug addict, so I was poisoning myself for all those years. Now I don’t want to put anything horrible in my body. That would include rot gut stuff.”

I nodded my head. This was a new clue. She was a drug addict.

I was startled. Was I, too, a drug addict? Was I in rehab with her? That was totally unlike me, because I tried never to do any drug harder than marijuana. And I didn’t even smoke pot all that much.

Something had to have gone seriously wrong if I turned to drugs.

I began again. “What I’m about to say will seem kind of weird to you. Believe me, it all seemed surreal to me as well. But I was in an accident a few weeks ago, and I’ve lost two years of my life. I woke up from an induced coma believing that this is 2013. I thought I was still in school and still dating a guy named Donny. Actually, I have graduated college and I’ve been working for
The Village Voice
as a photojournalist. And I’m dating this amazing guy named Asher Sloane.”

She was quiet. “Oh.” She looked completely uncomfortable. “Then you don’t remember me, then, do you?”

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t. But I feel that you have answers for me. Answers that have been difficult getting out of other people. I must have been in the hospital with you at one time. Why was I in there, and why were you in there?”

“Oh, CJ,” she said. “I’m so sorry to hear about your accident. If I would have known, I never would have contacted you. It must be horrible to hear from me, knowing that you were in the mental hospital for six weeks last fall.”

I gulped. I shook my head. “The mental hospital? I don’t understand. I’ve never had mental problems. I mean, I’m so sorry, because I know that you’re dealing with something awful. I would like to learn more about that. But that’s not me. I’ve had an amazing life. I’ve never had emotional problems like my mother. And apparently my father.”

It sunk in, though. I had never met my father. My mom never talked much about him, but I did understand that he was a drunk. Maybe he was self-medicating? Maybe he was suffering from profound mental problems? My mother always had been. She was diagnosed variously with all kinds of personality disorders, from narcissistic personality disorder to possible borderline personality disorder. The doctors could never get a correct diagnosis for her. There was always something wrong with her, though. I loved her, for all of her flaws, but she was always just a little bit left of center.

Perhaps genetics had caught up with me? Did I have some kind of a breakdown? I must have. But over what? What would cause something like that to happen?

“CJ,” she said. “I can’t be the one to tell you about all of that. Especially since you don’t remember me. But I will say that you and I bonded, very much, in the hospital. Before you got there, I was despairing that I would ever get better. But you and I talked every night for hours, and I was really able to let my feelings out with you. Because you understood what I was going through. And I understood you as well.” She paused, looking at her glass of seltzer. “I really just wanted to thank you. And I hoped that maybe you and I could be friends now.”

“Emily,” I said. I was warming up to her. She seemed so kind and level-headed. I knew that she had problems, obviously, but she did seem like somebody that I would like to have in my life. “I would love to be friends with you, too. I would like to get to know you. But I really need for you to tell me why I was in the hospital with you. There’s something going on. My roommate was going to tell me, then she had an emergency, and she didn’t get around to it. Then my boyfriend didn’t tell me, because, quite frankly, I didn’t really want him to. I wanted to savor my time with him, and not think about anything really serious.”

My heart was in my shoes, though. There was a large part of me, probably 90% of me, that didn’t really want Emily to tell me anything.

Could I remain in denial for a little while longer?

She looked at me, as if she was contemplating telling me. But then she shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m so sorry.”

I nodded my head. Perhaps I could try a different tact. I could find out her story, find out why she was in the hospital. Then it could provide me a clue on why I was there as well.

That seemed like a decent plan. A clue would be a way to slowly, slowly get at the devastating news that nobody seemed to want to tell me. That seemed to be a better way of finding out then finding it all out at once.

Ripping off the bandaid sometimes was a good idea, sometimes not. In this case, I thought that the bandaid approach wouldn’t be the best thing in the entire world.

“Why were you in the hospital?” I asked her.

She took a deep breath. “I was a drug addict for six years. I had a son. I loved him so much. But, I have to admit, that I loved the needle more. I will say that I used just enough to get me through the day most of the time. I was a functioning addict for the most part.”

“A functioning addict?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was able to care for my son, in other words. And I was lucky. I didn’t have to work, and I only had to care for him, because my father is extremely wealthy. I was in college, though, studying law. My goal was to have my own firm someday, doing criminal defense and helping out the downtrodden. I was even ahead a few grades, because I graduated college when I was only 19.”

“And you were able to get through school okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was. I was in my last semester. You have to understand, addicts aren’t always the junkies you imagine. Living on the streets, prostituting themselves for a fix. They’re often people that you would never dream of. People who seemed to have it all. People like me.”

“I think that’s true,” I said. “I’ve never known any addicts, but I’m never one to judge. Anyhow, go on with your story.”

She nodded her head, and tears came to her eyes. “I was functioning for the most part. But sometimes I went on a bender. I don’t even know why, but that was just how it was sometimes. It’s like a functioning alcoholic. They drink to get through the day, but sometimes they drink to excess and get sloppy and kill somebody behind the wheel. Just like that, there were times when I would shoot up to excess and not know what the hell was going on. And sometimes it would hit me late, so I would start out feeling normal, but, just like that, I would pass out.”

I was silent, letting her get it all out.

“This was so hard for me to talk about. And I couldn’t talk about it, much, until I met you in the hospital. You were so open, and willing to share. You inspired me to do the same.”

“What exactly was so hard for you to talk about?” With every word she said, I had a feeling of sinking further and further into a pit. Because whatever it was she was going to tell me, I had a similar story that I told her. A part of me wanted to stop her, right then and there. Not to tell me why she was in the hospital for all those months, because, if she told me her story, she would be indirectly telling me mine.

She was silent for a long time. She started to cry, and I put my hand on hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ve come to terms with it, finally. I’ve even worked hard on forgiving myself. But I still have a hard time talking about it without breaking down into tears.” She lifted up her chin, her green eyes absolutely filled with heartbreaking tears.

“Go on,” I said softly. “You need to get it out, whatever it is.”

“But CJ,” she said. “If I tell you what happened to me, you’re going to sort of know what happened to you. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

I nodded. “I don’t really want to, because I’m not so sure I’m ready to put the pieces together on what happened to me just yet. But it needs to happen. So, please, go on.”

She took another deep breath and drank some more of her water. “I took my son to a playground one day. I had gotten high before I took him, and I guess I didn’t really know how high I was. As I said, there was sometimes a delayed reaction with me. I thought I was okay, but I really wasn’t.” Another deep breath. “I passed out on the playground with him. Nobody noticed, I guess, because I was under a tree, drifting off out of view, really, of the other mothers and the kids. A man took my child, CJ. I came to, and he was gone. And he has never been found.”

I gasped involuntarily. “Oh, my God,” I said. “That’s horrible. That’s the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone.”

“Yes,” she said. “And I really didn’t know what had happened, even when I came to. I was still high, and the whole thing seemed surreal. The police questioned me, and I didn’t know what to tell them. They questioned everyone around that playground, and only one mother saw what had happened. There really weren’t that many people there, unfortunately – just two other children and their mothers. One of those mothers wasn’t paying much attention, but the other saw the man who took him and I guess she thought that he was my child’s father.”

“Did they ever catch the guy?”

“No,” she said. “They never did. They did an Amber Alert and everything, and did a police sketch. He must have been wearing a disguise, or something, because it’s been nine months now, and there’s been no information about Shane at all.”