The Note by Natalie Wrye (urban books to read .TXT) 📗

“Fee, where are you? If you don’t get your ass here right now, your furniture—what little you do have—is going to be on a New York sidewalk. And have you forgotten how much the homeless piss on anything they can find? Besides, I don’t know if I can hold them off any longer. There’s not a single woman on this moving crew, and I’m not junk-flashing any of these juice heads.”

I sigh, gazing at the watch in my hand.

The very expensive, extremely life-changing, suddenly home-saving watch.

I now know what I need most this morning.

And for the first time since I woke up in this fairytale apartment, it’s not Mr. Big Bad Wolf.

My past is staring at me in the face, and this time? I can’t escape it.

Because people who are broken like me don’t get happy endings after all we’ve done. We ultimately run back to the same habits.

And this was mine.

I can’t save myself from who I used to be. But I can save my apartment.

I end the call with Drew a few seconds later. The second I do, I start looking for a pen and paper.

Chapter 6

NOAH

Saturday morning

“Would you like to leave a note?”

“No.” I rub the skin over my temples, trying to ease the ache building there as I stand in front of the store’s wide double doors. “I would not like to leave a note. Can you tell Mr. Quinn to please come out here? Preferably now?”

The host at the tuxedo shop casts me a curious look, one salt-and-peppered brow shooting sky-high. “I’m sorry, sir,” he croons in an English accent as smooth as red wine. “Mr. Quinn is indisposed at the moment. May I ask who’s calling for him?”

My own eyes narrow. “The other Mr. Quinn. His brother. And I need to see him right now.”

He blinks for a second, recognition dawning in his dark blue eyes. The tuxedo shop employee glances over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, sir.” His eyes meet mine again. “Right this way, Mr. Quinn. Come in, please.”

The tiled lobby just outside of Duffy’s tuxedo shop echoes underneath my Ferragamo’s, just as I cross the threshold. A chill of cold A/C blasts across my skin the second I’m inside, and my eyes can’t help but to skim across the mannequins, the manicured flower arrangements on the mahogany tables placed for every patron to see.

The air reeks with expensive taste, is practically saturated by it. Gold and cream marble stretches as far as the eye can see and though I’m in the presence of pomp and circumstance, of wealth, affluence and thousand-dollar bow ties, for the first time, I feel as if I don’t belong.

Maybe because, in my haste, I’ve driven here in simple denim jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe because my rage is tainting the lavender-scented air of the lobby.

Or maybe it’s because I catch sight of my brother on the far side of the store, clad in a dark, two-thousand-dollar tuxedo, looking every bit of the groom he will be in less than two weeks.

My breath catches in my throat as he turns, looking directly at me. He steps away from the woman at his side currently taking his measurements.

His smile is wide beneath his polished sandy hair.

“Holy hell. I thought I was seeing things at first.” He holds his arms outstretched. “Feels like I’ve seen a ghost. Are you actually here or are you just a mirage?”

I wish I were a mirage.

I walk closer, clapping my hands with my brother, pulling him into a one-armed hug that’s brief. The hair on the back of my neck bristles.

“Nothing imaginary going on here. I called your office.” I sniff, taking a step back from my brother. “Your assistant said you were here.”

“Yeah, I have been.” He leans closer for a second. “For the last two hours. Last minute alterations.” He pats the expensive cloth over his stomach. “Might be all those pre-wedding beers I’ve been throwing back lately.”

Bull. My older brother’s healthier than a steer. I know that nothing but abs of steel lie beneath the thousand-thread fabric, but I ignore the exaggeration, getting to the point even as my phone buzzes in my front jeans pocket, no doubt another text coming in from the private investigator I’ve recently hired.

I swallow. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interfere with your, uh, alterations. But I have some business to take up with you.”

Jase’s sandy brow furrows. “Business. What business? Something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” The lie luckily comes easily off my tongue. “Just want to look into a few things, that’s all. I just was wondering if you had any deals currently in the works?”

His brow creases even further. As if I’m speaking a foreign language. He stares at me. “Deals?”

“Yeah? Real estate deals? You know, for the company…?” I stare harder. “That our family runs?”

“Oh, that.” He shrugs as if the thought has slipped his mind. The lavender in the air sours just a bit more with my anger. I squeeze a fist. “I’ve got nothing else coming in this week, I think. Not since the last two fell through.”

As if I could forget. But then the woman who was doing Jase’s measurements meanders closer, a grin on her thin pink lips as she saunters in. Her blonde hair gleams under the store’s dim lights.

“And this must be the elusive brother Noah you’ve spoken so much about…” She nudges at Jase’s waist. “I was beginning to think he didn’t exist.”

Jase fidgets. “Well, as you can see, Seraphine, he does.” He gestures towards me. “Seraphine, this is Noah, my younger brother. Noah,” he looks over to the woman at his left, “this is Seraphine, my wedding tailor.”

“Your wedding tailor?” I nod, my gaze going to the smiley blonde woman. “A tailor only for a wedding? That sounds…like a lot for something that only lasts a day.”

“Well, who says it only lasts for a day?” The wide-mouthed woman grins, one perfect nail pointed in the air. “A wedding, my dear friend,