Eternal by V. Forrest (new reading TXT) 📗

his arms innocently. He was wearing a designer linen shirt that was impeccably smooth, not a wrinkle to be seen. No tie. Entirely too much charm. “I told you why I’m here. Scouting out a new place for my partner and me to set up business. Elective plastic surgery has become a gold mine.”

“So what was wrong with your business in California? Surely not everyone in Southern California has gotten a boob job yet.”

“Fee, you’re such a cynic. So distrustful. Nothing was wrong. Everything was great. So great that we want to expand to the East Coast.”

She didn’t like it when he called her Fee. That name was personal. Private. He no longer had a right to it. Hadn’t in a very long time.

The waiter brought the drinks, but walked away without offering a menu.

“I already ordered the foie gras and feta filo sachets.” He sat back, resting his ankle on his knee. “I told the waiter we would see how things went before ordering the entrées.”

“I don’t think I’ll be staying long enough for an entrée.” Fia leaned forward. “Tell me what’s going on and don’t lie. You’re not a good liar.”

He smiled. “Actually I am, Fee.”

Actually, he was, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “You can’t be here. Not in this city. You agreed with me. We agreed, Joseph.”

“We agreed, we agreed.” He reached for his fresh drink. “Years ago, Fee. We were kids.” He sipped from the glass. Something clear on the rocks. “Can’t we let bygones be bygones? Kiss and make up?”

“There will be no kissing. No making up, Joseph.” She studied his face for a moment. He was very good at blocking his thoughts. It was as if she were standing in front of a brick wall when she tried to read his mind. Mentally, she stabbed at him. It was definitely a wall, but one with the tiniest chink in it…

“What did you do, Joseph?” she hissed.

He blinked. “Do?”

“In LA? Why did you have to leave?”

For the first time since he’d reappeared in her life, she saw a flash of uncertainty on his face. Self-doubt. Maybe even self-loathing.

“Joseph?”

“It was nothing. A misunderstanding,” he said quickly.

“But a big enough one that you had to move across the country?”

“My partner and I really had been discussing opening another office.” He was practically whining when he said it.

“So you’re admitting it. You did do something you shouldn’t have done.”

He met her gaze. “Haven’t we all, Fee?”

It was a direct accusation.

“Oh, come on.” He slid forward, trying to take her hand, resting on the table. “I had a little problem with addiction. But I’m fine now. I’m great. And I’m ready to make a fresh start.”

She pulled away.

“We’re adults. Surely we could live in the same city.”

“We couldn’t,” she insisted.

He caught her hand and she didn’t pull away, not because she wanted him to touch her, but because she didn’t want to cause a scene. Not here, not this close to her office. Not so public. This wasn’t like in a bar where smoke and alcohol made people forget who and what they saw.

“I need you, Fee,” Joseph whispered, holding her hand tightly in his. “I really need you. I’m still in love with you. I swear I am.”

“Do you need help, Joseph? With this addiction? Because I know someone who’s really helped me. She’s an excellent psychiatrist that specializes in this sort of thing.”

“You, a shrink?”

Spotting the waiter approaching with two plates, she slipped her hand out of his and slid back a little in her chair. Joseph served both of them small portions of the foie gras and toasted bread rounds.

“I’m serious,” she said. “I think you should see Dr. Kettleman. I think she could help you. Help you see that the two of us together isn’t going to work.”

“You mean like the two of us go together? Like couples counseling?” He licked his fingers. “The foie gras is excellent, isn’t it?”

Couples counseling was not what she had in mind. What she had in mind was for Joseph to pack up and leave town. Tonight. “I guess that’s a possibility,” she heard herself say. “Do you want me to call Dr. Kettleman? Make the appointment?”

“How about if I think about it?” He winked and then pushed her plate toward her. “You’ve got to try the foie gras, Fee. It’s absolutely lovely.”

Fia didn’t stay in the bistro long enough to order an entrée. She went back to her apartment intending to clean the litter box, change into a pair of boxers, and watch an old movie on TV. But at her apartment, she found herself restless. And before she really had time to think it through, she was getting out of her car in Lansdowne, just blocks from where Casey Mulvine had been murdered.

Dressed in her favorite leather miniskirt and boots because the weather had turned cool, she hit two pubs, then wandered into a little pool hall that was blaring punk music. She took a seat at the bar between a guy with pink hair and another shaved bald. Mentally, she flipped a coin. Pink Hair was the lucky winner…maybe loser. Just depended on how you looked at it.

He said his name was Drummer, which more than likely had something to do with the fact that he pounded the bar top, his leg, her leg, with his fingers. It was nonstop and got pretty irritating by her second tonic. But by then her other candidate, the bald guy, had moved on.

Drummer was drinking shots of vodka. By the time she watched him down his fourth, she knew all about his band, his mother charging him rent to live in his own house, and his cat that had run away last night and he still hadn’t found him. She didn’t feel bad for him, but she did for the cat. Hoped it hadn’t been hit by a car or gotten into a fight with a dog.

Fia didn’t have to suggest they go to his apartment in