Reasonable Doubt 3

  “Did you spit in it?”

  “I should have.” She picked up her bag and rushed past me, heading for the exit.

  A part of me actually wanted to go after her and make her explain what the hell she meant about “not doing this anymore,” but I knew doing so would be pointless. Talking to her for less than three minutes aroused me, and I needed to remember why I ended “us” in the first place.

  I returned to the break-room and said thank you to the last of the interns, glancing at the photo HR had pinned on the wall. It was a collage of my professional photos with a birthday hat sticker attached to my head. And they’d written “Happy Birthday, Andrew! GBH Loves You!” in bright blue.

  In all actuality, my birthday was months from now—in December, a day I hadn’t celebrated in a very long time. And even though I’d never publicly admit it, I somewhat liked the fact that the people at GBH were willing to celebrate my birthday—real or not.

  “How many slices of cake would you like me to wrap up for you, Mr. Hamilton?” Jessica tapped my shoulder.

  “Three,” I said. “And I’ll take a cup of lemonade, too.”

  “You’re not going to stay for the “Who Knows Mr. Hamilton the Best” game?”

  “None of you know me.” I returned to my office and locked the door, setting the new birthday gifts on top of my bookshelf.

  The envelope from Mr. Greenwood contained a note that said he appreciated my hard work and dedication to the firm. Beneath his written words was a gift card to his family’s other multimillion dollar entity: A golf course.

  The gifts from the interns were all “I.O.U.” letters that begged for extra time on their assignments. I held all of those over my shredder.

  Jessica’s black box was next, and as much as I wanted to throw it away and never think of it again, I couldn’t resist knowing what she bought me. I took the top off and removed the paper, pulling out a soft piece of silk and a note:

  I overheard that you like to keep these in your pocket… Here are mine. PS—I took them off in the bathroom five minutes ago

  :-)

  Jesus…

  I buried her panties at the bottom of my trashcan and crumpled that note.

  I stared at Aubrey’s silver box for a while, wondering if I should wait until later to unwrap it, but I couldn’t help peeling off the paper.

  Inside of the box was a small black photo frame. It was handcrafted—bordered with iron pressed images of pointe slippers, law scales, and the words “Alyssa” and “Thoreau” in smooth white letters.

  The picture in it was one of us, one of her laying against my chest in my bed and smiling at the camera. Her cheeks were flushed red—like they always were after sex, and she was dressed in one of my T-shirts.

  I remembered her forcing me to take that photo—insisting that she “wouldn’t share it with anyone” and only wanted it for herself. She even forced me to smile…

  I set the frame down and took out the other object in the box—a sparkling silver watch with an inscription etched across its back:

  Subject: You.

  I liked you as “Thoreau,” but I love you as Andrew.

  —Aubrey (Alyssa)

  My glass of wine sat untouched at Arbors Restaurant, and the candles in the centerpiece were shedding sheets of their wax onto the table.

  I was expecting a date any moment now, but I couldn’t stop staring at the watch Aubrey gave me. She’d clearly thought about each and every part of the design; no element was by mistake.

  I noticed two interlocking A’s in the corner of its screen, and earlier, in the sunlight, I’d noticed that my name was etched on the edge of its frame.

  “Are you Thoreau?” A woman’s voice interrupted my thoughts, making me look up.

  “I am.”

  She smiled and took the seat across from me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a regular here and the waitress asked if I’d be having my usual when I arrived. I told her you would have the same.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” A small feeling of guilt welled inside my chest, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from pursuing what I needed tonight: Pussy. ASAP.

  The waitress placed two steamed dishes in front of us, and I checked the time. I was only giving this woman one hour.

  “So, what type of cases do you normally handle?” she asked.

  “Corporate for the most part, but I’ve done government and tax as well.”

  “Interesting. Have you lived in Durham long?”

  “Too long.”

  “And is this your normal M.O.?” She leaned back in her chair, dragging her nails against her see-through top. “One night stands?”

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “It never is.”

  I raised my eyebrow and looked her over. She was actually quite appealing—long blond hair, curvy figure, and perky breasts.

  Physical attributes aside, we seemed to have a lot in common. She was a real lawyer in the next county over, she read most of the same books, and from what she’d told me over the phone, we shared a comparable sexual appetite.

  Our entrees came and went, the conversation plodded along, but Aubrey’s watch still had a part of my attention.

  “Is something bothering you?” My date waved her hand in front of my face. “I remember you being a lot more talkative over the phone.”

  “I’m fine.” I waved the waiter over for the check. “Just tired.”

  “Too tired to fuck?”

  “I’m never too tired to fuck.”

  Blushing, she crossed her legs and leaned over the table. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

  I didn’t respond. I simply signed the check and stood up, holding out my hand for her.

  We walked through the hotel lobby and straight for the elevators.

  The second the doors closed, she pressed her lips against mine and threaded her fingers through my hair.

  “Fuck…” I groaned as one of her hands slid down to my belt.

  She moved her mouth down my neck as we ascended to the top floor, grazing her teeth against my skin. Moaning, she gasped as I gripped her waist and kissed her back—controlling her tongue with mine.

  I pulled the band away from her ponytail and tossed it to the floor. I closed my eyes and deepened our kiss—torturously biting her lip as she tried to pull away.

  Sliding her knee between my legs, she unfastened my belt and tugged at my zipper. “How long are we going to fuck tonight?”

  “As long as you want.” I palmed her breasts through her shirt, slipping a hand underneath her bra.

  “Ahhhh…” She murmured as I caressed her nipple.

  The elevator doors slid open quickly, but our bodies remained entwined as we found our way to the suite. Her lips latched onto mine again as we stumbled into the room—bumping into the lamps and the dressers.

  She was moaning louder now, barely controlling herself as I unzipped her dress and unclasped her bra.

  I felt her hands at my waist—pushing my pants to the floor, and when my back hit the wall, I realized she was on her knees in front of me.

  Leaning forward, she rubbed her hands up and down my cock, asking me to tell her how badly I wanted her mouth on me.

  “I don’t…” I shook my head as I realized I had been fantasizing about Aubrey the entire time.

  “You’re not even going to beg for it?” She smiled, bringing her head closer.

  “Stop.” I grabbed her by her hair and gently pushed her away.

  “Is something wrong, Thoreau? Did you want to do me first instead? Should I get on the bed or the chair?”

  I couldn’t make out the rest of her questions; images of Aubrey were clouding my brain, invading all my senses. And the more I stared at this woman, a woman who was nowhere near as beautiful as Aubrey, the more I felt my cock softening.

  Fuck…

  I pulled my pants up and zipped the fly. “I no longer feel like fucking you. You can leave.”

  “Excuse me
?” She sucked in a breath and crossed her arms. “What did you just say?”

  “I said that I don’t feel like fucking you.” I spoke slowly. “And that you can leave. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  “You’re going to put me out? Just like that?”

  “Would you like me to reserve another room for you?”

  “What happened to the man I met online?” She stood up. “Was that all a front? Is this some type of game where you take out women, say sexy things you’ve probably read off the internet, and then make them get naked knowing damn well that you don’t know how to fuck?”

  “I definitely know how to fuck.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “I just don’t feel like fucking you.”

  “I can’t…I can’t believe…” Her jaw dropped. “You’re a fucking asshole!”

  “Asshole? Yes. Fucking? Unfortunately not. Can you make sure that the door is completely closed on your way out?”

  She pulled her dress over her body and picked up her purse. “I’m putting a flag next to your profile on Date-Match. And you know what else? I’m going to leave a review of our encounter, too. I’m going to make sure—”

  “Do you normally talk as you get dressed?” I cut her off and took a seat on the bed. “I’m pretty sure it’s something that doesn’t require conversation.”

  Fuming, she slipped into her shoes and rushed out of the room—slamming the door behind her.

  I waited until I heard the ping of the elevator and lay across the mattress. I tried my best to think of something or someone other than Aubrey, but she was all that came to mind.

  What the fuck is happening?

  I stared at the ceiling for another hour, unable to take my mind off of how her mouth felt against mine at the office earlier today. Even if it was only for a few seconds.

  Needing to get to the bottom of this, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called her.

  “Hello?” She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Why did you buy me that watch, Aubrey?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t, but I read the inscription on the back.”

  Silence.

  “I need to ask you something,” I said.

  “Only if I can ask you a few things first…”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How can you possibly be so adamant about honesty when you haven’t been completely honest with me?”

  “I have been completely honest with you.”

  “I’m starting to believe that your name isn’t really Andrew Hamilton…”

  “So you’re still stalking me and my past online? Do you not have any other hobbies?”

  “Who is EH?” Her voice cracked. “Why are those two letters hanging on all your walls? Why are they engraved in all of your cufflinks?”

  “Aubrey…”

  “What’s going on with you and Ava? I saw her walk out of your office last week, and she smirked at me.”

  “Is this a bad time to talk?”

  “Yes.” She was breathing hard. “This is a very bad time. Why don’t you just hang up and go to the Marriott so you can fuck someone else?”

  “I am at the Marriott, and I was actually about to fuck someone else.”

  She was silent for several seconds. “I don’t… I don’t want to hear from you anymore, Andrew.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “I said I don’t want to hear from you anymore. Don’t you ever fucking call me again.” She hung up.

  Impasse (n.):

  The inability of two parties to reach a negotiated settlement.

  A few days later…

  Aubrey

  My heart was still aching—reeling, and although I’d told Andrew never to call me again, and that I didn’t want to hear from him, I couldn’t move on until I received an apology.

  I needed it…

  I felt sick to my stomach after giving him that watch, and I’d foolishly expected for him to call and say, “I love you, too,” but he acted as if it meant nothing.

  Without knocking, I opened the door to his office and shut it behind me.

  He raised his eyebrow as I stepped over to his desk, but he didn’t hang up his phone.

  “Yes, that will be fine,” he spoke into the receiver.

  “I need to talk to you.” I blurted out. “Now.”

  He motioned for me to take a seat, but he continued talking. “Yes. That will work as well.”

  I sat and crossed my arms, trying not to stare at him too hard. He was utter perfection today—looking more fuck-able than usual with a fresh hair-cut and a brand new grey suit. His eyes regarded me intensely as usual, and I noticed he was actually wearing the watch I gave him. He’d even paired it with matching cufflinks.

  Maybe I’m overreacting after all…

  “Right…” He leaned back in his chair and typed a few things onto his keyboard. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock tonight, Sandra. Room 225.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “Something I can help you with, Miss Everhart?” He hung up the phone. “Is there any reason why you barged into my office without knocking?”

  “You’ve fucked someone else already?”

  “Is that a serious question?”

  “Did you fuck someone else already? Did you?”

  “Would it matter?”

  “Yes, it would fucking matter…” My blood boiled as I stood up. “Did you sleep with someone else?”

  “Not yet.” He narrowed his eyes at me and stood up too, walking over to me. “However, I really don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

  I looked at his wrist. “Why are you wearing that watch if you don’t feel the same way I do?”

  “It’s the only watch that matches my new cufflinks.”

  “Are you seriously this blind?” There were tears welling in my eyes. “Are you—”

  “I told you a long time ago that I don’t do feelings—that if we ever did fuck, that would be the end of us.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “However, I do realize that by crossing the line with you, personally and professionally, that a percentage of the blame is mine.”

  “A percentage?”

  “Would you like me to bring in the firm’s accountant? I’m sure he can work out the exact figure.”

  “Andrew…” I was on the verge of losing it.

  “Since we did break the boundaries, and we were in fact friends before, I’m willing to revert to that arrangement.”

  I shook my head as he tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes.

  “We can still talk on the phone at night,” he said. “You can tell me about your ballet, your parents, your life…And, to be sensitive to your feelings, I’ll tell you about my life but I’ll leave out my one night stands until you’re completely over whatever the hell you think we had.”

  “I told you that I loved you…” The words rushed out of my mouth.

  “I told you that you shouldn’t have.”

  “You can’t really be this callous and cold of a person, Andrew…”

  “What do you want me to say, Aubrey?” His tone changed. “Your pussy was so magical that it opened my eyes and made me want to change all my ways for you? That I can’t live or breathe without knowing that you’re by my side? Is that what you’re expecting me to say?”

  “No.” I tried not to cry. “A simple apology for—”

  “Kicking your inquisitive ass out of my apartment?” He was glaring at me. “For trying to prevent you from feeling like you do right now? Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

  I resisted the urge to spit in his face and stepped back. I officially despised him. “You are so not the man I thought you were.”

  “Good, because I’m sure that man is quite pathetic.” He briefly shut his eyes and sighed. “Look, Aubrey…”

  “It’s Miss Everhart.” I hissed as I walked toward the door. “Miss. Fucking. Everhart. But not to worry, you’ll never have to worry about using it because you w
on’t be seeing me again.”

  I slammed the door so hard it rattled the windows on the other side of the hall. I ignored the suspicious look from Jessica as I stormed to the parking lot, and sped all the way to the bank.

  I withdrew every dollar out of my savings account, and called the bus depot downtown—asking what the fare was for a one-way ticket to New York City.

  “That would be seventy nine eighty six,” the operator said. “It’s ten dollars cheaper if you buy a roundtrip ticket.”

  “I won’t be needing a round trip ticket.” I steered my car into my apartment’s lot. “Can you tell me when the next bus leaves?”

  “Tonight. Would you like me to book that for you now?”

  “Absolutely.” I recited my credit card info from memory, and listened as she told me about how I needed to take a walk on the Brooklyn Bridge whenever I had the chance.

  The second I hung up, I arranged for a cab and sent a quick text to my roommate:

  Something has come up and I have to move out ASAP…I’ll be wiring my half of the remaining rent to our landlord, and I’ll find a way to have my belongings shipped to me. I’m leaving my keys under that rose plant in the laundry room—Aubrey.

  Grabbing two large suitcases from my closet, I stuffed them with whatever I could find, and placed Mr. Petrova’s recommendation letter into my purse.

  As I was writing myself a reminder (“That asshole still has my panties…Need to shop for more.”), my mother called.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  “Excuse me, Aubrey?” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Hello?”

  “Much better.” There was a smile in her voice. “What time should I expect you at The Grove tonight?”

  “Never. I’m not coming.”

  “Save me your tantrums, Aubrey. There’s a lot of money riding on this first dinner. Would you like me and your father to pick you up?”

  “I said I’m not coming. Did you not hear me?”

  “Aubrey…” She lowered her voice. “I’ve been trying to hold back for the past few weeks, but you know what? I am sick and tired of you being so damn thoughtless and selfish about your father’s aspirations. Neither of us personally give a damn about your thoughts on the election, but since you’re a member of this family, I demand that you—”