And that would have killed me. As much as Goodluck drove me crazy, I loved him like my own child.
“Don’t be angry with me,” he said, his face crumpling with emotion. “It was scary. I had to figure out how to use the fire extinguisher from the kitchen.” He came toward me, and I hugged him, stroking his hair, singed ends and all. “It was so scary, Starcomet, and I’ve missed you. I don’t want you to leave me, or stop working for me. And, plus, I have to live with you for a while.”
I sighed, holding him, feeling some of last night’s angst bleed away. This was one person in my life who wasn’t afraid of emotion. “You can stay as long as you like,” I said, suppressing a sniffle, probably from Mr. Snail Shell’s dander. “But right now, I have to sleep. I really have to sleep this minute. I’ve had a long night.”
“Me too,” he said. “Let’s get some rest.”
I walked down the hall and collapsed on my bed, and a moment later, I felt Goodluck’s weight beside me. He pulled the covers over both of us, and I thought, all right. Whatever. I was just happy to be Starcomet again. A moment later, Mr. Snail Shell jumped between us, curling into a ball by Goodluck’s face. I sighed and went to my bathroom to take an allergy pill.
“Where did you find that cat?” I asked on the way back.
“I didn’t find him,” he said, scratching his ears. “He found me. He walked into my apartment a couple months ago and that was that. He climbed five flights of stairs to get to me.” His expression sobered. “You know, it was his meowing that woke me during the fire. So I only lost half my hair, and he didn’t lose any at all.”
“What a good cat. I guess both of you are lucky.” I turned onto my side, plumping the pillow against my cheek. I could feel the lock shift under my sleep shirt, nestling between my breasts. My nipples still felt sore. They’d been hurt just hours ago, although it seemed worlds ago now.
“You know what?” I said. “You were right, friend. You were right about Fort St. Clair and me and relationships. I’m not going to see him anymore.”
“What did he do to you?” His eyes softened as he studied me. “You’ve been crying.”
“I needed to cry.”
Goodluck made a distressed sound. “What did he do to you? Are there more…bruises?”
“Just emotional ones. He left me, but I’m thinking now that it was for the best, and I want to apologize for the things I said to you, and the fight we had.”
“Fights are part of life’s growth process.” He reached out to touch my hair. “You know what they say. A whale’s cry can make the brightest rainbow tremble.”
I bit back a laugh. “Is that what they say? I don’t think anyone says that but you.”
“Well, people should say it. People should speak the truth, always. If they did, our world would be a much better place.”
“Agreed.” I trailed my fingertips across the top of Mr. Snail Shell’s long fur. He wasn’t triggering my allergies too badly, and he had saved Goodluck’s life. “You’re welcome to stay here while your apartment gets fixed,” I said. “I think I’m actually going to go somewhere. You know, travel to some exotic location and work remotely for a while.”
“Travel where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere that’s not here, just for a few weeks. If you needed me, you could reach me by phone or email, or ask your agent for help.”
“Or my decorator, now that my apartment’s wrecked. I asked him to come over this evening. I’m thinking about rebuilding with a new color scheme, reds and oranges, my apartment rising from the ashes. Literal ashes.”
“But no candles.” I reached to take his hand. “The world needs you.”
He smiled at me, so much caring and openness in his gaze. I let go of his hand and closed my eyes, pretending to go to sleep. It was that, or keep looking at him and start to cry.
God, why had I ever imagined things would work out with Fort and me? We were nothing alike. He was cool and slick as the steel face of a watch gear, and I was a flailing, roiling mess of emotion. If I had a match in this world, it would be someone equally crazy, like Goodluck Boundless. I’d fallen for Fort, yes. He’d thrilled and excited me, and showed me how hot passion could burn, but loving him was a mistake.
Exhaustion overtook me, and tears came, too. I turned on my other side so Goodluck wouldn’t see them, wetting my pillow as I drifted into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Fort
I managed to ignore the feelings of loss for an entire week. I threw myself into work, into organizing some new ad campaigns, except that memories of Goodluck’s ad campaign dogged me by the hour. I took a trip to the Bahamas, thinking to lose myself in luxury, but every voluptuous, seductive woman I saw there reminded me that Juliet was my fetish, my fantasy, with her bright eyes and expressive mouth, and her responsive body.
I returned to New York, miserable with craving and lust.
I swore I wouldn’t stalk Juliet, wouldn’t linger in the area of the Black Wall or stake out her front door, but I did those things before the second week was out, and that’s how I knew she wasn’t coming home in the evenings. Goodluck was coming in and out of her apartment, but she wasn’t. Maybe she’d taken a vacation, the way I had, or maybe she’d left New York altogether in some effort to forget the debacle of our relationship.
On the three-week anniversary of leaving her at The Gallery, I asked Devin to meet me for drinks. We hunkered down at an Irish-themed pub near the airport, watching Euro league soccer over our beers.
“You look like hell,” Devin said, once the waitress left. “Have you been sleeping?”
“No.”
He raised his glass in a taunting gesture. “That’s what happens when you can’t get into The Gallery anymore. Everything breaks down.”
“Nothing’s broken down,” I said, sounding broken down as hell.
He replaced his glass and scrutinized me with his light blue eyes, eyes that missed very little, especially since we were longtime friends.
“I warned you,” he said.
“Shut the fuck up.”
We sat in silence for five minutes, drinking and watching the game, occasionally looking around the bar. I used to look around bars to measure women’s attractiveness, to gauge submissive potential as they grew drunker and let their guard down. I used to look for party girls and sluts. Now I was looking, pointlessly, for Juliet, for someone sweet and unique and emotionally confrontational. I was looking for what used to be my nightmare. It was time to admit the reason why.
“I want to get back together with Juliet,” I told Devin. “I mean, I’d like to try…try to work things out between us.”
“Are you drunk, or just spouting stupid ideas for the fun of it? Either way—”
“I’m not drunk and I’m not joking. I need to see her again, see if there’s anything that can be salvaged.”
“Then go see her.” Devin leaned away from me, like my neediness might be contagious. “You know where she lives. Go knock on her door.”
“She’s not there, hasn’t been there in a while. Maybe she’s moved.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“I’m blocked.”
“Contact her through her boss?”
“He won’t talk to me. When I asked where she was, he yelled something about whales and rainbows and told me to leave her alone.”
Dev took a deep drink of his beer, avoiding my eyes. I could still read his thoughts loud and clear. If she’s moved out of her apartment and blocked you, you should probably leave her alone.
“I’ve changed,” I said. “I’m not that guy who left her at The Gallery.”
Devin snorted. “You’re still that guy. I’m looking at you, and you’re still the same guy. A little hornier, perhaps. Too bad you were banned. Nona was asking about you last Saturday.”
“Fuck Nona,” I said with a flare of temper. “I’ve changed, and that’s an example of why, because I don’t fucking want Nona. I don’t want anyone but Juliet, and I’m a
bout to lose my fucking mind because she blocked my number and she’s somewhere I can’t find her, and I don’t know if she’s okay or if she’s a fucking mess—”
Dev held up a hand. “Listen, Fort. If she needed you, if she wanted you, she’d let you know.”
“No, she wouldn’t, because she doesn’t realize I’ve changed.”
“Holy shit, you’re a fucking butterfly come out of a cocoon, is that it?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
Our voices had risen in the crowded bar, drowning out the soccer commentator’s excitable drone. We ignored the surrounding scowls, returning to our drinks. I tore pieces off the edge of a napkin, working up to the reason I’d asked him to meet me here.
“Dev,” I finally said. “Is there any way you can, I don’t know… Use your airline connections to find out where she is?”
His eyes widened, and he laughed. “My airline connections?”