“Here,” she says, pulling an envelope out of her bra and handing it to me. “Your man asked me to give this to you. Says you won't take his calls, that you’ve blocked his number and his email from reaching you.”
It’s true. I’ve blocked all aspect of Arsen from contacting me. The rational part of my brain says I did it to not have to deal with someone who deceived me so cruelly. But the reptilian part of my brain is telling me it’s because I wanted him to come to me. Apparently I didn't figure he could go through my friends to reach me.
I take the letter and against my better judgment start reading it. It’s only a few lines, scrawled in the confident, collected hand of Arsen Hawke.
“He gave it to Gerard last night to give to me,” Yasmine says yawning on the sofa and kicking off her boots. “Told him to tell me to give it to you. I told him it felt like high school, passing notes along in recess, but you know how guys get.”
I’m reading it.
And it takes everything I have to not cry.
I try to compose my thoughts, but my brain is going a mile a minute. My heart is beating even faster.
I pull open my laptop sitting on the dinner table and open the spreadsheet. Call it a habit, but I kept track of every minute I spent on the phone. I do some rough calculations and all of a sudden it makes sense to me.
Everything makes sense.
“Yasmine,” I call out. “I need to go see your man.”
“Whaaaa….” Yasmine drawls and I can tell she’s falling asleep.
“Where is Arsen’s lawyer?” I ask. “Where’s Gerard?”
“He’s usually playing racquetball in the mornings…I think,” Yasmine says in a whisper. “New York Health and Racquet Club.”
I thank her and get my coat as well as the letter that Arsen wrote me.
By the time I’m out the door, I can hear the soft breaths coming from Yasmine as she falls into sleep.
The New York Health and Racquet Club is located on 51st Street Between Park and Madison Avenues. It’s also one of those old boys clubs that doesn’t allow women. So I wait.
Around 8 am, I see the front desk man point to Arsen’s lawyer as he emerges from the interior of the club and approaches me.
“Can I help you, Ashley?” Gerard asks.
I take a deep breath. We’ve never actually formally spoken. Sure, Arsen’s mentioned Gerard in almost every other conversation and I’ve seen him around and been in his presence numerous times. He even saw me almost naked during a video conference after our first night being together. But we’ve never directly spoken.
Now, however, we have cause to.
I hold up the letter Arsen sent me.
“Do you know what’s in this?” I ask.
Gerard looks at the letter and then he looks at me. “I do not, but I can only assume it’s Arsen trying to give an explanation of his behavior.”
“Let me read it to you,” I say and I pull open the letter. Gerard takes my arm and takes me over to a sofa so I can sit down.
I clear my breath and begin. “Dear Ashley,” I start and look over at him. He gives me a look and I smile and keep going.
“The last few days without you have been fucking terrible,” I read. I smile as I read and look over to Gerard. He’s shaking his head with a little bit of a smile too. He has a sense of humor it seems and all of a sudden I can see what someone like Yasmine finds attractive in this older, much more distinguished looking man.
“I gotta be honest. I went out to Pasha today hoping a nightclub with the boys would get my mind off things, but nothing is the same when you’re fucking gone. I know it was fucked up of me to make you call me King Henry and not tell you it was me you were talking to,” I continue reading and I see Gerard raise his eyebrow. That’s what I thought. I keep going. “The Russian mob has been after buying the company for as long as Dad’s been dead, because it’s one of the only profitable outfits in the region, but I know how these guys treat their employees. And I could never put you in that sort of danger. I could never let you work for them. I sold everything else but Simulated Pleasures and I I held onto it because you were there. But as I kept talking to you, I sort of realize now why Dad did what he did and why it was so successful. He was lonely. And by providing the things that he did, he helped other people out there in the world wh
o were lonely find at least a little bit of temporary happiness. A small pleasure. Not a replacement, that’s for sure. But maybe a small escape. Maybe a chance to not have to think about real life. Because babe, real life without you is so fucking boring, and it took talking to you on a pay-per-minute line for me to understand that. But you don’t want anything to do with me, so I’m letting you know that as long as you’ve quit, I’m going to sell Simulated Pleasures in the morning. Gonna sign the paperwork. So you never have to worry about me again. Just know that I fucking love you.”
I fold the letter away and look at Gerard. He looks at me.
“It seems that Arsen has realized what drove his father at last,” Gerard says. “And it seems he has you to thank for it.”