Come Undone (The Cityscape 1)

“What’s going on?” she asked, fidgeting with the clasp of the Vuitton.

“I can’t really say.” I looked into perplexed eyes and explained, “It’s nothing serious or bad, but I just don’t want to talk about it, and I need you to trust me. Please, just promise me you’ll lie if it comes up. Even to Lucy.” She didn’t seem surprised by my request, just nodded.

“Of course,” she said. “Of course I’ll cover for you. But if you need to talk about it, or if gets serious . . . or bad,” she added, “please come to me. I know you’re not easily fazed, but I’m here if you need me.” She paused. “I still haven’t forgiven you for freshmen year of high school,” she said. “The way you clammed up after your parents’ divorce wasn’t fair. I wanted to be there for you.”

I nodded. “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

“Well I try, but sometimes you make it hard.”

“Let’s not get into that,” I moaned. “Anyway Lucy just texted that she’s downstairs. I’ll fill you in on the details in the elevator, and then I want to hear more about Ava’s hot co-worker.”

~

Lucy tapped her foot on the pavement.

“These magazines are ridiculously heavy,” she said. “They’re killing my back. Let’s go. Liv, did you bring my earrings?”

“Earrings?” I asked, taking the bag from Lucy.

“Yes! The chandelier earrings. We talked about this at my engagement party – I need them back, and you said you’d bring them last Monday.”

“I did?”

Lucy groaned with disgust. “Let’s just go.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“It’s true,” Gretchen pitched in. “I was there.”

“Forget it, come on,” she said impatiently, walking away.

Gretchen gave me an encouraging look as we walked, nodding toward Lucy. “Oh,” I said. “Luce, I have something to tell you. It’s about New York.”

She slowed a bit and turned around to wait for us. I gave her an abbreviated version of the story, gulping guiltily after the lie. I bore another sympathetic reaction and hoped that was truly the end of it, mostly so I wouldn’t have to tell the story anymore. She apologized for snapping at me about the earrings and we laughed. When we arrived at the restaurant, I let them both give me a long hug and was grateful that it didn’t come up again.

~

The next night, Bill and I followed the maître d' through a crowded restaurant. I reached behind me for Bill’s hand and gave it a squeeze when I noticed my father seated rigidly straight, sipping his signature whiskey on the rocks. He looked as handsome as ever – and although I was biased, enough of my friends had told me so that I knew it was true. His hair was all charcoal now, aside from white tufts at his temples.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, greeting him with a big hug as he stood.

“Livs. You look skinny,” he said, holding me at arm’s length. “Bill.” He stuck out his hand.

“Hi, Mr. Germaine. Nice to see you.”

“Is she eating enough?” he asked Bill heartily.

“Like a champ,” Bill said, winking in my direction.

“I do, Dad, I eat a lot. What are you doing in town?”

“Nothing exciting.” He waved his hand. “I’m meeting with the VP at a local ad agency about doing some consulting there.”

“How’s business?” Bill asked, unfolding his napkin onto his lap.

“Not too shabby. I just finished up a big project in Dallas that should get me some referrals. I’m considering trading in the BMW for a C7.”

“Corvette, huh? Can’t argue with that. Maybe we’ll take that Shelby off your hands, then.”

My eyes widened and I bit the inside of my lip. “Really?”

“Olivia, don’t make that face, you look like an owl.” It was my father’s favorite thing to tease me about, my big eyes.

“Once we move out of the city, we’ll need to get you a car,” Bill continued with a slight smile. I narrowed my eyes and smirked at him playfully.

“You still want the Shelby, Olivia?” I nodded. “We’ll see what happens with the C7. Any news at work?”

“Not since last month, although today I reworked one of Lisa’s layouts, and my boss was very impressed.”

“Does that mean you got the promotion?”

“No, Daddy, I won’t know that for a little while,” I explained, taking a moment to gulp down my water.

“I know kiddo, but maybe they’ll give it to you early. Just keep thinking about the next step. Whatever’s going to catch his eye. Waiter!” he called, motioning at someone across the room.

“It’s only been a month.”

“Doesn’t matter, Olivia. Keep your eye on the prize, never say ‘no’ and make sure the boss sees you working hard – can we get some more water here?” he instructed the waiter. “Given anymore thought to moving to New York? Isn’t that where the top publications are?”

“Well, yes,” I started.

“We’ve discussed it,” Bill interjected, glancing at me. “But it’s just not the right move for us. This job is still new for me, and we love Chicago. Plus, my family is here.”

I watched my dad inhale heavily before continuing. “Well how about Dallas then? I’d love to have her closer. Bill, I have plenty of friends in the area who own firms. Or maybe you want to think about starting your own. Dallas is a great place for that.”

I resisted the urge to cover Bill’s hand with mine while he played with his fork. “Perhaps, sir, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh no you won’t, Bobby Ewing. We like Chicago, Dad. You know that we’re looking for a house. And I really want this promotion.”

“I just want you to think big, baby,” he replied.

“Did I tell you that Lucy’s getting married?”

He grunted. “What about Gretchen? When’s she going to settle down?”

“Oh, she’s holding out for Kyle Korver,” I said with a laugh.

“Who?”

“Used to play for the Bulls,” Bill offered. “He’s married though.”

“I’d like to see her meet someone nice.”

“Well, it may be a while,” Bill joked.

“Why’s that? She’s a great girl, very smart, unlike that deadbeat brother of hers.”

“John isn’t a deadbeat,” I said with conviction.

“I agree, sir, I’m not a fan of that kid.”

“Kid, honey, he’s a year younger than you. Anyway, Dad, Gretchen’s doing fine, she’s just having fun playing the field. She wanted to come tonight but couldn’t get out of a work thing.”

“I just hope she doesn’t turn into her mother. She can do better. How about you, Bill? Things are good at Specter & Specter?”

“Absolutely. I’m on a few cases at the moment, one is pretty high profile. They’re keeping me busy.”

I studied the two of them. Next to my dad, Bill seemed . . . lankier than usual. He was a few inches taller and not nearly as robust looking.

“Good to hear it,” my dad said. “Waiter! Jesus, do they not want us to order? Get whatever you want honey, dinner is on me. How’s the market around here anyway, Bill? I don’t want Olivia ending up with some bum property.”

“We’re being very thorough, sir.”

Something flashed across my dad’s face as he examined Bill, but the approaching waiter caught his attention.

“What’s new with the divorce?” I asked after we’d ordered.

“Finalized next week.”

“That’s good news,” I said. “I don’t imagine Gina is easy to divorce.”

“Certainly not,” he said, leaning back into his seat for the first time. “But nobody is, in my experience.”

~

“That was exhausting,” Bill said.

“It usually is.”

“That man spoils you, Liv. I hope you don’t expect that from me.”

I laughed. “I’m his only child.”

“Yeah, and you love it. He would give you that car if you asked.”

“Maybe. But you saw how he nagged me about work.”

“He thinks you can do better. In all aspects of your life.”

“Oh, stop with that,” I said, shaking my head at him. “He likes you.”

“I’m so glad that, after almost five years together, your father likes me.”

“He’s your father now too, so watch it,” I said with a smile. “Let’s go get ice cream. My treat.”

“Ice cream,” he cringed, rubbing his stomach. “I’m stuffed. I just want to go home.”

“Please?” I asked. “I’ll be quick.”

“No Livs, the car’s right here. I have to get up early tomorrow, and your dad wore me down more than usual.”

“Fine,” I said. My tone was exasperated, but I took his hand. “Come on, old man.”

CHAPTER 10

IT HAD BEEN OVER A WEEK since my phone call with David. I stared longingly at my e-mail, wondering if he’d received my invitation to the Meet & Greet I’d planned. Most others had responded to the message immediately. I nervously twisted the pen in my hand. What would happen if he backed out of the feature? Would it cost me the promotion? Would I be able to move on and forget the things that had been slowly awakening in me? A week was only a drop in the bucket, but it felt like ages. I wanted to hear that endlessly deep voice in my ear or see his eyebrows knit thoughtfully as he watched me talk.