SEVENTEEN
Willow
Dr. Goodman worked his magic. Sure enough at the end of the week on Friday, things took a giant step forward. Ryan invited me to his loft for dinner. He asked me what kind of food I wanted. I told him anything but deli. Not that I didn’t like deli, but enough was enough.
Around six o’clock, I got a call from him. He told me he was stuck in traffic, but that I should head over to his loft early and make myself at home. He gave me the code to get in.
“Should I bring anything?”
“Just bring yourself.”
“What should I wear?”
After asking that question, I regretted it, but Ryan told me to dress casually. I felt relieved. I wanted to feel comfortable. So leggings and an oversized sweater was what I had in mind. And my favorite lace-up boots.
Stopping by the local Korean market to buy some flowers, I headed over to Ryan’s place down the street. I walked fast, my heart racing as I did. I was as nervous as I was excited. While I’d walked by his loft numerous times in the past, this was different. When I got to his loft on Hudson, I followed his instructions and punched in the code to get in. The huge elevator opened, giving me a jolt. I got into the massive carriage, which was big enough to hold a concert grand piano, pushed the up button, and the metal door slammed down. Slowly, creak by creak, the elevator ascended and the door re-opened letting me out in Ryan’s loft. Every nerve was buzzing, much the way they did when a theater curtain rose and I was about to leap onto the stage for the first time and dance.
Hesitantly, stepping out of the elevator, I soaked in his place. It was exactly as he described it in his book, except it felt much bigger with its sparse leather furnishings, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows. On one wall, I eyed a large built-in bookcase filled with art books and literary classics, and in the corner, the winding stairs that lead to his bedroom. Their bedroom. The bedroom he shared with her. His beloved, stunning Allee. Everywhere I looked, I saw her…them…taken in the short happy time they spent together. They looked so much in love. I could actually feel her presence…as if she had eyes on me and was watching my every move. A ripple of insecurity ebbed through me. Could I ever measure up to Allee? Could Ryan ever love another as much as he loved her?
The sound of footsteps cut into my mental ramblings. They were coming from the kitchen, which was set off by a partition. Was Ryan home? I heard what sounded like a refrigerator door open and close.
“Ryan, are you there?” I called out.
No response.
“Ryan?”
Grabbing a vase, I padded toward the kitchen to fill it with water and the flowers I’d bought. With the anticipation of seeing Ryan, my heartbeat quickened, and then I stopped dead in my tracks when a tall, blond woman appeared. Chicly dressed in a sleeveless black sheath, she was holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a monstrous red leather designer bag in the other. She stared at me with her icy blue eyes.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a friend of Ryan’s,” I stammered.
Madness flickered in her eyes. “His latest slut?”
Her words cut into me. Who was this woman? Did Ryan have a secret girlfriend? Her venomous gaze stayed on me.
“Get the fuck out of here. Ryan belongs to me.” Without warning, she hurled her glass of champagne at me. Splintering on the concrete floor, it narrowly missed me.
“Who are you?” I dared to ask as she dug her manicured hand into her handbag. For the first time, I noticed the initials monogrammed on the front of it. C. V. A light bulb went off in my head. Of course, it must be Charlotte Vanowen, Ryan’s former deranged girlfriend.
“You’re Char—”
Unable to get out the second syllable of her name, my jaw dropped to my stomach as my thudding heart leapt into my throat.
Oh, my God. She was pointing a gun at me!
“Please don’t hurt me,” I pleaded. “I-I’ll leave.”
“Shut up, cunt!” Grabbing a photo of Allee off a console table, she hurled it at me. It crashed on the floor at my feet. Wildly, she threw another and another.
“Please stop!” Shards of glass were scattered everywhere on the floor.
“One more word and you’re going to be as dead as that whore.”
“Please…” My legs like Jell-O, I began to take tiny steps backward toward the elevator, still clutching the vase and the flowers as her face darkened with fury.
“What part of shut up don’t you understand?”
Then as she clicked the trigger, the elevator door slid open behind me.