Warren Lane Read online

  WARREN LANE

  ANDREW DIAMOND

  Copyright Andrew Diamond, 2015

  Published by Stolen Time Press, Charlottesville, VA

  http://www.stolentimepress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  May, 2015 – First Edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9963507-2-3

  For Anne Garrison

  All those years ago, when nothing was going right in my life, you listened patiently to my complaints and helped me through to better days. On your final birthday, when we all said what we valued most in you, your daughter spoke for everyone when she described how supportive and encouraging you were. The world is poorer without you in it, but the seeds you nurtured in the ones you loved are still growing, and your generosity and your faith in us continue to bear fruit.

  Chapter 1

  Will Moore sat in a lounge chair by the hotel pool in his Bermuda shorts and white polo shirt, browsing through photos of escorts on his phone. The dark-haired one reminded him of his wife when she was young. He instinctively looked to her eyes in search of the deep feeling and sharp intelligence of the woman he loved. But these eyes were empty, and everything about the photo looked fake, from the blow-dried hair to the over-done make-up to the glossy, slightly parted lips that promised pleasure.

  Will put the phone down and thought, Why am I looking at her? I can have her at home. And she’s better now than she was at that age.

  He looked out toward the broad, extravagant pool where the mothers and fathers played with their children. In winter, there would be hundreds of people here, but May was the beginning of the slow season in Miami, and there were no more than twenty guests on the deck this morning. It was quiet enough to hear the breeze in the palms and the waves breaking beyond the bushes.

  At fifty, Will looked like an inflated version of himself at thirty. The weight he had put on through years of indulgence in beef and alcohol was evenly distributed throughout his body, and he carried it well. His brown hair showed no trace of grey. His skin was stretched smooth across his broad face, which was red from the South Florida heat. He had the healthy, vigorous look of a man who enjoyed life, and the easy confidence of a man accustomed to getting what he wants.

  He thought back to the young woman he had met at the party a few nights before, with the blonde hair and the clear blue eyes, the quick smile and the easy, open manner. She was one of the models hired to mix with the guests; but her lithe, athletic figure, her dancer’s grace and upright posture made her stand out from the others, who looked skinny and underfed. She told him over a glass of wine that she had trained in ballet as a teenager and then quit when the pressure to be perfect took all the joy out of it. She liked to joke and flirt. She was simple and direct. She was in every way the opposite of his wife, whose life was all interior. Too bad he blew his chance with her.

  They had shared a cab back to the hotel after the party and had a drink at the bar. At the end of the evening, when she said good-bye as she left the elevator, her backward glance lingered just a split second too long, and he knew he had an opportunity.

  He ran into her in the lobby the next night, after his dinner plans fell through. Did she have plans? No. He took her to a restaurant and they went through two bottles of expensive wine. He told her about his business, importing high-end furniture and art from Asia. She told him about modeling and her life in New York.

  She was lively, open and expressive, and he marveled at how willingly she went along with his plan, drinking all the wine he offered, like Gretel readying herself for the witch’s pleasure. She was clearly intelligent. She knew where this was going. But she seemed to him a little reckless. Perhaps a little self-destructive. He kept refilling her glass before she could empty it.

  In the cab back to the hotel, she began to slouch, and her head bobbed whenever the car hit a bump. In the elevator, she leaned heavily against the wall. When the doors opened on the ninth floor, Will held her just above the elbow to steady her. His grip was almost tight enough to bruise. At the end of the hallway, she wavered on her feet as he slid the magnetic key card into the lock. She said in a pathetic voice, “I drank too much, Will. I don’t feel good.”

  Will steered her to bed and sat her down. He knelt and removed her shoes. Then he went into the bathroom and raised the toilet seat and dropped a towel on the floor. A few seconds later, she stumbled in with her hand over her mouth, the vomit pushing through her fingers as she leaned toward the toilet.

  Will left the bathroom without a word. She stayed on her knees for several minutes, vomiting and cleaning up after herself. When she returned to the room, Will was sitting on the couch. He watched in silence as she walked to the side of the bed. She looked at him sadly and began to pull down the strap of her dress.

  Will shook his head. “Don’t do that.”

  “No?”

  “No. Get some sleep.”

  She lay on top of the covers, and Will filled a glass of water in the bathroom. When he set it on the nightstand beside her, he asked, “Do you feel better?”

  “The room’s not spinning anymore.”

  He turned out the lamp next to the bed.

  When she awoke sweating in the middle of the night, Will was asleep on the couch, still fully dressed. At 8:00 a.m., he was sitting by her side in a fresh suit of clothes, gently rubbing her shoulder. “I hope you feel better,” he said. “I’m sorry about last night. That was my fault.”

  That was yesterday morning. He had thought of her often since then. If she had come from the agency, he might have made her go through with it. But then, if she had come from the agency, he would not have had to get her drunk. She would have been happy to collect whatever her share of the $1500 fee was. Will tried to tally up how much his little habit had cost him over the past twelve months, but he couldn’t even remember how many cities he had visited in that time.

  A year and half earlier, he was surprised when his accountant, Arnie, confronted him about his escapades. Arnie’s disapproving mention of your little call girls rankled him. An accountant, of all people, should see the sense of negotiating a fee for a service. It was so much neater than the unpredictable and ongoing expenses of a real relationship.

  But Arnie had pulled him aside and said, “What’s going on, Will? You used to go to Asia every six or eight weeks. Now you’re there ten or fifteen days out of every month. Or you’re in New York, or Miami, or Vegas. Why?”

  “It’s business,” Will explained.

  “You can’t keep giving me these expense reports, flying first class and staying in suites in five-star hotels,” Arnie said. “You can’t keep charging dinners for half a dozen people with wine at two-hundred dollars a bottle.”

  “Relax,” said Will.

  “Uh-uh,” said Arnie. “Your travel and entertainment expenses are way too high. The IRS won’t allow it. We’re already cash-poor from all the money you took out of the company to put into that trust. We could have kept the stores open in Portland and Seattle if you weren’t skimming off all the profits. It’s cash flow that’s killing us.”

  “It’s my company,” Will said.

  “And that’s why you should be concerned,” Arnie said. “If we hit two bad months in a row, we’ll be leaning hard on our credit line. I don’t want to borrow to finance your extravagance.”

  “OK, Arnie, I get it. You don’t need to lecture me.”

  “Sorry, Will, but I think I do need to lecture you. You’re running off the rails here. You built this company by being frugal and making wise choices
. When you had your fun, you did it on the cheap. Now you’re getting to be the fat old lion that lives for the spoils more than the hunt.” Arnie lowered his voice and said sternly, “I read the credit card statements every month. Your personal ones too. If I see one of your little call girls show up on a company card, I’m not paying it.”

  “Do you think I’m that stupid?” Will started to turn away, but Arnie caught his arm.

  “I don’t know, Will.” Arnie’s voice was serious. “I’m just trying to bring you back on track. You have to tone it down. Get back to being the person who built this business.”

  Will considered his words. Finally, he said, “I’ll keep my eyes open for opportunities. We can bring in more revenue.”

  Arnie frowned. “That’s not the answer I wanted to hear, Will. It’s not just the cash flow I’m worried about.”

  Will found his new revenue stream, and he told himself as he watched the palms swaying in the breeze that he should have spent some of that cash on a professional instead of wasting his time with the blonde-haired girl. Now he was sitting by the pool because he knew she was still in the hotel. She ran in the mornings then went to the beach for a swim. Wouldn’t it be nice if she walked by and he got another chance?

  But it was too hot, even in the shade, and he was about to go in when he saw her coming toward him. She wore a blue bikini beneath a see-through white wrap. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and her face was flushed and covered with beads of sweat from the run she had just finished.

  There was that smile again. That bright, lovely smile. “Hi, Will.”

  “Hey Ella. How far did you run?”

  “Eight miles. I have to cool down.”

  “You want a drink?”

  “No alcohol,” she said.

  “No, something cool. The waiter is on his way over.”

  “Maybe a daiquiri,” she said. “Without the rum.”

  Will ordered the drink, while Ella fanned herself with her hand and watched the children in the pool.

  “When’s your next shoot?” Will asked.

  “In two days.”

  “Mmm. Too bad I’ll miss it.”

  “When do you leave?” Ella asked.

  “Tomorrow. Late morning.”

  They were quiet for a moment, then Ella began, “Will...”

  His phone rang. He looked at the name on the screen, and then held up his finger and said, “Just a minute. I have to take this. Hello?”

  His eyes narrowed and his body tensed as he listened. “What do you mean, stuck in customs? How could it be stuck?” He paused and listened. “It was just random? Well, where is it?” Pause. “OK, the X-ray is broken. Is it in the machine?” He listened again. “Are they going to open the container?” Pause. “Well goddammit, what do you know?” He let out a sigh as the person on the other end spoke, then he said with frustration and a tinge of fear, “You call me as soon as something happens.”

  When he hung up, he looked pale and his breathing was fast and shallow. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, then, looking a little dizzy, he sat back down.

  “You OK, Will?” Ella asked.

  “No.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Business. Bad business.” His chest tightened, he struggled to breathe, and his face looked ashen.

  “Oh my God, Will! Are you having a heart attack?”

  “No. Shut up. Don’t make a scene.”

  “You need an ambulance.”

  Will looked at her sternly and said in the calmest voice he could muster, “No ambulance. No scene. Just get me a cab.”

  They stood and walked into the hotel, her arm steadying him as he had steadied her two nights before. She reminded him to breathe deeply as they passed slowly through the lobby.

  She got him into a cab in the hotel drive, and they went to the hospital. Ella held his phone and wallet while the doctors examined him and ordered tests. After two hours, she peeked in on him as he sat on the edge of an examination table in a white paper robe.

  The doctor said, “Your pulse is strong and your heart sounds fine, but your blood pressure and your cholesterol are high.” He looked at Will’s chart. “You say there’s no history of heart disease on your mother’s side. What about your father’s side?”

  “I never met my father,” Will said.

  “Have you ever had an anxiety attack?” the doctor asked.

  “Ha! I’m not an anxious person,” Will said.

  “Are you under stress at work?”

  “I had a scare today.”

  “That’s when the tightness and breathing problems started?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will,” said Ella. “Someone called you twice. I didn’t answer.”

  “Can I have the phone?” Will asked. He went into the hall and made a call. Ella heard him say, “So it’s through? Why didn’t you call me?” Pause. “Oh, right. You did. I didn’t have the phone with me. Sorry.” He let out a long breath. “Shit!”

  He returned to the room looking more relaxed. “Come on,” he said to Ella. “Let’s get out of here.” He removed the hospital gown and put his shirt on.

  “Mr. Moore,” said the doctor, “I think you should have more tests. I don’t think you had a cardiac event, but you are at risk.”

  “Doc, I’m fine.” He turned to Ella and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Do you want anything for the anxiety?” the doctor asked.

  “Scotch,” said Will.

  They took a cab back to the hotel. Will spent most of the drive quietly looking out the window. He was breathing easily, though he looked tired. From the driveway to his room, Ella walked with her arm through his. He didn’t need help at this point, but he enjoyed her touch. She left him on the couch in his room, where he stared blankly at the wall, rubbing the hint of stubble on his chin.

  “I hope you feel better,” she said.

  “Hmm? Oh. Thanks for coming with me. Sorry to ruin your day.”

  “You didn’t ruin it. Are you sure you’ll be OK?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Will said.

  When she left, he stretched out on the couch and thought about how to get out of this business he was in. He fell asleep after half an hour and woke again at 5:00 p.m. when Ella knocked on his door. She was wearing the same bikini and wrap. Her cheeks were a little sunburned and she had sand on her calves and feet.

  She presented him with a bottle of Scotch and said, “For your anxiety.”

  “For my pleasure,” said Will. “Come in.”

  Ella walked to the balcony door, and Will unwrapped the two glasses on the mini-fridge. “Would you like some?” he asked.

  Ella squinted and held her hand in front of her eye, her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. Will poured a tall glass for himself and a shot for her. He sat on the couch and she sat next to him, turning sideways and pointing her knees toward him as he handed her the glass. They made a toast. “To joy,” Will said.

  “To your health,” said Ella. She took a sip and made an unpleasant face. She drank the remainder in a single gulp, and then said, “So what was that all about?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Will said.

  “Do you always get so wrapped up in work?”

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  With a mischievous smile, she put her finger in the open collar of his shirt and rubbed the hair beneath his collarbone.

  “Am I getting under your skin, Will?”

  “You’re... What are you doing?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He looked at her and wondered, Is she a prostitute?

  She stood up and removed the wrap around her bikini.

  If she’s not, he thought, she’s racing toward trouble.

  Ella said in a teasing,
condescending voice, “Does the big bad customs man scare you?”

  She poured herself another shot of Scotch and said in a flirtatious tone of mock-annoyance, “I’m bored, and the straps of my top are digging into my skin.”

  She sat on the couch again, closer to him this time, so the straps were within his reach. When he hesitated, she said, “Are you scared, Will? I didn’t take you for the hesitant type.”

  In a minute, she was undressed and undressing him. She took his hand and pulled him from the couch to the bed. Then she turned and opened the sliding glass doors. She walked onto the balcony, leaned against the rail and looked out over the pool, the dark green palms and the turquoise water of the Atlantic. Her behind was a little whiter than the rest of her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Will said. “It’s still daylight. People will see you!”

  “Look at this view, Will. I love the color of the sea.”

  “Get in here!” Will demanded.

  Ella turned to face him and said flatly, “Come out and get me.”

  “Are you crazy? You’re going to get us thrown out of here.”

  She leaned back against the railing and smiled. “You’re leaving tomorrow anyway. Come join me. The air is wonderful.”

  Will put on his shorts and stormed onto the balcony. He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her back into the room, and slid the glass door shut with almost enough force to break it.

  Ella smiled at him. “You’re dressed again. Now we’ll have to start all over. And look at you shake. Are you that angry?”

  “You fucking lunatic! I know people in this hotel. They know me. You can’t behave like that.”

  “You’re not going to let me get away with this, are you Will?”

  He pushed her to the bed. She reclined onto her elbows and smiled and said, “Don’t break me, Will.”

  A short time later, they were lying side by side. Will was on his back. Ella was on her side, her index finger tracing circles in the hair on his chest.

  Will said, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “I know. You are too. I was worried for a while you might have a real heart attack, the way you were going at it.”