Pure Abandon Read online

Grabbing one item after the next, Gwen takes her armful of clothes into the dressing room, and I take a seat on a bench, waiting for her to come out.

  Gwen tries on a series of ensembles. If she tried on twenty, she didn’t try on enough. After forty minutes, Jackson gets antsy.

  “Mom, I’m going to push Jackson around a little. He’s tired of sitting still.”

  “Okay, dear,” she calls from inside the dressing room. Grabbing my purse, I stand and start to move.

  “Just real quick.” She interrupts my departure. “What do you think of this one?” She’s standing in the doorway, wearing a black, short-sleeve, cowl-neck top and leopard-print pants. As wild as they are, the pants are tasteful. The gold belt, on the other hand, is a bit… much.

  “It’s perfect. Definitely get that one.”

  I push the stroller out of the women’s department and browse through the makeup section before stopping at one of the jewelry counters. I enjoy looking at the gemstones under the twinkling lights. As I admire a beautiful bangle bracelet, a scent permeates my senses.

  Tobacco… and vanilla.

  I freeze in place.

  He’s here.

  Hastily, I turn around and scan the room for Asher. Turning to the left and right, I look around the room but he is nowhere in sight. Like a bloodhound on the hunt, I follow the delicious scent to see where he went.

  “Would you like to try some? Perhaps for the man in your life?” a sales girl calls over to me.

  Huh? Go away. Doesn’t she know I’m on the chase?

  The pesky sales girl is on a scent-selling mission. “Here. We have these great scent cards.” She takes the fragrance and sprays it onto a rectangular piece of cardstock and fans it out in front of her.

  I try to walk away, but she’s shoving the fragrance card in my face. Reluctantly, I take it from her and start to stroll away.

  But here it is.

  In my hand.

  I raise the card to my nose and savor the delicious fragrance.

  It’s his damn cologne.

  Turning around, I head back to the pesky sales girl and look at the black and gold bottle in her hand. The man wears Tom Ford.

  “I’ll take a bottle of that,” I say, pulling my wallet out from my purse. Yes, my own personal Alexander Asher in a bottle.

  “There you are!” Gwen pops up from beside me.

  “What are you buying?” she asks, scanning the counter. “Oh, cologne for Gabriel. How sweet. Let me smell.” Gwen picks up the tester bottle and sprays it on her arm. She raises her wrist to her nose and takes in that heavenly scent that’s had me going wild all summer.

  “This is divine. Smells like an old English gentleman’s club. Very heady. Very male.” Gwen has just described the man more than the fragrance.

  “That will be two hundred and fifteen dollars,” the pesky salesgirl chirps.

  My jaw falls to the floor. “For two ounces?” Of course Asher would have the most expensive cologne in the whole goddamn store.

  “It’s one point seven ounces, but you can’t put a price on this kind of luxury.” Pesky beams.

  I hand over my credit card and glance over at my mother.

  “Don’t look at me. I just spent four hundred dollars on cashmere!” Gwen saunters off.

  With my bottle of Alexander Asher, and mother who now smells like him, we make our way up to the women’s evening gown section.

  The gowns are stunning. Row after row, there is one more beautiful than the other. I don’t know where to start, so Gwen grabs several and makes a room for me. I scan the price tags to make sure she’s not going overboard. The prices are fine, but the sizes are all wrong.

  “Mom, these are too small,” I hold up the tag in my hand.

  “No, Kathryn. Your clothes are too big.” Her eyes look me up and down. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. Trust me. They’ll fit.”

  I roll my eyes and head into the dressing room. The first is a pale-pink A-line that—to my surprise—fits. Maybe I have lost weight. I don’t know how. I feel like all I do is eat with Malory.

  I open the door to show Gwen the pink dress and she shakes her head in disapproval.

  Next I try on a strapless plum satin number. It’s slimming and sophisticated. I love it! Opening the door, I look out for Gwen. “What do you think?” I beam.

  Gwen tilts her head to the side and twists her mouth. “Not for you.”

  “I like it!”

  “Kat, it does nothing for you. It’s too boring. Try on the red one,” she directs.

  Fine! I slam the dressing room door like I’m a fourteen-year-old. Gwen lets out a laugh. “You’ll never change!”

  The red dress has a two-part neckline that I get my head stuck in twice before finally figuring it out. I’m so aggravated by the time I get it on properly; I automatically hate the dress no matter how it looks.

  I open the door to Gwen standing in front of me, holding an ivory dress. “Try this on.”

  “You haven’t even looked at the one I have on!” I huff.

  “I hate it. Here.” She shoves the dress in my hand. “This is the one.”

  I hold up the ivory dress. “I am not wearing white. It’s not my wedding day.”

  “Put it on.” Gwen walks away. Flashbacks of my prom, formals, and even wedding dress shopping pop in my head. The woman is maddening to shop with.

  And just like with my prom dress, formal, and wedding dress… she is right.

  Damn her.

  The gown is exquisite, worldly, and makes me look like a goddess. It is a Theia form-fitted number with a low, soft V neckline and spaghetti straps. The silk fabric clings to my body but hangs delicately as it swoons down my hips into an elegant cascade of delicate petals. The hemline drapes gracefully on the floor. I look like a goddess walking on a bed of floating white rose petals.

  Ivory on ivory, it is the epitome of classic. I’m in love.

  I open the door to allow Gwen to gloat, but she isn’t there.

  “Mom?”

  Picking up the bottom of the dress, I sneak barefoot out of the dressing room. Where did she go?

  As I’m about to turn around back into the dressing room, I hear a familiar voice.

  “He wanted to spend time together tonight, but I was already at the mall. I mean, he can’t ask me last minute to spend time with him. A girl needs to pamper!” She lets out a laugh.

  Hiding behind a rack of clothing, I eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “You have to see him. He’s gorgeous! And his body is to die for… Yeah, yeah… We run together… In the park… Yes, totally hot bod. It makes it all worth it.” She continues.

  What is worth it? Who is she running with? And is she talking to herself? I slide down to the floor and squat low so she doesn’t see me. I have to get a glimpse.

  Putting my hands on all fours, I crawl around the rack. Shirt sleeves and price tags are hitting me in the face as I peer around the side of the rack.

  It’s her.

  The lioness!

  The girl from the park, who knows my husband and calls my son Jack, is on the phone and looking at a display of undergarments. Very sexy undergarments, I might add.

  What’s her name? Beth, Brie, Baily… Shit!

  “We are seeing each other Tuesday. I know, right?” She continues. “I have to find something killer to wear. We are going to…” She starts to walk away. I can’t hear. I crawl closer.

  I’m about to round the corner when I’m interrupted by a pair of feet. I don’t know those feet. They are clad in black aerosols. Cowering down, I gaze up hesitantly. I’ve been caught by a salesgirl.

  “Excuse me, miss. May I ask why you’re crawling on the ground in a thousand-dollar dress?”

  A thousand dollars!

  I slowly creep up to a standing position.

  “I… um…” My mouth goes dry.

  She crosses her arms and taps her foot. This day just can’t get any better.

  “There you are!” Gwen emerges by my sid
e, holding Jackson. “Oh, don’t you look beautiful!”

  My scowling eyes meet hers. “A thousand dollars?”

  “If you don’t like it, don’t get it,” Gwen suggests nonchalantly.

  I turn to the sales girl. Her lips are set in a hard line and she’s raising an eyebrow. There is no use arguing, with either of them.

  “I’ll take the dress,” I mumble beneath my breath.

  The sales girl gives me a smug look. “I’ll ring you up.”

  As she walks away, Gwen hands me a shoebox. “Here, these will go perfect!”

  I look at the expensive high-end label on the box and shake my head. “I think we’ve done enough damage.”

  “Try them on, Kathryn. Listen to your mother.” Gwen tries to shove the shoebox in my arms.

  “No.” I shove it back.

  “Kat…” She admonishes.

  “No.” I push the box away again.

  “Kat…”

  “I said no!” I shout.

  Gwen’s eyes widen in surprise.

  “Is that Jack?” an excited voice calls from beyond the rack.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  The lioness pops up her bubbly head and leans over to give Jackson a kiss.

  Gwen looks at her and smiles. “A friend! Hello dear, I’m Kathryn’s mother. Gwendolyn. You can call me Gwen.” She holds out her hand.

  “Hi, Gwen.” She shakes my mother’s hand. “I’m Becca.”

  Becca!

  The lioness who was just on the phone, talking about, who I presume is, MY husband, is kissing MY baby and shaking hands with MY mother, while I’m standing in a thousand-dollar dress I just dragged across the floor.

  I grab the shoebox from my mother’s hands.

  “Oh, give me the damn shoes!”

  “What do you mean you think Gabriel is cheating?”

  I’m a chicken shit. I can’t talk to Gabriel about it. Mostly because there has been zero privacy in my house since Gwen is staying for a few days. Lord knows I can’t talk to my mother about this.

  Even if I did talk to him – If he’s having an affair, he’s not goanna say, “Oh, since you ask, yes. Yes, I am having an affair with the blonde with big boobs from the park. And yes, she did buy sexy lingerie to wear for me. Thank you for asking.”

  Instead, I hold my breath until I see Malory, my sounding board.

  “Part of me thinks he is and part of me knows better. I mean, this is Gabriel we’re talking about. It would be so out of character. He’s one of the good guys… right?” I ramble, disgusted that I’m even thinking this. My foot is shaking a mile a minute, and I’ve chewed through two pen caps this morning alone.

  “Yes, Gabriel is definitely one of the good guys.” Malory tries to comfort me, her hand leaning across the desk to touch my arm. It’s an odd gesture for Malory. It seems forced.

  “But you say it all the time. He is good-looking and successful. I mean, why wouldn’t women be thrusting themselves at him all day long?” My head falls in my hands. There is a mountain of work on my desk to be done, but I can’t concentrate. “There is this girl in the park…”

  Malory scowls. “What do you mean a ‘girl in the park?”

  “Blonde, perfect, and well acquainted with my husband and son.” The thought makes me shiver. “And to top it off, I heard her talking to someone about this guy she’s seeing.”

  I let out a breath of air. I feel defeated. “There was something she said. She made a reference to the guy making it all worth it. Like there was an obstacle they had to overcome.” My fear is that obstacle is me.

  “Tell me more about the girl. What did she look like? Was she young?”

  “I’d say early-twenties. She was—” The ringing phone interrupts me. I put my finger up to Malory. “Hold that thought.”

  I pick up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “This is Cecelia from Mr. Asher’s office. He’s requested your company in his office. Shall I alert him of your availability?”

  Is this the right time to be dealing with Asher?

  He’s your boss, Kat. Yes.

  “Yes. I’ll be up in five minutes.” I hang up.

  Malory’s black eyes question my phone call.

  “Asher has summoned me.” I answer her unspoken question.

  “Huh,” she replies with a raised eyebrow.

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah. Huh. Shall I say more?” Her lips fix into a smirk.

  “You’ve said enough.” I stand, grabbing my files for the gala. I’m sure he wants to go over the permits and timeline.

  “If Gabriel is having an affair, you want to catch him in the act. Otherwise, he’ll just cover his tracks,” Malory says, and I nod in agreement. I should be taking notes. “Do you have any proof of this alleged affair?” Malory questions.

  “No.” There is comfort in that fact.

  “Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not talk to Gabriel about this. We need to come up with a strategy first.” Malory stands and smoothes out her onyx dress. “Did you drive in today?”

  “Yes. Why do you need to borrow it for some reason?”

  Malory grabs her bag and thinks for a second before changing her mind. “No. I just wanted to know if you had a train to catch. When you get back, I still have questions for you. I want to know who this younger other woman is.”

  I stall at the door before answering. “If my husband is sleeping with another woman, does it really matter how young she is?”

  Malory stares at me blankly as I walk out of the room.

  Upstairs in Asher’s office, I take a seat and stare at big-eyed fish. They’re so naïve, thinking their perfect little aquarium is a paradise just for them, when, in reality, there is an entire ocean out there they have no idea about. They only know what they’ve been lied to about.

  The large door behind me opens and a dark-skinned woman with hazel eyes and a tiny frame exits Asher’s office. She’s buttoning the top button of her blouse as she saunters over to the elevator. Shouldn’t she at least have the decency to put herself together inside the office? It’s like she wants people to know what she’s up to.

  “Ms. Grayson.” Cecelia draws my attention away from the afternoon booty call. “Mr. Asher will see you now.”

  Oh, what this poor girl must have to witness on a daily basis.

  “Close the door,” Asher calls over from the bar area.

  I compromise and leave the door slightly ajar as I do every time I’m in his office.

  “Afraid someone might think we’re being… Oh, what’s the word? Inappropriate?” Golden eyes leer at me.

  “Did you enjoy your Twinkie?” I say, referring to the woman who just left Asher’s office. I hope he can hear the disgust in my voice.

  “That,” he says, pointing toward the door, “was not a Twinkie. That was a Simone Davenport.”

  “Do Simone Davenports not have the same cream filling as the rest?” I sneer.

  Asher waves me into the room and motions toward one of the barstools. “Simones are part of the business world. Daughters of men with a lot of money and power. So if you fuck over a Simone, you better have your balls in a vise.” He makes a mock cringing face like he was just kicked in the balls. “But we do have an arrangement. We see to each other’s needs.”

  He is so full of himself.

  “All men are swine.”

  “Only the good ones.” His chiseled chin rises as he holds up a glass. “Drink?”

  There is one thing to say about Alexander Asher. He doesn’t hide who he is. Sure, he has secrets. But women know what they’re getting from him. They know he’s a cad and non-committal. He doesn’t lie and he certainly doesn’t sneak behind anyone’s back.

  The thought is lightly refreshing. I could use a good dose of honesty right about now. I let out a deep breath and toss back my shoulders making my way toward the bar. “I don’t drink on school days.”

  “Only school nights?” he teases.

  “That was a s
pecial occasion.”

  “Heather’s birthday was a special occasion? Are you two becoming buddies or something?” Asher lifts the rocks glass to his lips and takes a sip. The alcohol must burn a little because his throat clenches.

  “As much as I’d love to banter back and forth with you, I have a gala to produce.”

  “Right,” he says, putting the glass down on the bar. “I have something to show you.”

  He is giddy with excitement. Its so un-Asher it makes me smile for the first time today.

  Asher walks over to his desk. Propped up against the side is a large poster-sized picture. He lifts it with both hands and turns it around. He is wearing his megawatt smile in anticipation of my reaction.

  I can’t help but let out a small laugh. In his hands is an original vintage movie poster for the film It Happened In Brooklyn, starring Peter Lawford and, my namesake, Kathryn Grayson.

  “I thought we could hang it in the conference room,” he proposes, looking down at the poster in his hands and then back up at me, waiting to see how I react.

  I can’t argue with him about buying it for me, because he didn’t. He bought it for the office. That’s acceptable. I won’t admit it out loud, but I kind of like that he bought it because of me. It’s a sweet gesture. “It will look great in the conference room. I approve. Now let’s talk about the gala.”

  “Yes.” He places the frame back on the ground and suddenly becomes very serious. “The gala. Come, take a seat.” We walk over to the small conference table and Asher holds out a chair for me. The swell in my belly that was dancing earlier with every emotion from anger to excitement and absolute anxiousness is settling. Maybe it’s the scent of vanilla or the way his voice has this melodic sound to it, but I am undeniably relaxed in his company.

  Crazy, right? I know.

  Right now, I’m a far cry from the anxious twit I was this morning. Working together, we have a commonality in this job that puts us on the same playing field. When we went to the tomb, we shared stories of family and honesties reserved for intimate friendships. I feel like he’s known me forever. We’ve come so far in a short amount of time.

  Maybe Asher can give me some advice. Malory is no use. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” There is vexation in his voice.