This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel Read online

  “But we’ve already done that last Thursday,” Claire attempted to intercede.

  “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean that we can’t do it again, right?” Amber countered, raising her glass. “To you and David.”

  “Mmm, this is really good.” Claire savored the pleasant sourness of her drink.

  “So, how did it turn out with Jake? I want to hear all the details.” Amber looked at Lindsay.

  “How come you knew about this, and I only just found out?” Claire nudged Amber.

  “Because unlike you, I don’t leave early from my own engagement party.”

  “I had a good reason to leave early: it would have been a bit awkward for me to stick around without my fiancé by my side, don’t you think?” Claire had an instant flashback of the disappointment she had felt when David announced that he had to get back to the office. She had refused to leave with him, wanting him to believe that she was perfectly capable of having a good time on her own, but ten minutes after David had left, she herself said goodnight and headed home.

  “After you left, those two were all over each other, and I’m dying to hear how the night ended.” Amber grinned.

  “Spectacularly, and I hope there’ll be many sequels to come.” Lindsay winked.

  “Oh?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “Do tell more.”

  “That’s all you’re going to get out of me. I never kiss and tell.” Lindsay gestured a locking motion over her lips. “How are things with you and Adam?”

  “Well, I don’t kiss and tell either.” Amber mimicked Lindsay.

  Both Claire and Lindsay exchanged dubious glances.

  “Okay, fine.” Amber flung up her hands. “I think I’ve fallen for him.” She shook her head and finished the rest of her drink. “That sounded like a line from Top Gun.”

  “The two of you look really good together,” Claire cut in. “And you’ve been together for some time now,” Claire added cautiously. Amber’s relationship with Adam had been Amber’s longest relationship to date, not counting her going steady for two years with Rich Marvell, the high school football captain whom Amber dated in her junior and senior years. The two of them made such a perfect couple that it was almost a cliché. Lots of girls wanted Rich, but he chose Amber, who also happened to be the Homecoming Queen in her senior year. The night of the high school prom, Amber planned to lose her virginity to Rich, but apparently he had other plans, which she discovered when she caught him in the girls’ bathroom groping Laney Foolstock, the captain of the cheerleader squad who was famous for her ability to flex her limbs at all kinds of angles.

  “It hasn’t been that long. Only a couple of months,” Amber countered, making Claire wish she had not said anything. “But then maybe I ought to be moving on,” Amber mused.

  “Why?” Lindsay snapped. “Why would you move on when you were lucky enough to meet a guy who is not only gorgeous but also happens to be genuinely into you?”

  “Because I don’t like to get stuck in a rut, that’s why.”

  “If I were to follow your logic, then I shouldn’t marry David,” Claire cut in.

  “Oh, no. David is perfect. Don’t you even think about something like that!” Amber’s eyes widened with indignation. “I’m just not the settling kind, that’s all; but if I were, I’d marry a guy like David in a heartbeat.”

  “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that relationships are not easy. Once you’ve been together for a while, it’s easy to settle into a routine. Take me and David. Last week I almost suspected him of cheating…”

  “You did?” Amber’s hand flew to her face. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. We talked, and David explained everything. He really was busy at the office.”

  “And you believe him?” Lindsay wrinkled her forehead.

  “Of course, she believes him,” Amber cut in before Claire could answer. “A man like David has no need to lie. He can have any girl he chooses, but he’s in love with our Claire.”

  “It turned out that I overreacted a bit,” Claire conceded. “David really was busy at the office. Do I like it that he has such a crazy schedule? No, but it’s all about give and take, you know, and it’s worth it in the end.”

  Amber glanced at her watch, making it clear that this conversation was now closed. “I’ve got to get back to the office. I have a client meeting.”

  “Fine.” Claire shook her head. “But I really hope that you give Adam a chance.”

  Chapter 21

  “I just want to get some gum.” Claire motioned at the newsstand a few steps away from the restaurant. She certainly did not want anyone at the office to smell alcohol on her breath.

  “Hang on, I might have some.” Amber searched her purse frantically. “Here, I’ve got Tic Tac.” Amber held up a Tic Tac case with one remaining Tic Tac in it.

  “I need something more powerful than that.” Claire moved toward the newsstand.

  “Oh, but don’t you know that gum is bad for your teeth?” Amber exclaimed. “It can loosen fillings, you know.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Claire was almost near the window now. “A pack of Doublemint, please.”

  “Let the girl get her gum,” Lindsay added, casting a puzzled glance at Amber. “I might as well get some myself.”

  “Here you go, Miss. That’ll be two dollars, please.” The clerk handed Claire the gum. “Miss, it’s two dollars.”

  Claire stared back in frozen silence, her eyes glued to a crumbled tabloid magazine on the left side of the kiosk. The headline read:

  Flashlight’s exclusive story – Hollywood legend, Claudia Block and real estate heir, David Lawson – get the inside scoop on their steaming romance!

  Claire grabbed the magazine and stared at it in horrified incomprehension. On the front cover, there was a close-up photograph of David kissing a blond woman dressed in a lavender negligee. The photograph was so openly candid that it did not leave any doubts: this was no accidental peck on the cheek misconstrued as an amorous gesture. David’s lips were interlocked with that of the woman’s, and his hands held her body passionately. The two were completely lost in the moment, unsuspecting of the prying camera that had captured them. With the magazine still clutched in her hand, Claire stumbled away from the newsstand.

  “Claire, wait,” Amber started.

  “Hey, Miss, that’s five dollars for the magazine!” The clerk shouted.

  “Here.” Lindsay slapped ten dollars on the counter. “Did you know anything about this?” Lindsay glared at Amber.

  Amber looked away. “It was supposed to get taken care of. Now everything is ruined! We’ve got to convince Claire not to take the whole thing so seriously. It’s nothing really.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Her fiancé is on the cover of a sleazy tabloid playing tongue hockey with some ancient bimbo, and you say it’s nothing? I don’t have time for this.”

  Lindsay ran after Claire, who was now walking across the street in a somnambulistic state.

  “Wait up, I can explain.” Amber teetered after Lindsay in her high-heeled shoes.

  “Claire,” Lindsay placed her arm around her friend. “Here, let me take you home. I’ll take the rest of the day off and stay with you.”

  “Claire, wait.” Amber had finally caught up with them. “Please give David a chance to explain. He said it was nothing but a stupid mistake. He loves you so…”

  Claire shot Amber a look so loaded that if looks could kill, Amber would have crumbled into ashes right on the spot. “You mean you knew about this?”

  “I only wanted to protect you. The whole thing was supposed to get taken care of… Please, listen to me.”

  “You knew, and you let me carry on about how wonderful David was and how I over-reacted? I was a freaking idiot for not seeing the truth all this time, but you - you, Amber, are no friend of mine anymore.” Claire stormed off.

  “Claire, wait up!” Lindsay rushed after her. “Please wait. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, and I don’t want you t
o be alone now.”

  “Thanks, Lindsay. I know you mean well, but I need to be by myself now. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Fine,” Lindsay sighed. “But you know that I’m there if you need me. Just call and I’ll be right over.”

  “Thanks.” Claire nodded, knowing that no one could be “there” for her right now. She had never felt so alone in her life.

  David raced the floor of his office feverishly. If he could, he would literally kick himself for his stupidity. What was he thinking? Why did he let his dick ruin his life?

  Yesterday, his life had been perfectly on track. His father had been pleased with him handling the business. David had been a respectable member of the community, and engaged to the perfect bride.

  But now, David had become a laughingstock. Already, his answering machine was overflowing with messages from his friends: some were confused, some sympathetic, some congratulatory, and some downright insulting.

  The phone rang again, but David refused to pick it up, and the answering machine turned on.

  “You horny dog, you!” David recognized the voice as that of his old college roommate, Tyler. The two of them had not spoken in years, but apparently a magazine cover of David kissing Claudia had provided the needed stimulus to rekindle the neglected association. “I can’t believe you boinked Claudia Block. She may be an old broad, but she’s got class. Give me a call, man. Let’s stir up some mayhem.”

  David groaned. Since this morning, he had been trapped in nightmarish delirium. He could not handle any more “mayhem” in his life.

  David glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past noon. Roughly six hours had passed since he had spoken to his PR agent, and he had since received several reassuring emails from Amber, informing him that her minions were feverishly purchasing copies of Flashlight. Luckily, Flashlight was not nationally syndicated, but only released in a handful of states. While this knowledge was reassuring, it hardly alleviated David’s alarm. Even one issue of Flashlight with the picture of him and Claudia on the cover would be enough to ruin him. He knew it was pointless to hope that all copies of Flashlight could be bought out, but he hoped that at least his father would not see one. And then there was Claire…

  David had been trying to reach his fiancée since the morning. He had started by dispatching an enormous flower arrangement to her office. Of course, it was foolish to hope that a bunch of flowers would buy him absolution, but David thought it was worth a try. In his rush, he had forgotten to include a card, which he then thought was probably for the best. Hopefully, Amber’s forces would get to the newsstands before Claire did. But minutes ticked away, hour by hour, and there was still no sign of Claire. David had been calling her every half hour, but her answering machine picked up every time. Well, he would have to resort to something much more persuasive than flowers. David had already made an appointment at Harry Winston. He was contemplating a diamond or an emerald set – something that would dazzle Claire enough to forgive him.

  David glanced at his watch: it was almost one o’clock. He wondered how Amber’s efforts were progressing. So far, she had failed to reach the abominable Maury Wysotsky, but at least Amber’s last email did say that she had managed to buy out most of the Flashlight copies. Of course, David could have gone to his lawyer to deal with Flashlight owner, but that would have been equivalent to confessing to his father. Although Jake Wilson had been designated as David’s lawyer, David harbored no doubts about the fact that Jake Wilson’s allegiance had always remained with Allan Lawson, and he suspected that his father had purposefully appointed Jake to keep an eye on him.

  David’s cell phone rang, and he eagerly glanced at the caller id screen, hoping to see Amber’s number. Instead, he saw his father’s personal line. So, the old man had seen the scandalous headline and was calling to chastise him. What would the punishment be? Being sent off to some remote corner of the world to do charity work as penance for his sins? Or being forced to endure some humiliating public service: cleaning toilets at homeless shelters, for instance? Whatever it would be, David knew his father well enough to guess that the road back into the old man’s graces would be an arduous one. But perhaps all was not lost yet. It was entirely possible that the old man was simply calling to chat. Improbable, but still possible. Bracing himself, David picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Good afternoon, David. Although, come to think of it, there is nothing really good about this particular afternoon. Not after I read about my son gallivanting with some old Hollywood trash bag.” The old man spoke in a staccato-like voice that made the ticking of a metronome sound melodious.

  “Claudia is not a trash bag.” David’s temper took him by surprise. Surely, now was not the most opportune time to engage in a verbal duel with his father, but something inside him had snapped. Despite everything she had done, David could not bring himself to hate Claudia, at least not entirely. When he first saw the cover of Flashlight, he had been assailed by a powerful impulse to wring her neck, but this violent desire was as fleeting as it was fierce. The truth was that he still loved Claudia.

  “Well, if you’re finished defending your mistress’s honor, I would like to see you this afternoon. It’s rather urgent that we speak, David. You are a prominent figure in the company, and we’ve got to figure out a way to patch up this mess.” There was an irritable sigh in the receiver. “What were you thinking? Well, never mind that. I believe I know the answer to that question, but why didn’t you call me right away?”

  David remained silent. He had no answer to his father’s question, at least no civil answer that he could think of.

  “I expect you within an hour.” From the silence on the other end of the line, David understood that his father had hung up.

  His fingers drumming on the car wheel, David played out the conversation that was about to take place between him and his father. It was at least an hour drive to Westchester, which gave him ample time to consider all possible scenarios.

  These days Allan Lawson ruled from his home office, with only sporadic visits to the company headquarters in dire emergencies or for surprise inspections to keep his employees, including David, on their toes. Today would most certainly qualify as an emergency, and yet David’s father had chosen to summon David to his home office instead of coming down to the company office to chastise his errant son. David guessed that there was a deliberate significance behind the old man’s actions, but as he drove to his parents’ house, the house of his childhood, David felt strangely cavalier, almost to the point of being indifferent about what his father had in store for him. David’s lips stretched into an acidic smile as he remembered his father’s disciplinary tactics. Not that his father had had that many occasions to implement them; but still, there had been a few, with one particularly memorable.

  When David got caught smoking pot in his senior year at the boarding school, his father banished him to a Habitat for Humanity project at Botswana. The entire time that David was away, there were his father’s bodyguards lurking around, making sure that David did not come to any harm, and no doubt giving prompt updates to his father. Despite the humbling living quarters and grueling physical work, David had had a great time. He turned out to be quite good at carpentry, and he liked the people who worked by his side. There were volunteers of all ages, including kids his age - in particular, one very pretty girl… David wrinkled his forehead, trying to remember the name of his teenage crush. Sarah. That’s right, her name was Sarah. Her parents were missionaries, traveling from country to country, and by the age of seventeen Sarah had traveled to more places than David had ever dreamed of. He still remembered the elation he felt lying next to Sarah under the night sky. She never asked him about his father, and David never mentioned that he was the son of a real estate magnate. Back home, at the school he went to, there was a convoluted social structure. One had to navigate its intricate levels and subdivisions carefully or risk falling out of favor. But as David hammered nails into hou
se walls under the hot Botswana sun, there was no need to brag or impress anyone. The only measure of achievement was the quality of his work.

  Every night, after a long day of work, David would hurry to his bunk to write a long letter to his father, giving a detailed account of what he had built that day and the people he worked with. Internet connection was unreliable, and with only one computer in the main office, which was to be used for emergencies only, pen and paper was the most easily accessible means of communication. There was the phone, of course, but that too was restricted to minimum use, and David could not imagine cramming his overwhelming days into a ten-minute conversation. So he wrote diligently, deliberately, anxious to let his father know just how much he had learned.

  When David returned home after his summer away, his father had called him into his home office.

  “I trust that there won’t be any more incidents, David.” His father had slapped him on the shoulder.

  “No, sir, there won’t be.” David had assured the old man.

  “Good. Because I don’t want my only son building shacks in third world countries. I want you right here, where you can be of use to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other.” Allan Lawson had walked back to his desk.

  David had blinked back his disappointment and closed his father’s office door behind him. Later that night, David’s mother had the cook make cheese soufflé, which was David’s favorite dish.

  “I can only imagine how miserable you were in that dump, you poor thing. I’ve read every single letter that you wrote. It nearly broke my heart.” David’s mother placed his plate before him.

  “Didn’t Dad read any of them?” David blurted out.

  “He wanted to, honey, but you know how busy he is all the time.”

  David nodded and lifted a forkful of soufflé to his mouth, forcing himself to swallow it down. In Botswana the rations were plain, but it seemed to David that canned beans and soup were sweeter than any delicacy eaten under his father’s roof.