The Opportunist

We decided to take a short trip together. Somewhere close where we could lie in the sun and do nothing but nothing. We settled on Daytona Beach and made plans for him to pick me up after he was done with work. I was packed and ready after my last class. My overnight bag was at my feet and my hands clasped nervously in my lap. I wanted this weekend to be perfect. I had made my first visit to Victoria’s Secret and picked out something I thought he would like. Tonight was the night. We had been together for a year and a half. Cammie had wailed in excitement when I told her.

“Finally, you stupid cow,” she said handing me a supersized box of condoms. “Do you know how everything works? Because I can walk you through the basics.”

“If I wanted advice from a slut, I’d call a nine hundred number,” I said, snatching the box from her. She’d laughed and doled it out anyway.

Caleb’s knock never came. I tried calling his cell, which went straight to voice mail. Caleb was never late; he arrived everywhere he went at least ten minutes early. I tried to curb the thoughts of him being in an accident; however, eventually my worry got the best of me. I called the hospital but they informed me that no one by my description had been admitted that night. I thought about calling his parents, but considering how my last meeting with them went, I couldn’t get myself to dial the number. I re-cradled the phone and bit my nails instead. There was only one other option. He was still at work and had lost track of time. That had been happening a lot lately anyway, his job was so demanding he sometimes forgot the time we were supposed to meet somewhere or that it was our year and a half anniversary and we were supposed to buy each other garden gnomes in celebration. I wasn’t mad. I was okay with it. I would just drop by the office to remind him. Yes. I grabbed the keys and sprinted down the stairs.

The office building that housed Fossy Financial was located in the sugar district of Ft. Lauderdale, two blocks past the Bonjour Bakery where Sylvester Stallone bought his croissants at seven bucks a pop.

The building that housed Fossy was also home to numerous other services that only the wealthy could afford, so naturally there was a guard. He peered at me through swollen eyes that suggested too much liquor the night before and issued a grunt.

“Buildings closed for the evening,” he shot at me in an irritated voice.

“So why, are the doors open?” I cheeked, eyeing the few people milling around in the lobby. They were all swathed in buttery colored silks and custom made tuxedos. The whole scene screamed ‘Behold the Wealthy’ in the most obnoxious of ways.

“There’s a party on the fifth floor—a private party,” he emphasized. “The doors are closed to all customers.”

The fifth floor was Caleb’s floor. I realized this with a sinking feeling in my stomach. He never mentioned a party to me. True, he had an especially busy week at work but how does one forget something like that?

“Well, I just happen to be attending the Fossy party,” I said using my best snooty voice.

“Yeah? I don’t think so,” his eyes were roving over my jeans and t-shirt.

“My names on the list pal,” I said quickly. I didn’t even know there was a list. “Ava Lillibet. Check for yourself.” Ava was a colleague of Caleb’s, he spoke about her horrid garlic breath and melon sized breast implants often. I stuck out my chest just in case. My feeling about the list was correct and seconds later, the fat eyed guard located my fake name on the paper in front of him.

“Okee dokee, Ms. Lillibet. You can go right up,” I didn’t look at him as I whipped around and headed over to the elevators. Hopefully the real Ms. Garlic-breath wouldn’t make an appearance any time soon and blow my cover. The elevator ride was torturous. When I heard the ‘Ding’, I sprang out almost tripping over my own feet. I batted my eyes in surprise. There was no sign of desks, or fax machines or poker faced employees. The entire floor had been cleared of its serious nature, and replaced with elegantly laid dinner tables with floating candle centerpieces and polished crystal goblets. All of the shades in the office were open to show the impressive view of the Ft. Lauderdale waterway. Beautiful people mulled over trays of caviar that were traveling across the room in the hands of white-gloved servers. I pressed myself against the closest wall and began scanning the room for his face. No Caleb. Not with the flighty group of secretaries that always kept me on hold way too long and not with his stepfather, whose smile was now turning on a group of investors. I felt a rush of anxiety. What if he was waiting for me at my apartment right now and here I was snooping around his office like a paranoid…

I would do the halfway decent thing and leave, before I made a total ass of myself. I shimmied towards the exit sign hoping to find the stairs. I would have to pass through a corridor of what looked like offices but there was little chance any of them would be occupied while there was a party in full swing. I made a dash for it. I was almost to the end of the hall, perhaps three steps away from the stairs, when I heard his voice. I found it strange that over the trilling of Chopin and the constant humming of a dozen conversations, I heard his voice.

I heeled to a stop and cocked my head, not because I heard him speak, but because of the way he was speaking—urgent and intimate. I leaned in toward the closed door of his office and heard a woman’s throaty laugh. My heart kicked into third gear.

“Would you like to find out?” her voice was clearly flirtatious. You couldn’t mistake that, not even through the two inch paneled door. Chopin’s trilling Appassionato was playing in the background, as I jerked back.

Find out what? I held my breath and pressed my ear against the door. Did I even want to know?

“Some things are better left in the freezer,” my mother used to say.

I pressed closer until my face was squashed against the paneling. There was no more talking. Whatever was happening on the other side of that door was happening quietly. I took a step back. This was my cue—enter crazy girlfriend. I will not yell, I told myself. I will handle this with class and decorum. I grabbed the doorknob, twisted it and flung it open. The door moved aside like a curtain, revealing a scene that would be embedded on my memory for always. It would change everything. Ruin everything. Break everything.

Chapter Fourteen

The Present

I left. Leah could have him, but I didn’t want to be around when she did. I didn‘t take much; a couple of books and photo albums that belonged to my mother. Everything else had been destroyed. I stuffed everything into the car along with Pickles and hit the gas. I’d left my box of Mr. X memento’s laying in the center of my scarred coffee table, along with the envelope of pictures that Leah had stolen. She had stuffed five one hundred dollar bills into the envelope as well...I left those too. If I was going to do this—it had to be done. No more toting around trinkets that had the power to turn my heart into ground beef.