Fifth Avenue

CHAPTER EIGHT

From the bar, Diana Crane watched the couple alight from the elevator and move through the crowd. She watched Celina laugh, watched the man at her side smile and watched their arms intertwine as they joined George and Elizabeth at the waterfall.

The man was tall and built, his sandy hair cut short, his face rugged and handsome. A few people recognized him along the way, but he didn’t seem to notice. She recognized him from the Journal article-Jack Douglas. His attention was on Celina and for that, Diana couldn’t have been more pleased-or thankful.

She turned to Eric and knew, by the surprised look on his face, that he had been watching them too.

“How’d you like to get out of here?” she said. “We’ve made our appearance, shaken hands with all the right people. George won’t miss us.” She took a sip of champagne. “By the looks of things, neither will Celina.”

Eric said nothing.

“I have a car waiting outside for me,” Diana said.

“I’m going nowhere with you, Diana.”

“It’s just for coffee, Eric.”

“I doubt that,” Eric said. “Unless you were planning to serve the coffee in bed.”

Diana’s eyes were like a light suddenly turned to his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m tired of you chasing me,” he said. “If you think my seeing Celina with another man is going to make me want to jump into bed with you, you’re wrong. I’m not interested in you. Never have been. Never will be. Now, why don’t you do yourself a favor and get lost? I’m staying here.”

Diana placed her half-empty glass of champagne on the bar. “They’re a good looking couple,” she said. “I hope it works out for them.” And then she was gone, stepping into the crowd, ignoring Leana, who had been standing beside them, listening.

“What was that all about?” Leana asked.

Eric shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.” He tipped back his drink and studied Leana over the rim. She looked beautiful tonight. “What do you think of the party?” he asked.

She couldn’t have heard him right. “What do I think of the party?” she repeated. “Eric, what do you think I think of the party?” She leaned beside him against the bar. From where she stood, she had a clear view of Celina, who was standing with her back to the waterfall, listening to Elizabeth, her red dress among the room’s stars.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said.

“Forget it.” She motioned towards Jack Douglas. “Who’s he?”

“Damned if I know.”

“I just saw them leaving the family elevator together.”

“So did everyone else. Think they’re seeing each other?”

“No idea.”

“Now probably isn’t the best time for me to find out, is it?”

“If by that you mean going over there and asking Celina in front of Mom and Dad, then, no, I don’t think now is the best time to find out. But I would ask her. You have every right to know.”

“Why haven’t you two ever gotten along?”

Before she could respond, lights in the lobby dimmed, the room fell silent and her father’s voice rose above the crowd. Leana skimmed the sea of heads for him and found him standing in the center of the dance floor with Celina at his side.

“Tonight’s a special night for me,” George said to the crowd. “Owning a building on Fifth Avenue has been a dream of mine since I was a boy. But dreams come hard and this dream wouldn’t have happened without the support of my wife and the help of my daughter, Celina.”

He looked at Celina. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. “ He touched his glass of champagne to hers. “Here’s to many more years of our working together.”

The crowd burst into applause. Just as Celina was giving George a kiss, Leana looked away and asked a barman for a bottle of champagne. When the man handed her one, she grabbed Eric by the hand and led him into the crowd.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Leana’s answer was as clear as the hurt in her voice. “To get our minds off her.”

They walked down the hallway in silence, Leana slightly ahead of Eric, Eric glancing into the rooms that were on either side of them. They were in George and Elizabeth’s penthouse and as they passed one of the sitting rooms, lightning flashed, illuminating for an instant the family’s cat, Isabel, who sat poised and alert on an orange damask sofa.

They stepped into the room that was at the end of the hall. Leana stopped in the doorway. She gazed across the library at her father’s desk, which was illumined by a green-shaded lamp. “I thought I turned that light off earlier,” she said.

Eric brushed past her and moved into the room. He dropped into a chair and closed his eyes. Would the room never stop spinning?

Leana remained in the doorway. “I know I turned that light off.”

“Obviously you didn’t, Leana. The light’s still on.”

“I don’t care if the light’s on. I was here earlier. Before I left with that man from security, I know I turned that light off.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying? Somebody has been here.”

“Big deal? It could have been Celina and her new man.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe.”

“Would you please just open that bottle of champagne? I’m thirsty.”

She crossed to where he was sitting and turned on the lamp beside him. Eric winced and brought up a hand to shield his eyes. “I think you’d better pass on the champagne,” Leana said. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like heaven.”

“Wait till tomorrow.”

She went to the windows that were behind her. In the city’s deep glow, sleek black skyscrapers loomed dark against the sky. Eric settled further into his seat.

“You know something, Leana?” he said. “You really are beautiful.”

“You know something, Eric? You really are drunk.”

“You know what my favorite memory of you is?”

She looked at his reflection in the window. “No.”

“You were fifteen years old, I had known you for maybe five months and you told me that you and your best friend at the time-what was her name? Asia Something-were planning on attending Christmas Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in the nude. Wearing long jackets, of course.”

She turned away from the windows. “Her name is Asia Ward,” she said, smiling. “And we’re still friends. But cut me some slack. That’s your favorite memory of me? If it is, I’m more fucked up than I thought I was.”

“It’s one of them,” Eric said. “I can still remember you and Asia sitting between George and Elizabeth, red-faced, trying not to laugh, giving me the eye when no one else was looking. I remember thinking that Celina would never do this, and it was then that I knew you and I would become friends.”

Leana popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and brought the bottle to her lips. As she drank, she became aware that Eric was looking at her intently. “I have a favorite memory of you," she said.

“And what’s that?”

“Do you remember all the letters you wrote to me while I was at school in Switzerland?”

He nodded.

“I was strung out on coke then and you knew. I’ve never asked you how you knew.”

Eric hesitated, his mind fogged by the alcohol, but then he remembered and explained. “That week Celina and I visited? I needed a pen for something and found, in your desk drawer, beneath a pile of papers, a half-empty vial of coke.”

Leana closed her eyes. “And you never told anyone,” she said. “Not Celina. Not Mom or Dad. You decided to let me handle the problem on my own-which I couldn’t. But you had faith in me that I could. All those letters you wrote, encouraging me, letting me know that you were there if I ever needed someone to talk to, did I ever thank you for them? And for keeping my problem to yourself?”

“I’m sure you must have.”

Leana smiled. “You’re being kind. I was so screwed up, I’m sure I didn’t. But I will now. It’s what we addicts are supposed to do. Thank you, Eric. Thanks for believing in me when no one else did.”

She folded her arms and turned back to the windows. In the reflection of the glass, she watched Eric stand, uncertainly at first, but with greater control as he removed his dinner jacket and flung it over the back of the chair.

Soon he was standing behind her, running his fingers through her hair, brushing his lips against her bare shoulder. Although she knew what was happening was wrong, that it would never amount to anything more than this, Leana didn’t resist him. In fact, she welcomed Eric’s touch. Right now, more than anything, she needed to be loved and held.

Across the room, crouched motionless beneath George Redman’s desk, Vincent Spocatti listened. The big leather wingback was pressed hard against his chest. His head was twisted down and uncomfortably to the side. His gun was drawn and ready to fire if he had to.

He had been going through the files on Redman’s desk when Leana Redman and her friend stepped into the room, taking him by surprise. What infuriated him more than nearly being caught was the fact that he had found nothing here that would be of interest to Louis Ryan. Not one file on Redman’s desk had to do with the takeover of WestTex Incorporated.

But there were other ways to get the information Ryan needed. And if Ryan was willing to pay Vincent’s price, Vincent could get it for him.

He strained to hear where they were in the room and could hear the sound of their kissing. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay in this position. The muscles in his neck were beginning to knot, as were the muscles in his back.

And then he heard footfalls on the carpet.

He looked through a small crack in the desk’s front panel and saw a ripple of white cloth, a pair of tanned legs, moving in his direction. His hand tightened around the gun. The light above him clicked off. Spocatti tensed, ready to shoot. Leana said, “Remember that, Eric. I turned the light off. I’m not crazy.”

“Yes, you are,” Eric said. “Now, come on. Let me show you how crazy I can be.”

Spocatti waited until he was certain they had left the room before he pushed back the chair, stood and tucked the gun in his holster. As he smoothed his gloved hands down the front of his black dinner jacket, it occurred to him that that was twice this evening that Leana Redman had nearly blown his cover. He stretched his neck, tried to ease a cramp.

Payback, he thought as he eased out of the room and stepped into the hall, is a bitch.

In the lobby, Spocatti stepped out of the elevator, looked for Celina Redman, found her near the buffet talking to a man, and approached them.

"Celina Redman?" he asked.

They both turned to look at him. "Yes?" she said.

He showed her his security card. “May I have a word with you in private?"

The elevator doors opened and Celina stepped into her parent's penthouse. Why had Leana asked to meet here? What couldn't be discussed in the lobby? She had promised Jack a dance and she wanted to get back to him.

She could hear the sound of voices at the end of the hall.

Celina moved in their direction, finally coming to a stop beside one of the bedroom doors. Although she could hear only pieces of what was being said, she recognized the voice as Leana’s and knew at once that she should not be standing here, that something was wrong. Still, she listened. Now the voice was clearer. “Please don’t be embarrassed. It happens sometimes. You’ve just had to much to drink.”

Celina moved closer to the door. “Look,” Leana said. “Why don’t you just lie down? You can sleep here tonight. Mom and Dad won’t mind, and I promise they won’t know that I was here with you. Neither will Celina. It’ll be our secret.”

At that moment, Celina stepped into the bedroom. Leana was sitting at the edge of the bed in a thin silk kimono and she turned away from Eric to face her. While Celina noticed that her sister was naked beneath the kimono’s brightly colored fabric, she didn't see the genuine flash of surprise in Leana’s eyes.

She shut the door behind her. “I got your message, Leana. Your friend from security gave it to me.”

Startled, Eric sat up in bed. He looked from Celina to Leana, then realized he was naked and drew a sheet to cover himself. “What message?”

Celina’s face was composed, but inside, she was furious. She leveled Eric with a look. “I don’t want to hear a word from you,” she said. “Not one word.”

“It’s not what you think,” Eric said.

“It’s exactly what I think,” Celina said. “And I don’t want to see you again. What we had is over.” She looked at Leana, who was standing now, holding the kimono shut with tightly clenched hands. “I just want to know one thing before I leave-what did I ever do to you to deserve this? Why did you tell that man to meet you here?”

Leana shook her head. She felt confused, embarrassed and ashamed. Never had she wanted this to happen. And yet it had. But how?

“Answer me,” Celina said. “I have a right to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leana said. “I never gave anyone a message.”

The silence stretched between them like a dangerously fraying thread. Celina turned to leave. “I never expected you to tell me the truth,” she said. “You always were a liar, Leana. And a coward.”

Hand trembling, she opened the door and was about to step through when she stopped and faced her sister a last time. “You can pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, but I know you planned this. I know you told that man to have me meet you here. I think you’ve been waiting years for this moment. To see me hurt.”

Before Leana could say anything more, Celina was gone.

In the silence that passed, Eric looked across the room at Leana. She was dressing. Behind her, Manhattan pushed up a glittering wall of glass and concrete.

“Where are you’re going?” he asked.

“After her, of course.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” He slid off the bed.

“I’ve done nothing, Eric. That’s the point.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You call having Celina catch us in bed together nothing? Are you fucking out of your mind?”

“If what she said is true, I call it being set up.” She slipped into her dress. There was a tiny rip in the back near the zipper. Earlier, Eric had torn it in haste.

“You know you’ve ruined whatever chance I might have with her, don’t you?”

Leana shot him a fierce warning look. “This was not my doing, Eric. I’ve told you that. Now, drop it.” She stepped into her shoes, walked past him to the dressing table and fixed her hair. She had to speak to Celina, she had to find out who had given her that message, she had to clear her name.

A thought occurred to her while she brushed her hair. Leana always had wanted to see her sister hurt-but never like this.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “I know you had nothing to do with this. It’s just that-”

“Apology accepted,” Leana interrupted. He was drunk. She didn’t want to hear him talk. She just wanted to leave this room and find Celina. Quickly.

“Who told her? Who knew we were here?”

She looked at his reflection in the dressing table’s mirror. “I’m not sure who told her. But I intend to find out.” She turned in front of the mirror, thankful that her hair covered the rip in the back of her dress.

“I’ll come with you,” Eric said, and Leana noticed as she faced him that he had put on his pants. The rest of his clothes were still on the chair beside him.

“You need to stay here,” she said. “Celina can’t handle seeing us both right now.”

She began to step past him. And as she did so, Eric pulled back his hand and struck her hard across the face with the belt he'd been hiding behind his back.

The blow took Leana by surprise and she fell to the floor, blood spraying from her nose and mouth, spotting the beige carpet. Before she could defend herself, before she even knew what was happening, Eric was straddling her, swinging the belt, raining blows on her thighs, shoulders, face and breasts.

Her dress ripped from the strain of their struggling. Her cries of pain and help echoed hollowly in the room.

“You fucking bitch!” he shouted. “You knew what she meant to me! You’ve ruined everything Celina and I could have had together!” He pulled back the belt and struck her once more across the face, leaving her cheek hot and swollen. A dusting of red stars flowered before Leana’s eyes as she skated closer to the gray edges of unconsciousness. Somewhere, far in the dark corners of her mind, she realized the blows could kill her.

And then Eric punched her. Hard. In the mouth.

Leana forced herself to think through the daze. If she tried to resist him, he would hurt her worse than he already had. She tried to move her arms, but they were pinned beneath his knees. And then her mind froze. Eric was forcing her legs apart. She felt his hand race up her dress and tear at her underwear. His fingers clawed and searched.

Leana struggled and was about to scream when Eric clamped an open hand over her mouth. She felt wetness and smelled a heady mixture of Scotch and blood. Her blood.

Eric pressed his mouth against her ear. “Just remember,” he said, as he ground his hips into hers, “you wanted this.”

And then Leana unexpectedly relaxed against him. Eric looked at her with such surprise that he involuntarily relaxed with her.

It was then that she made her move.

She bit hard into his hand and shoved him off her when he recoiled. Her heart thundering, her sense of direction shattered, Leana stumbled to her feet. The door was across the room, a million miles away. She ran for it.

Tried to run for it.

Eric grasped her ankle and she lost her balance. The room whirled. Leana knew it was over at the same instant her forehead struck the carpet.

But Eric did nothing. He was on his feet, suddenly aware of what he had just done. How could he have lost control like that? What had gotten into him?

He looked at Leana. She was lying motionless on her stomach, her head buried in the crook of her arm. The area of carpet surrounding her was stained with her blood. A wave of nausea overcame him and he wondered how badly she was hurt. She wasn’t moving…

He glanced at his watch. How long had Celina been gone? Four minutes? Five? If she had told George what she had seen, he would be coming up here now.

His drunken haze lifting, he stepped over Leana, locked the bedroom door and hurried into his clothes.

Leana waited. She listened to the sound of Eric dressing and peered across the room. He was standing in front of the dressing table, tucking in his shirt, quickly checking his appearance in the oval mirror. He was fully dressed now-except for the belt, which was still clutched in his hand.

He faced her. There was a moment when their eyes met, when a universe of hatred passed between them, and then Eric said calmly, “These are your options-you can either get yourself cleaned up and pretend none of this happened, or you can run to your father and tell him everything.” He moved toward her, the belt swinging like a pendulum by his side. “And doing that, Leana, would be a mistake.”

As he approached, Leana recoiled, her eyes riveted on the belt. A section of it was stained with her blood. “Get out,” she gasped. “I’ll call the police.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Eric said. “But I promise you this-if you do call the police, or go to your father, I’ll have a contract put out on you so goddamned fast it’ll make your head spin. You hear me? I hope so. Because I will do it. I’ve got the money and I’ve got the contacts. If anything happens to me, you die. It’s that simple.”

The elevator door slid open and Celina hurried out. She slipped through the crowd, avoiding the questioning stares, not stopping until she came upon the twin glass doors that were across the lobby.

Curtains of rain were billowing down the avenue, lashing the windows and the reporters on the sidewalk. She turned to ask a doorman for an umbrella and came face to face with the man from security who had given her Leana’s message.

He nodded at her.

Celina moved in his direction.

“That message you gave me-you’re certain it came from my sister?”

“She told me herself she was your sister.”

She had to be certain it was Leana who did this. “Describe her for me."

“She has long dark hair and she’s pretty. I only talked to her for a few seconds.”

“What she was wearing?”

“A white dress, I think. It left one of her shoulders bare.”

Celina turned away from the man, her stomach sinking. She was about to leave when she saw her father moving in her direction, sifting through the crowd, his expression grim. “We need to talk,” he said.

She wanted out of here, but she didn’t want to tip him off. She followed him to an area just behind the waterfall.

“I just got off the phone with RRK. They’re worried about what happened today. I think they’re going to back out of the deal. They're waiting to see what the police find.”

“And?”

“If there’s even the slightest hint that those spotlights were rigged in protest of our deal with WestTex, they’ll pull financing. Richards says it’ll be a public relations nightmare if we takeover that company in lieu of what’s happening in the Middle East.”

“Maybe in the beginning,” Celina said. “But when the public learns what we’ve done, we'll be fine.”

“They're panicking,” George said. “They know that until WestTex is ours, our agreement with Iran is only verbal. They feel there’s a strong possibility the Navy won’t move into the Gulf on the date we’ve been given. They're going to pull out. I can feel it.”

“So, let’s find someone else.”

“Agreed. I’m having lunch with RRK tomorrow. If it falls apart, how do you feel Ted Frostman at Chase?”

“I like Ted,” she said. “He’s a good guy. Think he’ll play?”

“Maybe. And God knows he owes us. I’ll set up a meeting with him.”

“Are we good here?" she said. "I’d like to go home.”

George looked at her in surprise. “Home? Are you all right?”

If she told him what had happened, it would ruin his evening.

“Today was pretty intense,” she said. “And I’m feeling every bit of it.” She looked over the crowd. “The party will wind down soon. I’ve spoken to everyone I needed to speak to. If you don’t mind, I’d like to call it a day.”

It was pouring when she left Redman International. Those members of the press who hadn’t been invited inside immediately started taking her picture. She nodded at the short, white-haired doorman standing beneath the canopied entrance and together, they hurried toward the limousine parked at the curb.

The press followed, recording her exit for the world. Lights popped. She stepped into the back of the car, told the driver to get her out of there and was home fifteen minutes later, packing Eric’s belongings.