Wild Thoughts Read online

  “You know plenty about selling yourself to the highest bidder.”

  Gloria tutted, completely unfazed by Lindsay’s brash comment. She sipped wine. “Selling myself, as you so grossly put it, kept food on the table, shelter over your head, and clothes on your back.”

  “I aspire to be like you one day. Honest and hardworking.” Lindsay sent a tight smile across the table.

  “As if you’re so much better than me.”

  “I earn every dime I make through hard work.”

  “And you’ve never lied to your fiancé? You’ve told him everything about you?”

  Lindsay diverted her gaze across the room.

  “That’s what I thought. He doesn’t know, does he?”

  Lindsay fiddled with the purse in her lap. “He knows about my father.”

  “But not everything, I’m sure.”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Because you sit in judgment of me, as if I’m some kind of monster.”

  “You changed my last name when you married Nina’s father,” Lindsay said.

  “Well my dear, you’re a grown woman now. Why don’t you change it back to Steele?” One corner of Gloria’s mouth quirked into a triumphant smile. “Precisely. Because you want nothing to do with the man who wreaked havoc on so many people.”

  Anger built inside Lindsay. “Why do you always have to badmouth him? You never loved him, did you? You loved what you thought he could do for you, and when he didn’t deliver, you bailed on the marriage.”

  Abe Steele’s money-making schemes had been enough to win Gloria, but then she learned he was actually broke. He had a mountain of debt, and they were eventually forced to downsize from a mansion in an exclusive neighborhood to a two-bedroom apartment. Instead of shopping at exclusive boutiques, they bought necessities at a local department store. For almost two years, there were no servants or drivers or weekly hair appointments. Lindsay didn’t remember those times because she’d been so little, but their “struggle” ended when Gloria met her second husband, Tyrus Winthrop, Nina’s father and heir to the Winthrop family of hotels.

  “I can pay my own bills and take care of myself fine, without a man. So when I get married, it’ll be for love.”

  “You’re so naïve, Lindsay. Despite what Shawn did, you’re holding out for love, aren’t you? You should forget about that feeling and find a man who can support you. Malik Brooks is a struggling artist and looks like a heartbreaker. Run. Forget passion. Forget emotion. He’ll only leave you with a broken heart.”

  “The way you were?” Lindsay asked.

  Gloria laughed and cut up lettuce on her plate. “That never happened to me with your father.”

  “Not Dad, but someone else.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Tyrus didn’t break my heart. I was in full control of both of my relationships because I didn’t allow my heart to get involved. You’d be wise to do the same. I’m simply giving you advice from years of living. You can listen or not, but I’m right.”

  “I know all about your broken heart, Mom.” This conversation was long overdue.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Lindsay leaned across the table and looked her right in the eyes. “I know all about you and Cyrus Johnson Senior, Sylvie Johnson’s brother. He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

  Gloria’s eyes went round as coasters. “Where did you get that information? You’re completely incorrect. Cyrus and I were always only friends.”

  “Not always.” Lindsay was on a roll, and she wanted to crush her mother in the same way Gloria had tried to crush her with those words about Malik and Shawn. “You loved Mr. Johnson.”

  “What would make you say that, and how did you find out about me and Cyrus?”

  “I read your journal.” Lindsay tilted her chin up, as if she’d done nothing wrong.

  Her mother wrote constantly and had done so for many years. Lindsay found one of her old journals laying out in her bedroom, as if she’d been rereading it. Lindsay should have walked right back out but didn’t. Instead, she picked it up and flipped through the pages.

  That’s when she learned about her mother’s relationship with the now-deceased patriarch of the Johnson family clan, her friend Stephan’s cousins who ran a multibillion-dollar beer and restaurant conglomerate out of Seattle. Based on the writings, her mother had been in love with Cyrus Senior and broken-hearted when he chose to marry Constance Nelson, a native Texan instead.

  One of Gloria’s hands curled into a claw on the table. “How dare you go through my personal things!” she hissed.

  “I didn’t go through your things. The journal was laying out for anyone to see.”

  “Whatever you think you read, you were wrong. End of story.” Gloria dropped her fork as if she’d lost her appetite and guzzled the last of her wine.

  “End of story because he chose someone else over you. You hated that he chose Constance Nelson, someone who you thought was weak and not nearly as interesting as you. You think you intimidated him and that he chose her because she was docile and submissive.”

  Gloria glared across the table. “Those were the thoughts of a young woman, and I no longer feel that way. I was hurt, but the truth of the matter is that I did have very deep feelings for him. I can’t deny that. But that episode in my life taught me a valuable lesson, one that I want to pass on to you and your sister. It’s foolish to let emotion dictate your life. Putting your life on hold or putting your thoughts and desires on hold to please a man is not any way to live. At the end of the day, he’s going to do what’s in his own best interest.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that he chose her because they were simply a better match? Malik and I are a good match.”

  Her mother shook her head. “You’re being foolish, and soon you’ll learn that everything I’ve said is correct. But sometimes people have to learn the hard way.”

  A pained expression overtook her mother’s face, and Lindsay experienced a stab of regret at her harsh words.

  “Don’t ever mention Cyrus to me again. I can’t repeat that enough. Don’t ever mention Cyrus Johnson to me again. What he and I shared was between us and a long time ago. Those thoughts were private, to help me sort through my feelings, and were not to be read by anyone else. Certainly not my child.”

  “Then don’t ever tell me what I should and shouldn’t do with my love life.”

  Gloria folded her arms and simply stared at Lindsay for a few moments. “As a parent, you try to protect your children. To make sure they understand how important they are to you. You can’t always explain the whys and wherefores. Let me tell you a secret, Lindsay. Something you obviously don’t know. I may not have loved Abe, but I did care about him. I was a good wife, but he was a bad husband. When I told you to forget about him after he killed himself—”

  “How could you say that to me? He was my father!” Her voice trembled with pain and anger. This was part of the reason why they couldn’t get along. She’d never recovered from her mother’s callous disregard for her father’s life and terrible advice to get over him.

  “Listen. To. Me. It’s tragic that he killed himself, but I knew why he did it. He’d lost everything. He’d hurt a lot of people.”

  Lindsay swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Gloria continued. “The people that he hurt, they had every right to be angry. You have no idea how many lives he destroyed with his get-rich-quick ideas and how many family members grieved because they’d lost money they’d saved, or even their life savings. That’s why I changed your name. I didn’t want his dirt to stain you, too. I wanted you to have a fresh start.” She took a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. “There was one woman in particular, and I’ll never forget, because he called and told me about her. I should have known then what he was going to do, because he was riddled with guilt. He said this Jones woman was sick with cancer and she had a child—”

  “What? What did you say?”

  “I said this Jones w
oman—”

  “Do you remember her first name?” A pounding started in her temples.

  “Well…yes.”

  “What was it?” Lindsay held her breath.

  “Lindsay, what is this about? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “What was her first name!” She raised her voice to such a level that people at nearby tables turned and looked at them.

  “I-I don’t know. I think it was Bertha or Betsy or...Bessie! Her name was Bessie Jones.”

  Chapter 20

  Tonight was Malik’s first gallery showing. Lindsay was there and he should be in a great mood, but something was off.

  His gaze followed her around the crowded room as she chatted with patrons. He was surprised she’d agreed to attend the event. She’d been acting strange all night. No, since Monday. The day she signed the contracts, she didn’t call, though he’d left her two messages. She finally got back to him the following day and gave him the good news, but when he told her they needed to get together and celebrate, she said she was busy and couldn’t.

  She’d been busy every night and day since then. Whenever he tried to make plans with her, she gave a paltry excuse, muttering about a full schedule and needing time alone to concentrate and work on her book. Which didn’t make sense because all her promotional appearances were finished until the book signing in New York later this month, and she’d worked on the manuscript at his place for weeks with no problem.

  Last night he’d finally shown up at her place and demanded she tell him what was wrong. She denied anything was wrong, but he knew she was lying. He’d gotten to know her well enough to recognize she wasn’t herself.

  Later, he’d make her talk. He missed her energy and sense of humor. He missed spending time with her and waking up with her soft body pressed against his as if his king-size bed weren’t big enough to accommodate them both.

  “This is nice,” an older woman said. She looked about in her late forties with silver streaking her shoulder-length hair and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. “What is it?”

  She circled the bronze piece he’d been standing in front of, set on a three-foot pedestal to bring it closer to eye level.

  “You can’t tell?” Malik asked, smiling. He wasn’t insulted. Her question gave him a chance to discuss the piece.

  The woman circled it one more time and shot a coquettish look at him. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to tell me.”

  “It’s an abstract but represents a woman whose heart was broken by a man. Notice the stooped shoulders.”

  “Oh yes, now that you mention it, I can see that. There’s her head, and the curve there represents her back and she’s hanging her head. Is that correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  She glanced up at him. “So there’s a story here, isn’t there? Are you the heartbreaker?”

  He laughed softly. “No, I promise. I was inspired by someone I knew—a woman close to me.” The piece had been inspired by his mother, but he didn’t intend to share such a personal detail with the woman.

  A man, whose hair was completely gray, walked up. “Is this the one you want, love?” he asked.

  The woman looked at Malik. “Yes. This is the one I want.”

  Malik didn’t miss the double entendre, but he thanked them and watched as the couple walked over to the gallery owner to make the purchase.

  At the end of the night, he thanked the owners and went in search of Lindsay. He’d rather take her home and get to the bottom of the tension between them, but he’d been invited to an after-party by some of the younger attendees, and he wanted to tell Lindsay. Maybe going out together would put her in better spirits.

  He found her near the door. “Man, what a night. I sold two pieces, and I was able to make a few more contacts with people who were interested in my work.” He flung an arm around her neck and pulled her close. “All thanks to my fiancée.”

  “Congrats.” She smiled up at him. Not the usual Lindsay smile. This one was devoid of sensuality and affection.

  “I was invited to an after-party. You interested in going?”

  They walked out to the truck, and Lindsay stood aside so he could open the door. “After-party? You’ve obviously got the networking thing down pat.”

  Keys in hand, Malik paused and looked at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She turned around to face him. “Just an observation. You’ve really mastered the art of being friendly and flirting.”

  “You’re the one who told me to be friendly and play the flirting game.”

  “And you sure know how to play, don’t you?”

  “What’s going on? I’m tired of the silent treatment, and now you’re acting like I did something wrong.”

  “Sorry I’m not falling all over you like the other women in there.”

  He gritted his teeth. “For the past week you’ve been acting weird, and I tried to ignore it, but now you’re accusing me of something that I don’t particularly appreciate. You’ve been distant, and now you want to act as if doing exactly what you told me to do is a problem.”

  “I never said your behavior was a problem.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s in your voice. It’s in your tone. It’s in the way you’ve been acting for the past week.”

  “Nothing has been different the past week. You’re imagining things.” She didn’t even look at him when she told that bold-faced lie.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing. Can we go?”

  When she moved to enter the truck, he shut the door. “No. Something’s up.”

  Lindsay sighed heavily. “You want to know the truth? I think maybe you’re playing the role a little too well. So well, I have to wonder if you’ve been playing a role with me all along. Has our whole relationship been a ruse to keep me happy and helping you? We didn’t exactly start out the right way, did we? And you’ve been excellent at playing my fiancé since the beginning.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She was actually accusing him of faking his feelings to use her.

  “I introduced you to the right people and got you this showing. My sister’s company bought a couple of your pieces, and your website is up and running. Am I imagining things? Maybe. Or maybe when I no longer prove useful, you’ll dump me.”

  “You’re delusional, you know that? I can’t do this right now, Lindsay. I’m on a natural high, and I got invited to an after-party that I intend to go to.”

  She placed a hand on her hip. “And that’s another thing. You’re going to after-parties now? When we first got together, you didn’t like going to events, and all of a sudden you’re Mister Night-on-the-Town. You, Mr. Introvert? Go. I’m not coming with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “By your own words, you introduced me to the right people, and yes, I charmed them, but I earned every dime people are spending on my work. According to you, my work is good. Or was that all bullshit—smoke you were blowing up my ass?”

  “Go have fun, Malik.”

  “So you’re really not coming with me? I’m supposed to go by myself?”

  “I’m no longer in the mood. I’m tired, and I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s been a long freaking day. A long week.” She stalked away from him.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Home.” She pulled out her phone, clearly intending to order a car.

  Malik came up behind her. Grabbing her shoulder, he forced her to spin around and face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing.

  He decided to try another tactic and took a deep breath to calm down. He spoke in a soothing voice. “Talk to me.”

  “Nothing’s. Wrong!” She yanked her body away from him. “I’m done, okay?”

  An invisible fist punched him in the stomach. The shock ricocheted throughout his entire body. “Done with what?”

  “I need a break,” s
he said thickly.

  “From me?” He could barely get the words out.

  “Yes,” she said, keeping her head bent over the phone.

  Another blow. This time pain stabbed his heart and expanded into every corner of his chest. “Okay, I get it. We did all the promotions, and the only thing left is the signing in New York, and you don’t really need me for that anyway, do you? So I should move on and forget about what’s happened between us.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “You’re the one who told me to get out there. Get a website and network and all that crap. And now you’re mad?”

  “I’m not mad. I’m disappointed. You’re like everyone else, and I guess I thought you were different.”

  “I don’t even know what that means!” Malik said, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

  “It means that you’re already high on the drug of fame. Look at you. When I first met you, you wore jeans and a T-shirt everywhere, for God’s sake. Now you’re dressing better, wearing jackets, and your beard game is really on point. You used to barely talk to people, now you’re flirting and carrying on like a politician running for office. Good job. I’m so happy for you.”

  Malik didn’t know the woman before him. “I thought this was an improvement.”

  “It is. A vast improvement, but you’ve clearly allowed the fame to go to your head, and I find that sad and pathetic.”

  “So I’m pathetic now?” He laughed bitterly. “No sweetheart, that would be you and your fake accusations because you can’t have your way. Tell the truth. The reason you’re upset is because you’re jealous.”

  “Jealous?” she shrieked. “Of what, exactly?”

  “Of interviewers and your listeners asking about me. What’s the matter? Did your plan work so much better than you expected that now you can’t stand it?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. I was minding my own business and then you came along and fucked up my head. I never wanted this notoriety. If anybody used anyone in this relationship, you used me. The whole fake engagement was your idea because you lied and needed to salvage your reputation. I went along with it because I needed the goddamn money. But let’s be real. Neither of us needs each other anymore, do we? So forget a break. I’m done being treated like shit. Effective immediately, our relationship is over.”