Second Chances (4 page)

Her third date wasn’t bad looking.  He had boyish good looks, and perceptive eyes.  Hannah could feel them boring into her, studying her every move.  “I know what you’re thinking,” she began quietly.  His eyebrows quirked and he opened his mouth, but she shook her head and continued.  “I really am a nice girl,” she said with a shrug.  “I have just had a terrible run of bad luck.”

“Tell me about it,” he said seriously, staring at her as though to memorize everything about her.  Sensing her hesitation, he added, “Call me Rick.”

Tilting her head to one side, she nodded.  “Okay…Rick.”  She sighed.  “Can I first begin by saying that I am not trying to rouse your sympathy?  Please understand that like everyone else, my wounds are mostly self-inflicted.”  His eyebrows knit together and he began to protest.

“No, really.  It’s true.”  Hannah smiled shyly.  “I chose Brett, my almost ex-husband.  I loved him and trusted him and believed him.  I let him handle our finances and I blindly went to work and deposited my check and concentrated on keeping up our apartment and raising the girls.”  She swallowed hard to control her emotions.  “And I believed him when he said that he was working late, unfortunately he was working late on a stripper.  They are currently living together, by the way.  And I even went away for the weekend with my folks over Labor Day, unwittingly allowing
him
to labor over emptying our apartment and accounts.” 

“Oh, Hannah,” he murmured and tried to reach across the table to comfort her.

She stiffened immediately and sniffled.  “I don’t want your sympathy, Rick.  I don’t want anyone’s sympathy.  I’ve been as strong and resourceful as I could possibly be to hold it together for this long.  Brett doesn’t give me any child support or alimony.  I am over-educated and underemployed.”  Her chin dropped and her eyes no longer met his.  “All I need is a leg up, not a hand out.  I need a place to stay while I pull it together.  I keep a nice house, cook amazing meals, and can carry on intelligent conversation…when I get to speak with adults, that is.”  Her eyes were shining now; sparkling with intensity as she gave the pitch she had practiced.  “It doesn’t have to be a lifelong commitment.  It could be on a month to month basis, or a trial period.”

Rick began sinking in his seat.  He had a sense about people that had never been wrong.  It was part of his job to ferret out fact from fiction.  Of course he was also supposed to be unbiased, but his heart went out to this woman.  And he was absolutely not what she was looking for.

Hannah paused.  Maybe she came on too strong, too brutally honest.  He was pulling away.  She could sense it.  She may have missed all the signs in Brett, but since that experience she had grown more aware more alert.  “I guess I sound as desperate as I am,” she mumbled.  “Don’t give me an answer tonight.  Just think about it, please.”  She reached into her purse.  “This is my phone number…until the end of the month,” she shrugged.

Frowning, Rick took it.  “I really do want to help you,” he began quietly.  “Let me think on it, okay?”  He slid out of the booth, and stood at the end of the table staring at her.  She was really attractive and far more fragile than she let on.  There was a tightness around her mouth that belied the stress she was under, the dark smudges under her eyes attested to her lack of rest.  He sighed and grasped her hand for a moment, determined to leave her with some measure of comfort.  “You will hear from me,” he said then he turned and walked away.

Hannah stared after him.  He seemed really…nice.  Rick seemed like the kind of guy she would have for a friend.  She sighed.  And yet, somehow, she knew that when he finally called, it wouldn’t be to offer her a place to live.  She glanced at her watch.  Her last chance would be arriving in just a matter of minutes.  To keep from watching the clock, she swirled the ice in her glass, glanced at a menu, and perused the bar.

Thirty minutes later, it was obvious he wasn’t coming.  She signaled for her check, carefully paid by cash, and exited the bar.  The tension was building.  She was afraid, not for herself, but for the girls.  Hugging her jacket around her, Hannah slowly made her way to her car.

Gavin had continued to watch her.  He hadn’t intended to stand her up.  He had sat there for over five hours.  The problem was…vulnerability. 
On both sides.  Somehow he knew that if he spoke to her, took the time to get to know her, he would like her.  He growled.  He didn’t want to like her.  He wanted to punish her.  This plan of hers to find some rich man to take care of her and her children was…sickening. 
She’s just being practical,
his heart argued. 
How desperate must she be?
 

When she stood to leave, Gavin waited an appropriate time and left.  He wanted to see what she drove, what direction she was heading.  Who was he kidding?  He was going to follow her and he knew it.  Unable to fight it, he left a hundred dollar bill on the bar and walked purposefully out.

The woman was just getting into a late model white SUV.  She pulled on her seat belt and cautiously glanced about before backing out of her parking space.  She even signaled.  A smile softened Gavin’s face.  She was making this entirely too easy.  She turned left onto 51.  And after a few short miles, she made another turn into an apartment complex.  It was a nice enough place, not too old, the property was well maintained and with decent vehicles in the parking lot.  She pulled up in front of a garage, parked the vehicle, and pulled down the visor.  A lit vanity was opened and she swiped at her cheeks while she practiced smiling.  He cocked his head to the side as he studied her.

All too quickly, she leapt from the vehicle, locked it, and headed down the hall to the last apartment on the left.  Once she was safely ensconced within, Gavin exited his own vehicle, grabbing a pen and napkin from the console.  Jotting down the building and apartment numbers, he headed back to the Lexus to make the long drive to Lake Norman.  He didn’t mind.  It would give him time to think.  And once he arrived, he would think some more.  Time was of the essence, after all.  And he knew he had to take a chance, make a decision, or lose out on this opportunity forever.  He would treat it like business, weigh his options, and reach a logical conclusion.  His analytical skills had never failed him.

Hannah practiced looking cheerful and optimistic for a few moments before heading into the apartment. 
Everything will work out,
she kept telling herself.  And clinging to that thought, she walked determinedly into the apartment to face her inquisition.

“Let the questions begin,” Hannah announced as she dropped her purse on the floor in front of her chair, kicked off her shoes, and sat, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

Smirking at her dramatic friend, Amy stretched and studied her for a moment.  “So, how’d it go?”  Her eyes twinkled expectantly as she awaited the response.

Hannah merely shook her head sadly.  “The first guy was a complete dud,” she began.  “Never.  Never will I be that desperate.”

Tipping her head in agreement, Amy shut the thick book before her to give Hannah her full attention.  “That bad, huh?”

“The worst.  He was…gross.”  It pained her to say that.  She didn’t really have a mean bone in her body.

“Gross?”  Amy questioned, trying to picture him in her mind.

“Over-weight…questionable hygiene,” Hannah swallowed, “and really sweaty.  It could have been nerves, I suppose.”  She shook her head.  “Then the second guy arrived.  He looked like a male model.”  Amy frowned, knowing where this was going.  Hannah never could find anything attractive about a pretty boy.

“Then, Tad ended up being a
tad
too pushy.  He wouldn’t leave, couldn’t take a hint,” Hannah complained.  “The third guy rescued me.”  She sighed and paused for a moment before continuing.  “The third guy, Rick, seemed really nice, but…”

“But what?  No sparks?  No potential?”  Amy leaned in to hear the response.

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I just don’t think that anything will come of it.”

“You never know,” Amy said.  “Since when are you the pessimist?”  She frowned.  “You have always been the most positive person I know.  Look at everything you’ve come through, and with a smile on your face.”  She reached over and rubbed Hannah’s knee.  “Well, tell me about the fourth guy.”

Hannah emitted a hollow laugh.  “There was no fourth guy.  He stood me up.”  She laid her head down on her knees for a second when a thought occurred to her.  “Hey, did anyone call while I was out?”  Amy bit her lip and shook her head sadly.  “Oh,” Hannah responded as she released her knees and slouched in the chair.  “Well.”  And she couldn’t think of another thing to say.

Drinking alone was dangerously close to becoming a habit for him, Gavin noted as he found himself once more swirling a glass of amber liquid while he gazed into the fire.  He needed a change.  He needed to move on.  He needed an outlet for his anger.  And though he now had cause for some mixed feelings, this woman would do.  She would serve as the target for his revenge quite nicely.  She and her brood of no doubt rambunctious children could move in.  He would be keeping her off the streets.  She would be grateful…and pliable.  He smiled as he sipped.  Once she had a taste of this life, she’d probably do anything to keep it.  He scowled.  Not that.  He wasn’t that much of a cad.  He’d simply work her as he’d never worked anyone before.  He’d find a way to humiliate her, break her down, and teach her entire gender a lesson.

Slowly he glanced at the mantle clock.  It wasn’t too late.  And with what he paid the man, he could damn well call him whenever his fingers itched to dial.  Too lazy to cradle the phone against his ear, he simply placed the man on speakerphone.  The detective sounded groggy as he answered.  “Ron, you weren’t sleeping, were you?”  He asked languidly.  Without waiting for a response, he continued.  “Grab a pen and paper because I have a job for you.”

The sound of crinkling paper answered him.  “How can I help you?”  Ron asked.  He was old and crusty, past the age of retirement, and the years of smoking in a car had taken their toll on him. 
He coughed for a moment before he cleared his throat and said, “Go ahead.”

“I need to know everything there is to know about this woman.  And I need it yesterday,” Gavin added after revealing her address. 

“No name, huh?”  Ron commented.

“Speak to the leasing office.  How hard can it be to get a name?  Christ,” he cursed irritated. 

The old man grumbled a moment.  “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Meyers.”

Gavin smiled icily.  He knew the man resented having to defer to him.  His father had first employed him some thirty years ago, and when the business was inherited, the employees were also.  “So, I’ll have everything I need by ten, I expect?”