Straight Talk
CHAPTER ONE
A bruising hand gripped my upper arm and jerked me around. Startled, I dropped my purse. A tough guy glared at me with glassy eyes. His thin lips curled into a sly sneer that turned my mouth dry.
A young drug addict. My stomach fisted. Damn! I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings. The chill of the rainy Tuesday evening in Boston crept into my body stiffened with fear.
“You’re Samantha Hartwell, ain’tcha?” the druggie demanded. His eyebrows angled into a fierce scowl that sent fear skittering down my spine.
I nodded, surprised he knew my name. Not a good sign.
He moved his face close to mine. His warm breath reeked of garlic and alcohol. I swallowed hard and yanked against his painful grasp.
“You stay the hell away from Caitlin, you hear?” he snarled. He jerked me closer, making me stumble. “Stop fillin’ her head with all that art stuff. She’s not doing that no more.”
My mind took a moment to grasp what he’d said. This was about Caitlin? The guy was shouting and practically wrenching my arm off because of Caitlin Rafferty?
“I don’t know who in hell you are, but Caitlin has real talent.” My voice shook, but I forced myself to stand my ground. Nobody was going to tell me what I could or could not do.
He jabbed a finger at me. “Stay away from Caitlin, bitch. She ain’t no artist. She’s my woman and she does what I tell ‘er. If I hafta come back and find you, you’re gonna be sorry.”
He shoved me against my car and marched away as if he owned the sidewalk beneath his feet.
Adrenaline left me in a torrent of tumbling waves, turning my bones to jelly. I collapsed against the car and glanced all around, but the leather-jacketed goon who’d threatened me was nowhere in sight.
Gathering strength, I picked up my purse and made my way up the stairs to my fourth-floor office in the Back Bay. I’d need to calm down before I could drive home. Caitlin had told me about her boyfriend, Anthony Carbone, but I had no idea he was such a controlling jerk.
Inside my office, I paced restlessly trying to shake off the fear that clung to me like a tiger’s claws. I’d founded Straight Talk, my non-profit consulting business, to help other young women grab a foothold in business and get a grip on their unsteady lives. For some, the task was easy, but for others, like Caitlin Rafferty, the challenge was overwhelming.
Taking a deep breath, I told myself to be strong. But Anthony’s sharp-edged words, the way he’d so easily bruised my arm, and the sickening odor of his breath made my stomach churn. I eased myself into a chair. It would take more time to gather my wits before I attempted to return to my car.
I wouldn’t call the police. That would cause problems for Caitlin and might hinder what I was doing for the other women who’d asked for my help. I’d come too far to let anyone ruin my plans. Running Straight Talk was what kept me focused…and sober. Without it, I didn’t know what I’d do. It wasn’t until I’d stated my name before a circle of people in AA that I’d begun to understand what I’d been given—another chance at life, an opportunity to help others, a reason for living.
###
Friday afternoon, I replaced the phone receiver and sighed. I’d told no one Caitlin’s boyfriend had threatened me. Too many people would tell me to forget her; it was too dangerous. But I couldn’t do that. As I saw it, her entire future rested in my hands.
Advising troubled women in start-up businesses was no easy task. I rose to stare out the window of my office and watched college crews in their shells row steadily along the Charles River, dipping their oars in the water in a regular rhythm that soothed me.
Zach Adams stuck his head into the office. “Tough day?”
I turned and smiled at my best friend. “Tough week. Glad it’s Friday.”
“Me too. Let’s get out of here and party.”
I laughed. Zach was a recovering alcoholic like me and our idea of partying was to have an extra Diet Coke.
“Derek Roberts’ photographs are showing at the Winthrop Gallery on Boylston Street. I said I’d drop by. Want to come?”
“Sure. He’s famous and I’d like to see his work. Anything to shake off this bad feeling I’ve got about Caitlin.”
He raised his eyebrows.
I was still at a loss at how best to handle the situation. She hadn’t shown up for our meeting yesterday. Her absence could be due to any number of reasons. I hoped Anthony Carbone wasn’t one of them.
“Between her family problems, her boyfriend, and her drinking, she’s like a freight train running out of control. There’s no stopping her.”
“Some people just don’t know when they’re on the right track,” Zach grinned at me.
I groaned at his usual wacky sense of humor and picked up my purse. “You’re incorrigible. Let’s go have some fun and meet this Derek guy. Could be interesting.”
“You sure you won’t marry me?” Zach’s voice was teasing, but his expression told me he might be serious.
“You know how I feel about you.” I gave him a little punch on the arm. He was my best friend and I adored him.
“Yeah, you think of me as some kind of brother.”
We looked at one another and smiled. I would never have made it through recovery without him, nor he without me. I could give him friendship, loyalty, and a kindness he didn’t receive at home, but I couldn’t give him the type of love he desired. There was no mystery, no magic, no moving of mountains between us. I couldn’t imagine sex with him.
“You deserve the works, Zach Adams, not my kind of love. You’ll see. Some woman is going to knock you off your feet, and I won’t even be able to get you to say hello to me.”
The corner of his lip lifted in a lop-sided, mock grimace. He didn’t believe me.
“Zach, I’ve seen the way girls look at you. You just don’t notice.”
“Not with you around, I don’t. Not with those smoky gray eyes of yours.”
I shook my head, wishing I could give him what he desired. “You’re hopeless. C’mon, let’s go.”
As we walked along Boylston Street to Winthrop Gallery, I noticed our images reflected in the glass windows of the storefronts. Zach’s outline was tall and muscular, his strong facial features definitely a plus. Any girl would be lucky to have him. Next to him, I seemed short and slim, though no one would call me fragile. My dark, straight hair, I noticed, swung back and forth in rhythm to our brisk stride.
“So tell me about Derek Roberts. How do you know him?”
“We went to prep school together. He wasn’t one of the jocks but used to spend his time taking photographs of various sports. In college, he won a Pulitzer for a shot he took of the Bruins’ goalie catching the puck in overtime play, taking the win away from Montreal.”
“It’s supposed to be a great show.” I’d read about it in the Globe. “I’m pleased for the gallery. I know the owner. He’s been struggling to attract a younger crowd, and this may be one way to do it.”
“Is he still helping you with your art project?”
“We’re putting together an art show of paintings done by women in recovery. It should help fund the new, proposed shelter in Southie.”
Zach pulled me to a stop. “See why everybody loves you, Sam?”
My thoughts flew to George Hartwell, my elderly father. “Not everyone.”
“Well, most people do.” Zach took hold of my shoulders and gave me a long look. “I know all about your father, but, Sam, you can’t let one person destroy how everyone else feels about you.”
He was right. My relationship with my father was an old story. Most likely it was why I worked hard to excel at everything I did and might even have been the reason I’d turned to alcohol at an early age. No matter what I accomplished, I’d never be what my father really wanted. Thank God my mother, Adrienne, was as sweet and as strong as they come. She’d counter-balanced my father’s unreasonable attitude as best she could, but she couldn’t prevent the damage done to me.
Determined to have some fun, I looped my arm through his and skipped along the sidewalk with exaggerated steps.
Zach grinned and hurried to keep up with me.
###
The Winthrop Gallery was deceptively large, extending deep into the storefront from the street. Inside, I took a moment to get my bearings. The high-ceilinged rooms were discreetly lit and the walls, of varying shades of neutral colors, were the perfect backdrops for the colorful photographs mounted on them.
The gallery owner waved his hand in recognition and broke away from a group of people to greet us.
“Samantha! Glad you could make it.”
I smiled and accepted his hand. “Me, too.”
As I was introducing Zach, someone called out, “Hey, Zach!”
Zach grinned. “Hi, Derek.”
I turned to find a tall, dark-haired man striding toward us. He smiled at Zach then turned his gaze on me. Our eyes met and shivers traveled down my spine. Derek Roberts was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen. The contrast of dark hair with light-brown, almost gold eyes was intriguing. They lit with pleasure as his crooked smile settled on me before turning back to Zach.
“Zach! I swear you look just the same, you old jock.” Derek winked at me. “Bet you didn’t know that St. John’s Prep has a football trophy named after him.” He grinned and gave Zach a bear hug.
I blinked in surprise. Football trophy?
Zach shook his head. “If you stop telling stories about me, I’ll introduce you to Samantha Hartwell.”
Derek’s eyes widened. “The same Samantha Hartwell who sits on the board of Rivers Papers?”
“Yes, but…”
He cut me off, taking hold of my hand. “Great to meet you! Rivers Papers is talking to me about shooting a series of photos on the paper mill industry. And I understand you’re someone I need to talk to about it.”
His smile settled on me, and it all came back. In order to promote goodwill and a better understanding of the industry, Rivers Papers was considering publishing a book on the history of Maine and its paper mills. The Hartwells were one of the founding families of the industry, going back to my great-grandfather. My cousin, Marissa Cole, and I hadn’t been won over on the proposal, but we were trying to be open-minded about it. One of the board members was exploring the idea.
“I thought you limited your photography to sports,” Zach said to Derek. “You’re doing industrial work, too?”
Derek grinned. “If the money is right, I’m flexible. Besides, I haven’t changed. I still like to go where the action is. Travel is like an aphrodisiac for me.”
“No family yet?”
Derek shook his head. “C’mon. Let me give you a personal tour.”
Zach and I followed him to a room in the back of the building where a number of black and white photographs were displayed against a black backdrop.
Derek turned to me. “As a kid, I suffered from asthma. It really bothered me to be stuck on the sidelines while most of my friends played sports. One of my fifth-grade teachers suggested I take pictures of them and handed me a little camera. I was hooked from then on. Big time.”
A group gathered around us.
“What kind of camera was it?” a woman asked.
“An Instamatic.” Derek good-naturedly spoke louder so everyone could hear.
While he continued to answer questions, I stepped away from the crowd and wandered over to the display on the far wall.
In one black and white photograph, a toddler had swung a leg onto a bottom step and was glancing up a long stairway as if it were a mountain to climb. The picture captured both the eager look of anticipation on the child’s face and the sense of determination in the set of his little jaw.
Impressed, I moved on to the next photograph. In it, a man had just kicked a soccer ball. His arms were out, balancing his body. One foot was high in the air, the other remained connected to the ground by just the tip of his shoe. The ball was a blur. As masculine as the scene was, the way Derek had captured the action made it appear as if it was a movement in a lovely ballet.
Moving from one photograph to another, I found myself attracted to the man behind the pictures. Behind a handsome exterior, there lurked a man who appreciated the beauty around him.
“Cool, huh?” Zach’s eyes lit with approval.
“Touching. He’s captured the freedom, the joy, the beauty of being a participant in life.”
“That’s exactly it. Well put.” He left to greet a friend while I continued my private inspection, drawn to the spirit of the photographs.
“What do you think? Am I good enough for Rivers Papers?”
My pulse sprinted. I turned and smiled at Derek. “Maybe.”
His lips curved as he settled his golden gaze on me. “If it means I could get to know you, I’d sign on tomorrow.”
My smile faltered. Did he think I’d fall for a line like that?
Before I could respond, Zach approached us. “Guess who’s here? Ted Beers.”
My hands turned cold. Ted remained the Chairman of the Rivers Papers board. Efforts to throw him off the board had failed by one traitorous vote. He was carefully monitored, but he remained a thorn in my side.
Someone called to Derek. He bid us good-bye and left the room, and I planned my escape.
“Well, well, Samantha Hartwell.” Ted’s bass voice echoed across the room, drawing attention as he approached me.
I stood there, trapped. My blood bubbled at the insolent tone of his voice.
Zach, bless his heart, moved closer to me.
Ted held out his hand. I took it and pasted a smile on my face, which I hoped would temper the deep animosity I felt. “Good evening, Ted. You remember Zach Adams?”
A frown creased Ted’s face. “Yes. We’ve met before. Everybody in Boston knows who he is. He refused a lucrative position in one of the top New York law firms to go into family law here. It made all kinds of news in certain social circles.”
Ignoring the angry scowl that crossed Zach’s face, he turned to me with a sly smile. “Checking out Derek’s work for us?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t make the connection between him and Rivers Papers until Zach introduced me to his friend.”
Ted’s eyebrows shot up. He faced Zach. “You know Derek?”
“He and I went to prep school together,” Zach answered shortly, and I knew he was still upset over Ted’s earlier remark. Ted wasn’t the only one who thought Zach was a fool for giving up a lucrative career and status. His parents had all but disowned him over the decision. In a competitive family like his, it was unacceptable to disregard his rightful place among the socially elite.
I gave Zach an overly bright smile. “Time we were on our way.” His temper was sometimes hard to control, and Ted’s mere presence was enough to make anyone edgy.
Outside, we both drew a deep breath and sighed.
“What is it about that guy that makes me want to smash in his mouth?” Zach grumbled.
“I know exactly how you feel. It’s good we both left the gallery before we ruined things for Derek.”
“Yeah. By the way, I told Derek we’d meet him for a late supper after the show.”
“Sorry. I’m going home. It’s been a rough week and I just want to curl up with a book. I’m meeting my parents for dinner tomorrow. You know how difficult that can be.”
“Your father’s a moron.”
Zach and my father had never gotten along. Observing Zach’s hair curling over the collar of his shirt, and his worn Docksiders, I almost laughed out loud. Zach’s casual appearance would irritate the hell out of my father.
Zach accompanied me back to the office to get my car. I was glad he did. Since the terrifying incident with Caitlin’s boyfriend, I was jumpy about being on the streets after dark. I didn’t want anyone to know that every time I saw a dark-haired man in a black-leather jacket, my heart pounded in panic.
At home inside my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about Derek. His good looks had been a pleasant surprise, his pictures even better. But I wondered at his self-assurance. No doubt, he was accustomed to having women throw themselves at him. Still, his talent was evident, which was a good reason to talk to my cousin about the book project.
The jarring sound of the phone brought my musing to a standstill. “Hello?”
“Sham? It’sh me. Caitlin. I blew it tonight. I’m drunk as a schkunk …”
My heart sank. “Where are you?”
“With Anthony. My shponsor is meeting me. Just wanted to let you know I can’t meet with you tomorrow. Good-bye.”
“Wait!” But she’d already hung up. I let out a worried sigh. Caitlin liked living dangerously. I didn’t know where it would lead either of us.
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