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Long Island, New York
Working as my own boss might be the best thing I had ever done for myself. Having three million people to get lost in, in case my stalker came looking for me, was great too. What was not great was inviting Malaysia to view my handiwork before a client’s appointment. She squinted distastefully over my shoulder. Silly me thought after I was done decorating, she’d grow to like it if not love it. She hadn’t.
“There is nothing wrong with baby blue, mint, and white leather, Malaysia,” I defended my décor, to the death if I had to. The strategically-hung flowerpots in front of the supersized windows in one wall made this place feel cozy yet opened. There would be no walls closing in on patients here.
Sucking air through her teeth, she primed up to voice her opinion for the hundredth time. “I love the arrangement, but I still say you should’ve went with the tan walls, olive green chairs, and cherrywood furniture in here too. I’m telling you there’s a relaxing effect to that color scheme, and those colors are in right now, Cherise.”
I cut my eyes sharply her way. “You just don’t quit, do you?”
She shrugged.
I mocked her movements. “You do know if someone is really angry, no color scheme, pattern, or even retail therapy truly relaxes them right. Only time does that for some, pills for others.” We’d had this argument a dozen times over the last month while picking out things for the four-room space. Then, we argued about it some more while promot
ing my business’s grand opening. I was the first to open in a newly-constructed, L-shaped commercial building in Long Island’s business district. The heart of the city was a hotbed of traffic. I was taking advantage of that along with surprisingly low rent for the area.
Malaysia threw her hands up in surrender. A huge gift bag she brought with her swayed from her fingers. “Okay. You’re the psychiatrist. It’s your office. Your first business. Congratulations. You’re a boss lady now, sister.”
“Thank you.” I really was a boss, accomplishing a dream I didn’t have a month ago. I couldn’t help strutting in a circle to face her, who was cheesing like a cat.
Handing me the gift bag, she hugged me tight. “I’m so proud of you. If your parents were here, they’d be proud too.”
My parents couldn’t come because of health issues with them both. When they felt better, I’d fly them up. Until then, I needed to relax before meeting my first client, Tobin Graham. He had more than anger issues if he let loose on his superiors. That was somewhat suicidal. Understandable to me after the death of a loved one. Not so much to the FBI. Until he resolved his anger, he wasn’t getting anywhere near a badge. Worse, the adrenaline was pumping just a little too fast through my veins to be an effective listener.
Malaysia backstepped to point at the bag in my hands. It didn’t take more encouragement to rob the bag of its contents. I lifted up an expensive Louis Vuitton attaché case inside with a matching pen set. She shouldn’t have with her own start-up business to grow. However, I would not insult her by telling her to take the gift back and buy me something cheaper. If she wanted me to have a cheap gift, she’d have brought one.
“This is beautiful, Malaysia. Thank you. I will carry it with me, with you always in mind.”
Rolling her neck with attitude and a grin, she popped back, “You better. That bag could’ve been rolls of fabric and a Vera Wang dress for my first fashion show. But since I knew you’d be grateful, actually get some use out of it while looking professional, and because I love you, I wanted you to have it. I want pictures of it and us in our outfits to mark the occasion on one of the side walls in the waiting area too.”
As usual, she’d produced our dresses, simple but timeless and opposite in dimensions. I was determined to borrow hers. It was knee-length, black with a split V neckline and shiny scalloped sleeves.
“Demanding, aren’t you?” I graciously kissed her on the jaw. “And I love you too.”
She ignored my affection and checked her watch rudely. “It’s time for me to get going. You have about five minutes before your first client shows up. I know you need space and quiet time to get your head together then.”
The waist-long ponytail at the back of her head swung with her as she swerved for the door. I walked her out of the office into the small foyer connected to the waiting area. Plump, sweet twenty-one-year-old Athena Clark sat at the reception area. I thieved the pale and quiet Gothic chick in black everything from Malaysia as part-time help. Continuing to work for Malaysia at the fashion house was funding Athena’s college tuition.
Business wasn’t booming for either of us. California was one of the few states where seeing a therapist was a requirement for making new friends. Fortunately, I had enough savings to see me through for the next five years until my practice picked up.
Athena waved as we passed by her black lacquer desk. It faced the glass door with Johnston Psychiatric Services stenciled in white on it. At the same time, the front door opened to a giant, blond man. His casual Polo shirt and black slacks framed a mouthwatering physique. I hadn’t been burdened with the stirrings of lust in months. Too bad they were ignited by Tobin Graham, my first client. Who else could it be?
Excited that I was about to officially be in business, I was glad to greet him myself. He was first of, hopefully, many clients, and he looked oddly familiar. I had no time to delve deeper into that. Muscles stacked upon muscles beneath blond hair swept back at the top, parted at the temple, and shaved low on the sides was entering my queendom. A five o’clock shadow couldn’t hide that chiseled jawline. Full lips and perfect Greek nose were tempting my fingertips to etch them.
Etch them? What the hell, Cherise? You’re not an artist or about to start crushing on clients. Just for a moment though, I identified with Eva’s instant attraction when she met… Let’s not even think that bastard’s name. He had made my life a living hell without breaking a law once, yet. I got out before he did.
Intending to be all business despite what my fingers wanted, I stepped past Malaysia to reach Mr. Graham first. She snagged my hand, pulling on it. “Stop, Cherise.”
I looked back at her as if she’d lost her mental faculties completely. “What? He’s my client.”
She shook her head. “Look at him, Cherise.”
The door closed behind Tobin Graham. He stopped at the entrance, mumbling, “Fuck.” His reaction was so off-putting I did as she said because they both were acting strangely.
Instantly, I knew why he was familiar. This close, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the young thug who stood by while an older killer intimidated Malaysia and I almost twenty years ago. That thug had grown into a fine, good God he was good looking in the light, man. And he had anger issues. And he was bigger. Much, much bigger. Had he faked an appointment so he could re-issue that promise of death? Had I just jumped from the frying pan into the fire when moving here?
It was my turn to mumble, “Fuck,” then freeze as if standing still would make me disappear. All the therapy I sought after meeting this man, well, Tobin… No, that would be Mr. Graham if he was an actual client. I couldn’t afford to turn him away even if all the therapy he caused me to seek went right out the window. I trembled in place, wondering why he was here. How did he know we were here?
Out of nowhere, Malaysia yelled, “Get the fuck out of here! We haven’t told anybody anything! Go away and stay away! If you don’t, we’ll call the cops and tell them everything!”
