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Oh god, he’s only making it worse. What a bumbling fool. But it’s too late because Howie has a frown on his face.
“Look, we’re friends here,” says my man. “And I respect you, and your new career path, but listen. If you make even one more comment about the way Lacy looks, if you even look at her with the slightest hint of interest, I’ll-”
I can’t stand it anymore. I leap up and run down the hallway and to the staircase. I run up the stair case and to the luxury rooftop patio. I look out over the city as I press myself into the rail. God I’ve never been so high up before. I’ve never seen such an incredible view. All of this, at my fingertips. And I’ve almost ruined it by letting Howie be tricked! I should have told him the moment Charlie got here that we used to date.
I’m in too deep! I’m in way too deep!
I let out a frustrated scream that nobody below can hear. There’s only one person in this world who really cares and understands, and that’s Aunt Margaret. I run back down the staircases, to the elevator and down to the curb. I catch a taxi all the way to the Lower East Side. I need my Aunt right now … because this situation just became toxic.
CHAPTER 14
HOWIE
Lacy bolts out of the living room and I’m left standing with the painter. Did he do what I think he just did? Did he make a pass at her?
“I won’t do it again Howie. I’m sorry, it’s just that, she’s so beautiful.”
I scowl at the man. What the hell is going on? There’s some weird vibes in the room, and I need to understand what’s happening. Besides, what right does he have to come in here and talk about Lacy’s beauty? That’s just not right. I understand he’s a painter and all, and he has to be engaged by the subject of his art, but goddamn. Something about Charlie Baker’s comments disturb me to my core.
And what the hell is going on with my girl? She ran out of the room like there was a bee in her bonnet. Lacy’s not like that usually. My female can get hot and bothered, but it’s generally in the bedroom, and not because of some comments from a seedy artist.
So I turn towards Charlie with a suspicious look.
“What the hell is your problem?” I grunt. Memories of when he was just a cadet run through my mind. I remember helping him tie his bootstraps in basic training. I remember him going from a little twerp from New Jersey to a full grown man with ripped muscles and an attitude.
The muscles were still there, but the attitude’s gone.
“You know what happened to me Howie,” he whispers with tears in his eyes. “You know more than anyone else in the world.”
That’s when we say it at the same time.
“Car Bomb. Afghanistan. 2007.”
He lifts up his smock and shows me the deep wound on his right forearm. I lift up my pant leg and show him the place where the metal almost sliced my leg off.
“She’s the only thing I ever cared about Howie,” says Charlie.
I’m dumbstruck. What are we talking about?
“I’m sorry, who?”
Charlie shakes his head.
“She’s the only thing that ever got me through the pain.” He looks like he’s going to cry.
I shoot him a confused look.
“Do you mean Lacy? You’ve only known each other for one day, so you’re over your head man. You didn’t know her back then. Goddamn Charlie, the war really fucked you up, didn’t it?” I pat him on the back. “Look, take a deep breath and calm down. Stay here while I go and get Lacy. We’ll work this out.”
But Lacy’s nowhere to be found. I check the Jungle Room, the rooftop, and even my study. But there’s no trace of the beautiful girl. Where the hell is my princess?
Charlie looks at me from the white leather couch when I re-enter the studio.
“I’m sorry,” I say formally. “I have no idea where she is right now. We’ll have to cancel today’s portrait session and continue some other time.”
Charlie’s silent for a moment before speaking.
“She’s probably at her Aunt Margaret’s,” he says.
