Taylor nods. "You've met someone."

I sigh. "Kind of."

"Wow. This is new for you."

"Yeah, it is."

"Wow. Just wow."

"I know."

She smiles at me, showing white teeth. "What are you doing here with me then?"

"Old habits." I laugh. We have always been brutally honest with each other. Taylor is one of the best friends I've ever had.

"Go get her before she sees us together."

"She won't. She's safely tucked at home."

"You never know. Walls have eyes and ears."

"Goodbye, Taylor." I give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Meet up for some latte time to time?"

"You bet."

"Aaron will be so disappointed. He was looking forward to seeing you getting on with me in the flesh."

I laugh again. "That will never happen."

I run out of the club. This is something Beth doesn't have to know about. I've already screwed it up by telling her about Selena. I'm dying to get back to her, take her in my arms and make violent and pa.s.sionate love to her all night. Beth is where I belong.

Beth.

Thank G.o.d for my Lamborghini.

I race back to the penthouse as fast as I can, hooting a couple of slow-moving cabs out of the way. Bad manners, I know, but I don't care. I screech into my parking lot and almost forget to lock the car as I scramble to the elevator.

The ride up to my penthouse seems to take a decade. Finally, a ping sounds and the doors slide open. I tumble out.

I unlock my front door and fling it wide open.

"Beth?" I call.

No answer.

I forget. She might still be at Walgreen's (if one can spend two hours at a Walgreen's). I should give her a call on the cellphone, but I don't want to appear possessive. (Or obsessed. Yeah, never obsessed.) I should probably sit here and wait for her to come back.

I know. I'll surprise her.

Instead of going out, I'll prepare us dinner.

I'm not a great cook, but I busy myself with boiling some pasta in a saucepan and emptying a can of pesto sauce into a frying pan. Hey, give me some credit. I put a bottle of red wine out to chill in a cooler.

I'm smiling as I do this. I picture Beth coming home with Walgreen paper bags, and beaming when she sees what I've been up to.

Home. That's a good consideration. I wonder if Beth would consider moving in with me . . . just for a bit until she can get her own apartment. I just don't want her in that awful place. She's much, much safer with me.

I wonder if she'd let me pay for her new apartment.

I'm getting ahead of myself. There's so much I want to talk to Beth about. It's as though I'm a new man. I haven't been this excited about a relationship since Selena, and I refuse to let the ghosts of my past intrude this time. I've had therapy. I'm a much stronger person now. Maybe I can love again. Maybe I can't.

But at least it doesn't give me migraines to take the first step. Once I decide I'm going to try, I'm certain as h.e.l.l going to try.

Thing is what am I going to do with that tattoo?

The pasta is cooked. I taste it. Not bad. I lay the dishes on the table and set the plates.

And wait.

And wait.

It's been over an hour, and she still hasn't shown up.

Frowning, I dial her cellphone. It goes directly to voicemail.

s.h.i.t.

I hope nothing bad has happened to her.

Still redialing her number on my cellphone, I grab my jacket and head down to Walgreen's. The night air is chilly and brisk, and the shadows thrown by the street lamps are long on the sidewalks. The atmosphere seems to take on an ominous cast, as though there are shadows behind every shadow.

When I get to Walgreen's three blocks down, she isn't there, of course. I ask the lady at the cash register if someone fitting Beth's description has been down here.

"Not that I recall, sir," she says, giving me the once over.

I panic.

I run down the sidewalks, looking for her. If something happened to Beth . . . f.u.c.k f.u.c.k f.u.c.k . . . I'll never forgive myself. It's that curse again. My jinx. I bring down everyone I've ever loved the moment I decide I love them.

If something happened to her, it's because you went out to meet Taylor, the voice of my conscience intones.

No, no, no!

White hot jagged lightning streaks through my brain as I desperately dial her cellphone again. I expect futility, of course. Her broken body lies on a darkened alley in my mind's eye, blood seeping onto the stones.

No!

This time, it actually rings and it doesn't go straight to voicemail.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage as I listen to the ringtone. I don't know what I expect to hear at the other end. The voice of her kidnapper or rapist?

It's all my fault.

The other side gets picked up.

"h.e.l.lo?" I say, anxiety riddling my voice. "Beth?"

Pure silence.

Oh no.

There comes the hesitant sound of a half-sniffle, as though the person on the other end is trying hard not to cry, but being unable to choke back a sob.

"Chris?" Even the voice that filter through is ragged and broken.

"Where the h.e.l.l are you? I've been worried sick. Are you hurt?"

f.u.c.k!

"I'm OK. Chris, I have something to tell you."

Dread sinks my heart.

"I can't do this anymore, OK?"

"Do what?"

"What we're doing. There's just no future in it."

"No, that's where you're wrong. I've been meaning to tell you. I want to give us a chance, Beth. I want to "

"I saw you." Her voice is dead.

Oh s.h.i.t.

"What did you see?"

"I saw you with her. Your friend."

"I "

"It's OK. You didn't do anything wrong. You were always honest and level with me. I appreciate that. But it hit home that it isn't the kind of life I want for myself, and it's best we don't do this anymore. I can't be what you want you want me to be, and you can't be who I want you to be either. So just let's call it quits."

"No, no, Beth, that's where you're wrong. Nothing happened. Honest! I can prove it. I swear. I can call Taylor right now, and she'll tell you "

"Even if nothing happened," she sounds disbelieving, "I can't go through my life this way. Yes, nothing happened tonight. But I'll always be wondering if something will happen some other night, because you can't change who you are, Chris. And I'm not saying it's wrong. It's just that we want different things, and we deserve better."

"No, that's exactly what I've been meaning to talk to you about. Beth "

"You'll have my resignation in the morning through a delivery service. I'm giving you a twenty-four hour notice right now, and since I'm not a confirmed employee, I can do that. I checked with Sully."

"No, no! Beth !"

"I'm not at my apartment, so please don't come find me. Please, I'm begging you, let this rest. Goodbye, Chris. I can't talk to you anymore because I don't want you to convince me otherwise."

The phone clicks and the line goes dead.

f.u.c.k!

I've never been so sh.e.l.l-shocked in my entire life. It's like the floor has just been pulled from under me and I'm staring at a great gaping cavern in the sidewalk. People around me are giving me curious stares.

There's a huge aching hole in the pit of my stomach, and it's gnawing at me, rapidly eating me up. I feel hollow and awful, and I would throw up, had I eaten anything in the last eight hours.

She's not at her apartment.

And everything she said rings true.

I feel this way about her right now. But what's to say I'll feel the same way down the line? Can I give up a life of poly-amorous relationships, which I've been conditioned to crave, for one woman?

My fists are bunched so hard that I can feel the indent of my fingernails in my palms.

I'm going to find her.

And I think I know where she is.

BETH.

"So what would you do now?" Lyla says.

We are lying on her bed in her apartment, which is a lot nicer than mine. Well, at least, it has two bedrooms and a real kitchen, and outside, there are no frequent police sirens wailing down the street.

She's sprawled on her pillows while I'm on my belly. The weight of the world presses down upon me and I feel weary and old.

"I don't know. Find another job, I guess." I need to. I have a sister to support to TMU, and my Mom is going to need that knee replacement.

"Here in Chicago?"

"I guess. It's as good a start as any."