Mystery Man (The Dream Man Series Book 1)

Fang idled at the curb while I did my walk of shame up to my house. It really wasn’t a walk of shame but no one seeing me in the daylight hours in a little black dress and fabulous shoes would know that.

Fang, I found to my fortune, was not a master communicator. This was good and bad because this meant I could slide into my head and stay there the whole way from Hawk’s lair. This was good because I needed to be in my head to sort my shit out and this was bad because I didn’t want to be in my head and because I couldn’t figure out how to sort my shit.

I opened the door and saw Meredith, Camille, Tracy and Mrs. Mayhew all sitting on my furniture and drinking coffee at the left side of my living room. The furniture had been uncovered, the floors had been swept, the mist of dust on all surfaces had disappeared. The renovation equipment had vanished. The right side of the living room was just as tidy but it was empty. A peek through the glass doors to my once empty den showing it was now storage for tools, tubes, cans and equipment. The walls still needed to be re-skimmed, the floors refinished, the fireplace mantels stripped and redone and the light fixtures replaced but at least it looked like a living room

Jeez. It was ten o’clock. Meredith had been busy.

I stared at them and I loved them. I loved them all. And I loved that Meredith made my living room look like a living room.

But I wanted cookie dough. Aloneness and cookie dough.

No, I needed aloneness and cookie dough.

Like, a lot.

“Hey,” I called.

“Have a good night?” Meredith beamed.

“Um…” I mumbled.

“That’s a pretty dress,” Mrs. Mayhew complimented.

“Thanks, Mrs. M,” I replied walking in thinking she was being so Mrs. M, saying I was wearing a pretty dress when I’d walked into my house in the clothes I’d worn the night before which everyone knew screamed slut!

“Heard you got a hot one on your hook,” she remarked, smiling at me huge.

Well, I thought so but I was worried I was on his hook.

“Um…” I mumbled again.

“You okay?” Cam asked, looking at me closely.

“Um…” I mumbled yet again.

All female eyes focused intently on me as it appeared I was incapable of speech.

Then Cam moved.

“Right,” she said smartly, jumping up from the couch. “Shower, yoga pants, let’s go!” she ordered and clapped her hands, coming to me, bustling me to the stairs and up them, right to my bathroom.

I turned at the bathroom door and looked at her. Cam was my height, all legs and booty, minor cleavage that wasn’t much to write home about but it didn’t matter because she was flat out, heart stopping gorgeous. Big almond eyes, full lips, fabulous cheekbones, elegant jaw, perfectly arched brows. She was the exotic, African American yin to Tracy’s girl next door yang. This used to give me a complex, seeing as my two best friends were akin to catwalk models let loose on society but I learned to control my feelings of inferiority through copious imbibing of cosmos and shopping for fantastic clothes I could don that would build my confidence whenever I went out with them.

“Cam,” I said.

“You’re freaked,” she replied reading me, as usual, like a book.

Not, of course, that I was being mysterious.

“Something happened,” I told her. “Well, a lot of somethings happened but –”

“Shower, babe, I’ll make a fresh pot and meet you in your office with Tracy. You got fifteen minutes.” Then she turned and walked to the stairs.

There were a lot of things about Cam I loved but being me, and allowing my life to careen out-of-control occasionally, one of the best of them was her ability to control a situation and be decisive.

I did as I was told and in yoga pants, camisole and zip up hoodie with wet hair, I met Cam and Tracy in my office.

Tracy handed me a mug of joe.

I took it and my eyes slid to Cam. “How’d you ditch Meredith and Mrs. M?”

This I knew was a feat. Meredith was the only Mom I knew and she worried about me even though I was thirty-three and even when there wasn’t anything to worry about. Mrs. M was Grandma to me and every kid on the block, be they thirty-three, three, or sixty-three. If you were younger than her, she was your Grandma and nearly everyone I knew was younger than her except her friend Erma who evidence was suggesting was dating Father Time.

“I didn’t have to,” Cam answered. “Mrs. M is going with Meredith to her house to meet the insurance guy. But I did have to promise a full briefing.”

“You aren’t giving a full briefing,” I declared, sitting in my office chair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Of course not,” she muttered.

“What’s with the face?” Tracy asked and I looked at her.

“What face?”

“Your face,” she replied. “You look… I don’t know how you look. I thought the date went great. Last night I got twelve texts about how great the date went. Now you don’t look like the date went great.”

My eyes slid to the window. “It did.”

“So?” Cam prompted and my eyes slid to her.

“Thursday called,” I answered, Cam’s eyes closed slowly but Tracy’s expression shifted to confused.

I stared at Cam. Cam knew something.

“Thursday called?” Tracy asked.

I ignored her.

“Cam?” I called, her eyes opened and a light shone in them, a sad light, an unhappy light. “Cam,” I whispered.

“You told me you two were over,” she said softly.

This was true.

“Thursday called?” Tracy repeated, sounding impatient and I looked at her.

“Great date, the best, better than my wildest dreams. He was into me, he was interested in everything I said, he was funny, he bought me Jimmy Choos,” I told her and her eyes lit up.

“I know, his lady, Elvira, who’s hilarious by the way, she swore me to secrecy but I thought that was so cool! Totally generous. I offered my discount but she said no. Just handed over a company credit card. Awesome!” Tracy ended on a cry and a bounce on the couch.

“Yeah, awesome, until Thursday called,” I replied and Tracy looked confused again.

“What’s up with Thursday?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered then looked at Cam. “But you do, don’t you?”

Camille’s eyes held mine. Then she sighed.

Then she spoke. “Cabe ‘Hawk’ Delgado is on the grid,” she stated. “In fact, he’s so on the grid, he’s all over the grid. There’s some mystery and a lot of speculation about his activities but he’s Mr. Grid. If it’s happening in Denver, he knows about it and speculation says that sometimes he’s in on it though no one knows how. Also, no one knows exactly what he does, or all that he does, they just know he’s a busy guy.”

I already guessed this and, at that point, I didn’t care about this.

So I prompted, “And?”

She pulled in breath, that breath that said she was preparing me for something not so fun.

Then she started to give me the not so fun. “One thing that doesn’t have any mystery when it comes to Delgado is His Days.”

“His Days?” Tracy repeated.

Cam nodded at her. “Otherwise known as His Women.”

“Shit,” Tracy muttered, her eyes cutting to me but my eyes stayed glued to Cam as I struggled to breathe.

Then I choked out, “Talk to me.”

Cam pressed her lips together then she said, “Girl, I’m so sorry.”

I felt a tingly sensation in my throat and it wasn’t the same happy one as last night.

“Talk to me, Cam,” I whispered.

Another breath then Cam stated, “Okay, Delgado is known to claim women. He does this and slots them into a schedule. They come and go but while they’re there, they’re claimed. He investigates them and it’s made clear no one goes near them. When he’s done with them, he’s done, one moves out, he moves another one in.”

“This can’t be,” I told her. “I don’t have a day.”

Cam swallowed. Not a good sign.

“What?” I asked.

“Girl –” she started.

I leaned forward and repeated. “What?”

“You’re known as Filler.”

Oh my God.

“I’m known as Filler?” I whispered.

She nodded. “He’s feeling like a switch up, or one of his women is out of town or he’s got a slot open he hasn’t filled yet, he comes to you.”

“I’m known as Filler,” I repeated.

“Honey –” Tracy whispered.

“Who knows me as Filler?” I asked Cam

“Um…” she hesitated then said, “everyone now.”

“Everyone now,” I repeated.

She nodded.

“Lawson?”

She bit her lip and nodded again.

Oh my God!

“Tack?” I asked.

“Probably,” Cam answered.

I looked to the floor. Then it hit me and I looked back at Cam.

“She knew,” I stated.

“What, babe?” Cam asked.

“Thursday, she knew. She knew what she was, who she was, her day. She knew his name she knew his number.”

“Well, um –” Cam started.

I cut her off. “I guess if you get a guaranteed slot you get his contact details. But Filler, now Filler is just filler.”

“Gwennie, sweetie,” Tracy whispered.

I shot out of my chair and shouted, “I don’t believe this!”

Camille and Tracy shot up too.

“Gwen, babe, listen to me. The talk now is he’s off routine. This shit with His Days, it is for them what it was for you, night visits, stringent boundaries. He doesn’t date them, he just sleeps with them.”

“So?” I yelled, crashing my mug to my desk, coffee sloshing over.

“So, this is good, you’ve broken through,” Tracy put in quickly and, as ever with my dear, sweet Trace, hopefully.

“No, Trace, this isn’t good,” I returned. “This is humiliating.”

And it was. It was humiliating. Deep down to the core humiliating. And the worst part of that feeling was that I did it to my damned self.

Again!

I lifted my hands, slid my fingers in my hair and held on. “I can’t believe this. I don’t know what to do with this,” I told the floor.

“Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Cam, of all people, advised and my head lifted so my eyes could narrow on her.

“Are you high?” I yelled and her face flinched. “I’m filler, everyone on the grid knows it. God!” I pulled my hands through my hair and threw them out to my sides repeating, “God!”

“Babe,” Cam said softly, “calm down.”

I lifted my hands again to press my palms to my forehead and through my arms I looked at her. “I want him,” I whispered my secret.

“Then talk to him,” Cam whispered back.

“I wanted him to be special,” I kept whispering.

“Girl,” she kept whispering too and got closer, wrapping her fingers around my arm, “talk to him.”

“For him to be special, he has to make me feel special. Not like Scott made me feel.” I heard Tracy make a soft whimper, she knew how Scott made me feel, they both did. “And definitely not worse than Scott made me feel.”

Cam’s other hand came up and wrapped around my arm, pulling them down, she stepped in close, her hands sliding up to grip mine as Tracy moved into our little huddle.

“I did this to myself,” I whispered.

“Baby,” Cam whispered back as Tracy slid her arm around my waist and she whispered, “Honey.”

“I wanted to believe I could break through,” I went on.

“Maybe you have,” Cam replied.

“I think you have,” Tracy put in.

“I held on, hoping to break through,” I kept talking like they didn’t speak.

“Gwen, take a breath and clear your head,” Camille advised.

I dropped my head and looked at my toes. Dark berry polish, a winter color. I needed summer. I needed sun. It was time to take a vacation.

“I’ll always be filler,” I told my toes.

“Oh honey,” Tracy whispered.

Suddenly, I pulled away, lifted my head and announced, “I need to finish on my deadline.” I looked at Cam. “Can I stay with you and Leo tonight?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tracy stated.

“Yeah, babe, you can,” Cam replied.

“Cam!” Tracy snapped and Cam looked at her.

“She needs space,” Cam returned.

Tracy looked at me. “He’s coming to you tonight, isn’t he?”

“No,” I told her. “He wants me to go to him.”

Her eyes lit and she moved in close. “Then go.”

“No,” I replied.

She put her hands on my shoulders. “Gwennie, this is shit, I get it, this sucks but I can’t help but think that –”

I stepped back and her hands dropped. “I can. I can think it. And I’m not even mad at him, Trace. I’m not. This is me. I did this to me. I allowed this to happen. And if I’m ever going to have any self-respect after this fucking, fucking mess, I’m the one who has to stop it.”

“That’s a bad decision,” Tracy said firmly.

“Maybe so but it’s the one I’ve made,” I replied and straightened my shoulders. “Scott fucked me over and I loved him. That killed me. I even knew it was happening and I allowed it until I couldn’t put up with allowing it anymore. With Scott, I waited too long to look after myself, hoping he’d sort his shit out, and I waited too long with Hawk. Even if things have changed for him, I’ll always know what I allowed myself to be, what other people think of me. No wonder both Lawson and Tack thought they could make a play. They want to get in there and who can blame them? A sure thing who opens her bed and her legs, no questions asked, no expectations, just an opportunity to get off and go your own way until you’re done. Shit!”

“That isn’t who you are,” Cam declared.

“No? Seems like it to me,” I shot back.

“Then, girl, you’re wrong,” Cam retorted.

I shook my head. “I can’t think about this now. I have to work. I’ll come over as soon as I send my files,” I told Cam.

She studied me then she said quietly, “All right, girl. I’m off today. I’ll get ice cream.”

“Cookie dough,” I corrected.

“Cookie dough,” she whispered.

“Gwennie –” Trace started and my eyes moved to her.

“I love you, babe, you know I do but not now. I can’t take your hope now. Please.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I need to work,” I repeated.

“Right,” Cam replied.

I nodded my head once and twisted to turn on my computer. I snatched a Kleenex out of the box on my desk to mop up the coffee spill as I heard them move out of the room.

“Gwen?” Cam called and I turned back, coffee-wet Kleenex in my hand, she was in my door. “Scott was an ass and Delgado controls his life to within an inch of it. He got one dose of you in the light of day and he’s shifted his entire way of doing things. You are not who you think you are,” she told me.

No, she was wrong. I was exactly who I thought I was and the worst of it was, Cabe “Hawk” Delgado knew it.

“I have to work,” I told her.

“You’re not who you think you are,” she repeated.

I stared at her.

“Cookie dough,” she whispered then disappeared from my door.

* * * * *

“Ready, ready,” I said to the courier who was standing inside my door, waiting, visibly impatiently, for me to finish writing out the check from the amount I’d jotted down when I called Nordstrom’s to find out exactly how much a pair of fabulous, silver, watersnake, platform, peep toed slingbacks cost.

I signed the check, ripped it off and shoved it in the envelope with the note I’d dashed out while I still had the courage.

Hawk,

For the shoes. You need to find a replacement for my shifts.

Gwen

I licked the envelope, closed it and handed it to the courier.

“You don’t have a name of the company?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “No, I just know the building, fourteenth floor, turn right off the elevators, right again down the hall and second door down on the left. Tell whoever you hand it to to give it to Hawk.”

His brows shot up. “Hawk?”

“Hawk.”

He eyed me like he thought I had a screw loose.

Then he muttered, “Whatever,” and took his leave.

I shut the door behind him.

Then I walked upstairs and sent my work to my author with my notes. Then I packed a bag. Then I wrote a note for Dad and Meredith and left it in the kitchen. Then I got in my car which Meredith and I had gone to get from her house the day before.

Then I went to Cam and Leo’s.