Jennifer came home after a long day at work. She parked in the public lot near her building, grabbed her things, and walked home. It was a pleasant stroll. The downtown area was going through a rebuilding process. While the Ascot remained the main hangout in downtown, more restaurants and shops were opening up.
There were also some gentrification projects. Jennifer’s building was old and affordable, but the new apartments were luxurious, and the buildings gleamed. Jennifer lived across the street from one such building and dreamed of moving there every time she walked past it:
The Luxor.
But today was different. Instead of looking at the building, Jennifer was witnessing something happening in front.
She couldn’t believe her eyes at first, but there it was, right in front of her, Foster Prentice fighting in front of the building with a platinum blonde. Jennifer stopped dead in her tracks. She had to be imagining this. But then she looked at the blonde. It was Hope. Vaughn’s Hope. Ian’s Hope.
What the hell was Foster Prentice arguing with Hope in front of the building in Jennifer’s neighborhood? Unbelievable. How could these two people know each other well enough to have such a dreadful fight on a public sidewalk? Jennifer’s sidewalk.
She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was a heated discussion.
Jennifer had no idea how to approach them. But she crossed the street toward them, anyway. Hope pulled out a can of pepper spray.
Foster gave Hope one final cursing out and stormed toward Jennifer. He spoke to Hope over his shoulder, and Jennifer could hear it this time. “You fucking stupid bitch, you haven’t heard the last of me! I know where you live now!”
As Foster almost knocked her down in his angry huff, Jennifer grabbed his arm. “Foster, what are you doing here?”
Foster turned to face Jennifer and recognized her immediately. Apparently, she had been on his mind.
“And you!” he exclaimed. “I know you and that bitch wife of mine had something to do with this. It’s not enough she made me leave the house, my family’s house, she has to send her nosy secretary around to follow me and report my actions back to her!”
Foster stormed off. Jennifer stood on the sidewalk, stunned. She looked at Hope, standing half a block away. Jennifer had to do something, so she called out Hope’s name.
Hope, visibly shaken, looked at Jennifer curiously, maybe hatefully, and maybe distrustfully. Jennifer didn’t bother to sort it out. She closed the distance between them. Hope didn’t try to run away.
Jennifer stopped in front of Hope and said, “Hope, is that you?”
“Who wants to know?” Hope crossed her arms and stood facing Jennifer defiantly.
Jennifer said, “I’m sorry to bother you. I wanted to know if you were okay.”
“How do you know my name?”
“It’s a long story. But I think you have been through a hard time, and I don’t know what is going on here, but if you need someone to talk to about Foster…”
“Just what the hell do you know about Foster and me? Are you spying on me like Erica Parsons? Is she one of your friends?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“And do you know Jeremy Witt, too?”
“No, I don’t know anything about him.”
Hope was getting hot under the collar. “Just who the fuck are you? Why are you here?”
Jennifer had to think fast. A big part of her was dying to talk to the mythical Hope, to get the whole story, but she didn’t want to piss her off.
“I’m here because I live across the street from this building. That’s all. I guess we’re neighbors.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain how you know everything about my life, including my name.”
“I have a confession to make,” Jennifer said, “but don’t hate me for it.”
“No promises.”
“I work for Dr. Aubrey Prentice. I’m her secretary.”
“That explains way too much. And just when I thought I got that husband-stealing bitch out of my life, I come to find out I live across the street from her goddamn secretary. What are the fucking odds? Did you tell Foster where I live? I’ll kill you if you did!”
“No,” Jennifer replied, “this is the first time I’ve seen him. Aubrey is divorcing him. She found out he’s a pervert.”
Hope had calmed down. “She’s right about that. I gave him a lap dance at the Platinum Club, and he’s been stalking me ever since….so you had nothing to do with what was going on here just now?”
“No. I was as surprised as you. I knew Foster had gone off the rails, but not like this.”
“Well, he has,” Hope said. “I need a drink. Do you want to come up? I think it would benefit both of us to share some information since we’re neighbors. Isn’t that what neighbors do? Gossip?”
“Yes, they do,” said Jennifer.
Hope opened the door, and they entered the building’s lobby.
“Nice,” Jennifer said.
“My boyfriend Jeremy insisted I live here. It is nice, isn’t it? But you say you don’t know Jeremy?”
“No,” Jennifer said.
“Let’s go up to my apartment.” Hope pushed the elevator button while Jennifer admired the impressive lobby.
In the hallway on the tenth floor, Hope opened the door to a well-appointed suite. Jennifer, impressed, offered a compliment. “This is an awesome apartment. And you have a balcony.”
“Feel free to go out on it if you like.”
Hope went to a small refrigerator located in the wet bar and opened a bottle of Chardonnay.
Jennifer came in from the balcony. Hope offered Jennifer a glass of wine and sat on the sofa.
Jennifer sat in a plush armchair next to it.
“You have such a great view out there,” Jennifer said.
“I do like it,” said Hope. “And now that we’re settled, I have a few questions for you.”
“Okay.”
“So you work for Dr. Aubrey Prentice as her secretary?”
“Yes.”
“So how much do you know about my soon-to-be ex-husband Ian?” Hope took a sip of her wine.
“Everything, I suppose. I read his file, maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did,” Jennifer admitted.
“And what did the great Ian Henshaw have to say about me?”
“A lot, but he probably said everything that’s in the file to your face.”
“Probably.”
“But, to be honest, he came off as a real jerk. And Dr. Prentice was on your side. She thought he was being mentally cruel to you. She wanted him to work things out with you, but he went against her advice and divorced you anyway. He said you were cheating on him with Vaughn, the bartender from the Ascot.”
“That last part doesn’t sound like something that would be in a therapy file.”
“Oh God,” said Jennifer. “I saw you at the bar with Vaughn one night. You cried and ran out. I didn’t know who you were at the time. I wouldn’t have asked Vaughn out if I knew who you were. I’m so sorry.”
“So now you're dating my Vaughn?”
“I swear, it’s just a coincidence. This is all just one big misunderstanding,” Jennifer said.
“And you seem to be in the center of it all, Jennifer.”
“I guess I am. If you want me to go, I will.”
“No. I want you to stay. It’s all really funny now that I know everything,” Hope smiled. “Because, as you can see,” Hope waved her hand around the room, “I got everything I wanted.”
“Since you put it that way, sure,” Jennifer said.
“And I owe it all to this little social circle game that your group has going on. Now that I know about Foster, Vaughn, and Ian, I have closure. Isn’t that what you call it?”
“Yes, I guess so. And because of this whole big mess, you got someone you like?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, like I said before, his name is Jeremy. He’s from England, and he has this crazy ex-girlfriend of his stalking us. I thought you might be one of her friends.”
“No,” Jennifer lied. “But I do have a question for you. How do you know Dr. Prentice’s husband, Foster?”
“That’s a funny story. He came into the Platinum Club, where I dance, and asked for a private session. I said yes, and then things got weird. He called me his darling angel and touched me in all kinds of ways. He had to pay extra for that. He’s been stalking me ever since. So, as you can tell, between him and Erica, I’m getting a little paranoid.”
“Wow,” Jennifer said, “Foster’s secretary quit because he was making passes at her, too.”
“Is she blonde?”
“I think so. I’ve never met her.”
“I think Dr. Prentice's husband has a thing for blondes, something to do with his first wife. The one who drowned.” Hope said.
“Really? Dr. Prentice never mentioned Foster had another wife.”
“Of course she wouldn’t. You should see her at the Orchard Park Country Club. She’s very full of herself, that boss of yours. No offense.”
“None taken.” Jennifer finished her wine. “I’ve got to be going. I have some reading to do. It was so nice to meet you, Hope. Here’s my number in case you need something.” Jennifer scribbled her number on a piece of scrap paper she pulled from her purse and handed it to Hope.
“I’ll call you,” Hope said. “Maybe you can show me around the neighborhood. It’s not like we don’t have a lot to talk about. But I do want to ask you one more thing. Are you seeing Vaughn?”
“Yes, is that a problem?”
“No, I just wanted to warn you, he’s a player.”
“I was counting on that.” Jennifer smiled.
“Hope smiled back, raised her glass, and Jennifer was gone.
Jennifer went home to her apartment, poured herself another glass of wine, and sat on the couch, thinking about what had just happened. Had she made a new friend?
Hope Henshaw wasn’t at all what Jennifer had imagined. Not the villain from Ian’s file. Not the sobbing blonde from the Ascot Bar & Grill.
She was sharp, guarded, funny in a dry, self-aware way. And she’d learned how to survive men like Foster and Ian and Vaughn by staying three steps ahead.
Jennifer took a sip of her wine.
If Hope was right, Foster hadn’t just unraveled, he’d been unraveling for a long time.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table.
She startled, then frowned. Unknown number.
Jennifer let it buzz twice more before picking it up. “Hello?”
“Jennifer,” a familiar voice said. “It’s Ian.”
Jennifer felt a shock to her system. “Ian? How did you get this number?”
“I have people to do these things for me.”
Of course he did.
“I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“It’s not,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“I suppose that depends on how you define okay.”
Jennifer was not in the mood.
“What’s going on, Ian?”
“I wanted to ask you something. Just between you and me.”
“Okay.”
“Is Aubrey safe?” Ian asked.
“Why do you ask?”
Ian paused for a moment. “I have Foster on my radar. I’m spending some personal time with Aubrey, and I don’t want him in the picture. He’s stalking and frightening my ex-wife. I want to make sure there’s no trouble with Aubrey.”
Jennifer thought of Foster’s face on the sidewalk. The venom in his voice. The way Hope had reached for pepper spray.
“She’s divorcing him,” Jennifer said carefully. “And she’s stronger than you think. But I’ll tell her to be cautious.”
“Thank you,” Ian said. A pause. “You sound tired.”
“It’s been a strange night.”
“That’s fair,” Ian replied. “Goodnight, Jennifer.”
“Goodnight, Ian.”
Jennifer set the phone down and took another sip of her wine.
A new friend. A dangerous man unraveling. Another reaching out for connection. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Jennifer, no longer just a secretary, no longer invisible, was becoming a common denominator in other people’s stories.
She finished her wine and stood, moving to the window.
In an apartment across the street, Hope was looking at things very differently.