Chapter 22 – Re-connections

Avery reapplied her lipstick and puckered her lips as she made her way to Mr. Crawford. Her Dior clutch was tucked between her left hand and waist before proceeding to the bar. She positioned herself at the other end of the lavish bar.

Topher had just received his martini, neat, from the bartender. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a generous tip for the staff. The tip was greatly appreciated. He gazed upon the vast sea of attendants and looked for possible afternoon delights. In mid gaze, he felt there was a pair of eyes staring at him. As he turned to his three-o’clock, there was in fact Avery. With a drink in hand, she grinned and made a cheering motion towards him.

He vaguely remembered her face from a magazine article of some sort. In any case, he was delighted to see such a beautiful woman and made a gesture to cheer her back. The two were not strangers. In his early years as a socialite, they had met briefly for a night or two of spontaneity. While his memory was quite unclear on the incident, her memory remained intact. She could never forget a face, or a night, like that. Something about his features had imprinted itself in her mind. It was almost instinctual. The two gravitated toward one another and a vacant cocktail table.  

Though her name was on the tip of his tongue there was no time to recollect the information. “So, it’s been a while. What are you up to these days?” The smooth play was rewarded with   another sip.

“Yes, it certainly has been Topher. I have started up my own design firm here in the city.” She smiled back. “We work in interiors, home furnishings, and staging. It’s been a booming business in this economy.” 

The wind had picked up on the terrace.  As her hair flicked in its aftermath, he was caught off guard by this opportunity to admire her presence. He could see that she was doing well for herself. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but stare. Topher was one to keep his distance when it came to powerful women. He had been wronged in the past and didn’t want trouble again. Little did he know that she was trouble wrapped with a bow, just waiting to be unwrapped.

This was an opening for him to regain her name. “Well how coincidental, I actually just bought a flat uptown that is in need of some redecorating. Do you have a business card?” 

They were playing into each other’s hand. She thought she would have to draw it out a bit longer. “Redecorating? I have some contacts that might suit your taste. Though decorating and furnishing are two different things. An interior decorator furnishes the space with decorative elements and an interior designer seeks to create a functional space within a building.”

Flustered, he tried to make a witty response. “Oh of course, I didn’t not mean to degrade your business in any fashion. I was in the market for an interior designer.” He was never one to truly adore the aesthetic of things.

Avery laughed in a discerning tone. She reached toward her clutch and grabbed a card from the folds. “Well if you need some guidance, here’s my card.” Sliding it across the table, the edge of the card hit the bottom of the glass. “Well I must be heading out, I have some work to do.” She came out from her side of the table to give Topher a hug.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, I’ll let you get on to your tasks. I will hopefully be in touch soon Avery.”

She threw back the last sips left in her glass and proceeded to make an exit. Avery knew there was something there, more than money, but she held reservations. And like that, she disappeared into the crowd for the afternoon.

Emerson had been listening all along at a table next to the two. He had wondered about their connection. There was still more to understand about Mrs. Avery before the slaughter. Just as she had known a deeper connection to Topher, Emerson had discovered some greater connection with the pair of them.

Later that day, He had poured a heavy pour of wine. Sat down and opened an app. With the cascading pictures, one after the other, looking the same. Each photo had possessed an aesthetic of a person, an outdoor setting, and shirtless. Duncan sipped his wine as he scrolled through the vast waterfall of men at his fingertips. 

Wondering, or perhaps second-guessing, if the “The One” existed. The wine had begun to take over his thoughts. At that moment, his phone pinged. It was Emerson.