City Beautiful Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Thank you!

  Acknowledgments

  City Beautiful

  Published by CM Foss

  Copyright © 2015 CM Foss

  First Edition: 2015

  Editing by: Nikki Busch Editing and Victory Editing

  Cover Art by: Streetlight Graphics

  Interior Formatting by: Streetlight Graphics

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  To Charlotte—I wrote this at your side, and I’ll never forget a moment of it. I miss you every day.

  Prologue

  Ivy

  There are those who think of cemeteries as romantic. Hordes of people gather to walk amongst the headstones, recognizing relations to themselves or to books they’ve read. They wonder about the history, the lives lived behind the dates and names. Behind the clichés quoted in stone. I can’t tell you about all the individuals laid underground, but I can assure you that their legacy isn’t so much in what they did on earth. It’s in who they left behind.

  I stood in front of my family, lined in a perfect row, the final dates carved in the final line far too close together in time. Tucking my hands in my coat pockets, I let my eyes roam around the scenery, avoiding the reality before me. Everything I needed to say had already been said over the years, over the past few weeks, and I was drained from the past few hours.

  I swallowed past the perpetual lump in my throat, piercing my lower lip with my teeth to compose myself, the sharp sting grounding me and pulling me away from the “what could have beens” running through my mind.

  It didn’t seem that long ago that I’d halfheartedly tossed my polyester-covered cardboard cap in the air, pretending to celebrate amongst my peers. Actually, it wasn’t that long ago when I handed that same cap to my mom as she lay in her hospice bed, tears of pride and regret pooling in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she’d said.

  Sorry.

  She was sorry she was dying. Sorry she couldn’t be there for me. Sorry she was leaving. Sorry she missed my graduation, of all the stupid things. I didn’t tell her I’d lost heart in the profession I’d worked so hard for. Long before. Right about the same time the doctors, whom I had revered at one time, made it clear there was nothing they could do to save the last of my family. The passion I’d had for time spent poring over journals and scrolling through websites was lost, buried in the soil in front of me.

  I softly rubbed the toe of my black pumps in a circle, smoothing the dirt into a track. I traced our names.

  David. Brian. Amelie.

  Ivy.

  I stared at my name for a long while before swiping my sole across it, erasing the letters. With a final glance at my family, I turned and walked to the waiting limousine. I slid in alone, having asked friends and acquaintances to give me this time to myself. Pulling out my phone, I stared at the influx of messages queued up and powered it off.

  “Where to, miss?” the driver asked, his eyes questioning in the rearview mirror.

  I looked out the window as we got closer and closer to the city, New York lights glowing amid the high-rise buildings despite the early hour.

  “Do you know where I can buy a car?” I asked.

  His sympathy-filled eyes met mine before darting back to the road.

  “What kind of car?”

  I shrugged. “Anything that can drive me from point A to point B. Anything easy.”

  “Yes, miss,” he said after a beat. “I know a place.”

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. “I’ll just grab a few things from home, and then you can take me there. If that’s all right.”

  He didn’t respond, just nodded as he continued on his path. And I’d never appreciated the silence more.

  Chapter 1

  Patrick

  “What you need, my friend, is pussy.” My best friend and roommate Sean clapped my shoulder as he slammed a beer onto the coffee table and propped his big ugly feet on the edge. I leaned forward on the couch to slide a coaster under the bottle and pushed his feet off the table. He rolled his eyes.

  “I’m tired of pussy,” I said with a groan. It wasn’t pussy I was tired of, per se. But what it was attached to. The personality of the pussy, if you will.

  He widened his eyes and started coughing. “Dude. No.”

  I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my face, running my fingers through my hair. “You know what I mean.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “I’m just tired. New York’ll be a fresh start. I’m hoping, anyway.” God I hoped so. New vibe, new people, new commute anyway.

  “You think the pussy there’ll be better than here in Dallas?”

  I smacked the back of his big bald head that for some reason drove women crazy. “I’m not going there for pussy, you asshole.”

  “Well, you should be. Otherwise what’s the point? You can save lives anywhere.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not saving any lives. Just buying some time. And only some of the time.”

  “That’s all anyone can do. So you might as well make the most of the time you have. With pussy.”

  He stood, grabbed his beer bottle, and walked into the kitchen to throw it in the trash. I rose as well, straightening my bow tie and tugging it away from my neck. Sean stared at me with derision on his face as I shrugged on my tux jacket and walked out onto my balcony to take a few puffs from my cigarette.

  “That shit’s gonna kill you, you know?”

  I shrugged and took another drag, the nicotine filling my lungs and soothing me in a perfectly chemical way. “I do know. I’m a doctor.”

  He looked at me with pity. “You ever relax, buddy?”

  I raised a brow. “That’s what I’m doing.”

  “Yeah. I can tell.”

  “Come on. Get your tux on, man.”

  He groaned loudly. “Why?”

  �
�Because it’s black tie. I don’t know. It’s my going-away party. I didn’t plan it.”

  “This is gonna suck. Why aren’t we going to a bar like normal people? Normal men.”

  “It’s Shana’s thing. She wanted to do something special.” Fuck if I cared.

  “You’re leaving her, and she wanted to do something special for you?”

  I shrugged and took another puff. “I’m not leaving her. I’m just… leaving.”

  “I fail to see the difference.”

  “Well, she does. We’re just friends anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I think your definition of that and hers are not the same.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Sean threw up his hands. “Do you even want to go to this thing tonight?”

  I stared off into the city lights glittering before me. The Texas humidity wrapped around me like a heavy, oppressive blanket. I let out a puff of smoke, but it didn’t have anywhere to go except to sit in a cloud around my face. I blew out a clean breath to try to clear the space.

  “Of course. It’s a party.”

  “A party where you’ll sit outside and smoke like an asshole and wish you were anywhere else?”

  “I don’t do that. I socialize.” Kind of. I would make more of an effort if the people interested me more. Most of the guests of this party, I wouldn’t even know. The ones I did know, I’ve known since medical school. And I didn’t really like them then.

  “Not with anyone you like. Don’t you ever just want to chill? Hang out? In like… a fucking T-shirt or something?”

  I shook my head and laughed. “What are you talking about? Maybe I’m just a grown-up, something you are still working on.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying that you’re in serious danger of a stick being stuck permanently up your vagina.”

  I flipped him off as he left to go change.

  Ivy

  “Go! Get out of this kitchen!” Connie snapped me with a dish towel on the rear.

  I yelped and jumped out of her way, laughing. “I’m helping.”

  “You don’t need to help. That’s why you pay me the big bucks. Go out for the evening. Have some fun.”

  I frowned. “Helping you in the kitchen is fun.”

  Connie turned, propping a fist on her round hip. “Sweetie”—her Southern drawl intensified—“that’s about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. When was the last time you went off this farm, other than to the roadside stand or Target?”

  “Target is a big deal,” I said in my defense. “It’s a long drive and very overwhelming.”

  “I know, dear. But it’s not fun.”

  I shrugged, pouting. “It’s a little fun.”

  Connie just looked at me with unconcealed sympathy, her frizzy salt-and-pepper hair creating a halo around her head. I avoided her eyes.

  “You been here three years, lady. And I’m your only friend. I’m too old for that shit.”

  “It’s not like there’s a booming social scene here, Connie.” I waved my hands haphazardly.

  She cocked one eyebrow. “How would you know?”

  I glared at her. It wasn’t that I didn’t like other people. I was busy. I worked all the time, and I saved my energy for the people who paid me for it. After that, I was spent.

  She soft smile lifted her features. “There are young people here, you know.”

  “I know,” I concurred. “But most of them have families, and plus I’m busy. There’s so much to do around here.”

  “What about a man?” She broached the subject delicately. Well, delicately for Connie anyway. “You need some lovin’. I see the way the boys around here look at you.”

  “Oh my gosh. Stop.” I buried my face in my hands as if it would somehow stop the onslaught of inappropriate that was about to be flung my way.

  “Well, it’s true. You may not want to think about it, but every woman has needs. Luckily, I got me a good man.” Her eyes glazed over and she fanned herself with a chubby hand. “And might I just say that my George knows how to meet every single one of my wants and desires.” I blinked a few times as I digested that little tidbit of information. It was definitely a visual I didn’t need, but Connie wasn’t shy when it came to boasting her sexual prowess. Then she pointed one firm and deliberate finger at me before declaring, “I put condoms in your room. Lots of ’em.”

  I shuddered dramatically. “Oh my gosh.” She was disgustingly hilarious, like the inappropriate in-law at a wedding.

  She snapped me with the towel again. “I’m serious. It ain’t healthy, the way you been livin’.”

  My eyebrows rose. “I’m probably the healthiest person you’ve ever met.”

  “Your body, maybe. But not your mind.”

  I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. Or cry. Either way. “That’s so mean.”

  “It ain’t mean if it’s the truth.”

  “Yes it is,” I argued. “It’s still really mean.”

  She shrugged and turned back to the sink.

  “Well then, let it marinate in that pretty head of yours for a while. Away from this kitchen.”

  Chapter 2

  Patrick

  “Congratulations, baby,” Shana cooed in her sweet Southern drawl as she stood on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. I smoothed a hand down her back and leaned down to give her easier access.

  I smiled tightly, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. “Thanks. And thanks for all this.” I gestured with my champagne flute to the room filled with close to a hundred guests. I probably knew a quarter of them.

  “Oh. Well, you know how proud Daddy is of you. We just wanted to do something special before you leave us next week.”

  I nodded and took a sip of my drink, mostly just to give myself something else to do. I wanted a cigarette, but I had to figure out how to extricate myself. Blowing out a breath, I looked down at Shana. I’d first met her in med school, and she’d always held herself a touch above everyone else. Not without reason. She was intelligent and driven, and she did nothing without her own motives.

  She was smiling up at me adoringly, expectantly. Her dark red hair was polished and twisted intricately on her head, not a lock out of place. She wore a tailored black cocktail dress that was perfectly modest and fitting for a politician’s daughter. Her perfectly manicured hand rested on my arm. There was so much fucking perfection surrounding her it suddenly made me uneasy, like I was watching a horror movie and waiting for the plot twist.

  Stepping away, I gently pried her off me. “I’m going to get a little fresh air. I’ll be right back.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not fresh air when you’re filling your lungs with tar, Patrick.”

  “Don’t start,” I said over my shoulder as I made my way to the patio.

  It was deserted since no one in their right mind would sit outside in the Texas heat, even at nine o’clock at night. I leaned against the iron railing and pulled a pack and a lighter out of my pocket.

  The solitude of the moment eased my tension, the click of my lighter and sizzle of tobacco making the only noise.

  “Mind if I bum one?” a sultry voice said from behind me.

  I stiffened and turned to see an attractive woman in her midforties holding out her hand. Her tits were shoved together under her chin, and her nipples were in serious danger of popping out. So she was attractive in a desperate sort of way.

  Wordlessly, I passed her my pack and let her draw out a smoke between her long, red nails. She placed it between her collagen-injected lips and leaned forward so I could light it. My eyes turned downward all on their own, because… Well, it was impossible not to look. I was kind of wondering what might happen.

  “You don’t remember me, d
o you?” she asked.

  “Ah, no.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to smile. I didn’t do the cougars. Sean, on the other hand… “I’m sorry. And I can’t imagine I’d forget.”

  “My husband is Dr. Roberts.” She sat down in a chair and crossed her bare, toned legs, not bothering to tug the material of her dress down. “He speaks very highly of you.”

  I nodded carefully, taking another drag. “Your husband has been very helpful to me. He’s a good man.”

  She sighed, long and hard, switching her legs. “I’m sure he is. I don’t see him often. He’s always working.”

  Increasingly uncomfortable, I tried to lighten the mood. For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t get a breather anywhere. “Yeah. Life of a doctor. We’re always busy; people are always sick.”

  “Everyone needs a little fun, don’t you think?” Her fingertips traced the neckline of her dress and I followed them with my eyes, albeit incredulously. Again, because I had to see what was going to happen. I wasn’t even turned on. It was borderline gross, the desperation coming off her in waves. Sean was going to love this story.

  Just then the door swung open and my friend stepped out, Shana directly behind him. Mrs. Roberts visibly stiffened, Sean grinned, and Shana looked on with wide eyes and a hurt expression. I rolled my eyes. It was time to go.

  “Well hello, Mrs. Roberts,” Sean piped up.

  “You two know each other?” I asked, eyes darting between them.

  “Of course. I see Judy every other morning at eight.” He still had on a shit-eating grin, clearly enjoying the moment. Sean was a personal trainer. And let me just say, a lot of his clients were Judys.

  I pushed off from the railing and leaned over to stub out my cigarette in an ashtray. I walked over and clapped Sean on the back. Hard.

  “Well then. I’ll leave you two to chat. I should be heading in.”

  Sean tried to stop me, his mouth opening and closing as he realized what was coming, but he was on his own. I escaped back into the party, Shana on my heels.