Chapter 2

"It's been a year, Lucas. What do you want?"

"In one word? You."

Monday, May 5th, 2008. Bethesda Fountain, Central Park, NYC.

Brooke

I take a step back. "Me? Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to put myself through that hell again?"

"It's been a year since that night. I'm sober, of sound mind and not grieving over being turned down or having broken up with anyone. I've thought about you every day since that night. So, I'm here to tell you that I'm still in love with you. That's all."

I close my eyes. His words are like music. Everything I want to hear and more. That's what makes me so angry. I've been through hell this year, trying to forget that kiss, trying to get over him. And here he is again, opening these same wounds again. Making my life hell again. "No! You're not in love with me. Go back to Peyton. Go say these words to her. Maybe she'll take you back."

He looks so hurt. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I don't understand what I did that made you so angry, but I'm sorry."

I raise my voice. "You have the arrogance to come here declaring your love after all you did to me and you don't understand why I'm angry? You broke my heart. Twice! And now you're here wasting my time with your bullshit? Get a life, Lucas. Find someone else to bother."

A single tear comes down his face. I saw this man go through unbelievable heartbreak, and I never saw him cry. That's who I am now. A stone hearted bitch that can make the strongest man cry.. I'm Victoria now. He breathes in deeply, collects himself and speaks again, in a measured tone. "My publisher is throwing a party this Thursday, seven thirty, at the Ballroom B at the Plaza. It's for the official release of my book. You were there when I signed the publishing contract, we celebrated together. I thought you might want to be there. Come, Don't come. Whatever. You've made your feelings very clear. I'm sorry I bothered you. Goodbye."

He turns around and walks slowly away. Shoulders slumped in defeat. Hands in his pockets. I stand there. Rooted to the spot, watching the love of my life walk away with his heart broken in a million pieces. He never looks back. I don't know what would have happened if he did. Maybe I would race after him, jump on him, kiss him like I've been dreaming for years. Maybe I would glare at him, urging him to keep going. Maybe he would finally see through my lies and my walls, to the stupid feelings I still have for him. Anyways, he never turns back. And an hour later I'm still there. Rooted to the spot. Trying to find the courage to move.

Tuesday, May 6th, 2008.

I drag myself out of bed at half past seven, after pretending to sleep for four or five hours. I shower, brush my teeth and put on my C.E.O. uniform. Even if I'm no good at anything else, I'm great at keeping appearances. I forgo breakfast and take the elevator down.

"Good morning Miss Davis."

"Good morning, Jason. How's the family?"

"They're fine. Thank you, m'am."

I read a report from my dear CFO, Victoria Davis on the way to work. As of this morning, Brooke Davis Holdings is worth seven hundred twenty three million dollars and change, and sixty percent of that is mine. Sales are up in the popular CoB line, and we are doing very well in the cosmetics division. The coutoure line shows a loss, but that is by design. Its purpose is more marketing, driving up the value of the Davis brand, than actually making money. All that wealth leaves a taste of ash in my mouth and a little headache starting between my eyes. The movie of Lucas back moving away slowly is running constantly in the back of my mind, making the whole fucking world gray.

I get off at the thirty-ninth floor, to a smiling Millie and my caramel latte. It's the first thing to enter my stomach since yesterday's lunch. The world begins to seem a little less gray on a settled stomach. "So, what do we have this morning?"

"There's a meeting with people from Neiman Marcus at nine thirty, and the communications people want to float a proposal for a cable TV fashion show. I have them down at ten thirty and..." We walk into my office and Victoria is standing in the middle of the room. "Ms. Davis wants to see you."

I turn to Millie and smirk. "Thanks for the warning."

"Sorry..."

"Good morning, mother."

"You're late."

"One of the advantages of being your own boss. I can arrive whenever I want."

"It's bad for business."

"So? I read your report. We seem to be doing fine. What do you want?"

"I wanted to go over resource allocation for next quarter, maybe consider a loan, or some stock issue to expand B Davies Communications..." She stops and looks at me. "What's wrong?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your hair and your make-up. Sloppy. This ensemble was put together by a monkey, and you look like you haven't slept in a week. This is unacceptable. What's wrong? Last time you were like this was after... Has that boy shown up again?"

Nobody ever accused her of being stupid. Just heartless. "No. And stay away from my personal life."

"Just keep in mind that your personal life reflects on the bottom line of this company, child. You are the public image of Brooke Davis Holdings. Remember that when you decide to show up for work looking like a homeless bum."

I sit down in my chair and close my eyes. I open them again, hoping that, somehow, mother had disappeared. No such luck. "Get out of my office, mother. Go poke the eyes off little kittens, or whatever you do in your spare time. I'm not in the mood."

"You're such a mannerless child. What's with your mood? We have business to conduct."

I raise my voice. "Not now mother! Get out of my office!"

She realizes she doesn't want to cross me right this minute. We've been testing each other's limits often for the past year, and we've both learned a bit about not crossing certain boundaries. It's a working relationship, abrasive and tiring, but it serves some kind of purpose. She leaves, but not without slamming the door on her way out. The beginnings of a headache have now flourished into a nasty little nail between my eyes. I touch my intercom. "Miranda."

"Miss Davis?"

"A glass of orange juice and two excedrin, please."

"Right away, miss Davis."

Miranda is my secretary, and her desk is right outside my office. Millie is my executive assistant, and she has an office and a secretary of her own. Five minutes later Miranda comes in with the juice and the pills. She also hands me an envelope. "This came by special delivery m'am."

"Thank you"

I take my pills and down the orange juice. I look at the envelope. I know what it is. It's got my name in front and the logo of Pearson House Publishers on the back. I open it and check the invitation.

"Lucas E. Scott and Pearson House would like to invite you for the official release of "An Unkindness of Ravens"... "

The invitation includes a plus one, and must be confirmed until tomorrow.

I go through my morning meetings, with only an occasional glance at the envelope on my desk. It just sits there like a dead mouse, and just as attractive. The problem is that I want to go. I want to go see his triumph. I want to see if that line he read to me, almost two years ago, made it to the published version of the book. But there's no way I can go, given where we stand after yesterday. No way.

My lunch is gourmet chinese and ice tea, eaten in the solitude of my office. After lunch I try to work on my sketches, but I can produce nothing but trash. After about an hour, I give up. I grab my purse and get out of the office. I walk aimlessly for an hour, and I find myself back at Bethesda fountain. I need to put an end to this. A clean break. I can't go on like this. Finally I make a decision. I take a cab back to the office and find my mother sitting on my chair, with the invitation in her hand.

"Where were you?"

"None of your business."

"This explains it." She waves the invitation at me. "He's back."

I know what the problem is. She is terrified of Lucas. She remembers it as clearly as I do. "Lucas Scott was the one boy I might have lost it for."

"Leave it alone, mother. I keep telling you to stay out of my personal life."

"And I keep telling you that your personal life impacts the bottom line of this company." She looks at the invitation and sneers. "You're not going."

I laugh. "Because you say so."

"No. Because he's no good for you. Look at you. This stupid boy pops up at the horizon and you start to break down."

I pick up the invitation from her hands. "If I want to go to the book release of an old friend, I will go. You are not going to stop me."

"If you're going, I'm going too."

I laugh again. "Thank you for the offer, but no thank you. I can find my own date."

She saunters out of my office. "Your funeral."

"Miranda."

"Yes, m'am?"

"Get me Mark Geller on the phone."

Mark is a photographer for Vogue. He owes me a couple of favors, which I'm now planning on cashing. He is tall, dark and built like a god. He is also bent as a fish hook, but it's not apparent, and very few people know that. He's perfect for what I have in mind.

"Hello, Mark? Hi, sweetie. Are you free Thursday night?"

"Hi, Brooke. Yes. I'm free. What can I do you for?"

"I need a fake boyfriend for one night. It's a book release party for an ex, and I just can't go stag."

"You know I'm your man, sweet girl. Time and place?"

"I'll pick you up at your place a quarter past seven. And keep your gay down, please."

"Anything for you, baby girl."

That sentence, dear to my heart, mocks me for the next couple of days.