Page 24 of Pure Abandon

When the new proposal comes in through my e-mail, I print it and drop it in an interoffice envelope along with the other documents Erik already approved. Taking the envelope, I walk it over to Trish’s desk to be sent up to the top floor. If I can avoid having to see Alexander Asher, then I will at all costs.

Letting my hair down from my low ponytail, I brush it out to let loose a little. I’m supposed to meet Gabriel in a half hour at the Museum of Modern Art. I change from my heels to a pair of ballet flats I keep in my bag and marvel at the relief they provide. Gabriel doesn’t care if I wear heels or flats, and tonight I’m going for comfort.

I’m just about to head out the door with my bag in hand when my cell rings.

“Hey.” I answer after seeing Gabriel’s picture light up the caller ID. It’s a picture of him in his tux at our wedding. He looked so unbelievably beautiful that day.

“Don’t hate me.” Yup, those are the first words out of his mouth.

I slump my shoulders and drop my bag on my desk. “You’re bailing on me.” It was a statement. Not a question.

“I am so sorry. I swear if I could leave, I would, but I just got this file on my desk with affidavits and I have to file an appeal immediately.” I can picture Gabriel running his hands along his forehead and down through his hair.

My head falls to my chest and I lean against the white wall. “You know, for someone who gave me a hard time about working because I won’t be there for our family, you are doing a damn good job at it yourself.” I feel bad throwing it in his face, but it had to be said.

“I’m not going to argue with you.” His voice is deep and understanding. “But this job is our future, Kat. And this client is very important. If I can at least settle this case, then I’ll be made partner.”

If he makes partner, he’ll work just as hard and long to prove himself. It’s in his nature. I know this is all a sacrifice for our family. Gabriel has it in his head this is what I want and we need. It's a grand departure from the things he used to do in life. All he ever enjoyed was sailing, and he doesn’t even do that anymore.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m tired anyway.” I am really looking forward to our bed right now. I pick up my bag and start heading for the door.

Gabriel spends the next five minutes convincing me to go to the exhibit anyway. He says we already have a sitter and the exhibit is only on for a few more weeks. Since I already bought tickets, I concede, but only promised to go for one exhibit because I really am tired.

The Museum of Modern Art is on 53rd street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. Since it is a warm June night, I decided to walk and am extra thankful to be wearing my flats.

I step into the building, taking a program from a curator standing at the entrance, and head straight toward the exhibit I want to see. The museum has been having an ongoing screening cycle of movies throughout the twentieth century. All the films are being looked at through the eyes of the director. It seems boring to some, but I’m the kind of girl who watches the director’s cut DVDs and the cast and crew interviews in the bonus chapters. The exhibit has been going on for quite some time, but there is a particular feature on Charlie Chaplin I want to see, and today is the last day.

My mother got me into old movies, and I was always fascinated by Chaplin. I studied him in one of my art theory courses. Actually, I’m fascinated by all silent movies, especially those without subtitles. To be able to express your emotions without the use of words is incredible.

The next feature is a film called The Dictator. Charlie Chaplin made silent films well into the period of sound films, but this was his first talking picture. He starred, wrote, produced, and directed this film, which became his most commercially successful film.

I can’t say I care for its content, but I’m fascinated to see what the museum has from Chaplin on his thought process going into his first major talking film.

I take a seat, placing my bag and the program on my lap, and hope not to fall asleep during the two-hour showing.

The screen lights up and my eyes start to dim.

I don’t know if its been two minutes or two hours, but my body startles awake. I lift my head from its slumped position and remove my knuckles from my chin. There is a tiny bit of drool coming from my mouth so I wipe it away. How embarrassing.

Looking down at my phone, I see only twenty minutes have passed. There is no way I am going to enjoy any of this.

I run a hand through my hair and wipe under my eyes in case any mascara leaked during my power nap. Grabbing my bag, I stand and leave the room and make my way to the main lobby.

Taking my compact out of my bag, I take a better look at my appearance. My reflection tells me to go home. Smart woman.

There is a beautiful couple to my side, talking with a curator. The woman has long blonde hair and an enormous rock on her finger. Her body is svelte in a curve-hugging crimson dress that lands just above the knee. The dress is long-sleeved but sexy as hell. You can see her perky breasts bursting out the V-neck and every muscle on her glutes through the fabric. A gentleman is resting his hand on her lower back, and they look the epitome of refined. Middle-aged with a slightly round stomach, the husband’s face is rosy in the cheeks and his eyes are kind, especially when they look toward his wife.

At least some people can make time for date night.

My thoughts are interfered as an intense energy comes over me. I don’t feel heat; I feel chills, as if someone opened the door on a blistery winter day. A tingle runs down my spine and the hairs on my neck stand up.

I rub my hands on my forearms to calm the goose bumps. Its an odd feeling to have on a warm June evening. My nerves spike at the feeling of this new energy, and it pulls me from my thoughts in the form of a deep melodic voice.

“It’s not appropriate to stare.”

I close my eyes briefly before turning around to see the source of my nervous energy.

And then it’s heat. Nothing but heat.