Hostile Contact (The Hostile Series) Read online

  “No. I seriously doubt that you'll need it in the future,” she rejected and closed her car door as she started the engine. She put the car in reverse to back out, but a car stopped behind her.

  Symóne let down her window and leaned out, “Faye! Please don't start, I am really not in the mood for this right now!”

  Faye ignored her rant and smiled at Mr. Harrison. “So…what's your name?” she asked.

  “Trevor—Trevor Harrison,” he reached to shake her hand causing her to smile harder. “…and yours?” he asked.

  “I'm Faye, and this is my best friend Symóne,” she smiled victoriously.

  Trevor turned to face Symóne, but she had slumped back in her seat and dropped her head. He stepped to her car door.

  “So Symóne, may I buy you dinner, for keeping your keys all day?” he asked.

  She didn't respond to his request, but reached to the controls on the door, letting up her window, then locked the doors. Refusing to look at him, she fumbled with the radio and sporadically looked in her rear view mirror at Faye with a glare that threatened to end her life if she didn't move from behind her so that she could leave.

  Faye shrugged a sympathetic shrug toward Mr. Harrison then pulled off and headed out of the parking lot. She didn't want to push her friend when she clearly wasn't ready, so she gave up.

  Trevor stepped away from Symóne's car, allowing her room to back out of her parking slot without the chance of her running him down and leaving him for dead.

  Symóne backed up without looking in his direction and began to pull away, but stopped suddenly and partially let down her window.

  “Trevor?” She called out to him as he was walking toward his Range Rover with his hands in his pockets. He then stopped and turned in response.

  “Thanks for returning my keys,” she gave him a once over, then continued out of the parking lot.

  He chuckled and grabbed his brief case off the hood of his ride, then got in and headed to the Bravo Plaza. The valet took his car after he grabbed his briefcase from the back seat and headed inside the open doorway where he was greeted by the doorman.

  “Thank you Howard,” he spoke and stopped by the front counter to retrieve his mail.

  He then headed up to his fourth floor condo and dropped his briefcase on the sofa, then headed through his bedroom to the bathroom and started the shower. After stripping down, he stepped inside the steaming hot shower, letting the water soak his finger length, dark brown wavy hair. His tanned skin reddened as the sting of the hot water draped his body, trickling down to the floor of the shower. Once his body braved the initial burn, he lifted his head and let the water massage his face as he reached for the shampoo bottle and squeezed a small dollop into his palm and set the bottle back on the shelf. He began to lather his hair, massaging his scalp for a few minutes then rinsed away the shampoo. He looked through several choices of body washes and chose one that was more vitalizing as he still had some work to do once he had dinner.

  His phone rang just as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, and he rushed to retrieve it.

  “Mr. Harrison? Sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor in the lobby,” said the receptionist.

  “Who is it?” he asked. He wasn't expecting anyone, and it was highly unusual that anyone would show up unannounced.

  “She said her name was Brimmer.”

  “I don't know of anyone by that name. What does she look like?” he was curious.

  “She's about five foot eight, medium build, blonde hair,” the receptionist rattled off.

  Trevor thought for a moment of the clients he'd met during the day and skimmed his brain for past clients, and felt that it could be any number of women.

  “I'll be down in about ten minutes.”

  He quickly dried himself off, then stepped inside of his closet and opened one of the drawers in the center island dresser and took out a pair of boxer briefs and slipped them on. He then pulled a pair of dark blue jeans from a hanger and stepped into them as well then sat on the foot stool and put on a pair of sneakers while continuing to search his mind to remember who this woman could possibly be. After pulling a polo style shirt over his head, Trevor started for the door and grabbed his keys on the way out and stood at the elevator door and waited for it to open. He finger brushed his wavy hair backwards and stepped onto the elevator as the doors opened.

  When he reached the lobby, he started toward the front desk in search of this woman and looked to the receptionist for her assistance. There were at least thirty or so people moving about the lobby and he needed to know who came looking for him. The receptionist nodded toward the woman and he looked in her direction. She stood and smoothed her pant suit and approached him with a smile.

  This woman looked familiar, but he just couldn't quite place her face from where he'd seen her.

  “Hello Mr. Harrison, I'm Faye Brimmer—from earlier today?” she sort of checked his memory, since he didn't seem to recognize her. The sudden realization of their encounter flooded his memory and he smiled and reached out to shake her hand.

  “Yes, I remember you now. The parking lot at the Plaza,” he confirmed.

  “Yes. I know that this is quite forward of me to visit you at home, but…” she looked down at her feet for a quick second, then looked back up at him plainly nervous about what she needed to tell him.

  He was curious of why she came, as he hoped that it had something positive to do with her friend, Symóne. He gave her an encouraging look to continue.

  “Well…I know that you have an interest in my best friend, um…Symóne,” she sighed and took another deep breath. “I'm here to help you win her heart,” she confessed.

  Trevor raised his brows and began to wonder what did this woman have to gain from hooking the two of them up. He gestured her to a pair of chairs that were located in a semi-private area where they sat down for him to hear the rest of her plan. He wasn't sure if he wanted to use her help, as he was certain that given time, he could win Symóne over on his own. As an attorney, he could very well read people's personalities and knew that she was broken and just needed time and reassurance, and he was definitely a patient man.

  “What makes you think that I need help or that I want to pursue her?”

  “Usually, Symóne is so hateful toward men that they run in the other direction immediately after their encounter. But, when she told me about your incident this morning, and that you bought her breakfast, I knew that you had to be special. This afternoon, when you brought her keys to the parking lot and still attempted to reach out to her, I knew then that I had to do something to help her,” she breathed, then waited for his response.

  “So, why exactly is she so opposed to meeting men?” he wondered just how badly she was indeed broken and how hard would he have to work to break down the steel walls she'd built around her heart.

  “It's a long story, but here's the short version,” Faye began, taking a long draw of wind into her lungs.

  “Symóne was in a very serious relationship a few years ago. She invested almost four years in this man and completely trusted him with everything. I even believed that they would be inseparable forever. That wasn't the case, but skipping all the details, he took her for everything she had and left her for an eighteen year old and all of this happened without any warning. He kissed her goodbye one Friday morning when she was on her way to work, just as he had every morning for the entire time they were together, and told her that he loved her. When we got off work that afternoon, I came home with her because we were all going out later. But, when we got there, her apartment was completely emptied,” she sounded angry at the thought, but continued. “Furniture that she'd paid for, personal items that belonged to her and things that were her mother's, who is dead now, were gone. I couldn't believe that this jackass even cleaned out the pantry and refrigerator! Who does that?” her true emotions surfaced.

  Faye was shaking her head at the remembrance and could hardly sp
eak further on the matter as she didn't want her confession to sound like she was throwing a pity party for her friend.

  Trevor spoke, “Where did he go, and was she able to get any of her things back?”

  “She has only heard from him once, about three months later. He had the nerve to call and ask her to mail him her copy of the key to his car,” she growled. “He knew that she would try to find him to get some of her things back, but the post office box number was in some little small town near Jacksonville Florida. I called to see if I could get some information on the owner of the box, and all they could tell me was that it was in the name of some guy named Harry Henderson…like the movie, Harry and the Hendersons?” she paused to see if he'd heard of the movie. He nodded and waited for her to continue.

  “Anyway, they said that the post office box was a go between address. Anything sent to that particular box, was diverted to another address that was undisclosed to the public and the guy on the phone couldn't give me any more information than that,” she finished.

  Trevor looked to be in thought, pulling at the stubble on his chin. Faye waited while he came to grips with what she'd just told him and had to wait longer than she wanted to. Trevor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and extended his hands out in front of him, intertwining his fingers together.

  Without looking at her, he asked, “What's your deal, Faye? Why are you determined to put your friend and me together?” he wondered if his background as a high powered attorney had anything to do with it.

  “Well…Mr. Harrison,” she started.

  “You can call me Trevor,” he side glanced at her.

  “Thanks. I'm doing this for two reasons. First, it's obvious that you like Symóne…a lot,” she waited for confirmation, but he didn't give it to her. He urged her to continue. “…and second, I think that you could help her in more ways than one,” she bit her lip as she was about to drop a bomb on him that he was already expecting.

  “How would that be?” he asked.

  “Well, you seem extremely tolerant of her anger issues, which is not the real Symóne. My best friend is nothing like she used to be, before her ex snatched her heart out and ground it up like meat. Also, if you did fall for her, maybe you could use your connections and resources to help her get her mom's cookbook back? It holds sentimental value like you wouldn't believe,” she breathed.

  “So, let me get this straight. You're here to get legal help for your friend to get back some items that were taken from her nearly three years ago—and possibly at no charge?” he turned only his head to look at her. Hearing it come out of his mouth in that manner, did make it sound opportunistic and shallow. She gulped big, but nodded with a sigh and dropped her shoulders and waited for him to go off on her.

  “Faye, I can assure you that just from what I know about Symóne in only one day, she will not accept any type of help from me. I'm almost certain that she would be highly upset that you are here right now making this suggestion to me. Also, I can't imagine that she would be okay with you exposing so much of her personal business to anyone, let alone a perfect stranger that she refuses to have anything to do with,” he sat back and let her meditate on his words.

  She sighed audibly and shook her head. Her thoughts were, I have possibly ruined any chance at Symóne's happiness with my big mouth. “You're right Mr. Harrison…um, Trevor. I am so sorry that I came here and laid all of this drama on you. Symóne would be furious with me, and thank you for your time,” she expressed, then stood and started toward the entrance. Once at the door, she turned back for one final glance at him, but he was already getting on the elevator.

  She went outside and walked down the block to a parking lot and got in her car and headed home. All the way there, she hoped that he would find a way to avoid making contact with either of them in the future, to save her from any further awkward moments.

  The next morning, Symóne had gotten up and went about her normal Saturday routine—watering her plants and vacuuming the carpet in her apartment. When she was done, she opened the cabinet in search for her can of ground coffee and found that there was none.

  “Ugh! I forgot to get more,” she complained, then thought that maybe her morning coffee wasn't quite the necessity that it had been before.

  “No, I need my caffeine if I'm going to deal with Faye all day,” she semi chuckled at the thought of how sickeningly bubbly her best friend is. She turned and headed to her bedroom closet and found a pair of jean shorts and an orange, loose fitting, designer blouse to put on, then searched through her insanely large collection of platform heels for the matching orange pair to slip on. Her thighs and calves were very toned, due to the fact that she ran three miles a day on the treadmill in her building's gym.

  Symóne took the stairs as she normally would and headed out to the parking lot to get into her car. Heading to the grocery store to buy another can of ground coffee and a few other items she needed in her kitchen, she came upon a traffic jam. Traffic was backed up as far as she could see, but still too far away to see what caused the jam. She decided to take a detour once she reached a side road that would take her the long way around to the grocery store, but the cut through from that road was blocked as well. She continued straight, coming out to the main road that led to the Plaza where she worked.

  “I guess I'll just grab a cup of coffee from the coffee shop and try the store later on then,” she sighed and pulled into the customer parking lot, which was much closer than the employee parking lot, and got out in front of the shop. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who needed to have coffee bright and early on a Saturday morning as the line was very long. Symóne stepped in line behind two women who were talking annoyingly loud to be in such a confined space. But in an attemt to ignore the conversation to help pass the time, Symóne sent Faye a text…

  Symóne- what are you doing right now?

  Faye- having breakfast with mom.

  Symóne- why didn't you answer your phone last night?

  Faye- I was busy. Why? What did you need?

  Symóne- Busy doing what?

  Faye- It's personal.

  Symóne- Come over when you're done eating. I'm at the coffee shop. Be home in a few.

  Faye- Okay.

  She finally made it to the counter to place her order. “Large black coffee and a toasted bagel with cream cheese. Don't fill my cup to the rim, thank you,” she rambled off what seemed to be her usual.

  “Not much for a variety, are we?” an all too familiar voice said from behind her. Symóne dropped her shoulders and turned slowly to face Trevor.

  “Can't you find someone else to harass?” she rolled her eyes at him and returned to her earlier position and paid for her coffee and bagel, then walked away to the table to add a few teaspoons of cream and sugar to her coffee this time. By the time she put the lid back on her cup and turned to leave the coffee shop, Trevor was waiting outside the door with a smile on his face.

  “Symóne…wait, please,” he called after her as she breezed past him. She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. When her head fell back as though she looked to the sky for some magical way to just disappear, he chuckled and came to stand beside her.

  “I don't mean to harass you or upset you in any way. I do sincerely apologize if I'm catching you at a bad time. However, I can't help wanting to get to know you better,” he paused, her head dropped forward and she turned to glare at him. Somehow, when she really looked into his eyes, she saw something that made her halt her rant.

  She sighed with slight irritation, but tried to be more diplomatic with her reply.

  “Look, Trevor…”

  He smiled that she was actually showing signs of wear.

  “Please don't take this the wrong way, but…you're not my type and I don't have time for this. Actually, don't waste your time trying to get to know me better, because it's not going to happen,” she partially turned to walk away, but something about his smile, slowed her exit move. It wasn't until her phone ch
imed with a text, revealing that Faye was on her way, that she was able to pull herself out of the daze he'd captured her interest with.

  “I understand,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I hope that whoever broke your heart, is grateful for the power you allow him to have over your life. If you somehow ever decide that you want to take your life back and live abundantly, please give me a call,” he offered, handing her one of his business cards, then turned to walk toward his building.

  Symóne scowled at this man's assumption about her life and his presumptuous belief that he would ever become the man she would next give her heart to. She watched him walk through the glass doors and disappear, then she continued to her car. Before she pulled off, she sent Faye a text — on my way.

  Chapter 2

  Trevor headed up to his office for a meeting with an actress to start proceedings on her divorce from her well-established movie producer husband. He had to put on his game face, as he was somewhat distracted by Symóne's potential break through.

  “Come on in Mrs. Dennis,” he spoke.

  “That's Miss Henry now. I'd prefer not to be associated with my soon to be ex-husband any further,” she spat viciously.

  “Hmm, well Miss Henry…I've been looking over your deposition and the files from his accountant, and I've found a few errors in your findings of Mr. Dennis' finances,” he began. His client sat straight up, stretching her neck to look across his desk at what Trevor had outlined in red.

  “What errors?” she screeched. “My husband has two business accounts here in the states, and three off shore accounts. We own three homes in the states, one in California, one here in Texas, and the one in New York. We also have a vacation home in the Cayman Islands. He surely can't deny any of this with all of the evidence I've provided,” she complained.

  “No, he surely can not deny owning the properties, nor the accounts. However, I've run the figures according to the accountant's copies of your husband's tax records, assets, and properties, and they just don't add up,” he raised an eyebrow at her.