~Keaton Vaughn~

~Zoe Anders~

Supporting Cast:

~Maurice Pitts~

~Vivi Tam~

~Hamilton Vaughn~

~Leona Vaughn~

~January 2012~

"I like your hair."

Instinctively, Zoe's hand went to the side of her head and slid against the thin layer of fuzz remaining. Her fingers found their way to the curls preventing an unobstructed view of her face. His words were the first ones spoken not yelled between them in over a month. Her mind struggled to comprehend. Once upon a time they were in love. She was a girl consumed with a boy and he...he was just Keaton. It began in middle school, a science project gone wrong and a new bond forged. They engaged in silent conversations with only the roll of their eyes and giggles bubbling from their lips. A two person club was formed and no one was granted access to their private world. Over time the link deepened, morphed, and developed into an unhealthy co-dependency. Both had been unwilling to allow an hour to pass without some form of conversation; phone calls, hand written notes, and sometimes the easiest of smiles curving lips with just the mere thought of their last kiss.

Then things changed.

Their goodbye had been tumultuous. A clear exercise of violence; she screamed at the top of her lungs; he balled his fists; and they both said things a simple I'm sorry could never absolve. She wouldn't hesitate to utter the two word phrase if it meant things could and would return to the way they had been. She missed him; more than she cared to admit. It wasn't sleeping alone or even waking and rolling into the cold space on the other side of the mattress. What bothered her most about the demise of her connection with Keaton was she couldn't immediately recall the how or why things fell apart.

"I didn't know you would be here." Zoe shook her head, emerging from her trip down memory lane, and took a few steps back from him. He looked the same. He was twenty two now but he still looked barely a day over sixteen. Her fingers itched to touch the clear acrylic fourteen inch gauges stretching his lobes. His pale skin was flushed due to his frustration and even in the midst of her own irritation she wanted to console him. She tortured her bottom lip with her teeth and tried her best not to meet the baby blue gaze searching for her brown eyes, "I just thought..."

The thin veil of her patience evaporated, "You never think Keaton...you just do." She nearly choked herself, looping the scarf around her neck before slamming her arms into her worn leather jacket. Her eyes burned as she stared at him and she struggled to confront the reason behind their brief reunion, "He was my friend too." She shirked from his touch when he reached for her hand. Now was not the time to indulge the heart still beating for him or to refresh her body, mind, and soul with the comfort of his touch. They were there to grieve, not to relive the past.

Although their tones were hushed, Zoe and Keaton still drew a crowd. People stopped and studied them. Those who had known them were used to the passion and intensity accompanying their interactions. They were possessive and inherently jealous of one another. It extended beyond their friendship and physically beneficial relationship into the everyday happenings of their lives. Acquaintances were tainted, reduced to pawns in the empty arguments between Zoe and Keaton. When their love affair ended, the two had the unmitigated gall, to pen a list with names of their so called friends and who would lay claim to their loyalties.

"I can't do this."  She had barely made it out the door and into the cold when she heard the sound of his boots pounding against the cement. Breathless from the impromptu chase, Zoe found her path blocked by the empty hearse charged with transporting the casket holding the shell of the man they had both called friend. The dam burst and the tears welling in the corners of her eyes trickled down her cheeks. She didn't fight when an arm wrapped around her waist, and turned her body to face the only person capable of calming the storm of emotions surging within her. "It should have been me." She felt the tremor pass through him in response to her admission. Keaton's reply was silent, fingers skimmed her tear stained cheeks and his lips soon joined the diligent digits. "It should have been me." She repeated her guilt burdened confession, silently wishing for any deity to right the wrong that had been done.

~`~

Zoe was shaking like a leaf and for the first time in years, Keaton didn't know what to do to make things better. He couldn't wrap his arms any tighter around her frame. He struggled to pull her closer, longing to be one with her again, hoping that some measure of warmth from inside of him would be enough to ease the chills snaking a path down her spine. It should have been me. Even recalling her words caused a fear he wasn't willing or able to confront, over power him. "I'm not ready to lose you." He cupped her face between his hands and forced her eyes to meet his. She could never hide from him, not face to face. Over the phone it was easy for her to spit insults and proclaim how thankful she was to be rid of him. He had held his tongue the day she walked out of his life and . The truth weighing heavily on his heart and yet he was unable to come clean, to part his lips and fight for the only woman he had loved for as long as he could remember.

Keaton was still sorting his way through fact and fiction when it came to understanding the final disagreement that led to their demise. It had been a typical day, they woke up, she fixed breakfast, and he sketched. Everything was perfect and then...

He held her tighter, needing to distance them and incomplete conversation from the event orchestrating their reunion. He felt the need to expound on his comment from earlier but he couldn't, instead, "You look good Zoe." He didn't miss the blood reddening her cheeks or the way her eyes drifted to her feet, hiding her embarrassment. She was beautiful, even with half her head shaved. He smiled, noting her fishnets and the black boots stretching towards her thighs. His body stirred but he dampened his reaction and reminded himself, now was not the time for those thoughts or actions. He capitalized on her vulnerability, taking her hand in his, running his thumb and index finger across the skin still bearing his name.

It should have been me. Replaying the words over again, sent a chill down his spine. How could he make her understand? In her mind it was over the day she packed her things, snatching the bags down three flights of stairs, and waited in the cold for her car to emerge from the garage. He didn't fight, he had watched as she fidgeted struggling to keep warm on frigid December day. She had toyed with the pack of black and milds in her purse before she tossed them in the snow. She nibbled on her nails, never casting a wayward glance towards the window where he waited. She was stubborn. He had been too proud to clear the stairs barefoot and drag her back to the building and their bed.

He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.  

He needed answers but he also needed her.

She slipped her hand from his grasp and took a step back. He moved closer, trapping her between his body and the glossy black Cadillac from the funeral home, "Don't run from me Zoe."

A delicious curse, capable of cutting him off at the knees, was on the tip of her tongue, the evidence blazing in the pupils of her amber eyes, when a throat cleared behind them, and ended their test of wills. Keaton didn't say a word when the car's driver, stepped closer, and asked them both nonchalantly to move. He gave Zoe the space she wanted; clearing a path for her to slip back inside of the mortuary. He continued to stare at the door, long after it had closed. She couldn't avoid him forever, today they would shed tears, and tomorrow he would take the first step in reclaiming what was rightfully his...her heart.

~November 2011~

Waiting was the hardest part.

Zoe could hear Keaton rambling just outside of the bathroom door. She could imagine him, sweatpants hanging off the boniest bit of his want to be hips. The bandage covering his newly acquired ink and the way his gaze casually drifted over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of her once she left the small bathroom. He was like a little kid; excited, needy, and dependent upon her for his most basic needs. He also went stir crazy when required to be sentenced to their home for more than two hours at a time. He had already eaten the cranberries for the sauce, demolished a pan of unsweetened cornbread, and he destroyed the remaining bottle of Chardonnay they had in the loft. His parents were coming for a Thanksgiving Eve meal and she was nervous but she had bigger things to consider at the moment.

She stared at the screen of the phone. She checked her signal strength. She dialed her voicemail to ensure her service was still connected. When she heard her voice and Keaton's laughter in the background of her recorded message, she disconnected the call and continued to wait. When the device finally buzzed in the palm of her hand, she was afraid to answer. Seconds passed by before her finger connected with the icon and she said, "Hello." There was no reason for her to speak; she listened, nodding her head, as if the caller could see her face. She shut her eyes as the voice on the other line confirmed the inevitable. There was no use for expletives or tears. The damage was done and she had a decision to make.

Zoe slipped from her hiding place a few minutes later, tucking the cell in the back pocket of her shorts before she headed to the kitchen. She cataloged the contents of the fridge and cabinets, prepping for a run to the store, when familiar lips caressed the nape of her neck and whispered, "Marry me." She let her body relax against his, "Today," She giggled when his mouth landed on the patch skin capable of causing one of two reactions in her, both leading to extended periods of nudity, "Right now." She didn't respond. She continued to write down important and necessary ingredients while he became reacquainted with her body. How did one person drive her so crazy? His fingers slipped to the waist of her shorts. He quickly divested her of the piece of clothing. She heard the intake of breath when his eyes landed on the cheeks prominently displayed in the lacey shorts. His hands covered her bare flesh and it was a struggle to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, "Don't ignore me Zoe."

Keaton was spoiled rotten. He always had been. Maybe it was his upbringing as an only child in his parents' Manhattan abode. Or it could have been related to her inability to tell him no. His touch grew more insistent and Zoe was fully aware of what came next.

His digits trailed along her delicate center. The pen began to shake between her fingers and her writing was no longer legible, "Keaton...shit..." It was all she could say when he slipped between her lower lips and began to tease her tender flesh with his thumb. One hand gripped the counter and the other held firmly to the pen.

"Do you want me to stop?" She pressed against his hand, taking him deeper, and answering his question the only way she knew how. Her hips rolled and her walls tightened around his explorative digits. A sound somewhere between a moan and a shout exited the back of her throat. Coherent vocalization was no longer an option, "Good because I hadn't planned on stopping." In one swoop he had her spread across the island in the center of their kitchen. His mouth joined his fingers and reason dissipated. Zoe was only concerned with achieving maximum pleasure. Between strokes of his tongue he shared his endearments of love. He made genuine promises she knew he intended to keep.

Forever...mine...were the words he spoke that tickled the shell of her ear.

Her body tensed and she wiggled her way from his grasp, "The market...I've got to go to the market."

Zoe left Keaton alone and confused while she disappeared behind the bathroom door to gain a moment of clarity in the midst of her lust crazed haze.

~January 2012~

 Nothing had changed.

Zoe's desire for Keaton remained. The flutter of butterflies in the pit of her stomach continued with just one glance in her direction. One minute in his presence and she already doubted the decision to leave him in the first place. It was his eyes, the tenderness in his touch, and the heartbreak etched in every line of his face. She had hurt him and that fact was hard for her to overcome.

Her limbs began to tremble when the organist motioned for her to move to the front of the chapel. She ignored the disapproving eyes. She didn't miss the whispers. She picked out snippets of conversation and the misplaced hatred directed at her. She pressed a kiss against the head of the shell that once held the soul of her deceased friend. Her lids lowered when her hand circled the mike. She hummed her way through the first stanza despite the clatter of keys and bang of one in particular. When the tears swelled to her eyes and she heard the opening keys of the song once again, she took a deep breath and began her torch song. Her voice cracked on the first note but she continued to plead for a precious Lord to take her hand and lead her on. She refused to sneak a peek of the crowd because she could feel Keaton's eyes burning through the layers of her skin.

Zoe stepped from the stage, stole a handful of tissues from the randomly placed box of Kleenex, and rushed for the doors.

She had never been fond of saying goodbye.

~September 2011~

"Dude, seriously, you ain't got to go home, but you got to get the hell out of here." Keaton groaned when Maurice nudged him with a foot, "And you stink, what were you drinking anyway, gasoline?"

The night before was a blur, there were shots, drinks, and of course an argument with Zoe. There was always an argument with Zoe. He couldn't recall what the fight was about this time. Maybe she was jealous of an overly appreciative patron who just wanted to thank him for a well mixed drink. Or maybe he had grown perturbed when one too many zealous male fans rushed the stage while she performed. Whatever the case may have been, alcohol coupled with their untamed emotions always produced a fight of epic proportions.

"Vivi called about five minutes ago," Maurice pulled back the panels and opened the blinds, "Z's puking her guts in the toilet as we speak, she's also been crying most of the morning," He tossed Keaton's pants on the bed, "Go home, lay some pipe, and make things right with your girl."

He tried to sit up and a wave of nausea washed over him, "Fuck Zoe, she needs to apologize."

Maurice stood at the door, arms crossed over his chest, quietly laughing at the scene before him, "You were an asshole last night or do you remember?" Keaton sat and listened to his friend recount the evening. The piece of ass he briefly enjoyed during a short break from Zoe arrived at the club, intent on making her presence known to her ex fling and his girl. She flirted, encouraged Keaton to join in on rounds of shots, and even had the nerve to kiss him goodnight. By the time she exited the building his ego was on cloud nine and when his real girl approached him about his behavior, he went off; which only led to Zoe giving free reign to her one quarter Bahamian roots and acting a fool in their place of employment, "In case you don't believe me, I have the video on my phone to prove it."

He buried his face in his hands, "How pissed is she?"

Maurice took a seat and lit a black from the pack in his pocket, "Weekend at the shore pissed and unlimited passes to flirt her ass off at Northern Soul."

"That's a negative."

He jumped from the bed only to be greeted by Maurice's very vocal and ear piercing disapproval.

"Warn me next time," Maurice covered his eyes, "No one wants to see your pale ass in tightie whities."

Keaton shoved his legs in the pants and grabbed his shirt, "Shut up..." He struggled with the remainder of his clothing, "Where are my keys?"

Maurice laughed, "That's the other half of the story, your drunk ass should never play poker," He sifted his keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of Keaton's face, "Take my car, I've got to try and convince Devario to give you back your ride."

~`~

Vivi Tam was standing outside of the apartment Keaton shared with Zoe when he reached home. His head was pounding and his pulse was racing. Vivi was Zoe's best friend and Keaton's worst enemy. Their semi - friendship had gotten off to a rocky start when the Japanese fireball overheard him, explain away the attachment to her friend, as just a physical thing. Years passed before she believed Keaton really cared for Zoe and each and every time he messed up, she quickly reminded him that she never approved of his place in her bff's life.

"About time you brought your sorry behind home." She didn't even give him a chance to respond, "What were you thinking, floating around the bar with that anorexic bitch," She moved for a cigarette and remembered the no smoking protocol of the exclusive building, "I should kick your ass myself but for some reason Zoe is in love with you even if she won't admit it to herself." Vivi turned the knob and stepped into the apartment.

The six room corner unit was freshly cleaned and the scent of pine lingered heavily, "Has she been sick all morning?"

The petite woman shrugged, "Merlot, Remy, Ciroc, and Patron...what do you think?"

Keaton shucked off his jacket and threw it on the sofa. He disappeared down the hall and tiptoed into their bedroom, "Zoe." He heard her body shift under the mountain of sheets. "I'm home." He ventured deeper into the room, closing the door and turning the lock. "I'm sorry about last night." A gush of air greeted him and soon Keaton was treated to the view of one very hung over Zoe Anders.

"What do you want a cookie?" He smiled at the site of ten cute, shimmery pink painted toes peeking from beneath the covers, "What you can have is my left ass cheek to kiss."

Keaton took her sass an invitation and lunged for the bed.

He tickled.

She kicked.

He attempted to steal a kiss and she damn near bit a hole in his back.

The playful and painful back and forth continued until Keaton pinned Zoe's hands above her head and straddled her body, "Enough."

She wiggled, squirmed, and eventually gave in, "I hate you."

A smile broke across his face, "No you don't." He eased into the space beside her and draped an arm across her stomach, "I'm sorry."

She curled into his side, "Don't forget stupid."

He kissed her forehead, "And stupid," His lips drifted lower and caressed her ears, "I love you."

Zoe kicked off the covers and bolted from the bed, "Just stop Keaton."

Keaton didn't allow her to put much distance between them. He was behind her within seconds, arms wrapped around her waist, "Zoe why do you hate that word?"

"Because people say the shit and they don't mean it," She plucked his hands from her body, "Just let this be what it is," She turned to face him, "A good thing that meets all of our needs."

He froze and took a step or two back, "Physical or emotional." He reached for her and she stepped from his grasp, "Zoe, don't shut down on me again."

Zoe moved closer and draped her arms around his neck, "Keaton, please, don't push," She lifted her body up on her tip toes and kissed the bridge of his nose before she walked out of the room.

~January 2012~

Keaton Vaughn and Vivi Tam were far from friends. Some would call them rivals, enemies, opposites wishing for the death of the main antagonist in their retrospective life stories, or you could refer to them as friend and lover competing for the same woman's heart. There was a brief period in their history of association that Keaton wondered if Vivi held repressed romantic feelings for Zoe and resented his role in her life. They eventually made the decision to agree to disagree. They tolerated one another's presence for the sake of Zoe. If it meant biting his tongue during a night on the town, his mouth was filled with blood, but a catastrophic argument had been avoided and he ended his night coaxing a moan from his favorite girl's lips.

That was the past and now Vivi had proven to be a reluctant ally, "Great move trust fund." Keaton's vision was still focused on the swinging wooden door of the mortuary, "You've got a way with the ladies." She eased into the pew beside them. Her face was half teasing and partly concerned. She had developed a certain fondness for him over the years, only she was allowed to berate him with insulting pet nicknames like, trust fund and limp dick.

Now was not the time, "Whatever Viv."

Keaton stood and stepped over the woman to his left. He emerged from the building into the frigid afternoon air. It was the perfect accompaniment for his mood. He pulled the Pall Malls from his back pocket and began to pound them against the palm of his hand. He stopped short of creating a pile of tobacco laced mush and retrieved a broken stick, clicked his lighter, and allowed the days of his life to tick away with every inhalation of nicotine. He took a few steps; sure Vivi would be hot on his trail. She didn't disappoint and soon he heard the click of her heels on the cement. He never understood how she or Zoe managed to run near marathons in their five story stilettos. She caught up to him quickly and fell into stride with his rhythm. She didn't speak, just held her hand out for a cancer stick, borrowed his lighter, and jaywalked her way to their destination.

"Just give her some time." It was an involuntary reaction he had to Vivi's words. His eyes rolled. His stomach turned. His fists formed two tight little balls. He was tired of walking on egg shells and avoiding the obvious.

He removed the woman's arm from his shoulder, "She's had enough time," and continued his trek. "When is she going to be honest?" He hadn't been ready for his relationship with Zoe to end. Everything was a complete blind side; her feigned anger, the fight that quickly grew out of control, and chore graphed escape from their apartment. "She's content to act like I don't fucking know shit." It was time for Zoe to grow the fuck up and admit her wrongdoings.  

One look at Vivi Tam said it all, "Keaton...Zoe doesn't...hell...she thinks you have no fucking clue about the truth behind what happened."

His hand hesitated above the door's handle. He studied the neon lights of the bar's sign. His mouth began to water in anticipation of the Johnny Walker Black awaiting him on the other side, but his stomach continued to churn when he thought about the series of events that culminated into the day's funeral, "I need a drink."

~`~

It was close to midnight when Vivi Tam crept into her apartment. She fumbled with the lock for a few minutes, her hands unsteady from the whiskey coursing through her veins and the dread of what awaited her inside. She prayed for slumber. Heartbroken Zoe was virtually inconsolable. She eased the door shut and hopped around to remove her shoes. A quiet re-entry would go a long way in not waking her guest. The room was unusually bright. The sheers were open and the moonlight flooded the space. Vivi tightened her jacket around her frame when she noticed the crack in the door leading to the balcony. She could see the figure in the moonlight. She recognized the roll of the shoulders and heard the tear burdened whimpers, "Zoe?" The woman in question furiously wiped at her eyes and struggled to regain her composure, "What's wrong sweetie?"

The rumors were always true. She loved Zoe Anders the moment they met. Maybe it was the bright smile or the expressive eyes, whatever the case may be; Vivi was Zoe's willing bitch for life, even if a romance was never meant to be. Zoe was star struck by Keaton at first sight. The Vans, attitude, and long bangs hovering over one eye was enough to steal Zoe's heart with one glance. There would have been no room for Vivi if the girls hadn't cemented their friendship in the sandbox. She never begrudged her the happiness Keaton provided. He was for lack of a better phrase, Zoe's, knight in shining armor. Disappointment, loss, and heartache were all concepts her friend was well acquainted with, she deserved love, but the hardest part was forcing Zoe to accept said affection.

In the early days of her relationship with Keaton, Zoe viewed everything with friendship tainted goggles. Even when the crowd around them saw unconditional love blooming between the two, Zoe ran, but she always found her way back to Keaton. The self inflicted torture she was enduring now was because she refused to listen to her heart and reconcile with the only man crazy enough to tolerate her bullshit.

Vivi cleared her throat and attempted to get Zoe to acknowledge her presence and unanswered inquiries, "You did great today."

Zoe side stepped the hug Vivi offered, "Were you with Keaton?"

There was an argument boiling just beneath the surface.

"We had a few drinks." Vivi tossed her shoes to the floor and dropped her keys in the bowl on the table by the door. She was tired and had absolutely no desire to mediate the war between Keaton and Zoe, "You two should talk."

The shake of a head was Zoe's initial response and then she softly added, "There's nothing to say, it's over."

Vivi took a breath and bowed her head, "Z he knows." Wide, red rimmed eyes met her face, "He knows everything."

December 2011

"Ms. Anders."

Zoe's head popped up at the sound of her name being called. She gathered her notepad and jacket and headed for the door that led to the exam rooms. She greeted the cherubic faced nurse who smiled sweetly from their initial introduction, to the stop at the lab, and finally to the corridor to the rooms in obstetrics wing. She shifted her bag from her shoulder to her hand when she heard her name called again. She recognized the voice immediately and she wished for the gift of invisibility, "Mrs. Vaughn."

There was no love lost between Zoe and Keaton's mother. She had always been viewed as an outcast. The small borough girl who wasn't light enough, pretty enough, preppy enough, for their silver spoon fed son, "This is a surprise."

It was obvious the woman had followed Zoe and the nurse from the back office waiting area to the suite of rooms. She was knocking on forty - five, there was no way she was contemplating having another child, especially when she had given birth to perfection twenty years before, "Yes it is a surprise."

The nurse tried valiantly to usher Zoe into the room but Leona Vaughn chose that second to reach for the girl and pull her back into the hall, "Is there something we need to know dear?"

A technician scurried into the room with a tube of gel in her hand and a fresh roll of paper to print images. There was no way she could lie with such damning evidence. Zoe tried anyway, "No everything's fine."

Leona Vaughn was tenacious, fashion had been her entire life and she'd left one throne to claim another as queen of the Upper Eastside Elite, "No you would never lie to your future mother in law, would you?"

She hated all five feet, ten inches of the woman before her. She hated the pseudo European accent that replaced the one from the farm in Arkansas. She hated that bitch could call her a nigger through clenched teeth and a smile, "What reason would I ever have to lie to you?"

Zoe side stepped the woman and entered the room. She followed the instructions she was given; shedding the thick sweater that concealed a noticeable pudge she had been passing off as guacamole and beer. She peeled off the jeans she could no longer zip and pulled on the thin paper gown they left for her to wear. She didn't flinch when the cold goo touched her skin. She shut her eyes tightly when the first images appeared on the screen.

"Ms. Anders do you want to see your baby?"

The first tear snaked a crooked path down her cheek. The second settled just above the bow in her top lip. She wiped her eyes and turned her head. Her heart skipped a beat at what was presented on the monitor. Gone was the blob she had seen during one of her earlier visits. No, now, she could see the promise of a cute button nose. She hoped for Keaton's dimples and her almond shaped eyes. Her fingers stretched towards the flickering heartbeat and she smiled, "Can I have a copy?"

The technician nodded her head, "I'll do one better...we'll send you home with a DVD."

Dressing was easier the second time around. The jeans slid into place comfortably and the zipper nudged a fraction of an inch. She clutched the disk to her chest as she walked towards the doctor's office. He motioned for her to enter while he finished his notes. Her hand went to the belly hidden beneath her clothing as she took a seat. She was having a baby, Keaton's baby. She thought about his whispers that graced her ears while he thought she was sleeping; the desire for a son or daughter who comprised the better halves of them, a home with two parents, and an overwhelming abundance of love. Even the mental mention of the world caused her to seize. She didn't trust those four letters. She didn't believe the feigned sentiment many associated with the word.

Fear set in and Zoe wondered if Keaton would choose the same path her father had. Would he cut and run, leaving her and his seed to find their way in life.

"How are you feeling Zoe?"

The doctor's question of concern pulled her from her negative thoughts, "Better, tired, a little run down, but better."

His brows remained furrowed and his mouth still held a frown. He cast his gaze back to the folder open on his desk, "Your vitals look good, blood pressure is a little low...your heart is steady and strong...no sign of infection..."

She grew tired of his tactics of avoidance, "Just spit it out already."

The man's shoulders slumped, "I don't have to remind you of the complications that come with sickle cell and pregnancy."

Zoe's eyes slid closed. Her mother had simply been a carrier; she didn't suffer from the disease, "I'm aware."

"Zoe, it's important you take care of yourself," She opened her mouth to speak and he silenced her with a raised hand, "I still want to get the father in her for testing, we need to know if he's a carrier, or if he suffers..."

She offered him a signature roll of her eyes, "He's white."

He responded accordingly with a roll of his hazel eyes and a snort of laughter for good measure, "Doesn't matter, we still need to look at the history of his genetic make up," He leaned forward, "This is serious and you can't keep running from this issue." He closed the folder, "See Jenna on the way out, schedule your next appointment, and keep it." He presented her with the brilliance of his rare smile, "I'd hate to come to Central Park West to find your ass and share the secret you refuse to tell."

Zoe wanted to hate the man but she couldn't, despite his harsh tone of his candid statements, she knew he cared, and had her best interests at heart. She slid the appointment reminder card in her back pocket and safely nestled the DVD between the pages of her spiral bound notebook.

In spite of her many fears, it was time for Zoe to come clean.