The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Twenty-Six

BRANDON

The slate gray matte walls of the restaurant are flecked with dots of gold, and yellow glass lamps hang low over the tables, their sultry dimmed lights eavesdropping on secrets of the rich and famous. The clientele and ambiance in this, one of the city’s newest restaurants, drip with riches. Jessica made this reservation.

“I have an invitation to city hall to meet with Elias Cardoza,” Jessica announces as our food arrives.

“You? Why did you get an invitation?”

“Yes, me. Why do you sound so shocked?”

I’m shocked because Jessica is as far removed from Cardoza and the world of boxing as any two identities could be. It’s almost as ridiculous as someone like me helping out on Kyra’s food nights. “I don’t see the connection. Why would someone like Elias Cardoza reach out to you?”

“I’ve donated to some causes dear to his heart.” She picks at her salad.

“What causes?”

She waves her fingers, as if she’s trying to remember. “Some ... some children’s charities, I think.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

“I picked what he was associated with. Things like that aren’t hard to find with celebrities. You can look up these things online. I’ve even donated to that Kyra Lewis’ place. I see Elias is a big donor to that.” Jessica picks up the napkin with her perfectly manicured nails, sharp as talons and her almost dark purple nail polish. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t get an invite.”

“The people at Redhill did.” Fredrich mentioned it to me. Kyra didn’t.

“I’m not surprised. Causes like that are very dear to the boxer’s heart, I hear.” She picks at her salad.

“But you run an art gallery. You’re not interested in those causes.”

With a flourish of her hand, she jabs a forefinger at me. “Neither are you, Brandon. Not really. Not for the right reasons.” Her wily smile reveals her perfect teeth. She has no soul. No empathy. “You and I care nothing for those people or those causes, but at least I’m not actively working against them without their knowing.”

I shift in my seat, the lamb on my plate suddenly not so appealing.

“I am a huge benefactor in this city, Brandon. I donate to worthy causes.”

“You do?” I don’t believe she’s doing it for the right reason. She would strike a deal with the devil if it served her.

“Yes, really. Who wouldn’t want to be at city hall at Elias Cardoza’s celebration party?”

I don’t answer. The gleam in her eye is sharp and cutting. Like a laser. “The local news networks will cover it,” she continues, with an enthusiasm I haven’t seen before. “He’s the pride of Chicago. What do they call him?” She clicks her fingers trying to remember.

“Chicago’s New Hope.” My voice is as dull as my mood.

“That’s it. Chicago’s New Hope. Me being associated with him—which I intend to be at that event—is great publicity for me.”

“You’re using him,” I point out.

“What’s wrong with that?”

I’m still peeved that Kyra and Cardoza are such good friends, but Jessica? Even I have more heart than her.

“He’s the champion of the world, Brandon. Do you have any idea what kind of money he got for the fight?”

I shrug. “It wasn’t on my list of things to find out.” But I bet it’s a heck of a lot. My mind drifts away while Jessica oozes over Elias’ newfound wealth. She purrs about getting the chance to meet him in person finally.

“He’s got a girlfriend,” I announce. “Some journalist.”

Jessica makes a face. “I know. They got engaged. It was all over the papers like a rash.”

“Keep that fact in mind when you’re introduced to him.”

“I’ll try.”

“You surprise me, Jessica.” I pick up my glass of wine. “You’re not such a refined connoisseur after all.”

“Connoisseur?”

“An art gallery owner,” I state, not understanding her sudden girl crush over the surly, tattooed fighter. I can very much see why women are drawn to him. Cardoza is the epitome of ripped bad boy as well as a world class boxer. Lucky son of a bitch, and yet I’ve never considered Jessica to be the type to fall for someone like him.

“He has charisma.”

“Emma was in a car accident,” I announce suddenly, derailing the conversation.

“Emma?”

“My PA. You’ve spoken to her a few times, surely you should remember?”

She dabs a napkin at the corners of her lips. “How awful. What happened?”

I relay the information, but I notice that I got a more sympathetic reaction from Kyra. I wish I was sitting here with her instead.

Jessica still picks at her food, and at the end, says, “That’s tragic,” but her voice doesn’t echo the gravity of the news I have imparted.

I wait for her to say something more, to offer sympathy for Emma and words of comfort to me. But she doesn’t. “She’s opened her eyes, and …” I tell her, but Jessica is busy craning her neck, trying to get the server’s attention. I give up. We eat in silence until the server comes over and Jessica asks him for another type of salad dressing.

“What were you saying?” she asks.

“Nothing. It wasn’t important.” I vow not to speak to her about Emma again.

“So, I’ll be meeting the new heavyweight champion of the world at city hall.” She suddenly sounds like a groupie, and I can’t believe I have to hear her gushing about Cardoza and this event all evening.

“He’s only caught your attention because of his fight money.”

“Of course. Why else would I notice him?” She lifts a forkful of salad, to her lips. this has to be her fourth or fifth forkful, while I’ve almost finished my dinner. It occurs to me that Jessica barely eats. She plays with her food, just like she plays with the people in her life. I suddenly realize that the woman who I thought was everything I wanted in a wife no longer holds my interest. She has everything I like—power, wealth, status—but it is no longer enough.

She has no heart.

I also have no heart, but something in my DNA is shifting. I feel things I never did before. Some good, some bad. Some hard to understand.

“He was amazing in the fight,” I say. Having seen the highlights, Cardoza was like a ferocious beast in the ring. Garrison stood no chance.

“I didn't watch the fight. I find those matches vulgar.” Jessica turns her nose up as if she's sniffed something rancid.

“Good party?” I allude to what she was up to on the night of the fight.

“It was a fabulous party. Great company and food. You should have come.”

“I was busy.” I don’t even want to tell her about what I did on that night.

“You're always busy these days,” she counters.

“It's not easy juggling two different worlds.”

“First world problems.” A smile spreads across her lips. I brace myself. “I’m going to bump into your new boss. I can’t wait to give her the once-over.”

The complete change in topic jars me. It takes me a moment to make sense of this. Then I realize she’s talking about Kyra. “If you mean Kyra, she isn’t my boss.”

“You work for her, don’t you, Brad? That woman will want to kill you when she finds out what you’ve done.”

Kyra will hate me. I’ll probably be better off dead. I don’t even want to think about that moment when she finds out the real reason for me joining her company. I don’t want to face seeing the look of disappointment in those sparkling green eyes. “We’ll see.” I lift my glass and take a sip.

“I hope I’m there to witness it. Come with me,” Jessica exclaims, sounding overly excited. “I have an extra invitation for my plus one.”

“I’m not your plus one.”

A line appears between her eyes as she observes me over the rim of her cocktail glass. We haven’t talked about us, or where this is going. I’m aware that this subtle dance we’ve been doing for months is leading nowhere. It has suited us both, but it has run its course.

I no longer want to pursue this, but I’m not sure what Jessica thinks. I sense her glacial exterior of noninterest is a façade. When I try to walk away, she might try and sink her hooks in further.

“Come anyway,” she purrs, thankfully not questioning why I’m not her plus one.

“I can’t. Kyra will be there and I can’t run the risk of meeting anyone I know.”

“That’s a shame. What a missed opportunity.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“We could have had so much fun.” Her voice is flirty, with a girlish tone I’ve never heard before. She’s playful tonight, it’s almost as if that granite guard of hers has come down and she’s allowing herself to show emotion.

“I can’t risk it.”

Jessica would love to see me running into Kyra with Jessica’s arm hooked into mine.

It’s not going to happen. No way in hell.