WEAKENED: The Manhattan Bound Series Book One Read online

  WEAKENED

  Book One

  Manhattan Bound Series

  By Juliet Braddock

  © 2014 Juliet Braddock

  Cover design by WLK Media LLC © 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  A Note from Juliet

  First and foremost, I dedicate this book to my mother. She bought me my first typewriter at the tender age of six and encouraged my talents when I thought I had none. She convinced me that one day, I would write a book. And she was always my biggest fan. Dearest Chuck, I love you and miss you every day. I wish you were here to celebrate this milestone with me.

  Next, I want to thank the two best friends in the entire galaxy—Heather and my Fairy Godfather. I love you two so much. You’ve completed my life, and you’ve made me realize that it’s not always all about the good times. You accept my quirks, laugh at my jokes, get real with me when it’s necessary and stop me from my own self-destruction. All that heavy stuff aside, you both know good food, great cheese and superb wine. And you both love theater. I am so very blessed, and you’ve both made my world a brighter one when it was at its bleakest.

  And Heather, thank you for giving me the most beautiful gift of all—my Goddaughter.

  Rachel, where do I begin? You were my first reader, and you became such a dear friend. You dared to shovel through my rough drafts and gave me the kindest of constructive criticism. Along the way, we shared our love of cats. And books. And good food and wine. Let’s not forget theater. And everything else under the sun. I cherish our friendship.

  Paula, I thank you for restoring some tradition in my life (Thanksgiving, post-Halloween K-mart, PS runs…and even Peruvian lunches) and for understanding me without question when I say to you, “This litter box saved my sanity.” Period.

  Joanne, I adore your sass and pizazz, and you know I admire your love for all things French. Well…most things French.

  Julie, we are so like-minded, but I still want to be more like you when I grow up. From cats to politics to pandemic medical crises…we’re gonna win this battle against the world!

  Carla, you are my mentor. Your unshakable faith in me is appreciated more than you realize, Bubba.

  And Jami and Andrew…well, you two don’t just know where the bodies are buried—you have the map coordinates. Reality has bitten to a lesser degree with you guys in my life for over two decades. And we’ll always have the Wholey Mackerel.

  There is much love here for everyone that I’ve mentioned, and I adore you guys for sticking with me through my worst and supporting me through my best. You’ve all proven to me that the truest of friendships endure the worst of times. Thank you all for being in my life.

  Chapter One

  The twinkling lights of Manhattan sparkled like diamonds, glittering her awe-struck gaze as the bus rolled along a cliff not far from the Lincoln Tunnel, bringing her nearly eight-hour journey almost to an end. It was a sight that always took her breath away…lured her back…prompted her to dream…convinced her to turn fantasy into reality.

  A slow, tired smile curved on her lips. She was so exhausted, traveling nearly all day from the outskirts of Pittsburgh, but she wanted to bask in the city’s splendor unveiled before her and soak up the brilliance before she immersed herself in her new daily routine.

  At long last, Maxine Kirk had finally arrived home.

  At that moment, the world was hers for the taking, but she'd set her standards so very low to avoid disappointment. She'd taken a great risk in just deciding to move away from her beloved father and the familiar life she'd lived for almost twenty-two years. Now the thought of starting all over again brought with it a rush of wonderment, determination and fear.

  However, she had a promise to keep—one to which she’d sworn, literally, in death.

  Maxine pressed her cheek against the cold window of the bus and looked toward the rapidly passing cityscape and found herself throttled back into reality. In minutes, if traffic weren't clogged in post-rush hour/theater congestion in the tunnel, she'd be there, pounding the proverbial pavement again herself.

  Onward, those wheels rolled into the city, and she couldn’t help but to giggle to herself when she spotted the sign embedded into the tiled tunnel wall that marked the dividing line between New York and New Jersey. Trucking on through, she was thrilled, for once in her life, that the driver hadn’t bothered to abide the speed limit. After enduring her fair share of heartache over the last fifteen months, she truly hoped that a light would be shining brightly at the end.

  As the bus hauled into the Port Authority, snaking up the ramps and winding through the garage toward her gate, she forced herself to forget about all of her collective sadness and reservations for just a little while. There was happiness to be had, and she intended to find it, embrace it…and never let it go.

  With a jerk, the bus pulled into its long slot, and, stuck in the back, Maxine waited ever so impatiently for the slovenly, tired passengers in front of her to make their exits. She, too, was exhausted but found her second wind almost instantaneously. Peering through the tinted windows, she couldn't see inside the terminal, but she knew Ben would be waiting—with bells on, he'd assured her.

  As she stepped ever carefully down those narrow, steep steps, that familiar smell of diesel and grime and grease that tickled her nose was one she recognized so well and welcomed her back. That filthy bus smell was always Maxine's first reminder that she'd returned to New York—when she'd travel with her mother to see a few shows, when she'd arrived for her internship two summers ago, when she'd visited Ben over spring break one year.

  As she stepped up in line to retrieve her luggage at the side of the coach, a slow flame began to fan over her face with the tingling little noises that her ears caught from behind. Turning quickly, she fell into a fit of hilarity as she watched Ben in his approach, long arms wide open, with two giant jingle bells attached to a red satin sash hanging from his neck.

  “You are a madman!” she bellowed, falling into his wholehearted embrace. “You are crazy! And oh, how I've missed you!”

  Taking a step back, Ben looked down upon his best friend’s pale, porcelain face, accentuated with the most sparkling emerald eyes and framed by her thick auburn hair. Maxine looked as if she’d lost a few pounds, but she was smiling again with genuine enthusiasm. And nothing thrilled him more.

  “I shall have you to know, Captain Kirk,” Ben began, “that I had to dig through crates—crates—of Amanda Worthington’s Christmas decorations to find these two damn bells.”

  Some things never changed—Ben's rocky relationship with his parents, for instance. Michael and Amanda Worthington, also known as Mike and Mandy in the privacy of Ben's friendship with Maxine, were none too thrilled when their only child decided to step out of the closet right in the middle of his junior year of high school. Since then, their familial connection with each other had been stilted at best, but Ben now took their barbs against his sexuality with a grain of salt.

  Things were pleasant as long as they wavered from any discussions on whom he might be dating. But Ben liked himself, and more importantly, he respected himself far too much to allow their criticisms to destroy him. And it was Maxine's mother who taught him that thinking. How he missed her so much that his heart hurt when he thought of her.

  However, they had plenty of time to talk and reminisce and dish on Mike and Mandy. Ben had a huge problem on his hands that moment in the t
wo huge suitcases that housed his best friend’s entire life inside them.

  “I’ll get one. You get the other…” she suggested.

  Maxine was maybe five-feet-one, and that was when she stretched out on a concrete floor with her toes pointed. There was no way she could possibly struggle with that suitcase. The thought was quite ridiculous to him, but he knew her dad had helped her on the other end. However, this was the Port Authority—not the airport where they could readily find a luggage cart or a porter to assist them in hauling this stuff to a cab. One thing she loved about Ben most, though, was that he was as chivalrous as he was gay, often to his own detriment, and Maxine could already see the wheels spinning in his panicked mind.

  “You can’t…” he just finally said. “You just…can’t…”

  Oh, he dared to utter the forbidden c-word, and she’d only accept that from Ben. Negating to Maxine only left her with a furious desire to carry on, despite any obvious roadblocks in the way.

  “I can,” she insisted, handing him the stuffed weekend bag she’d slung over her shoulder. “If you just take this one…along with the second suitcase….”

  That sense of almost woeful willpower always left him dazed. If anyone could conquer the world in a day, it would be she.

  Slogging along behind her, Ben watched as she rolled that suitcase that was nearly as big as she was through the swinging door and into the terminal. All the while, he waited for the wheels to bulldoze her over, flattening her on the dirty, concrete floor of the bus terminal. But nope! She managed to arrive safely at the elevator that would take them down to street level.

  “Ahhh…the urine-saturated elevators of New York…” she sighed mockingly as Ben squeezed out the hand sanitizer she’d attached on the strap of her carry-on. “How I’ve missed them.”

  “Don't go all tourist on me, Max,” Ben warned, his hazel gaze narrowing. Naturally, his eyes were a light, greenish brown. However, the shade often changed with his contacts. Some days, he was in the mood for baby blues; other days, he preferred to match Maxine's emerald green eyes. And once in a while, when he felt particularly ballsy, he loved to flaunt them au naturel behind a pair of thick, black lacquer framed glasses.

  Ben was a native New Yorker in every sense of the word. He was sassy and savvy, and had the smart looks, wit and fashion sense to survive the concrete jungle. Tall, with a sharp jaw and already thinning raven hair that he chose most of the time to shave, he was born into money, of sorts. While his ancestors came from great wealth back in England, that pot had dwindled over decades in New York. Although the stock market crash of the eighties left them nearly penniless, his father managed to build a small but successful luxury real estate business over the years, affording Ben a cushioned, if not precious little life. However, Ben was never content with the norm, and decided to break out in his own dashing manner.

  By chance, Ben met Maxine in a required biology class their first semester at college. At the time, he wanted nothing more than to flee the city and his family's sense of old money values. Much to Mike and Mandy's dismay, Ben opted for a small state college dubbed “Harvard on the Mon” for its perch right above the Monongahela River that passed throughout southwestern Pennsylvania. He'd chosen the school for its rather highly regarded education degree, but switched to school counseling in his sophomore year. With one stoplight and three bars, the town had very little to offer, but together with Maxine, they'd made the most of their four years there.

  When Ben made the decision to reveal his sexuality, he'd been gifted with the opportunity to attend the first gay and lesbian high school in New York City. Although his parents argued him every step of the way, Ben's experience at this new school was magical. He blossomed, coming into his own at long last, all the while exploring a side of himself that he'd hidden for years. Furthermore, his life suddenly found a purpose. He'd decided that he wanted to give back and teach gay youth as his chosen vocation. No one was happier for him than Maxine when he'd been offered a position as a guidance counselor there at the start of this brand-new school year.

  That bond of happenstance between Ben and Maxine grew as their four years of university life continued. Part of his charm, for Maxine, was the fact that he was gay. She was a short, chubby kid from a backwater town who looked so far beyond her little world. Maybe too far, as her father had warned her upon occasion. Ben, in turn, was just thrilled to meet someone who had actually been to New York in that small and sleepy college town, let alone someone who wanted to move there!

  Initially, they'd bonded over Broadway musicals and Lady Gaga as they met for breakfast at the campus dining hall every morning before they strolled to class together. But a deeper friendship began to grow, and by the end of their first semester, Maxine had become Hag to Ben's Fag. And they were inseparable.

  Upon graduation, Ben knew it was time to return to New York for good. He’d had enough of small-town life, but he was so grateful to have met his best friend along his journey. While Maxine wanted nothing more than to run off to the city alongside him, she had obligations at home to tend. She just couldn’t leave her dad—not so soon in the wake of her mother’s death. Fifteen months had passed since Judy Kirk succumbed to brain cancer, and both father and daughter continued to grieve in their own ways.

  However, as the months passed, Thomas Kirk knew that his daughter would never be happy unless she pursued her true dream. While he understood Maxine's motivation in putting off her career just to stick around to support him, she was so very young with so much life of her own to live. Furthermore, she'd made a promise to her mother in the hospital. Regardless of whatever happened, she'd go to New York immediately after commencement, and she'd build a life there. Although her father insisted that she go, she refused to leave him and found a job close to home to keep her occupied while she figured out that thing called life.

  She'd spent part of the summer working the copy desk at the struggling local newspaper. She barely made enough to afford the gas in her mother's old Ford Focus. Maxine's procrastination, though, was shot down when she'd received an e-mail from the public relations agency in Manhattan where she'd completed her internship. She'd spent the summer with Ben while working for a company that specialized in the promotion of theater and the performing arts. Looking back now, she was just so thrilled that her mother was still alive to appreciate one of her career successes before she passed.

  However, no one harbored greater shock than Maxine herself when they'd asked her to return in a full-time capacity as a junior publicist. Since her departure, she'd kept in touch with everyone at Dawson & Donahue, but she never imagined that they'd offer her a job. In truth, she worked hard, wrote well and was great on the telephone. The account directors loved her so much that they often argued over whose clients she would service.

  While Maxine put up a fight, Tom silenced his daughter with a hug and an order to start packing her bags. Her mother had specifically left her money from her life insurance policy so that she could move to the city they both loved so much. And Tom wasn't about to allow his only child to let that opportunity pass her by—regardless of his apprehensions.

  “You know this city,” Ben said as they struggled out the front doors onto Eighth Avenue where the taxi line formed. “Play it like a Native, kiddo…”

  Across the street, The New York Times offices stood so tall above her. At one point, she’d dreamed of working there, but decided after her summer stint at D & D that she much preferred public relations to the daily grind of journalism. There were events to plan and parties to attend, and she could still indulge in her love of writing. Something new seemed to fall upon her desk every day throughout her internship, and she loved the chaos that a job in publicity often carried. She didn’t want to live her life thinking that she was only as good as her last story. With the added bonus of indulging in the theater, D & D was the perfect place for her to begin her career.

  “I missed you so much, Max!” Ben said and took a step back to look at his travel
-weary friend. “Let’s get you back to Casa Worthington.”

  Maxine reached for his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your kindness, Ben,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

  “C’mawn, Captain,” he said, shrugging his shoulder toward the open car door as he dragged Maxine’s huge suitcases to the trunk of the taxi. “Hop in! Your chariot awaits…”

  Naturally, as Ben followed behind her, he pressed his thumb against the power of that damn little noisy television that played in the back of every yellow cab. Who, he wondered, wanted to watch television when in a hurry to get where they were going?

  Meanwhile, Maxine clung to the door with her nose pressed against the window as the car cruised from Hell's Kitchen uptown, before crossing through Central Park from the Upper West Side to the East. From her first visit with her mother when she was around ten, Maxine simply couldn't get enough of New York—the noise, the grime, the various scents of food and exhaust and a million other emissions mingling in the air. Not one of her senses ever felt ignored as she walked down the streets. There was always music playing, even if it was just a car stereo or some spectacle playing out. Much to Ben's chagrin, she even found the Naked Cowboy strumming his guitar in his tight, white skivvies in the middle of Times Square amusing.

  “Poppa Kirk has called me about six times in the last three hours,” Ben said, his voice teasing. “He wanted to make sure that I didn’t forget to pick you up.”

  “Well, you did forget that one time…” Maxine reminded him. “And you left me stranded out in front of the library in the middle of a blizzard because you were too, ahem, busy to answer your phone.”

  “Oh, God, was he cute, though,” Ben groaned, smiling at his reminiscence.

  “You don’t even remember his name, do you?” she pressed.