The Platinum Rebound Read online

  The Platinum Rebound

  ISBN 978-0-9962825-3-6

  Copyright © 2015 by T V Hartwell Second Edition

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or distribute this book or portions thereof in any form or fashion whatsoever.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, situations, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  *The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations and is intended for adult readers.

  The Platinum Series

  Book One

  The Platinum Triangle

  Book Two

  The Platinum Rebound

  Book Three

  The Platinum Reunion

  The Platinum Rebound

  Book Two

  The Platinum Series

  * * *

  Chapter One

  He had walked away with nothing; nothing other than his name, a tarnished image, and a broken heart. As Jake sat alone staring out over the endless, turquoise blue waters of the Pacific, he pondered the decision he’d made when Rick Climent offered him five million dollars two weeks before. He replayed the fateful scene in his head over and over again.

  “Five million? So you think that’s all this is worth?” Jake had said, incredulous.

  Rick and Mike quickly glanced at each other with perplexed expressions on their faces. Rick was more than capable of offering Jake more, but he hadn’t expected Jake to play hardball.

  “Do you have another number in mind?” Rick asked Jake cautiously.

  “Honestly, Rick, I don’t want your money, and I don’t need to be paid off. I love Amanda more than anything in this world and no amount of money would ever take away the pain of losing her like this. But if walking away is what I have to do to save her life, then that’s what I’ll do, I guess.” Jake spoke softly, sounding defeated as he stared blankly down at the ground. He was still in shock, how was it possible their love was endangering Amanda’s life? He’d never even suspected she had split personality disorder, never seen the slightest sign.

  Mike looked on stunned, but also proud—as if Jake were his own son. He was proud of Jake’s character and of the way he was handling himself with such unselfish disregard for his own needs and well-being. He knew that Jake was being sincere, but probably too overwhelmed with grief, shock, and disbelief to fully comprehend the choice he was making by refusing Rick’s offer.

  “Jake,” Mike said, lawyer to lawyer, “I know that this is a lot for you to digest right now. And indeed money does not take away the pain of losing someone you love, but it’s important for you to understand that you’re being asked to take the fall for a situation that was not of your own making. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to receive some form of compensation for it. It certainly wouldn’t in any way diminish the honorableness and purity of your intentions.”

  “It just doesn’t feel right to me, Mike. I’m doing this for Amanda, not for myself. I don’t know . . . taking money kind of cheapens the whole situation. Like this is some sort of backroom, quid pro quo business transaction. I just can’t place a dollar value on Amanda like that or on our relationship. She’s priceless. A rare jewel I randomly stumbled upon in class at Stanford six years ago. I’ll never be able to replace her, Mike,” Jake said before choking back tears, trying to remain composed and strong.

  They all sat in silence for a few seconds, as if to absorb the intensity of the moment. Rick took a deep breath before finally saying, “Well, Jake, my offer remains on the table for your consideration, if you change your mind later and decide to take the money. The most important thing right now is Amanda, and I’m so glad we’re on the same page about that. I’m really moved that you care about my daughter so much. What a stand-up guy you are, Jake. I think it’s safe to say that Amanda will never be able to replace you either.”

  Jake shook his head now, clearing the painful memories. He had flown to Hawaii on Saturday, the day of his cancelled wedding, seeking refuge at his family’s vacation home. The Doyle clan owned a plush Mediterranean style villa in the exclusive Pineapple Hill neighborhood of Kapalua, Maui. No one in the family was using the home because they all had planned to be in LA for Jake and Amanda’s wedding. It seemed the perfect retreat for Jake and, given the stress he was under, the family agreed to allow him to have the place to himself for the week for some much needed respite.

  Other than swimming, surfing, and going for a jog each morning, Jake spent his first few days in Maui mostly lying on the beach—intermittently napping, sunning, people watching, and reading the latest John Grisham novel. Jake momentarily thought to himself that he could’ve followed in Grisham’s footsteps, gone from lawyer to writer had he accepted Rick’s financial offer. Jake figured a writer’s life would be pretty enviable, especially when it could be done in a locale like Maui with a fat bank account to keep himself afloat. But his legal career was just getting off the ground; he liked what he did and the people he worked with. Jake was too young for the eremitic, solitary life of a writer and it probably would get old fast, he concluded. Beyond that, the idea of being paid off still didn’t sit well with him. The very contemplation of it, the imagining of a life lived and subsidized as a result of hurting someone he still deeply loved, made him feel dirty. So he did his best to push Rick’s offer out of his mind. He had plenty of money, a job he loved, and his family and friends; he didn’t need Rick Climent’s blood money.

  But if Jake had known about the maelstrom of speculation and gossip building in LA, he might’ve felt differently about a hermit’s life. Everyone who was anyone wanted to know his reasons for calling off not only the wedding but his entire relationship with Amanda. Even his closest friends, including Will and the others guys who were to be his groomsmen, had been completely caught off guard and were dumbfounded by his decision—and they’d told him so. Like others who knew Jake and Amanda well, they all felt, in fact knew, that Jake was completely smitten and in love with Amanda and had been for a long time. Since meeting six years before, at the beginning of their junior year at Stanford, Jake had not seriously dated anyone but Amanda. Even during the year-long breakup that had preceded their engagement, Jake had told his closest buddies that he eventually planned to get back with Amanda and had no intentions of getting tied up with anyone else in the meantime. However, among Jake’s friends, there was one who suspected that Jake’s relationship with Amanda was on shaky ground and that things were more precarious than they appeared to be on the surface. That person was the friend who knew Jake the longest, knew him best, and knew him most intimately in every way imaginable—Charles Kirby Smith, Jr.

  When Jake told Kirby that he’d called off the wedding, Kirby didn’t seem terribly surprised. In fact, Kirby had struggled to contain his joy at the news. Jake sensed Kirby’s restrained happiness and glee beneath a veneer of sympathetic concern, which caused Jake to underscore to him the point that the breakup wasn’t for the reason Kirby likely suspected. He didn’t want Kirby to think that his emotional pleas about choosing him over Amanda had paid off. When Kirby didn’t press him for more of an explanation, Jake felt relieved. He also appreciated that Kirby had given him some space and didn’t hover over him, acting needy.

  When Jake had decided to head off to Hawaii for a week, Kirby had offered to accompany him. He told Jake that he felt genuinely concerned for him and that he didn’t like the idea of him traveling by himself while he was so emotionally distraught and despondent about his breakup with Amanda. At first Jake politely objected to having anyone come along with him, but Kirby gen
tly persisted, telling him that he probably would hate not having anyone to talk to and help him take his mind off his troubles. Even Jake’s parents had suggested to him that it might be a good idea to have a friend or two join him. After all, their large, five-bedroom house—which sat on the lush, green fairway of the Kapalua Golf Course, with sweeping ocean views and an easy jaunt to the white sand beaches—was intended to be enjoyed with family and friends and would likely feel empty and lonely without some company, they insisted.

  Jake eventually conceded and right before he’d left, they arranged to have Kirby arrive by midweek and remain with him until they flew back to LA together the following Sunday morning. Even though he’d finally acquiesced to having Kirby come, Jake now had mixed feelings about seeing him. On the one hand, Jake was savoring the time he had to himself more than he thought he would. After he’d settled in, being alone in a big, luxury house in Maui wasn’t so bad after all, Jake decided. He could’ve done worse, a lot worse. Plus, it provided a rare opportunity for solitude where he could completely turn off the noise of his life and not have to focus on the needs, emotions, desires, or demands of anyone other than himself for a change, even if it was only for a week. At the same time, however, the idea of cavorting with his best pal in Maui filled him with excitement too—it might just be what the doctor ordered to get him out of his funk.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  After Amanda received her double whammy of news within a few days’ time—her fiancé dumping her and calling off their wedding at the eleventh hour and then the diagnosis of her impregnation by said ex-fiancé—the so-called five stages of grief were in full force. The sequence is supposed to be, first, denial and then anger, followed by bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. But Amanda skipped steps two and three and jumped straight from feelings of denial, right after Jake broke up with her, to severe depression. She was too distraught and still too emotionally fragile and wounded to feel anger. That emotion required more energy than Amanda had to give. She simply preferred to remain in bed, under the covers, and detached from the rest of the world so that she could bury herself in sorrow and grieve alone. Jake had been her everything. Her ride or die. Since high school, she had wanted more than anything else to find her prince charming, to have and raise children of her own, and live happily ever after. Yes, she wanted a career too and looked forward to building a fashion empire with Lucy, but that dream came later and had always remained a secondary priority. Jake represented her promise. The promise of a family life that had eluded her during her childhood and that spilled over into adulthood. Her parents were kind people, but somewhat detached. They provided every material want, but were less available in terms of emotional connection and support. Amanda had wanted things to be different for her own family and Jake swore he wanted that too. The promise Jake represented was now irretrievably broken in her mind. She felt ruined.

  Other than exchanging very abbreviated text messages and short phone conversations with her sister, Alex, and her parents, Amanda wasn’t returning calls, receiving visitors, or even accepting the overtures of her dearest friends, including Lucy and Charlie. Since Amanda had collapsed at her bridal shower a little more than a week before, she had only spoken to Lucy once over the phone. They exchanged text messages a few times afterward. Lucy had tried to see Amanda and get her out of the house. Since the bachelorette party that she had so carefully planned didn’t take place, Lucy decided to offer herself up for the pity party instead, to be a shoulder to cry on, to be the joker with whom to have a laugh—whatever it took to provide some cheer and consolation to her sister-friend. But their last text exchange before Lucy headed back to New York was telling.

  Lucy: Hi Mandi!! Hope ur feelin a lil better and lettin the sunshine in 2day. Have to go back to NY tomorrow. Fashion Week is upon us. Eek! Would luv to see u. Wine? Beach house? Malibu?

  Amanda (almost an hour later): Have a safe trip back. Sorry for all the trouble I put you thru.

  Lucy: Trouble? Not at all. Mandi, please let me see you. I’m worried about you. I don’t want to leave without seeing you.

  Amanda: There’s nothing to see. I’m nothing. Just shit shit shit shit shit shit

  Lucy: Amanda Climent, you are NOT shit! You are smart and gorgeous. Amazing personified. You’ll get thru this. Now I’m coming to get u in 45 min. Meet me downstairs. We’re going to The Bu for the day.

  Amanda: I can’t. I luv you. Thanks for everything.

  Lucy texted Amanda again, but not before Amanda turned off her phone and went back to bed. It was Sunday. The day after her cancelled wedding. By now she was supposed to be on a private plane to the South of France for the dream honeymoon of a lifetime, sailing the Mediterranean on her family’s fifty-million-dollar yacht, Eternity. Instead she was still at home, confined to her tearstained bed, newly single, newly pregnant, and too ashamed to tell anyone other than her parents.

  Her parents became so concerned about her that they tried to persuade Amanda to come stay at home where they could keep an eye on her and she could be waited on and pampered by their household staff. However, Amanda had refused, choosing to remain cocooned in her condo at Sierra Towers. When Amanda stopped answering her phone and replying to messages, her mother eventually went over to Amanda’s place and let herself in. Camilla had her own set of key cards to access the celebrity filled, high security condo tower. After all, she and Rick technically owned the condo jointly with their daughter. They always felt safe putting money in real estate and the condo represented yet another addition to their extensive collection of luxury properties around the world.

  Amanda, sitting up in her bed, stared at the TV blankly as Rachael Ray served up her latest culinary concoction to her studio audience. Amanda really wasn’t paying much attention to the show and jumped when she suddenly heard her mother call out her name from the living room.

  “Mom?” Amanda replied cautiously with a frown. “Is that you, Mom?”

  “Yes, darling. I came to check on you.”

  Amanda threw her hands up and slapped them down to the bed, infuriated. “Why didn’t you fucking call,” Amanda said under breath, forgetting that she had not responded to any of her parents’ messages over the last twenty-four hours.

  She could sense that her mother was approaching the open door of her bedroom. “Hold on, I’ll be out in a second,” Amanda said as she threw back the covers to jump out of bed.

  It was now the Wednesday after her cancelled wedding, and Amanda hadn’t showered in three days. She didn’t want her mother to see or smell her in her funk. Camilla had always placed such a high value on her daughters appearing fresh, clean, and spotless, even in slumber. As small girls, Amanda and Alexandra typically wore premium French-silk pajamas to bed, which was usually preceded by a luxurious bubble bath and a small douse of Chanel No. 5 for good measure.

  After all these years, Amanda was still very self-conscious of her appearance in front of her mother. She rushed to head into the bathroom, hearing and feeling Camilla’s presence, but it was too late. Just before Amanda made it to the bathroom entrance, there stood her mother at the bedroom door.

  “Amanda,” Camilla said in a somewhat startled tone. “Honey, look at you,” she continued with a pitiful expression on her face, giving her daughter the once-over.

  There Amanda stood with nothing on other than a rumpled, slightly soiled T-shirt that didn’t extend far enough down to completely cover her privates. Her hair was greasy and disheveled, her face sullen, and her eyes tired and red.

  Amanda slapped her hands to her face to cover it, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. She then put her hands down and glared at Camilla. “Yes, I know how I look,” she said, enraged at this intrusion before stepping into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

  “Amanda, you don’t have to be so hostile. We hadn’t heard from you in over a day and we became a little worried.”

  “I’m fine,” Amanda said as she turned on the faucet to wash
her face.

  Camilla sighed heavily before turning to look at Amanda’s dirty bed. She winced at the sight of it, shaking her head.

  After a quick face wash and teeth brushing, Amanda emerged from the bathroom, now covered in her bathrobe. Camilla had stood there waiting for her.

  “Has Lupe been here to clean your place?” Camilla asked, still preoccupied with the sight of Amanda’s bed.

  “I let her have vacation this week since I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

  “Oh, of course. How are you feeling, darling?” Camilla said, trying to sound sympathetic.

  But Amanda wasn’t buying it. On the verge of tears, she tried to contain herself, but her emotions were still too raw and she couldn’t hold it in. “How do you think I feel? I feel like shit. I’m nothing. A total failure. I know how disappointed you must be. Or perhaps you’re secretly amused to see me humiliated and crushed.”

  “Amandaaa,” Camilla said in exasperation, knowing how wide the gulf was between them. Camilla felt that her daughter could be ungrateful at times and that she didn’t appreciate all that she had done as a mother to make her life full and worldly. The best private schools and tutors; a whole host of lessons such as ballet, tennis, and equestrian; international travel that was entertaining and educational; and the general exposure to the finer things in life in every respect. Amanda, on the other hand, felt that her mother had been too quick and eager to impose her will on her and her sister, attempting to control every aspect of their lives. That ranged from what they wore, where they went to school, what extracurricular activities they did, and who they became friends with to who they dated and would ultimately marry. All while leaving the details of hands-on mothering to others along the way—au pairs, nannies, grandparents, and boarding school headmistresses. On top of that, Amanda felt the older and more independent she grew the more competitive and critical her mother became of her choices. Now that her choice of husband had blown up in her face in such devastating fashion, Amanda didn’t trust her mother’s attempt at sympathy.