Chasing Dreams

chapter three

Ivy felt a sense of Déjà vu sitting across the bald man. She was interviewing for a position as an intern at an ad agency. Ironically, it was in the same building as the office of Style. At least this time she did have a resume. It said in the description no experience required. She thought it might be interesting to come up with ideas for ads.

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed as the interviewer peered at her over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, his gaze sharp but not unkind. Ivy gripped the handles of her bag in her lap, willing her hands not to tremble. She’d rehearsed her talking points the entire subway ride, repeating them in her head until she almost believed them.

“So, Ivy,” the man said, glancing down at her resume, “Why did you leave your other jobs?”

Ivy swallowed the lump in her throat. On instinct she wanted to lie, but she knew he would probably call them to confirm her reasons for leaving. “I was fired,” she confessed, her voice just above a whisper.

“I see,” he said, folding his hands on top of his desk. “We will let you know,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” Ivy said, giving him a small smile, standing up. She knew she would never hear from him.

Stepping onto the elevator Ivy didn’t feel like the world was coming to an end. She had plenty of interviews lined up. The money from the tips she made at the Midnight Lounge would help cover the rent. So, she had a little time to find the perfect job.

The elevator stopped and the door opened. You have got to be kidding me, she groaned to herself. When she saw Vincent stepping onto the elevator. “I’ll call you back,” he said to whoever he was talking to on the phone.

“Ivy,” he breathed, slipping his phone into his pocket.

For a few minutes they just stared at each other, tension filled the small space. Ivy moved as far as she could possibly could from him. Huddling in a corner, folding her arms across her chest, staring down at the floor. If she could have held her breath, she would have. She didn’t even want to breath the same air as him.

“I take it you’re still mad at me,” he said, slipping a hand his black trousers. His eyes never left her.

“You got me fired twice. So—yeah, I’d say that was a given.”

Vincent couldn’t believe he was seeing Ivy again. Ever since that night, she had been all he could think about. He wanted to see her again, he knew he was pushing it asking her this. But he went for it anyway. “Can I take you to dinner?”

“Unbelievable,” Ivy muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief. This guy never gave up. He must really thought he was something to think she would have dinner with him. After he got her fired.

“Ivy.”

“Go to hell!” she yelled, getting off the elevator when the doors opened and some men stepped on.

Luckily, she didn’t have to far to go taking the stairs down to the lobby. On the cab ride back to her apartment, Ivy made a mental note to herself not to interview for jobs in that building.

Ivy was sitting out her fire escape. She was supposed to be searching for jobs. Instead, she was looking at the different offices in the building where she kept running into Vincent. She wanted to know what he did there and how to avoid him.

The name Barron Law Firm caught her attention. She clicked onto it and there he was. He was wearing black version of the suit he wore the first time they met. “I knew he was out of my league,” she said out loud, slamming her laptop down, heat rushing to her cheeks.

She remembered that day in the elevator thinking she could never have a man like that. Even though he was exactly the kind of man she’d dream of having in her life in Chicago. A man sexy, successful the kind of man who could take your breath away the minute he walked in the room.

Curiosity began to take over wondering who Mrs. Carson was. The woman he was with the night she accidentally caught him in the elevator. He said she wasn’t his girlfriend, but Ivy wasn’t so sure that she wasn’t. She quickly opened her laptop back up and found Vincent’s f*******: page.

It didn’t say anything about his love life, it was mostly about his law firm. “Shoot,” Ivy muttered in frustration.

Then she got an idea she started scrolling through any social media post about Barron Law Firm. “Bingo,” she said in triumph when she found a picture of them at a social gathering. “Well,” she said when she saw it say that her father was his biggest client. “He doesn’t mind mixing business with pleasure.”

Finding a few more post of them out at different functions throughout the city gave Ivy a small sense of satisfaction. But something else lingered just below the surface, she couldn’t quite make out what it was. In a way it almost felt like jealousy, but she knew that wasn’t possible. Why would she be jealous of something she could never have.

Ivy lied in bed staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep Vincent Barron was in her head. Remembering the night, she got fired from the Midnight Lounge how when she saw Vincent. Seeing him sitting there in a brown leather jacket, a crisp white shirt underneath, it took her breath away.

“I am not attracted to him,” she stated, taking her pillow and covering her face with it.

“He got you fired, Ivy. Twice.” She kept repeating to herself.

But deep down she hoped that she would see him again.

Vincent was standing in the VIP lounge of the Crimson Tide. The nightclub he owned, it had been open only a few months and it was already the hottest spot in the city. He had no intention of ever opening a club. He was a lawyer at heart. But when the owner an old friend of his said he was selling it and moving to Florida. Vincent saw it as a good investment.

He bought the place last year and it took him that long to renovate it. He wanted to be the kind of club that everyone wanted to come to and that was exactly what it was. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him, looking out towards the already crowded dance floor. It hadn’t been open barely an hour and it was already packed.

Just as he was about to turn and head back to his office. A raven-haired woman caught his attention. He leaned forward onto the railing he wasn’t for certain, but he was almost positive that it was Ivy. A part of him hoped that it was her the other part didn’t like the thought of being here. He didn’t like the idea of someone hitting on her.

She turned towards him when he saw those big, innocent chestnut eyes he knew it was her. Those eyes haunted him every night.

For a moment, he hesitated, caught between the urge to retreat and the inexplicable pull drawing him closer. The music thumped in his chest, the dim lights painting everyone in shifting gold and crimson. But his focus sharpened, the crowd receding into a blur as his gaze fixed on her—on Ivy, who, for all their complicated history, still haunted his thoughts.

He watched as she laughed at something a friend whispered, her eyes bright, posture relaxed in a way he’d never seen when she was working. She was different tonight, less guarded, letting her guard slip for just a second. Vincent wondered if she’d spotted him yet, or if she was deliberately trying to avoid looking his way.

A server passed by with a tray of cocktails, and Vincent took one, convincing himself he was just being hospitable—a good owner, nothing more. But his heart gave him away; it beat out a nervous rhythm as he debated whether to head down and say hello or keep his distance.

He didn’t know what he wanted. Or maybe he did, and that was what unsettled him.

He found himself walking towards her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. The black haltered dress she wore hugged her in all the right places. He stood there for a moment watching her dancing and laughing with some purple haired girl.

She didn’t see him when they headed for the bar. He waited for a few minutes before deciding to follow her. A little voice told him he shouldn’t. He should just go to his office, but knowing she was so close. Vincent couldn’t walk away, he had to talk to her. Even if she yelled at him again.

“Hello, Ivy,” he said when he walked up to the bar.

Ivy couldn’t believe she was at her first nightclub in Chicago. Q, who lived across the hall from her, asked if she wanted to come. Apparently, the Crimson Tide was the hottest club in the city. Ivy had always wanted to go to a club, she didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

“I’m definitely not in Snow’s Corner,” she gasped, walking into the club.

The club was a mix of neon and shadow, a thrum of energy pulsing through every inch of its space. People danced with abandon, some perched on plush velvet couches, others clustered in animated conversations near the glowing bar. The air crackled with possibility—one of those nights that felt ripe with secrets, mistakes, and maybe even a little magic.

Ivy spun on her heel, taking in the mirrored walls, the chandelier fashioned from ruby glass, the DJ haloed by strobes and smoke. Her nerves fizzed with excitement and a touch of anxiety; she clutched her purse and let Q drag her further into the crowd. For a while, she lost herself in the bass, in the anonymity of strangers.

Then, as Q tried to flag down the bartender, Ivy’s gaze drifted—and landed on the dance floor. “Forget the drink,” she said, as the DJ began to play her favorite song. “Let’s dance,” she said. Her body already moving to the music.

Out on the dance floor, Ivy let herself forget that she was employed. That everything was going to work out the way she planned, even though she had no idea what that plan was at the moment. For now, she was going to let herself go, enjoy the moment.

Ivy danced with such abandon, laughing and singing along to the music. She simply let herself be carried away by the energy of the crowd. She and Q laughed at themselves trying to do dance moves they saw on t****k. She even found herself dancing with complete strangers.

“I need a drink,” she finally told Q, stopping to catch her breath. She held onto her side when it started to hurt from dancing and laughing to hard.

“Yeah, me, too,” Q agreed, taking a hold of Ivy’s hand leading her to the bar.

“Damn,” they both said in unison when the very sexy bartender asked them what they wanted to drink.

“We’ll both have the Desert Oasis,” Q said, doing her best to flirt.

“What’s a Desert Oasis?” Ivy asked. She had never heard of such a drink.

“You’ll see,” Q said, grinning from ear to ear.

The bartender set in front of Ivy one of the prettiest drinks she had ever seen. It looked like the sun setting in the desert. “Wow,” Ivy said, taking a sip of the delicious concoction. “This is amazing.”

“Damn,” Q said, taking a sip of her own drink. “That is good.”

“Have you had this before?” Ivy said, the look of pure bliss on Q’s face made her wonder if this was her first time trying it.

“Yeah. My photographer told me about it,” she confessed.

“You’re photographer?” she asked, realizing she didn’t know what she did. They only spoke in the hallway of their building and sometimes in the laundry room in the basement of the building.

“I’m a blogger,” Q said. Her face full of pride.

“What is your blog?” Ivy asked. She wondered if she had seen it. She did like to check out different blogs.

“Fashion 101 by Q.”

“I read that all the time!” Ivy exclaimed with excitement. That was her favorite fashion blog. “I get all my fashion tips from you.”

“Thanks,” Q said. Her cheeks getting flushed. “I’m glad you like it. It is my passion.”

“You can tell,” Ivy complemented her. Ivy could see that Q put a lot of pride into her blog.

“What about you? Where do you work?” she asked.

“At the moment. I am currently unemployed,” Ivy confessed, taking another sip of her drink.

“What have you done since being in Chicago?” she asked. She could tell by the way she talked she wasn’t a city girl.

“I worked for one night at Divine Catering. Then I worked for few weeks at the Midnight Lounge.”

Q almost choked on her drink when she asked, “You worked at the Midnight Lounge?”

“Yep.”

“Why did you quit?”

“I didn’t quit,” Ivy stated. “I got fired because of some big-time lawyer Vincent Barron.”

“You know Vincent Barron?” Q asked her voice full of surprise, curious how she knew a man like him.

Ivy was about to ask how she knew who Vincent was when she heard that all too familiar voice. “Hello, Ivy.”

“Well at least this time I’m not working. So---there is no chance of getting fire,” she stated without even acknowledging his presence, getting up from the barstool heading for the ladies room.

On her way to the ladies room to try and pull herself together, hearing Vincent’s butterflies were doing somersaults in her stomach. Someone grabbed her from behind throwing her against the wall. “Arnie,” gasped in surprise when she it was the guy from the Midnight Lounge. “W…What do you want?” she asked her voice trembling, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Why you darlin’,” his words slurring. His breath reeking of alcohol. He placed his palms on either side of her head flat against the wall, pinning her against it with his body. “This time---I’m going to get exactly what I want,” he muttered. His lips kissing where her breast were peeking out of her dress.

“Don’t,” Ivy protested. She managed to shove him off her just enough so she could knee him in the groin.

The minute he dropped to his knees she ran back towards the bar, bumping into Vincent himself. “Vincent,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “He tried to…,” she said. Her voice trembling burying her face into his neck, glad that he had followed her.

“Who, Ivy?” Vincent asked, gripping her shoulders tighter than he should, pulling her back so he could see her face. The minute he saw pure fear in her eyes he lost it. An anger he never felt before began to take over his entire being.

“Him,” she said, pointing to Arnie, who was now approaching the pure hate now written on his face. “Hold me,” she begged, her voice trembling, burying her face in his chest.

“Bones!” Vinent yelled, his jaw clenching. “Take Ivy to my office now,” he told his long-time driver and friend, who was also his bouncer for the club. “I will handle this myself.”

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the man by the back of his shirt dragging him towards the alley. He was going to teach him no one lays a hand on Ivy.

“What’s Vincent going to do to him?” Ivy asked the Reacher sized man as she followed him up to Vincent’s office. She had never seen him look that way before.

“Don’t worry, Miss Ivy,” he reassured her. “Boss will handle things,” shutting the door behind him.

“That was my girl,” Vincent said through clenched teeth, shoving the man up against the brick wall. His punch landing across the drunk man’s face. “No one puts a hand on her,” he growled. The other punch landing on his nose. Vincent heard the bone breaking when his fist made contact with it.

Thinking of what could have happened if he hadn’t followed her fueled the rage inside. As usual when it came to Ivy Vincent didn’t think, he just kept punching his face until it was a bloody mess. He finally stopped when Bones grabbed him pulling him off the man.

“Get him out of here,” he told Bones. His breath coming out in short pants. “Damn,” he cursed when he saw his bloody hands.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Bones asked, returning from getting rid of the guy his boss almost killed. He had known him for a long time, and he had never seen him act that for any woman.

“I don’t know, Bones,” Vincent confessed, trying to calm the rage inside before going to see Ivy. “I don’t know what it is about her. I can’t think straight.”

“Thinking of what could have happen---I lost it,” he said, looking up at his office window where Ivy was. “How is she?”

“Scared,” Bones said.

Vincent half expected to find Ivy scared when he walked into his office. Instead, he found her standing there with her arms folded across her chest. “I thought you were a lawyer?” she asked when he shut the door behind him.

Vincent couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He was curious to know how she knew what he did. That never came up in their conversations. “Now how would you know that?” he asked satisfaction evident in his voice.

“I..I might have Googled you,” Ivy whispered, looking down at the floor.

“Did you now,” Vincent said. He couldn’t help the satisfying grin on his face. “Why were you Googling me, Ivy?”

“You don’t have to be so smug about,” Ivy said, turning her back to him. While she waiting on him to return she realized what he had about taking her to his office. She was so scared she didn’t think about what he meant.

“Why, Ivy?” He wasn’t letting this go not until she confessed that she had been thinking about him too.

“It’s not because I was thinking about you. If that was what you were fishing for,” she told him. “I was just to know about the man who kept getting me fired. That’s all.” She started to say something else when she finally got sight of the blood on his hands. “Vincent,” she gasped, walking towards him taking his bloody hands into hers.

“It’s not mine,” he said, forgetting that his hands were still covered in blood. “Hey,” he whispered, seeing all the color drain from her face. “Ivy!” he shouted when she bolted for the door.