CHAPTER 14
May 11, 2012 7:51 AM
Come by here 11:30. Gretch meeting us @ shop.
May 11, 2012 8:02 AM
K see you soon
I put my phone away and gave the next two hours my full attention so I wouldn’t feel bad about taking a long lunch with Lucy. When ten o’clock hit, I hopped in a cab downtown to meet with one of our top bachelors, taking extra care to review the file this time. I scrunched my nose, trying to remember if we had profiled a freelance photographer the year before.
Brian Ayers swung the door open with enthusiasm and greeted me with a big hug. “What is that scent, it reminds me of Paris!”
“I’m not wearing anything,” I said, giggling shamelessly. “I’m Olivia Germaine, associate editor for Chicago M.”
“Hang on, now, you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” I knew his face as well, and I squinted at him while trying to place it. “Eureka.”
“Eureka?” I repeated. “Oh - with the dog! That was you?”
“Yes,” he said. He broke into a sudden, boisterous laugh. “Sorry, I was just picturing the way that dog took you down.”
I grimaced. “So much for a first impression.”
“Darling, that was the most endearing first impression anyone’s ever made in the history of the world. If you weren’t married,” he said, motioning at my ring, “it’d be a damn fine beginning to our own romantic comedy.”
“Leashed by Love, starring,” I studied him for a moment. “Paul Walker. In a suit.”
“Paul Walker?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “And his lovely co-star . . . Well, now, I can’t think of a good comparison. Have a seat, I’ll get us a drink.”
“That’s not necessary, Mr. Ayers.”
“Please, call me Brian.”
I glanced around his sunny apartment, admiring the large framed photographs. Gritty portraits, backdropped by Chicago’s streets, lined the walls. “You have a lovely collection here, Brian.”
“Why, thanks Olivia, that means a lot.” He handed me a glass of white wine and set a platter of cheese and olives on the coffee table.
“I really shouldn’t,” I said with a small smile.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be our secret. ” With a wink, he brushed his hands over his charcoal slim-fit suit that was punctuated with a striped, knit skinny tie. He sat across from me and rested his ankle on the opposite knee, exposing grey and white polka dot socks.
“Well, I can see why everyone says you’re so charming. It’s because you’re serving them wine right off the bat,” I teased. I took a sip from the glass, glad I’d changed my mind at the last minute about bringing Serena.
He ran a hand through his blond shoulder-length hair, a look I normally despised, but which he pulled off very well. “It’s my little secret. But that’s off the record, I wouldn’t want anyone else catching on.”
“Check,” I said, pulling out my notepad. “Before I forget, we’re having a Meet & Greet for the participants in the article next week. I will have Serena forward you the invite.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ve thought of someone. Lauren Bacall.”
“Sorry?”
“The voice, definitely. That’s who I’m casting you as, a young Lauren Bacall.”
“I will take that as a high compliment. I haven’t heard that before.”
“I see it more in your mannerisms but you do resemble her . . . . You know, you have wonderful bone structure. Such cheekbones. And your eyes! So sentient! Perhaps I can photograph you sometime.”
“Perhaps,” I intoned, knowing full well that would never happen. “So Brian Ayers, tell me – how long have you been in Chicago?”
~
Lucy’s receptionist told me she was with a client, but that I should go in anyway. I headed down the hall and knocked before poking my head in the room.
“Come in,” Lucy said. I started when I saw her on her knees before David Dylan, fingering the hem of his pants.
“Hey Liv,” she managed with a pin between her teeth. David’s head jerked up, and his face looked as shocked as I felt.
“Hi Luce.”
“Liv,” she said, removing the pin and sticking it into the hem. “You remember David Dylan.”
“Yes, actually,” I cleared my throat. “David here is going to be one of our Most Eligible bachelors next month.”
Lucy beamed. “Really? Did you know, David? How wonderful!”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I met with Olivia earlier this week, in fact.” I gave him a quick nod, letting him know it was okay to say.
“You’re going to be great,” she said to him. “And you’ll look top-notch,” she added, tugging on the fabric. “Liv, we’re running a little behind. Do you mind? We’re going to a bridesmaid dress fitting after we get something to eat, David,” Lucy explained, glancing up at him. “You should come. To lunch, not to the fitting.” She giggled. “I’ll be right back, I need more pins. You know, on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t eat before a dress fitting. Do you think that matters? Should we eat after?”
“Aw, Luce, I skipped breakfast, and I’m famished.”
“Never mind, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll just be a minute.” She rushed from the room, leaving us in complete silence.
“I’m surprised to see you,” he said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Interesting choice of outfit,” he commented, scanning my body.
I made a small noise, startled. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” I followed his eyes and looked down at my fitted black dress. A snakeskin belt cinched my waist, accentuating my slight curves. The neckline scooped flirtatiously, revealing a small glimpse of cleavage. I was wearing higher-than-usual pumps, but they matched the belt, so that was unavoidable. With the four inch boost, I figured my lips would probably come right up to his neck, or maybe just past, to his chin . . . .
“If you expect me to behave, don’t wear things like that,” he said with a tense jaw.
“Noted. Mr. Beman says I must adhere to your every request,” I added.
His eyebrow shot up. “Every request?” My eyes darted downward as I succumbed to a fierce blush.
“So. What do you think?” he asked. I was thankful for the free pass until I looked up to find him looking severe and powerful in a trim, slate-colored suit. He held his arms open, waiting for my answer. Within the second, I had leapt into them, covering his face with kisses, lingering on the soft spots and relishing the coarse ones. I pressed my willing self against his hard body, locking those snakeskins around his lower back so we were perfectly aligned . . . . I blinked, forcing myself from the fantasy.
“It’s nice.” I squeaked, desperately trying to bridle the heat rising from my loins. My eyes darted around the room for a reprieve until I spotted a rolling rack that held four crisp suits. “Are these for you?”
“Seems that way. Lucy is creative, I like that. Not afraid to take a risk.”
“A three-piece suit?” I asked, tugging at the jacket’s lapel. “Creative, indeed.” I tried picturing Bill in one and almost laughed out loud at the image.
“She said women find it sexy.”
“Did she now?” I asked, fighting off a smile.
Lucy burst back into the room and practically pushed David into the fitting room with the next suit. I sat back against the edge of her desk, nervously fingering my earlobe as she bustled around me. I pictured his long limbs behind the door, shedding one suit for the next, his defined muscles straining against the fabric. I closed my eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Get it under control, I ordered myself. This is ridiculous.
“What do you feel like?” Lucy asked.
“What?”
“For lunch? Where should we eat?” She lowered her voice. “Do you mind that I invited him?”
I opened my mouth to answer.
“I was not wrong about you, Lucy,” David said as he reentered the room. “I never would have chosen a three-piece suit for myself, but it’s something new.”
I gulped.
“You look positively dashing,” Lucy replied in a mock British accent, flattening the tie into the vest. He straightened his shoulders in the mirror and tugged on the sleeves. My mouth went dry as I watched, and our back-and-forth from lunch filtered through my head. Standing tall in the urbane suit, he looked every bit the refined gentleman. And gentleman becomes him, I thought.
When Lucy was occupied pinning again, I glanced at the black American Express, which sat beside me on Lucy’s desk next to his other personal effects, and then peered slyly at the price tag of one of the suits. Almost three thousand dollars. Holy . . . Exactly how much do architects make? The desk vibrated under my thighs. David’s phone lit up, and the name ‘Brittany’ bannered across the screen. He didn’t make any effort to move or see who was calling, so I didn’t mention it. Brittany, I thought snidely. Doesn’t exactly sound like work.
“I brought snacks.” I heard the cheery voice of Lucy’s receptionist before she entered. “Goldfish, apples, croissants . . . ,” she nodded, naming each thing on the tray. With a goofy smile plastered on her face, she set it on the coffee table and turned to David. When he remained silent, she cleared her throat nervously. “Um,” she started. “Is this all right? Did you want, maybe, something else?” she asked his reflection.
“I can’t move,” he said, nodding his head toward Lucy.
“Oh, right,” she nodded enthusiastically, picking the tray up again.
“No, no – I’ll get something later,” he said quickly as she started toward him. I stifled a giggle and wondered if women were always this uneasy around him.
“Right,” she said, setting it down. “Well, if you need anything - ”
“I’ll take an apple,” I interjected.
“Sure Liv, go for it.” She motioned toward the tray as she left. David made no attempt to hide his grin, but an awkward silence fell over the room in her wake.
“So Liv, how’s the article?” Lucy asked. “She’s up for a promotion if it goes well, David. Do you think you’ll get it? Are you nervous?” I was, in fact, very nervous, but I did my best to act casual.
“I’m optimistic,” I said.
“It’s my favorite time of year,” Lucy gushed, looking up at David. “Liv gets to work with all these hot guys, and I get to live vicariously through her. Don’t tell Andrew,” she added, reddening with a giggle.
“And women,” I inserted. David looked disapproving as he stared ahead.
“Oh, who cares about them? Who else are you interviewing?”
“Actually, I just got back from meeting with this freelance photographer at his apartment.”
“Hold still, David, or I might accidentally stab you!”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“His name is Brian Ayers, really interesting guy, beguiling actually. Don’t tell, but he fed me wine and cheese.”
“Liv, while you’re working?” Lucy scolded. I widened my eyes at her playfully and nodded.
“Brian Ayers?” David repeated, looking at me finally.
“Yes, do you know him?”
“For a long time. We run in the same circle.” I thought I detected a hint of a growl, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Well what do you think, David? Would he make a good Bachelor?” Lucy asked.
His nostrils flared, but Lucy couldn’t see since she was working intently on the hem of his blazer. “He’s a good guy,” he said with reluctance. “I suppose some women might find him attractive.”
“Liv?”
I pondered as I compared our first meeting on the Trail with the interview we’d just had. “Yes, he is. He looks like a distinguished beach bum if that makes sense. Like, I could see him hitting the waves before a board meeting. But he doesn’t have board meetings, because he’s a photographer. I don’t really know how to pin him down, which is why he’ll be great for the article. He’ll appeal to different demographics.”
“Distinguished beach bum,” David snorted. “Maybe that should be his headline.”
“David, let me ask you a couple questions while I work,” Lucy said. “Liv, will you grab the clipboard from my desk and take notes?”
“Oh, now you’re putting me to work?” I joked as I located it.
“We’re almost done.” She looked at me apologetically. If she only knew, I thought. I could sit and watch this all day.
“Aside from work and the occasional event - ”
“Frequent. I have events weekly.”
“Right, frequent events, what other wardrobe needs do you have?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you mentioned that you’re a swimmer. What are your other hobbies?” she asked.
“I don’t have much free time,” he stated. “Right now Arnaud and I are flipping a house in Evanston, but for that I just wear a t-shirt and jeans.”
My mouth twitched and I looked away, embarrassed. Jesus, was he trying to give me a heart attack? Between gentleman, swimmer and construction worker he was hitting all the right triggers. “Well, do you need trunks? For swimming?” I asked, trying to be helpful.
He glanced at me in the reflection and a smirk twisted his mouth. “No, I’m all set.”
Not understanding what was funny, I smirked right back. He’s trying to make me uncomfortable, I figured. But two can play at that game. “How about undergarments? Boxers? Briefs?”
He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. How about you?”
“I’m good,” I said, fighting the blush that was creeping upward. “Bill has great taste in that department,” I added. Lucy raised her eyebrows at me, but I pretended to make notes on the clipboard.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “You know what I could use though? Shoes. Size fourteen. And a half,” he said with a wink. “They’re hard to find, so don’t forget to write that down.”
It took me a second to realize I had dropped my pen. Lucy froze, and I was sure I saw her sneak a peek upward from where she was crouched. I wonder if that’s true? He does have big hands. And if . . . ? I shook my head and looked up. He was watching me in the reflection again.
“Shoot,” Lucy said, causing me to break the stare. “I pricked myself. I’m going to get a Band-Aid. I’m done if you want to get dressed, David.”
“So Brian Ayers, huh?” he asked when we were alone. “Do you really think it’s wise to go around drinking wine in strangers’ apartments?”
“I thought you knew him.”
“He’s still a stranger to you.”
“Is he a bad guy?”
“No, but that’s not the point,” he said, running his hand over his face. “And in that dress.” He exhaled loudly.
“It’s just business.” I smoothed my hand over my dress self-consciously.
He inclined toward me, and I stiffened instinctively. “Do you really find him attractive?” he asked near my ear while he picked up his phone from the desk. His hair was styled into that lustrous wave again, and when he stood back, I was left with a waft of men’s hair product.
I shook my head slowly without breaking eye contact. “I suppose some women might think so,” I echoed his words. “But no, he’s not my type.” David raised his eyebrows and looked pleased.
I leaned over for my apple and settled back against the desk. “Speaking of which, how’s Maria?” I asked casually.
“Hmm, not sure. We can call and ask if you’d like.” He waved his phone at me and I scowled. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You just have to ask,” he said. I looked into my apple, searching for an answer it couldn’t give me. I shook it slightly, hoping for an eight ball miracle.
He disappeared into the other room, this time leaving the door ajar. I hesitated, wondering if I really wanted to know. It was fair to say that the image of her perfectly browned skin and slitted green eyes had haunted me since the night we’d met. Why am I so pale? I lamented.
“So?” he called from the other side of the door.
“Okay.” I took a bite of the apple and chewed slowly. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“No,” he stated.
“Do you have sex?”
I listened to him chuckle and then fall silent. “Yes,” he said after a moment. I felt the divergence of my heart drop and my insides tighten simultaneously. Although I tried to look away, I couldn’t help noticing flashes of his tanned skin through the sliver of doorway. “We have an unspoken arrangement. We go out, she accompanies me to some events.” He paused. “We sleep together sometimes. But we’re not exclusive.”
“Not exclusive?” I asked incredulously. He reentered the room, crossing his arms and positioning himself in front of me.
“No,” he confirmed, looking me in the eye. “We see other people.”
“I thought you didn’t gallivant.”
“It’s hardly gallivanting,” he said, lifting his chin fractionally. “It’s cut-and-dry. I normally don’t have time to seek women out, but sometimes things develop.”
“Are you seeing other women?”
“Not technically at the moment,” he said. “But I can, and I do.”
I didn’t know why his honesty startled me. I’d known all along that he was a player – casual encounters and all. I had been right about one thing though – I wasn’t the only person who had experienced this connection with him. I suddenly felt out of my league, which was becoming an all too familiar feeling. My indignation from our first introduction resurfaced, and I found satisfaction in the fact that he couldn’t notch me on his figurative post like the others.
“Well,” I said uncomfortably, at a loss for words.
“Anything else?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. His words were measured, and I knew he’d heard my request for restraint earlier in the week. I got the feeling there was something he wanted me to ask, but he was playing indifferent. I decided I’d heard enough, though.
“No.” I forced a smile, a front for the confusion I was feeling.
“What is it?” he asked with a short nod.
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “I should check on Lucy,” I said after a moment.
“Olivia,” he said, and stopped. His face changed then, and I noticed his shoulders loosen slightly. “I’ve been reading your articles on-line. I enjoy your writing.”
What? I gave him a funny look as my insides flipped over, taken aback by the unsolicited compliment.
“No,” I shook my head, turning red. “My mother is a writer. I’m an editor. She used to make me sit and edit her stuff for hours, in fact.”
“Hmm,” he whirred. “You are a great writer, though.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, embarrassed that it came out sounding like a question. We sat that way for a moment as silence settled over the room. Before he could say anything else, I threw the apple rind I’d been holding into the trash across the room, sinking a perfect shot. “Three-pointer,” I said, throwing my hands up.
“Basketball fan, huh?” he grinned at me.
“Bill is,” I replied without thinking. “How about you?”
“I’m a Bears fan myself.”
“Ah. Football. I could see that.”
“Oh?”
“Sure, I can picture you as a quarterback, working the field. Leaving a trail of cheerleaders in your wake,” I said, biting my lip as I smiled. “Did you play in high school?”
“Yes, though I would’ve preferred to focus on the swim team.”
“So? Quarterback? Linebacker?” I paused, running my hand along the edge of Lucy’s desk. “Tight end?”
“QB.”
I nodded. “Thought so. I had a crush on our high school quarterback.” I cocked my head. “He looked a little like you, but not as tall,” I said, letting my eyes wander down his body.
His hand twitched, and he quickly crossed his arms tighter. “What are you doing?”
I lightly lifted my right shoulder, staring him down. “What do you mean?”
“You’re flirting with me, even though you asked me to back off. Just like on the roof the other day.” He stopped and I blinked at him a few times, unsure of what he’d say next. “Olivia, I’ll put on a show in front of your friends, at your work, whenever we’re in public. But I’m growing tired of pretending when we’re alone. Don’t tempt me,” he warned.
I knew by his indelicate tone that he meant to reprove me, but my insides liquefied in response. Pretending. What is he pretending? I swallowed as a tingling grew between my legs. For a quick second, I wished I were single so I could find out what he didn’t want to pretend anymore.
Lucy burst through the door again sporting a bright pink Band-Aid. “Sorry! I had to go all over, but I finally found a mom with one in her purse. I don’t even think it’s bleeding anymore.” Despite the carnal reaction my body was experiencing, I couldn’t help but smile at her; she could be so clueless at times. “So David, I think we’re all set. You can take your card back. Did you want to join us for lunch?”
He hesitated for maybe the first time since I’d met him. “I would love to,” he said and then looked at me pointedly. “But I really shouldn’t. Thanks for your help today. Good luck with the, uh, dresses,” he said, grabbing the rest of his things from the desk and backing away.
“Thanks, David! I’ll have your items delivered as soon as they’re altered.” She turned to gather the suits, but I watched him go. “Isn’t he sweet? Let’s go eat,” she said. “I’m starved.”
~
“Thanks for being flexible. I don’t think we have time for anything other than fast food.”
“No prob,” I said, sliding into the booth. “Oh, I supersized the fries.”
“You’re so bad!”
“We’re indulging! Before a dress fitting!” I exclaimed, unwrapping my burger. “Gretchen would not approve.”
“Oh, look.” She reached into her handbag. “This can be dessert so I don’t feel guilty,” she said, palming an apple.
“Really? I’m having a milkshake.”
“Olivia!” she scolded. “Should I have asked for a size four instead of a two?”
I laughed. “Shut up. So I haven’t even seen Gretchen since the restaurant opening.” I dipped a fry in ketchup.
“I was a little wasted,” she said, skewing her mouth.
“I think we all were. What’s the latest on the chef?”
“She’s still stringing him along, in true Gretch fashion. Sometimes it really bugs me, the way she treats those guys,” she confessed. It bothered me too, although I couldn’t be sure why. I didn’t mind that she played the field, but she seemed to revel in making them squirm.
“Well, it takes two,” I said, trying to be fair. “Sometimes I think they like it.”
“That’s true. But I just don’t see why. Was she always this way?”
“No,” I said, swallowing my food. “Growing up she was actually a bit shy and always hid behind these big glasses. A little pudgy too, but don’t tell her I said that. She’s so smart though, you know. When she met Greg, her appearance changed – she started doing her hair and lost some weight. That started a few weeks before the visit where you guys met. And when he left, well, you sort of know since you were there. That’s when something inside changed.”
“Greg was great,” Lucy said wistfully. “But I hate him.”
“Me too.” I laughed before pausing to think. “He was one of the closest friends I’ve ever had,” I said seriously. I realized then how much I missed him. After five years, I still considered him a close friend. I hadn’t been allowed to grieve his abrupt departure, since I had wanted to be strong for Gretchen.
“There was always something about him though,” Lucy continued, as if she hadn’t heard me. “Sometimes I felt like he was living behind a glass wall, like I could see him and he could see me, but I couldn’t quite touch him. Sometimes I wonder how I ever fit in with you two.”
“Lucy,” I laughed, wiping my hands on a napkin. “What do you mean? I never heard you say that about him.”
“Well we weren’t really supposed to talk about him after. I just think you guys were similar, which is why you got along so well. And Gretchen and I aren’t necessarily alike, but I’m surprised by how close we’ve become.” I nodded in agreement. Even though I’d introduced them, I sometimes envied their relationship. Their connection had developed quickly, and I’d often thought that they’d have found each other regardless. “And Andrew, well,” she smiled. “He’d get along with just about anyone, so I’m not surprised that he fits so well into the group. I’m just thankful I snagged him before anyone else did.”
“He’s a good one,” I nodded. “But you guys were meant for each other.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Do you feel that way about Bill?” she asked suddenly.
I stopped chewing before swallowing with a gulp. “Of course I do, Luce. But, you tell me. Where does poor Bill fit into all this?” I teased.
“Bill? Well, he’s . . .” Her face became still as she thought. “He and Andrew are becoming close, which I’m so happy about. It’s a dream come true that we found guys who get along so well. And he loves you so much.”
I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that. She was being sincere, but it felt like a cop out answer compared to what she’d just said about everyone else.
“Are you guys excited for our fishing expedition?” I asked, pretending to cast a line.
“Oh my gosh, you’re a nerd. Andrew is over the moon.” Just then, her phone chimed. “And that would be him,” she said, pulling it out. “‘Gonna catch you a big one tomorrow,’” she read aloud. We burst into laughter. “Did I mention that he’s excited?”
“That’s sweet,” I said with a big smile. “Should we invite Gretch? Do you think she’d come this year?”
“We can try.” She balled up her trash and tossed it on the tray.
~
I stood with my arms planed, trying not to laugh as the seamstress pulled at the armhole. “It tickles,” I whined to Gretchen as she watched.
“I told you.”
“So I guess I can’t wear a bra with this,” I observed, looking over my shoulder at the back, or lack thereof.
“Don’t move,” the seamstress ordered.
“Nope,” Lucy said. “But don’t worry, neither of you need the support. I wouldn’t have chosen this style otherwise.” In the mirror, I admired the rich Bordeaux color against my fair skin. The dress was floor-length silk jersey and fitted, but not tight. The neckline, held by razor-thin straps, dipped slightly lower than I was comfortable with, forming a ‘V’ between my breasts. “You can wear those chicken cutlet things if you want,” she added.
“That feels a little snug,” I said, grimacing. The woman blinked up at me briefly and continued working, ignoring my complaint.
“I’m on a strict diet until the wedding,” Gretchen said. “I do not want to look like a porker in the photos.”
“Oh, you’re going to look great,” Lucy reassured her. “You guys look even better in red than I thought. I’m a genius.”
“Well, I should hope so, you do this for a living,” Gretchen pointed out. “What about your dress?”
“No luck yet. Still looking. I’ve always known the colors I wanted to use, so your dresses were easy.”
“We need to have a dress-hunting party,” I offered. “Bring some magazines this weekend.”
“What’s this weekend?”
“Fishing,” we said in unison.
“Do you want to come?” I asked. “Lucy and I are going to stock up on Pinot Grigio and review bridal magazines by the fire while our men forage.”
“No thanks. I have plans. Have fun though,” she said, making a face.
“Well, you’re just jealous that we’ll be in flannel pajamas while you’re running around in four-inch heels. Never mind,” I said, giving up. “You win.”
“Finished,” the seamstress said. “Go change.”
I slipped out of the dress and checked the tag before handing it to her from the fitting room. I decided that Bill wouldn’t need to know about the expense until he figured it out on his own. Anyway, there was no getting around it.
Lucy and I said good-bye to Gretchen and walked the quarter mile back to work. Having her office across the street from mine made daily life a little better.
“Oh, I have the car today. Do you want a ride home?” I asked.
“How come?”
“Bill had to leave the city for a case this morning, so he carpooled with a colleague. How ‘bout it?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“K, text me when you’re done for the day.”
~
“So, my crown just fell out,” Lucy said as soon as I entered her office. I’d decided to leave work a few minutes early and was hoping to convince her to do the same. She indicated to her mouth. “I think it was the apple. That’s what I get for trying to be healthy.”
“Ouch,” I scrunched up my nose and looked away. I’d prided myself on having as little dental work done on my mouth as possible, due to routine flossing and brushing. My father had scared me into it as a kid, forcing the doctor to show me detailed photos of dental procedures.
“I called the dentist, and he can see me right now, it shouldn’t take more than an hour to fix. I’m sorry, go home and I’ll just see you tonight.” The phone rang shrilly, causing us both to jump. “I hate that thing,” she muttered.
“I’ll give you a ride to the dentist.”
She looked at the phone, which continued to ring. “What time is it? Geez, nobody wants to stay a minute after five.”
“Oh, can I be your receptionist?” I asked, but I was already leaning over to answer the phone. I blanked suddenly, forgetting the name of the company. “Personal styling department,” I said, grimacing as Lucy laughed.
“Olivia?”
I froze. “Yes?”
“It’s David. Dylan.”
Surprised, I lowered myself onto the edge of the desk. “Oh, hello, David. How did you know it was me?”
“With a voice like that?” He scoffed. I was immediately transplanted back to middle school, where my throatiness had been frequently mocked.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, clearing my throat. How many times had I asked him that? I wondered idly what he could do for me.
“Actually, I was looking for Lucy.”
“Right, of course.”
I made to pass the phone but he continued. “I have a bit of a situation on my hands.”
“Go on,” I said, shrugging at Lucy.
Who is it? she mouthed at me.
David Dylan, I mouthed back. She paused a second before continuing to pack up her purse.
“Something came up this evening. I’ve been invited to a black tie gala at the Museum of Contemporary Art and it’s, well, soon. My only tuxedo is in my New York apartment. I need to know if Lucy can find me one fast, and I’ll pick it up on my way.”
“Oh,” I said. “Hang on.” I hit the hold button and repeated what he’d just told me.
“Shit,” she said, catching me off guard. Hearing Lucy curse was like seeing a fish on land, it was just fundamentally wrong. “My boss would kill me,” she said to herself.
“Why? Where would you even get a tuxedo right now?”
“Well, what is he, six-foot-three? Four? We have something that one of the Bears wore to an event recently, he was about David’s build. Not perfect but it could work in a pinch. I guess I can go to the dentist on Monday.”
“Well,” I started, “maybe I can help.”
Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling as she thought. “You could. That would be so awesome, but you don’t have to. I can set everything up quickly and go to the appointment – all you’d have to do is wait here, give him the suit and lock up.”
“I can do that,” I said. “We probably won’t leave for the cabin ‘til eight or nine anyway.”
“Here, give me the phone,” she said, taking it from my hands. “David? It’s Lucy. Listen, I have an emergency dental appointment . . . No, no, it’s fine, but I think I have something here that could work. Liv says she will wait for you if you want to swing by on the way.” She paused and I held my breath. “Great. Sounds good.” She looked at me. “She’ll see you in half an hour.”
I knew I should be disappointed about the delay, but instead I just felt anxious. The way my stomach knotted up and my nerves hummed, I was forced to recognize that a friendship with David just might not be possible. Whatever had been planted inside me the night at the theater was fast blossoming.
“Oh crap,” she muttered. “I don’t have dress shoes or a shirt in his size.”
“Just get out of here,” I said, a plan forming in my mind. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Liv, you don’t understand. David is a huge client. I can’t mess this up.”
“K look, it’s no big deal. I can call Jack, the bartender from your party, remember? He’s our gopher when we need stuff at the office, and he’s almost always available.”
“There’s a Men’s Wearhouse in this neighborhood,” she said. “I know because Andrew has an appointment there next week.”
“Perfect. Call in the order on your way, and I’ll have him pick it up while I wait for David.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” she said, squeezing me in a tight hug. She ran out of the office and then back in with the tuxedo. “Everything else is in this bag. Call me if there are any problems, I have to go or the dentist will leave.”
“Go,” I urged.
Jack picked up on the first ring and was ready to help. Over the years he’d become one of the few people who made my life easier instead of harder. As I waited for him, I drank almost an entire water bottle in one gulp, used the restroom, and then drank another one. My nerves continued to hum.
“You are the best,” I said when Jack arrived thirty minutes later.
“You said that on the phone already,” he replied, blushing faintly.
“I can’t believe I caught you. Hope you didn’t have plans.” He opened his mouth but I didn’t wait for his answer. “By the way, thank you for bartending Lucy’s party. You were a hit. Score any digits?”
“Of course. Nobody good though.” His eyes crinkled with a mega-watt smile.
“I know, silly question,” I said as I unpacked the bag. “This is nice,” I said, admiring the shirt.
“Um,” he started just as the elevator sounded.
“That’s probably the client,” I said. “Thanks again, Jack. I’ll pay you for the extra hour.”
“Don’t worry about it, Livs. Consider it a favor. Er, some of us are headed to Navy Pier for a drink later. You should come.”
“Ah, I don’t think so. Bill and I are going north this weekend.” Just then, David’s impressive figure rounded the doorway.
“Too bad,” he said, turning and almost running into David. Jack, with his slick blond hair and hard body, was a hot topic at the office. They were comically matching in light jeans and half-zip pullovers, but Jack paled in comparison to David.
“Jack, this is Mr. Dylan. Jack was kind enough to personally deliver some things for your event tonight.”
“Nice to meet you,” David said indifferently with a quick handshake.
Jack turned back to me. “Maybe next time Liv?” he said with a hint of hopefulness. “You have my number if anything changes.”
Once we were alone, I shut the door and turned my attention to David. “So, here we are again. I’m going to ask Lucy to start paying me.”
“He likes you,” David stated.
“Oh, pfft,” I waved my hand dismissively. “He doesn’t. I’m not even sure he’s straight,” I added, knowing that he definitely was.
“He is straight, and he’s into you.”
“And you can tell that after thirty seconds?”
“He was flirting with you at Lucy’s party.”
My smile melted down my face. Jack’s and my only interaction at the party had been right before I’d spilled my drink. I thought of those chestnut browns on me, watching, observing.
“Yes, I saw you,” he said, reading my expression. “I followed you into the kitchen to find out your name, which I did, and ask you out, which I did not.”
“Oh,” I said, involuntarily touching my heart. His candor always sent it aflutter, and I was clinging to the small hints he kept dropping.
“In any case, he likes you.”
“Well, he’s headed for disappointment then,” I said, wiggling my left hand. I wasn’t sure if I’d meant the reminder for him or for myself. “Here.” I handed him the shirt and ended the conversation before it could go anywhere. “The tuxedo’s in there,” I said sternly. “We do not take sartorial emergencies lightly.”
As he changed, I smoothed my hair and quelled my stirring libido. I fought with myself, battling thoughts and reactions that were sinful, but that also felt out of my control.
He came out soon after, buttoning up the shirt. Each button swallowed up a little bit of dark, curly chest hair. His hair was black marble, styled in its sophisticated, slight ripple. My breath caught as he walked over to the mirror and slipped into the shoes I had placed on the floor. Men look infinitely more handsome in a tuxedo, I thought wistfully.
“These are too small.”
I pulled out the shoebox and flipped it around. “Yep. Size fourteen. Guess she couldn’t quite get that half, so you’ll have to make it work.”
“Where did Lucy find all this on such short notice?” he asked.
“Our secret.”
“Great,” he said to himself. “I’m impressed.”
I walked over and handed him the jacket, taking his wrist in my hand as I inserted the cufflinks. I stealthily admired his watch, a thick silver Rolex with a large black dial. “The tux is on loan for tonight,” I said.
“Can’t I just buy it?
“No, it belongs to someone else.”
“I doubt he’d miss it,” David said. When I looked up, he had a half smile on his freshly-shaven face.
“I’m sure he would. A lot.” I wrinkled my nose at him. It was becoming hard to ignore the palpable heat that was building between us. His stare followed when I moved to the left cuff, but I willed my eyes downward. A deep breath filled my nostrils with his spicy aftershave. I returned to the bag Lucy had left and held out the bow tie. He draped it around his neck, furrowing his brow as he applied singular focus to the task.
“Here, let me,” I said softly, slipping between him and the mirror. The spicy scent, now mixed with something fresh, something from a recent shower, intensified as I leaned in. Reaching up, I deftly molded the fabric into a neat bow. Aside from our wedding day, I’d never seen Bill in a tux, but I’d fixed my dad’s bowties when I was younger, and the motions were automatic. The memory of my mom and dad going out one evening made me smile. My mother wore a floor-length, black beaded dress that she had called ‘fancy,’ and Chanel No. 5 clouded their tiny bathroom.
As I pulled the bow taut, my fingers stilled and lingered; I could no longer avoid his penetrating gaze. I watched the rise and fall of his chest until my eyes traveled up his exposed neck. His Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed. The ends of his hair looked damp. Creases around his lax mouth remained, though his smile did not. Finally, our eyes locked.
In one slow, measured movement, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. His other hand rose and raked through my hair, tilting my mouth upward. Instinctively, I pulled away as he closed the space between us, but his hold was firm. My eyes unwittingly fluttered shut as his lips touched mine, testing the new territory. Warmth pulsed through me with the rise and fall of my chest, reacting to the disparateness of his purposeful but tender touch. My mouth parted imperceptibly and he answered with a harder kiss, opening me with his lips. An ache blossomed between my legs, responding to the hot breath and heady taste of another man.
Without direction, my body molded to his, and my mouth gave way. He cupped my face and backed me against the mirror as the kiss became needier. His hands moved down my neck, over my collarbone and covered my shoulders, where he pressed me into the glass. That ache grew painfully, eager for satisfaction. I yearned to reach up and touch him but his unyielding grasp immobilized me.
An impassioned moan escaped my lips, and he tore away, leaving me gasping for air. He released my shoulders abruptly and stepped back.
“What are you doing?” he asked so softly that I was sure he hadn’t meant for me to hear. “Fuck.” He turned away from me and ran both hands through his styled hair. “Fuck!” he yelled and pounded his fist against the wall. He whipped the door open and stalked out.
Slowly, I covered my tingling mouth as shame seeped over me. I methodically picked up the office with trembling hands. I folded the clothes he’d left behind and set them in the bag. Twice, because of my shaky hand, I wrote a note to Lucy explaining that David had left in a hurry without his things.
This can’t happen, I told myself. Put it away, Olivia. This has to stop.
~
I felt physically and emotionally drained when I returned home. The idea of a weekend sojourn, beginning with an hour car drive felt impossible. When I entered the apartment, I heard noises coming from the bedroom.
“Livs?” Bill called.
“Yep.”
“We should probably eat before we pick them up.”
I walked by the pile of fishing equipment at the door and into the bedroom, where Bill was folding clothes into an open suitcase. “You should start packing, too.”
The urge to turn and run overcame me. I didn’t want to face him, so I looked away. “I already did.” I pointed to my suitcase in the corner. “I’ll make something to eat.”
“K. Hey, wait,” he said, reaching out and pulling me over. I tensed under his touch but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He kissed the top of my head and tucked some hair behind my ear. “How was your day? Work late?”
“It was good,” I said, curling my lips into what I hoped was a smile. I discreetly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to erase traces of David. “I’m not feeling well though, would you mind soup for dinner?”
He crinkled his nose in response. “I hate soup.”
“Please,” I said. “I’m not up for making anything.”
“It’s fine, I’ll get something on the way. What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing, I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“And you’re going to get one. Soon we’ll be under the stars, away from all the noise. Doesn’t get much more peaceful than a cabin in the woods,” he said excitedly. “I can’t wait.”
Life in Chicago had taught me to not only appreciate but to love the fast pace of a city. For me, the best lullaby was the telltale sounds of a sleeping city. But Bill saw things differently. He longed for the sort of tranquility that only nature could provide. “Me neither,” I agreed, trying to remain positive. “I could use some fresh air.”
After a can of chicken soup, I didn’t feel any better. I needed to cleanse, not consume. Despite Bill’s protests, I flipped the shower on, promising him it would be quick.
“Quick?” he called through the door. “Sure, then you have to do your hair and make-up, Liv, I’m almost done – can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“No,” I snapped. “The steam will help my head.” I peeled my dress off, letting it fall on the floor as Bill opened the door and stuck his head in.
“Babe, I’m not going to do my hair or make-up,” I said, exasperated.
“Damn right,” he said. “We don’t have time for that.”
“I get it. I’ll be fast. There’s a twenty in my purse – take the bags downstairs, and get yourself food from the corner. I’ll meet you down there in fifteen minutes.”
He grunted in response and turned away.
“Honey, the door! You’re letting all the steam out.”
He pulled the door shut as I stepped under the showerhead. I dumped too much body wash in my hand and smoothed it over my skin where the water burned. Oh God, oh God. What have I done? And what do I do now?
I forced David’s face from my mind. His lusty eyes tormented me, reeling me in before his body had cast me aside. I imagined my hands were his and squeezed my shoulders as he had, but my grip was pitiful in comparison. I ran his hands over my breasts, caressing taut nipples.
I opened my eyes and shook my head. Stop! I begged myself. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I twisted the dial closer toward the red, forcing myself in the water’s punishing path. The ache from earlier gnawed at me, dragging my hands downward. My chest heaved as I gave in to the memory, gave in to the feel of David’s lips against mine just moments before.
My palm pushed against the mound between my legs, slippery from the soap, and my fingers circled my opening, massaging the skin as my arousal mounted. David, I thought, slipping two fingers inside myself and moving into them. Firm, strong hands . . . holding me still . . . on my skin . . . . I shot my other fist against the wall across from me, pressing into it as I began to lose myself in the thought of him. With my back flush against the slick tile, I lifted one leg onto the opposite wall, continuing to pump and rub with my other hand. I gasped for air as my imagination took over, as David pulled open my blouse, hiked up my skirt and rubbed against me. I ripped the nozzle from its place in a fury and fixed it against myself, letting the scalding water beat against my clit. Oh god, oh god. I writhed against it as David threw me on the desk, opening me with his fingers and shoving inside of me mercilessly. With all my strength, I pushed my foot into the tile as the waves crested, throwing me into a fierce, blinding orgasm that continued longer than I was used to.
I waited until my heartbeat slowed before gently placing the nozzle back into its holder. Below, I was red and raw from the force of the water. I continued to wash my skin, carefully avoiding the painful area with my hands. I’d wanted to cleanse myself of him, of his presence, of the ache he had inspired. Instead I felt filthier than ever.