by R. S. Lively
"I did say that."
"So, what changed?"
He's been inside me, so it seems like I should let him be inside my business.
Maybe that wouldn't be the best answer to give Lee.
"He loves theater like I do. He moved away from his hometown and his entire family to come to New York so he could be around the arts more."
Lee snaps his fingers a few times, his face scrunching up as he thinks hard.
"Oh, my gosh. I know someone who did that. Who was it... who was it... who was it? Ummmm... oh. That's right." He leans toward me. "Every-fucking-body."
"I know," I sigh. "That's kind of a thing."
"Kind of a thing? It is the only thing. Look at the Hudson River. Our biggest icon is a badass bitch in a fabulous gown leaving France to come be closer to the arts."
"Alright, putting that aside. Didn't you just point out that he brought me flowers? And aren't you the same person who was appalled when I didn't accept an immediate date with this man? Now your panties are in a bunch because I want to tell him what I actually do for a living? Something he will understand and appreciate?"
"If said panties existed, they wouldn't be in a bunch because you want to show off Wonderland. I love that place, and you know it. I'm just thinking that telling him about the theater will inevitably lead to you telling him about the problems you are dealing with, and that seems like you're letting him a lot closer than a fling."
"Maybe I want more than a fling now."
"Are you sure that's what you want? Or are you just looking for something to take the edge off everything that's happening?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He doesn't have to say what he's thinking. "This wouldn't have anything to do with him hiring a private chef for a dinner party and having a swarm of maids, would it?"
"Well…"
I swing my legs off the bed and stand up.
"I can't believe you. Of all the people in the world, I would never think I'd hear something like that from you, Lee. You're my best friend. At least, you're supposed to be."
"I am."
"Yeah, my best friend who thinks I'm trying to get my claws into a man because he might have some money he can throw at my theater."
"That didn't come out right. Of course, you wouldn't do that. I just don't want you to let him too close if you're not really ready for it. Remember you don't really know much about this man."
"You didn't even know it wasn't him who hired you, but his assistant."
"See? Exactly. I don't know anything either. I just don't want to see you hurt."
"I care about Dean, Lee. I think I'm starting to fall for him. Can't you just be happy for me?"
"I'll always be happy for you."
He grabs the remote from the nightstand and turns on the TV.
"What are you doing?"
"Movie night. I suddenly really want to see Ghostbusters II."
The next afternoon…
I am purposely meeting Dean away from my apartment, so we actually make it to the theater this afternoon rather than just taking up semi-permanent residence in the bedroom. Winter is back with a vengeance, so I'm huddled in a coffee shop keeping warm beneath a heavy wool scarf. Dean grins at me as he comes in the door and steps up to the counter to order a drink. He leans down to give me a kiss and I sigh happily into it.
"What are you drinking?" he asks as he settles across from me and takes off his coat.
"Hot chocolate."
"Hardcore."
"Well," I lean toward him conspiratorially, "I did put some caramel in it."
"Bad girl," he murmurs, leaning to meet me in the center of the table.
That phrase has much more of an effect on me than I expect, and he looks at me like he no longer cares what I might have planned for this afternoon. If I'm going to go through with this, I'm going to have to stay focused. Only letting myself indulge in one more kiss, I sit back in my seat.
"So, I only have one thing planned for today, but it's something I hope you'll really enjoy. Before we go, though, I have to tell you something."
Dean lowers his cup slowly.
"Alright. What is it?"
"I'm not really a cook."
Laughter bursts out of Dean, and he nods.
"I know."
"You know?"
"Of course, I do. I have since the night we met."
"How?"
He looks at me incredulously.
"Do you think that was the first time I've had a dinner party?"
"Yes. You told me it was."
"OK. That was the first one I've had at the brownstone. But it's definitely not the first time I've hired a chef. I could spot you a mile away. Besides, my assistant told me he hired a guy."
“Yeah, you actually hired Lee. I’d been planning to help him anyway, but his boyfriend, Charlie, got hurt, so I had to completely take over. I guess I’m glad he couldn’t make it that night.”
Dean chuckles. “I am, too.”
"So, you just let me flop around in your kitchen and didn't tell me?"
"You promised chocolate cheesecake. And you were doing a fine job. It didn't matter. Besides, I wanted to be able to look at you more."
He smiles, and it is the first moment in my life I understand what the word 'rakish' is supposed to mean.
"If you've hired chefs before, why didn't you just call one you've already worked with?"
"A couple weren't available and I didn't want to go back to the same one I've used a lot before. I try not to use the same professionals too many times for things like that. It avoids the awkwardness of them thinking they are my personal provider."
Something about that sticks in the back of my mind, but I'm not sure exactly what about it interests me. Filing it away, I take a sip of my hot chocolate, readying myself for the rest of the conversation.
"Well, that was a much more anticlimactic reveal than I expected it to be. Fortunately, there's more to this afternoon than that. But it does make my segue back to my childhood a little more challenging."
"You had a segue?"
"I was working on something vaguely culinary, to tie into the cheesecake. It hasn't come together yet. Anyway. I'll just dive in. Let's actually walk while we talk. Things will make more sense that way."
We pile our layers back on and take our drinks out onto the sidewalk. The air makes my cheeks feel raw, and I try to bury my head down into the scarf as much as possible while still giving enough room for my mouth so I can talk.
"I told you I was born in New York, but not the city. That's because I spent the first several years of my life living on a compound with my parents and my brother. My parents had gotten drawn into what was essentially a cult and were raising us in it. There's a lot there, and I took a lot of time kind of bubble-wrapping and packing it all away in the darkest corners of my mind, so I don't want to get into it right now. Someday, but just for now, that's the Reader's Digest Condensed Version."
"Alright," Dean says, watching me carefully as we walk.
It's the first time I'm realizing he is that elusive man. The kind with such confidence and underlying charisma he can walk down a sidewalk in New York City without watching where he's going, completely assured he won't run into anyone, and everyone around him actually parts ways to let him through. Other men trying to pull that off would get bounced off the belly of a pissed-off former dreamer who found cracks in the streets paved with gold and wants everyone to know about it.
"They finally figured out what the organization was trying to shove down their throats was bunk and left. We had to start a new life. But that's when my father introduced me to movies and theater. It was something I never got to experience before we left the compound. We didn't even have a TV when I was a really small child, so movies were magical. Going to see shows was my special time with my father, and it meant everything to me. It was a way to lose ourselves when we didn't want to think about anything around us. I think this was especially true for my father when he started thin
king about my brother. Richard died before we left, and I know my father carried that with him every day of his life. It wasn't his fault, but a big part of him felt like he hadn't protected his son. It might sound silly but bringing me to movies and shows was his way of making up for the childhood I had missed out on. Almost like he was trying to give me back the imagination and wonder and intense emotions that we weren't allowed to experience there."
"That doesn't sound silly at all."
We turn onto the street where Wonderland sits, and excitement starts fluttering in my chest.
"When my father got sick, we weren't able to go out together like we used to. Right before he died, we found out our favorite theater had closed down and was in really bad condition. It broke my heart to see it that way and I knew it would have meant everything to my father to see it in its glory again. After he passed, I went back to the theater, it was called the Goldberg at the time, and found out it was available for sale. And…" I stop beneath Wonderland's marquee and hold one hand out toward the door, presenting it to Dean, "I bought it."
There's almost no reaction. He stares at me, and then up at the marquee, seemingly dumbfounded by what I told him.
"You bought it?" he asks. "This is yours?"
"Yeah. I mean," I glance back over my shoulder through the glass door to the slumbering lobby. "I know it's not really impressive, but it matters a lot to me."
"I think it's wonderful."
The breath escapes my lungs in a gust of relief and happiness.
"You do?"
Dean nods and reaches for my hand.
"Can I see inside?"
Chapter Fourteen
Dean
I hope Alice can't feel my hand shaking as it holds hers. Her face is bright, her blue eyes glittering with the smile on her full lips, but my stomach feels like I swallowed a heated rock. It sank the instant I heard her mention the Goldberg. That name is familiar. Even if she hadn't said it, as soon as we got beneath the marquee, I would have known. It wasn't fully lit the last time I saw it. Now the bulbs around the vintage sign glow like her face, showing me the image I had in my mind years ago when I saw this theater and knew I wanted to add it to my collection.
I’d told my acquisitions team then to walk away because someone else was trying to buy the theater. But they went behind my back and invested in it because the buyer – Alice – couldn't finance it herself. She is the woman Micah was talking about in his office, the easy target he is planning on buying out because of a contract she isn't fulfilling.
The realization makes me feel sick. We walk into the lobby, and I see her eyes soften as she looks around the space she so clearly loves. There's sadness around the edges of that gaze. I probably wouldn't have noticed it if I didn't already know it had to be there. She's thinking about the future and the uncertainty of this theater’s place in it. The words of a confession fill my mouth, but before I can let them out, my eyes fall on a plaque bolted into the side of one of the columns. I'd been listening so intently to her story while we were walking here, I hadn't noticed the name on the marquee, but the plaque tells me.
“Wonderland?” I ask.
She lets out a short laugh.
“Yeah. You know. Alice in Wonderland. It was my father's favorite book. That's where I got my name. He never actually told me, but I like to think it was partially his love for that book that convinced him and my mother to finally get out of the compound. The organization wasn't exactly supportive of the creative arts, especially any type of literature they didn't produce or specifically approve. Something as whimsical and outlandish as that was an affront to everything they were. You don't want people using their imaginations, or trying to find anything unique and fascinating about the world, you know? He started reading it to me when I was just a baby, but someone found out and he stopped for a while. Then I got a little older and he pulled it out again and we got lost together in Wonderland. I'll never understand why he and my mother voluntarily gave themselves over to such a restrictive and controlling community. I'm sure there was something in it that spoke to them, at least at the beginning. But by the time we left it was like they were going to burst if they had to spend another second there."
I notice a white feather on the floor and bend down to pick it up.
“What's this?”
She plucks the feather from between my fingers and examines it.
“A bride came in here yesterday for her pictures. I guess she's going for the ‘Big Bird’ bridal look. This wedding brought to you by the letter G because of how much her daddy is going to have to spend to pay for it. Anyway, this must have escaped Lee's cleaning efforts last night.”
“Lee works here, too?”
She nods.
“He's been with me every step of the way. Even when it seems completely hopeless and there was no chance I was going to be able to actually buy it, he was there to reassure me. He and I are the only two permanent employees. On the rare occasion we have a big event, I hire a staff for it. For the most part, though, it's just him and me. He's even the one who came up with the idea to have things like bridal portraits done here. I never would have thought of that. To me, this place is about the movies and shows. Maybe it's more about the memories of the ones I saw here with my father. It means everything to me to be able to own it. For as long as I can, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
She looks embarrassed to have said that and shakes her head.
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just wanted you to see it.”
“Tell me, Alice.”
She licks her lips and her shoulders lower under the weight of what she's going to tell me.
“It turns out owning and running a vintage theater is far more expensive than I anticipated, not to mention the cost of actually making it functional again. I burned through my savings and haven't had the business I need to keep up my end of the investment contract that made it possible for me to even buy it. I really didn't want to even accept help. I was hoping to use my own money and a private loan, but it wasn't enough. An investor came forward offering to be a silent partner in exchange for regular payments. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to keep up with those payments so much recently, and the angel investor is turning into a little bit of a demon.”
“Why do you say that?”
She has already confirmed my suspicions about my team, and now I want as much information from her perspective as I can get. Micah already misled me once, and I have no faith he'll come clean about the way he has been handling the situation if I confront him. Understanding what's happening through Alice's eyes may help me figure out what to do next.
“My silent partner is understandably frustrated about not getting their payments on schedule. But recently that understanding has turned into anger. They've gotten pretty forceful and I'm just trying to figure out what to do next.”
“Alice, I'm so sorry you're going through this.”
“I'll be fine. I just have to take it one step at a time. There's nothing else I can do. I'll figure something out." She pointed further into the theater. "Do you want to see the rest of it?"
"Of course."
My mind is spinning as she gives me a tour of the rest of the theater. Alice is doing everything she can to stay strong and sound confident, but it's obvious she's devastated by what's happening. The thought of losing the theater that has had so much impact on her life is hurting her and I want to swoop in and protect her from it. At the same time, I value my own business and the reputation and integrity I've built over the years. Besides, there's no tactful and delicate way to reveal the truth to her. Anything I say is going to embarrass her at best and infuriate her at worst. Not only will she know I am, even if indirectly, behind all the stress and difficulty she's going through, but this is not how I want her to find out about my wealth and the details about myself I've been hiding from her.
This isn't something I can make go away without there being awkward and potentially damaging c
onsequences for one or both of us. I can't just blurt the truth out right now. Hurting Alice even more is something I can't bear the thought of doing. Now that I’m looking at her, rolling these thoughts through my mind, it’s more obvious than it even was when I was away that I'm falling for her. Telling her all this now could ruin everything. There has to be some way to resolve this for her without risking what we are just now discovering.
I think back to what I've told her about my company. All I can remember mentioning is that I'm in the business of making things happen. I didn't go into any more detail than that or even mention the name of the company, though finding out it wasn't actually an offshoot of the mafia was probably a relief for Alice considering my choice of description.
Even if I had told her, she still couldn't immediately link me to the deal. The acquisitions department of my office operates separately from the rest of DreamMakers, Inc. and under a different name. In retrospect, I made that decision expressly for the purpose of this type of situation, though I would never have expected it to unfold quite like this. Having the acquisitions team operate under a different name helps to prevent business owners and real estate brokers from figuring out that it’s the financially powerful Laurence family behind purchases so they can’t jack up the price during negotiations. It was never meant for this.
Alice leads me through a narrow door and onto a staircase that brings us up high above the dark, quiet house. There's just enough illumination from emergency lights along the aisles and above the exits for us to be able to look down over the rows of seats from our vantage point.
“So, this is your catwalk.”
“It is,” she says. “It's the first one I ever climbed up on.”
“Oh, really? I suppose that means no one has ever done this up here.”
I wrap a hand around her waist and draw her up against my body so I can kiss her. That kiss holds so much more than our first and I let it linger. First thing in the morning I'll go talk to Micah. Tonight is about Alice.
