I can still see him on the other side of the street, but instead of staring at the door to the bakery, he’s glancing here and there like he’s wondering what’s going on. I know what he did―he looked through the pastry shop’s windows and didn’t see her there. He’s wondering where she went.
Son of a bitch can keep on wondering.
When I open the apartment door, she’s standing there, staring at me. “What the fuck was that about?” she asks, eyes wide.
“A guy was watching you, Cirilla.”
“You’ve been reading my diary too much, Brian,” she says with a snort.
“No. I saw him and I watched him. And he was watching you. He’s out there right now, trying to figure out what just happened and where you are.”
“Uh-huh.” Now she’s got a hip cocked and her arms folded across her chest. “And just what did he look like?”
“I dunno. Middle-aged, I guess. Kinda thick in the middle. Darkish hair. Maybe a little mustache or―”
“Good thing you didn’t witness a crime. You’d be useless to the police, know that?” she announces with a snort.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly have time to have a selfie made with him. But the odd thing was his suit. It looked kind of like one of those old polyester leisure suits.”
Head thrown back, she stares at the ceiling and sighs. “Yeah. This will be the third time that I know of. They’ve found me. They’re just trying to make sure it’s really me.”
“We should move.”
“Hell no, we’re not moving. I’m not running. They want me, they’ll have to come and get me.”
“You’re not going out by yourself again.”
“You can’t say that! I have places I have to go and things I have to do!” she barks back.
“Nothing that important. You go out, it’ll be with me. You go with one of the girls, either Clint or I will have to go with you. Or Dave. I don’t know how well Steffen handles himself. But you won’t be wandering the streets of Seattle by yourself, not anymore. And I’m having a security system installed tomorrow.”
“But I―”
“No buts. I’m your Dominant. I’m sworn to protect you, and I’m going to do just that, no matter how difficult you make it for me. Do you understand me? Do not defy me, Cirilla. I mean it.” I know my voice is threatening, but I don’t care. If it’ll give her pause before she does something stupid and thick-headed, then good.
“Yes, sir.” I can hear the defeat in her voice, but I hear something else.
Resignation, the kind of resignation that comes from knowing somebody’s right and that they’re trying to do what’s best for her, regardless how much she hates it. She knows. I’ve told her I’d die protecting her, and I wasn’t kidding.
Something tells me bad things are about to happen. I hope that’s wrong, but I fear it’s right.
* * *
Three months. It’s the peak of summer. Cirilla and I have worked hard, and my commissions for the last three months have been well over three hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Not sloppy. We’ve seen guys watching her a couple of times, but they never get close. I’m starting to wonder if they think they got bad information and they’ve been following the wrong person. At least I hope that’s what’s happened. Our relationship has blossomed into something I could’ve only dreamed about a year ago.
And the damn charity event is next week.
We finally came up with a new theme, “Tats for Tots,” and we’ve got a dozen tattoo artists coming. We also have eight airbrush artists coming who’ll do painted-on tattoos for people who don’t want the real thing. We’re having a raffle, and the grand prize is an all-expense-paid, five-day trip to Hawaii. I wouldn’t mind winning that.
I got in touch with at least twenty-five people I went to college with, the ones who own businesses in the area, and I managed to raise over sixty thousand dollars in sponsorships. We only needed about fifteen thousand, so that overage will go to the charity along with everything we raise that night. I offered them a seat at the president’s table, meaning the president of the organization, and that’s where I’ll be sitting. I’m excited to see them all again, and they seemed excited to know everyone will be together for an evening.
The most amazing thing? We announced the theme and someone let it slip to the right people. Two weeks later, the woman who does the most popular tattoo parlor show on TV called me―ME―and asked if she could come. She said for every person who gets a tat from her that night and says, “I want a tat for tots,” she’ll donate two thousand dollars. Then she started calling show business friends, and five big-name actors and two big-name recording artists contacted me and asked if they could come. One of the recording artists even offered to do a mini concert.
We had to move the thing to a bigger venue and offer more tickets. I couldn’t believe it. The master ballroom at the biggest conference center in the city. Thank god it was available for the night, and they gave us a sweet deal, courtesy of my little negotiating vixen. I told her if this thing goes over a hundred thousand dollars in donations, I’ll break down and cry right there.
She said if I did, she’d kick my ass for being a pussy. Nothing like a little motivation to keep a guy dry-eyed.
I finally broach the subject I’ve been dreading. We’re eating at her favorite seafood restaurant―can you tell I’m trying to grease the skids?―and it can’t wait. “Okay, so this event is a big deal. Are you going with me?”
A look of abject horror settles on her face. “Oh, god, no. That would be a huge mistake.”
“No it wouldn’t! You should come with me. I want you to come with me. I don’t care if you’re dressed like a frump. It won’t matter. But I really, really want you to come. I know you won’t let me give you credit for helping, but at least you could enjoy the fruits of your labors.”
“But there’ll be a lot of picture taking that night, and I can’t take the risk.”
“Look,” I tell her, almost pleading, “if you see someone with a camera, go the other way. If there’s one everywhere you look, go into the bathroom and hide in a stall. Whatever you have to do. But I want you to come with me. Please?” I whine, using my best puppy-dog eyes.
“You’re a terrible person. Listen to you. You sound so pitiful,” she grouses.
“I am. I’m so pitiful because I want you to come with me,” I tell her again.
“But you know that if anyone sees me, I mean, you know what I mean, that―”
“Submissive, I order you to come with me,” I say in my most authoritative voice.
“Oh, no, buster. You’re not playing that card with me,” she scolds.
“Yes, I am. I’m your master, and I want you to come with me. Please?” She just laughs. “Don’t laugh. You’re hurting my feelings. This is a big night for me, and I’d like for you to be there, even if you feel like you have to stand in a corner across the room, which you don’t, but even if you do,” I explain. She’s hurting my feelings. That’s a good line. I’ll have to remember that one.
“Oh, Brian …”
“Please?” I beg. “I’ll get down on one knee and beg if I have to.”
“If you get down on one knee, it had better not be to beg me to go with you to a stupid event!” she blurts out, and a split second later, her eyes fly open wide and she throws both hands up over her mouth.
I stare at her, but she doesn’t move, just sits there like that. Finally, I say, “Cirilla, is that what you want?” She doesn’t answer me and keeps sitting there, eyes wide and hands over her mouth. “Answer me. Is that where you want this to go?”
“Brian, I―”
“Answer me, damn it. Just say yes or no. It’s that simple.”
“Where do you want it to―”
“No. Answer. My. Question.” And I wait.
There’s terror in her eyes, and then her gaze drops to the tabletop. “I can’t say yes. You shouldn’t even be thinking about that with me.”
“I didn’t
ask your permission. I asked if that’s where you want the relationship to go. Well? Answer me.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she whispers, “More than anything.”
When I hold out my upturned palm, she places her hand in mine. “Me too, babe,” I whisper to her. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and yes―that’s what I want too.”
“But we can’t. Not with the … stuff. We can’t.”
I just nod. “Yes we can. We can have a simple commitment ceremony until you think the coast is clear or whatever you’d call it. We don’t have to invite anybody. We can do it ourselves. But that won’t make it any less real. Will that work?” She nods as big tears roll down her face. “Because I love you, Cirilla. You’re the angel who came into my life and changed everything.”
“I love you too, babe. You’re the man of my dreams.”
I’ve got to get through this damn event, and then we’ve got a ceremony to plan. Shouldn’t be a problem. God knows I’ll have plenty of event organization experience by then.
Chapter Ten
I’m so nervous that I can’t eat. The day has been spent making sure everything is where it’s supposed to be, flowers were delivered, the catering company has everything set up right, the stage is ready and all the electronics are in place, and every table looks perfect. There are pipe and drape tattoo booths all around the room, with the tattoo artists’ names on them so everyone can identify which booth they want to go to. Our celebrity tattoo artist has a triple-sized booth, and she’ll have two assistants who’ll be helping her prep people and maybe even do part of the work before the client is passed to her.
The recording artist who’s doing the mini concert shows up an hour early for a sound check, so I go ahead and feed him and his crew. Super nice guy. His wife and little girl are with him, and they’re gorgeous.
At ten before the hour, the doors are closed but there’s a line forming outside. Felicia comes running up to me and for a second, I think something is horribly wrong. “Oh, god, Brian!”
“What?” I almost shout.
“This is AMAZING! There are at least two thousand people waiting to get in. Two thousand! How many tickets did we sell?”
“We sold eight hundred for the dinner and with the ones who’re just coming for hors d’oeuvres and drinks, over four thousand.”
“This is … oh, god, I can’t believe it. This will be a record year and it’ll put HQSeattle on everyone’s lips! Well done!” she gushes.
“Thanks. I had a lot of help.”
“Doesn’t matter. You got it done. This is going to be so much fun!” she squeals and claps before scurrying away. God, I find her hideously annoying, but the woman is good at what she does.
Cirilla’s been circling the tables, making sure the silverware is perfect, the candles are all lit, and the flowers look just right. It’s so sad. She’s wearing this sack-like brown dress with gathered sleeves that end in a buttoned cuff and a wide belt around the middle, and she looks like she just stepped out of a geriatric commercial from back in the seventies. I said nothing. I’m not going to push it. She’s here, and that’s all that matters.
“Five minutes, people!” I yell, and I get responses from all over the ballroom. Everyone says they’re ready.
There are two lines, one for those with tickets that include dinner, and one for those without. I think every member of the organization came out tonight, and they’ve all got seating charts to help get everyone where they need to go. The tickets are color-coded to send them to the right table grouping, and from there, the volunteers help them find their seats. When we get half of the diners seated, we open the doors for the general admission and start letting people in.
Thirty minutes later, the place is buzzing. We’ve got someone at every tattoo booth, and the finger foods and drinks are flying. Everyone gets one drink on the house and after that, it’s cash bar. That includes diners, so they get two. There’s a lot of booze going around in here―a lot. The catering service is refilling the food and the recording artist is getting ready to go on. I’m pleased to find out he invited the other recording artist in attendance to do a couple of numbers with him―very nice gesture on his part.
“Do you need me to do anything?” I hear Cirilla say from behind me.
“Not that I can―”
“Brian! I want you to meet Mandy Connors.” She’s one of the biggest names in the movie industry, and Felicia’s got her by the hand. Her husband, Cameron Morrison, an equally-famous actor, is right behind her. “Mandy, this is Brian Zimmer. He’s the mastermind behind this event.”
“Mr. Zimmer,” she says and extends a hand, which I take gently. “This is so much fun! I’m going over to Katie’s booth and sign up to get a tattoo from her. I hear she’s donating two thousand dollars for every tattoo.”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s been very generous to us. Just be sure to say, ‘I want a tat for tots.’ That’s the magic phrase.”
“Well, I see a few people I know here tonight, and I’m going to challenge all of them. Is that okay? Could I borrow the mic for a minute?”
“Sure!” I take her elbow and lead her to the stage, then tell one of the roadies, “She needs to use the mic.”
“Come on up, darlin’,” he drawls and helps her up the stage stairs. When she takes the mic, there’s applause.
“Hi! I’m Mandy Connors.” There’s cheering and whistling. “Thank you! So I see Augusta and Veronica,” she says, pointing to more celebrities, and they wave. “I also see Curtis, and Ryan, and Phillip back there somewhere. Tyrell, are you here? There you are! I’m issuing you a challenge. Tonight, I’m donating ten thousand dollars. Up me. Let’s see how high we can get it. It’s for the kids!” she yells, and the crowd cheers. I watch as, one by one, the movie and TV actors and actresses, all natives of Seattle, come to the mic and pledge more than the one before.
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say. There are eight of them and by the time they’re done, they’ve donated over one hundred thousand dollars. To say I’m amazed would be an understatement. Each of them comes to me, thanks me for the work, and we have our photo taken by the photographer for The Seattle Globe-Tribune. I see Felicia off to the side, and her mouth is hanging open. I’ve actually done it. I’ve pulled it off. I’ve broken the former events standard for Seattle.
As I stand talking to first one celebrity and another, people keep coming up to the photographer so she can take pics of their tattoos, and there is some beautiful ink being done. True art. I tell myself that if I have just a few minutes, I’ll go have something inked, even if it’s nothing more than a star. All my friends from college who donated come by and speak, have photos taken with me, and it feels good to know the people who were my peers back then see me being successful.
Four hours later, the recording artists have finished up and Felicia heads to the mic. I have no idea what she’s doing, but she picks it up and bangs on it with her hand. I hate when people do that. “I’d like to have your attention, please,” she calls out. “I have an announcement to make. Prior to tonight’s event, the chairman of the event committee, Brian Zimmer, did a balance sheet to show what we’d received in the way of sponsorships and what we’ve spent on this fabulous and fun evening. We’ve asked each person who pledged a donation to come and sign the register with the amount they were giving. Our lovely celebrity inker, Katie, pledged two thousand dollars for every tattoo they did tonight, and she did twelve, so you do the math. We added it up, every penny and every nickel, and tonight has been a spectacular night.” I’m holding my breath, praying it’s going to be good. “So many businesses here in town came up to the register and pledged generous donations, and that’s what makes Seattle so great. Ladies and gentlemen, our grand total for tonight is four hundred and eighty-three thousand dollars!”
My knees almost buckle. I did it. I actually did it. I pulled it off. And then there’s a voice, one I know but can’t place, that calls out from the back of the room, “
You’re not finished yet.” I turn, not knowing who I’m going to see, and when my eyes finally find him, they fill with tears.
To the podium walks Gerald Patterson, senior partner at Patterson, Zimmer, and Flynn, my grandfather’s law firm. Grandfather’s been dead for almost eleven years now, but the firm still bears his name and always will. Gerald walks straight to the mic and takes it from Felicia’s hands. “Brian, I know you’re here. I saw you while ago. Come on up here.”
It’s a struggle to stay upright as I make my way to the stage, and when I’m there, he takes my hand, shakes it, and gives me a big hug. With one hand planted firmly between my shoulder blades, he begins. “I’ve known this gentleman his entire life. His grandfather was the Zimmer in Patterson, Zimmer, and Flynn. I didn’t realize until tonight that he’d moved back to Seattle, but this city can certainly use him. His grandfather was a fine man, and Brian has followed in his footsteps. His dad, well,” Gerald says with a wink, “was a scoundrel.” My dad was a stockbroker. Yep. He was a scoundrel, all right. He stops and turns to look at me. “Four hundred and eighty-three thousand dollars, huh? You worked hard for that, didn’t you?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, sir, I did!”
“Then I’m going to reward your hard work. Patterson, Zimmer, and Flynn pledges seventeen thousand dollars to the children’s cancer center here. Well done, young Zimmer!”
Completely Mine: Bliss Series, Book Four Page 19
