by Adam Mitzner
“Good. Enjoy your time with Eve,” Sam said. “But not too much, okay?”
22.
After the bottle was empty and the caviar consumed, Gwen and Will went back to her place. Gwen was certain that the nights where she hosted would end the moment Will acquired a bed, and she couldn’t help but wonder what Will’s acquisition of real estate meant for their future.
Three months ago, Gwen had been contemplating getting a cat just so there’d be a live presence when she came home, and now she was thinking about getting married and then soon after getting pregnant. She was terrified by the thought of making that type of commitment, but her fears were outweighed by her excitement about the future, and she owed that entirely to Will. He’d made her less scared about the unknown, more willing to envision a future that might actually exceed her every expectation.
Gwen had never engaged in any long-term planning with Peter, and they’d been together for nearly two years. But Will was not Peter—in so many ways. Not the least of which was that she was in love with Will. Not just a little bit either. The head-over-heels way that she’d always imagined being in love with someone. The way she felt a jolt of happiness whenever she saw his face. Just as telling was the fact that whenever they were apart she longed for them to be together, like an addict needing a fix.
And if that wasn’t reason enough for her to cast away the last shred of doubt about her life, she’d soon be moving into a home that Oprah might live in, with a man she not only loved but who was doing his damnedest to shake from her the worst part of herself—the negativity that had seemed to define her for as long as she could remember.
Still, old habits die hard. Gwen couldn’t help but notice that Will had been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride back to her place. He hadn’t shared what Sam wanted to privately discuss, but Gwen assumed it was business that she wouldn’t have any interest in anyway. Gwen had hoped that Will would explain the situation on his own, but when he slid under the covers beside her without having done so, she raised the issue.
“Did something happen with Sam tonight? You’ve been awfully quiet since he pulled you aside.”
“No,” he said quickly, but with a smile that might have been construed to suggest otherwise.
“What did Sam say to you when the two of you were on the terrace?”
“Nothing, really. He’s going out of town for a few days and wants me to hold down the fort. That kind of thing. Although he did open up about something. He told me that he lost his father when he was ten. That’s the same age that I was when my dad died.”
“Is that right? About Sam, I mean. I know that’s how old you were when your father died.”
“His mother died when he was sixteen, so he’s got me beat there.”
“Makes it a little clearer why he took such a liking to you so quickly, I suppose. I mean, you’re from practically the same hometown and then you both suffered the same tragedy. He must see a lot of himself in you, Will.”
Will nodded in agreement. “The mention of my dad, I guess, has made me a little introspective about everything that’s happened. And what I’m hoping is still going to happen. I wish my parents had met you, Gwen. They would have loved you as much as I do.”
“That’s a very nice thing for you to say. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the opportunity to meet them. If I had, I would have told them that they did a pretty superlative job of raising a son. They’d be so proud of all you’ve accomplished, Will.”
But rather than seeming comforted by that, Will still looked pensive. “Am I missing something, Gwen?”
The question took her by surprise.
“About what?”
“About Sam. I know you think I’m some head-in-the-clouds optimist, always thinking the best of people—”
“Well, aren’t you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am. But I also like to think I’m not a complete idiot either. And this thing with Sam . . . It’s happened so fast and there’s still so much I don’t really understand about his business.”
“Will. You told me that Compliance has blessed everything, right?” When he nodded, she said, “So you’re all good.”
Gwen recognized that it was an odd change of position for them. Since they’d met, Will had been the hopeless romantic, believing that all he had to do was imagine it and it could come true, whereas Gwen had been looking for danger around every corner.
He shook his head as if he wasn’t sure. “I don’t know. Sometimes, it just all seems too good to be true. I’m half waiting for it all to come crashing down on me.”
That sounded like something she’d say. So much so that she felt compelled to play Will’s part now, and assure him that everything would be fine.
“It won’t,” she said softly. “And if you won’t take my word for it, allow me to quote the great Willy Wonka. Remember what happened to the boy who got everything he wished for?”
“What?”
Gwen laughed softly. “That’s exactly what Charlie said when Wonka posed the question. And the answer is, of course, ‘He lived happily ever after.’”
“Is that right?”
“It can be.”
“Thank you, Gwen. There’s a part of me that sometimes thinks it’s not real, and if I didn’t have you to share it with, I swear, I’d think I was dreaming.”
Gwen playfully pinched him.
“Ouch.”
“Not dreaming,” she said with a smile.
23.
Will had never heard of the D&D building, which naturally meant that when Eve mentioned that was where they were heading, he had no idea what either D represented. It wasn’t until he was standing in front of it that he saw the plaque beside the door: DECORATOR AND DESIGNER BUILDING.
In the lobby, a security guard sat behind a desk. A couple who looked to be in their early thirties, with a child in a stroller in tow, stood before him.
“Not open to the public,” the security guard barked. He looked past the young family to Eve and Will and broke into a wide grin. “Eve, so nice to see you again.”
“Good to see you too, Guillermo. This is my client, Will Matthews.”
Eve barely broke stride as she waltzed past the checkpoint. Will followed her into the elevator.
“First stop, sixth floor. Holly Hunt,” Eve said.
“Like the actress?” Will asked.
“What?”
“She was in that Batman-and-Superman movie.”
Eve laughed. “No. That was Holly Hunter. This one is a designer. Hence why she has space in the D&D building. I thought it would be a good place for us to start because her stuff is both contemporary and comfortable. Clean lines, masculine without being cold. Kind of like you, Will.”
Once they were in the showroom, Will decided that, for the life of him, he couldn’t discern any difference between the merchandise bearing Holly Hunt’s name and what he’d seen at Room & Board, except that none of the items before him was adorned with a price tag and Room & Board wasn’t shy about indicating the cost of its products. Of course, Will knew that such secrecy only meant that everything he was about to buy would be extremely expensive.
“I’m a believer that you can’t have too many individual seating spaces in a room,” Eve said. “That’s why I strongly discourage sectional sofas. A sofa, no matter what size, only ever seats two. For your living room, because the space is so large, I’m thinking that you’ll need two sofas, seven feet each, that will face each other. Then two club chairs, and two armchairs to round out the space. That way you have seating for eight, and that’s all you need before it becomes a party—after that, everyone stands.”
Eve glided around the showroom, reaching for swatches of fabric and draping them over the arms of the upholstered furniture. Will selected the one he favored, but agreed to go with Eve’s choice when she told him that his was a mistake.
Two hours later, Will had spent nearly a hundred grand. What he had to show for that sum was living room furniture that
sat eight, and a dining table and chairs that accommodated twice that many.
After Holly Hunt, they ventured downtown. Not to a showroom or even a store, however. Instead, it was the third floor of a brownstone. They were buzzed in and climbed the three flights of stairs, until they stood before an unmarked red door. Before Eve knocked, a man opened it.
“Eve, my darling. So nice to see you again.”
He was of Indian descent, with a full beard, black as coal. He was wearing a turban in the tradition of the Sikhs, but a Western business suit—and a finely tailored one at that.
“Ketan, always a pleasure,” Eve said, kissing the man on both cheeks. “This is my client, Will Matthews. We’re hoping to find some truly extraordinary rugs. Preferably one-of-a-kind pieces that will increase in value.”
“You’re in the right place. I just got a new shipment in. Spectacular pieces. Many of them fifty to a hundred years old.”
Once inside, they entered a space that could have been used as a ballroom for weddings, except for the fact that the floors were covered with piles of rugs. Ketan clapped his hands, and out of a back room emerged two very large men. They also appeared to be of Indian descent, but neither was wearing any head covering, and they were dressed more casually.
“Let’s start here,” Ketan said, moving over to one of the piles. “These are mainly Tabriz. Some are center medallion, but not all.”
The two men each went to opposite ends of the pile and began to turn over the corners of the rugs. Every so often, Eve would ask the men to pull one out, which would require the services of two other men. Will would then take a look at the rug in all its glory and pronounce judgment.
In the end, four rugs made the cut, with Eve’s promise to Ketan that they’d be back for more after seeing how the four they were buying captured the light in the apartment. Ketan promised delivery by the next day. After Will handed over a credit card, the transaction was complete.
Ligne Roset was located around the corner, on Park Avenue South. Eve thought he might find a bed there that he liked.
After walking the floor a few times, Will stopped in front of a bed in the corner with a huge blue fabric headboard that resembled the sail on a medium-size boat.
“Very nice,” Eve said. “But you need to test it out. European beds don’t use a box spring, so there’s less support.”
Will sat down on the edge and bounced lightly. “This seems fine.”
“That’s no way to test a bed that you’re going to spend half your life on.”
Eve plopped down beside him, and immediately lay prone. She tapped the mattress beside her, urging Will to do likewise. When he hesitated, she said. “C’mon. Lay down. I’m not going to bite you.”
Will did as he was told. Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop himself from taking in Eve’s scent. She didn’t smell perfumy, though. There was nothing floral or spicy about her. The aroma reminded him of very ripe cherries.
The next thing he knew, she had taken his hand. Something in Will’s brain said he should pull away, but the message didn’t run down his arm. To break her hold, he turned, propping himself up on his elbow. Eve’s only reaction to his withdrawal was to face him, mirroring his pose, although she did so while flashing a smile that could have launched a thousand ships.
“So, can you see it all happening here?” Eve asked.
From first appearances, Sushi of Gari was nothing like the restaurants Sam frequented. In fact, it looked no different from any midprice sushi place that could be found along Second Avenue. The tables were a blond ash wood, and the chairs lacked upholstery.
“Upstairs,” Eve said. “We sit at the bar.”
Although Will initially thought a bar meant alcohol, he quickly realized that she was referencing the sushi bar. It sat ten. Aside from an oversize man on one end reading a hardcover edition of the latest Harlan Coben, it was empty. Eve took the corner two stools on the other end.
“We’re each going to have the omakase,” she said to the waiter. “We have no dietary restrictions. And sake, please.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Cold,” she said.
“James Bond drinks it hot,” Will said.
Eve laughed at the reference. That hearty, sexy laugh she used when she was actually amused.
“Maybe in the 1960s, when that was the preferred method. Advances in distillation make it more like wine now. Connoisseurs these days ask for it chilled, but not too cold.”
“A woman who knows her sake.”
“I know a lot of things, Will.”
She uttered the line in a Mae West way, suggesting a sexual knowledge. Then again, Eve had a way about her that made everything she said sound sexual. But like that line by Jessica Rabbit—I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way—Will wondered if he was the one imbuing her words with innuendo that she didn’t intend.
“What did you order for us?” he asked, an effort to quickly change the subject from things in which Eve held a special expertise. “The Omarosa?”
“You’re adorable, do you know that?” Without waiting for an answer as to whether he was aware of his adorableness, Eve said, “It’s not Omarosa, like the Apprentice woman. It’s pronounced ohm-ah-kas-ay. The itamae—that means sushi chef—selects what we get. He’ll just give us a single sushi piece every so often until we tell him we’ve had enough. Like a tasting menu. My favorite part of the experience is that you have to eat it one piece at a time. I think all restaurants should serve this way—by the bite. It makes you savor and anticipate.”
Every few minutes, the itamae did exactly that, placing a single sushi piece in the middle of a glass plate and setting it down in front of them. Each piece was architectural, evoking a Shinto temple, with a base of rice below vibrantly colored fish, a dollop of something exotic on top of it, like a crown of caviar, potato crisp, or foie gras.
“Did you acquire your sushi knowledge from Sam?” Will asked when they had almost finished their second glass of sake.
“No. The opposite, actually. I taught him. And about much more than just raw fish too.”
She smiled, once again in a come-hither way. Will recognized that this was going down a path he shouldn’t be traveling, and yet there was something about Eve that rendered him unable to resist.
“How are things between you and Gwen?” she asked.
He wondered if she was probing or reminding him that he had a girlfriend. “Good. Really good, in fact,” he said.
“The beginning is always the best part. Sam was very romantic when we first got together. Gifts, vacations. Then it slows down, and before you know it, it’s gone. And the weirdest thing is that you can’t remember when everything turned. You know what I mean?”
Will actually didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine a time when things with Gwen would be any less perfect than they were right now.
As if Will’s failure to respond were an admonition, Eve quickly said, “Don’t get me wrong. I know that the honeymoon never lasts. I’m only saying it would be nice if it did. Sometimes I miss that type of attention, the being wooed part.” She laughed. “Does anyone say ‘wooed’ anymore?”
“I certainly don’t.”
“Well, if Will Matthews from Cheboygan, Michigan, doesn’t say it, then I’m reasonably sure it is not said by anyone, anywhere.” They shared a smile, but then Eve retreated back into her own mind. “The ironic thing is that when another man pays me the least bit of attention, Sam gets crazy.”
Will now regretted that second glass of sake. He could already tell his judgment was becoming impaired, and he worried that the full effects of the alcohol had yet to kick in.
Eve asked that Will accompany her back to her place. Will didn’t think he could back out of an expected gesture of chivalry, but he was determined that the evening would end in the taxi. He would kiss Eve good night on the cheek, and then tell the driver to take him back to Gwen’s place. But when the taxi came to a stop and he delivered his line, Eve shook her head and
smiled in a particularly lascivious way.
“I’m not done with you yet, Will Matthews. There’s something I need to discuss with you . . .”
For the first time, he thought he heard sloppiness in her speech. She was half his body weight, and had matched him sake for sake. Considering that he was certainly feeling it, he could only imagine that the alcohol was hitting Eve that much harder.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Eve.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Will, seriously. It’s important.”
This time she spoke clearly. He weighed rejecting the request a second time, and actually thought the word was going to come out, but instead he said, “Okay, but just for a minute.”
Inside the elevator, Eve pressed the button for the fourth floor, but Will’s better judgment finally kicked in and he countermanded her, hitting the P on the top of the panel.
“We can talk in my place,” he said. “I’d like to stay in the fresh air, if that’s okay. The sake is making me a little queasy.”
In New York City it’s never dark enough to see the stars, but it was a clear night, allowing visibility for miles. It was warm too, although Will couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the sake that had rendered him impervious to the elements.
They sat side by side on the terrace sofa, their legs touching. It felt like a game of chicken, except that instead of two cars crashing, the end result here would be Will and Eve colliding into each other.
“Will, I wanted to tell you something. Something important.”
“Okay.”
“It’s about Sam.”
This time Will only nodded. He didn’t want to give even Eve permission to say something that Sam might wish had gone unsaid.
“He’s not exactly who you think he is.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Eve. And before you explain yourself, I feel the need to say that maybe I’m not the right person for you to be confiding in. I like you, very much, in fact, but I owe my livelihood to Sam.”
Eve laughed. “We all owe so much to Sam Abaddon, don’t we?”
