Naughty

by Velvet

  Walking beyond the gray slate foyer into the living room, Kennedy was struck by the dazzling view of the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. The white lights that adorned the perimeter of the bridges glimmered in the night like facets on a diamond. “Wow!” she said, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows for a closer look. “Great view.”

  “Actually, that was a major selling point for me. This view at night is so romantic.” He snuggled up close behind, slipped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck. “But watching the sunrise above the river in the morning is priceless.”

  She wanted to ask if that was an invitation to spend the night, but didn’t want to tempt herself. Nestled in his arms, she said softly, “I’m sure watching the sunrise is amazing. I would love to see it sometime.” The moment she made that last statement, she realized that it sounded suggestive.

  Nigel turned her toward him and began kissing her passionately. “You’re more than welcome to stay over tonight and watch the sun come up,” he said, coming up for air.

  “Can I have a rain check?” As much as she wanted to fuck Nigel, she was determined not to sabotage their relationship by jumping into bed with him too soon.

  Sensing her hesitation, he kissed her on the forehead and said, “Whatever you want, Kennedy; there’s no rush. Like I told you before, I’m not looking for a random booty call. I really like your company, and getting to know you outside of the bedroom is important to me. Now don’t get me wrong, I am a hot-blooded male, and I hope you don’t make me wait too long.” He smiled.

  She reached up and kissed him again. “Don’t worry, Nigel, I won’t.”

  “Good. Now, I hope you’re hungry,” he said, switching gears. He grabbed her hand. “Come on into the kitchen and keep me company while I finish dinner.”

  “What’s on the menu?” she asked, sitting at the stainless-steel counter, glad to have the counter as a barrier between them. She felt safe and sexy in his arms, and didn’t trust herself when their bodies touched. On one hand, she was ready to throw her casual sex rule right out of his floor-to-ceiling window, but on the other hand, she knew waiting was the right thing to do.

  “Grilled snapper, asparagus, and new potatoes sprinkled with fresh parsley,” he said, uncorking a bottle of Chardonnay.

  “Yum. Sounds good. Who knew you were a chef?” she teased.

  Handing her a glass of wine, he smiled. “I’m no Emeril, but I got skills.” He winked.

  “I just love his show. Do you watch it?”

  “I’ll never tell.” He chuckled.

  “I bet you TiVo every episode, Chef Boyardee.” She laughed.

  “How’d you guess?” He winked. “I may not be Emeril, but my snapper recipe is finger-licking good.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. I’m starv—” Before she could finish her sentence, the phone rang.

  He picked up the cordless that sat on the counter, looked at the caller ID display, and put the phone back on the counter without answering the call. The phone rang three more times before going into voice mail. “Work.” He looked over at her. “My boss doesn’t seem to understand the concept of private time.”

  “Some people need to get a life.”

  “Exactly.” He turned his attention to the bunch of fresh asparagus on the cutting board and began slicing off the ends. “Dinner’ll be ready in a few.”

  Relaxing on the high-backed bar stool, she watched Nigel take command of the kitchen like a pro. He lit the stovetop grill, took the fish out of a bowl of marinade, and placed the filets on the rack once it was piping hot. After brushing the asparagus with olive oil and a sprinkling of garlic powder, he placed the spears alongside the fish. A few turns later, he was plating up their dinner.

  “How many potatoes do you want?” he asked, reaching for a pot filled with petite new potatoes.

  “Just one. I’m trying to cut back on the carbs.” She inhaled the enticing aroma of the fish. “Dinner surely smells good.”

  “Let’s hope it tastes good,” he said, placing plates on the counter.

  They chatted over dinner with Sade playing softly in the background. Kennedy had to admit that Nigel could throw down. The snapper was grilled to perfection, not overcooked, but succulent and flaky.

  “Well, what’s the verdict, Emeril Lagasse?” he joked.

  “I’ve got to give it to you, Nigel, you got skills,” she said, polishing off the last asparagus spear.

  “Thank you, thank you.” He bowed his head in a mock subservient gesture. “Everything I learned, I learned from Julia Child. She was my culinary guru. Would you care for seconds?”

  Kennedy rubbed her stomach. “No thank you. I’m full as a drum.”

  “Not too full for dessert I hope,” he said, clearing the dishes. “Like Bill Cosby says,” he changed his voice and facial expression to impersonate Mr. Cosby, “there’s always room for J.E.L.L.O.”

  She cracked up laughing. “You sound just like him. And yes, I would love a little Je . . .”

  Ring. It was the phone again. And once again, he looked at the caller ID and let the call go into voice mail.

  Kennedy wanted to tell him to just answer the damn thing. Obviously his boss wasn’t going to let up. But she didn’t want to get in his business. She knew how territorial men could be about their work, so she decided to excuse herself. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  Nigel stared at the phone in his hand. He barely looked at her when he said, “Down the hall, first door on the left.”

  Kennedy got up and proceeded in that direction. Stopping her in her tracks was a series of Jacob Lawrence paintings mounted on the wall that led to the bathroom. The paintings were similar to his famous Migration series. She couldn’t tell if they were originals or prints. She quickly surmised that they must be prints, because originals would cost a fortune. After admiring the paintings, she continued on to the bathroom. As she was primping in the mirror, the phone rang again, except this time Nigel picked up. Kennedy clicked off the bathroom light and opened the door. Walking down the hall, she heard him saying:

  “I told you earlier that I don’t have that information here. I’ll get it to you first thing in the morning. Yes, I know time is of the essence.” He turned around, startled to see Kennedy standing in the doorway. “Look, I’ve got to run.” He hung up abruptly, without saying good-bye, and simply said, “Work.”

  Over bowls of raspberry Jell-O and cream, he didn’t say much. Kennedy tried to make a lame joke about him pureeing the raspberries by hand, but he didn’t return her quip with one of his wisecracks. His mood had completely changed. He was no longer joking around, but seemed preoccupied with his thoughts.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, picking up on his attitude shift.

  “I’m fine. It’s just some issues going on at work that’s starting to get to me.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?” she asked with concern.

  “Not really. I don’t want to bore you,” he said, looking down, and then began twirling his spoon in the Jell-O mixture.

  They sat silent for a few minutes. Obviously Nigel was lost in thought, and Kennedy began to feel as if it were time to go. “Thanks for dinner, Nigel,” she said, and stood to leave.

  “My pleasure. Do you have to leave already?”

  Kennedy didn’t really want to leave, but she didn’t want to wear out her welcome either. “Yeah, it’s getting late, and I should let you get some sleep.”

  He walked around the counter, took her chin in his hand, leaned down, and kissed her lips. “I’d much rather cuddle on the couch with you and sip an after-dinner drink,” he said, his romantic mood returning.

  The thought of snuggling up with Nigel and drinking a nice port or cognac was enticing. Too enticing. Kennedy didn’t trust herself. “No, I think we better call it a night.”

  “You’re right, because I don’t think I would be able to just stop at kissing. Let me call down for your car.” He walked her to the door and lightly kissed her
again. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  On the way home, Kennedy couldn’t help but think how the mood of the evening suddenly shifted once Nigel answered the phone. Pre-call, he was the quick-witted, easygoing guy that she had come to know, but post-call, his mood was cold and dark. Even though he tried to shift back and become romantic again, his Dr. Jekyll transformation made her wonder what could possibly be that intense at work that would make him tense up so quickly.

  20

  TYLER’S REP Simon had called her a few days ago with a lead to a freelance assignment. Simon had an old friend who was looking for a discreet designer to work on a temporary basis. Tyler had done the preliminary design mock-ups, and was now ready for the interview. She took a taxi to the train, and the train into the city. After arriving in Penn Station, she took the subway uptown. She missed the convenience of the city. In Atlanta, the public transportation was horrible, and you had to drive everywhere, but in New York, it was easier and faster to hop on the train. Tyler hadn’t been uptown to Washington Heights in years, and was amazed at the transformation of the neighborhood. What were once abandoned buildings and crack-infested neighborhoods were now renovated million-dollar homes and trendy storefront shops.

  She fished the address of the building out of her jacket pocket and glanced down at the paper. Tyler made a right on Broadway and walked over to Riverside Drive. Simon had told her once she got there to call the owner, so he could come down and let her in. Since it wasn’t regular business hours, there would be no one at the door. Tyler did as instructed, and waited outside on the stoop. A few minutes later, the door opened.

  “Hi there. You must be Tyler Reed?”

  “Yes, that would be me.” She smiled.

  “Come on in.” He stepped aside. “I’m Trey Curtis.”

  Tyler walked into the foyer and was struck by the opulence of the interior. From what she could see, everything seemed to be custom-made, from the brocade wallpaper, to the crystal chandeliers, to plush area rugs. “Wow, this place is amazing!” she marveled.

  “Thank you. When I envisioned the Black Door, I envisioned a club where the most well-bred socialite would feel comfortable. I spared no expense in the decorations. As far as I’m concerned, attention to detail is key.”

  Being an artist, Tyler understood exactly where he was coming from. “I totally agree.”

  “Come on; let me show you around.” Trey gave her the grand tour, starting on the first level and continuing upstairs. Once they reached his office and sat down, he asked to see her portfolio. “Simon told me that you are one of his best artists. He and I go way back. I totally trust his opinion.”

  “Thanks. Simon said that you’re in the market for unique designs for partial face masks,” she said as he purused her work.

  “Yes, I am. And I’m sure he told you that I’m also looking for someone who has discretion. This is a private club, and I need someone who I can trust.”

  “Yes, he did. You don’t have any worries with me. I’m totally professional, and will not utter a word of this assignment to anyone,” she reassured him.

  “Good. When the club first opened, I personally designed every single member’s mask, but ever since I opened the sister club in the meat-packing district, I just don’t have the time to design all the masks myself. Membership is increasing at a rapid pace, and frankly I can’t keep up.” He flipped another page. “I like your work. The colors you use are so vibrant that the masks seem to jump off the page.”

  Tyler blushed at the compliment. She was very meticulous about her work, and took pride in every rendering. “Thank you.”

  “Since you come highly recommended, I’d love for you to assist me in designing masks for the Black Door. I’ll start you off with a list of twenty. I’ll furnish you with a personality description of the new members. To ensure each member’s anonymity, I can’t provide you with their names, only a description of what they do for a living, fantasies they may have, and any other pertinent information. I hope that would be enough for you to get an idea of what they’re like.”

  “Yes. I could definitely work with that.” Tyler smiled, eager to get going.

  “Good. Well, I’d like for you to design the masks based on their individual personalities. Since no two masks are alike, it should be a nice challenge.”

  “I love challenges.”

  “Great.” He reached across the desk and shook her hand. “Here’s my card with my number on it, in case you need to call with any questions. I’ll call Simon and hammer out the financials.”

  “Sounds good.” Tyler stood up and put his business card in her jacket pocket. “Thanks, Trey. It was nice meeting you, and I look forward to working with you.”

  Tyler bounced out of the club on a cloud of excitement. Things were finally starting to look up for her. She had gotten a new assignment, and soon she’d get a paycheck. She didn’t want to exhaust her savings. She wanted to add to it, so that she could eventually get a place of her own. Tyler wanted nothing more than to have her own home, and someone in it to love. She thought that she and Liz had the perfect life, but it turned out to be nothing more than a big lie. Tyler wanted another relationship, but she was going to take her time and not rush into anything until the right person came along. Yes, things were finally going her way. Since doing Naomi the babysitting favor, she’d been a bit more hospitable. Not that her sister-in-law was breaking out the Wedgwood and Lalique for a formal dinner service, but on the other hand, she hadn’t made any more gay comments, or served Tyler her walking papers either.

  By the time she got back to Long Island, her stomach was growling with hunger pains. I need some fuel. Maybe a turkey sandwich or two will regenerate my brain cells before I start working. Tyler opened the front door and was making her way to the kitchen when she heard Naomi talking on the phone. She stopped in the hallway and eavesdropped.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t slept with Nigel yet. You guys have been going out for a while now, what are you waiting for? I fucked Jacob on the first date. We even fucked during one of his business flights. Of course that’s when he was still a Freak of the Week.”

  “Ugh.” Tyler cringed at the thought of her brother having sex on an airplane. TMI—Too Much Information. Tyler wasn’t interested in hearing any more about her brother’s love life. She started walking again, but stopped short when Naomi said something that caught her attention.

  “Now that you’re dating, Ms. Thang, don’t forget about the book club. If you drop out, there’d be no one left but me. And as much as I enjoy my own company, it would be difficult to have a book club discussion all by my lonesome. Did you finish reading A Few Dollars and a Dream? . . . Good. Have you found any recruits yet? . . . Me neither, but I’m still looking.”

  Bingo! Here’s my chance to befriend Naomi, so that she can see that just because I date women, I’m not a bad person. I may be gay, but I’m as normal as they come, Tyler thought. “I’m joining the book club. I’m joining the book club,” she sang silently, clapping her hands quietly. Loaded with this information, Tyler turned around and jetted back out the door. She had no idea where the closest bookstore was located, but chances were good that there was a Barnes and Noble at the local mall. She took their extra car and drove to the mall, and sure enough, the B&N logo was on the directory.

  “Excuse me,” Tyler said to the information clerk, once inside the store, “do you have a copy of A Few Dollars and a Dream?”

  “Who’s the author?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I just know the name of the book.” Suddenly her heart began to race. What if I can’t find the book? Then what?

  “No problem, I’ll search by title,” said the clerk, putting Tyler’s unfounded fears to rest. After typing in the title, the clerk scanned the computer screen and said, “We have one copy left. It should be in the back under New Fiction, listed by the author’s last name, which is Birkenson. A. B. Birkenson.”

  “Tha
nk you,” Tyler said, dashing to the rear of the store. Scanning the alphabetized row of books, she found A Few Dollars on the second shelf. It must have been her lucky day, because just as the clerk said, there was only one copy left. Tyler grabbed the novel and took it to the checkout counter. She thought about going home to plow through the pages, but didn’t want to get caught cracking open a new book. If Naomi knew she had rushed out and bought this book, she would no doubt become suspicious and wonder why Tyler was suddenly interested in reading their book club selection. Tyler paid for the book and found a cozy corner seat at the in-house coffee shop. A few hours and a few cappuccinos later, she was two chapters shy of finishing, but ready to discuss the plot nonetheless. Tyler removed the cover and slightly crinkled it, then dog-eared a few pages, giving the novel that well-read look. Getting rid of the incriminating evidence, she tossed the receipt and shopping bag into the trash, tucked the book under her arm, and headed home.

  The house was quiet when Tyler returned. Naomi probably went to get Noah from preschool. Tyler looked around the kitchen for an inconspicuous place to leave the book. It would be too obvious if she left it on the counter in clear view. The solarium. That’s it, I’ll leave the book in the solarium. Naomi relaxed in there most nights before going to bed. Naw. She changed her mind. That’s still too obvious. Tyler leaned against the counter trying to think of the perfect place, when the caffeine that she consumed earlier began to stimulate her bladder. She tore off her jacket, threw it on the back of a chair, and rushed into the powder room adjacent to the kitchen, and the idea hit her. I’ll leave the book in here. She glanced around the small space. Perfect. Who doesn’t read in the bathroom? No sooner had she put the book on the windowsill and walked back into the kitchen than Naomi and Noah came through the back door.