by Keary Taylor
It cost the company fifteen dollars to fax everything over, but not a soul would care considering how much money I am about to bring it. Once the confirmation page comes through, I take a seat in the lobby and pull out my phone.
There is a nice fat dollar amount that has just been deposited into my bank account.
I text Gretchen that the deal is done and she simply texts back a line of exclamation points.
She should be excited. I voluntarily give her five percent of every bonus I receive. After all, I couldn’t accomplish as much as I do without her help.
I decide to reward myself with an expensive dinner, courtesy of the company. Sushi seems to fit the bill. I don’t mind eating alone one bit, for tonight, myself is awesome enough company. I have the urge to tell the people who are looking at me like I’m pathetic for being on my own a bit about what I just did today. People get impressed when you start throwing nine digits in their faces.
I decide to top off the celebration with a new pair of shoes and some other shopping and by the time I head back for the hotel it is after ten. When I get there, Julian is nowhere in sight.
I hope he had as awesome of a day as I did, but I kind of doubt it.
While out shopping today, I picked up a new pair of pajamas. I hate to even sleep in them considering their price tag, but who can resist the soft satin? The blue nightgown flows over my stomach and thighs and hangs just long enough to not show anything scandalous, and just short enough for me to admire my own form in the mirror.
I’m out like a light, utterly satisfied before eleven.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The smell of forbidden bacon draws me from dreams of success and fortune. I sit up in the king sized bed and squint against the bright light. The clock on the nightstand reads ten o’clock.
Through the frosted windows that separate the bedroom from the sitting area, I see movement. For a few moments, I had forgotten that I had a hotel guest and that I wasn’t alone for this trip. Being quiet as I possibly can, I slip into the bathroom and check myself in the mirror.
My hair is falling in soft, somewhat messy waves, courtesy of the way I styled my hair yesterday. It hangs soft and loose about five inches past my shoulders. I was too keyed up last night to remember to wash off my makeup, so it still lines my eyes, slightly smudged, but not in a bad way.
My shoulders are exposed under the thin straps of the nightgown and the majority of my thighs are too. But yesterday was a great day, and so far I am feeling in a good mood. I decide to not be self-conscious.
I exit the bathroom and open the doors.
Julian is standing next to a room service cart, scooping food onto a plate.
But that is certainly not what catches my eye first.
He is wearing only a pair of boxers. His upper body is blissfully exposed. He isn’t huge, but he certainly has definition to him. His entire right arm is covered in a sleeve of tattoos, and his left isn’t far from it. There is a tattoo of a raven that covers most of his right breast, its wings stretching up one side of his neck.
Julian’s body is a beautiful canvas.
“Good morning,” he says. His eyes trail over me for just a moment before he looks back at the food. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered room service. I wasn’t ready to be out and about yet this morning, but I am famished.”
Julian turns and hands me the plate he’s been preparing. My stomach does an immediate growl. He smiles, and this time it isn’t sad.
“No, that’s fine,” I say as I head for one of the chairs. I tuck one leg under me and settle into it. The plate is loaded with bacon, eggs, two pancakes, and crispy hash browns. While the smell makes my mouth water, I haven’t eaten this many calories for breakfast since I lived under my mother’s roof.
“How’d your meeting go yesterday?” Julian asks as he prepares himself another plate. He then sits sideways on the couch, his legs stretched out toward me across the cushions.
I try to quickly finish chewing my eggs and nod as I do. “Really good, actually,” I say after I swallow. “I got them to sign a contract.”
Julian’s face genuinely lights up. “Congratulations,” he says as he licks bacon grease off his fingers. “That’s a huge deal.”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to keep from beaming. “It is. It’s also nice to see my boss appreciated it.”
“Let me guess, you got a huge bonus,” Julian says with a laugh as he scoops up some of the hash browns.
I just chuckle and nod as I fork eggs into my mouth.
For a few moments, we each eat quietly. It feels relaxed, natural. I can’t help but think that if someone outside this situation were to see us, they very well might think we were a honeymooning couple.
“So,” Julian says as he wipes his hands on a napkin. “I was thinking. The beginning of this trip got off to kind of a rocky start. What do you say if we just took today easy and play the annoying tourists? Just bum around the city and have a relaxing day?”
I meet his eyes and see something I haven’t yet in them. Each of us has had a wall up since the day we met. We’ve never gotten personal, always backing away when we come too near the walls, and even though we’ve gotten physically close, we’ve kept our barriers up.
Today, there is not that barrier in Julian’s eyes.
“I’d really like that,” I say.
Considering the chance of light rain all day, I end up doing my hair in a front bouffant and a bun. Classy, yet practical if it does rain. Knowing it was likely, I packed a pair of flat black boots. One of only three pairs of shoes I own that do not have heels. I’ve also adorned a pair of skintight black leather pants, a black and white striped blouse, and a teal peacoat.
I love the smile that crosses Julian’s face when I walk out of the bathroom.
He’s dressed himself while I got ready. He’s wearing a tight pair of dark washed jeans, black boots and a black dress coat. Somehow he managed to part his hair and slick it back without the use of the bathroom.
“Shall we?” Julian asks as he grabs an umbrella from his duffle bag.
“Yeah,” I say, a truly happy smile breaking onto my face.
We make our way down to the lobby. The person working the front desk calls a goodbye as we walk past. As forecasted, there is a light drizzle already started outside.
A cab is waiting at the curb, and Julian makes no hesitation as he opens the door for me and I slide in. When Julian climbs inside, the driver takes off without being given an address.
I realize then that Julian has something specific in mind.
Being in small spaces, I am obscenely aware of everything about Julian. I can feel the warmth coming off of him, heating my already chilled frame. His hands rest lightly on his thighs and his arm is lightly brushing mine. While he stares out the window, I have the opportunity to observe him for a moment.
His hair is dark and well-trimmed. The ever present two days’ worth of beard growth hugs his chin and the sharp line he does shave it at emphasizes his jawline. His lips are on the thin side, but I am well aware of how expertly he knows how to use them.
Julian is undeniably a handsome man.
“So, where are we going?” I finally ask.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He turns and looks at me and there’s a flutter in my heart that makes the breath catch in my chest. “I hope you’ll like it.”
I feel my cheeks flush under the intensity of his eyes and a soft smile forms on his lips.
We drive for fifteen minutes and then the taxi driver pulls up to the curb at a strangely shaped building. Julian climbs out and holds the door for me. He pays the driver and we step onto the sidewalk.
Instead of going straight up, the walls of the building tip precariously out. The building is at once modern shaped and dated looking.
The sign on the side of the building reads The Bata Shoe Museum.
A smile breaks out on my face and a laugh bubbles up from my chest. I look at Julian to see him beaming as much as I a
m. I bump him with my shoulder and he wraps an arm around me and squeezes me tight for just a moment.
We enter the building and Julian pays our admission fees.
The building is fantastically modern inside, despite what the questionable exterior might have suggested. Endless glass display boxes are accompanied by themed walls behind them, hanging poster boards, and screens that display short videos.
“You’re practically glowing,” Julian whispers as we start toward the first exhibit.
“I am normally not one for museums,” I say as I lean in close to the glass. This gallery starts with shoes from the nineties and works its way back to the 1900’s. “But this is my kind of history.”
Julian chuckles and falls into step behind me.
“Can you believe I wore shoes like that in middle school?” I point out the platform tennis shoes in the display.
“Can you believe they are likely to make a reappearance when we get to the sixties?” Julian teases.
I laugh as we move to the eighties. “Oh, I’m so ashamed. It’s horrible.”
For the most part, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any of these shoes, but there are a few pairs that could be considered vintage in a good way. I find myself going through my wardrobe mentally, coming up with outfits that could match.
“I think maybe I should hold you down so you don’t float off,” Julian says as we come to the end of the 1900’s. From here we naturally flow into a room that covers the nineteenth century. “You look like you’re in heaven.”
“Thank you, Julian,” I say as I meet his eyes. “I really needed something like this. Something that isn’t business, something that is just fun. I really appreciate the effort.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says with a small nod of his head. “I hate to even bring it up, but I felt like I had some apologizing to do and to make up for.”
I shake my head and mindlessly start wandering along the closest display. “It’s not really your fault. I was letting things get too far that night too. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t always know when to stop.”
“Even so, I apologize. I’m not normally so presumptuous,” he says, keeping his voice low, so as to not be overheard. Not that there are many other people here on this Friday afternoon. “You could say I’m a little rusty. It’s been a while since I’ve been on even a single date.”
One more personal bit of information.
But considering the sweet gesture Julian extended by bringing me to the one kind of museum I would enjoy, I find I’m glad he’s sharing.
“To be honest, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been on one either,” I admit. I don’t meet his eyes when I do it, but I’m glad for his close proximity when he brushes my arm with his anyway.
“So, can we call this a do over, from here on out?” Julian asks as we come to the end of the nineteenth century. I turn and face him and he puts his hand on my arm. “Sage McCain. Would you do the honor of being my date today, to see the great city of Toronto?”
I smile and Julian’s hand slides down my arm until his fingers catch mine. “I would be happy to be your date, Julian Dohring.”
Julian crooks his arm and I slide mine through his, and arm-in-arm, we make our way toward the eighteenth century room.
This is probably my favorite room. Here we find men’s shoes with heels as high as the women’s. Some have pointy toes, some have curled tips. There is even one pair that has a plaque beneath it saying it is made of solid gold.
“How could they even walk in those?” I say as I observe a pair of armor shoes. The point of them extends a good eight inches past where the toes would end.
“That’s a good question,” Julian comments as he leans in close to observe them. “But I would not want to be kicked by someone wearing them.”
Through the rest of the museum, we see pairs of moccasins, detailed and beaded and colorful. We see jester shoes, curled and huge and a riotous rainbow. We see war shoes, with blades hidden in them and spikes attached to the soles.
And I feel like I am on cloud nine when we finally reach the end of the museum.
“Are you ready for some lunch?” Julian asks when we step out the front doors. The rain has picked up a bit since we walked inside. He lifts the umbrella and we stand close to stay under cover.
“I’m still a bit full from breakfast, but I’d like something to drink,” I say.
Julian is looking at the map on his phone. “There’s a café just two blocks this way.” He points his thumb to our left.
I enjoy the excuse to be attached to Julian so close. I once again hook my arm through his and hug to his side to avoid the rain. Something about the moisture in the air makes that signature scent of Julian’s stronger. I am sure that scent will be locked in my head for a very long time.
Julian orders a sandwich and I get a green smoothie. We pick a seat by the window so we can watch the people and the rain.
“So, how long has it really been since you’ve been on a date?” I ask as I sip on my smoothie.
Julian finishes chewing and swallows. “Um…it’s the middle of June now, and I think the last date I went on was just before Christmas. So, five and a half months?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I guess it would have been four weeks ago if your date for the Digit banquet hadn’t gotten sick.”
“True,” he says with a hesitant smile.
“That’s really not that bad though,” I say with shame in my voice. “It’s been since October of last year for me.”
“Seriously?” Julian says, his eyes widening. “What is wrong with the men in your life?”
I cross my legs under the table and don’t move my foot when it brushes the side of his leg. “Well, the last date I went on, as soon as the guy found out who I work for, obviously expected me to pay for the entire night. Which was fine. But then things took a turn for the worse and by the end of the night he called me butch.”
“Ouch. What a wad,” Julian says with a disdainful expression.
“It was worse than it sounds,” I say, my eyes drifting to the window. Every minute of that date had gotten worse and worse and so as the night drew on, so did my attitude. After dinner, I insisted I’d walk myself home. The pompous jerk was apparently expecting some after dark action, despite how terribly the date had been going, and said I obviously must be a lesbian.
“Needless to say, I was done for a while,” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “What’s your excuse?”
Julian doesn’t answer right away. He takes a bite of his sandwich and chews slowly. His eyes dart up to my face and I can see indecision in them.
“We’re on an actual date now, right? So it’s okay for us to share personal information?” His expression is hesitant.
“I just shared something pretty personal,” I say, not being mean about it. “And I think that’s one of the things you’re supposed to do when you’re on a date, yes.”
He sets his sandwich down and brushes the crumbs off his hands. He then leans forward and crosses his arms on the table. “My parents died in a carbon monoxide leak New Year’s Day,” he says, his eyes growing distant and distracted. “The housekeeper found them the next day and they called me then. I’m an only child, so everything fell to me to arrange the funeral, deal with their belongings, sell the house.”
“Oh, Julian,” I say. I instantly feel sorry for everything I’ve said in the past five minutes. My reasons for not dating recently are nothing compared to his. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” he says, his eyes focusing on mine again. “So, yeah, I ended up staying in New Mexico for over a month dealing with everything.”
“Is that where you grew up then?” I ask.
Julian nods. “My parents adopted me just after I was born. They’d tried for fifteen years to get pregnant themselves. Never happened so they decided to adopt and got me. I guess my birth mother was only like sixteen years old and the sperm donor wasn’t much older. But things were good with
my parents. It was pretty horrible to hear they died. Takes a while to get over something like that.”
“Of course,” I say, placing a hand on his arm.
Julian suddenly gives a chuckle and a smile curls on his lips. “See what happens when you go on a real date with someone? You get the sad story dump.”
I smile back and wrap my hands around my cup. “It’s kind of nice, actually. It’s been a while since I…connected with anyone.”
“What about you, any sad stories you’d like to share?”
My body locks up in certain places: my face, my chest, my stomach. But hopefully none of that shows.
Because my sad story isn’t one that I will ever share.
“Nope,” I lie. “I’m just the daughter of a plumber slash football coach and a stay at home mom. I’ve got three brothers, one who’s married, one who will be coming home on leave from the Marine’s in two weeks, and one who’s a model and lives with me.”
Julian chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, knowing you’ve got a brother that lives with you is good to know if we’re going to be dating.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” I tease. “I only agreed to one date today. Let’s not go saying we’re dating.”
Julian winks and bites into his sandwich again.
Once we are done eating lunch, we head for what is called The Path. This is an underground shopping mall. We spend four hours wandering the shops and talking, easy and relaxed. While we shop, I observe Julian, trying to get a sense for who he is as a person.
What I learn is that he has impeccable taste in clothes. He looks through a rack of similar dress coats to the one he is wearing, his eyes light up at the sight of a suit, and he buys three ties. But he also likes to dress down in jeans and a soft t-shirt.
He also seems to love music. Several times I catch him humming to the music that plays overhead. We pass a vinyl shop and I can see the longing in his eyes. I ask him multiple times if he wants to go in, but he just shakes his head and says it’s okay. He does, however, buy a Nirvana t-shirt from a shop.
