by Camryn Eyde
“New beginnings.” They clinked glasses a little too enthusiastically, and grimaced as the glass came close to cracking.
Frowning at the empty second bottle as they made to refill the glasses, Ricci said, “Want to take this conversation home?”
“Do you have wine?”
“Yes.”
“Lead the way.”
They were giggling and leaning all over each other by the time they made it back to the apartment. Gary gave them a smirk as they passed his guard post. “Have a good evening ladies.”
They giggled at him.
“Red or white?” Ricci asked, opening her cupboard to a meagre selection of wine consisting of one bottle. “Forget that. White it is!”
Tara kicked off her heels and stepped out onto the patio. “How do you do the light thing?” she asked with a slight slur.
“Be right there.” Bending over, Ricci peered into her pantry for the stash of plastic wine glasses. “Where are you you little suckers? Ah ha!” She pulled them out victoriously and joined Tara on the patio. “Here,” she thrust the opened bottle and the glasses at Tara who had begun swaying to an inaudible tune. Switching the light system on, she pressed a combination on the remote and fairy lights twinkled throughout the garden.
“That’s so pretty,” Tara whispered, handing Ricci a full glass of wine.
They smiled at one another and sipped their beverages before moving to the outdoor sofa beside a water feature.
“You should do that for a living,” Tara said, gesturing to the lighting and slopping wine from her glass. “Oops.” She began to giggle.
Ricci giggled with her.
“God. I haven’t been this drunk since I was in my early twenties,” Tara said, waving her free hand in front of her own face. “Those were the days.”
“Geez. How old are you?”
“A lady never tells.”
Ricci chuckled. “I’m going to find out the moment you fill in the tenancy paperwork.”
“I’m going to fudge my answer.”
“You’re not allowed to.”
“Spoil sport.” Tara shifted on the sofa and tucked her leg under her to face Ricci. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your mother thinks your womb is drying up.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my womb.”
Tara reach over and caressed Ricci’s lower stomach. “I’m sure there isn’t.”
Ricci squirmed. The sensation of contact tracked straight between her thighs. It had been a long time since she’d been touched. Clearing her thickening throat, she said, “It’s a hobby.”
“Hmm?”
“The lighting thing. I’m not sure anyone would pay for me to do that.”
Tara gave her a lazy grin. “I would. I’d want you.”
Ricci didn’t miss the double entendre. “Surely, I’m not your type.”
“No, you’re not, but I’m perfectly entitled to recognize a beautiful woman when I see one.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
Tara leaned closer, the wine strong on her breath. “Very.”
Ricci grinned. “You like me, don’t you?”
Tara scoffed. An adorable, drunken sound. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I tolerate you.”
Ricci shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” She licked her lips and saw Tara’s gaze drop to the action. Tara leaned in as Ricci swallowed and gave her a sloppy kiss. It was brief, ill-conceived, and utterly enjoyable. Tara hummed her approval as she moved back.
“You kissed me,” Ricci said, finding her intoxicated state unable to understand why.
“Mmm. I might do that again. Any objections?”
Ricci shook her head.
Tara leaned in again and Ricci reciprocated. Lips locked in soft, plump warmth, and Ricci’s heart began to race. Convinced it had more to do with holding her breath than the sensation of Tara’s lips against hers, she pulled back to breathe. Tara didn’t let her get away. Moving over Ricci after pressing another kiss to her lips, Ricci found herself on her back along the sofa with Tara staking her claim above. Ricci yielded to the tongue inquiring against her lips and let the kiss go where it wanted.
Tara was a demanding kisser and it was all Ricci could do to keep up with her. Her tongue probed confidently, and she tasted like the sweet wine they imbibed. Ricci pushed her fingers into blonde locks, and held on tight. Gasping for breath, Tara moved her lips to Ricci’s neck, allowing her to do the same. Pressed against soft skin, her lips felt the erratic beat of Tara’s pulse while she inhaled the soft scents of the woman’s perfume. She grazed her teeth along the corded muscle, eliciting a groan from above. It was a sound that pulsed through Ricci like a bomb. Breathily mumbling Tara’s name, her lips were claimed once again, as Tara raked her hands into her hair to pull her close. She was sure Tara growled.
While the arousal of her body was keen, something inside Ricci prevented her from disrobing the sensual woman above her, and allowing the woman to do the same in return. When Tara’s hand found its way up a leg and into her dress, Ricci stilled the hand with her own. The silent refusal was the extinguisher to the heat of the kiss. With one last languid stroke of her tongue, Tara rested her mouth against Ricci’s neck and spent some time panting.
Ricci relished in the sensation of the warm body covering hers, and ran her fingers up and down the defined, and bare back of the resting woman, Ricci shut her eyes and let the soft caress of Tara’s breath lull her. Her face held a smile of peaceful contentment as the warmth of Tara’s body infused with hers. The scent of the woman filled her senses, and as she drifted off to sleep, she observed how perfectly Tara fit against her.
The morning held no rewards for their night of indulgence.
“Oh, God,” Ricci moaned at the pain in her head as the sunshine bathed her resting place. Someone groaned against her neck. Squinting against the intrusion of light, she looked at her human blanket and determined it was Tara. What the hell?
Tara groaned again and lifted her head as she stirred. They stared at each other in confusion for a long heartbeat. Suddenly, Tara pushed herself off Ricci and winced at the movement. She covered her face against the sun and groaned once again. “What time is it?” she asked in a hoarse voice.
“No idea.”
Tara glanced at her, the fact their lower bodies were still entangled, and at the sofa. She extracted herself from Ricci touch, forcing Ricci to sit upright to give her space.
“So…what happened?” Ricci asked as the air was filled with nothing but chirping birds and the distance sounds of traffic.
“You don’t know?”
“My head hurts.” Ricci rubbed her temples. “We snuggled?”
“I guess we did.” Tara rose groggily from the sofa. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped and held her stomach. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to throw up.”
Ricci nodded her head with as little movement as possible. Standing herself, she swayed and felt the tell-tale rush of warmth up her esophagus. “Oh, hell.” She ran. She bumped into everything on the way, and somehow hit her bruise again, but she made it to her en suite in time. Just. There was minor splatter that she found herself scrubbing off the tiles later that day after copious amounts of water and pain killers.
Chapter Nine
Hard Apologies
“Morning, boss lady,” Howie said, pecking Ricci on the cheek.
“Morning.”
Howie cocked his head. “You don’t sound so great.”
“Big weekend.”
Howie’s face lit up. “Yeah? Score with any hot chicks?”
Ricci blushed as images of making out with Tara on the sofa came to mind. The mood in her apartment on Sunday was strained and awkward as their bodies, and their memories, had recovered from their night of drinking. She hadn’t scored, as Howie put it so delicately, but she had definitely coped a feel and marked Tara’s neck. It was that red welt that turned Sunday into ‘stay
away from your roommate’ day. “No.”
“Maybe they didn’t like what you were offering,” Howie said with a wink.
Judging from the echo of Tara’s moans in her dreams, Ricci was pretty sure she got her offer exactly right. “Howie, get to work. I want to get this finished.”
His face fell. “Touchy. You could have mentioned you were PMSing.”
Ricci shot him a dangerous glare and the man back off with his hands raised in defense.
Ricci’s anxiety increased the longer Monday went on, and Howie managed to cop the brunt of her bad mood.
“You okay?” Lawrence asked as he leaned against the hallway wall near the hideaway laundry.
“No.” Ricci scowled and tossed her cable crimp into the tool box.
“Why so grumpy? We’ve nearly finished, and Howie hasn’t been more of an ass than usual.”
Ricci sighed and screwed her eyes shut for a moment. “Sorry, rough weekend. To add to that, Mrs. Carter wants her security deposit back.”
Lawrence shrugged. “So give it to her.”
“I can’t until Friday.”
“So she waits.”
“Rightfully, it’s due today, but I forgot about it with all the distractions.” Ricci waved her hand at the reassembled bathroom. Why did she have to write into her tenancy contracts that she’d transfer funds seven days after the final paperwork was signed? Idiot.
“I can loan you,” Howie said, emerging from the main bathroom.
Lawrence burst out laughing, and Ricci felt a grin spread on her face.
“What? I have money!”
“Yeah, whose?” Lawrence asked.
Howie pouted and stormed toward the kitchen muttering something about a lucky poker game. Ricci sighed and followed him with her tool box.
“You’ll figure it out, little lady,” Lawrence said, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You always do.”
Ricci bounced her head up and down. “I hope so.”
After a quick bite to eat, they declared themselves finished. With nothing left to do but clean up and add a fresh lick of paint the next day, the apartment was nearly ready for Tara to move in.
Popping her headphones in her ears after saying goodbye to the guys, Ricci plugged the vacuum into the hall socket and switched it on. She didn’t expect to see the shower of sparks erupt from the outlet and singe the carpet that, up until that time, had been undamaged.
“Damn it!” Yanking the cord from the socket, she stared in confusion at the black mess on the end of the prongs. It was thick, dark, and warm from being fried. What the heck is that?
An inspection of the remainder of the apartment found another eight power outlets that had been tampered with.
“Mr. Carter, I hope you rot in hell,” she muttered as she called the insurance company to report the latest finding. Hearing the news that they couldn’t verify her claim considering the report had already been lodged put the icing on the cake. She yelled a string of curses at the ceiling. It didn’t help, so she stormed downstairs, making plans to visit the electrical warehouse in the morning to replace each outlet.
“Woah!” Bob cried as she burst from the stairwell.
“Shit. Sorry,” she said, clutching her chest in fright.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“To jail, probably.” Bob cocked his head. “I just found more damage upstairs. I’d like to strangle Mr. Carter.”
“Ah.”
“Did any packages come today?” she asked, walking over to the office.
“Not sure, I just came on shift.”
Peering at her desk as she opened the door, there was no tell-tale signs of a parcel from the security firm. “Damn,” she muttered, closing the door. “Did Hank get hold of you on Friday?”
“About Mr. Carter? Yeah. Didn’t see him.” Bob shrugged. “Haven’t seen him since they left. Seen his kids though.”
Ricci frowned. “His kids?”
“Yeah. They were over in the park playing the other day.”
Ricci turned and looked at Central Park across the road. “What? Last week? But…Hank was on duty when Mrs. Carter came in on Monday.”
“Must’ve been the day they moved out.”
Ricci looked at Bob for a moment and put her hands to her lips in thought. Glancing at the security desk, she moved over to the log. A meticulous account of visitors, and guard shifts that she really meant to digitize. Flicking to the right page, she said, “They moved out at the start of the month.” She pointed to the log recording the removal van and the men that carried the furniture. Bob didn’t have a shift that day. “And here,” she said, pointing to the twelfth. “Mrs. Carter came in to sign the bond forms off with me.” Again, Bob’s name was missing from the log. She was also aware he had that weekend off to celebrate his fortieth wedding anniversary. “You worked on the thirteenth, and again on the sixteenth.”
She looked up to find Bob nodding in agreement.
“You saw the kids in the park?”
“Yeah. Must’ve been then.” He jabbed his finger to the thirteenth.
“Mr. Carter must have had them with him when he came in and wrecked the place.”
“Can’t say I saw him come in.”
“The bastard must have sneaked in through the back.” Ricci took a deep breath. She needed that security footage. “Thanks, Bob,” she said, rubbing the man’s shoulder as she walked to her office. “I think we’ve nailed him.”
“Horizon Security, how may I direct your call?”
“Hi, it’s Rica Velez, manager of Parklands Apartments, Manhattan, New York, can I please talk to Harrison, one of your consultants.”
“One moment.” After thirty seconds on hold, the woman returned to the line. “I apologize, Miss Velez, but the only consultant we have with the name of Harrison is currently away on leave. Would you like to talk to one of our other consultants?”
“Yes, please.” Another round of horrid music, and Ricci was talking to Joanne. “Hi, it’s Rica Velez, manager of Parkland Apartments, Manhattan, New York, I request security footage on Friday, and was promised its delivery today. Unfortunately, it hasn’t arrived.”
After doing the authentication checks again, she was put on hold…again.
“Miss Velez, I’m sorry, but there’s no record of your request in our system.”
Ricci leaned forward, dropping her feet off her desk. “What?”
“I see a request lodged on Monday the nineteenth of October.”
“Yes, that’s when I rang the first time. I received footage, but not what I had requested.”
“Would you like to issue another request now?”
Ricci groaned on a long huff of air. “Yes. The police requires the video feed from the lobby, elevator, fifth floor hallway, and the side access lane from the twelfth to the sixteenth of October.”
She heard Joanne tap away on her keyboard. “I have lodged your request. You should receive the footage Wednesday.”
Ricci sighed. “Thank you.”
Hanging up, she decided to call it a day.
Ricci’s phone rang as she reheated one of her mother’s meals.
“Yeah?” she answered, assuming because it was dark out that it’d be Alicia.
“Where’s my money, Miss Velez. I’m currently waiting at the terminal and just discovered my account is empty.”
Ricci slumped against the counter. “The bank assures me it’s being processed. They required five business days to make the transfer.”
“That money should have been transferred today, Miss Velez. You’ve had two weeks to organize the funds. I’m sorry, but I’m contacting my lawyer.” An announcement came through the phone about a flight boarding for travelers going to Singapore. The phone was muffled when Mrs. Carter said, “Harry, grab the kids.” Directly down the line, she snapped, “I have to go. Expect a phone call in the morning. Enjoying scooping tar out of the walls, Miss Velez.”
“There’s no…” Ricci stopped. Mrs. Carter h
ad hung up on her. “Wonderful. Just freaking—” Her doorbell chimed. “—wonderful.” Huffing, she plodded to the door to reveal Tara. “Hello?” She was dressed in her business suit and looked tired. She also brought a much-needed smile to Ricci’s face.
The woman gave her a shy smile in return. “Hi. I forgot my key. Sorry.”
Ricci nodded and walked back to the beeping microwave. “It’s fine.”
“Are you okay?” Tara asked, shutting the door and following Ricci to the kitchen.
“Don’t ask.”
“Why not?”
Ricci stared at Tara for a moment and took a deep breath. “Because it’s a long story that requires alcohol.” Pulling two bottles of beer from the fridge, she held one out to Tara.
Eyeing it warily, the woman took it.
“You hungry?”
“A little.”
In rapid time, Ricci scooped her reheated meal into two bowls and led Tara to the terrace. Delicately eating her meal, Tara stopped and raised an eyebrow at Ricci. “It must be a maudlin story, you’re not touching your food.”
“Hmm?” Ricci broke her trance and looked at Tara. “Huh?”
“You seem distracted.” Tara averted her eyes and poked at her dish. “If it’s because we…” Tara cleared her throat. “We were intimate on Friday, I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s not. Trust me. Kissing you is the highlight of my week.” Ricci’s eyes widened a little, not having wanted to overstate their encounter. “I mean, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened.”
Tara hid a smile around a mouthful of food.
“Ugh.” Ricci rubbed her forehead. “I thought you’d have your apartment ready by Wednesday, but I’ve just gone and found another freaking thing that’s gone wrong that I have to fix before I can paint the place. And I burned the carpet,” she added, thinking of the singeing it took.
Tara’s eyes widened in surprise.
Ricci sighed. “I was expecting security footage today to prove Mr. Carter came on the premises, but somehow, the security company screwed up my first order, and completely lost my second. To add to my misery, the ex-tenant is demanding her security deposit back. It was due today, but thanks to all the damage, I was too busy fixing the apartment, and forgot to arrange the bank transfer in time. She’s getting in touch with her lawyer.”
