by Taras Ford
“Enough, Nolen. I’m full!”
“I’m not,” he said, turning her around.
She laughed and put her hands back on the counter to wait for the next bite.
“I’m sorry.” Trish said sadly.
Todd pulled her against him. On the bed he held her in silence, waiting for his heart to stop slamming against his ribcage. He’d never desired a woman as much as he did her now. To hold back on those desires went against the nature of who he was. Yet he resisted. They were close, the kissing, fondling, he even sucked her breast, until she began to resist and fight against him. If he hadn’t noticed she would have probably screamed, she was so uptight and upset. Now he struggled to find the words.
“I’ll go. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Trish, I uh…” She pulled away and he caught her by the arm. “Please don’t leave. Don’t apologize. We can go slow or, we… we don’t have to do it at all. I just want to hold you.” She blinked those soft green eyes at him in disbelief.
He forced a smile. He felt the tension in his chest ease and his erection dissolve. “I swear it sweetheart. I only need to hold you. Come here.”
A bashful smile curled the side of her mouth and she came in closer. He slipped back on the pillows against his headboard and let go a deep sigh. “How about some TV?”
“That would be nice.”
“Yeah, nice.”
“What’s this?” Nolen asked, putting a slice to her lips.
Sydney bit down and burst into laughter as the sour juice splashed into her mouth. “You asshole! It’s a lime!”
Nolen laughed. “Very good,” he said, fidgeting behind her.
“What are you doing?”
He pulled up her shirt to expose her nakedness and forced her feet apart. “Collecting my reward.” Sydney felt him enter her from behind and rose on her toes, strangling on a deep moan of pleasure.
Forced to lean over the counter as he pushed his way into her, the lips of her vagina parted and she took him in deeper. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Instead, she reached for the opposite edge of the island, holding tightly as he continued with his passionate thrusts. Before the release, with her knees shaking and her mouth gaped in a silent cry of pleasure, he withdrew. It took several minutes for Sydney to recover. She lifted her blindfold and turned to look at him from over her shoulder.
“You, Mr. Adams, are quite a man.”
He kissed her lips. “You, Ms. Allen, continue to amaze me. And you taste like lime.” Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed his nose and then his eyes. “You’ve got to help me clean up this mess!”
Nolen frowned. “Clean up?”
She laughed. “You do know how to clean up?”
“No, leave it,” he said, grabbing her hand to pull her out of the kitchen.
“Nolen, there’s good food out here, and it will go to waste.” She pulled her hand free.
“So? We’ll replace it.”
She put her hands on her hips. “My mama always said, ‘To waste is a disgrace’.”
“You win.”
“Now let’s clean. Then we’ll shower, and I’ll put you to bed,” she said, starting to close up the containers.
As Nolen started gathering fruit and putting it back in the fridge, frowning to show his displeasure, Sydney smiled. She would have to recondition his spoiled bottom.
Chapter 12
Could This Be Love?
Portia sat on the sofa, thumbing through In Style magazine. She had big news—a photo shoot in L.A. in two days for Elle magazine’s spring edition. Today she’d wait for her roommates to find out what was going on with them. Things were already strained with Sydney, and that wouldn’t improve if she convinced Ricky to go public with their affair too soon.
But Trish was her main concern. In the past two years Trish had lived with her, she’d never stayed out all night. Portia had expected to find her on the sofa or in Sydney’s bed the next morning. When she didn’t, her heart had skipped a beat, and a cold sense of dread had crept in. After Sydney’s parents turned off her cell phone she never replaced it. Who lived in New York nowadays without a cell phone? She tried to find Nolen Adams’s number, but, of course, it was unlisted. She located his corporate number on the Internet and left a desperate message with his answering service requesting him to have Sydney call her. If Sydney didn’t call by eleven, she’d go down to Minetti’s studio to drag her out of those rehearsals and force her to help find their friend.
Hearing the double bolt on the door disengage, she closed the magazine and waited nervously to see who was coming through. Trish walked in, wearing her jeans and yellow turtleneck from yesterday. She carried her brown leather jacket in her hand. Her long hair was in a braid down her back. She turned around smiling, but Portia frowned.
“Where the hell have you been!” she demanded.
Trish’s smile faded. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious. I’ve been worried sick! Where have you been?”
Trish tossed her house keys on the table near the door. “I’ve met someone, Portia. Someone special.” Portia rolled her eyes. “Not you too.”
“Listen—”
“No, you listen, damn it! If you’ve met someone, fine, but you don’t run out of here in hysterics and stay out all night! You had me worried sick about you!”
Trish nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You and Sydney have been treating me like the enemy here, and I’m sick of it. I have a lot going on, but neither of you has taken the time to find out what.”
Trish listened, saying nothing. Portia began to pace in front of her, tossing her long hair and flashing injured looks at her friend. “Did you know that I leave in two days to go to L.A.? That I’m doing a spread for the spring line in Elle?”
“That’s great, Portia.”
Portia narrowed her eyes. “Funny how no one wants to celebrate when I do something, but I’m always there for you guys!”
Trish patiently nodded. “I understand, and I’m sorry we fought. I think it’s great news that you’re doing what you want to do, and, yes, we should celebrate.” She crossed the room and hugged Portia. A hug from Trish always made a person feel better.
“I love you and Sydney, Trish. It hurts when we’re so distant. I don’t know what’s going on with us.”
“We’re finding our dreams. All of us, Portia, and it’s a good thing.” Portia nodded. “So you met someone?”
“Yes, and he’s so kind and sweet. He makes me feel special.”
“You are special,” Portia said, touching her face. “You don’t need a man to make you feel that way.”
“He’s a photographer, you know,” Trish said, smiling.
Portia’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Maybe I know him?”
She nodded, but before she could say more, the phone rang. Portia, as always, raced to answer it.
”I’m going to take a shower,” Trish said, heading for Sydney’s room where her clothes were kept because Portia had no extra room in her closet or dresser drawers.
Ten minutes later, Portia hung up the phone and grabbed her purse and keys. Her agent had an immediate call to audition for a Calvin Klein underwear shoot. She rushed into Sydney’s room, knocking on the door to the bathroom. “Trish, I’ve got to go!”
“Ok!” Trish yelled over the shower.
“Will you be home tonight?” Portia asked.
“No!”
Portia smiled. “It’s like that, huh? Well, call me. I want to hear all about him!”
“Ok, I will.”
Portia left, happy that she and Trish were back on track. The only thing left was to find a way to make things right with Sydney.
Todd stood in his makeshift office, wearing a loose-fitting white shirt that was unbuttoned at the top and khaki drawstring pants. His usually well-groomed hair was disheveled and in his face as he slipped large glossy photos into a bubbled envelope to send to Vogue for his latest deadline.
Hearing his heavy studio door slide open, he knew it had to be Nolen. “In here, man!” he called out.
Nolen entered the office, his face tight with anger.
Todd greeted him with a smile. “What brings you by so early, man?”
“Are you fucking Trish?” Nolen snapped.
Stunned, Todd dropped the envelope. “What did you say to me?”
“You heard me, damn it! I asked if you were fucking her! I saw all those discarded wine bottles and—”
“Don’t question me!”
Nolen blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding. She’s not one of those sluts you bang and toss—”
“Look, man, you don’t have any idea what’s going on with me and Trish.”
“Really? Why don’t you enlighten me, because from the looks of this studio, you lured her here to paint some picture and then screwed her half the night. Am I close?” Todd ran his hands through his hair. “No. Not even close. Let me explain.”
“No need. I told you not to play games with her. I told you to back off!” Todd shook his head. “I’m not playing games, damn it. You don’t understand.”
“I know you, Todd! This girl is young, and she has no idea how you play. I don’t need this shit messing up my thing with Sydney.”
“Wait, your ‘thing’ with Sydney? Are you saying you two are an item?” Nolen pointed a finger in Todd’s face. “Yes, we’re an item, and I won’t have your dick interfering with it!”
“Screw you, man. Trish is different, and I care about her!”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s true, and if you’ll stop yelling at me and listen for once, I can tell you!” Parting his dark trench coat and slipping his hands in his pockets, Nolen tilted his head. “Oh, this ought to be good.”
Todd walked around the new desk he had bought to replace the one Portia destroyed. He faced off with his friend of many years. “I know you've seen me at my worst, but you found someone, right? This Sydney has you all in knots, right? How long did it take man, before you knew she was different? My guess is it wasn’t that long. Same here.”
Nolen glared at him and said nothing.
Todd shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve fallen in love with Trish, and it’s real. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
“Have you told her about Portia?” Nolen asked.
Todd flinched. “No.”
“How long before it explodes in your face?”
“Did you tell Sydney about Portia?”
“Don’t question me! This has nothing to do with Sydney and me!”
“The hell it doesn’t. If she finds out that your best friend hurt one of her friends and is dating the other, how will she react?”
Nolen’s face turned red with anger. Sensing that he was finally motivated by something other than greed and that he’d sacrifice their friendship to protect his new relationship, Todd changed tactics. “Help me, man.
Help me fix this so I can have Trish. I want her.”
“Are you fucking crazy? You don't know her.”
“Yes, I am, and I don’t care. If Trish finds out about this the wrong way, it'll kill her, man. It will literally kill her. That’s why I need your help.”
“How am I supposed to help you? We can’t undo what you did!”
“That bitch Portia started this mess. She’s crazy. I didn’t lay a hand on her!”
“That’s not how they’ll see it, Todd.”
“It’s the truth, and she and I both know it. Besides, broads like her have a price. I think she can be bought off.”
Nolen raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to pay her to keep quiet?”
“I’m asking you to do what you always do to make the shit go away.” Shaking his head, Nolen blew out a frustrated breath. “No way. This is your fuckup. If I get involved like that, I’ll lose Sydney.”
“And if you don’t, we both lose. Telling them the truth is a bad move. We have to stop Portia before she finds out about Trish and me.”
Nolen looked around. “Where’s Trish?”
“She went home.”
“Fuck!”
“I think I bought us some time. I had a friend of mine toss a Calvin Klein gig at Portia. She’s sure to bite.
The Elle spread will send her to L.A. for three weeks, and Trish is coming back here after she gets some clothes.
It’s enough time for us to come up with a way to isolate Portia. We can pull this off.”
“This is a bad move,” Nolen said, shaking his head. “Even if Portia keeps her mouth shut for a while, she could come back for more when the funds dry up.”
Todd watched Nolen pace, knowing that he should have told Trish himself last night instead of trying to make love to her. Now he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t risk hurting her in any way. And right that moment Trish could be learning the truth.
Nolen stood there cool, collected, unconvinced. His boy never bet on anything but a sure thing. It would take some hard negotiating to convince him to dig a bigger hole for them both. But Todd had to try. Trish trusted him, and instinctually he knew that a betrayal of that trust could end in disaster.
“It’s the only way. If not, we come clean and just let the chips fall. But I’m telling you, man, that friend of theirs will turn this around on us, and we’ll lose them both for sure. Mark my words.” Nolen glared. “I ought to snap your neck.”
The dancers sat on the floor in the rehearsal studio, skimming through their folders while Madame Gustav walked back and forth reading out the stages of choreography. This morning Ms. Minetti had announced Sydney’s starring role as prima ballerina in Black Butterfly and named the other key players in the production. The casting call for the male leads was still under way, but the story was solid.
Sydney had read through the script, and the story of a butterfly princess banished from her kingdom because she’d been born with black wings. It struck a chord deep within her. The story was beautiful, and being cast as the butterfly that overcame prejudice and ignorance of things that were different was, to her, a huge compliment. Some of the scenes required her to sing as well as dance. Thinking about the chance to showcase both of her God-given talents within the same production made her swell with pride.
Madame Gustav announced a lunch break, ordering the dancers to be back in one hour sharp.
Sydney grabbed her bag and followed the girls out, heading to the cafe across the street. In the hallway, she saw Xenia talking to the director. Their eyes met, and Xenia flashed her an evil grin. “Sydney, come over here, please.”
Sydney sucked in her breath and went to greet them. “Hello, George, Xenia,” she said politely.
George smiled, but Xenia continued her cold stare. “We have some news,” Xenia said.
George cleared his throat. “It appears that our modern ballet has a twist. Raymond has included quite a bit of singing in the lead role of Black Butterfly. We know that you were promised the spot, but we may have to reopen auditions for a dancer who can sing as well as dance. I told Xenia that we can use the chorus and do the story through dance interpretation, but—”
“But it’s my show! I need a double threat, sweetie, and I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s no problem at all, Ms. Minetti,” Sydney said, smiling sweetly.
Xenia frowned at her. “Really? Why is that?”
“I’d like to re-audition for the singing part as well as the dance.” Xenia looked at her, dismayed. “You sing too?”
Sydney smiled, anticipating the moment when she could show Xenia just how well. “Yes, ma’am, I do, but I’d like for you, George, and Raymond to judge for yourselves.”
“Well, this will be a classical mix, not R and B,” Xenia said.
Sydney laughed. “Can we do an audition now?”
George looked surprised. “No. We’ll give you a fair shot, time to prepare.”
“I’m ready, and I’d like to perform ‘Wishing You Were Somehow Her
e Again’ from The Phantom of the Opera.”
Xenia gave her a blank look. “I don’t think that we have the music.” Sydney shrugged. “I’ll do it acappella.”
George grinned at Xenia. “I say, let’s do it!”
“We don’t have the songwriter or Raymond here. We can’t.”
“If she can do Phantom of the Opera acappella, we don’t need them,” George said dismissively, walking away.
Sydney flashed Xenia a smile and followed the director on stage.
Sydney’s father had taken her to Charleston to see a traveling production of The Phantom when she was thirteen. After that trip, she’d gone to the library to find everything she could on The Phantom, including an old forty-five that could be played on her dad’s record player. “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” had been their shared favorite.
Now, with her father estranged the words were even more poignant, and she sang with tears in her eyes, putting her heart into her performance. Looking into the blinding light that shone in her face and hearing the applause from her small audience, she bowed, satisfied that Xenia had lost this battle. As she walked off stage, exhausted by the emotional strain of her performance, she ran directly into Juan.
“Honey, that was fabulous!” he cried, kissing both her cheeks.
George reappeared, beaming, with Xenia at his side.
“Tell me again why you haven’t been discovered yet!” George said, hugging her.
Xenia gave her a phony smile. “Well, looks like you’ve solidified your spot in the play.”
“Thank you, Ms. Minetti,” Sydney said, returning the stare.
“Don’t thank me now, Sydney. We have a lot of work to do.” Xenia tossed her blond hair and walked away.
George patted Sydney’s arm reassuringly. “Never mind her! She couldn’t find a talent like you if she tried.
We’re so glad you signed on.”
“Thanks, George.”
“That little show you put on was fierce,” Juan said as George walked away, “but Ms. Juanita knows what it’s all about.”
