by Portia Moore
“So let me know if I’m wrong, but you seem to have lot of options here?” He laughs amused.
“Are you implying something sir?” I say, hoping my sarcasm covers my embarrassment.
“Oh no. It’s just. I thought I was on a playing field all my own,” he says, crossing his arms. A smug grin on his face.
“You don’t seem to be the type that’s easily intimidated,” I retort, playing along.
“Oh I’m not,” he laughs haughtily,“ I guess I’m going to have to do something to make myself more memorable,” he says leaving me behind with a seductive smile that I can’t help but follow.
May 9th 2011
I’ve been tiptoeing around the house for the past few hours, admittedly trying to avoid Raven. I haven’t faced her since the most embarrassing moment of my life happened. I suspect she left quite soon after she found Cal and I in the pantry. We’ve run the poor woman out of her own house. How terrible is that?
I’ve been trying to think where I can go to use a Wi-Fi connection in Saginaw. My mind has been all over the place, coming up with ideas and dreams about opening my gallery. I don’t know why I never thought of it myself. I smile, thinking about the epiphany Cal had this morning. He can be distant, aloof, and distracted most of the time, but however far his mind is, it doesn’t change the fact that he knows me—what makes me happy. And at this point, he should know what makes me sad, too—what can hurt me deep down to the core.
I head downstairs to see that Cal has fallen asleep on the couch watching Sports Center. I smile and snuggle in beside him. I inhale his scent; after all of these years, I still can’t believe how good he smells all the time. He adjusts his position to let me climb up beside him. I reach for the remote resting on his chest, but he grabs it.
“You’re sleeping,” I whine.
“But I’m still listening to it,” he retorts, his eyes still closed.
“You’re so selfish,” I pout, snuggling closer and enjoying his warmth.
“No, you were just too chicken to come downstairs first,” he retorts.
“How did that go...with Raven?”
“It went fine. I apologized and told her it was my fault.”
“How did she take it?”
“She said she was young once and for you not to worry about it. I told you she’s gotten pantry action before,” he snickers.
I swat him playfully. “Have you talked to Dexter yet?”
“No, he’s in Ireland. Why?”
“Well, you said coming back here could have messed up a business deal for him. I wanted to make sure everything was ok between you two.”
“Yeah, it’s something I was working on—on my own. I wasn’t going to tell Dex until it was secured. It’s not a big deal.”
“Well, what was it you were…” I trail off as his phone starts to ring. I can see the caller ID from here. It’s him.
“Speak of the devil,” he laughs before picking it up.
“Dex! How’s the whiskey over there?” he asks, a wide smile on his face. I hear Dexter’s voice on the other end, but it’s not loud and joking like he usually is with Cal. After a few moments, Cal’s smile fades into something more serious.
“Cal, what’s wrong?” I ask, noticing his demeanor change. His face shows something I’ve never seen before.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” he says, almost absentmindedly. His face is drawn into a look of concern, but his eyes are almost glazed over. He slowly sits up, forcing me to sit up as well. “When did they get that information? How bad is it? …Yeah, she’s here. We’re in Saginaw at her aunt’s.”
He stands up and walks to the other side of the room. I stand up too, following behind him. He puts the phone down to his side.
“I need a minute, ok?” he says. His voice is unsteady, and it makes my heart beat faster. I’ve never seen him this way before.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” Instinct is screaming at me not to leave him alone.
“I need a minute.” His voice is cold and stern. Against my better judgment, I nod and step back to let him walk out the front door. I watch him from the window, pacing back and forth as he continues to talk on the phone. I’ve never seen him distraught before, angry yes, but not this. I’d give anything to hear what is being said. I’m getting a sinking feeling in my stomach—the same one I get when I see the familiar bag he takes on his overnight trips, except this is worse.
Raven’s car pulls up. I watch as she passes Cal on her way into the house. He acknowledges her, but continues pacing and talking. I meet her at the door.
“Honey, is everything ok with Cal? He seems upset,” she asks closing the door. “Are you ok?” she asks, touching my shoulder.
“I-I don’t know. He got a phone call from Dexter, and, whatever he’s saying, it-it’s not good,” I explain, folding my arms around myself.
We both stand there, watching him through the window. “Is it something going on back home?” she asks.
“I don’t know. It could be, but I think it’s something more than that. Did he look angry to you?”
“No, more like worried or alarmed,” she says, confirming my fears. In three years, I’ve never seen him afraid or alarmed about anything.
“Cal doesn’t get like that over work,” I say aloud, but more to myself. Cal is good at what he does, and I would say he’s dedicated, but it doesn't affect him like this, there was only one other time I seen him emotional about work and, well that was right before things started to change between Cal and I, still this is different. He finally puts the phone down and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. I head towards the door, and Raven gently grasps my arm.
“Honey, maybe you should give him a minute,” she says. I watch him kick the dust as if it’s someone’s head.
“I can’t,” I say apologetically. Maybe he does need a moment, but I can’t help it. I have to know what’s going on, and if he’s ok. I quickly run down the stairs.
“Cal, what’s wrong? What happened?”
He glances at me briefly and turns his attention back to the ground.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” I plead. I move closer to him and hold his face in my hands. For a second, he’s vulnerable and the gray eyes that engulf me are the seldom-appearing faint green. He opens his mouth, beginning to speak, and I imagine he’s about to tell me what’s wrong. He’s finally going to let me in on whatever it is that’s bothering him. The thing that keeps slipping between him and I, pulling us apart is about to be revealed. And then just as quickly as the moment came it passes, it's gone. His expression turns cold, and he takes my hand off of his face and walks away from me, heading swiftly towards the house.
“Cal, talk to me!” I yell, following close behind him as he enters the house
“What did Dexter say? Is this about the deal?” I follow him up the stairs and into my room. He grabs his wallet and keys.
“You’re leaving? What’s happened?” He walks out of the room without saying a word, quickly heading back down the stairs.
“Where are you going? Can you say something?” I grab his arm, and he snatches it away from me and walks out the front door. Following behind him out of the house, I swallow my anger. I know something’s wrong. He hits the alarm on his Porsche and walks to the driver’s side. I open the passenger door, get in, and buckle my seat belt.
“What are you doing?” he asks bluntly.
“I’m coming with you,” I tell him.
“No you’re not,” he says shortly.
“Yes I am. Something is wrong, you won’t tell me what. I won’t let you leave here like this.” I fold my arms across my chest and look forward avoiding his heated glare. I cross my feet over each other feeling a little ridiculous I don’t even have on any shoes but if I leave this car he’s pulling off without me.
“Lauren, get out of the car,” he says, his voice rising.
“No, I’m going with you” I say adamantly.
“Lauren, get out of the fucking car! I don’t
have time for this!” he yells.
“No!” I shout back at him. In an instant he’s out of the car, walking over to my side. He opens the door, and I stare him down.
“Don’t make me put you out of the car,” he says quietly, and I ignore his intense glare. In a second he’s reaching over me undoing my seat belt. I push him away and he wraps his arms around my waist lifting me out of the seat.
“ I’m not getting out!” I grab the steering wheel, holding on for dear life, but he somehow manages to loosen my grip. I’ve hit the horn somehow in the process. So much for not attracting any attention.
“Stop it, Cal!” I scream at him as he carries me towards the house. I struggle to get out of his arms. One of Raven’s neighbors has stepped out of their house and is watching us. Cal must have noticed also, and he puts me down. I start to head back to the car, and he steps in my way.
“Lauren, fuck! Go in the house, you’re not coming with me!”
“Why? Why can’t I go with you?” I scream at him and he covers his face in frustration.
“You just can’t, ok! You’re wasting my time making me do this with you!” he shouts. “Just. Just go in the house,” he continues angrily, and I burst into tears. He shakes his head defiantly. “Please!” he says his tone still loud but softer.
“What is going on!?” Raven shouts frantically from the porch, obviously having heard the commotion we’ve caused. The last thing I’ve wanted to do is embarrass her with all our drama her on the front lawn.
“Fine, just go,” I say swallowing my remaining tears and gesturing towards the car.
“I’ll be back,” is his only reply as he heads back into the car. It is a few seconds before I notice Raven is beside me. She says something, but I don’t really know what it is. My attention is on the black Porsche zooming out of her driveway, taking with it all of the progress that’s happened over the past few days and I realize it was just a bandage on an open wound that’s not even close to healing.
May 10th 2008
“Here we are,” he says as we stop at one of only two doors on the entire floor. He opens it standing aside to allow me to enter first.
It seemed like a good idea in the car to come up to his apartment alone, but now I’m second-guessing myself. After leaving the museum, he mentioned how beautiful the skyline is from his place. I said I’ve never seen the Chicago skyline before from any where other than the club and then he said he had a great view of it.
I look up to see he’s still waiting for me to go in. I bite my lip. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I don’t know what he may be thinking this implies... Maybe I should just say I’m feeling sick and go home. I look up again and see an amused grin on his face. I smile back at him, ignoring his humorous demeanor at my indecisiveness and walk past him.
“Thank you,” I say quietly as I enter the apartment…or more like penthouse. The butterflies in my stomach have tripled. The click of my heels on the chocolate colored hardwood floors echo throughout the house. I let out a small gasp as I take in the tall, vaulted ceilings that reveal a second floor being introduced by a long, wrap-around staircase.
The next thing that catches my attention is the open concept kitchen with all stainless steel appliances, separated from the living area by an island, which I can bet is granite. There isn’t much furniture, just a white chaise and a matching long sectional that stretches for miles in front of what has to be a at least a 70 inch television; there’s also a circular glass table separating the two. But what stops me in my tracks, making me wonder what took me so long to notice them, are the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that surround the entire left side of the apartment, revealing a breathtaking view of Chicago.
“This-this is amazing,” I quietly say aloud. I feel Cal touch my shoulders, and my nerves cause me to jump out of my skin.
“Taking your coat?” he smiles, gesturing towards it.
God, Lauren! CALM DOWN!
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” I joke allowing him to remove my small jacket, if the thin material I’m wearing can even be classified as such.
“I’ll remember that,” he says whimsically, taking what would better be described as my shawl and disappearing into another part of the house. I rub my arms, suddenly feeling vulnerable, with just this thin piece of clingy material on me. I run my hands thru my now fallen curls as I walk over to the large island and take a seat on one of the tall white chairs. I slip off my stilettos, hoping my throbbing feet won’t develop any blisters. I look up as Cal reappears, heading over to the stereo.
“This is really beautiful,” I tell him, taking in the scenery around me once again.
“Thanks.” Music begins to fill the house, a song that is haunting and hypnotizing at once.
“I love this song,” I tell him taking in the slow, sensual rhythms.
“It’s one of my favorites,” he replies removing a glass pitcher from the gigantic stainless steel refrigerator. He pours ice water into two glasses.
“It’s interesting,” Actually, the word that comes to mind but that I won’t use out loud is sexy. I’ve heard songs about sex, vulgar ones, but I’ve never thought of a song not about sex being almost erotic.
“I think it’s sexy, but maybe that’s just me,” he says casually. His smile is wicked, and as he hands me one of the glasses I smile too, feeling my ears heat up.
“That’s the word,” I agree taking a sip of water; it seems as if the temperature has gone up at least ten degrees. I start to look around the apartment to distract myself.
“Are you here a lot?” I ask absentmindedly. Most of the guys I know don’t do a lot of cleaning. Even when they have a girl over, if they can sweep all the trash off the table, they consider it a job well done. But this house is spotless. Not one thing seems to be out of place, and every surface shines, dust-free.
“What do you consider a lot?” he asks seriously. I raise my eyebrow curiously.
“Uhm, I don’t know. I guess I’m always home when I’m not at work or school,” I giggle. Did I just giggle? I also start to realize how unbelievably boring my life is.
“Have you ever been out of the country before?” he asks.
“The farthest I’ve been is Florida for my cousin’s wedding,” I laugh watching him come from behind the bar. I quickly slip my shoes back on.
“That should change,” he says, taking a seat on the bar stool next to me. My skin starts to tingle at our close proximity now that we are alone. I take a sip of water.
“I’ve never met a woman like you before, Lauren,” he says, his intense gaze on me once again, his eyebrow arches as if he's trying to figure me out.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask, gulping my water down.
He smiles. “It’s just that you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, and you don’t exploit it. I haven’t seen that around here,” he says taking my hand and leading me into the middle of the floor. I don’t really know what to say to that.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he says as he wraps his arm behind my waist and takes my hand. Please don’t be married or a serial killer.
“The day I met you wasn’t the first time I’d seen you,” he says, placing my arms on his shoulders with a sly grin. I chuckle nervously. “I’d noticed you the first time I was at The Cave. You were the only waitresses who seemed like you didn’t belong there.”
“Is that a compliment?” I ask him, laughing.
“It’s a compliment,” he says a small smile resting on his face.
I take my arms off of his shoulders and wrap them hesitantly around his neck.
“You’re pretty good at this,” I say a little amazed. He’s the first guy I’ve danced with who hasn’t stepped on my feet in the first ten seconds.
He spins me around expertly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says innocently.
“Sure you don’t.” He pulls me back into his chest and resumes the dance. His hand starts to caress the small o
f my back, sending chills up my spine; his touch, along with this music is almost intoxicating. I close my eyes and lay my head on his chest. As we sway back and forth to the music he’s leading me in every way.
‘“I’ve never felt like this before,” I say softly, not recognizing the tone of my voice
“Is that a good thing?” he asks. I can’t even get my words out. I just nod. “I can make you feel like this every night.”
“You think so?” I laugh lightly, feeling as if I’m floating on air. He suddenly stops dancing, and I look up to find him gazing at me intently.
“I’m positive.”
“But would you?” I ask. I’m not sure why I said that. I’m feeling a bit light headed, even though I’ve only had one glass of champagne this evening, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable at the benefit since he doesn’t drink. Yep, I’m feeling a little out of it, but not at all in a bad way.
“If you asked,” he says. The sarcastic tone is back, breaking the moment for now.
I laugh quietly. “So, is this what you say to all the girls?”
He spins me around again and pulls my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist and swaying with the guitar rhythm in the song. “Who says I have to say anything,” he says quietly. His lips are dangerously close to my ear.
“I’m sure you don’t,” I say trying to appear indifferent. “So that makes me different?”
“You are. From the first time I saw you, I knew you were different.”
“How?” I’m curious.
“Well, you didn’t throw yourself at me once you saw the Aston Martin,” he laughs.
I can’t help but smile at that. “Well, I have an incredible amount of self-control,” I reply sarcastically, “and high personal standards.” I’ve found myself using sarcasm as a defense mechanism with him. Truth is I can't blame any girl that did throw them self at him. He definitely has that effect, even without the car. I feel a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest but he doesn’t say anything.
“So, tell me what happens next?” I close my eyes and concentrate on his hands as they lift to rest on my shoulders then slowly slide down my arms, sending tingles through my body. I twist my head to look back at him.
