by Lila Lacroix
“Where are you taking me? I know I said okay to this, but I do have a meeting at 1pm,” said Vanessa, smiling.
“Oh,” Jonathan checked his watch: 11.30, “well that’s not going to happen.” Grinning, he licked is lips and cleared his throat. “Read the minutes instead.”
Just then, his phone rang. Again! “Excuse me,” he said to Vanessa, “just a minute.”
“I don’t think so,” said Vanessa. “I’ll take that.” She took his phone, pressed Decline, then threw it in the front passenger seat “Roger, take that. Hide it. If I’m missing work, then so can Jonathan.”
Jonathan gaped, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Be grateful I didn’t throw it out the window,” laughed Vanessa.
Roger said, “Sir, should I switch it off?”
“Huh?” Jonathan looked at Vanessa, smiled and sighed. “Don’t think I have any choice. They will cope without me for a few hours.” He smiled slyly at Vanessa, “But you will pay if something goes wrong.”
Vanessa got a thrill from his veiled threat. She had wanted to get rid of his phone for ages. He seemed so blasé about his work, but in reality, his smart phone never left his side, and rarely stayed silent for long.
“Drive, Roger. And as for you, prepare for a fun afternoon.”
They arrived at an exclusive apartment block, where Roger drove into the underground parking area.
“Who are we going to see?” asked Vanessa.
“Me, and hopefully, you. If you will let me.”
Vanessa frowned. What the hell does that mean?
They rode the elevator right up to the top of the building and all the way, Vanessa’s tummy bubbled with a mixture of excitement and vacillation. A loud ping signalled they had arrived and when the doors opened, she found herself in an enormous mostly open plan apartment. Decorated in conservative colours, the walls featured huge, modern artworks, and a glass cabinet filled with accolades and awards. Vanessa realized almost immediately that this was Jonathan’s apartment. As she followed Jonathan into the lounge area, she noticed a grand piano, and electric and acoustic guitars, a violin and a huge wooden chest marked ‘MUSIC BOX,’ with sheet music on top of it.
Wow! “You play all these, Jonathan?”
Jonathan looked over his shoulder, “Ah, yeah. Self taught, with varying degrees of aptitude.” He continued onto the kitchen area.
A large Bose music system caught Vanessa’s attention and proudly occupied the sideboard, with hundreds of CD’s in sleeves above it. This further illustrated just how important music was to him. Vanessa lay her palm on the suede, mushroom coloured five-seat sofa, which was as broad as a double bed and twice as wide. She imagined how blissful it might feel on her naked body, laid next to Jonathan, sipping something warm and listening to music.
“Come, let Susan prepare you something for lunch so we can get on with it.”
Who the fuck it Susan? “Ugh?” Vanessa said, startled, hurrying to his voice, onwards into the area just out of view. She find him sat a breakfast table in a large, gleaming white and chrome kitchen area. A woman stood with arms folded, by the sink. “Oh, hello. Susan?” Spluttered Vanessa.
Susan waved, smiled, raised one eyebrow, “Hey, so what can I get you? We have roast beef, salmon steaks, honey roast ham. Or I could …”
“Please,” Vanessa protested. “I’ll just have whatever Jonathan’s having. Don’t go to any additional fuss on my account.”
Susan smiled fully, looking at Jonathan. “Ball’s in your court as always, Jon.”
Jon?
“As I like it!” He winked at her. Vanessa felt a pang of jealousy at their closeness, and although Susan was at least forty, she was a toned, tanned, white toothed and radiant forty. She was also blonde, and Vanessa longed to be her natural blonde again.
“Well then, get those salmon steaks on the griddle and we’ll be back in 20 minutes,” said Jonathan.
Jonathan moved towards Vanessa, lightly pulling her along with him by her elbow. The connection was exciting in itself, but his hurry to share something with her, just her, made Vanessa smile.
They stopped by his music area in the lounge and he told Vanessa to sit on the mushroom bed—sofa. Vanessa did so, and couldn’t imagine ever climbing out of the cloudlike cushiony softness of its folds. “Oh now then, this is comfort incarnate.”
“Great way to put it.” Jonathan sniggered, messing with his CD’s behind me. “I got that specially made in the UK and sent over. Worth every penny.
Vanessa sprang up quicker than she thought possible, “You did what? Whatever for? Couldn’t someone local provide a good enough sofa for you?”
Jonathan turned and said, “Yikes. You can be scary when you want to be, huh?”
Vanessa was not amused.
“Why does my extravagance disgust you so much?” asked Jonathan. “Or is it that you think it should disgust you, in an ethical, moralistic sense, hence the over-the-top reactions?” Jonathan tilted his head, leaning against the wall, arms folded, awaiting her reply.
“Oh, it disgusts me all right, because it is unnecessary and wasteful.”
“Driving your own car is unnecessary, when public transport is available. Having sex is unnecessary if getting pregnant is not the required result. Playing sport offers little more than exercise and the chance to win, and falling in love is surely nothing more than a trap in which we all long to fall. And yet …”
“You do?” You want to fall in love? “You surprise me, Mr. Bachelor.”
“All you took from my brilliant argument was the bit about love. Ha.” He smiled triumphantly, erected his spine and placed his hands on the back of the sofa, leering at Vanessa. “I adore this, it is therefore extremely necessary,” he said, then flung himself over and onto his source of joy.
Vanessa looked on, wanting nothing more than to jump onto it, next to him.
“Ah!” he groaned, closing his eyes. “I paid a lot for this feeling Vanessa. My professional life is one long stress, but this eases that stress.”
“I can see that but…”
“-But it helps that having it specially made, fed a lot of poor people in India, who prepared this fabric for me. I sent an expert in textiles out there to teach them how to make it. Now, they might take that newly found talent, and the money I paid them, and open their own factory. Employing their family, friends, whoever, so they can feed more than themselves for one year, perhaps instead, for a lifetime. Or not, it’s up to them. That’s Fairtrade sweet, lovely, Vanessa. And I always deal in Fairtrade.
Oh, that’s good.”
“Either way,” added Jonathan. “I feel zero guilt about wanting this comfort in my living room.”
“Oh, well.” I’m a dick. “I … I guess it’s not for me to judge, anyway.”
“Yes, it absolutely is. I like that you care, it’s a rare attribute in the people I surround myself with. But trust that I’m not a megalomaniac, and come sit with me. It really is incredibly comfortable.”
A devilish smile hooked her, dragging Vanessa to him like a fisherman’s line, “Well, if you put it like that.” She sat next to him on the edge of the seat, but he pulled her back by her waist, so that she ended up lying next to him practically. “There, isn’t that better? You cannot sit on the edge of a sofa like this.”
“Err, thanks.” Vanessa felt her cheeks heating up and move up toward the backrest to feel less awkwardly reclined. “I um, imagine you’ve made excellent use of the fact that this is more bed than sofa, Mr Jergan.”
He feigned shock, “Really! Miss Stiles, you are awfully presumptuous, even shocking in your accusations. Do you know the laws on libel?”
“Ha, so you don’t deny it. Then I have to assume …”
“You know what assume did.””
“Yeah, yeah, it made an ass of you and me. That’s kind of old, Jon.”
They both chuckled, until their hands touched quite by accident and made them look at one another. A si
lent message passed between them for a time, broken only by Susan calling, “Jon, Miss Stiles, lunch is ready.”
Jonathan’s eyes gleamed and a smile swallowed his face, “Oh, excellent.” he called in reply. “You may leave us, Susan. We can sort things out from here. See you in the morning.”
“Hey, thanks Jon.”
Jonathan jumped up off the sofa and replied, “No problem. Enjoy the afternoon.”
“Well, I need to do a few errands so I’ll be busy. See you again, Miss Stiles; lovely to have met you.”
“Please call me Vanessa, Susan. I feel a hundred years old being call Miss Stiles.”
“Very good, Vanessa it is.” said Susan, smiling.
Vanessa watched as she grabbed a bag and her car keys from a closet between the lounge area and the kitchen, and waved. “You too,” said Vanessa “and thanks for lunch.”
Jonathan grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the sofa, which had a tight swamp-like hold of her. “Now, let’s go eat, shall we?”
“She likes you, I can tell,” said Jonathan.
“How could you know that, we only just met? Briefly!”
“She engaged with you. Usually, she acts as though my friends are invisible.”
His friends? How many women does he bring up here? Ugh, how clean is that sofa? “Oh, so you bring all your lady friends up here?”
“Well, I have brought a few up here, yes. It’s my apartment, and I’m a single man. Unless you think I should have taken them to an alley, or have an entirely separate home for each woman, or a harem tucked away somewhere, perhaps?”
“Well, of course not. That’s…”
“Extravagant, I know!” He winked. “So, where do you take your gentlemen friends? Will I ever see your home?”
“Not now I’ve seen yours. And no, there haven’t been any gentlemen friends for around five years.” Shit, no he’s going to want to know why.
He gaped, “Why on earth not? Are you gay, ill, not into sex at all? That’s an awfully long dry spell.”
“A what?” She thought about it, but there was no way she would tell him. He would hate her for not telling him sooner. What if he called the whole thing off, she’d … miss him, and the freedom the payoff offered. “I’m not into one night stands and relationships haven’t worked out for me. That’s all there is to it. No great mystery,” she lied.
He frowned, “Oh. But don’t you get, you know, frustrated?”
“Now you’re being grim. Let’s just say I take care of my own business. How about you do the same?” Head down, cheeks flushing, she walked into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table, ready to eat. Hoping that would close the topic, she cleared her throat and said, “Um, smells yummy.”
Apart from this discussion reminding her of Mike, she didn't want to think of Jonathan with other women. She didn’t like to think of sex as something so … perfunctory, either. Why am I thinking like this? You’ve already told him you’re not interested in this as anything more than a professional relationship, so why do you always want it to be something more than that?
“Yes it does, fancy a Chardonnay with that?”
Vanessa took a bite of the salmon and her mouth watered at the deliciously spiced coating, “Yeah, if you like. This is incredible.” she swallowed. “I can’t cook you know. You should probably know that. I mean, for the INS.”
“Here,” he offered her a glass of crisp white wine and sat beside her. “Cool. That’s why I bought you up here; for us to get to know each other in a comfortable and secure environment. It’s too formal at the office, don’t you think?”
“Shit,” she forgot all about work. “Am I late back? Beth will kill me.”
“Not if I fire her boney butt first. Can’t stand that woman. She’s been on a power trip since she got that promotion, and she needs taking down a peg or two. Say the word and it’s done.”
“Wow, don’t tempt me. She’s a cow.” Could I? Could I? “Oh, damn it. No. Not just for me. That’s wrong. I can deal with her. Plus, she really is the best gossip to spread our news to everyone. You should probably let her know if I’m going to be late.” She took another mouthful of salmon, which melted in her mouth. “That’s extraordinarily good; I’m used to eating frozen fish, boil in the bag. You know?”
“No, I’m pleased to say. But I’ll pass on your appraisal to Susan. She will be pleased.”
They sniggered again. After lunch, Jonathan sent word to Beth not to expect Vanessa back, and although she felt a little naughty, she liked it. They continued to chatter, laugh, and share stories about their lives, late into the night. Vanessa held on to her secrets, and prayed they would never have to be shared. Least of all with Jonathan, who seemed to think of her as some innocent, inexperienced, sweet-heart. When in truth, she’d amassed too many bad experiences during her young life, and was far from innocent.
This nightly sharing exercise became routine, although Vanessa tried to mix it up a little bit. She made excuses if he wanted her to go to his apartment two Wednesdays in a row, for example. She would go on Thursday instead. She would lie and say she was meeting Danielle, or had to attend a kickboxing class, or whatever. But when he started inviting her almost every night of the week, she bent those rules, little by little. How could she not? She found herself thinking about him all the time, her work suffered, she neglected her only friendship. It could only mean one thing, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she smiled, laid in her bed, enjoyed how dreams of Jonathan slowly replaced the nightmares of Mike. And she told herself everything would work out in the end.
~
At work on Monday morning, sipping on her coffee, she checked her email eager to read the morning message from her contracted boyfriend and boss. And there it was, waiting.
To: Vanessa Stiles (Little Minx)
From: Jonathan Jergan (Sex God!)
I made a playlist for you and sent it via this iTunes link. Download it onto your iPod and have a listen. You may find it an acquired taste upon first listen, but your taste awaits a feast. Give your senses a chance. I have a feeling there’s more to you than even you are aware of Vanessa.
See you later?
PS: An envelope is on its way to you. Your car keys, as per our arrangement, will be inside it. Take them to my parking space in the underground car park. Next to my car, is yours. All the ownership papers are in the glove compartment. I hope it will do for now.
Jonathan X
She clicked the iTunes link, fighting the bubbles of excitement erupting in her tummy, like fireworks. “Holy shit, he got my car! And made me a friggin playlist…” Then she attached her iPod and pressed sync. When it popped to signal the sync had completed, she popped the ear-buds in her ears and pressed play on a playlist called: Bluesy Love Soundtrack for Vanessa.
The first song was one she knew well; Rolling in the Deep by Adele. Reading down the list however, she didn’t recognize many of the other songs:
“Use Me,” Bill Withers (1972), “Love To Love You Baby, by Donna Summer (1975), “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl,” by Nina Simone (1968), “I Just Want to Make Love to You,” Etta James (1961), “Whole Lotta Love,” Led Zeppelin (1969), “That’s Where It’s At,” Sam Cooke (1964), “These Arms of Mine,” Otis Redding (1962), and finally “Love and Happiness,” Al Green (1972).
“Okay, there’s an overriding message her. Next time I go to his place Barry White better not be playing.” she chuckled. “Let’s see if I like any of you lot, then.” She smiled, listened to Adele’s smooth voice while looking out for the courier who would deliver her keys.
But there was no courier, only Danielle, who came storming up to Vanessa. “Hello stranger.” Vanessa dropped one ear bud, but kept the other one in place. “So, he has you for lunch and dinner now, and all I get is to deliver you a parcel. Here.” Danielle didn’t look too pleased, grimacing at Vanessa while handing her a small envelope.
Vanessa grabbed the parcel and ripped it open. When she saw the key-fob, she frowned. “N
o way.”
“What are they? Why’s he sending you car keys for a Mercedes? They his keys? Why’s he sending you his keys?”
“No, they’re not his keys.” Are they? Did he send the wrong keys? “I asked him to sort me out a new car. Mine’s dead and well, he has great connections, as you well know. Being his PA.” Vanessa didn’t want to be scrutinized. She just wanted to run and see her new car, and listen to her new playlist. “Um, sorry, but I have to collect the paperwork.”
Danielle said, “A Merc?” She frowned. “You can’t afford one of those.”
Vanessa ignored her, and her unspoken allegation, moving towards the lifts with her head in a spin she could only offer, “Sorry, gotta go,” and she speed walked to the elevator before anyone else tried to slow her down with questions.
“Well I’m coming with you.” Danielle jogged behind, following Vanessa. “Hold that lift.”
They rode the lift in silence; each in their own heads, both wondering if Jonathan actually bought her a Mercedes.
When they left the lift, Vanessa ran to Jonathan’s spot in the executive parking area, with Danielle hot on her trial. Even in platform heels, she still kept up.
Adele finished singing, and “Use Me,” by Bill Withers came on just as she reached Jonathan’s silver Aston Martin. Right next to it was indeed, a shiny new, red Mercedes with all the extras.
Vanessa’s heart boomed in her ears and she gulped. “It can’t be mine, it’s a mistake. This should be a Corolla, or something like a Corolla, for Christ sake,” she said to no one.
“Well, this is no Corolla, Ness,” swooned Danielle. “Can he get me one? How much you have to pay?”
She couldn’t think straight or quick enough to lie, so she ignored the question. Instead, she pressed the lock button on her key-fob, and gasped when the locks unopened and the lights flashed. Danielle simply stared, mouth open, when Vanessa grabbed her and spun her around. “Sweet god in heaven, spank me silly with a toilet brush, it’s actually mine Dan!”
When she replaced a stunned and envious Danielle on the ground, Vanessa softly approached her new Mercedes, gripped the handle on the driver’s door and opened it. She climbed in, inhaled the smell of new leather, then fought tears of joy as she listened to the all too appropriate song still playing on her iPod. Tear-filled eyes struggled to read the words on a note left for her on the steering wheel: “Don’t think of this as extravagant, but as a necessary piece of the facade. My future wife wouldn’t drive anything less.” X
