Layers

by Sigal Ehrlich

  Wow, I wouldn’t want to be the person at the other end.

  “I’ll be there shortly,” he says in a low, voice, blended with fury. Hearing that, a stab of disappointment surges through me. Is he leaving?

  “And one last thing, Jake. Have a box ready, because I might want to fire you when I get there.”

  So long Dr. Jekyll, and welcome Mr. Hyde. Psycho …

  Daniel stands up, all annoyed, and takes a long sip of his cup, draining it. Is that it? Our time’s up? Just like that?

  “I’ve got to go work for the people I pay salaries to,” he explains, agitated, sarcasm dripping from his voice and his smile far from touching his eyes.

  “Well, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.” I smile at him, trying to conceal my growing disappointment. “It was a pleasure,” I add. He seems as though he isn’t with me anymore, his thoughts elsewhere. Daniel, back to earth … no reception, none whatsoever.

  “See you,” he mutters and starts walking toward the exit. I sit frozen, looking at him, stunned. That’s the goodbye? That’s the same playful, charming person I just had coffee with? I follow his departing back with my stare and I notice his shoes again, the same ones as mine, those he complimented me on in his office, which now seems like ages ago.

  “Hey, Daniel,” I call after him. Startled, he turns to look my way.

  “Cool shoes.” I grin at him. It takes him a moment but as he seems to register what I said and regards me with a radiant smile, and then, all of a sudden, as if recalling my presence, he comes back. Reaching my side, he bends to give me a hug, catching me totally off guard. Well, Dr. Jekyll is back. Doing that, he manages to spill the mineral water bottle on himself, and his black tee gets wet.

  “Fuck,” he breathes.

  “Is that a request?” I ask faintly, blinking, mirroring his own words from our first encounter. His face lights up as if on cue.

  “I have a meeting,” he adds, referring to his soaked shirt, his smile still intact.

  “I live close by,” I say. “I can have it dried for you in ten.” He stares at me introspectively, and then grimaces. “That would help.” And all I can think of is: Daniel Stark is coming to my apartment.

  ~~~

  On our way to the apartment, walking side by side, I ask him what he meant by “that rarely happens” in his email.

  “Nothing passes by your exhaustive observation, does it?” He sends me a small side smile. I nod, biting my lip, looking forward to his reply.

  “People rarely amuse me, and I don’t usually do coffees.” Saying that, he fetches his phone and appears to start checking his emails, his expression altering to an impassive seriousness. So people don’t usually amuse you, Daniel, and you don’t do coffees. Am I a special case? Charity case, I mock myself.

  “And here is our humble casa,” I declare as we step inside.

  Daniel observes the surroundings. “Nice casa, very colorful.” He gestures toward the “royal” orange and green dining area. I shrug, amused.

  “So, I’ll need your shirt now, Daniel,” I playfully command, putting out my hand, leaving my arm stretched in front of him, demanding.

  “We aren’t even a foot in and you already want me naked? Everything has its time, Hayley.” His eyes manifest sin. I know that he’s kidding but the thought of him without a shirt plus his innuendo make me uneasy. He observes me profoundly and with the wickedest look, as if I were bait, and without tearing his eyes from mine he lifts his shirt off over his head. Holy hell, he should be banned from wearing tops, ever. I gasp.

  “Here you go,” he hands me his shirt, still warm with body heat. His eyes burn into me as I swallow hard. I can’t help but quickly peek at him before heading toward the dryer. He has a spiral tattoo decorating his left shoulder; it looks like phrases in some ancient characters. Any other thought but of his body flies out of my mind.

  I return to find him standing in the entrance to our corridor.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” he asks. Our stares immediately latch.

  “Next door to the left,” I reply, stealing yet another quick glance at him as I do. For a minute, we stand facing each other, eyes intently connected; tension is building between us, charging the gap between our bodies. He starts walking slowly toward me, not leaving my stare; my heart is in my throat, welling with anticipation. Facing me, his eyes move to settle on my lips and my breath grows heavier.

  “Honey, I’m home, hide the milkman.” Now, Tasha, now?

  Daniel turns around to face the voice.

  “Oh, and you are with the milkman,” Tasha comments dryly, looking our way into the darkened corridor.

  “Hello,” Daniel utters.

  “Well, hello to you too,” Tasha responds, noticing his lack of shirt.

  I start walking toward her and Daniel proceeds towards our bathroom door. As he passes by me the back of my hand brushes his bare side, he looks down my way and our eyes melt into each other. For that brief instant it feels as though we have some special connection. He smiles at me meaningfully and I echo his expression. There is a new look in his eyes and I can’t quite make out what lies behind it. Those butterflies again.

  Hearing the door close, confident that Daniel is out of earshot, I hug Tasha and whisper, “Where were you last night? I needed you!”

  “Hales, I was so dead tired. I slept half way through the end of the movie and then couldn’t even imagine driving back. So what’s going on in here? Who? When? Why? Wow, gory details, pronto!”

  “Eloquently challenged doesn’t agree with you, Miss Taylor.”

  “Stop being a smart ass and spill the dirt, you naughty girl. Having a half-naked man around while I’m gone …” She smiles devilishly, looking eager for my response. And as I’m about to brief her, at least with the highlights, I notice her expression changing. Her eyes widen and her mouth slightly drops.

  “Daniel Stark,” she exclaims in complete surprise.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss …?” He tilts his head questioningly, and extends his hand for a shake, an amused smile tugging on his lips. The look of awe doesn’t leave her eyes as Tasha reciprocates Daniel’s shake.

  “Taylor,” Tasha manages to finally reply, her jaw not yet back to its natural position.

  “The friend I should thank?” Daniel raises his eyebrows with half a playful smile. I nod assent with a smirk of my own while Tasha observes us.

  Nonchalantly, Daniel settles himself on one of the kitchen barstools, facing us both as though this is the most natural thing in the world for him. As if he hung with us on a daily basis, usually without a top. As if he were Ian. He sneaks a glance my way. In the corner of my eye I can see Tasha’s inquiring look scrutinizing me.

  “Daniel spilled water on his shirt by accident. We’re waiting for it to dry.” I try to answer Tasha’s quizzical look though I’m pretty sure her one and only question is what the hell Daniel Stark’s doing in our flat.

  “Oh, now it makes sense, exactly what I thought,” Tasha, coming back to her senses, mutters dryly.

  Daniel and I laugh as one. He gives me the sweetest look, and I feel tiny warm waves deliciously circling my stomach. Noticing us, Tasha declares, “There’s something I need to do, and it must be done anywhere else on the planet but in here.” She winks at us both and heads to her room without further ado. Thank you, Tasha, thank you! Deep inside I know that she’s dying to stay and see what’s going on here.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask him now that we’re alone, not sure what’s next with him sitting there gloriously bare bodied in front of me. Jump him?

  He taps his fingers at the green surface of our breakfast counter. Tense?

  “Thanks, but I should be leaving soon,” he answers. His eyes reflect some sort of annoyance. I assume remembering the call he had just before we left the coffee shop.

  “I’ll check the dryer,” I say and he nods, his gaze following me till I’m out of sight down the corridor. Even the mere thought of his eyes looking at me
makes a warm feeling spread inside. Taking the shirt out of the dryer, I hold it in my hands, feeling the soft, warm fabric. Upset that it’s already dry. Touching it, I think about the fact that it was on him just a short while ago and slowly lift it to my nose, inhaling deep. Clean, with a hint of spice and musky fragrance. I keep taking in the scent for a few more seconds, fighting with myself to cease. It’s got to be given back to its owner. Perv. That was the purpose of taking it out of the dryer. I am totally losing it.

  “Here you go.” I hand him back his shirt. He takes it away from me, his eyes reaching intensely into mine. Our fingers brush for an instant, sending small shudders from my hand to my core. I watch him put his shirt on, and when his eyes meet mine again they have a naughty glee in them. I take in a long, audible breath. He smiles and I feel my face warm slightly.

  “Thank you for a lovely morning, Hayley J Grace.” His tongue gently caresses my name as he voices it.

  “Thank you for a lovely morning, Daniel Stark.”

  He sends me his crooked smile then lifts his hand toward my face, stroking my cheek with the tips of his fingers. His act of sweet intimacy leaves me entirely unbalanced. With that, he starts walking toward the door.

  “See you, Hayley,” he says as he opens the door. “See you, Daniel.” I watch him for a moment. The sooner the better.

  He steps out, closing the door behind him, and then he’s gone. I lean against the door, troubled by the fact that I’m as upset about his leaving as I am. I shouldn’t, not with him …

  Chapter 6: Indecent Intentions

  Doesn’t take Tasha too long to be by my side, distracting me from my thoughts, her entire posture screaming curiosity.

  She raises an eyebrow at me and bluntly asks, “Well?”

  I look at my watch. Crap, it’s already eleven. I should be at work in twenty. “Give me a ride to work and I’ll fill you in.” I give Tasha an apologetic look, and she scowls.

  “Tash, I should really be at work in twenty, or else Mrs. Never Gets Laid will have my butt on the grill.” Tasha twists her mouth playfully.

  “Okay, just stop whining.”

  As she presses the button to let the top down I skim through the player and leave it at “Paper Airplanes.”

  The mellow folky/blues music funnels into the car as Tasha turns my way. “It’s story time.”

  I grin at her and start from the so-called interview at Stark Software, filling her in with a thorough minute-by-minute account of our encounters that finally led to a half-naked Daniel Stark in our home.

  “Hold on,” Tasha says, raising her manicured finger, and turns to dial. And I can just imagine where this call is directed.

  “S’up gorgeous?” A too-loud yelp tears the calm ambiance.

  “Super E, you are on speaker and we have the one and only Miss Grace with us.”

  “Gorgeous Miss Grace.”

  I giggle at Ian’s as-ever bursting energy.

  “Listening time,” Tasha declares authoritatively, prompting an immediate silence from us both. “Now, you, Missy, continue the tale.” She turns my way and then goes back to focus on the curving road ahead. And I obey.

  “Oh my god, I’ve just Googled him. This is one steamy creature. When do I get the full report of how he is in terms of making your girlie parts dazzle?” Both Tasha and I turn into a noisily squeaking duo.

  “So I gather you assume there will be experiments with exchanging liquids?”

  “With this guy, bet your tight ass there’ll be! Any chance he’s playing for both teams?” I roll my eyes.

  Ian is like the Tasmanian devil when it comes to hot guys: he must consume everything that looks even remotely delectable.

  “Have no idea. Don’t think so, but I’ll make sure to ask him the first chance I get.”

  Tasha snickers and I shake my head with half a smile.

  “So, gorgeous ladies, I gotta go. Do him, Hales, that’s an order. Ciao!”

  “Love ya,” we chorus and the line drops. Tasha and I trade amused glances and fall into a pleasant, contemplative silence.

  About ten minutes into our drive I say, idly, half to Tasha half to myself, “Seriously, I have no idea what he really wants with me.”

  Tasha sends me a derisive glance. “I mean, I know what he wants, I’ve been playing this game for far too long … I can sense attraction better than anyone, but it’s just …” I sigh.

  “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Do I really have to remind you how many broken hearts you have under your belt? And I’m referring to just the last couple of years.” She wrinkles her nose, and continues with, “You’re such a sweet, witty, beautiful and intelligent person.”

  I beam at her. “Well, my dear, you couldn’t be more objective.”

  “How do you feel about all of this?” she asks, her expression turning solemn.

  “He’s intriguing and charming in a bad boy kind of way,” I say, pondering, “and absolutely hot. He acts as though it’s more than just plain attraction, but I’m pretty sure he’s the biggest player.”

  “Oh, a male version of you.”

  “Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Well, just do him, like Ian suggested, and go from there.” She concludes in an assertive tone, effortlessly dismissing the doubt in subject.

  “But you know how I feel about that … been there, done that. You know better than anyone what I’m not looking for.”

  Who better than Tasha knows about my sordid history? About how, for the last few years, by choice, I didn’t have a “relationship” that lasted longer than one night, longer than an orgasm …

  She fixes her framed white Jackie O. sunglasses, adjusting them on the bridge of her pointy nose. “Hales, I know that you’ve stopped fucking for nothing. But make an exception with this irresistible, virile, mega-attractive guy, one last time. And by all means, girl, don’t make it more than it is,” she states, putting to words what we both think. She does have a talent for doing that.

  “Fucking for nothing,” I snicker. “Classy.” Tasha mirrors my amused stare.

  Pulling the car to a stop, she turns to me and says, “Come on, he’s incredibly sexy. Hell, he’s Daniel ‘Hottie’ Stark.” She grins. “My best friend is going to do Daniel Stark.”

  I can’t help but laugh at her cheerful declaration.

  “We have all these indecent plans for him and I’m not even sure he’ll call again,” I murmur. “If there’s something I cannot do, it’s anticipating this guy.” Given our brief history, I sigh deeply.

  Perhaps I should just call him up and say, Hey Daniel, the unanimous verdict has been rendered—I am to do you, let’s fuck?

  Chapter 7: The Very Last Time

  “Honey, I’m home,” I call out.

  “In the shower,” Tasha yells back, a bit too loudly.

  Realizing I haven’t eaten today I prepare myself a small dinner of goat cheese, artichoke hearts in olive oil, and some crackers.

  “What’s up with your phone? Is it dead?” Tasha asks, approaching me, towel around her head, wearing her silk blue nightgown, her face still pink from the shower.

  “What do you mean? Did you try to reach me?”

  “Just about a hundred times, nothing serious,” she replies, her eyes dancing with disquiet. Recognizing this look of hers, I know she has something to share with me, and she’s thrilled about it, whatever it is. I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and find out it was switched off, probably for some time now.

  “What is it? What’s with the I’ve-got-something-to-tell-you look, Tash?” I ask her, taking another bite from my cracker. I watch the tiny crumbs as they fall down on the counter and immediately brush them off. She leans against the mosaic pole that secures our kitchen counter.

  “I was called for an interview at Stark Software earlier today.”

  “Oh,” is the only thing I manage to articulate, all of a sudden feeling somewhat insecure. Perhaps Daniel is interested in her too …
What’s up with me?

  “With Mrs. Greenich,” Tasha emphasizes, as if reading my mind. I wince, feeling uncomfortable with my previous, embarrassing thought. Was I that obvious?

  “I’m so happy for you. This is what you wanted.” I radiate content her way, still feeling a tad timid.

  “Yes, I just hope I’ll make a good impression,” she responds pensively, her eyes boring into some point in space behind me. “Do you think it has anything to do with you and Daniel?” Her question hangs in the air between us for a lengthy pause.

  “I have no idea. I don’t know what he wants or what he thinks. Besides, you’re more than qualified, so I don’t believe it has anything to do with him and me.” There isn’t really a him and me anyhow.

  “You must be right.” She pulls down the towel and lets her dark hair fall in wet clusters on her back.

  “I think I’ll have a shower too and go to bed,” I say, picking up some cracker crumbs and putting them in my mouth.

  “I’ll alert the media,” she responds, making me snort.

  “I’m watching TV, if you want to join.” She snuggles on our white sofa, pulling a deep purple chenille blanket on herself.

  “Don’t think so.” I clear up the counter, putting my plate in the dishwasher, and head to the shower.

  ~~~

  Lying in bed, I can’t help but think of Daniel. I fetch my laptop to check what my reliable friend, Google, can tell me about him.

  About 33,100 results in under 0.23 seconds. I choose the Forbes link and the information immediately displays:

  Daniel Stark

  Net Worth $1.9 B as of June 2012.

  Wow, baby’s got some dimes in his piggybank … zillions of them! I knew he had to be wealthy, but that wealthy? Judging by his appearance, you’d never even suspect he could be that rich. His laid-back simplicity, this special way he had about him, is much more attractive than his crazy loot.

  At a Glance

  Age: 34

  Source of Wealth: Software, self-made