“I like your suggestion. Javar is the next best option.”
“He was my trip companion throughout most of Europe.”
“And the two of you never had a…” He narrows one eye.
“No, we never had a…” I copy his facial expression.
Dexter laughs as he stands. “I’ll update Kristin. She’s going to love this.” His desk phone rings, and he answers it. His eyes expand before he hands the receiver to me. “It’s for you.”
I’m taken aback. “Who is it?”
“Your father.”
I’m stunned. “Jacques?”
Jacques has invited me to his performance on Saturday night at a venue near the Riverwalk on Dearborn Avenue. Kristin becomes nicer to me after she finds out that I’ve relinquished my role as the host. Alone in a bathtub is the last place I want to be tonight, so when Dexter asks me to join them for dinner, I say yes.
We go out in a large group of mostly unfriendly women and their men. The chef is cooking Italian cuisine, which is one of my favorites. A lot of conversations take place around me, but I smile and pretend I’m paying attention. Kristin, Kate, and Emma are planning a couples’ kickball game this Saturday. Kate suggests Lincoln Square Park, but Kristin says it’s too big and crowded on the weekends.
“What about Lakeshore East Park?” Emma says.
“Where’s that?” Kate asks.
“That’s right outside your front door, isn’t it?” Dexter asks me.
I’m suddenly hot under the collar. The girls intend to exclude me, and I want to be excluded. I didn’t even think Dexter was listening to them since Melissa has been monopolizing all his attention.
“Is it? I don’t know. It’s my parents’ condo, so…” I say.
Then I hear, “Aren’t you married to Jack Lord?”
I feel as though my head turns in slow motion. When Emma asks the question, everyone at the table acknowledges my presence. I like it better when they are deliberately ignoring me. I clear my throat and square my shoulders as if I’m readying for a showdown. “I am.”
“Is he in town? You two can come to the kickball game together.”
I fidget. “He’s in town, but we don’t play kickball. Thanks for asking.” My tone is icy.
“You two are divorcing, no?” Kate asks.
I spear the salty pasta on my plate. In all the hours we’ve worked together, they haven’t mentioned Belmont since that night at karaoke, at least not in my presence. I can sense their curiosity and know they have been talking about me behind my back though.
I’m not used to mean-girl tactics. I’m the outsider, and they have continued to treat me that way. Emma and Kate are Kristin’s friends, and that’s how they got their jobs. That’s why she’s always giving them assignments. Damien and Braden where hired after a rigid interview process. They do all the heavy lifting, and they’re the associate producers I usually work with.
So I show the mean girls how we deal with stupid people like them where I’m from. I continue eating and pretend as if she never asked that question. After a while, the conversation slowly turns back to kickball, but I’m still mad as hell. Dexter keeps flashing his smile and bright blue eyes at me. I give him a weak smile, and Melissa works harder to maintain his attention.
I check my watch. Thirty minutes have passed since Kate asked the offensive question. I calmly set my fork on my plate and take my napkin off my lap and lay it on the table. “Well, I’ve had good time. See you all tomorrow,” I announce to whoever’s listening.
I rise to my feet, and Dexter joins me.
Melissa is caught off-guard. “Are you leaving?”
I wave, signaling him to sit back down. “No, stay. I’ll just walk up Wacker.”
“It’s fine,” he says, walking in my direction.
“I’ll go with you guys,” Melissa says.
Dexter holds up a hand. “No, we’re fine.” He doesn’t give her a second look.
I shrug as he puts his hand on my back and walks me out. The tension follows us out the door. I shiver as soon as the cold seizes me.
Dexter drapes his overcoat across my shoulders. “Better?”
“You didn’t have to leave, you know.”
He shrugs as he blows into his hands to keep warm. “I was bored.”
“You seemed to be having a good time. You should take your coat back if you’re cold.”
“I don’t want it back. And you seemed to be having a bad time.”
“I can’t believe Kate asked that. I’m aware that the girls on the team don’t care for me, but she crossed the line.”
“You handled her pretty well.”
“Thanks,” I say. He blows into his hands again, so I curl my arm around his waist. “Better?”
He pulls me closer. “A lot.”
We cling to each other as we cross the bridge over the lake. I admire how the city lights paint the surface of the water.
“You want to grab a drink?” he asks.
I smile wryly as I shake my head.
He smirks. “What’s that face for?”
I shrug.
“What?”
“Are you flirting with me?” my voice rings with curiosity.
He laughs. “A bit, but I’m a flirt.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re beautiful, Daisy. You don’t seem to care about that, which makes you even more appealing. But if I make a move on you, Javar would…” He runs a finger across his neck.
I roll my eyes. Javar’s infatuation with me is so insane. I haven’t the slightest attraction toward him. He’s not unattractive. He’s simply not my type. “How do you know Javar anyway?”
He stops us in front of Houlihan’s. “I can answer that over a drink.”
It’s still too early to go home if I want to avoid thinking about Belmont. I gesture toward the door. “After you.”
“After you,” Dexter says.
He opens the door, and we’re lucky to find two empty stools at the crowded bar. Dexter orders a whisky, and I get a glass of Merlot.
“So you were going to say?” I ask.
“Ah, Javar. He’s my sister’s husband’s brother.”
I grin. “He’s such a cocky son of a gun. I wonder why he never told me he has a brother.”
“You two are that close?”
“He taught me how to swim the seas.”
He looks at me askew. “And you never sealed the deal?”
I take a sip of wine. “No. I had a boyfriend that I didn’t love, or like, but nevertheless, I made a commitment to that jackass.” I latch on to Dexter’s hearty laugh.
“And now you have a husband,” he says.
“And Javar knows this, right?”
“He knows. He also knows you’re on the rocks.”
“Oh yeah?” I sigh. “He’s like Belmont, and you. He’s tall, good-looking, and walks as though he expects the whole world to fall at his feet.”
Dexter nearly chokes on his whiskey. “Who me?”
“Maybe not.”
“You think your husband’s arrogant?”
“I wouldn’t say arrogant. He’s not used to rejection, and neither is Javar. When I first met Belmont, I rejected him, and he just couldn’t stand it. He’s constantly chasing me because I’m always pushing him away. I don’t do it on purpose. I used to wonder if I just gave in and became exactly who he wants me to be, would he retreat?”
“Who does he want you to be?”
I shake my head. “Hell if I know. But what do men like you want? I mean, you say I’m beautiful, but so what? If the standards of beauty changed tomorrow, then I wouldn’t be beautiful and neither would you.” I’m lightheaded, and my lips are loose. “Real people who feel human walk with the slightest hunch.” I curve my shoulders to show him. “Like this.”
Dexter’s expression beams with amusement. “I walk with a hunch.”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t. You walk like… you know.”
“Like I know?”
“Yeah… like you certainly know.”
“Like I know what?”
“You’re at the top of the pyramid. You have your choice. And so does my husband. My husband…” I consider taking another drink. The wine is strong, and my tolerance is so low that not even an ant could reach it.
“So you think I’m beautiful?” he asks, smiling impishly.
“Very.”
“Well, Jack Lord’s an idiot.”
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “What he did was inexcusable, but I have problems. That’s why I walk with a hunch. I have problems, but I know that. He has problems, and he doesn’t get it.”
“I have problems. Ask my ex-wife.”
I raise my glass. “You know what? It just came to me. My husband wants me to really want it.”
Dexter frowns, confused.
“He wants me to show him who I really am,” I say.
“Then who are you?”
I put on my best Jack Nicholson sneer. “Here’s looking at her… Wait, that wasn’t Humphrey Bogart.” My head is spinning.
Dexter laughs and signals the bartender, who comes right over.
“That never happens,” Dexter mutters.
The bartender points at me. “Wine and whisky?”
“I’m cut off,” I say.
“A wine and a whisky,” Dexter says.
“Got it.” The bartender turns away before I can object.
“I’m not drinking it,” I assure Dexter.
“Let loose. I’m not going to take advantage of you. You’re safe.”
I sigh deeply and rest my head on my palm. “It’s not about letting loose. I don’t like feeling inebriated. I love being in the moment. Where do you live anyway?” My brain is scattered.
“I’m staying in a brownstone on the north side. They call it the Gold Coast.”
I perk up. “One of those beautiful brownstones with the big windows and come-hither lighting inside?”
“I like the sound of come-hither. Have you been to my neighborhood?”
“The other night. We went for a drive.” I try to erase my memory of Belmont’s touch, smell, and how he felt inside me.
“We?”
“My husband and I.” I take a healthy gulp of wine.
“Oh?” he says.
“Is the brownstone yours?”
“It belongs to a friend of mine. He’s in New York. He wants me to buy it though.”
“Are you going to?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I can give you a showing if you like.”
“Well, you’re living in it now.”
“That’s okay. Do you want to see it tonight?”
I snicker. “I thought I was safe with you?”
“I only want to show the house, not my bed. Plus, I don’t like being alone, and I like hanging out with you.”
I tap the rim of my glass. I feel the same way. It’s as if he and I are kindred spirits. “You have coffee?” I figure why not throw caution to the wind? Belmont certainly has.
“Plenty, and a fancy machine to make it,” he says.
I hop off my stool and stumble into his chest. He steadies me.
“Then let’s go.” I say.
“Goddamn, woman, no more wine for you.”
We laugh. Dexter holds me steady as he pays the tab, then we walk out into the night. He hails a cab, and I rest my head on the seat and close my eyes. A familiar song is playing, and Dexter is singing along. For some reason, I know the chorus. I sing along with him. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with a smile.
“Who sings this song?” I ask.
“It’s ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player.”
“Jacques used to play this, and a million other songs I know the lyrics to. But I don’t know who sings them or the title.”
“Then you should’ve been better at karaoke.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me of that stupid pastime.”
“You hate it that much?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, guys like to see beautiful women like you murder a song. It makes you seem mortal.”
“So is that what karaoke’s all about? Taking the edge off?”
He chuckles as the car turns down a most enchanting street. “It can be an aid to getting laid.”
We laugh as the car stops, and we slide out. The iron streetlamps are old-fashioned. The leaves of trees sway over the streets and sidewalks. I’m still woozy. Dexter takes my arm and leads me to the steps.
“One second.” I stop before we reach the top. “Let me…”
I want to savor the details. The building is made of white stone. The tall oblong windows, which are upstairs and downstairs, protrude, and the large wooden doors are like the kind in old movies. I notice the lantern-styled light fixtures, the lines etched into the walls, the crown molding, and the cute balconies that are only wide enough to set flower pots and herb gardens on.
“Gorgeous,” I remark.
I grab on to the sound of his breathy, “Yeah.”
One by one, I climb the steps. My feet are heavy. Dexter retrieves his keys from his jacket that I’m still wearing. We giggle when he fondles my hip. What a silly night we’re having. It’s fun. Once we’re inside, I plop down on the white leather sofa. Dexter kindles the electric fireplace. My gaze rolls around the room. The floors are hardwood, and all the furniture is contemporary.
“Are these the original floors?” I ask.
“That would be a yes.”
“Nice.”
“Should I put in an offer for you?” he jokes.
“Not yet…” I grin and sink deeper into the rigid cushion. “I have to see the bathroom and kitchen first. Maybe you can take me on that tour.”
He rises out of his squat. “You’d move to Chicago and live in this place?”
“No. Yes. Probably not. But I still want to see all of it.”
“I’ll show it to you, but first I’ll make coffee so you don’t stumble down the stairs and crack your head open.” He chuckles and trots off into the kitchen.
I hear him banging around. He’s such a nice man. Not only that, but he’s good-looking and hardworking. Why would any woman divorce him?
“Belmont is nice too…” I whisper.
I think about how he used to massage me from head to toe every night while I was pregnant. He swore it relieved my swelling. When New York City started to cave in on me, he picked up our lives and relocated us to California without a quarrel. He tolerated my pushy mother while I was in the hospital, even while she drove me to the brink of insanity. He never seemed to notice all those unappealing consequences of pregnancy—even the gas. And he made love to me each time as if it were the first.
“Here you go,” Dexter says.
I take the cup of coffee from him. “Thanks.”
He sits across from me and gets just as comfortable as I am. “So two days ago you were with your husband, and now you’re not. I’ve been wondering why.”
I figure after he’s saved me from the lonely walk home, gotten me tipsy, and made coffee to sober me up, I owe him the truth. “He cheated on me with an ex-girlfriend. She emailed me pictures just so I could be tormented by visuals.”
“Holy fuck. Ouch.”
“You said that right.”
“I slept with an old girlfriend when my wife and I separated.”
I open one eye. “You did?”
“Yeah,” he says remorsefully.
I wonder if he could provide the answer to a question that has been vexing me. “Why did you go back to a previous lover?”
“She was available. Her name was Nadine. She heard I was getting a divorce, one thing led to another, and it happened.”
“Did you think you were cheating?”
He hesitates. “I knew I was cheating.”
“Did you care?”
He rubs his eyes as if he’s tormented by the memories. “Daisy, you can’t compare my circumstances to yours. My ex-wife and I were over. Our dif
ferences were irreconcilable. We didn’t take car rides together while we were separated.”
“I guess you can imagine what went on in that car.”
“Oh, I already have.”
He and I laugh. We change the subject and talk about Javar’s latest girlfriend. He was dating a burlesque dancer when I last spoke to him, but now he’s graduated to a ballerina.
“He goes through these spurts,” I say. “It’s like, ‘This month I’ll collect dancers and next month fashion models,’ and on and on… I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a creepy collection of stuffed women in his basement.” When Dexter laughs, I realize I like making him laugh.
“He wants you though,” he says. “Warning you in advance.”
“I can handle Javar.”
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Sure. What?”
“Why does he think he still has a chance with you?”
“Because he’s arrogant! The minute I sleep with Javar, he’ll be over it. I’ve considered doing it just so he’ll move on.” I sigh. “Maybe I will the next I see him.”
Dexter pipes up. “Oh, that’ll make his year!”
After another cup of coffee, I’m sober enough to check out the four bedrooms and bathrooms and the kitchen. The only bathtub is in Dexter’s bathroom, and it’s tiny. But at the end of the showing, Dexter makes me an offer I can’t refuse.
“Why don’t you move in with me while you’re in Chicago? There’s plenty of room, and I could use the company,” he says.
“Is tomorrow soon enough?” I reply without hesitation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A New Place
I move into the brownstone on Thursday. Dexter and I don’t mention our living arrangement to anyone at work. They’ll never believe we’re just friends, and I don’t want to create more tension between the other women and me. My bedroom is big enough. I have a view of the tiny courtyard and a stone cherub that spits water out of his mouth. I don’t have a bathtub, but the shower is large enough and has ceramic tiled walls. I like it.
Kristin already has prospects for our new host. I notice that every time Javar’s name is brought up, she rolls her eyes slightly, so I ask Dexter if she and Javar ever had a thing. He confesses that they were together for a year, but Javar cheated on her with all her attractive friends. They broke up before he could get his hands on Emma and Kate. Suddenly the behavior from the women on our team makes more sense. Dexter and I finalize the first script while on a conference call with Javar, who invites himself to town next week when Dexter informs him I’m staying at the brownstone.
Know Her, Love Her: Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE (LOVE in the USA 4) Page 9
