The Cocktail Collection

by Alice Clayton

  Except for a few pieces in the bedroom, should be all done by next weekend.

  Ahead of deadline I might add. . . .

  Very good. Will you also be there to finish things in the bedroom?

  Stop it, Jaime.

  I hate when you call me Jaime.

  I know, Jaime. See you Friday night.

  The day had exhausted me. I had nothing left. I had plans to go to yoga, really I did, but as the evening approached all I wanted to do was go home. I wanted Clive, and I could no longer pretend that I didn’t also want Simon. Maybe he would be home? As I walked up the stairs I could hear Simon’s TV through the door. I was already turning my key in my lock when I thought about my fortune cookie. I could knock on the door, right? I could just say hi, right? As I debated, I heard his phone ring, followed by his voice through the door.

  “Nadia? Hey, how are you?” he said, and that made up my mind for me. He had his harem, and I couldn’t possibly enter in to something like that. If I wanted Simon, I wanted all of Simon. I’d promised myself no more messing around. As I felt tears prick at my eyes for the thousandth time that day, I walked in to find Clive waiting for me, and I smiled through my tears. I picked him up, cuddling him to me as he told me all about his day in cat-speak. I interpreted for him, and it would seem that Clive’s day consisted of a light snack, a nap, about thirty minutes of grooming, another snack, another nap, and then he watched the neighborhood for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Leftover takeout with Ina and Jeffrey on the couch, a quick shower, and I packed it in early. I simply could not allow this day to go on any longer.

  With Clive curled between my legs, I went to sleep, again with no music from the other side of the wall.

  Friday night I stood in front of my mirror, trying on different shoes for my date/not a date/of course it’s a date with James. I’d almost called him twice to back out, but in the end, I pushed through it and got dressed. Sometimes a girl just needs to get dressed up, and tonight I was dressed to kill: thin, fitted black blouse, tight red pencil skirt, teetery tall heels.

  I’d been conflicted about this event, whatever it was, all week long. But I wanted to go. Was I using James a little? Perhaps. But I did have a good time with him, and maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for us to start back up again.

  “Caroline Reynolds, you heartbreaker,” I whispered to myself in the mirror. I actually cracked myself up. Clive was embarrassed for both of us and hid his nose behind his paw. I was still laughing when I heard the knock at the door. I clicked down the hall toward the door, Clive close behind.

  I took a deep breath, and opened it. “Hey, James.”

  “Caroline, you look great,” he murmured, stepping inside and catching me into a hug.

  As his arms went around me, I knew immediately. This was a date.

  He smelled spicy. I don’t know why girls always say boys smell spicy, but some do. And it’s a good thing, warm and spicy. But not like potpourri. . . .

  I hugged him back, enjoying the way my body still fit with his. We always were good at the hugging.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Yep, let me grab my bag.” I knelt to give Clive a quick kiss. He tossed his tail angrily in James’s direction and wouldn’t let me kiss him.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked Clive, who turned and showed me his rear end.

  “You know, that’s starting to become a very rude habit, Mr. Clive,” I warned him as I picked up my purse from the table. I stuck my tongue out at Clive, grabbed James, and locked the door behind us.

  “Okay, so, dinner?” I asked as we stood outside my door.

  “Yep, dinner,” he replied, standing very close to me. We stared at each other—for only seconds really, but it felt much longer. He stepped a little closer, and my breath caught. Of course, just then Simon decided to open his door.

  “Hey, Caroline! I was just—Oh, hi. James, right?” His smile faded slightly when he saw my dinner date. Date, date, date.

  “Sheldon, right?” James said, offering his hand.

  “Simon, actually.” He raised his trash-bag-filled hands and declined the shake. “After you.” He nodded to the stairs, and the three of us began to troop down together.

  “So, where are you two crazy kids off to tonight?” Simon asked as we walked ahead of him.

  I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck, and as I hit the landing I looked back. He had a fake smile plastered across his face, and his voice was colder than I’d ever heard it before.

  “Caroline and I are headed out for dinner,” James answered.

  I smiled back over my shoulder. “Yes, some lovely little Vietnamese restaurant,” I cooed, pretending to be thrilled.

  “You don’t like Vietnamese food,” he said, frowning.

  This made me smile. “I’m going to try the soup,” I answered.

  James locked eyes with Simon as he held the door for me. He let it swing right as Simon came through with his hands full of trash bags, but I caught it just in time.

  “Well, have a good night,” I said as James walked me toward his car with his hand on the small of my back.

  “ ’Night,” Simon answered, lips tight. I could tell he was irritated.

  Good.

  James bundled me into the car, and we were off.

  The dinner was fine. I ordered fried rice off the fusion side of the menu, and when it arrived, for a moment all I could think about was eating noodles on a houseboat in the middle of Ha Long Bay with Simon.

  But as I said, dinner was fine, the conversation fine, the man I was with, fine. He was a fine-looking man with a great future ahead, his own adventures to be had, mountains to conquer. And tonight, I was the mountain. I kind of wanted to let him climb.

  He walked me upstairs to my door, even though I could have stopped him from coming all the way up. As I dug for my keys, I could hear Simon’s phone ringing, and he answered.

  “Nadia? Hi. Yep, ready when you are.” He laughed.

  My heart clenched. Fine. I turned to say good-night to James, devastatingly handsome and right there. Right there in front of me. O had been gone a long time, and she and James had once been close. Could he? Would he? I was going to find out. I invited him in.

  As I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge, I watched him scan the room, taking stock of everything: the Bose sound system, the Eames chair by the desk. He even checked out my crystal as I handed him his glass. He thanked me, his eyes burning into mine as our fingers slipped past each other.

  Nature took over. Hands knew, skin recognized, lips teased and became reacquainted. It was new and old at the same time, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good. His shirt came off. My skirt dropped, I kicked off my heels, and our arms wrapped and tucked in. Eventually and inevitably, we headed to the bedroom.

  I bounced lightly on the bed, watching through hazy eyes as he knelt before me on the floor.

  “I missed you.”

  “I know.” I pulled him on top of me. Everything was fine, everything was as it should be, and as I mechanically wrapped my legs around his waist, his belt buckle digging cold into my thigh, he looked deeply into my eyes and smiled.

  “I’m so glad I needed a decorator.”

  And just like that, fine was not enough.

  “No, James.” I sighed, pushing at his shoulders.

  “What, baby?”

  I hated when he called me baby.

  “No, no, just no. Get up.” I sighed again as he continued to kiss my neck. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized what used to make me feel something now made me feel nothing at all.

  “You’re kidding, right?” He moaned in my ear, and I pushed him again.

  “I said get up, James,” I commanded, a little louder this time.

  He got the message. Doesn’t mean he was happy to hear it. He stood up as I smoothed my shirt, which was thankfully still mostly buttoned.

  “You gotta go,” I managed, tears beginning to track down my cheeks
.

  “Caroline, what the—”

  “Just go, okay? Just go!” I yelled. It wasn’t fair to him, but I had to be fair to myself. I couldn’t go backward, not now.

  I clasped my hands to my face and heard him sigh, then stomp off, slamming the door. I couldn’t blame him. He must’ve been in blue-ball hell. I was sad and mad and a little bit tipsy, and I hated my O. My eyes landed on one of my Come Fuck Me shoes on the floor, and I threw it as hard as I could into the living room.

  “Ooof!” I heard a deep voice utter, and it was not James Brown’s. It was the man I did want in my bed, and the one I was most mad at right now. Holding the shoe like some kind of late-night Prince Charming to my slutty O-less Cinderella, Simon appeared in my doorway, barefoot and in his pajama bottoms. The sight of his perfect speed-bump abs crossed me over from pissed off to M. A. D.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, angrily wiping the tears from my face. He was going to see me cry.

  “Um, I heard you and James. . . . Well, I heard you, and then I heard you yelling, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he stammered.

  “You’re not here to rescue me, are you?” I bit back, air-quoting the rescue.

  He backed away as I crawled off the bed, seeming scared of my impending explosion. Even I knew this was going to be ugly.

  “Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued? I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wall-banging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”

  I was pointing and waving my arms around like someone was going to take them away from me. He had every right to look scared.

  “I mean, what the hell is with you men? I’ve got one who wants me back, and one who doesn’t want anything to do with me! One who wants to be my boyfriend but can’t even remember that I’m an interior designer. Designer! Not a fucking decorator!”

  I was on a roll. At this point I was just ranting, plain and simple. I stalked in a circle around Simon, pacing and shouting while he tried to follow me, finally just standing still and watching me with huge eyes.

  “I mean, you shouldn’t force someone to eat Vietnamese food if they don’t like Vietnamese food, should you? I shouldn’t have to eat it, should I, Simon?”

  “No, Caroline, I don’t think you should—” he started.

  “No, of course I shouldn’t, so I got the fried rice! Fried rice, Simon! I’m not gonna eat Vietnamese food ever again—not for James, not for you, not for anyone! You got that?”

  “Well, Caroline, I think—”

  “And for your information,” I continued, “I did not need a rescue tonight! I took care of it myself. He’s gone. And I know you think James is some kind of psycho, but he isn’t,” I said, beginning to lose momentum. My lower lip quivered again, and I fought it but finally let go. “He isn’t a bad guy. He just . . . he just . . . he just isn’t the right guy for me.” I sighed, sinking down to the floor in front of my bed and holding my head in my hands.

  I cried for a moment, while Simon remained frozen above me. I finally looked up at him. “Hello? Girl crying down here!” I sputtered.

  He swallowed a smile and sat down in front of me. He pulled me across the floor and gathered me into his arms. And I totally let him. He settled me onto his lap and held me close as I cried into his chest. He was warm and gentle, and even though I knew better—oh, how I knew better—I tucked into the nook and let him comfort me. His hands ran up and down my back as I sobbed, his fingertips making the tiniest of circles on my shoulder blades as I breathed him in. It had been so long since I’d been held, just held, by a man that, between the tiny circles and the scent of his fabric softener, was making me lose my senses.

  Finally my sobs began to quiet as he held me close, cross-legged on my floor. “Why didn’t you play me music this week?” I sniffled.

  “My needle was broken. I have to get it fixed.”

  “Oh, I thought maybe . . . well, I missed it is all,” I said shyly.

  He smoothed back my hair and brought his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I missed you.” He smiled gently.

  “Me too,” I breathed, and his sapphires began to spin. Oh no. No voodoo. “How was Purina? Good? Bet she missed you too,” I whispered and watched his face change.

  “Why do you keep bringing up Nadia?”

  “I heard you on the phone with her earlier. Sounded like you were making plans.”

  “Yes, I met her for drinks.”

  “Please. You expect me to believe she didn’t come over?’ I asked, noticing I was still on his lap.

  “Ask your cat. Did he go crazy tonight?” Simon pointed at Clive, who had returned and was now watching us from the back of the couch.

  “No, he didn’t, actually.”

  “That’s because she didn’t come over. We met for drinks to say good-bye.” Simon looked at me carefully.

  My heart began to beat so loud there was no way he couldn’t hear it. Why did Heart have to be so in to this? “Good-bye?”

  “Yep, she’s going back to Moscow to finish her degree there.”

  Heart settled down a bit. “Oh, so you said good-bye because she was leaving, not for any other reason. Silly me.” I tried lifting myself off his lap as he held me closer. I struggled.

  “She’s leaving, yes, but that’s not why we said good-bye. I—”

  I continued to wiggle. “Wow, only Giggler left! And then there was one. I guess technically one does not make a harem, so will she be shouldering the load for the others or will you need to be interviewing for some more women? How does that work exactly?” I snapped.

  “Actually, I’m going to be having a conversation with Lizzie very soon as well. I think we’re going to be just friends from now on,” he said, watching me closely. “What used to work for me just doesn’t work anymore.”

  All stop. What? “It doesn’t work for you anymore?” I breathed, not daring to believe it.

  “Mm-hmm,” he answered, his nose dipping down to the skin just below my ear and breathing deep.

  Would he notice if I licked his shoulder? Just the tiniest taste?

  “Caroline?”

  “Yes, Simon?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t play music for you this week. I’m sorry that I . . . well, let’s just say I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “No, I don’t have any zucchini bread,” I whispered, and his laugh echoed through the room. I laughed along, in spite of myself. I’d missed laughing with Simon.

  “Come to Spain with me,” he whispered.

  “Wait, what?” I asked again, my voice wavering. What, what, what? “Are you serious?”

  “I’m very serious.”

  I had to remind myself to breathe. Already heady from the voodoo and fabric softener, I shook my head to clear it. He was going Spain on me?

  I was glad he seemed focused on the space behind my ear, because I doubted he’d be as interested if he could see how my eyes were now crossed. I needed a moment. I pulled myself away, finally standing up.

  “I’m gonna go wash my face. Don’t go anywhere,” I instructed.

  “Sweet Caroline, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his sexy smile returning.

  I made myself walk away. Every step I took, every thunk of my heels on the hardwood was like a chant in my head: Spain. Spain. Spain. Once in the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face, most of it going into my mouth because I couldn’t stop smiling. New harem head count: two down, one to go? There were times to be cautious, and then there were times when you just needed to go balls-out and take a risk. I needed some backbone. I thought about what Jillian had said earlier today, and I went with my impulse. I steeled myself, took out my figurative balls, and headed back out.

  “Okay, it’s late, Si
mon. Time for you to go.” I took him by the hand, pulled him off the floor, and led him toward the front door.

  “Um, really? You want me to go? Don’t you want to, I don’t know . . . talk a little more?” he asked. “I wanted to tell you how—”

  I continued to pull him. “Nope. No more talking tonight. I’m tired.” I opened my door and ushered him out to the landing. He started to say something else, and I held up two fingers. “I need to say two things, okay? Two things.”

  He nodded.

  “First, you hurt my feelings in Tahoe,” I began, and he tried to interrupt me. “Shut it, Simon. I don’t want a rehash. But just know you hurt me. Don’t do it again,” I finished. I couldn’t stop my smile when I saw his reaction.

  His eyes hit the floor, his entire body contrite. “Caroline, I’m really sorry about all that. You have to know that I just wanted to—”

  “Apology accepted.” I smiled again and began to close my door.

  His head popped up immediately. “Wait, wait. What was the second thing?” he called, leaning into my doorway. I stepped closer to him, bringing my body within inches of his. I could feel the heat of his skin across the tiny space between us, and I closed my eyes against the onslaught of emotions. I breathed deep and opened my eyes to look into the sexy sapphires gazing down at me.

  “I’m coming with you to Spain,” I said. And with a wink, I closed the door in his astonished face.

  chapter fifteen

  “Eggs sunny-side up, bacon, wheat toast with raspberry jelly.”

  “Oatmeal with raisins, currants, cinnamon, and brown sugar, side of sausage links.”

  “Belgian waffles, fruit cup, bacon and sausage,” Sophia said, completing our order and earning a raised eyebrow from both Mimi and me.

  “What? I’m hungry.”

  “Nice to see you getting a real breakfast for a change. Must have been working up an appetite with Mr. Neil last night, hmmm?” I teased, winking at Mimi over my orange juice.

  The three of us were together for breakfast on a Sunday, something we hadn’t done since Tahoe. They’d been busily settling into the life of new coupledom with their recently switched boyfriends, which left me out most of the time. When they were dating the wrong guys, they were always more than happy to have me along—the more the merrier they’d say. It helped when there was no real chemistry. But now? Mimi and Sophia were definitely with the right guys and enjoying every second of it.