Kiki's Millionaire

by Patricia Green

  “Not in your fu- fancy Rolls-Royce, please.”

  He grinned at her effort to curb her cursing. It was a positive development; plus she seemed to actively dislike his money and that delighted Jim no end. “Do you want me to borrow a friend’s Toyota?”

  Kiki laughed, her lighter mood showing in the twinkle in her eyes. “I can’t imagine you in a Toyota. Even a nice one.”

  “I drove a used Volkswagen Rabbit when I was in college. I also ate take-out Chinese and drank generic beer.” Her cheeks were soft under his fingers as he stroked her face.

  “Well, you don’t have to rush out and buy another Rabbit. The Mustang you took me out in tonight is just fine.” She appeared to think about it. “Hey, just how many cars do you have?”

  “A few.”

  “How many is that?”

  It was a little embarrassing. He knew Kiki didn’t own a car at all, doing all her errands and commuting on her bicycle. “Six. But I’m thinking about selling a couple.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You have six cars?”

  Nodding, he tried to change the subject, though, in reality, he wondered why he needed a car for nearly every day of the week. But he did like cars; maybe it was a collection kind of thing, like Hummel figurines. “So, what time do you get off of work? Would five-thirty be too early?”

  “I get off at six. Is that okay?”

  He gave her another searing kiss, inhaled her perfume deeply again—it had to stay with him until the next day—and then moved away to gather up his coat. “I’ll pick you up at six. Keeting and Stratham, Limited, on Technology Drive, right?”

  She nodded and opened the front door for him. “Yeah. Good night, Jim.”

  It irked him that it had to be good night, when he really wanted it to be good morning after a more-than-good night. But the communion would be that much better if he was patient.

  Chapter 3

  Kiki was in Ted Keeting’s office getting chewed out when six o’clock rolled around. Jim had used his charm on the receptionist and was waiting in Kiki’s cubicle when she slunk back.

  “Hi, hon. You look wonder—What’s wrong?”

  She looked up at him and tried to smile. Trying wasn’t working though. “Oh, hi. Is it six already? Let me hibernate my computer and grab my coat.”

  He was frowning. “You didn’t answer my question, Kiki. What’s wrong?”

  Sighing, Kiki poked at her keyboard and turned off the monitor before turning to him. “Oh my boss just hates me. It’s been one of those days.”

  Jim stood and rubbed her shoulders for a minute, and she began to relax under his hands. His voice was intimate as he bent and moved her hair away from her ear, making room for a light kiss there. “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it. Will you tell me about it in the car, honey? We’ll be alone there.”

  “Okay.”

  On their way toward the door, Gary popped up from his cubicle. “Hey, Kiki.” He looked over Jim, and then his lips thinned as he directed a comment toward her. “You don’t know what you’re missing, toots. I might not be Mister Brawn there, but I have some firepower between my ears; intelligence will win out over muscles any day.”

  “Have a good night, Gary,” she said wearily. The last thing she wanted to do was be party to a pissing contest.

  Unfortunately, Gary had other ideas. “Who’s the smarmy bouncer?”

  “That’s really uncalled for, Gary.” She just wanted to get out. Nerves regarding her date with Jim and irritation with her boss and Gary were giving her a headache. One foot in front of the other, just a few more steps to the door.

  Jim steered her by her elbow toward the lobby. “Just ignore it, Kiki.”

  “Well, it’s obvious you wouldn’t choose a guy like that for his brains. I thought you had more on the ball than that, Kiki. Guess I was wrong. You’re just an airhead like all women.”

  The miserable bastard. This was one too many crappy moments in the day. If another thing went askew, she thought she’d sit on the floor and cry. She turned to confront Gary, about to let loose all her frustration for the day, but Jim squeezed her elbow gently and stopped their progress, rotating toward the offensive man.

  Gary drew himself to his full height, which was a few inches taller than Kiki, but significantly shorter than Jim. He was well-groomed, but there was no comparison between Jim and Gary. Jim was a People cover, while Gary was more like National Enquirer on an alien abduction day. “Here’s the deal, Gary,” Jim said calmly. “You shut up and I don’t hit you. You say another word and I do. Easy enough for you to understand?”

  Kiki could see the wheels turning in Gary’s head as he considered the options. Apparently, option number one suited him best. He dismissed them with a rude gesture and sat back down in his cube. Kiki spared a glance at Jim and saw the twinkle of a conquering hero in his eyes. Well, at least someone was pleased with himself.

  Her work problems were the topic of conversation once they’d started toward the Rosicrucian Museum where there was a patrons-only event going on that evening. Apparently, Ted Keeting had had complaints from Kiki’s coworkers about how long it took Kiki to get her work done. In her own defense, Kiki explained that she took her writing very seriously, so she wrote, revised, edited and proofread everything she produced several times. Her junior status also meant that everyone piled the projects into her in-basket, expecting every item to take priority over every other project. Kiki wanted to perform superior work, but clearly having late assignment after late assignment was more annoying to them than having the work riddled with errors.

  “You’ll just have to work faster,” Jim advised. “Try leaving out one of the steps you’ve been taking.”

  “I know. I just can’t quite do it. How can I turn in material that I haven’t fact-checked or edited thoroughly?”

  “I understand, and it’s admirable that you want things to be perfect. But don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. It’s a fine opportunity for self-discipline, Kiki.”

  She snorted. “Damn- I mean, darn corporate drones.”

  Apparently taking no offense despite his own CEO status, Jim smiled at her, then pulled the car up to the valet stand.

  * * *

  They were admitted immediately; the Rosicrucian’s fund-raising staff knew who Jim was and were more than a little eager to escort him in and take his and Kiki’s coats to the coat-check room. Jim thought they fawned a little too much, and it annoyed him. If people would just treat him like a person instead of a wallet, he’d be even more inclined to share his money.

  Once in the door, he began scanning the place for Cal. People were milling around, creating little cliques of patrons admiring the exhibits. The new display, that of some tomb goods from a recently excavated gravesite in Egypt, had a queue from its vacuum sealed glass case out to the lobby. Jim wanted to see it, but he was happy enough to wait until the line cleared a little. The museum staff wanted to put him and Kiki at the front of the line, but he demurred. He didn’t really want special treatment; it made him too prominent. Blending in was always his goal, but for the past ten years, rarely his achievement. He was often in crowds, often crowded, in fact, and while it seemed that a person would get used to it, Jim never did.

  They met Cal in the mummy room, and the brothers greeted each other enthusiastically. Jim offered Cal’s date, Ginny, a gentle handshake and got a warm smile in return. The woman was quite petite, with pixieish short, blonde hair and bright green eyes.

  As Jim watched, Cal shook Kiki’s hand with both of his own.

  “We almost met before,” he told her.

  “I kind of recognize you.”

  “I was in the coffee shop where you met Jim.”

  “Ah. Right! I remember. That was not my finest hour.”

  Cal laughed, ending with a big grin. “Even when it set you up to meet my brother?”

  Jim took that cue and piped in. “That was all my good luck.” He put his arm around Kiki’s slender shoulders, and she l
eaned her head against him for a moment. It was a marvelous feeling having her there, perfectly placed where he could hold her, feel her warmth, and smell the lavender sweetness of her beautiful chestnut hair. He only hoped he could have this feeling for a long time. He’d been lucky to find her, now if only he could keep her.

  They toured the place for a while and Jim didn’t see much that was particularly interesting, except for the popular new exhibit, but it was entertaining. Champagne flowed, though neither of the men was drinking alcohol. White-clad servers made the rounds with canapés. After a little while, Jim and Cal decided to leave the women behind looking at ancient Egyptian cosmetics and beauty tools, while the men got food at the buffet.

  * * *

  “Are you having a good time, Kiki?” Ginny asked, touching Kiki’s arm with a small, well-manicured hand. Kiki noted Ginny’s Jimmy Choo purse and Manolo shoes. Jealousy didn’t creep through her, but the accessories did give her information about the woman. She was sure, however, that Ginny was pleased to be telling everyone about her prosperity.

  Smiling as pleasantly as she could, Kiki nodded. “Yes. How about you?”

  Ginny leaned a little closer. “Well, truth to tell, I think this is a little boring.”

  Kiki laughed softly. “I love Egyptian stuff. And Cal seems to be a nice guy. Have you been dating him long?”

  “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Those yummy broad shoulders and height. He and Jim are a lot alike but Cal’s eyes are different: gray.” She put a hand on Kiki’s arm conspiratorially. “I kind of like the blue better, but don’t tell Cal. This is our fourth date. I think I might be able to catch this one.”

  Catch? Surprised at the other woman’s candor, Kiki didn’t quite know what to say.

  Ginny didn’t seem to mind continuing the conversation all by herself. Her champagne flute was empty, but an eagle-eyed server was there to refill it. “The real prize is Jim, don’t you think? But, of course, there’s the ghost of his wife to deal with. So sad.” Her mouth turned down at the corners, but her eyes twinkled with something less wholesome.

  “Wife?”

  “Oh sure! Didn’t you read that article about him in Us a couple of years ago, right after his wife died? He was devastated. They’d been trying to have kids, and when they couldn’t manage it, they went to a doctor and instead of getting help, they found out that she had some kind of deadly medical problem. Awful.” She squeezed Kiki’s hand then let it go. “How do you deal with it? You know he hasn’t had a real relationship since then. I read the gossip while I’m at the hair-dresser. The pictures are very telling. One supermodel or actress after another.”

  Kiki’s mind was spinning. He hadn’t mentioned a wife at all. And, as she considered their relationship, she realized that while they’d been getting closer, there was an agreed upon limit to their liaison: three dates. What would happen at the end of those three dates? At the end of tonight? Realizing that she didn’t want it to stop, that it was just barely beginning, Kiki felt a sudden grief over what would be lost if they quit seeing each other so soon.

  The reality of the disparity between what he represented and her plebian status was like a brick wall between them. Maybe he was toying with her because they were so different it was impossible for anyone—especially her—to conceive of any kind of long-term relationship. Maybe he was just playing with her for amusement and after this, he’d go on to the next woman and the next and the next, trying to forget his wife like a bee amidst a field of eager flowers. And all those flowers were roses, except for Kiki as the humble daisy in the bunch.

  Kiki knew she could never displace a woman who was so important to Jim. And, really, she didn’t want to. She wanted to be herself, not an analog for a former loved one.

  “I didn’t know, Ginny. Thanks for telling me.”

  “We girls need to stick together.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Linking her arm in Kiki’s, Ginny led her to the next exhibit. “Do you work?”

  That seemed like an odd question. “Yes. I’m in PR.”

  “How exciting! I’m trying to get into the perfume business. My father bought me a little perfumery in Aix-en-Provence and I’m playing with that.”

  “In France?”

  “Yes, that’s where Aix is, silly.”

  Kiki felt a surge of inadequacy. She could barely make her rent, and here this little pixie woman was “playing” at the perfume business. “I’ve never been there; I haven’t traveled abroad.”

  “Oh, you must go sometime. Maybe Jim will take you. Oh…I’m sorry. He’s such a short-term kind of guy, planning for the future is just futile. I wonder what kind of woman will finally get him to settle down.”

  The consensus seems to be anyone but me. “I can’t imagine.” Kiki withdrew her arm, and tightened up the scarf around her throat, suddenly chilled.

  “Where did you go to school, dear?” Ginny asked genially, seemingly unaware of Kiki’s discomfort.

  “U.C. Berkeley.” She was proud of her alma mater, and her Master’s degree had been hard-won.

  “Oh! A public school! How…how…provincial. Poor Kiki. How did you stand it? I went to Vassar.”

  Of course she did. The whole day, and now the evening, had been exhausting. Kiki felt a wave of lethargy encase her like mucilage. Fortunately, Jim and Cal returned with food and saved Kiki from having to chat politely with Ginny much more. Kiki’s status as the poor girl, the disposable plaything, was now patently obvious to her. She just wanted to go home and have the night and the whole Jim-experience end.

  “You know, Jim, I’m not feeling all that great,” she said quietly to him when they were alone for a few minutes.

  “You do look a little pale, Kitten. Do you want me to take you home?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, yes.”

  He patted her hand where it lay on his arm. “I hate to see the evening end, but if you’re not feeling well…”

  “Well, I think we both know where it was going anyway.” Absolutely nowhere, to her great disappointment. It was her own fault for having any kind of hopes.

  “It was that obvious?”

  She nodded, miserable. He saw it too. That certainly marked the end of whatever relationship they had. If you could call it a relationship.

  Turning to Cal and Ginny, Jim made their goodbyes and Kiki did likewise. Within half an hour they were at her apartment.

  * * *

  Jim was frantic trying to think of some way he could prolong their evening and open the door to some future dates, but not much came to mind. He knew Kiki was interested in him, but he also knew—by her feisty rejection of his money—that she didn’t think they were on equal footing. Their common likes and dislikes shouldn’t be overlooked, in his opinion. They were people first, and bank accounts much further down the list.

  He knew she was exhausted, that was easy to tell, but it was only nine o’clock, and he needed whatever time he could get in order to convince her to give him more of a chance. He wanted to be part of her life. She’d implied that things were going somewhere, but she hadn’t seemed happy about it. Those kinds of mixed signals made him wary, lest he make some awful faux pas.

  She didn’t turn him out at her apartment door, and he came in like he had the right. Maybe she was just too tired for a confrontation with him tonight. He felt guilty for making his stand when she was at a disadvantage, but he wouldn’t get another chance. It was their third date, and she seemed inclined to let it end after the night was through.

  Removing his overcoat, he sat in a chair and watched her move around the small apartment, putting her coat away, and sorting through the day’s mail. There was musical beep, and she vocalized a tiny oh! and got her cell phone out of her purse, pressing buttons on the older-model device.

  “Oh no…no, no, no,” she moaned; the tone in her voice was absolutely defeated. Immediately, Jim left the chair and went to her. She was staring at her phone like it was a funeral procession.

  “Kiki?
Honey? What’s wrong?” Whatever it was, he vowed silently to make it right.

  “They fired me. They fuckin’ fired me!”

  “They sent you a text message?” He couldn’t think of much that would be ruder.

  She nodded, still staring at her phone.

  “Let me see.” He took the phone from her.

  You’re fired. Gary filed a complaint alleging that you threatened him with physical violence. Get your stuff on Monday.

  “Damn!” It was Jim’s turn to cuss. This had been his fault. He should have considered that when he staked his claim on Kiki. Gary was a slime, and this just proved it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  Kiki took the phone back from him, closed it gently, and put it down near her purse. “Well, that just makes the whole day perfect,” she said. “Perfectly shitty, that is.”

  Jim wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “Listen,” he said, lips hovering over her forehead. “I’ll call Ted Keeting tomorrow. I’m sure I can fix this.”

  “No. You can’t fight my battles for me. I’ll find another job. I’ll manage.” Her hands were balled against his chest, not resisting, but her upset was evident in those white knuckles.

  He felt like a total heel. “Let me. Just let me help.”

  Kiki shook her head, then rested it against his chest. “It was a crappy job anyway.” Her voice broke as she spoke.

  Jim stroked her back, and when she started to cry he could feel the trembling of her shoulders and the hitching of her breath. “Ah, honey. This just isn’t right. How about if I help you find another job? I know several people—“

  “No.” Her response was muffled and tear-filled. “This was supposed to be our last date. You said so. We had a deal. I can’t ask you to help me. I won’t take your help.”

  Jim tilted her chin up and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “One more date and a little nudge of a friend. Just that much.” He needed another chance to make things right, to build something she could live with. His money didn’t need to be an issue, if he could just find the right words.