by Mia Moore
“Thank God. Can we have dinner now?” Chris’s voice was low as he eased away from the wall and took a step closer. The grin on his face and eyes roaming over her body, from the new gleaming boots to the dark hair framing her face, belied the tone of his voice.
She’d never had a man, even a gay one look at her with such admiration. She stood and her eyes dropped watching the floor as she stepped away from the counter. She murmured a ‘thanks’ and picked her new Gucci bag from the floor. Her neck flamed, spreading hotly to her cheeks when she joined Chris.
At the gentle peck on her cheek, her face turned up and she gazed into his eyes.
“You’re beautiful Brie. I knew you were before, but now you’re really stunning.” He took her hand and led the way across the store.
She clutched him and took a deep breath fighting the lump in her throat. There was no way she was going to cry and ruin all the work with the make-up. “Thanks Chris. For everything.” She stopped and tugged his hand. “But what about dinner? I’m supposed to be cooking for you.”
He shook his head and smiled. “Not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to show you off.”
Her stomach did a flip flop, her muscles quivering at his words. Tonight, she’d let him. He’d been so kind and patient; it was the least she could do. Not to mention the fact that she knew in the new clothes and make-up she looked pretty good. “Okay, but I insist on paying. What do you feel like having?”
“How about indulging me some more with a walk down memory lane?” He looked away for a moment and then grinned at the puzzled look on her face. “Le Train Bleu. My grandmother used to take me on the train when we visited Chicago, where my aunt lives. It was always a great time riding in the club car being served lunch on white linen tables. She’d always wear gloves, so prim and lady-like. The restaurant’s on the sixth floor here. The food’s not bad but the decor is what makes it.”
“Sure. I’m starving.” She tugged at his hand and stopped once more. “But what about the clothes you bought me and your coat? Shouldn’t we get them first?”
“Relax. It’s Bloomie's. Sondra has all our things stored for us. All we have to do is ring for her when we leave. The cab driver may charge us extra since we bought out half the store, but we’ll manage.” He grinned and pulled her hand, leading her to the escalator.
When they stepped off, they wandered for a few minutes until gold wooden beams outlined a black surface on which was written ‘Le Train bleu’. Two brass tubular rails framed a set of stairs leading to the entrance.
“This is it. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a window seat overlooking the city.” He held his hand out, inviting her to enter first.
Her eyes glittered while her boots sunk into the thick carpeting of the stairs. This was everything unique about New York. Imagine a train car set in the world’s largest department store! She pushed the door open and stepped into another world. Two long rows of linen draped tables lined the walls. A waiter in a white coat and dark pants, a toothy grin under a large hooked nose and dark narrow eyes, approached her.
“Welcome to the train. Table for two?” He actually clicked his heels and bowed at the waist.
“Yes, please. The left side if possible.” Chris stepped beside her.
“Certainly. This way please.”
He led them to a table about half way down the aisle and held the chair, seating her. She smiled a ‘thanks’ and sunk down into the thick green upholstered seat. There was a yellow lamp next to the window but it was the view that caught her eye. The city went on for miles of tall buildings, interlaced with dark streets and hordes of small dots, people walking, going about their day.
Chris eased into his chair and pulled it closer to the table. “Quaint isn’t it?”
“May I get you something to drink before you order?” The waiter handed menus to Chris and then to her.
Chris cleared his throat before he spoke. “We’ll each have a glass of Chardonnay to start, thanks.”
The waiter gave a curt bow and hurried away. Chris looked at her and there was a sheepish grin on his face. “I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you.” He lifted the napkin from the table and spread it over his lap.
Brie’s heart had been skipping along in her chest and her palms were sweaty when she replicated his action with the napkin. Her eyes closed for a moment and her stomach seemed to sink to the chair’s fabric. “Chris, I’ve never been in any place this fancy. I don’t want to do or say anything to embarrass you.”
“Nonsense. I’m with the best looking dame in the joint. Honey, you could fart and it’d come out smelling like roses.”
Her hand went to her mouth stifling the giggle that burbled in her throat. For all his sophistication and class, Chris had a funny, foul mouth. She grinned at him and sat back when the waiter appeared with a tray. He poured iced water into the tall glasses and set the wine before her and then Chris.
“Shall I give you a few moments Sir?” He smiled at Chris and once more clicked his heels.
“Not necessary.” Chris’s eyes met hers and he leaned over the table. “You like red meat, don’t you?”
She nodded and glanced at the waiter.
“We’ll have the Filet Rossini, medium rare.” He handed the menu back to the waiter and took a sip of the wine.
Her hand trembled just a little when she lifted the glass. The wine was tart and fruity, making her mouth water. The only time she’d ever drank wine was at weddings or parties. The liquid warmed her throat and melted into her muscles. She sank lower into the chair and took another long sip. Power shopping was fun but exhausting.
She looked over at Chris, noticing the pensive, far-away look in his eyes. “You loved your Grandmother didn’t you? This place is really neat.”
His fingers toyed with the stem of the glass and he looked down for a few moments. “Yeah. She was a grand old dame, spoiled me rotten, of course. My parents died when I was still young—a car crash. She raised me. I probably have her to blame for turning me into a flaming faggot.” He let out a soft chuckle and lifted the glass to take a large gulp.
“There was a guy in my class who was gay. You’re only the second gay person I’ve ever met.” She bit her lower lip and immediately regretted it, ruining the lipstick. “I’m not sure I like the word, faggot.” Her eyes met his.
“Why is that? It seems like a better term than fudge packer.” Both hands held the glass in front of his chin.
She winced and her lip drew up at the side. Had she said something to offend him? This was totally new territory. “Yes, definitely better, but I’d rather say gay. It’s seems more accepting somehow. I mean, people are people, right?”
“It’s funny you should say that.” He set the glass down and leaned over the table. “Yesterday and this morning, you were afraid to say boo, afraid that whatever you had to say didn’t merit attention. Yet here you are now, voicing an opinion that shows intelligence and sensitivity. Bravo Brie.”
She grinned and took a sip to cover the flush in her cheeks at his compliment. Damn, that wine was good. What the hell? She raised her hand to catch the waiter’s attention.
When he appeared, she spoke in a soft voice but there was an edge of confidence there. “We’ll have two more, please.”
Chris grinned and reached across to pat her hand. “Well done. I’m glad you offered to pay because this glass tastes like a few more.”
“It’s on me, Uncle Chris.” She shook her head and chortled. “Why did you say that to Sondra?”
“I don’t know. It’s fun sometimes to tell a fib, pretend you’re someone you’re not, just to see if people will buy it.” He took a sip finishing his glass and set it on the table.
She looked across the table, her eyes taking in the expensive shirt and gold ring on his hand. He certainly looked wealthy and the way he spoke showed he was educated. But was there something else? Had she been taken in by a role he was playing?
Chapter 10
The alarm on Brie’s cell phone
beeped at precisely six a.m. Her eyes creaked open and she stretched before tossing the down filled comforter back. Yesterday had been a dream come true but it was time she earned her keep, especially after ‘Uncle’ Chris had been so generous. She’d surprise him, having breakfast and tea ready when he got up.
She turned the bedside lamp on and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The new robe hung on a hook on the back of the door. A warm feeling flooded through her as she slipped her arms into it and tied the sash. It was so soft and pretty, hugging her waist and draping wide from her hips to the rosy pink of her toenails. She couldn’t resist a quick peek in the full length mirror. A grin spread over her face at the sight. Who knew that with the right hairstyle and clothes she could ever look this good?
She scampered from the room, closing the door gently behind her. In the kitchen, she stopped short spying the two laptops sitting side by side on the kitchen table. Chris had been using the black one the day before but the smaller, maroon one looked brand new. The smile dropped from her face remembering that part of their deal was an on-line course.
She turned away and stepped to the counter to plug the kettle in. When she opened the refrigerator to get the eggs out, her gaze flitted to the laptop. The course she’d agreed to was definitely the down side to being there. It was one thing to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse but when that purse was opened, he’d see how empty it was.
She cracked the eggs against the side of the bowl and reached into the drawer for the whisk. What was the point in doing the course? It wasn’t like it was going to help her find a job when the ninety days were up. It would just be frustrating and boring. Maybe he’d let her drop it when he saw how terrible she was with school.
When the kettle was ready, she searched for a tea pot. Considering how much tea he drank, it made more sense to make a pot, rather than mug after mug. She spotted a dark blue one on a high shelf and straining up on the tips of her toes she managed to hook her fingers around the handle. She pulled it, but when it dragged across the shelf, two white cards came with it. They fluttered to the counter, just missing the bowl of eggs.
Photos. She set the pot on the counter and picked them up. After a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyebrows drew together peering at the faded images of two children. A plump boy wearing a red and white striped T shirt and dark shorts, held the hand of a toddler in a frilly dress. The flaxen haired kid looked to be around nine or ten, grinning while looking up at whoever took the picture. The baby’s hair was a paler shade but she looked down at the ground, like she was learning to walk.
The second one showed a young couple, the man’s arm casually draped over the woman’s shoulders, both wearing small smiles. She had wide heavily made up eyes that peered out under a mane of hair casually flipped up and back. From her blouse, the style of pants, really wide bell bottoms and the way his dark hair curled over the over sized collar of his shirt, it must have been taken many years ago. Maybe the sixties or seventies?
“Good morning.”
She startled, turning at the sound of Chris’s voice. “Hi.” Her face became warm as she held the pictures up. “These fell down from the shelf. I didn’t mean to snoop or—”
“That’s okay. Sometimes when I get maudlin, I take them down and look at them.” He sat down and folded his hands together, resting them on the roundness of his tummy. There was a small sad smile on his lips as he opened his laptop.
“Who are they? Is the little boy, you?” She set the photos on the counter close to the wall, out of danger of the eggs or tea kettle.
He looked over at her and nodded. “Me and Jody, my baby sister.” For a few moments he was silent, his eyes staring off into nothing.
Brie gulped and poured the hot water from the kettle into the blue pot. The couple had to be his parents. They’d been killed in a car crash but what about the sister? From the sad look on Chris’s face it wasn’t a subject she wanted to ask him about.
“Hey! You haven’t said anything about the laptop I got you! Isn’t it a gorgeous color?”
She turned and a smile curled the corners of her lips. He looked so excited, just like a kid on Christmas morning, except in his case, the excitement was in the giving, not getting. “Yes, it’s pretty. Thanks. When did you manage to pick that up without me knowing?”
He rose from his seat and pried the lid open, pressing a button to turn it on. “When you were getting your hair done, silly.” He turned and nodded his head, gesturing for her to come over and give it a try.
Her stomach rolled like a lump of bread dough as she stepped over to the table. The tune of a popular operating system sounded as the screen went from black to a bright blue. “That’s great Chris but I should make breakfast. We can do the set-up and all that after breakfast.” She stepped back to the counter and whisked the eggs. “Actually, I should go out and do some grocery shopping. There are things we’ll need for the dinners I’m going to make. Once I’ve got that done, I’ll have time to set up a profile on the laptop.”
He appeared next to her at the counter. Pouring tea into a mug, he spoke, “I never go to a grocery store. Everything is done on-line, placing the order, paying. It’s a crazy waste of time to go to a store. They’ll deliver tomorrow.”
Her stomach did another roll as he talked. “Oh.” A very small, low, ‘oh’.
He took his mug of tea to the table and sat down. The clicking of his fingers on the keyboard was followed by a slurping sound of the hot liquid.
Brie took the onion and some cheddar from the fridge. So that was that. No delaying the inevitable. She’d have to set up the course after breakfast.
“One other thing, Brie…I’d like you to start reading the New York Times. We can talk about current events.”
She whirled around and her mouth was a tight line facing him. “What? You can’t be serious. Now I really feel like I’m back in school.”
His eyes widened, watching her. “You want to live in the city… You need to read the paper. Is that so bad?”
Her gaze fell to the floor and she bit her lower lip. After all he’d done for her yesterday… A long sigh passed through her lips and her shoulders shrugged. “I guess not.”
She turned and grabbed the cheese grater and knife from the drawer next to her. What an ungrateful wretch she was. The silence as she prepared the eggs became uncomfortable. She glanced at him as she poured the egg mixture into the pan. He seemed engrossed in the laptop.
She took a deep breath and smiled, forcing lightness into her voice. “What kind of books do you write?”
“Sizzling, bodice ripping romance, lots of sex.” He let out a short laugh. “Were you expecting poetry?”
She shook her head and stirred the eggs. “There was a poem I read in high school that stuck with me. It was by some English guy. He wrote about this guy, a timid, shy man.” She cleared her throat and glanced at Chris before continuing. “I have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” Her eyebrows bobbed and a shy smile formed on her lips when she looked over at him. “That’s all I remember.”
“Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot. The lament of a man who never dared to truly live.” He watched her dish the eggs onto the plate and set it before him. She reached for cutlery and then topped up his tea. When she took a seat in front of the new laptop, he looked into her eyes.
Feeling the weight of his gaze, her fingers toyed with the hangnail on her thumb. She glanced at the laptop and then down at her hands.
“Why do you think that poem touched you? It must have, for you to quote from it.” He picked up the fork and dug into the omelet.
“I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip and her eyes focused on the piece of skin hanging near her thumbnail, specifically the bubble of blood that had appeared. “Maybe, he was like me, I guess. The whole living life in tiny drops, the size of coffee spoons.”
He banged his hand on the table and her eyes darted up. A laugh bellowed out of
his chest and his eyes were almost closed, folds of flesh like crows’ feet extending from the corners. “Brie! Look at us for crying out loud. We’re discussing poetry and it’s not even seven o’clock.”
Her chest felt light and she giggled softly. Was that what they were doing? She’d only mentioned a line of poetry that she’d liked. Did this constitute a discussion? Her head tilted to the side and her mouth opened.
Before she could speak, he interrupted. “Maybe you remember that line because you were afraid of ending up like him—on your death bed full of regrets…regretting things you’d never done.”
Her eyebrows drew together and her head bobbed up and down. Yes. “There was another line about how he didn’t dare to eat a peach, probably afraid of looking silly when the juice ran down his chin.”
Chris reached over and tapped the top of the new laptop. “Do you see a parallel here?”
She became very still, looking into his eyes. Her hands rose and she turned to the now dark, screen. She touched the mouse pad and it lit up, revealing a rectangular bar and blinking cursor. For the next five minutes, she typed, prompted by the set up application. When she was done, she looked up to find him smiling softly at her.
“What’s your password for the internet? I’m going to look for that course you talked about.”
“JodyJones. One word but capitalize the J’s.” His face fell and he looked down at the table.
“Your sister?” Her fingers clicked on the keyboard. “Is she—”
“Dead. Yes. She was with my parents that day.” He closed his eyes and puffed out a soft sigh. “I was sick and my Grandmother was looking after me. They were going to the hospital.” He was silent for a few moments. “Maybe if I hadn’t been sick or if they’d left just five minutes—”
Her eyes widened as he spoke. “Don’t.” She reached across and patted his arm. “It’s not your fault. How could it have been? It was a car accident.”
He looked up and his eyes were sad looking into hers. “You asked me why I’m helping you. You remind me of her, my sister. The same brilliant blue eyes, but there’s something else as well. I’m not sure what but it’s there.”
