But that’s not what I want. They’re not what I want.
She rolled over to her side, knocking one of the six plush pillows on her bed onto the floor as she opened the bedside nightstand and grabbed a distraction from the rise in her nature. As she rummaged, her hand hit her sex toy and it vibrated to life.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
She picked it up, her hand shaking from the movement. She paused, looking at it as she pressed her thighs together. With a sigh, she turned it off and dropped it back in the drawer to remove the book she had stashed there weeks ago. Setting it on the bed, she pulled her body up to a sitting position and grabbed her reading glasses before opening the book.
On the very first page of chapter one her brows furrowed in frustration. “The . . . hearth and the . . .”
She didn’t know the word. “Sa—sa—sa,” she said, struggling. “Shit.”
Sound it out.
Advice from Loren.
Desdemona pressed her finger beneath the first letter of the word. “Sa-la-man-der,” she said. “Sal-a-mand-er. Salamander.”
Am I right?
She picked up her iPhone from the nightstand and searched for “how to pronounce salamander.” A YouTube video came up first in the search.
“Salamander,” the robotic voice said.
Desdemona smiled. “I was right.”
“Every word in a story is important. Every single word. Nothing should be overlooked or skipped or misunderstood to make sure you comprehend—or understand—the story.”
More Loren in her head.
More and more her young tutor and his teaching were there with her throughout the day, and she was realizing more and more that a lot of what she was learning was already there in her life.
Even how you pour your wine at a certain angle to control the pour is geometry.
She chuckled. She had ten years on him easily, and he had taught her so much already. And not just about math and reading. Even about looking at a life differently.
Snuggling down in the bed, she pushed through with her reading and kept her phone close in case she had to look up the sound or meaning of a word. The more she read, the more she became lost in the story, admitting that she liked the way the writer described things and the story that unfolded.
Seeing the movie first helped her, but she enjoyed the details lost in the translation from book to film.
Slowly she pushed through, having to reread sentences or look up words for clarity until she came to the end of the first of three sections of the book. She folded the corner to keep her place in the novel and checked the time on her phone. It was well after midnight. She had been reading for hours.
Desdemona felt emotional and pressed her hands to her bare lips. Had it been easy? Had she stumbled? Did she get lost in the words she didn’t know or understand? No, yes, and yes. But she did it.
“I did it,” she whispered, lost somewhere in between happiness and desire to learn even more.
“Maybe I really can do this,” she told herself, starting to believe in herself.
Funny thing, she was playing catch-up to Loren.
I promise one day you will pass the test and go on to college and do whatever you dream about and wonder why you ever had any fear about it all.
Who could she tell about her victory when she told no one of her defeat?
Desdemona looked at her phone. It was her prepaid—her business phone. Flinging back the covers, she rose from the bed and retrieved her personal iPhone from the Balenciaga bag she had worn earlier that day to run errands. She rarely used it and often forgot about it. Sitting on the padded leather bench at the foot of her bed, she folded her feet beneath her bottom and scrolled through her contacts. There weren’t many. The majority of the people she interacted with were not friends and definitely not family. Of that she had none.
She paused, and her finger hovered over Loren’s listing in her phone. “It’s so late,” she said.
Desdemona set the phone down on the bench.
“But I feel like he would be proud.”
She picked it back up.
“But I don’t want his girl mad at him.”
Back down again.
“Hell, I’m hunting up congratulations and nothing else.”
She picked the phone up again and settled on sending a text.
DESI: I just finished reading the first part of—
She paused to crawl onto the bed and grab the book to double-check her spelling of the title.
DESI:—Fahrenheit 451.
She finished the text with a few celebration-type emojis before sending it and dropped the phone back inside her bag, which was hanging on the door handle. She turned off the lights and climbed back beneath the covers, snuggling her head among the pillows. She felt giddy like a kid and couldn’t help smiling, even as she closed her eyes and tried to bring on sleep.
When that failed, she thought of her little vibrating buddy in the drawer. It would send her right to sleep right after she was done with it.
Why not?
Turning over in the bed, she opened the drawer again and reached for the vibrator.
Her minuet text tone filled the air.
Desdemona dropped the vibrator and sat up in bed as she eyed the illumination inside her purse. Cloaked by the darkness, she flung back the covers and got up from the bed again to move toward the light until her phone was in her hand.
Loren.
She pressed one foot atop the other as she leaned against the door and opened the text.
THE_TUTOR: SO PROUD OF YOU!!! THAT’S A CLASSIC.
DESI: Thank you! I’m proud of myself. Why are u up?
THE_TUTOR: GRADING TEST PAPERS.
DESI: Ur girl there?
THE_TUTOR: NAH.
Desi sent him a sad face emoji.
THE_TUTOR: WE’RE GOOD. SHE’S OUT OF TOWN.
DESI: Good. Don’t mess it up.
He sent the shrugging emoji.
She sent the praying hands.
THE_TUTOR: IS THE BOOK GOOD?
DESI: Yes. Better than the movie.
THE_TUTOR: . . .
She awaited his next text, tapping her thumbnail against the screen.
THE_TUTOR: . . .
Maybe he went back to sleep.
THE_TUTOR: I JUST ORDERED A COPY. WE CAN TALK ABOUT THE BOOK AS WE READ IT. NOT A PART OF TUTORING. JUST FOR FUN. COOL?
Desi smiled and nodded as she texted him back:
Cool.
There were no more texts, and she dropped the phone back in the bag and climbed in her bed once again that night. As she snuggled beneath the covers and finally felt herself drifting to sleep, she was happy in knowing that for the first time in a long time she had a friend.
Chapter Six
Friday, October 19, 2018
Another year older. Time to do this next one differently from the last one . . .
“What’s with the crown?” Loren asked as soon as she opened the front door.
Desdemona tapped her pencil against the metallic leaf and organza headpiece adorned with rhinestones and pearls. “It’s not a crown,” she said, stepping back to admit him into her condo.
Loren turned his mouth downward and nodded as he removed his ever-present book bag. “Is there a reason for whatever it is?”
She smiled and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s my birthday, Lo,” she said hesitantly, using the nickname she had given him over the weeks.
“Happy birthday, Ms. Smith,” he said, his face filled with pleasure.
“Thank you.”
“Happy birthday to you. Happy biiiiiirthday,” he sang, off-key, boisterous, and not caring one bit about it.
Desdemona smiled and covered her mouth with her hands as her eyes filled with the same mirth she felt. She applauded when he finished with one last long note and bowed.
“Wait, you’re spending your birthday being tutored?” Loren asked, his face bewildered.
“I don’t normally cele
brate it,” she admitted.
And no one knows it, she added to herself.
“Time to do this one different from the last,” he said, reaching to clasp her hands. “Birthdays should be celebrated.”
Desdemona felt uneasy. “It’s no big deal,” she said, trying to pull her hands from his grasp.
He held on tighter, his eyes locked on hers. “No tutoring tonight. No studying. Just celebrate your life. Being here. Being alive. Being healthy. Damn sure wealthy,” he said, looking around at the condominium. “And for getting wise.”
She eyed him. This young man was filled with such warmth and kindness that he had the power to change a mood with his dimpled smile. “Are you sure?” she asked, her hesitance clear.
“Life is for the living. I’m sure.”
Desdemona took a breath, thinking back to the last time she had celebrated her birthday. “When I was a little girl, before my father passed away, he took me to an amusement park. Just the two of us,” she said. “One of the best days of my life. Definitely the best birthday to date.”
Loren’s eyes were soft as he leveled them on her. “Now go have another one,” he said as he reached for the front door. “It’s one thing for other people to overlook you, but when you don’t claim happiness for yourself that’s worse.”
He left with a wave.
Desdemona caught the door before it closed and stepped out into the hallway. “You’re pretty damn wise for a twenty-something,” she said.
Loren paused and turned. “I’ve been told I have an old soul,” he said, before turning to continue down the length of the wide hall to the elevator at the end of the floor.
Desdemona admitted that she hated to see him go.
His eternal good mood was infectious.
Back inside her condo she put away her study materials and walked over to the window to look out at her view just as the sun was beginning to set. “Thirty-five years old,” she said. “I deserve to be celebrated.”
For so long her life had been tied to everything but her happiness. She stroked her diamond butterfly bracelet. “Transformation and change,” she said as she looked down at the butterflies in midflight.
As she looked out at the water in the distance, her instincts made her run through every single thing that could wrong if she took her eye off the ball for just one second.
What if . . .
What if . . .
What if . . .
Her eyes focused on her reflection in the window, and she reached up to stroke her ornate tiara. “Life is for the living,” she said, before turning and picking up her iPhone from the coffee table.
She called Denzin.
“Boss. How can I help you?” he asked when he answered.
She hesitated. Trust was not easy to give. Relying on someone else could become a liability.
“Denzin, I need you to be available for me tonight and tomorrow,” she said, rushing the words and speeding past the fear. “Nothing major. Just if I call you to go somewhere. To check on someone. I need you to be ready at the drop of a hat. Possibly jump on a plane to get somewhere. Can you do that for me?”
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, smiling at his show of concern. “I need to handle something. Can you do this for me?”
“No questions asked?”
“None at all.”
“Done.”
“Thank you,” she said, ending the call as she walked over to her laptop, which was sitting on the corner of the kitchen counter.
Loren was right, and now that she agreed with him that she should celebrate, she wanted to extend the day. There was only one way to do that. “Let’s use these time zones,” she said, thinking of the west coast.
Beach vibes and shopping in Cali? Or gambling and partying in Vegas?
Let’s leave it up to fate.
Desdemona’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she pulled up available first-class flights out to Vegas and Cali.
“Vegas it is,” she said, eyeing the info for a first-class flight to the state leaving from LaGuardia in an hour.
She booked it and a suite at the Bellagio on the strip.
Knock-knock.
Desdemona looked over her shoulder at the front door before turning and walking toward it to open it. Her eyes filled with surprise to find Loren standing there with an open black to-go box holding a cupcake with a lit candle stuck in it. “I thought you were gone,” she said, the flame from the candle flickering in the depths of her eyes.
“Every birthday girl should make a wish,” he said, his eyes serious as they searched hers.
Desdemona closed her eyes and leaned forward a bit to make her wish before releasing a smooth stream of air to get rid of the flame. She felt transported to that birthday she had shared with her father, hating that the wish she had made that day never came to fruition.
God, please let my daddy live forever.
“Happy birthday again,” Loren said, his voice deep and warm.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said, her whisper so soft but the movement of her lips clear as the acrid smoke from the candle rose in a swirling stream in the air between them.
Their eyes locked. For a brief—very brief—moment they held.
Loren cleared his throat. “I better get going. Gonna surprise my girl,” he said.
It felt like he was placing her presence in the midst of whatever that very brief moment was as if to remind himself of her.
“Be safe,” Desdemona said, accepting the cupcake as she stepped back from him. “Good night, Lo.”
“Night,” he said just before she closed the door.
Desdemona held the to-go box behind her back as she leaned forward to look out the peephole. Surprise caused her heart to double pump. Loren still stood there, looking downward, seeming to be lost in thought. Just when she reached for the doorknob, he walked away with one last quick look back at her door before he disappeared from her line of view.
Checking her diamond watch, she strode across the space to slide the container in the glass-fronted fridge. She needed to get to the airport and decided on a whim not to bother packing. She called for a Lux Black before going to her safe to retrieve several bundles of cash to drop in her Louis Vuitton tote.
The October weather in NYC was chilly at night but not in Las Vegas, so she chose a lightweight blazer to pull over the long-sleeved black sweater she wore with a distressed short denim skirt and thigh-high leather boots.
It wasn’t until she was in the back of her Lyft that she allowed herself to think of just why Loren had paused at her door. She shook her head at the thought of a crush, determined to count it as nothing but a quiet moment she had happened to see. Loren adored his girlfriend and had never been anything but polite and friendly to her.
Desdemona refused to let her ego ruin their friendship or get in the way of him continuing as her tutor.
* * *
Vegas was beautiful and warm and everything she needed. She went straight from the airport to shop at Crystal’s before heading to her suite. As soon as she was inside the luxurious suite, she tossed her numerous glossy shopping bags and new designer carry-on luggage onto the king-size bed and took a shower in the spa-like bathroom.
With her damp body wrapped in one of the plush hotel robes, she raked her fingers through her hair as she walked out into the suite. The décor was sleek, modern, and colorful. With the curtains already open, the sight of the strip was her background. It would be made all the more majestic once night fell. She unpacked the clothing in her bags, hanging them in the closet. The lingerie, those things that would be pressed intimately against her body, she left wrapped in tissue paper in the shopping bag.
She’d removed the bottle of Gran Patrón Platinum tequila she’d purchased from her tote and poured herself a shot, sipping from the glass as she moved about the spacious suite. Her steps paused at the adjoining door, noticing it for the first time.
&nbs
p; Her robe had fallen open, but she clutched it closed as she turned the knob and jerked on it to ensure the door was locked. She gasped when it flew opened and hit the wall. She gasped again at the man standing in the next suite with nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
His face changed from surprise to pleasure at the sight of her, his eyes taking her all in from head to toe and showing his approval.
Desdemona gave him a quick appraisal as well and found the man, with his Idris Elba–like looks, to be attractive. Tall, strong, with broad shoulders and a good build. Dark skin. Bright eyes. Square jaw. Grown-man sexy. Definitely in his early forties.
With a mischievous smile and a flirty wave, she closed the door and locked it. She listened to see if he did the same from his side. He did not.
Was he alone in the suite? Was there a wife, girlfriend, side piece, or lover?
She glanced back at the door, curious about whether he had dropped the towel or not. With a little smile, and ready to get her birthday night in Vegas started, Desdemona lotioned her body with toiletries she had purchased before doing her makeup with a dramatic smoky eye and a glossy lip. Her hair she wore long and straight. She had no time for calling in a glam squad.
She loved the look and feel of her strapless cocktail dress with an internal bustier that gave her figure even more of an hourglass shape. The short length showed off her legs. The jacquard print covered with floral applique and crystals made her feel beautiful.
She locked her cash in the safe, changed the password, and grabbed the do not disturb tag before heading toward the door. She stepped into the hall, pausing when she spotted the man from the next-door suite leaning against the wall by his own door. She had to admit he looked just as good in all black—blazer, shirt, and slacks.
Madam, May I Page 9
