by Dianne Emley
He drove to Iris’s car first.
“Look at that car!” Barbie exclaimed. “That’s Iris’s wild side showin’.”
Iris unlocked the Triumph and opened the door. The whine of the squeaky hinge rang through the empty concrete structure.
“Art, thanks for driving all over the place.” Iris shook her head. “What a night.”
“A major rager,” Art said. “Killer.”
“Killer night,” Barbie agreed, smiling.
“See you Monday, Art. I’ll call you next week, Barbie, and we’ll talk about my plans for your portfolio.”
“It’s a date,” Barbie said.
Art waited until Iris had backed the Triumph out before driving Barbie to her red Mercedes convertible. He left the Mustang’s engine running and turned to face her. “I just want you to know one thing. I am serious about this club.”
Barbie patted his leg. “I know you are, sugar.”
“I want you to meet my uncle.”
Barbie turned the key in the ignition and cut the Mustang’s engine. “Let’s talk about it later, darlin’. It’s been a long night.”
She leaned over and kissed him, long and sloppily. He rubbed her breasts through the sheer blouse. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Art didn’t stop her this time. She started to slide toward his crotch until the steering wheel stopped her.
Art reached down beside his seat, lifted a lever, and pushed the seat back. Barbie continued her downward slide. Art clutched the backs of both seats. His moans reverberated in the empty garage. When it was over, Barbie carefully tucked his shirt back in and zipped up his pants. She patted him.
“That’s quite a thing you got there,” she said. “Take care of that.”
She opened the passenger door, got out of the Mustang and into her car, and drove off.
Art sat in the Mustang in the quiet garage, his hands still clutching the backs of the bucket seats.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Barbie pulled open the heavy glass door and entered the subdued mauve-toned lobby of the McKinney Alitzer suite. Her red jersey dress clung unapologetically to her ample curves. She wore red high-heeled sandals and white stockings with tiny red hearts strewn across them. Her hair was teased high on top of her head, the front swept away from her face in a winged effect, displaying earrings that had different sized red enameled hearts dangling from many lengths of gold chain. She carried a handled shopping bag from an exclusive chocolate and sweet shop.
“Good afternoon,” she said formally to the receptionist, who had put aside her work as soon as Barbie set foot inside the suite. “Happy Valentine’s day to you. I’m Barbie Stringfellow”— Barbie pointed a manicured and beringed finger at her chest—“and I would like to see Iris Thorne, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Barbie wandered to the perimeter of the lobby and peeked down the corridor in both directions. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
The receptionist picked up the telephone. “Let me see if Ms. Thorne is in.”
Barbie waved dismissively. “Don’t trouble yourself, sugar. I’ll just go surprise her. I can find my way.”
“Excuse me.” The receptionist scooted forward in her chair. “Ma’am!”
Barbie had already turned down the corridor, heading the wrong way.
“Shoot.” The receptionist punched in Iris’s extension.
Barbie walked past the lobby again, now heading in the right direction toward the Sales Department.
“Ma’am!” the receptionist shouted again.
Barbie gave her a friendly wave as she flounced by, swinging the shopping bag.
Iris didn’t pick up her phone. The receptionist started to go after Barbie but saw her with Billy Drye and assumed he would find Iris for her.
“Well, hello there.” In her heels, Barbie was eye level with the diminutive Drye. “And who might you be?”
Drye looked Barbie up and down, then held his hand out. “Bill Drye. May I be of assistance?”
Barbie took his hand. “Well, Mr. Drye, I’m Barbie Stringfellow and yes, you may. I’m looking for Iris Thorne.” She released his hand.
“You’re Iris’s new client.” He took a step closer and sniffed the air in her direction. “That’s a very seductive fragrance.”
“That’s what I paid for. Thank you for noticin’. Well, hello, Arturo.”
Art walked up to them. “What a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“You two know each other?” Billy Drye asked slyly.
“Just slightly,” Art blurted. He took Barbie’s arm and started walking away from Drye. “Those documents I was telling you about are over here.”
“Nice to have met you, Mr. Drye,” Barbie said over her shoulder.
“Pleasure’s all mine.” He grinned.
“Pleasant fellow,” Barbie said to Art.
“He’s the office gossip.”
“Don’t worry, sugar. I don’t kiss and tell.”
Iris was walking toward them down the corridor.
“There’s the lady of the day!” Barbie exclaimed.
Iris extended her hand to Barbie. Barbie took it, pulled Iris toward her, and planted a kiss on her cheek, leaving a large, red lip mark.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” Iris said.
“I just brought little a Valentine’s cheer for you and Arturo.”
“That’s nice of you. Come into my office.”
Art followed them to the corner office.
“Have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee, soda, or something?”
Art lingered in the doorway.
“Thank you, darlin’, but I won’t stay long.” She reached into the shopping bag, took out a small heart-shaped candy box, and handed it to Art. “This is for you.”
“Thanks.” He beamed. “I think this is the first time a woman’s ever given me candy.”
“Well, life still holds lots of firsts for you, don’t it, Arturo?” she winked at him.
Art blushed.
Barbie reached into the bag again and handed Iris a large, elaborately decorated heart-shaped candy box. “They’re cherry cordials. My favorites. I hope you like them too.”
“Love them. What a beautiful box. Thank you.” Iris opened the box and offered the chocolate-covered cherries to Barbie.
Art looked at Iris’s candy box, from which Barbie was carefully making her selection, and dangled his by his side, as if it were of no consequence. “Iris’s is bigger.”
Iris offered the box to him. “Cherry cordial?” She smirked.
He declined.
Barbie popped the chocolate into her mouth and bit down. “Mmm…Delicious. Arturo, I just wanted to thank Iris for all the money she’s earned for me. It don’t mean I think any less of you, sugar.”
“Shoot, I don’t care,” Art said. “I was just making a comment.”
Iris bit into a piece of the candy, savoring the sweet smoothness of the cherry-flavored cream, the bitterness of the chocolate, and tart snap of the cherry. She smiled at Art, but it was still more of a smirk.
“Iris,” Barbie said. “I’m just out and about and thought that if you had a moment we could grab a bite or a drink.”
“Barbie, I’d love to, but I’m taking my mother to tea.”
“Oh, how wonderful. How darlin’ of you. Where y’all goin’?”
“The Ritz Carlton Huntington.”
“Oh, delightful. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Barbie paused and looked at Iris coquettishly. “You got room for one more maybe?”
“Well, I’d like to do that some time, Barbie, but this is my day with my mom.”
“Of course,” Barbie said. “Maybe later, for dinner?”
“John’s cooking dinner for me tonight.”
“What a lucky girl you are. So many valentines.” Barbie stood and patted her winged hair. “Well, honey, you just enjoy yourself. We’ll do it some other time.”
“I’m free, Barbie, until later tonight,”
Art said.
“You got yourself a little Valentine’s date later?”
“Well, yeah. I would have…If I’d known…I figured you had plans. I can make an excuse.”
“Honey, I wouldn’t dream of it. I think I’ll treat myself to a massage at the spa and then just relax at home.”
Iris came from behind her desk and gave Barbie a hug, tinkling her heart earrings. “Let’s have lunch next week. I’ll call you.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, darlin’,” Barbie said to her. “Enjoy yourself today.” She turned to Art and scratched a polished nail against his cheek. “And I’ll talk to you later.”
She walked out of the suite. Art followed her to the elevator, still dangling the candy box she’d given him. Barbie pressed her finger against the heat-sensitive call button that glowed amber at her touch.
“I can change my plans,” Art said. “We can do the town.”
“Arturo. I’m not gonna be responsible for you breakin’ a Valentine’s date. I had you all to myself earlier this week. Let another girl have a turn. We’ll get together some other night.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’m still recoverin’. You wore this old broad out.”
“Is that the only way you think of me? For sex?”
“How would you like me to think of you, honey?”
“As a potential business partner. Did you forget about the club? You said you were going to think about it.”
“I have. And I am. And I will. It’s a promise.”
The elevator arrived. Barbie got in.
“Let me arrange a meeting with my uncle. I’d like you to meet him, then we can really talk business.”
“I’ll call you. Bye-bye, sugar.” The elevator doors closed.
Art slammed the candy box in the trash.
Iris came out of the suite and pressed the elevator’s down button. “What’s going on? You look mad about something.”
A dimple formed in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. He shook his head.
“What?” Iris persisted.
“Why does Barbie have such a hard-on for you?”
“She’s my client. Your clients have brought you gifts, haven’t they?”
He turned and walked back inside the suite.
John and Iris were eating dinner at the scrubbed pine table in his dining room. She set her fork down, leaned back in her chair, and rubbed her full belly.
“Delicious chicken chasseur. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thanks. This was fun. I’ve been working so many hours, seems like a long time since I’ve made dinner like this. I think the last time was when I made chili and Penny was here.”
“We could use some time off, you and me. I’m looking forward to our trip to the Mariah Lodge.”
“That’s a couple of weeks away.”
“Well, I’m still looking forward to it.”
“I have to remember to tell Penny that Chloe will be with her that weekend.”
“Speaking of Chloe, did she say anything about my bracelet?”
“Why should she?” he asked sharply. “I told you she doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I was just wondering.”
Buster, the bull terrier, attempted to approach the table. He forgave Iris all her shortcomings as he turned his one soft brown eye on her and begged for a scrap. Iris, ever hopeful of mending fences, pulled a piece of chicken from the bone and held it toward him. He opened his powerful jaws and gently took it from her fingers.
“Buster,” John chided. “Iris, please don’t feed him. He’s too fat as it is.”
Buster retreated to a corner of the dining room and turned his one cold blue eye on John.
“Ready for dessert?” John asked. “I have ice cream.”
“And cherry cordials.” Iris left the table and returned with the fancy candy box.
“Secret admirer?”
“Barbie brought them to the office. Wasn’t that sweet?”
“Valentine’s candy? That’s kind of weird.”
“Why? I’ve made her good money. She wants to thank me.”
“She sure is in your face a lot.”
“She’s just lonely. I have to stay on her good side, since I’m about to hit her up for the rest of the dough she was talking about. You know what happened today? My mom and I were going to tea at the Ritz Carlton Huntington, but we changed our minds at the last minute and went to the Bel Age instead. Guess who walks in?”
“Barbie.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“Some coincidence.”
“It was a coincidence, okay? You’ve been a cop for too long.”
“Did she have tea with you?”
“Yes, then she and my mom went shopping.”
“You let your mom go with her?”
“John, my mother can make her own decisions. What’s your problem with Barbie, anyway?”
“There’s something about her I don’t like.”
“You made that clear at dinner the other night. Just don’t forget, she’s one of my biggest clients.”
The phone rang.
“Let the machine pick up,” Iris said. “We haven’t finished dinner.”
They waited in silence while John’s outgoing message played. The phone was in the living room, but the amplified voice could be clearly heard in the dining room. “Hi, John, it’s Penny. I’m just calling to say hello and…”
He got up from the table and walked toward the living room.
“John, if we’d gone out for dinner, you couldn’t have answered it.”
“Well, we’re not out for dinner.”
After he’d left the room, she threw her napkin on the table and walked softly to stand beside the arched entrance to the living room. She couldn’t hear John’s exact words but his voice was low and soothing.
“I’d better go. I’m getting ready to have dessert. With Iris, yeah.”
He hung up and Iris hopped on tiptoes back to the dining room.
“Everything okay?” she asked when he entered the room.
“Fine. Ready for dessert?”
“I guess.”
“Something wrong?” His shoulders tensed as if he were bracing for a fight.
Iris weighed the possibilities. Have a fight or finish dinner? She decided. They could always fight tomorrow. “I’ll get bowls for the ice cream. You want coffee?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Several weeks later, Iris was arriving home from work and heard the phone ringing as she unlocked the door to her condo.
“Hi, darlin’. It’s Barbeh!”
“Now what?” Iris snapped at the machine.
“Just callin’ to see what you’re up to.”
Iris stood her briefcase under the small antique table in the entryway and put her purse on top of the table as she did at the end of every workday. She picked up the telephone, interrupting Barbie in midsentence.
“Hi Barbie. I just walked in the door.”
“Hi, sugar. You sound tired.”
“I am. I stayed late at the office to take care of a few things before John and I take off.”
“That’s right. The big romantic weekend with your cop. Happy birthday, birthday girl.”
“My birthday’s actually Saturday, but thanks.”
“Well, I want to take you out for a little birthday cheer, honey. You busy now?”
“Now? I have to pack. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Next week, then. What day’s good for you?”
“Barbie, can I call you? I’m so busy and I just stepped through the door and—”
“Of course you can, honey. Of course you are. I’ll talk to you later. You have a good time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Iris hung up. “What is her problem? Can’t she be alone for five minutes? Why the hell did I ever give her my home number?”
She opened the terrace doors, poured a glass of wine, took h
er clothes off, hung them up, peeled off her pantyhose, and threw them on top of a pile in the corner of the closet. She pulled on her old sweats that had holes worn in them and a T-shirt from a concert given by a band that had broken up eight years ago. She took off her makeup, washed her face, and brushed the mousse and hairspray from her hair. The workday was officially over.
She reached back inside the closet, grabbed the mound of soiled pantyhose, and threw them into the light of day. She’d just worn the last of the three dozen she’d ordered when they were on sale. She carried the mound into the bathroom, crammed it into the sink, and started running water when her doorbell rang.
“Son of a bitch.” She stood over the sink, her hands dripping with soap suds, and debated whether she should answer it.
“Iris, you there?” She heard John’s voice through the door.
She wiped her hands on a towel, ran to the door, and opened it. “Hello, you.” She put her arms around him and reached to kiss him on the lips.
He halfheartedly puckered his lips in her direction.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head and walked past her into the condo. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Ooo-kay.” She followed him into the living room and gestured toward the couch. “Sit?”
He paced around the room. His height made the room look small. “I’d rather stand.”
“All right. How did you get past the security door downstairs?”
“Someone who was leaving held the door open for me.”
“Great. You want to go out on the terrace?”
“Yeah.”
“You want something to drink?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t mind if I do. Something tells me I’m going to need it.” She disappeared, returned with the glass of wine, and set it on the terrace railing.
The mid-March air was mild and warm and hinted of summer to come.
John looked over the terrace wall. “Hey, you!”
The street man looked up at him.
“What the hell are you doing down there? This is private property.”
The street man ignored him.
“Aw, leave him alone,” Iris said. “He doesn’t bother anyone.”
