"Did not!" I threw a pillow at her. "And what a disgusting way you put it!"
"You did! I can see it! You're all red!" She was laughing now. Damn it.
"He was nice, wasn't he?" she said.
Fuck it, I was starting to get warm again...
"I got his number for you."
She stopped, an iota of seriousness going over her face. Or was it? "Huh?"
"I said I got his number for you."
She smiled again, but I could see now that it was forced. That she was trying to hide what she was really thinking which was: Damn, sister. You gonna screw my guys just like that last bitch?
"Kayla, he picked you up from that hotel. I went looking for you and found him and then..."
"Oh my God." She ran her fingers through her hair. "That is so embarrassing."
"So, anyway, he seems like a nice guy. I mean, a nice guy for you."
She was all serious now, coffee back on the coffee table. She sat back, brought her knee to her chest and looked out into the hall. (She also had on yellow socks. My yellow socks!)
"Yeah, well, thanks, but I'm good," she said.
I stared at her.
"What, you want me to call him and say, 'Uh, high, guy that I screwed, thank you for saving me from being raped by that bald fat dude who smelled like he'd been on the treadmill for an hour.'"
"That's exactly what I'd like you to tell him."
"You know I'm no good with relationships, don't you?"
"This isn't a relationship, Kay. It's politeness."
It's good that she didn't have any coffee in her mouth, because she would've spat it out. "Politeness?" She made air quotes. "Well, Headmistress Tabathy—"
"Oh, shut up!"
She laughed at me—again!
"Just as an FYI," she said, "I have no problem with you and him, you know, doing..." She stuck a finger through a loop of her hands and moved it back and forth.
"You are so gross."
"That's why you love me." And now her grin was delightfully Mary Poppinnesque. All she needed was the umbrella.
"I do love you, Kay. I love you more than anyone."
"Oh, don't get all first-world fucking sympathetic with me, girl."
I shrugged, feeling insanely emotional for some inane and incomprehensible reason. Kayla came over and hugged me. "I love you too. You and your dumbass comments."
-2-
We were interrupted by a liveried Maria walking in. "Oh, hello, Ms Kayla. Did you have a good night?" she said.
Maria is practically my mom. I mean, the real mom. You know, the one who provides the emotional support when I need it (not to mention some bad-ass Mexican food whenever I'm in the mood for a binge.)
And she doesn't judge Kayla. In fact, I think she quite likes her. Kayla's not a stuck-up snob as is so common in this party of town. And, even though her mom makes plenty of dough, Kayla's upbringing in Brooklyn (more recently, Park Slope) has kept her untarnished with respect to "the high life."
"Um, Maria, we had...not the greatest night," Kayla confessed.
Concern washed over Maria's face. "Oh, dear, everything OK?"
"Yeah, yeah." Kayla patted me on the leg. "I have a good friend. Two good friends it seems." She winked at me. (So, she admitted that Brad was part of the solution last night, eh?)
"That is what life is about, no?"
"So they say. Now I'm going for a shower." Kayla got up and headed for the main bathroom.
Maria got on with her work and I went to my room for my own shower. It was Saturday, and I didn't need to work out today.
I had another look at Conall Williams's card. Why had he given it to me? And who was that guy at Raphael's place that looked like him? And how frickin old was he anyway? Was I wanting to call him because he was gorgeous, or because I somehow wanted to ram my fists into someone's face for what (almost) happened to Kayla at that drunken revelry?
Yeah, it was that last reason....
One thing was for sure, thinking of Mr. British Blue Eyes brought zero reaction down in the Southern Department. Nothing, Nada. Zilch. I was about as turned on by him as I normally was by a wet noodle.
And, yet, he did have those adorable eyes.
"Ah, fuck it." I flung the damn card on my nightstand and jumped in the shower.
-3-
I couldn't help thinking of Brad again. Images of him came to me like a freight train and crashed into my mind...
But I knew where I stood on this one. There was no questioning it and I wasn't suffering a "moral dilemma" about it all. Mr. Scorpion Tattoo was hot. And he'd screwed my friend. And that was that.
Only problem is, I wasn't sure if that friend was going to try and hook us up herself now that she knew I'd...how had she put it?...doused the digits. (Where does she come up with these things...?)
I turned the water down to cold and froze my frickin ass off. But it did the trick. I dried myself down and headed back to Conall Williams's card.
Financial Software Consultant.
I made my decision.
I called him.
-4-
"Conall."
"Er, hi, um...." Damn it! Now I'm gonna sound desperate. It's hardly been twelve hours since I met the guy and I'm calling him? But, no, this is for my friend. So what the fuck am I so nervous for?
Car horns honked behind him.
"Hello?" he repeated.
"Um, hi, um, yes, C—C—Conall?"
"Yes, who's this?" Why did he have to have a goddamn accent? That was not playing fair...
"Um, this is Leor—"
"Leora..." By the way he'd said it, it sounded like his eyes had just gone wide and he'd gotten a grin on his face...
"I'm so glad you called," he continued. "Look, I truly do apologize for my behavior last night. I was at that stupid club on business and I couldn't wait to get out of there and have a shower. Would you like to get some coffee?"
I gulped. Coffee?
"Um, yeah, sure..." I noticed I was talking quietly.
"What's your schedule like now?"
Schedule? You gotta be kidding. "Um, it's free— Oh, no, wait—" I thought of Kayla. I had to be with her today. "Um, actually, today is not good, or... Can I call you back?" Doh!
"Why, yes, of course. I have a number of meetings today as well—internal stuff because bankers don't work on a Saturday." He gave a chuckle. "Um, but I have your number now. Would it be alright if I called you tomorrow? Maybe we could grab a coffee then?"
My throat got thick. I squeezed my legs, crossed them. Why did this guy have this effect on me. Heck, why did all these guys seem to be having this effect on me lately? I decided it was because my period had just ended and I was like a dog on heat. Yeah, that was it. And yeah, I had just compared myself to a mutt.
"Leora?"
"Uh, yeah, hi!"
Right then, Kayla walked into my room, wrapped in a towel. No doubt to rummage through my clothes.
"Is tomorrow OK? I'll call you."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Bye!" I hung up. Great, Leora. Smooth. Very smooth.
"Was that Brad?" asked Kayla from within my walk-in.
"No!" I threw the phone down.
"The other guy?"
"How do you know it was a guy?"
"Because you're red as a girl on—"
"Stop! My God, do you really go to a school with the word 'Convent' in the name?"
"Hey, it's not my fault my mom wants to atone for her sins by sending me to a catholic school. What's your excuse?"
I said nothing, played idly with my sheets.
"Leora?"
"Uh, yeah, sorry. Look, are you gonna call Brad or not?"
"God, can a woman get dressed first? And why are you so hot for me to call him. I told you, if you like him, go for him. I'm cool with it. He's not my boyfriend or anything."
Yeah, but he should be.
"I'm not interested in him," I lied. But, technically, it was the truth. Because I'd never do anything with him. Now if
Kayla could just stop reminding me about it then I might actually stick to my promise.
I watched her as she strolled up and down my closet, pulling out dresses and putting them in front of her. Not a care in the world. I saw small bruises on her waist. Fingertips. So he had grabbed her there. (Kayla had one of those skin types that bruise with the slightest of touches.)
"You checking out my junk?" she asked, turning to face me full frontal.
"You're so crass."
She pulled out an open sleeve shirtdress and put it on. Then grabbed some ragged tights. The shoes, however, were her own. She always kept a few pairs at my place. "There, all done. You been standing watching me all the time?"
"Yeah, I guess I have... Sorry."
"Shit, girl. Here. Put something on!" I unwrapped myself from the towel. "Damn! You're looking buff, Leora!"
"Huh?" I looked at my ass in the mirror. "No, I'm not!"
"Yes you are! Soon you're gonna grow a beard and start talking with a gruff voice!"
She was exaggerating of course. I was short and stocky. Better than short and pudgy, that's for sure. Some of us just have to work harder to keep our shape. And I hadn't found Mr. Right yet... It was a subject I didn't want to discuss.
I put on some denims and a tank top, covered it all with a simple sweater. "Perfect. Starbucks?"
"No way. There's this new place called Café Mocca down on 3rd. I wanted to check out."
"Let's do it."
-5-
Café Mocca was cool. It was in a small hidden corner and didn't fit a lot of people. You could actually hear yourself talk! They had couches and one-seaters and ambient music. Artsy paintings filled the wall. One of a cow. One of what looked like a breast...or a cab? I couldn't really tell. And another of, well, a bunch of green stuff. That one was going for over four thousand dollars!!
The barista was Greek. Turns out "Mocca" is this "much better coffee" (according to him) that they drink over in Greece. The guy had a nice smile, sweet dimples, an unshaven face and very dark hair on his arms...
Get a hold of yourself!
His talk of Greece got me thinking of Europe. Little did I know I wouldn't be the one to bring it up. In fact, when Kayla mentioned it, I did spit my coffee out. And that wasn't because "Mocca" did not turn out to be nearly as good as sexy-hairy-chest Greek dude had made just it out to be.
"You're doing what?" I spewed.
"I said I'm going to Europe. End of the year. I decided last night. While on your couch."
I stared at her. Behind her was a splattering of red and black paint on a canvas which added to the horror of it. "You. My friend, Kayla, who said that all Europeans are about as interesting as frogs' legs (and that they eat them as well.)"
"No, I said that about the French. I mean, the eating part. Because Europeans are a little weird. But I'm also weird. So I'm going."
"Whatever happened to getting a job, learning to stand on your own two feet?"
"Fuck that. I don't do any standing in this town. I do a bunch of bending, on my knees, with a fucking dick up my crotch."
Wow. She really had a way of putting things. I swallowed, tried to get the image out my mind.
"Last night was a wake-up call, Leora. I need to get away from here. From these influences. I—I need to 'find myself' or whatever you rich bitches tell yourselves."
I chuckled. "You're also a rich bitch."
"Am not! How's that Mocca?"
"Disgusting. But don't change the subject."
She took her foot off the couch and sat forward, elbows on her knees, twirled the hot coffee. "I just need to get away, Leo. It's..." She put the coffee down, rubbed the shaved side of her head. "It's just too much for me here. Too many memories. Too many—"
"I know." She'd explained herself enough. It was hard enough that she had to live with it. She didn't need to explain it to her best friend like some sort of excuse, too. "You don't need to explain."
She gave a wan smile. "I'd go now but I don't wanna end up like some white trash bimbo who couldn't even get herself an education. Although, the way I'm feeling, I could give a rat's ass about that right now."
After a long while of silence, she said, "Hey, gimme that Bradley guy's number. I think I might see him again."
"Oh, um, lemme see if I have—"
"Don't fuckin bullshit me, moron. We haven't been best friends all these years for nothing."
I felt myself blush, threw her my iPhone. "It's under 'Kayla: Brad.'"
"What, so you don't make a mistake and call the fucker? Is that why my name is on there?"
"That's exactly why it's on there!"
"Look, Leo, this guy is just sex to me. You tell me if you—"
"No, I don't!"
"Oh, sorry, Miss Mysterious Guy from the Club. How's that going for you?"
"Actually..."—I swallowed—"He wants to hook up tomorrow."
"Sweet!"
Yeah, she wouldn't think it was so sweet if he was somehow linked up with that disgusting crowd she'd gotten herself hooked up with last night.
"You know," she continued, "Brad had some hot friends as well—"
"I know. I saw them, remember? I had all of them in the limo—"
"Oh, my God! You had all of them in the limo! Bad."
"Jeez! You're so fucking one-track minded! Down girl!"
She guffawed back into the chair, my phone to her ear while she waited for Brad to pick up...
"Oh, hi," she said into the phone. I sat back, trying to hear Brad's voice. "Yes, it's me.... Well, I just wanted to let you know that I think you are the most gorgeous, sexiest, hottest fucking guy I have ever seen in my life.... Correct. Well, I was thinking, could we meet tomorrow? Uh-huh.... No, well, I see...."
Disappointment shrouded her face. "Well, that's because you don't know what I taste like...."
OK, this was just making me uncomfortable now. It's one thing to fantasize. It's another to hear it right next to you! Takes all the glamour out of it...
"OK, well, we'll just have to play it by ear. You rub mine and I'll rub yours, know what I mean? No, no! Please, wait! I'm sorry.... OK, fine.... Look, I was just trying to play a joke on my friend. It's not Leora, it's Kayla, her best friend."
Huh?
Shock filled my face. I got the sensation of falling off a building. I spilled some hot coffee on my hand. "Shit!" Then the whole cup flew down and there was coffee all over the table and the magazines because I'd burned myself.
Kayla said, "Um, look, Conall—"
Conall? Fuck!
"—Leora is having an emergency here. Just a second."
I stared at her. She shrugged, held the phone to me as if to say: So? You gonna take it or not?
I picked up the phone. "Um, h—hello?"
I waited for the response from the other side as if, by some miracle, Kayla had only been screwing with me. But I heard a chuckle. Yes, a distinctly British chuckle.
Oh. My. God.
"Well, I assume this means we have a date tomorrow," he said, the laughter evident in his voice.
"Um..." I mouthed to Kayla frantically: What did you do!? Accentuating every word with my hands. She shrugged innocently, then did a gesture that could only mean one thing (similar to the finger through the loop gesture earlier... Only much worse.)
"Um, look, Mr. Williams..." Mr.? WTF? "I mean, Conall—"
"Leora, I don't know what your friend told you, but I was a little shocked by what she said to me. I really just want to go for coffee with you. Chat to you. I'm British. We don't do the sex on the first date thing very well in general... Well, generally speaking, I mean— Now I'm rambling."
I knew how he felt.
"Look, Leora, coffee? That's all. Can we do that?"
"Uh, sure, actually, there's a place called Café Mocca on third—"
"I know the place."
"You do?"
"Yes, I bought a piece there just yesterday. Great art on those walls."
I choked. I sure as fuck
hoped he bought something better than the "I'm a breast, no I'm a cab, no I'm puke" piece!
"Pick a time," he finished.
"Ten?"
"It's a date. See you then."
My hand quivered on the phone after the word "date."
I turned to face Kayla. She was sitting smug on the one-seater, legs stretched out, arms hanging to the side.
"I hate you," I said.
"No, you don't. You love me. So, he's British, eh?"
I shook my head, trying to look pissed but kinda glad she took the jump for me. Only problem is that this guy might've been involved with....
"I'm gonna wash my hands of this coffee."
"FYI, I did text Brad while you were blabbering away over there with Mr. Charming."
Butterflies hit my stomach, low. "You did?"
"Yeah, I thanked him."
"I really need to splash some water on my face. And wash my hands, I mean, and my face, and— Aw, fuck it."
CHAPTER FIVE
-1-
The next morning.
I didn't wanna overdo it, and I also didn't want to come across looking like a skank. So I put on some brown Matisse boots and a Vigoss vest over a simple tee. To top it off I picked a baker boy hat and ruffled my hair a bit. There. I was ready. So why was I so damn nervous?
Of course, it didn't help that Kayls kept texting me about this "date" and wanting to know what I was wearing and had I left yet and what does his ass look like...
I text her back.
Leora: I'm leaving home now! Now stop texting me!
Kayla: LOL. You know our rule. Always pick up. Always answer. It's payback.
Damn it. She was never gonna let me live down that fiasco with her and Brad. A stray thought came up again. Umpf, oooh. You like that?
No! Not now. I splashed my face with water and walked out.
I got to Mocca a little too early so I asked Leroy to drive around a little. At ten-fifteen I got out and walked in.
Conall was on a one-seater, two tables back from where Kayla and I had sat yesterday, head buried in a tattered Financial Times. (Didn't they only publish that Monday to Saturday?) Brown shoes, very brightly polished, a grey sports coat, grey slacks. My God, I was so out of my league... What was this: Billionaire's Romance?
I turned around.
"Ah, Leora!"
Finding North (Naïve Mistakes Series) Page 4
