One Night Stand (New Yorker III)

by M. O. Kenyan

  She watched him as he walked back to her table. His smile was as wide as that of a Cheshire cat. He was planning something and she knew his type of guy. But, unlucky for him, he didn’t know the kind of girl she had been forced to become. Her break up with Michael Mathews had taught her a thing or two about being skeptical about every man she met.

  “Over here,” he said, as Catalella focused on the authoritative vibe he gave off as he instructed the waiter where to put the extra table.

  Once she had arranged everything in her new space and placed her lunch order, Catalella went back to her work. Her cold demeanor had protected her and not let her down so far. It didn’t matter that he made her tingle in all the right places, or that she could barely catch her breath under the intensity of his gaze. Catalella wasn’t about to let him in only for him to destroy her on his way out.

  She heard a chair being dragged towards her and lifted her head as he sat opposite her. There were two tables between them, but that wasn’t enough of a distance.

  “Thank you,” she said in a dismissive tone, hoping that he would leave her alone. But he didn’t. He sat there staring at her, with a smile and a quizzical look in his eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and flashed his dazzling smile.

  A trade mark, Catalella thought. I bet that’s how he gets all the ladies.

  She pushed her papers aside when her plate of salad arrived. All she wanted to do was to sink her teeth into a big, juicy steak. But she couldn’t risk soiling all her papers—they were the only copies. Plus, she needed her daily intake of greens for her nutritious diet. Catalella was determined not to let any form of sickness or disease claim her body ever again. She hated how weak she felt when she had leukemia. She didn’t leave anything to chance these days—a headache had her seeing a neurologist, she admitted herself into hospital when she got a cough or flu, she dared the Manhattan traffic by taking her own car so that she wouldn’t be exposed to secondary smoke and she had a nutritionist on speed dial. She hated everything that had to do with the hospital, but it was a necessary evil if she wanted to stay alive.

  “The usual, sir?” she heard the waiter ask.

  The usual? Here I thought that I was their most loyal customer. This guy even has a usual. But having a usual made him a creature of habit. Safe, predictable and maybe, just maybe, the kind of guy she needed. But she didn’t recall ever seeing him in this restaurant before. Since she started her job a year ago, De Alma had been her go to restaurant.

  “Would you like anything else?” It wasn’t until she was looking deep into the aqua blues that she noticed she was staring. Catalella could hear a hint of humor in his tone. It was obvious that he had noticed her ogling him.

  “No thanks, a glass of water.” She smiled weakly at the waiter.

  “Do you only eat salads?” She felt herself grow hot under the collar from the way he studied her body. What exactly was he looking for? “You’re very curvaceous for someone who only eats salads.”

  The desire that burned bright in his eyes was obvious, and the change in his tone only expressed what his eyes said he was feeling.

  “I don’t want to get sauce all over my papers,” she said as she gestured towards them.

  “Oh.”

  “Is there something that you need?” Go away. Go away.

  “Food and your company.” He smiled at her, his eyes finally leaving her stack of papers.

  “I really want to be alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Honestly, I don’t see how it is any of your business.” She wanted to take back her words when the friendly expression on his face disappeared and hostility replaced it.

  “Ice queen,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me, what did you say?” Catalella pushed her plate aside and her arms crossed over her chest, ready for a battle of words. He wasn’t going to insult her and get away with it.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” He smirked. “Let me rephrase that. Is there anyone who can stand being in your presence for more than a second? Do you know anyone who isn’t affected by your venomous tongue?”

  Catalella grinned back despite her exasperation. She wasn’t going to let him know how his words cut deep into her. Ice Queen—she’d heard that before. People in the office referred to her as the African-Latin-American Hitler. According to them there was a bad mix in the test tube she had come from that made her sour inside and out. She had heard every single possible joke thrown her way and she never let anyone see how they hurt.

  She attempted to frame a response, but instinct had already clicked in and the words flew out of their own accord. “No, I don’t have anyone not blood-related to me that can stand my venomous tongue. But I had a husband, and he didn’t leave me because I was an Ice Queen but because I kept on ‘almost’ dying. When he saw I wasn’t dying soon enough he decided to divorce me.”

  Shit! Did that come out of my mouth? Catalella cursed herself as the man’s stoic look turned to one of pity. She hated being pitied. She had seen how people looked at her and hovered over her when she was sick, and had promised herself that she wouldn’t be the subject of such an emotion ever again.

  Catalella stood, gathered her things, and looked around the room for the waiter who had served her. But, although he took a step forward when she called him, he stopped.

  “It’s all right. Your lunch is on me,” the man said, his voice flat and his face expressionless.

  “I can pay for my own meal.” She tried calling for the waiter again but he didn’t move.

  “Don’t be stubborn. I’ll pay for it.” The frustration was back in his voice and, oddly enough, she was relieved.

  “Fine, suit yourself.”

  Catalella cradled her files and papers in her arm as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. He watched as she stood up but followed her to the front door and held it open for her, all the while avoiding her gaze. She had gotten used to men not looking her in the eye. He grabbed her arm as she stepped out then said, “I’m sorry you were married to your husband.”

  No one was sorrier than she was.

  * * * *

  “Struck out?” Rich stared at the bartender, unsure of what his reaction should be.

  It was obvious that he had hurt her with his words. I’m sorry you were married to your husband… What the hell was that? He had set out to thaw out the ice princess but her chill had seeped into his heart.

  “She’s damaged goods,” he said as he sat down at the bar. “She needs the sort of guy that I’m not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rich shrugged his shoulders and stared down at the food he was served. He knew he was going to see her again, but he had to make sure their next encounter was pleasant.

  * * * *

  Another solitary bedtime, a long sleep with nobody in her bed except for herself and a pile of air… Catalella pulled the covers to her chest as she stared at the white ceiling above her. She looked to her side and was pleased that sleeping alone didn’t have as much of an effect on her anymore. But it didn’t keep her from feeling lonely, especially not tonight with the strange man intruding in her mind and making sleep impossible. She took one of her pillows and cuddled it as she begged for sleep to come and take her before she succumbed to the ache of knowing that hers was the only heartbeat she would hear that night.

  * * * *

  “Now I know I’ve seen everything.”

  Catalella sat up when her assistant, Darcy’s, voice pierced her thoughts.

  “What did you say?”

  Catalella fussed with the papers in front of her. She didn’t know what they were for. Her thoughts of the guy from De Alma had occupied her mind for the better part of the week. There was nothing she would have liked more than to get rid of him, but not even her work was helping. She looked around her desk and wondered where the mountain of paper work had come from.

  “Catalella Ross, daydreaming when she has the biggest account yet at her fingertips.” Darcy barked out a laug
h and took a seat across from her. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing,” Catalella mumbled as she flipped through the files, trying to establish some order on her desk. When Darcy didn’t speak again she looked up. Panic was evident in Darcy’s eyes. She saw that look in her family’s eyes when she said she had a headache or when she was under the weather. Catalella wasn’t allowed to wallow in her thoughts without anyone getting the wrong idea. “I’m not sick, Darcy. You can breathe now.”

  Darcy took an exaggerated deep breath and the smile settled back on her lips. “Let me guess—man trouble. Did you hear me?”

  Catalella stared at her friend slash assistant slash tormentor and wondered if she should tell her about the guy at the restaurant. Darcy would obviously blow it out of proportion, but this mystery man might help reduce her tormentor’s insistence that she meet someone new.

  “There is this guy—”

  “I knew it.” Darcy cut her off and jumped to her feet, doing a victory dance.

  “I haven’t even finished my story and you’re already rejoicing.” It was hard for Catalella to hide the amusement from her tone. But she needed a reason to smile once in a while and Darcy’s joy was her reason for the moment.

  “You are totally missing the point,” Darcy squealed.

  “What is the point?” Catalella rested her elbow on her desk and her chin in her palm.

  “The point is, sweetheart,” Darcy took a seat and reached her hand out to touch Catalella, “you put yourself out there.”

  “He called me an Ice Queen, paid for my lunch and I left.”

  She saw the pained expression on Darcy’s face. “Baby steps. Right now let’s celebrate the little victories. You let a man pay for your food and that, in my book, is a date.” With a frown she added: “Even though you probably said something that made him feel less like a man.”

  “I did not.” Catalella defended herself. Sure, she shared more information about herself than was necessary. But she didn’t offend him in any way. So why haven’t you gone back to the restaurant?

  “You met him at De Alma?” From the look on Darcy’s face, Catalella could see the wheels spinning in her head. She was up to something.

  “I’m afraid to ask what you’re up to.”

  “Today is Friday, so I am going to show you what the living do on Friday nights.” Darcy stood up and cradled her files to her chest, a cheeky smile on her face. She looked like a little girl who had a secret and wouldn’t tell.

  “Darcy—” Catalella called before the girl exited her office. “Before I told you about the guy, you asked me if I heard about something. What is it?”

  “Uhmmm…” Darcy’s brow creased. “I wasn’t snooping by the way.”

  “Of course!” Catalella said in disbelief.

  “I saw a memo circulating amongst the partners.” She swallowed hard and Catalella became more alert. It was bad news and she had to prepare herself for the blow. “Michael Mathews is being recruited into the firm as a junior partner.”

  “Sorry…what?”

  “I’ll meet you at your place at around eight,” Darcy said before she ran off.

  Catalella felt like she was back at the apartment she’d shared with her husband four years before. She stood there, hearing all the reasons he had to leave her. Her chest tightened as the all too familiar pain slammed back into her. She felt as if she was suffocating and for a second she thought she would swoon. She hadn’t seen Michael since that day. Any correspondence between them during the divorce was done through their lawyers. Now he was about to invade her domain, her sanctuary.

  Chapter Two

  She got control of her breathing and, when she thought her body was released from the shock and she could move, she rose to her feet and marched to the managing partner’s office.

  “Dennis, why didn’t you tell me that man is coming to work here?” She watched as his secretary scurried away, but not before giving her a look of concern.

  The older man was seated behind his mahogany desk in an office that she could fit her own and a couple of others into. He cleared his throat and stared her down. Catalella knew what it meant. She eased into a seat across from him, her hands folded on her lap.

  “The firm is under no obligation to inform you when we have a new hire.” His deep baritone voice filled every corner and crack in the office.

  “My father’s name is on the building,” she barked. Catalella took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves. “Does he know?”

  “Who told you in the first place? It’s not a done deal anyway.”

  “Does my father know that you are hiring his ex-son-in-law?” she insisted.

  “Your father retired from practicing. He is entitled to a lot of things from this firm. But when he is out-voted there is nothing we can do.” He grunted.

  “Were you also out voted, Uncle Denny?”

  “Yes, I was.” For the first time since she entered his office she saw a sympathetic look on his face. “Michael Mathews may be an asshole but he also commands the accounts of some of the richest people in New York.” He sighed. “You remember what we agreed on when you came to work here?”

  “Yes, in the office business comes first.” She moaned as she tried to blink back the tears clouding her eyes.

  “We need his clients, Lella.”

  Catalella released a frustrated groan as she stood up. She had come to work at her father’s and his best friend’s firm to continue her father’s legacy. Adrian Ross had retired when she got leukemia the second time. He wanted to make time for his family and, when she finally got better, the old man had decided he enjoyed retirement. Catalella finished law school and decided to become an associate in her father’s firm. But she was going to work from the bottom to the top, with no preferential treatment, and would earn the right to take over from the two old men.

  The tired look on Dennis’ face told her that she needed to prove herself sooner rather than later. His son would become an associate but he had a year left before he graduated from Harvard. In time the second generation would be running one of the most powerful legal firms in New York, but until then she would stomach Michael Mathews’ presence for the sake of the old men.

  She stood up, walked around the desk and planted a kiss on the old man’s temple. “I’m giving you notice. I’m firing you from your godfather duties. Get me a trinket and maybe I’ll change my mind.” The old man bellowed a laugh as she walked out.

  Catalella sat at her desk and focused on the papers in front of her. She was one of the youngest junior partners in the firm but if she could pull in this big fish she would become a senior partner, and in another year she could take over Dennis’ responsibilities. She was on the fast track to success and not even Michael Mathews could slow her down.

  It was around seven thirty when she finally lifted her head from her stack of papers.

  “Shit!” She swore as she grabbed her bag, her keys and some files she was going to look through during the weekend. Darcy was going to be at her place in half an hour…she needed to change, pick a dress and make herself look edible.

  Oh yeah! The bad news about having her deserter in her safe bubble had her desiring danger. Catalella was determined not to let Michael see what she had turned into and tonight was a practice run.

  * * * *

  “I can’t believe you made me wear this.” Catalella swore under her breath as she tried to get out of her BMW without showing what she had underneath the dress to the whole world.

  She had gotten to her flat in time before Darcy had arrived. But she had no time to blow out her hair, and now her long locks cascaded in wild, untamed curls. She also didn’t have the opportunity to pick her own dress. Darcy had brought one for her—it was red and tight and gave her a vixen look, especially with the smoky eyes and solid red lipstick. When she left her flat she was confident in how she looked, but now that they were about to be in public, fear set in. She stood stunned at the entrance in disbelief. Darcy had
given her directions to the place but, for the life of her, she couldn’t believe that she hadn't noticed that Darcy was directing her to De Alma.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” Catalella swore.

  “Here is where you met the only man in New York that still has their balls after having been in contact with you. I thought it was the best place for you to start.” She chuckled.

  “Start what?” She was drawn to a sign on her right and sighed in relief. “Besides it says ‘Private Party’. Since we don’t have any invitations we should leave.”

  “I have our invitations right here.” Catalella watched in disbelief as Darcy pushed her boobs up and winked at the man at the door. Without a second's hesitation they were let in.

  “Do the twins get you into every private party?” Catalella teased.

  “Every single one.”

  Catalella’s hands went instinctively to cover her ears once they were inside. The once quaint, spacious restaurant seemed to be filled to the brim. It had undergone a transformation since the last time she was here. The tables and chairs had been pushed to the outer walls. It was dimly lit with a montage of colors lighting the room, and music shook the pillars of the restaurant as an average of fifty people danced or jumped around. She turned to face Darcy when she nudged her in the ribs. She was saying something but she couldn’t hear. Catalella could barely hear herself think in the loud music.

  She leaned into Darcy and shouted: “What did you say?”

  “Let’s dance,” Darcy shouted back.

  Catalella went stiff…dance…she didn’t dance. She shook her head and leaned into her friend once more. “Not now, let me get a drink into my system.”

  “By drink you mean—?” Darcy left the sentence hanging, a smirk on her lips.