by Kris Calvert
Applause again rang out through the room and a booming sound system blasted out an upbeat tune as I left the stage through the curtains, ready to be finished.
“Nice job, buddy.”
Red Laskin shook my hand and gave it a strong twist. One of the other doctors on the clinical trial team, Red tried to be a friend to me over the past two years, when my life was anything but stellar. My career in high gear, my world seemed to stall while all around me the people in my life found their way down the road of happily ever after. I, on the other hand, continued to work as a doctor and quiet mercenary in a world of unrest. I liked Red okay, but there was something off about him I could never put my finger on and I prided myself on being an excellent judge of character.
“Thanks, Red. I went off on my own at the end. I’m not much on marketing spin.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling me in to whisper in my ear. “There’s only so much bullshit you can spread without coming off like a farmer instead of a doctor.” He laughed at his own joke, his gold crowns showing at the back of his mouth.
Fifteen years older than me, Red was single and chased tail like it was his second job. I was happy to have him as my friend. I always kept my friends close and my enemies closer. Those lines had been blurred too many times for me to count and because of that, and other reasons—I was a loner.
Red lived in New York City and not my home of Shadeland, Alabama. Granted it would be easier to keep tabs on him if he were closer, but the occasional wild weekend with Red The Party Animal was enough for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like charming the ladies—I did. But I wasn’t the kind of man who could get involved easily. Subsequently, women and sex had turned into more of a game for me—a mutually satisfying one, but a game nonetheless.
The burden of carrying around my life by myself since college was wearing on me like an old wool sweater that itched around the neck. It was comfortable enough, but still irritated the hell out of me most of the time. At thirty-three, I was ready and willing to shed the old and slip into something new.
“King Giles.”
My name sounded sweet off the lips of a woman I couldn’t see but only hear. Turning on my heels in the crowd of handshakes and glad-handing, I saw her. “Tina Joseph.”
Tan and brunette, Tina stood before me in a tight blue dress and the kind of heels that accentuated her muscular calves—calves that I distinctly remember being wrapped around my neck many nights long ago.
“I almost couldn’t believe it when you took the stage. King Giles. Dr. King Giles,” she repeated.
I nodded and pushed past two enthusiastic members of the press to give her a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” I held her at arm’s length. “Are you a member of the press or something? How’s your dad?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m a district manager for BioGen here in Atlanta. I’m a drug rep. I’ll be detailing Citoxole—that is if you guys can ever agree on anything and get the FDA approval. And my dad? Well, he’s just trying to find a way to leave his old life behind and retire in Sicily.”
“You work for BioGen,” I repeated, still in shock from seeing her again after twelve years.
Pulling away, Tina gave me the kind of smile only understood by old friends—a tacit expression that held years of history. If anyone could dish the dirt on my past, it was Tina. I wanted to talk to her, but duty called and by the quick smirk on her face she was more than aware of my predicament. “Meet me in the bar downstairs for a drink?” she asked over the crowd.
I nodded, finding myself pulled backwards and into the discussion at hand with Red and the many cameras and questions.
“Dr. Giles, some are calling this a miracle drug. What are your thoughts?” asked a pushy journalist holding his notepad in the air so I could identify who was speaking.
“Dr. Giles and I will be available tomorrow during a special Q and A where we will go over the specifics of the drug and answer any questions you may have,” Red shouted over the crowd. “Now, if you’ll please excuse us.”
Placing his hand on my shoulder, Red guided me through a door and into the service hallway filled with bustling hotel staff. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked under his breath as he looked around. Red had a way of being paranoid—something I attributed to his city upbringing.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Why would you start to take questions like that?”
“What’s wrong with you, Red?” I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. I didn’t like being told what to do or how to behave regardless of his suspicious ways. “I wasn’t taking questions.” I straightened my suit coat and pulled at my cufflinks, giving him a glare.
“Who was the brunette, King?” Red looked over his shoulder as if someone could be watching or listening to us. “Be careful about getting involved with the press. All we need is for you to bang some hot reporter, fall asleep and have someone digging through your research notes while you sleep off the remnants of a hot piece of ass.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, Red?” I fisted my hands on my hips in frustration.
“Look, I know you bang a lot of broads. I just didn’t want you to be caught with your dick in one hand and your research notes in the newspapers. Which, by the way, I need your clinical trial information so we can submit the positive results to the FDA as soon as possible. I want to take this drug to Main Street and you’re the only fucking fly in our ointment.”
Thinking back to how the tight fabric clung to Tina’s body, my mind momentarily wandered away from Red and his weekly rant on my clinical trial findings. “I’ve told you Red. I need to make sure we’ve documented any and all side effects. I’m not submitting anything until I’m comfortable with the findings and you shouldn’t be either.”
“You’re killing me, King.” Red paced as if he was hopped up on caffeine. “So, what about the brunette? What’s her story?
“Her story?” I asked shaking my head. “She’s not press. She’s an old girlfriend. She works for BioGen.”
He stared at me blank faced. Red was the kind of New York City doctor who’d seen it all and was wary of the world around him and everyone in it. Today, that apparently included me. I too was always on guard—always suspicious, but unlike Red, I was better at hiding it. I was highly skilled at hiding a lot of things.
“What?” He asked the question and squeezed his nose before slicking back his black hair with the palm of his hand. It was an anxious habit of his I’d learned. Antsy to a fault, I’d detailed Red’s personality and quirks early on—being and acting the quintessential wise guy was one of them. I couldn’t see the two gold chains that held the crucifix and star amulet to his chest, but I knew they were there—safely tucked inside the wife-beater he always wore under his fancy shirt and three thousand dollar suit.
“So she’s not a piece of ass from the press hoping for an exclusive after she gets you off?”
I looked to the floor trying to hide my amusement. “Ah, no.”
“Good.” It was as if he approved of my answer and wanted me to know it when I didn’t care what Red Laskin thought. “She looks like a hot piece of ass though—probably too hot,” he said, slapping me on the back. Red’s attention was drawn to the crowd on the other side of the doors as a hotel staffer moved between the two spaces, offering a glimpse of the group on the other side. “Know what I mean?” He was saying the words, but his interest was already somewhere else.
“Yes.” I said thinking back to the endless hot summer nights in my apartment in Ithaca—Tina in my arms as we shared the space of my bed. We were twenty-one and heading into our last year of college. I was usually broke, spending my monthly allowance the first week, but happy and full of momentum. It was a golden time where anything was possible and no one could tell me no—before I agreed to my taskmaster of a career.
“Why don’t you go out and shake some hands?” I asked, pulling my phone from my pocket to check my messages. “I’ll come out when it’s died down a little.”
Red hesitated before entering the room. “Okay, but King?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay away from the honeys out there,” he said under his breath, nodding his head to the crowd. “They’ll getcha every time.”
“Back atcha, boss.”
Finding my way down the back hallway littered with dirty dishes from the reception, the hotel staff was doing their best to keep with the frenetic pace of the party. I asked a security guard near the service elevator how to get to the lobby knowing Tina would be in the bar. The impatient type, she didn’t like to be kept waiting.
The daughter of a notorious Italian mobster, Tina Joseph was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and always went for it. Her family had been linked to lots of illegal activity, but somehow her dad had never been convicted of anything. He was a loving, devoted father—he just happened to be a mafia boss, too. Joe Joseph always liked me, and for that I was grateful.
Two corridors and a flight of stairs later, I emerged into the beautiful, old-world lobby with two things on my mind: which way do I turn and how the hell did Tina Joseph get a job working for BioGen?
“The bar?” I asked the perfectly tailored bellman laboring with a heavy suitcase.
“Yes, sir. The Livingston. Straight ahead.”
I strode through the onslaught of people making their way into the hotel for dinner and a weekend stay. Glancing at my watch, I noticed it was almost five and a Friday afternoon. Surely happy hour would be in full swing.
Turning the corner into the historic bar area, I recognized Tina at a table alone—legs crossed. Her earring caught the light of the setting sun and it seemed like a sign to me—a glimmer of hope in the darkness that beckoned me to her like a moth to an open flame. It was a familiar feeling, and it overcame me.
“Hey,” I said, weaving through the tables as she caught my stare.
Standing, she once again threw her arms around my neck and I found myself taking advantage of her unspoken permission to squeeze her tightly, bringing her stilettoed heels from the ground.
“King,” she whispered in my ear, cradling my head in her hands. Pressing her lips to the edge of my face, she whispered, “It’s so good to see you.”
“God, you’re beautiful, Tina. But you always were.”
Breaking our embrace, she took my hands in hers and looked into my eyes before sitting down. The brown leather chairs and white tables made the floor of the bar area seem like a big game of checkers and I had a sneaking suspicion from the way Tina greeted me, she had come to play games.
“What are you drinking?” I asked, taking detailed notes of the room in my mind and nodding to the nearest waiter.
“What do you think?”
“The lady and I will each have Maker’s on the rocks please, and she’ll have another glass of water with lemon.”
“You remembered.”
“You always did need the chaser,” I replied. “Lightweight.”
“Maybe I just love a good chase.”
I flashed Tina a smile and stroked her open hand only once and watched the hair on her arm stand at attention. It may have been a few years, but I still remembered her triggers. A soft brush of the skin turned Tina Joseph on and I enjoyed feeling her shudder under my fingers. “I remember,” I replied. “A gentleman never forgets.”
“You always were the consummate gentleman, King.”
“Southern gentleman,” I said holding up a finger in protest. Tina grew up in New York City and I knew one of the things she liked about me was what she called my Rhett Butler charms. For me, that merely meant using the manners God and my parents had seen fit to bestow upon me. To her it was a new way of being treated—like she was priceless. And she was. To me, all women were priceless. Equal in the world, but by far the superior sex. Yet some women wanted to be dominated, and I was more than willing to play the knight in shining armor to a consenting damsel in distress.
“Yes,” she said not breaking her gaze as she lifted the glass to her lips. “King, you are the perfect, tall dark and handsome man.” She looked me over from head to toe and I raised one eyebrow in her direction.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh that said more than words could. She was ripe for the picking—every man’s dream come true—a beautiful woman hot and bothered and nearly sitting on my lap.
“All that black hair and tan skin—your deep, rich voice, like dark chocolate. Not to mention the piercing blue eyes that hide the innocent boy—” she hesitated. “The innocent boy that used to rock my world, massage my body to ecstasy and feed me in bed.”
A few words out of Tina’s lipstick stained mouth and I knew it was now a toss-up as to who was the most hot and bothered.
“Now you just save lives—every day,” she said leaning into the table, showing off her ample cleavage in the tight, low cut dress that had caught my attention from the get-go. “You’re a regular modern day hero.”
“That was a mouthful,” I said regaining my composure.
“Well, I did graduate with a degree in journalism, even if I am making money peddling drugs these days. And as far as a mouthful, I think we both know what that entails—especially about each other.”
I gulped my bourbon. The warmth filled my body and I felt myself relax into the chair. “Well, just let me say I think you are a fine…eloquent…writer.”
“It’s easy to describe beautiful things.” She whispered the words and ran her tongue across her bottom lip, distracting me from the clamor in the bar.
“Maybe I should hire you to write my online dating profile,” I said, trying to laugh off the sexually charged energy around us.
“Come now, King,” she said with a sexy smile that made me think of my previously uncomplicated life and the way I used to hold her naked body in my arms. “Surely there’s a Mrs. Dr. King.”
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “No. I just haven’t found the right girl yet.”
“Really?”
“You seem surprised.” Tina was beautiful, but she was no dummy. I knew if she was sitting in the bar with me she’d done her homework and was aware of my bachelorhood, but I played along. I took another sip of my bourbon, loosening my tie and relaxing further into the seat. Unwinding the tension in my body, I spread my legs, giving Tina a better view of what I knew she wanted.
“You haven’t found the right girl, King because you keep finding another girl to play into your fantasy. Don’t act like I don’t know you—and by that I mean inside and out.” She rested the tip of her tongue on the corner of her mouth for only a moment before running it across her lips again. I concentrated on the shape of her sexy pout and my mind wandered back twelve years when Tina and I had been insatiable in the bedroom. There wasn’t anything we hadn’t done—nothing we weren’t willing to try at least once. I’d always considered it my sexual awakening, but I’d never said so, nor had I ever told her.
“You still giving the women in your life lace panties?”
“What?” I came out of my college fantasy and back to the bustle of people around us.
“You didn’t think I’d forget something like that. Did you?”
I smiled to myself, and wiped the perspiration from my glass with one finger as if I was performing a delicate procedure before looking her in the eye. I remembered. Of course I remembered.
“I still have them, you know.”
“What?”
“The white lace panties with your name on them.” She leaned into the table and beckoned me with a single finger to come closer. Resting my arms on my legs, I angled my body to meet her. “I’m wearing them right now,” she said as her eyes panned from our locked gaze to my zipper.
A shot of adrenaline raced through my core and I dropped my head to look at the floor and compose myself.
“Of course the crown and the word, King have faded a bit, but it’s all still there. Right on the—”
“Yeah, okay.” I lifted only my eyes to look at her. I was
a lot of things, but shy when discussing my sexual escapades wasn’t one of them.
“Are you embarrassed?” Tina settled back in her chair, obviously pleased with herself.
“No.” I spoke softly, deliberately allowing my mouth to wrap around the word as I eased back in my own seat. “If you know me so well, surely you know something like that isn’t going to embarrass me. Back then I did some of my best work with a black Sharpie.”
“I promise you, babe,” she said drinking the last drop of bourbon from her glass. “Your artistic skill with a black Sharpie was in no way your best work on me.”
I nodded. I was flattered to walk down memory lane with Tina, but the longer we strolled, the easier it was for me to remember why we’d taken different paths when we happened upon the fork in our road—the fork that changed my life forever. In the end, it was all about the sex for Tina and I wanted more. I wanted to be in an honest, committed relationship where Sunday afternoons could be filled with out-of-the-box love making, or simply two people in sweatpants watching football and eating leftover Chinese food from a paper box. Tina only wanted the sex. When she invited another man back to my apartment one drunken night hoping for a ménage, it was over—for me anyway. As far as I was concerned, there was only room for one dick in our relationship and it was mine. My life had become a new adventure back then—one I could only share with my wife. Tina wasn’t wife material.
“You want me to beg for it, King?” she asked coming to her feet.
I watched her long legs unfold and stood to meet her. I gazed into her eyes and thought back to all the moments we shared finding ourselves and shook my head no.
“Then what are we waiting for? I have a suite upstairs. I’d love to wrap myself around your big, beautiful…”
I tilted my head, hoping she was going to stop—and she did—but only to whisper the word in my ear. “Cock.”
