by J. J. Murray
“Who’s Lily Allen, and what did she do?” Patrick asked.
“Lily Allen is the girl who sang ‘Smile,’ ” Lauren said.
“Okay,” Patrick said. “And?”
“You’ve never heard of Lily Allen?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “What’d she do?”
“She punched out a photographer in London and got arrested,” Lauren said.
“I won’t do that,” Patrick said. “I just don’t want to say anything that might embarrass you.”
“After all you’ve said and typed to me, man,” Lauren said, “I don’t think you could ever embarrass me.”
Patrick shouldered his way through the first row of photographers, Lauren gripping his hand.
“Where are you headed, Lauren?” a photographer asked.
“State Street,” Patrick said.
The photographer ignored him. “Where are you going, Lauren?”
“Like he said,” Lauren said. “State Street.”
Another photographer jumped in front of them, snapping away. “What’s on State Street?”
“My apartment,” Patrick said.
The photographer stepped in front of Lauren. “What’s on State Street, Lauren?”
“He just told you,” Lauren said. “My fiancé’s apartment. Are you deaf?”
As snowflakes clung to her coat and windblown snow hit her cheeks, Lauren watched as other photographers raced ahead of them and kicked up snow.
“Did Chazz freeze your bank account?” someone yelled.
What? Lauren stopped, pulling Patrick close. “Who asked that?”
A man with a notepad stepped forward. “I did. Is it true?”
“Why would you ask such a question?” Lauren asked.
“Well, we heard you had to take a bus from St. Louis,” the man said.
“All flights were canceled out of St. Louis because of the snow,” Lauren said. “You do see the snow, don’t you?”
The man only blinked.
Idiot. “We wanted to get home, so we took the bus,” Lauren said. “It was the only safe way to get here.”
“So Chazz didn’t freeze your money,” the man said.
“No,” Lauren said.
“Why didn’t you wait a few days to fly in?” the man asked.
“I have to work,” Patrick said. “Do you mind?”
The man stepped aside.
They continued up Schermerhorn and took a left on Hoyt.
Another reporter, this one wearing a ridiculous yellow rain slicker, cut in front of them. “Why do you have to work, buddy? She’s Lauren Short.”
Patrick guided Lauren around him.
“You won’t ever have to work again, buddy,” the man said behind them. “She’s your sugar mama.”
Patrick stopped and turned around. “I am not your buddy, she will be my wife, and work is what I do.”
That was a great answer, Lauren thought. I liked how the veins in Patrick’s neck bulged out. This man has fire, and I will need all his fire to warm me up when we get to his—I mean, our—apartment.
“Sorry,” Patrick whispered to Lauren.
“Don’t be,” Lauren said. “How much farther?”
“A couple blocks,” Patrick said.
They continued down Hoyt and turned east onto State Street.
“Why were you in St. Louis?” another reporter asked.
Lauren smiled. “We were on our first date.”
“Why’d you go to St. Louis for your first date?” yet another reporter asked.
“So we could avoid talking to people like you,” Patrick said.
He beat me to it! “And to get engaged,” Lauren said. She flashed her ring, and a snowflake nearly drowned it.
“But, Lauren, you got engaged after only one date!” a reporter shouted.
Lauren didn’t turn to face the reporter. “It was the best date in the history of all dates. It was the perfect date.”
“Where’d he get the ring?” a voice asked.
“He is walking right beside me,” Lauren said.
“Where’d you get the ring?” asked a reporter with a high-pitched voice. “What’s it made out of? How many carats?”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s platinum, zero point four carats, it’s an antique, and I got it at Gem Pawnbrokers, the one off Flatbush.”
Really? Lauren thought. Wow. I have a one-of-a-kind ring then. It’s as unique as the man who bought it.
“Sure thing, buddy,” the annoying reporter said. “What have we seen you in?”
“Coveralls,” Patrick said.
Patrick is good at this! Lauren thought. I can’t wait to see him in coveralls. I really can’t wait to see him out of them.
“What movies, wise guy?” the annoying reporter asked.
Patrick slowed to a stop. He faced the cameras. “I’m not an actor or a wise guy. I work for a living.”
“Doing what?” a reporter asked.
“I do buildings maintenance,” Patrick said.
“He’s a handyman!” a photographer shouted.
Patrick nodded. “Right. I work for a living.”
A female reporter scurried up to Lauren. “How did you two meet?”
“We met online,” Lauren said. “A little over a week ago.”
The reporter smiled. “A week? So this is a whirlwind romance.”
Lauren looked at the snow swirling above their heads. “You could say that. It’s a whirling snowstorm romance. A blizzard romance.”
The reporter put her entire face in front of Lauren’s. “Does Chazz know?”
This woman could have another career as a flight attendant. “Why would I care what Chazz knows or doesn’t know? If he wants to know, he can watch Patrick proposing to me on YouTube.”
“Isn’t this relationship kind of sudden?” she asked.
“This relationship was twenty years in the making,” Patrick said.
The reporters and photographers seemed to freeze.
My man is good at shutting people up! Lauren thought. I should let him speak for me. I think I will.
The annoying reporter stepped closer to Patrick. “So you were seeing Lauren behind Chazz Jackson’s back?”
Patrick stared him down. “We’ve known each other seven days. Do the math.”
He keeps beating me to it! Lauren thought. I love Brooklyn men. They’re so direct.
“But you just said something about twenty years!” the annoying reporter screeched.
“I have had a crush on Lauren for twenty years,” Patrick said. “I only recently fell in love with her.”
“Lauren,” the female reporter said, “what do you think Chazz will think about all this?”
“Chazz thinks?” Lauren laughed. “That’s news to me.”
The annoying reporter rolled his eyes and flipped through his notepad. “So, Lauren, did you quit Gray Areas because of this guy?”
How’d that news get out there already? Oh, it doesn’t matter now. “This guy has a name,” Lauren said, “and it’s Patrick Alan Esposito, and no, I didn’t quit because of Patrick. I quit because I didn’t want to be on the show.” She kissed Patrick’s cheek, and the cameras clicked rapidly. “I took a much better offer.”
“What are you working on next?” the female reporter asked.
A baby! “Getting married.”
“No,” she said. “I meant, what projects will you be working on next?”
“I won’t,” Lauren said. “I can think of no greater role than that of a wife and mother.” And I will be acting up a storm with Patrick in a few moments. Why aren’t we there yet?
“When are you getting married?” several reporters shouted.
“Soon,” Lauren said.
Patrick motioned to a set of brown stairs leading into a brick apartment building. “We’re here.”
Finally! Lauren gripped the stair rail, and Patrick followed behind. Once inside the building, Lauren hugged Patrick fiercely.
“You were fan
tastic,” she said. “You handled them perfectly.”
“I almost cursed out that goofy guy with the stupid voice,” Patrick said.
“He was a jerk.” She opened the door and stuck out her head. She pointed at the skinny, annoying reporter. “You, yes, you. Come here.”
The reporter slipped up the stairs. “So, when exactly are you getting married, Lauren?” He readied his pen.
“I already told you,” Lauren said. “I just wanted you to know that you’re a jerk, and you can quote me on that. Make sure you spell your own name correctly.” She shut the door and laughed. She looked up another set of stairs. “How much of a climb?”
“We’re on the second floor,” Patrick said. “Now please understand. I haven’t cleaned it up. I didn’t expect you to follow me all the way to Brooklyn.”
They started up the stairs.
“So I surprised you, huh?” Lauren said.
“You constantly surprise me,” Patrick said. “I’m worried you’ll think less of me when you see how I live.”
“I can only think more of you.”
Patrick stopped in front of 2B. “Be careful when you step inside.” He opened the door. “The back wall appears in a hurry. You kind of have to step in and make a quick left turn.”
He’s kidding, right?
Lauren stepped inside.
He wasn’t kidding.
She made a sharp left, walked through a skinny hallway, and entered a room with a couch, a coffee table, and a TV. From where she stood, she could see a bigger kitchen than the one in LA, a small bedroom through some glass doors, and a very nice bathroom.
And it’s so clean!
Mainly because it’s empty.
The first thing we need to do is get some light in here. We’ll need some lamps. And some throw rugs. And some throw blankets. And something on these bare walls. His apartment is like a blank canvas, and I am going to add some color.
“It’s about what I expected,” Lauren said. “I like your bathroom. It has two sinks.” She took off her coat. “It’s cozy.”
“It’s tiny,” Patrick said, setting down her luggage in the kitchen.
“It’s your home,” Lauren said. “And now it’s my home.” She hugged him and held him tightly.
And with a little work, it will be our home.
52
She’s just being nice, Patrick thought. She can’t like this place. Even I don’t like this place that much.
He led her into the bedroom, lifted the window shade a few inches, crouched, and looked out. And they’re still out there? Why? He saw film cameras, lights, and several news trucks, one truck blocking most of the sidewalk. “It looks as if all the networks are here. Don’t they see this blizzard around them?”
Lauren sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her shirt out of her pants. “Should we give them a show? I like performing in front of windows for some reason.” She laughed, then frowned. “No. I just started talking to my mama again. If the world saw us in the window, she wouldn’t talk to me ever again.”
Patrick pulled down the shade. “Is it always going to be this way?”
“They’ll get cold and bored and go home soon,” Lauren said.
Patrick sat beside her. “I meant, will they harass us whenever we go out?”
She rubbed his leg. “They might, and if they do, I know you’ll take care of me like you already have. It is so much easier to deal with those idiots if you have help. We make a good team.”
Patrick moved her onto his lap, then wrapped her legs around him. “If they weren’t there, would you want to perform in front of the window?”
“You know I would,” she whispered. “When we were in the window in St. Louis, I had my all-time best orgasm. Just the thought of us doing it for millions of people to see makes me hot.” She started unbuttoning her shirt. “I’m getting hot just thinking about it.”
“We need a shower,” Patrick said.
“Yes, we do.”
Patrick frowned. “It’s a stand-up shower, no tub. It will be a tight squeeze for us.”
Lauren’s hands traveled to Patrick’s crotch. “There definitely won’t be enough room in there for both of us because of this thing.”
“Do you mind showering alone?” Patrick asked.
“No,” Lauren said. “I may use up all your hot water, though.”
“Go ahead and try,” Patrick said. “I installed a hundred-gallon Bradford White hot water heater in this building a year ago, and I’ve never gotten a single complaint.”
“I assume a Bradford White means something,” Lauren said.
“It’s the best water heater you can buy,” Patrick said.
“Salthead only gave me a thousand toward a new one for this building. I made up the difference.”
“Do the other tenants know you did this?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “And I didn’t do it for them. I take some seriously long hot showers at the end of the day.” He winced. “Because I need to.”
“Will you watch me take my shower?” Lauren asked.
“I will watch you do anything.”
Patrick had to wipe steam away from the shower door every few seconds so he could see Lauren soaping up her body. He listened to her moans, sighs, and panting for several minutes until he could stand it no longer. He took off his clothes, opened the door, edged inside, and closed the door.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for very long,” Lauren whispered, dripping her soapy washcloth across his chest. She pulled his erect penis down and ground on it between her legs. “Are these glass walls sturdy?”
Patrick nodded. I hope so.
“Lift me up.”
He lifted her until she could grip the metal strips at the top of the glass walls.
“Stay still,” she whispered. “Let me do the work.”
Lauren lifted and lowered herself while Patrick soaped the rest of her. He watched his penis appear and disappear inside her. He felt the smoothness of her legs and pubis, watched the undulation of her stomach, heard her sighs increasing until she let out a delicious moan.
“Damn, man, why aren’t you coming?”
“If I do,” Patrick said, “I’ll thrust you out of this shower and into the apartment upstairs.”
Lauren lowered herself fully onto his penis, grasping him around the neck. “I’ve got all of you inside me.” She smiled. “You feel that?”
Patrick nodded.
“I’m giving you a hand job without using my hands,” Lauren said, stretching her neck away from him. “Are you going to come when I come?”
Patrick nodded, using his thumbs to rub on her clitoris.
“That’s good. That’s good. Oh yes!”
Patrick came when she shouted, nearly slipping and pitching her into the tile wall. “We need a bigger shower.”
Lauren bit her lip and nodded. “We need a tub built for two.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
“Yes.”
After drying off and applying half a bottle of lotion, Lauren walked naked into the bedroom.
I am so glad I only have one window, Patrick thought. She can walk around here like that all the time.
Lauren peeked through the shade. “Are they crazy? You’d think the blizzard would be more important news.” She sat on the windowsill, dangling her legs. “I want to get loud with you, and I don’t care if they hear us.”
This woman is trouble, Patrick thought. I am beginning to love trouble.
She spread her legs slightly. “We’re going to do a love scene. A bad love scene.”
Patrick moved in front of her. “How bad?”
“Really bad. I’ll start.” She licked her lips. “Bring your man meat over here.”
“Oh, that kind of bad.” He stroked his penis. “You gonna straighten it for me?”
Lauren laughed. “I said bad, not porno. We’re going for an R rating.”
“Oh, sorry,” Patrick said. “Um, you come here, woman. Give me
some good lovin’.”
Lauren smiled. “Better.” She widened her legs more and put her thumb in her mouth. “You got what I need?”
That’s a sexy pose. “I got what you need.”
She took her thumb out of her mouth and rubbed her right nipple. “You got it goin’ on?”
That’s an even sexier pose. “I got it goin’ on.”
She squeezed both breasts. “You gonna do me all night long?”
“I’m gonna do it to you until the cows come home,” Patrick said.
Lauren stood. “Are there any cows in Brooklyn?”
Patrick shook his head.
Lauren put her hands on his face, then slid them down his body. “So they aren’t ever going to come home, and that means . . . you gonna do me till sunrise.” She squeezed his penis.
“I’m gonna do you till I have to go to work,” Patrick whispered.
Lauren stroked him. “You gonna work me.”
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I’m gonna work that thang.”
Lauren let go, slid off the windowsill, and fell onto the bed. “That thang? Really?”
“I don’t watch many movies like this,” Patrick said.
“You were doing fine,” Lauren said. She held out her arms. “Come make love to me.”
Patrick dropped to his knees and kissed her thighs. “With or without dialogue.”
“Just whisper. . . .”
Patrick kissed her clitoris. “Give me some good lovin’. . . .”
Lauren closed her eyes. “Don’t give me your man meat till you’re through down there. . . .”
As wet as she is, it won’t be long....
53
Lauren woke in complete darkness to a buzzing sound. She turned from Patrick’s chest and looked at the windowsill where a cell phone vibrated in its charger.
“Patrick, your phone,” she whispered.
Patrick stirred. The buzzing stopped. Patrick kissed the back of her neck and slipped out of the bed. Lauren saw only his shape as he picked up the phone, pressed a few buttons, and listened. For a long time.
“Who’s calling at this hour?” Lauren asked, rolling over onto a warmer spot.
“Tenants,” Patrick said.
“But it’s Sunday,” Lauren said. “And it’s dark!”
Patrick sighed. “I rarely get a full weekend off.”
