by Allison Parr
Sabeen smirked. “It sounded like you wanted to be a mistress.”
“A mistress,” Lucy mocked. “What does that even mean?”
I ignored their squabbling as we reached the top of the stairs. The bouncer, tall and broad, but with a wiriness that set him apart from the football players, shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. Private party.”
Right. Shoot. We should have brought Jensen along to vouch for us. “We’re meeting someone in there.”
He arched a brow. “Of course you are.”
Lucy pushed forward. “Yeah, but we really are.”
I caught sight of Dylan and waved an arm. “Hey! Dylan! Will you let us in?”
Dylan stared blankly for a moment like he couldn’t place me, and then he started laughing convulsively. “Damn, Abe’s in trouble.”
All over again I felt embarrassed about this ridiculous dress. Last time I tried to look sexy when I ended up in seeing work-related people. “Will you let us in?”
Dylan waved magnanimously at the bouncer, who seemed to be resisting an eye-roll or two. We skirted by him thankfully.
Several private rooms were up here, and we entered the loudest. My spidy-senses tingled, and I spotted Abe from the back. He stood at the bar, laughing with several of his teammates. I shouldn’t have cared about the three women around him who wore more revealing dresses than mine, but they rubbed me the wrong way instantly.
My brain started going into tunnel vision, but I vaguely remembered there was something else I was supposed to do. I turned to Dylan. “Introduce Lucy to Keith, will you?”
Dylan looked half-entertained and half-offended. “What, I’m not good enough?”
Lucy smirked, and I figured they were safe to take each other on. Though what about Sabeen? I glanced around and saw Garza close by, who looked shocked by my outfit, but nodded when I said, “This is my roommate Sabeen. Play nice.”
And then I walked slowly toward Abe.
I could tell the instant he saw me, because he went utterly still and an almost possessive desire darkened his eyes. He set his drink down carefully, like he was afraid of shattering it, and stepped away from the bar to meet me. He seemed robbed of words as he took in my bare expanse of skin.
I smiled. “Didn’t think I’d come, did you?”
He shook himself, and then shrugged off his sports jacket and swung it around my shoulders. “You’ll cause a train wreck.”
I should have been put out that he was trying to cover me up, but instead my smile broadened. “There are no trains.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
I didn’t drop his gaze. “No.”
He reached out and slid his hand around my neck. I leaned into it, and he smiled. His hand trailed down the line of my throat and his thumb swept my low neckline. My skin pebbled with goose bumps.
I pressed my hand to his chest to stop him. “Abe...”
“So?” He breathed the word against my neck. “Isn’t this why you came here?”
He was right. But I shouldn’t have. I should’ve known better. “Maybe I’m here to interview people.”
His hand fell to trace the high hemline of my dress, which cut across the upper portion of my thighs. “In this dress?”
“It’s possible,” I breathed.
He laughed, equally breathless. “Not on your life. If you just wanted to be friends, you wouldn’t have worn this dress.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you could just walk away right now, because we’re just friends, and I’m crossing the line.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I could, you know.”
He grinned, cocky and sure. “Go ahead and try it.”
I sucked in a breath—and turned and walked away.
But I could feel the thrill of leaving in the fine hairs that rose on the back of my neck, in the way the nerves in my feet tingled, in the butterflies of desire quickening in my belly. Even as I walked faster and deeper into the back rooms of the club, I could feel him following me, feel the chase that I shouldn’t be indulging in, shouldn’t have been creating.
I still couldn’t stop myself as I ducked into a dark, silent room, all black and red, muffled by velvet cushions and drapes. Surely a thousand clandestine affairs had occurred here, a thousand dalliances begun and hearts broken. I stopped on the far side of the room, breathing hard, waiting with the anticipation.
When the door snapped closed I turned, heart in my eyes, hot and wild as the man striding across the room toward me. He pushed me up against the wall, and we were kissing, tangled in each other, his tongue parting my lips with exquisite skill until I was moaning under his ministrations. There was nothing anymore, just him and me, the sensation of tongues and lips and sliding hands. His hand pushed my dress up around my hip and curved down around my ass. It slid up to the inside of my leg, and toyed with the thin cloth.
I groaned and then caught his hands and held them between us. What was I doing here? I should be home, alone, not diving back into this. What happened to getting over Abraham? I was apparently a sucker for failure. “I shouldn’t.”
He gauged my mood carefully, and then nodded and held out his hand. “We could dance.”
And, fool that I was, I placed my hand in his. “What a gentleman.”
He bent his head close to my ear as he walked me out to the club floor. “Guess again.”
The last time I’d danced with Abe had been at my prom, and even as raunchy teenagers, we’d behaved relatively innocently. I mean, I’d been raunchy, who knew if Abe had. But there was no innocence here, no air between our bodies as we fit together and swayed to the pounding of the music, a thrum that seemed to imitate my heart. He was warm muscle and soft musk and soap, and his eyes and smile could light the Arctic on fire. I craned my head up toward him, my arms hooked around his neck. “Do you remember my prom?”
He let out a groan and I could feel it reverberate through his chest. I could feel everything about him: the hard, strong lines of his thighs against the back of mine; the largeness of his hands as they slid across my waist; and how very, very much he wanted to be dancing. “God, yes.”
I smiled. “Why such a sound?”
“You were killing me.”
I twisted around so we were face-to-face—or as much as we could be, with him so much taller than me. “I was killing you?” I aimed for indignant but landed somewhere between thrilled and smug. “Why?”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to lust after you.”
I drew back. “You lusted after me? Never.”
He pulled me forward so I could feel how very not never that lust was. I felt hot and wild between my legs, and my muscles clenched with absolute desire. My breath came fast, and I was sure my eyes must be dilated, as his were. His voice came out husky and low. “I wanted to take you out of there and keep you in bed until morning.”
I couldn’t keep the smile from my face—or my body from pressing forward. I felt heady and delighted. “You did not. You didn’t like me at all.”
“I didn’t think I did. Which made it incredibly confusing when I didn’t want to keep my hands off you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He mock-frowned. “About wanting the daughter of my mom’s best friend? Are you kidding me? You were off-limits.”
I rested my head against his chest. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It made all the sense. I wasn’t ready for you.”
What did that mean? I lifted my head to ask, but his lips found mine instead.
Minutes, hours later, I reluctantly pulled away. “I should go. I have work in the morning.”
“Take it off.”
“I can’t. I have stories due. Stories I haven’t even written yet.”
“Dinner tomorrow?”
I made a face. “I can’t. Everyone’s staying late at the office to wrap the magazine. We’re making a night of it.”
He sighed. “Then we’re o
ut of luck. We’re playing a Friday game this week, and since it’s in Oakland we’re leaving a few days early so we can adjust to the time zone.”
I sighed, too. “It’s probably a good thing. I can remember we’re just friends.”
He laughed and kissed my neck, sending shivers all through me. “You’ll never remember that, because it’s not true.”
A very loud part of my brain insisted he was right, but I still managed to untangle myself. “I’ll see you when you’re back, then.”
He pulled me back to him and pressed a sweet, melting kiss on my lips. His eyes danced when I stepped back, somewhat dazed. “For luck.”
“For luck,” I murmured. “And good night.”
Chapter Fourteen
On Wednesday morning, I’d barely walked in before Tanya popped her head out of her office and said, “Rosenfeld. In here.”
I glanced at the boys. “You told.”
Mduduzi had the grace to look guilty, while Jin just wore his normal slouchy expression. I shook my head at them and entered our boss’s office.
She looked up at me from behind her messy desk, covered in mountains and tumbleweeds of paper, and crowned by a laptop and a separate monitor. She stared above it at me in disbelief. “You know Abe Krasner.”
I felt like a recalcitrant schoolchild, and could barely keep my hands from lacing together before me. My shoulders straightened. “Yes, ma’am.”
She pinned me with the same gaze she used to interrogate sources. Though I supposed she wouldn’t call it interrogation. “And you didn’t think that was a pertinent piece of information?”
Not really. “I wouldn’t want you to have hired me based on my connections, especially when I don’t intend to exploit them.”
The disbelief in her expression didn’t dissipate. “Rosenfeld. Do you know anything about the reputation of sports media in the past twenty years?”
I didn’t bristle, but it was a close call. I nodded instead.
“And do you know how people phrase the relationship sports writers often have with sports teams?” She leaned forward, her hands clasped before her. “They say we’re in bed with the teams.”
I flushed hot all over. “I’m not sleeping with Abe!”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You’re a young, attractive woman—”
“We’re childhood friends!”
She let loose a sigh of disgust. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. You took this job to report on a childhood friend? In what world did you think you were going to be objective?”
“But I am!”
She leaned back and shook her head. “I should fire you for this, you know.”
“You can’t fire me for having a friend,” I argued, even though I had no idea whether she could or couldn’t. “That’s discrimination against...friendship.”
She waved a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to use you.”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better.
* * *
At home Lucy had set about planning the dinner party with verve. “So it’s going to be in like two weeks, on the tenth. At least three of my friends are coming,” she told me, after I arrived home after my exhausting interview with Tanya. Lucy stood in the kitchen, making some strange tea. “Two of them are single guys—Hey, are you okay? You look even whiter than usual.”
I dropped my purse on the floor and leaned against the counter as I poured a glass of water. “Weird day at work.” Tanya hadn’t said how she planned to use me, but now I thought I knew what an ace in the back pocket might feel like—sat upon and suffocated.
“Weird good or weird bad?”
“Weird—weird, I guess. Bad? Odd, definitely.”
She looked at me strangely. “You’re definitely acting odd.”
* * *
The next day at work, our building threw us a tenant appreciation party. “So what is this?” I asked the guys as we took the elevator down. “Like they feed us?”
They all looked at each other and shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Last year there was a performing monkey,” Carlos said.
Jin frowned. “I don’t remember a monkey.”
“You were in Philly,” Carlos said. “There was a monkey. It wore a hat.”
“Is that legal?” I asked.
Mduduzi cocked his head. “For monkeys to wear hats?”
“No, for—for monkeys to perform.”
Jin gave one of his lackadaisical shrugs. “We perform constantly.”
“Ha, ha.” Carlos rolled his eyes.
We sat at a round table, eating our lukewarm burgers and soggy fries and contemplating the other magazines. Mduduzi nodded at a girl who walked by, pulling off a skirt and heels that I never could have. “That one. I was in an elevator with her, and she asked me where I worked, and when I said ST she raised her brows and said ‘Oh.’”
He managed to infuse the word with enough disdain that I bristled and narrowed my eyes at the girl, but when I turned back to my friends I noticed that Carlos had deflated slightly.
Interesting.
I was considering a Romeo and Juliet situation of epic proportions (Sports journalism, ha! I should be writing for National Enquirer) when my phone went off. I stilled, hope and fear and anticipation flooding me. What if it was Abe? What if it wasn’t Abe? It probably wasn’t; it was the night before a game for him, so he was locked away at some hotel, going over strategies. Paying very close attention to the coaches, I was sure, and not texting me.
I picked up the phone with trembling fingers, and all the nerves whooshed away, washed out by my happiness. Abe.
I’m taking you out on a real date this weekend.
I raised my brows and bit down on my grin. You forgot the question mark.
He responded almost immediately. Didn’t. It’s happening. Otherwise you’re in huge trouble.
I stared at the words, which tingled across my emotions like a mesmerizing spell.
“Tamar?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, and then looked up to see Jin and Mduduzi regarding me quizzically. “You okay, Tamar?” Mduduzi asked.
I nodded. “Oh. Yeah.”
Jin swiveled slowly toward me. “Who texted?”
My eyes widened. “An, um, old...friend.”
The guys exchanged a glance. Mduduzi smiled at me, but like he was including me on the joke. “A friend like Abe Krasner?”
I dropped my head into my hands and groaned.
“So, what is this?” Jin made one of his vague hand motions, but appeared more invested in the conversation than I’d seen him since the last time we tore apart a game. I guessed he was just as interested in relationship issues as he was in sports. I wondered what he thought about Carlos and Attitude Girl. “You two.”
“I don’t really know.”
“Well, is it...serious?”
I had a story, and I was sticking to it. “We’re old friends.”
Everyone sat there silently for a moment.
“Fuck it.” Carlos looked me straight in the eye. “Are you guys—?”
“No!” I shook my head rapidly. “God. Guys. Wow, let’s not be talking about this.”
Mduduzi leaned over to try to see my phone. “What’d he say?”
I clicked it dark immediately. “Nothing.” When they didn’t buy that, I relented. “He wants to hang out.”
“And? What did you say?”
I looked down at my message, and then typed I suppose I’ll be free on Sunday and clicked send. “I said yes.”
* * *
Abe and I walked down the quiet streets west of Broadway, the main drag through Astoria. When my grandparents lived here, it had been mostly Eastern European Jewish immigrants, but now the restaurants and bakeries lining our walk slanted Greek and Polish. We paused to buy honey-soaked baklava before continuing on to the address I’d scribbled on the back of a grocery receipt.
When Abe had asked me what I wanted to do on Sunday, I’d immediately told him
I wanted to go see my grandparents’ old apartment. It had been sitting in the back of my head for a few weeks now, but I didn’t have the guts to go by myself. I wasn’t sure why not; perhaps I was afraid it would be a letdown, to just stare at a building, and I wanted someone there to pick me up.
I’d half-expected Abe to tell me that wasn’t a real date, but he agreed instantly. It wasn’t a date, really, but I wanted him there. I wanted my best friend.
It took a minute to locate the exact building. The numbers didn’t work in an orderly fashion, but skipped by twos and tens sometimes ate up whole dozens. Finally, my eyes landed on 712B.
I stood back to take it in. It looked much like all the other buildings on the street: small, brown and cramped. A small Laundromat filled the ground floor, and I wondered if it had been there when my grandparents had. Probably not.
Abe stopped beside me, tilting his head up. “So this is it?”
“Yeah.” I peered up at the third-floor windows and pointed my finger. “That’s where they lived.”
We stared up at the dark glass. I tried to imagine my grandparents peeking back out at us. They’d been younger than I was when they moved here—twenty-one and twenty-two. “What a strange life.”
He nodded. “Want to see if we can go inside?”
I glanced at the door. “Not really. I just wanted to...ground the stories. It’s weird how by the time they were our age... They were just kids, you know?”
He took my hand. “I know.”
“I’d like to go to Wroclaw. Though that sounds silly—what would I do, stare at the building where the chocolate shop used to be? That would take ten seconds.”
He shook his head. “It makes sense.” He hesitated, and then said with sweetness and sincerity, “I’d go with you.”
I squeezed his hand. “I’d like that.” Another beat of silence passed. “When I was little, I used to think their whole story was so romantic. Love. War. Paris and New York. But it’s not romantic or glamorous. It’s just sad.”
Abe nodded. His dad’s parents and Abe’s maternal grandfather had all grown up in California, from families that had lived there since the early 1900s. But his mom’s mom, Grandma Lewinski, had only come over after the war. She’d been an orphaned teenager, and had been separated from her sister and brother as they were all sent to live with distant relatives all over the country. She didn’t speak English and didn’t know the people she lived with, and there was nothing romantic about that. “I know.”
