by Nova Rain
“Well, well, well…” she welcomed me with a wicked grin. “If it ain’t Fullerton’s sweetheart…?”
“Oh, shut up…” I moaned, hanging my coat on the back of my chair. “It’s not true and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do,” she chuckled. “I just have one question. Did you really inspire him to play the piano?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged and sat down across from her. “Catherine thinks so. You won’t believe how mad she got after that. She asked me if I wanted to steal him from her, for God’s sake.”
“Hmmm…” Rachel hummed, looking up at the ceiling as she tapped her index finger on her chin in mock skepticism. “Catherine is all excited and passionate about someone, and thinks she’s found her significant other. Why does that sound familiar?”
“Okay, she’s done it before, but…”
“Honey, don’t,” she interrupted, lowering her gaze to mine. “It’s not just something she’s done before. She always does that. Remind me of one of the losers she’s gone out with that she didn’t get excited about.”
“I can’t think of anyone, but this time, it’s different,” I pointed out, my voice dropping in volume. “Rach, she was on the verge of tears for someone who didn’t even know her name at the time. Although he does after last night.”
“How come?”
“He gave me his number, and I gave it to Catherine, because she got too upset by the whole song thing,” I informed, my tone calmer. “She set up a date with him, posing as me. Of course, Fullerton got mad and ditched her.”
“Did he?” Rachel’s brow popped up. “That’s interesting. Young rich men typically don’t miss the chance of going out with pretty ladies.”
“Apparently, he’s different,” I spoke my mind, settling my gaze on the full coffee pot in front of me. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Sure you can,” she said, steam rising from my mug as she poured coffee into it.
“I know you won’t like it; I know Catherine is going to hate me for this, but…” I faltered, my eyes shooting up to meet hers. “I’m interested in him.”
“Oh, shit…” Rachel whispered, palming her forehead. “Did you make your will yet?”
“What?” I snorted in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It will, when Catherine rips your head off,” my friend explained, her serious expression convincing me that she wasn’t joking. “And you’re interested in him all of a sudden? Where did that come from? I thought you didn’t like the guy.”
“Look, I was sorry for Catherine when he ditched her, but at the same time, I realized he’s dignified,” I spoke in a tighter voice, maintaining eye contact with her. “Forget his money. Forget the fact that he played the piano for me. He’s not your typical rich boy who bangs everything that moves. How often do you come across men with that kind of dignity?”
“They are a rare breed, but…” My friend drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t know, honey. Getting involved with him sounds like a lot of trouble. It could cost you Catherine.”
“I’m not going after him, Rachel,” I pointed out, shaking my head in disappointment. “There’s no point in that anyway. Not after what Catherine and I did to him tonight. It’ll be like: ‘Hey, remember me? I’m the one who passed you off to her friend, because she liked you and I didn’t.’ Would you date someone who’d treated you like that? Because I sure wouldn’t.”
“I’d still be careful if I were you,” Rachel spoke in a soft voice. “You’re right. He should be pissed at you, but don’t be surprised if he comes back. Just be ready in case he does.”
“There’s no way in hell he’s coming back,” I rejected that notion in a heartbeat. “I’m sure he’s got more important things to do than pursuing women who like to pull tricks on him.”
“You never know.” Rachel smiled, lifting her mug to her lips. For a moment, I considered reminding her what had transpired between Chris and me. Before long though, I had a change of heart. She had no need for a reminder, because we had just been over the matter. The way I saw it, dating Fullerton was an impossibility. If he was the kind of man I thought he was, the prospect of him and me having a relationship had already fled his mind. He was a busy man. He would rather spend his precious time with people he could actually rely on.
Chapter Four
Chris
The frustration that had been building up within didn’t go anywhere on Sunday morning. Catherine’s image outside that restaurant was the first thought that entered my mind. What a pathetic attempt to draw someone’s attention… What a stupid plan to have a date with someone you admire. Because she did admire me; that much was obvious. Yet, she had chosen to express that admiration the wrong way. After her confession, it was more likely for me to humiliate her in public than to buy her dinner. And I’d had every intention of humiliating her, but I just preferred telling her off. It wasn’t the cost of dinner that stopped me. Neither was it the fact that some of the customers could recognize me. I just couldn’t stand that doe-eyed brunette. She was looking at me with the excitement of a schoolgirl on her first ever date. It was like she was discovering a whole new world and was eager to explore it with me. What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t planning on dating anyone that smitten. My plan was to have dinner with her friend, and it went down the drain when I found Catherine waiting for me.
I liked to jog on Sundays, and this one was no exception. I loved to jog over the Brooklyn Bridge itself, because it offered fantastic, aerial glimpses of Manhattan and Brooklyn alike. Nonetheless, looking out the glass façade of my apartment forced me to reconsider. Trees in and around Central Park were bending in the wind. Even a big man like me would have difficulty standing upright on the bridge. If I fell, I would go down as the dumbest computer whiz in history.
So, I put on my gray sweats and headed out. Destination? Central Park. It was close, a lot safer and I would enjoy it more because traffic around it was thin.
Under a gloomy, dark sky, I stepped into the park. There was a hint of drizzle in the air, and gusts of wind rustling through the trees. I could feel the cold hitting me in the face with each stride. I had to sidestep around puddles, fearing the water would drench my feet. Neither fact bothered me. It was January; I was lucky it hadn’t been snowing, because icy conditions would render jogging impossible. One thing did annoy me, and it bore my name. I was mad at myself for letting Rosanna’s wonderful figure stay on my mind. It had been thirty-six hours since the one and only time I had laid eyes on her, but I just couldn’t get rid of that sexy image. A tight, navy-blue uniform with a white shirt underneath, a knee-length skirt and black pantyhose. The moment I saw her with that tray, I imagined knocking it out of her grasp and laying her down on a table.
To add to my frustration, my imagination picked up where it left off. I hitched up her skirt and ripped a hole in her pantyhose. Picturing myself going down on her was the last straw. In an instant, I sensed a burning sensation in my ears, and my dick protesting in my pants. I slowed right down and headed for an eastern redbud tree down the path and to the left.
“Damn you, you minx,” I gasped, leaning against its trunk, leafless branches hanging just over my head. Two sets of footsteps convinced me to keep any further comments to myself. As I looked back over my shoulder, it occurred to me that jogging in Central Park was a bad idea. Two women were heading in my direction, running parallel to one another. They were both about 5’6”, their hair neatly gathered in ponytails.
I wish I could push a button and disappear.
That thought was born in my brain as I discovered their identities. Rosanna and Catherine. Immediately, I whipped my head around, but it was too late. Catherine had already spotted me.
“What the hell is he doing here?” She groaned, keeping her gaze on me.
“You go ahead,” Rosanna suggested. “I’ll be with you in two minutes.”
“Don’t take too long,” Catherine urged, quickening her pace. I watched her figur
e pass me, her red tracksuit a shade darker in the dim daylight.
“I know it probably won’t make any difference, but I’m sorry,” Rosanna assumed a soft voice, stopping on my right. “I shouldn’t have…”
“If you really want to apologize to me, meet me back here in a couple of hours,” I requested, silencing her with a raised hand. “Get back to your friend.”
She gave me a puzzled glance at first, and then jogged away. She hadn’t covered more than ten yards, when she looked back at me. If she was any other girl, I would take this as a good sign. But Rosanna seemed anything but ordinary. And I was curious to find out if she meant her apology, or if she had apologized because we had just run into each other. To be honest, I didn’t trust much hope…
Chapter Five
Rosanna
I’d picked one hell of a day to take a non-jogger with me. Catherine hated jogging. She considered it a hardship, because “there’s a nice, warm place called a ‘gym,’ where you can meet interesting people, too.”
My first instinct was standing Chris up. We were strangers, weren’t we? I was just a waitress he had met at a fundraiser. He was a multi-millionaire, who could have pretty much any woman he liked. It didn’t have to be me. Still, two miles of jogging later, I decided to meet with him. That way, I would put an end to this silly little story. More than that, I would try and change his mind about dating Catherine. She wasn’t a bad girl by any means. She had just been too enthusiastic, as she had been in the past. And despite all the heartbreak she had endured, my friend refused to change her ways.
Wearing a purple cap to shield my ears from the cold, I returned to Central Park. Even when I found myself strolling down the same path I’d used that morning, a little voice inside told me to get out of there. I didn’t owe Fullerton an explanation. He could go ahead and call me a cold-hearted bitch for standing hip up. He wouldn’t be the first, and I doubted he would be the last person in this world to think lowly of me. However, I stuck to my original decision. There was no harm in seeing someone in the park. We would talk and then go our separate ways.
Chris was sitting on a bench across from the eastern redbud where I’d ran into him earlier. He was in a pair of faded jeans, a light-blue coat and a Yankees cap. I couldn’t tell which outfit he looked better in. Was it his sweats? This casual one? Or was it that fancy suit he had on the other day?
Focus, Rosanna. Screw what he’s wearing. You’re here for a more important reason than rating his looks and his outfits.
“I didn’t think you’d show up,” he said in a stiff voice, narrowing his eyes up at me.
“Well, you were wrong,” I murmured, seating myself beside him. “I’m sorry about last night, Chris. What I did to you, was stupid and dishonest. I had a very good reason, though.”
“Yeah, your friend,” he presumed, his tone loosening. “I can’t help but wonder what would happen if a couple of guys did this to a woman. Call me ‘crazy,’ but if she were given a chance to make this public, those poor bastards would be in for a major shit storm. Imagine the headlines. ‘Twenty-nine-year-old man passes girl off to his best bud.’ Feminists would call them all sorts of nasty names. You know what I’m talking about. Misogynist. Sexist. Pig. Blah, blah, blah. You should have been straight with me, Rosanna. Both of you should have.”
“In case you didn’t notice, we were working that night,” I claimed, my voice rising in intensity.
“That’s not an excuse,” he rebutted. “I was at that fundraiser for four hours. How long would it have taken for you to have a word with me? One minute? Two minutes?”
“Okay, you’re right,” I admitted with a nod. “That would have been an embarrassing conversation, but we should have had it. Although I believe Catherine should have talked to you first.”
“I don’t think so,” he disagreed, pursing his lips. “I gave my number to you, not her.”
“I know I’m not supposed to say this, but, um…” I paused. “She’s got a crush on you. We’re very close. It was only fair of me to step aside.”
“I really don’t know what to say about that,” he spoke in a low tone, averting his gaze from me. “I mean, it’s admirable and ridiculous at the same time. We’re not in junior high, Rosanna. You can’t just go: ‘Hey, my friend likes you more than I do, so, why don’t you go out with her instead?’ I’m guessing you know what happened last night. How did you think it was going to play out?”
“Not the way it did.” My response was sharp. “Again, I’m sorry. It’d mean a lot to me if you went out with Catherine. She’s a great girl, once you get to know her. She’s funny…”
Chris burst out laughing and leaned back. “Here we go again.”
“I’m serious,” I stated, not at all amused by his attitude. “Forget what’s happened between you two and ask her out. Give her a chance.”
“Why don’t you give me a chance?” He suggested, turning his head left to face me.
“You know, for a computer whiz, you’re not so smart, are you?” I wondered, my voice deeper with discomfort. “What part of ‘we’re very close’ don’t you understand? If I go out with you, it will mean the end of my friendship with Catherine. It’s as simple as that,” I continued, rising back up to my feet. “Have a nice day.”
At that, I turned on my heels and walked past him, frustrated by his persistence. I had mentioned my bond with Catherine, and yet, he chose to ignore me. Obviously, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—take “no” for an answer. He had been used to people satisfying his whims, because he was rich. But I was not going to do that. I wasn’t a pushover. He could ask me out a hundred times, and I would still turn him down. Not just out of respect for my friend, but out of self-respect, too. Chris was acting like a spoiled brat, and I never liked spoiled brats,
Chapter Six
Chris
She needs a hook.
That’s the conclusion I came to, after my discussion with Rosanna at the park. She was loyal to her friend. And, even though I admired that sort of loyalty, it also constituted my worst enemy. How in the world could I get around it? What was the one thing that would make Rosanna put aside her connection with Catherine? I didn’t have a clue.
There was something I could do.
I could hire a PI and learn everything about her in a matter of days. Some of the best professionals in the city could dig so deep that I would soon know the tiniest of details about her. Still, was that appropriate? The answer was simple: no. Rosanna wasn’t a competitor. She was someone I was trying to date. Furthermore, I had another problem. Even if she did agree to go out with me, knowing everything about her would kill the thrill of the unknown. There would be no magic. No anticipation. Our dates would be more like two old friends, catching up with each other. In other words, they would be okay for a short while, and become boring later.
Just before I left for work that Monday morning, I had a brainstorm. I stopped by the Ritz-Carlton and left a little something for Rosanna. She wasn’t going to take it well. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Yet, that gesture was just another way for me to see her again. Perhaps seeing my softer side would reveal to her that I wasn’t some prick who was trying to get into her pants. I needed more from her. If getting laid was my sole purpose, all I had to do was pick up the phone and throw a huge party. There were plenty of naïve girls who’d be glad to spend the night with me.
Hot tea dribbling down my throat, I checked my email. As usual, there were quite a few media invitations for an interview. CBS, NBC and a few online newspapers wanted me to share my story with their readers. I liked interviews, because I could get to show people that I was human, just like them. Sadly however, most mainstream media didn’t appreciate my attitude. They liked it better if I stuck to the business part of my life.
I clicked the email from “The Manhattan Citizen,” when I heard a commotion from outside. I recognized my secretary’s muffled voice, before my ears picked up a louder one, along with heavy footsteps on the carpet. I had
a feeling who this might be, but I focused my gaze on the golden doorknob anyway. Lo and behold, Rosanna stormed into my office, with Claire following right behind her.
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” Claire panted as the blonde strode across the room. “I asked her to wait, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“What the fuck is this?” Rosanna growled, showing me the check I’d left for her. “Are you trying to buy me off or something?”
“It’s okay, Claire. Leave us,” I told my secretary, my gaze on the angry waitress. “I was just trying to get your attention. It looks like I succeeded.”
“By leaving me a fifty thousand-dollar tip?” She squinted up at me. “Are you crazy? Or are you playing dumb again like you did yesterday?”
“If I wanted to play dumb, I’d tell you I didn’t know how much to tip,” I remarked, rising from my seat. Snatching the check from her grasp, I tore it to pieces. “There. Problem solved,” I added, tossing them behind me.
“Oh, God…” Rosanna sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. “You’re starting to get on my nerves, you know that? We can’t be together, Chris. When will you get that through your thick skull?”
“I’m trying,” I uttered in a calm voice, slipping my hand into my pocket.
“Well, try harder,” she demanded, an expression of anger dominating her face.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I went on, taking a step nearer as I felt the plastic of the remote control on my fingertips. The floor vibrated beneath our feet at the press of a button. In a moment, electric blinds blocked daylight, causing Rosanna to look around her in surprise. “Lights out.” The powerful light overhead was turned off at my command. I yanked the remote control out of my pocket and pointed it to the wall on my right. A small port slid up, revealing my stereo system, dozens of red and green lights flashing in the dark. “Give me this dance, and I’ll never bother you again.”