The NYCE Girls!
Page 68
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said.
“Right, well…I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”
“Do you want to have lunch? Or, can I come over after work?”
“I really have to get my feature done, so maybe tomorrow we can have dinner.”
“Okay, yeah, tomorrow then,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Anthony
The last thing I expected when I walked into Fitzwales’ dressing room was for him to ask me about what I was writing, much less that he would critique it.
“I just think it could be better if you asked more about the musical,” he said.
“All I need is a confirmation from you that, you are in fact in the Common Templars,” I said. Jonathan leaned against his vanity counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a button-down shirt tucked into his tight blue pants. The shirt bulged around his chest and arms. Did he want people to think that he was buffer than he actually was? Another thought occurred to me—was that how he went to the interview with Beth?
“Yes, I am. I care about their mission,” he said resolutely. “Anything else?”
“Is your dedication to underprivileged kids in particular, part of why some of your earliest roles centered around orphans?” Fitzwales pressed his lips together as if he didn’t want to say. His eyes drifted up, as he thought about it for what felt like two minutes. “Yes,” he said, not offering anything else.
“Alright then, thanks for your time,” I said, and extended my hand. He shook it once then gestured towards the door.
“I look forward to reading your story and Beth’s. Though…I must say, I’m skewed towards hers. I hope she does better,” he said, grinning as if that was a completely normal thing to say. The fucking ass, he probably has a crush on Beth.
“Thanks, I guess. Catch you around, Fitzwales.” I stepped out of the dressing room and rolled my eyes when the door shut behind me. I hurried back to work and finished my feature. I even wrote a special note at the end and sent it in to my editor. It felt good to finally have it over and done with, but the relief didn’t last long, because my guilt about the fact that Beth was rewriting her piece weighed on me. Despite the fact that she’d told me that we would do dinner the next day, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
When I got home, I cooked seafood pasta, baked some garlic bread, prepped a salad and grabbed a bottle of white wine that I knew Beth loved. I packed everything into a couple of paper bags, then grabbed a can of tuna for Huevos and headed out. I had no expectations. I mean, if Beth slammed the door in my face, then I’d at least leave her the food. I sighed, shaking my head. “Pathetic…” But whatever, we’d be on good terms again soon, and then I wouldn’t have to pine for her so much. I hoped so, anyway.
When I got to her building and buzzed her apartment, she didn’t answer at first. It took a few tries and couple of minutes before she answered the intercom. “Yes?”
“It’s me. I made dinner,” I said, as I braced against the cold wind and snow fall.
“I’m sure we said tomorrow, Anthony?”
Beth sounded confused, but she buzzed me in anyway. She was waiting in the doorway, and she smirked when she saw the food in my hands, but she welcomed me in with a sweeping gesture. She was in her pajamas, wearing short shorts and a tank top underneath an oversized sweater.
“I had to say thank you, Beth. So, I made dinner.” I walked to the kitchen and put everything on the counter. “And I brought Huevos some tuna.”
“That’s nice of you,” she said and stepped beside me to peek into the bag. “It smells good.” She glanced up at me for the briefest second. Her eyes were red, almost blood shot.
“How long have you been staring at the computer?” I stopped unpacking the food and held her chin, searching her eyes.
“A while…” Beth said. “I just got done re-writing, and my editor is sending me revision notes in the morning.” She turned her head, and I let my hand drop. She helped me unpack the bags and warm everything up—other than the salad. I gave Huevos his tuna, washed my hands, and then joined Beth at the table.
“Do you feel good about the feature now?” I asked, hesitantly. Beth swallowed and nodded. She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. I guessed she didn’t want to talk about it.
“I went out with Naomi the other night,” Beth said. “I don’t know if she told you.” She forked up some pasta and took a bite. Naomi hadn’t told me anything about that. In a weird way, I felt jealous. While Beth was mad at me, Naomi got to hang out with her.
“What did you talk about?”
Beth smiled, amused at my tone, apparently. Whatever… I was going to give Naomi an ear full if she went and talked shit about me.
“She told me that you didn’t set out to betray me at all. Basically, she wants me to give you a chance.” Beth searched my eyes, and I put my fork down.
“Give us a chance, you mean? I won’t keep anything from you again, nor will I lie to you. There’s no reason for me to lie to you,” I said. Beth nodded, her expression was open and a lot more receptive than a couple of days ago, thankfully. “Truce?” I leaned towards her, and my eyes drifted down to her plump lips.
“Yeah, truce,” she said. I let my forehead touch hers before our lips met. I forgot all about food then. It was like my brain re-routed to focus only on Beth, and all I could smell was the perfumed scent of her shampoo and coconut-flavored lotion.
“Can we finish eating later?” I said. My hand already slid underneath her sweater and tank top to the soft skin of her back.
“Ah…good question,” Beth whispered. I turned her chair and then picked her up. Her lips moved with mine, and she pushed her fingers into my hair, holding me as close as possible. It felt good to know that she missed this as much as I did. I made it to the couch and sat down with her across my lap. I tilted her back against the throw pillows and wrapped her legs around my hips. My cock strained against my jeans, and my body flushed with heat. I pulled her shorts off, pleased to find that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Her pussy lips glistened with moisture already.
I sighed. “Fuck, yes…” I settled my shoulders between her thighs. She propped herself up on her elbows to watch. I ran my thumb around her clit and felt her thighs tense. She moaned softly when I trailed my finger to her opening and pushed inside. I fingered her slowly, watching as her eyes became unfocused, and her breathing got ragged. I sucked on her clit, nibbled gently on it, then flicked my tongue against it. Beth’s head fell back, and her hips squirmed as she tried to keep still. I put more pressure on her clit with my tongue, and she moaned with a shudder. She was soaking wet and delicious. Though my cock was throbbing at that point, I could make a meal out of her forever.
“Take off your pants,” Beth said. She looked at me with an urgency, panting and smoldering—a look I knew all too well. Quickly, I unbuckled my pants and kicked them off. I didn’t have time to deal with my boxers. I simply pulled them down enough to free my cock. I sank between her legs and slowly pushed into her warm, silky heat.
Beth moaned. “Oh, god …” Her tight pussy quivered around my cock. I had to keep still or risk coming too quickly. “Please, baby,” she said. Her hands gripped my sides. I pressed my forehead to hers and started to move. At first, I took it slow, inching my way deeper into her with each thrust. Her hips moved with mine, as she sped up the tempo. Her pussy had my cock in the tightest grip. Pleasure radiated through my pelvis and made the rest of my body feel weak. My balls had already drawn up, and I was close to coming, but I wanted her to orgasm first.
I pulled out of her, to Beth’s dismayed moan, and slid two fingers into her pussy. I thrust my fingers against her g-spot and Beth’s back arched. She cried out, and her body shuddered as the orgasm broke through. I replaced my fingers with my cock inside her and slammed into her hard, over and over until she came again.
“Fuck…” I pressed my face into the hair at her nape and thrust into her even deeper as my
release shot out. Her pussy milked me until I felt numb from the pleasure and had to pull out. Dizzy, I wedged myself next to her to try and catch my breath. Beth slipped her legs between mine and wrapped her arms around my waist. I felt her heart beating fast and hard in her chest.
“Let’s do that all the time,” I said, making her laugh.
“Sure,” she said, “we’ll just become a couple of sex monkeys and live off of your trust fund for the rest of our lives.” I smiled, but the thought of being with Beth for the rest of my life was not a joke to me. I wanted her for that long and longer. I wanted her all the fucking time and forever.
Forever.
“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” I said, as I kissed her shoulder. Beth’s eyes searched mine curiously. “I want us to be good all the time, Beth, because this is good. Not just the sex but hanging out and being together. I love you.”
She bit her lip on a smile then kissed me. “I love you too, and I didn’t like being mad at you either, by the way. Promise me you’ll tell me whatever it is when it happens, regardless of how pissed you think I’ll be?”
“Promise. I’ve learned my lesson.” I smiled at her, and she kissed me again. We didn’t move for a while. We just cuddled and held onto each other’s warmth. I felt like I was making up for the lost time, re-upping my missed doses of Beth.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Beth
Thankfully, I was able to keep my old deadline. My editor didn’t have many notes and he was actually blown away with the rough draft I’d turned into him. I credited it to being powered by an anger-fueled focus. Either way, it was the run date of both Anthony’s feature and mine. I laid in bed, imagining what the news stand outside of my job would look like. Jonathan’s face on the front of two papers, pictures of the musical, and my story beside Anthony’s, waiting to be judged by the numbers.
“Babe, you still sleeping?” Anthony sat down next to me on his bed, his hair wet from his shower and a towel wrapped around his waist.
“No, I’m worrying,” I said, as he pulled me up by my arms.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Beth” he said, as he kissed my temple before getting up. “Let’s go. You don’t want to be late.” He let go of me and hurried to the closet. I wondered what he was so eager for. Usually he’d lay in bed, forgetting that he had a job or that the world was outside the window.
I got up and got ready for work. When I joined Anthony in the kitchen, he had breakfast set out on the bar, while a newspaper sat underneath one of the plates. I pointed to it, walking slowly forward. “What’s this?”
“The Tribune. I wanted you to read my article,” Anthony said. He set two cups of coffee down and sat next to me. I glanced at him, bemused, but picked up the paper and read the title, Fitzwales’ Noble Secret Amid a Musical about Intrigue.
“Nice title,” I said, giving him props. That would catch people’s attention for sure.
“Go ahead,” Anthony said.
I started reading, not surprised that the story was engrossing and filled with smart takes on the musical as well as including facts about Jonathan. Towards the end, the Common Templars were revealed. Not in a way that exposed some centuries-long secret society, but in a way that revealed Jonathan belonging to it. Anthony mentioned getting into a meeting and explained what the society was about, then wrapped up the feature by bringing it back to Jonathan’s role in the musical. At the very end of the feature, was a note that read: Newspaper articles are seldom dedicated to anyone other than the subject and perhaps the paper itself. But as a journalist, I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank the community of journalists in this city who still help one another. Beth Espinoza was a counterpart to this feature, and without her diligence, there’d be a page and a half of empty space in this morning’s Tribune.
“Oh my god,” I said. “They let you run that?” I looked up at him with a million emotions running through me, and my eyes welled with tears.
Anthony laughed. “Obviously.”
“You’re so dumb! You didn’t have to do that,” I said and hugged him tight.
“I had to. It wouldn’t have felt right to leave you unacknowledged.”
I kissed him hard, then felt a little bad. “I didn’t acknowledge you.”
Anthony nodded. “That’s fine. I mean, it would’ve been weird if you had. You did all the work.”
“You have a point there…” I said, and punched him lightly on the arm.
“I can’t wait to read yours,” he said, while forking up some eggs.
I took a sip of my coffee and shrugged, and for some reason I was nervous. It wasn’t because I didn’t think my feature would do well. It would. I just didn’t like the fact that I’d rushed to rewrite it in two days. Time would tell.
***
I sat in my office at work only half-focusing on a colleague’s column I was asked to read over. Part of my brain wanted to ditch work and play hooky with Anthony, and another part couldn’t stop worrying about my feature and how it was doing.
A shrill ring made me jump. I glanced at my cell phone and saw Jazz’s name, so I answered.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said. It wasn’t like her to call me during the day. When I glanced at the clock, I realized it was lunch time.
“Congrats on the feature, Beth! It’s really good,” Jazz said, making me grin.
“You think so? I’m a wreck over it, I’ve never published anything so rushed before.” I opened my drawer for a granola bar that I’d stashed, too nervous to eat anything else.
“Of course I think so! Plus, I think your piece is better than Anthony’s, which, by the way, it was amazing of him to credit you in. I take it that everything’s back on track with you guys?”
“Yeah, completely, and I’m…I’m really happy,” I said.
“That’s great! I’m happy that you’re happy, and it’s about fucking time.”
“Yeah, I think we’re good, and I think…I think we’re gonna be good for a while,” I said. “Thanks for setting me straight the other day.” My cheeks felt hot just thinking about it. Jazz had been right—Anthony was different from the other guys I’d dated. He was actually good for me.
“Great, now that that’s resolved, how about we talk Christmas wish lists?” Jazz said.
“Oh, shit, I forgot all about that!” I said. Jazz was going home for the holidays, so we’d have to exchange gifts a lot earlier than usual.
“Yeah, I was on the phone with Cara last night, and we were thinking about exchanging gifts the next time we do coffee,” she said.
“Alright, sounds good…” I said. An insistent knock on my office door made me look up. Carl poked his head in, sporting a huge grin. “Jazz I gotta call you back,” I said.
“No worries, later!” She said, and I hung up, giving Carl my full attention. For some reason, those nervous butterflies rose in my belly again.
“Guess what?” Carl had two copies of the day’s paper in his hand. He dropped one on my desk, and it unfolded, showing my bold headline: Jonathan Fitzwales, The Common Templars and Pennsylvania Avenue.
It stared me in the face.
It was more of an historical take on the premise of the musical, the secret society, and Jonathan’s involvement with them, as well as his philanthropy through the society.
“What?” I smiled, though unsure, as he pushed his glasses to the top of his head.
“So far, we’re outselling The Tribune,” Carl said.
“No fucking way,” I said, truly in disbelief. Anthony definitely had the better title than I did. Even though I was fairly certain my content was a bit better than his, now-a-days it was all about the grabby title.
“Yep, and people are talking. It’s coming down the pipeline that some folks at NPR might want to talk to you about the Common Templars. They’ve been building a history segment on secret societies, and with the Templars being so old and so secret, they’re sure to tap you for input.”
“No fucking way,” I said.
“Thanks, Carl,” I said, as he left my office, grinning. I sent the girls a quick text on our group chat to let them know about the good news.
Calls started coming in on my phone as I was leaving the building. First it was Jasmine, followed by Cara, and then Grace, all of them congratulating me on the article. By the time I’d finished speaking with them, I was down the street from Anthony’s offices, so I called him.
“My story is better than yours,” I said, grinning, when he answered.
“Fine, you win,” he said. I heard the smile in his voice.
“I’m close to The Tribune, so…want to get lunch?” I asked.
He told me that he’d be downstairs in a minute and I found him standing beside the entryway on his phone. He hung up as soon as he saw me and then caught me in a tight bear hug.
“You’re allowed to gloat for exactly twenty-four hours,” he said and folded his gloved hand around mine. We walked quickly in the direction of our usual lunch spot—the place where we once ran into his brother and sister.
“Uh, I think I’m owed thirty-six hours, at least,” I said.
Anthony laughed. “Fine, thirty-six hours, then we can officially not be rivals anymore, just us.”
I looked up at him, liking the sound of that. I nodded. “Just us.”
I was beside myself that I could love Anthony and not regret it. That was more than any guy I’d ever dated had offered me, and I didn’t want to let go of the feeling.
Not with Anthony.
Not ever.
The NYCE Girls continues in Book #4 – Just For The Holidays?
The NYCE Girls
Book #4 – Just for the Holidays?
Raquel Belle