by Nella Tyler
“Yes, yes, I’m just fine, thank you.”
“May I help you, Miss?”
“I’m looking for apartment eight-oh-one?” she read from Cole’s text.
“Yes, Miss… That would be Mr. Stephens in his apartment. Right this way. May I have your name?”
“Sawyer, Gilda Sawyer.”
“Yes, Miss, you’re expected. Right this way; you can take the express elevator to the apartment.”
“Are you sure?” Gilda looked again at the text.
“Miss?”
“I mean, I don’t think I have the right man. There’s no way Cole would live in a place like this, much less an apartment like this.”
“I can assure you, Miss, he does indeed. And you are on the guest list.”
“I am? Well, then let’s check this out,” Gilda nodded and followed him to the revolving door where he led her to an elevator that contained no exterior button, merely a keyhole. He pulled a key from his ring and inserted it.
“Miss?” he offered as he stood back to allow her to enter.
Gilda looked at him and then inside the waiting elevator. It was somewhat smaller than normal, but if it was private, that would explain it. It was decorated tastefully with thick carpet and a tapestry-upholstered seat. She walked in and the door closed. She could feel its upward momentum as it sped to the top floor, opening into a private lobby. The door to the apartment opened and there stood Cole. He was dressed in casual, but expensive, tailored slacks and a monogrammed sweater.
“Cole?” Gilda questioned in amazement.
“Sure! Who else? Come on in.” He held out his hand and pulled her forward.
“Who lives here?” Her voice was filled with awe.
“Well, at the moment, I do. Is that a problem?” His voice indicated he was puzzled.
“Problem? No… It’s just that I expected…” Her voice trailed off as she fumbled for the right words to say.
“A trashy, little walk-up on the eighth floor?” His green eyes were sparkling at her discomfiture.
“Well… Yes, to be honest.”
“Paybacks are hell, aren’t they?” he teased her, and she knew again it was about his physical exam.
Cole noticed the brown paper bag Gilda was holding. “What’s in the bag?”
She crumpled it against herself, attempting to hide it.
“C’mon, let me see it.”
“Oh, no, I’d be embarrassed.” Gilda was blushing and he thought it was cute.
“No, no, don’t be that way. What did you bring with you?” He reached for the bag and pulled it away. Opening it, he looked inside and saw two cans of cola. “What are these for?”
“I thought I’d bring something for us to drink. Now I’m really embarrassed. Your apartment is nothing like I expected, to tell you the truth.”
“Really? Why? What did you expect?”
“I guess I expected something more in keeping with a guy who has been out of work.” She was embarrassed at her obvious assumption.
“Well, why don’t you come in and sit down. I’ll open a bottle of wine and we can talk. How about if I save the colas for dinner?”
“Oh, now I really am embarrassed.” She smiled as she blushed, and Cole thought she was adorable.
He put his arm around her and led her into the living room. She gasped as she saw the New York City skyline through his floor-to-ceiling windows. “Oh my God, this is gorgeous.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”
Although Cole was standing next to the sofa, she stood still for a few minutes just to look around. His apartment was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Everywhere she looked there were signs of utter luxury. The walls were covered with either deeply recessed paneling or a soft, gray leather wallpaper. There were recessed lights in the ceiling highlighting oil paintings hung as they would have been in a gallery. There were what Gilda believed to be painted Chinese lamps with black shades sitting on various tables around the room. The effect was muted and very elegant. Like the wallpaper, the sofa was a soft gray and faced matching club chairs. An oriental room-size rug covered much of what was a Brazilian wood floor.
“It is just absolutely gorgeous, Cole,” she told him, her voice filled with awe. “But how can you afford to live here on a cop’s salary?”
“Come over here and sit down.” She walked toward where he held out a glass of red wine. “I hope you like this.”
“It’s delicious,” she said, taking a tentative sip.
“So, don’t be afraid. Sit down and I will explain.” She did as he asked, taking a seat on the sofa and carefully sitting erect so as not to spill any of the wine.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “Just relax, please? I want you to feel at home here.”
“I’m fine,” she said, running her hand over the soft, luxurious fabric. “So, tell me. Fill me in.”
He grinned at her words, choosing to ignore the pun. Perhaps, he thought, she isn’t even aware of what she is saying. “Okay, so, what you see around you is obviously above the paygrade of a new cop. I will say, first of all, that even though I’ve been in the military, it’s also above that paygrade. The truth is, Gilda, my family has a little money.”
“A little money?” Her voice was incredulous.
He flushed and shifted from foot to foot. “So, they have a lot of money. But don’t think that money is everything. In fact, it can sometimes be the worst thing.”
“Well, you couldn’t prove it by me,” she told him. “I’ve never had enough to worry about it.”
“Money can be corrupting. Sometimes, some people think that money takes the place of integrity, good manners, or kindness.”
“You’re talking like someone who has experience with that?” she prompted, sipping her wine.
“I suppose you could say that. I’m an only child… Look, I don’t want to bore you with all this,” he said.
“Oh, you are not boring me. Not one bit. Actually, I would like to hear a little how the money people live.”
He laughed. “Money people? Is that how you think of me?”
“Well, I didn’t before, not until just a few minutes ago when I walked in here.” She looked around the room and saw a grand piano sitting at an angle in the corner. “Like that, for instance. Do you play?”
He nodded. “I’ve been known to tinker a bit.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. I’ll bet you’re really good tinkerer,” she observed aloud. “In any case, I know for sure you are worth a whole lot more than I am.”
“My father was strict about my taking lessons. He saw to it that I learned to play the piano, then I golfed, fenced, played billiards, games of strategy, I speak four languages, and know my way around art.”
Gilda shook her head. “Cole, I think this is a mistake.”
“What do you mean? Mistake?” He was puzzled, and the atmosphere was instantly tense.
“I’m just saying that people where I come from don’t mix with the people where you come from. Get it?”
“You can’t be serious, Gilda. Are you suggesting that you are some sort of money snob?”
She stood up, setting her glass of wine on the marble-topped coffee table. “What I’m saying, is this. No, I am not a money snob, as you call it. But I do think that you have way more money, education, and contacts than I could ever hope to have in my life. I don’t think I’m your type of girl. I wouldn’t fit into your life. So, for me to stay and to pretend otherwise isn’t going to end well.”
“You have got to be kidding me, Gilda. Most women would be wrapped all over me, wanting what I have.”
She frowned, disappointment all over her face. “I’m not most women.” She headed toward the door. “I’ll see you around.”
“What? Are you serious? You are leaving? I don’t understand. What did I say wrong?”
He felt a sudden desperation. He had never experienced a woman running out on him before. He was totally unprepared how to handle it. He stood there, momentar
ily bewildered, and then realized that Gilda had already reached the door, opened it, and was standing outside the elevator. “Wait! Gilda, wait!”
If it weren’t for the fact that Gilda didn’t know how to open the elevator, she would’ve already been on her way to the lobby. She turned around on her heel and faced him, obviously displeased.
“Hold on,” he pleaded with her. “What did I say?”
“It’s actually more of a matter of what you didn’t say,” she told him, softly rebuking him. “You should have warned me. You gave all the signs of someone who is just getting started in life. That led me to believe that we might have something in common. I never expected…well…all this.”
“Gilda, I had no idea this would be so important to you. I wasn’t aware that I gave you any impression. This is just me. It’s how I live. It’s how I was brought up. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you. Can’t you tell?”
“Where I come from, people are real. They don’t go out into the world pretending they are someone else.” She felt frustrated and didn’t understand why.
“Gilda, think about it. In my world they do the same thing. The only differences that my family has a bigger bank account. Everyone thinks he or she is being authentic.” He couldn’t understand why she was getting so upset.
“No, it starts with a bigger bank account. It goes on to include elegant apartments, fancy art on the walls, and glasses of wine instead of cola.”
“Gilda, please come back in and sit down. Let’s talk about this. I’m not sure where things went wrong; it wasn’t in my plans to mislead you in any way. Surely, your good manners allow a guy to explain things, don’t they?”
She frowned at this. He made a good point. She had leapt to conclusions, and that really wasn’t very fair. She supposed he couldn’t help having a lot of money, any more than she could help having none.
A bit ashamed of herself, she went back into the room and sat down on the sofa. “Okay, tell me all about yourself. Maybe I wasn’t being fair to you. It’s just that my life is very different from yours.”
“I get that. I don’t blame you. I’ll tell you a little now and maybe more later, if you still want to hear it. After all, we still haven’t had dinner,” he pointed out.
She nodded and motioned for him to go ahead and talk.
“Okay, well, the money started with my grandfather. He was in manufacturing, near Chicago. It just so happened that he manufactured engines for small airplanes. This was back in the late thirties.
“I don’t have to tell you that the war came right after that time, and my grandfather was, as they say, in the right place at the right time. He picked up several contracts from the U.S. government and was turning out engines as quickly as his plant could handle them. He even added on and hired more people when the war didn’t end as quickly as everyone hoped.
“So, my dad was brought up with money. He was used to having it. Those who know him say that it was used to having him, as well. My father is not a good man, Gilda. He’s used to getting his way, even if it hurts the people around them.
“He and I were not close. He had his friends, his country club, his business, his mistresses, and there was no room for me in that world. There wasn’t even room for my mother.”
“I’m sorry, Cole,” Gilda murmured.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. It was what it was. Between my father’s lack of interest in my life and the fact that I was raised around other guys in fairly similar boats, there was a period of my life when I was quite an asshole. You need to understand that about me.
“It began when my mother died. Cancer. The bad kind. My father hired nurses and doctors, but they’re not the same as family. He sent me away to boarding school on the East Coast because he thought it would be better if I didn’t watch her die. I hated him for that. It wasn’t his call. She deserved to have someone who loved her by her side, even if it was only her son.” He paused and looked out over the city, lost in his memories.
“Anyway, when she was gone, there didn’t seem to be any reason for me to go home again. So I stayed boarding school, became a bad boy who hung out with other bad boys, and the result was that my father found more reasons to not like me. I’m not really sure that I ever disappointed him; I think he was rather proud of the fact that I was possibly more of a reprobate than he was. Who knows, I may have even gotten some of it from him.
“But the fact remains that there came a point when I realized that I hated my father. In fact, I hated everything about him.”
Cole coughed as though emotion was choking him. “From then on, I made it my business to be better than him. I wanted to earn things, not to have them just given to me. I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror and know that I was standing on my own two feet. You, not being a man, may have trouble understanding that.”
“No, not really. I didn’t have a daddy, at all. At least, not one that Mama would admit to. I’m not really sure if she knew who he was, tell you the truth. I love my mama. She was always good to me.
“But, I won’t say that I’m proud of her. I think she could have made better choices, even if they meant that I wouldn’t be sitting here. But she did what she did, and I am sitting here, and actually, I’m very embarrassed that I jumped to conclusions about you. I suppose in some ways, I’m even better off than you are. I still have my mama.”
Cole joined her on the sofa as they sipped their wine and contemplated their past. “Well, we’ve become a cheerful pair, haven’t we?” He smiled and held his glass out for a toast. She lifted hers, as well.
“Here’s to us,” he improvised. “One of us had and didn’t want; the other one had nothing and could have wanted more.”
“I’ll agree to that,” Gilda acknowledged. “I wished the same about my mama — still do. I wish I could provide more for her. But there are limits to what I can do.”
“I have no idea how you live,” Cole mentioned, handing her a plate with hors d’oeuvres artistically arranged around a small bowl of caviar.
She shook her head and held out her hand. “No, thank you. I tend to stick to simpler foods. Those would just be wasted on me.”
“Gilda, nothing is wasted on you. You are perfect and deserve to have everything that life can offer you.”
She was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, thinking of Carson. “I have many blessings. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You know I’m interested in you, don’t you?” Cole’s face came close and even though Gilda had dreamed of that moment since he’d invited her to dinner, for some reason, she pulled back. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I’m not so sure, but I think it’s because I thought you were like me, and now you’re not. It just feels different.”
Cole, frustrated and unused to rejection, pulled back instantly. “Okay, let’s talk about this. What makes me so unlikeable suddenly? You were fine at lunch, and fine when you first came here. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Gilda reached behind her head and removed the clip that held up her braid. She needed to feel more comfortable for this kind of discussion. She folded her feet beneath her and picked up the glass of wine again. She shook her head and the braid opened, a curtain of shining, long hair spilling over her shoulders and down upon her breasts.
Cole hardened at the sight, picturing that beautiful mane spilling down onto his chest. He wanted her to ride him, somewhere wild, such as aboard a sailboat on a stormy sea with the wind lifting her hair like a Valkyrie. He broke from his reverie to Gilda was looking at him, a look of expectancy on her face.
“I’m sorry? You did that thing with your hair and it sent me into a daydream. You have beautiful hair, you know.”
“Thank you, but I asked you what you wanted from your life, besides being a cop?” She was genuinely interested; he could tell by the look on her face.
He lifted the wine bottle to refill their glasses, but she waved him away, looking at her watch. The gesture did not go unnoti
ced. He sprang to his feet. “I didn’t realize the time. Look, why don’t you come with me into the kitchen? I’ve got steaks ready to go under the broiler and there are salads waiting. How do you like yours cooked?”
“My steak or my salad?” she quipped, and he turned to see her eyes sparkling.
“Smarty pants. Just for that, I’m throwing your salad into the toaster!” He grabbed for her to slap her playfully on the bottom, but as he drew her close, he could smell her perfume, as sweet as a garden on a hot Southern night. Her eyes widened as he pulled her against his chest and tilted her chin upward until he could kiss her — hard. He breathed in her air, and the scent flowed through his head, inflaming his body with desire for her.
She was full-breasted and ripe as a freshly picked melon. He kissed her and thought of sunshine and wagons piled with hay popped into his mind, of the shiny coat of a horse lathered from a long run, and of a cool stream lacing the trunks of shady oaks, standing sentry against time itself. She was elemental and real in this city of danger and superficiality. He knew in that moment that he would never find another like her — not here, not with her innocence. She was a little girl wrapped in a woman’s body, and her eager smile lit the skies around her.
Cole kissed her harder, forcing her mouth open to receive his tongue. She jerked a bit, and he wondered momentarily how innocent she might really be. The thought was fleeting, however, as her sweet body melted against him, and he knew that he wanted her.
He scooped her up and carried her back to the sofa, laying her down on her back and supporting his weight above her. He kissed her cheek, inhaling the scent of her hair and moving down the side of her neck into the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. The soft, tender skin he found there was his undoing, and as her hands came up to protest, he grabbed them both with his one and held them captive over her head. The motion was unconscious, born of the need to be closer to her, to possess her as one would a newly blossomed flower.
Gilda, however, wasn’t so overcome.
Shades of Scott and the way he’d tied her arms outward returned, and she felt the familiar fear blossoming in her tummy. She began to thrash, pushing Cole off her by rolling out from beneath him and giving him a shove with her hip. He felt himself falling from the sofa and when he released his grip upon her to catch himself, she was out from beneath him, lightning quick.