by Nella Tyler
She glared at him, not seeing his face, but that of Scott. Wild-eyed, she looked around and saw her handbag, scooping it up and literally running for the elevator. This time she saw the slender button cut into the ebony molding and punched it. She fell inside when the doors instantly opened, pounding the button panel until the doors closed and it began to whoosh downward.
Cole had regained his feet and was left standing in the doorway, looking after the elevator doors as they closed. What the hell just happened? He crossed the foyer and hit the elevator button himself, knowing he would be too late. It would take its occupant to the ground floor before returning to receive him. He had to try, though.
When he finally got to the street level, Gilda was gone. He looked at the doorman, who could clearly see his upset, but the sentry slightly shrugged and turned back to his duty of looking out over the street. The man didn’t want to get embroiled in what he believed was a lover’s quarrel — it never paid because they always made up.
Cole’s shoulders sagged, and he went back to his apartment, throwing the steaks into the refrigerator and throwing the salads in the sink with a crash. Flipping off the lights, he threw himself into his bed and tapped the alarm clock. He lay on his back, kicking off his shoes and peeling his clothes off until they were an indiscriminate pile of fabric on the floor. The housekeeper who came three days a week was due in the morning and would see to them.
He lay there for a long time, the scent of Gilda’s sweetness still lining his nostrils. His head swam as he tried to recall their conversation. Over and over, he played their words in his head, looking for that moment when it had all gone bad. He punched the pillow next to himself and wrapped his core around it. It wasn’t the form he wanted that night, but it was the only one that didn’t fight him off.
Chapter 10
Gilda pushed open the door to Mrs. Crutcher’s apartment building and trudged up the stairs. Carson was still up and excitedly met her on the stairs.
“Mama! I thought I was going to spend the night with Mrs. Crutcher! But you’re home! Is everything okay? Did you have a good time with your friends?” His enthusiasm was like soft fireworks blowing up around her heartsick body.
Behind him stood Mrs. Crutcher, a sad and sympathetic look on her face. She understood that Gilda was home far too early to have had a complete date. Gilda sent her a wave and a gesture of thanks from her heart before letting Carson into their apartment. She nodded understandingly and turned to go back inside.
“He was a good boy, like always. Maybe next time he can spend the night,” she suggested coyly before she closed her door.
Gilda sent Carson to get ready for bed and once she had tucked him in, she ran herself a hot bath and climbed in for a nurturing soak.
She was heartsick. She hadn’t felt even a tinge of interest in any of the men at the precinct — not until Cole had walked into the unit. She had always thought she would be single for the rest of her life and welcomed it. She wanted to dedicate herself to raising Carson well and not to having any man threaten his position as eventual man of the house.
Now, she’d thought she’d found someone who would be the right man — someone who would keep her safe. Someone who could be a good father for Carson. She was very attracted to him, as he appeared to be to her. Why didn’t he tell me he came from a rich family?
Gilda rolled onto her tummy and hung her chin over the edge of her pillow. She didn’t like it when there were secrets. It made her wary, and then she couldn’t be herself. Her radar would go up, putting her instantly on the defense. She knew instinctively that she belonged to a different world. Her people had no money and no way of making it…legally. She had broken free from that mold by moving to New York City — something with which her mama had completely disagreed.
Now, she was a mama herself and needed to establish a set of moral guidelines for Carson. She didn’t want him to identify with the poverty of her childhood, the kind that led good people to do bad things. It was generally the people with money who corrupted the system; they were the only ones with enough influence to accomplish it.
That was what she believed, and she now wanted to keep Carson as far away from Cole as possible. She knew Cole wasn’t a bad man, but she knew that if Carson saw how Cole lived, saw what she wasn’t able to provide him with, he would grow up feeling as poor as she had. She couldn’t allow that.
Her cell rang. Cole’s face came up on the caller ID. She hesitated a moment and good manners prevailed. “Hello?” Her voice was soft and tentative. Carson was sleeping in the next room.
“Why did you leave? You know I care about you, and I can’t help where I come from or how much money my family has. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night? Please? It doesn’t have to be in my apartment — name the place, anywhere you like.”
She sighed and gathered her words carefully. “Cole, all my life, I’ve been under the thumb of rich folks and people who want control. I’m not saying you’re like that, but you, yourself, admitted that your daddy is. Right?”
He cleared his throat, not wanting to answer, but knowing he couldn’t get out of it. “Well, yes, I did say that.”
“So, it’s pretty likely that you and I aren’t gonna get along because I’m not from your people. I was born and raised poor and even though I live here in the city, I’m barely getting by. There’s not a thing wrong with that, but it’s who I am.”
“Gilda, I think you’re exaggerating things. There’s no reason for you to pin me with my father’s characteristics or to jump to conclusions.”
“Oh, yeah? Okay, let’s say your daddy invites us over to dinner, maybe on Christmas Eve with some of his friends.”
“Okay, and?”
“Now, first of all, I don’t have a thing to wear that would be right for something like that. I dress simply because I can’t afford more.”
“I could buy you a dress,” he interrupted quickly.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. I can’t have you buying dresses for me, Cole. I’m not a kept woman.” She had rolled over in frustration and now lay on her back with one knee cross over the other. She stared at the ceiling as though an answer would present itself overhead.
“Of course, you’re not.” His voice was getting louder with his increasing frustration.
“So, what you’re saying is that I wouldn’t be welcomed unless I was wearing a nice dress, and since I can’t afford one myself, you’d have to buy it for me. That would make you ashamed of me. Well, I’m more than a dress, and I probably would be looked down on at that silly Christmas party, anyway. Obviously, you can see why I can’t date you.”
There was a long pause during which Cole gathered his words. “Gilda, honey, you know I care about you, but even you have to admit that was about the silliest logic anyone has ever used to not go on a date. All I want to do is to take you to dinner and maybe a play or a film or a gallery — you name it. The city is yours.”
Gilda sat up, protests welling up inside her. She was about to disconnect the phone when she felt a sudden warmth come over her. Why am I making such a fuss? He’s absolutely right. That really was silly. “Do I have to wear a fancy dress?” she asked him, her voice cocky and her manner teasing.
“You can come however you wish. You can even wear your scrubs from work. I just want to spend time with you; that’s it.”
“Okay, I’ll have dinner with you.”
“Good! Thank you! Give me your address, and I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”
Gilda froze. She might be willing to have dinner with him, despite his money, but she didn’t want him to see where she lived. The risk of him dropping by and accidentally meeting Carson was too great.
“I’ll meet you there,” she said quickly.
“Why? Is there something wrong?” Cole was tapping into her insecurities, and he seemed to know it. It was as if he were doing it intentionally, in an attempt to discredit her logic.
“No, what could be wrong? I’m just n
ot ready to have anyone here and besides, it’s discouraged by my landlord. I live in more of a boarding house than an apartment building.”
He sensed he’d better quit while he was ahead. He named a restaurant and told her he’d meet her there at eight o’clock. “Wear whatever you like,” he told her once again before hanging up.
As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was glad he’d called her back and glad that he had was inviting her to dinner. She fell asleep that evening dreaming of beautiful gowns by French designers and Cole sitting at the end of the sofa, waving away the price tags as she pointed out everything she liked.
PART 2
Chapter 11
With Carson happily settled upstairs once again with Mrs. Crutcher, Gilda ordered a taxi and set off for the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Cole. He was waiting outside for her as the cab pulled up to the curb and opened her door, paying the driver and waving him off.
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so glad you decided to come,” he told her and held her hand as he escorted her inside.
Gilda had worn simple black dress slacks, a turtleneck sweater, and pumps. Her strawberry-blonde hair was piled high on her head and held in place by a pair of black filigreed barrettes she’d found at Goodwill. As a matter of fact, the entire outfit had been sourced at Goodwill, although no one was the wiser — at least, no one she cared about.
The restaurant was called Goodies and featured a mixed menu of casual dishes and a long list of candy-flavored drinks. Some contained alcohol and some didn’t; but the general idea was that adults could come there and have fun as they had when kids. Cole’s goal had been to lighten the tension between them and having a truly fun time seemed the best way to accomplish this.
He had reserved a table out of the main walkways, and Gilda was charmed to find it was a pub table painted bright pink with multi-colored high stools topped by paisley cushions. The walls held posters of children’s movies and each table held an oversized princess telephone.
“What the phone for?” she asked immediately, picking up the receiver.
“That’s how you order food or drink. You can also dial another table — see the number hanging overhead? That lets you flirt with people and invite them to play games with you.
“Is this supposed to be some kind of kinky place in disguise?” she wanted to know.
“Gilda! Do you think I’d bring you somewhere like that? No, everything here is exactly as it appears. Here,” he said, handing her a colorful tablet. “This is the menu. All you have to do is touch what you’d like and then key in the table number. It’s actually pretty fun; give it a try!”
Gilda looked over the menu and saw that although the food had catchy juvenile names, it was actually intended for an adult palate. She chose salmon with a vinaigrette sauce and steamed vegetables. Cole tapped his own preference and they settled back to look around.
Cole reached over the table and held her hand firmly. “I’m so glad you decided to come,” he reiterated.
The phone on their table rang. Gilda jumped and looked at it.
“Go ahead, answer it,” Cole urged.
She looked to him for reassurance and tenderly picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hello there, Miss. If you’ll look to your right, you’ll see a clown with a red nose and a number on his shirt. If you will run across the room and tap that number on the keypad you’ll find next to the register, you’ll get a big prize.”
The line went dead. “What on earth?”
Cole grinned. “Was someone giving you instructions?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I don’t understand.”
“Better not wait. Do what the voice told you to do, and scoot to it! These are timed.”
Gilda looked around until she spotted the clown and when she found him, she saw there was a red “14” on his shirt. She left her stool and quickly walked across the room, looking for the register. It was highlighted by a neon sign pointing downward with a dollar sign, and she headed straight to it. True to the instructions she had received, there was a keypad, and she quickly punched in the numbers 1-4 and hit “Enter.”
A siren began to howl and somewhat frightened, she headed quickly back to where Cole was sitting, except that he was no longer there. Puzzled, she took her stool, and suddenly there were balloons dropping down from the ceiling, each imprinted with the number “14.” They fell into piles surrounding her, but still there was no Cole to be found.
She felt a hand tapping her shoulder and turned to see a life-size replica of the wall clown, but this one was alive and held out a bouquet to her. She took it and he tipped his bowler and disappeared beyond the balloons. She counted fourteen red roses and held them against her chest.
She felt a touch at her elbow this time and turned to see two women, each dressed in a turn-of-the-century long gown. One held a key, and the other waggled her finger for Gilda to follow. Looking around for Cole, she still didn’t see him. Thinking he must be part of the game, she followed the woman who led her to a brightly painted door that was crooked and held a giant blue handle. The woman handed her the key and motioned for Gilda to slide it in the lock, which she did. The woman then motioned for her to turn the blue handle, and Gilda complied.
The door opened and inside she saw Cole, sitting on a sofa, one leg crossed over the other knee. “Come in, Gilda,” he said, motioning to her.
Her mouth dropped open as she realized that this was the exact image she’d seen in her dream the night before. She walked toward the sofa and Cole patted a cushion. “Pick anything you like,” he said as models began to enter the room, each dressed in an outfit more stunning than the one before.
“Which ones do you like?” he prompted her.
She shook her head. “No, you’re not doing this to me,” she began, but Cole held up his hand.
“I insist. Call it an early Christmas present.” He was smiling and earnestly excited to see her happy.
She shook her head again. “No, you don’t understand. I saw all this in my dream last night. After we talked. It looked exactly like this.”
Cole could tell she was getting upset. He motioned the models and saleswoman away and had them close the door. He slid over next to Gilda to put his arm around her shoulders.
“Honey, what has you so scared?”
“I saw all this right after I went to sleep last night,” she said, motioning around the room. “I dreamed you had me in a room like this, and I was expected to pick whatever I wanted from the clothes, shoes, jewelry…all of it.”
He frowned. “Gilda, baby, I just thought of all this when I woke up this morning. I was here once at a birthday party for my buddy’s wife; I thought you’d get a kick out of it. It’s all in fun, baby, truly it is.”
Gilda sat there, shaking her head.
“We can go, if you like.”
She stood up and made her way to the blue-handled door. She opened it and headed directly for the entrance, bursting through the double doors into the cold night with the clean, star-laden skies.
Cole was right behind her. “Baby, I swear, I didn’t mean for this to upset you. I thought it would be fun, and that you’d get a kick out of it.”
She whirled on him. “How do explain that I saw this in my dream last night?”
He shrugged.
“You’re scaring me, Cole. I want to go home, now. Please call me a cab.”
He reached out to pull her close, but she pulled away and began walking down the sidewalk. She hadn’t gone twenty paces when a taxi pulled up, and Cole opened the door, seated inside. “Get in, Gilda. I’m taking you home.”
She followed orders and climbed in before realizing that she couldn’t let him drive her home. “No, don’t take me home,” she ordered the driver and looked at Cole. “I don’t want to go home; not yet. I’m shook up by this. I feel like I’m in some kind of nightmare.”
Cole wrapped his arm around her and gave the cab
driver his address. He settled her back against his chest and kissed the top of her head. He could feel her begin to relax and cuddled her more closely. They still had a ten-minute drive before they reached his apartment, and he hoped she might dose off. He planned to give her wine and something to eat once they got there.
He was concerned by her reaction at the restaurant. She’d acted in an almost irrational manner, accusing him of setting things up and completely missing the general fun spirit of the place.
He realized that in one way, she was completely right: she didn’t belong in this world. She didn’t belong in New York City and its superficial world of make-believe. She couldn’t understand that people there had to engage in the extraordinary to offset the suffocating overwhelm of too many people, too much expense, and the constant implied danger of befriending even the waiter at your table. It was a world of treachery, and she wasn’t up to its challenge.
He wondered what had happened in her past to make her like this. It would take some investigation, but he’d have to proceed slowly. She was like a frightened child, ready to run at the slightest urging.
He felt her stiffen, and his eyes snapped down to look at her. She was staring at some placards mounted in frames on the back of the driver’s seat. There, in full color, was a picture of the interior of the restaurant where they’d just left. The dining area was the center photo, but it was banked by smaller pictures of games, bright memorabilia, and, of course, the salon where he had invited her to select gowns and shoes.
“That’s it,” she said loudly, sitting upright. “That’s where I saw it.” She slapped her hand to her chest. “Oh, thank you, sweet Jesus. I thought I was going crazy.”
That’s when Cole caught on. “There was one of those in the cab you took home last night, wasn’t there?”