by Andrea Wolfe
"Those are MarieBelle," Sam said from right outside his office. "One of the finest chocolate makers in the city. Pricey as hell." He could apparently tell from the logo on the box since I hadn't opened it yet.
"Thanks for the history lesson," I said sarcastically. I opened the box to find four trays with these little diamond-shaped, multi-colored pieces of chocolate. It was incredibly pretty, incredibly charming. It felt like the dessert version of a box of Crayola crayons. I wasn't quite ready to eat chocolate that early in the morning, so I pushed the box over by the roses. Honestly, I was running out of space—and if he sent me more stuff, it was only going to get worse.
I thought about that sentence fragment all day. He was trying to get me to guess something, to somehow anticipate his next move, and I wasn't doing well. No guy had ever confused me like this. If it had been anyone other than Jack, I would have found it to be kind of creepy, a feeling that I didn’t think was entirely rational despite the fact that as a girl, I easily felt it. But despite my outward disgust in front of Sam, being spoiled publicly was kind of a nice, warm feeling.
Every girl needed a few moments like that, right? Spoiled by her boyfrie—
No, I couldn't go there.
After staring at the blue box all morning—it certainly was pretty—I decided to have one of the chocolates at lunch. It was so good that I almost passed out. It was decadent, artisan, melt-in-your-mouth chocolate. It was almost enough to put me into a food coma.
After a second one, I drew the line and pushed the box to the other side of my desk again. I would save these for later. Moderation was my friend.
There was nothing from Jack again. Honestly, I was thinking about him more than ever now. His persistence had to mean something. Maybe I was wrong about the girl outside the suite and now he was really trying to make things right.
My Wednesday morning commute was overloaded with high-intensity thinking. Oh yes, I arrived at a suspicion that wound up proving to be correct.
I rushed into the office, hoping to see another gift, not because I wanted another gift, but because it confirmed that I had figured it out. Yep, I was right. Sam wasn't standing there today—I'm not so sure I would have been able to handle more of his snooping, so that was a good thing—but there was a gift, a small, black box. The potential gravity of the situation had me worried. I plucked the card as if it were an eyebrow and ripped it open.
meet for
-J
I cursed under my breath again. Sam noticed my frustration and immediately walked toward me. He seemed troubled instead of nosy. "Effie, should I be calling the police or something?" He wasn't smiling today.
"No," I said with finality. "It's not bad. I'm just frustrated. Who keeps bringing these here?"
"Delivery services. I obviously would have figured it out if the guy kept showing up here."
"What makes you so certain it's a guy?" I asked, distracting myself by making a joke. "J could be a woman, right?"
"Oh, come on," he said. "You're sure you don't have any ideas? You've got everybody talking about you in the break room."
Of course they were, Sam. They were a bunch of gossips in the break room.
"It could be my ex, I guess. But that's not his first initial." I cleared my throat. "I don't know." I opened up the box mechanically, my hands more curious than my brain. And then I choked on my coffee.
It was a diamond-encrusted bottle of lotion, one that appeared to reflect light like a mirror. Carita Diamant De Beaute Diamond Cream it said. I covered my face with my hands, shielding myself from this ridiculous luxury gift as if it were a venomous snake.
This shit couldn't be cheap! I almost blacked out.
"You're such a terrible liar, Effie." Sam turned around and left me there to wallow in my own confusion. "Let me know when you figure out the billionaire that likes you."
I couldn't take it anymore. It was day three now, and Jack still hadn't completed his second sentence, his request for me. More gifts were on their way, but based on how nice today's was, I didn't think I couldn't handle another without fainting.
Oh yeah, and I was nearly out of desk space.
This was a beautiful disaster, a thing that usually only happened in the movies. I was being lavished with extravagant gifts, a victim of the most pleasant crime in the world. I suddenly understood how someone could love a guy like Al Capone.
This had to stop. I had to give in and put an end to this. I looked up Jack online until I found the office phone number for his company. After viciously punching it into my phone, I ran over to Sam's office door. "I'll be right back," I said.
"Sure. Take your time." He gave me a wan smile.
I ran out into the hallway, my hands shaking as I held the phone. It rang multiple times and then a woman answered, immediately filling me with dread—until I remembered I had called his office.
"Is Jack there?" I asked frantically.
"Mr. Teller doesn't take calls without appointments. May I ask who is calling?"
"Effie Jacobs!" I was leaned against the tall, plate-glass windows that looked out into the city. The pause after I said my name seemed like an eternity.
"He's not here right now. I'll let him know you called, Ms. Jacobs. Have a nice day." The line clicked off before I could say anything else. My heart was racing out of control as I stood there, staring at my phone in disbelief. No, I couldn't make it through the whole day like this. I was a train that had derailed, one that was about to explode into a huge fireball—and there might be casualties.
I regained my sanity with a huge, deep breath and stared out at the city, the hustle and bustle that wouldn't end, no matter the time of day. I was living some sort of fantasy, trapped in a world where people seemed to be exclusively on their best behavior. Everything about this situation was different from what I knew about NYC and famous people, night and day. I didn't deserve any of this. I was a nobody from the Midwest, a college graduate who just got lucky and wound up a (very small) part of this very big machine.
There would be no conclusion right now. Jack wasn't there, so I'd just have to sit and wait. It made me hate him a little for not being around when I wanted him to be, made me dislike how vague he was being. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't need to play these stupid little games with him, that I was stronger than—
Buzz!
My phone was pressed against the glass, vibrating from an incoming call like a massager gone wild. It scared the hell out of me. I didn't recognize the number—so I picked it up immediately.
"Ms. Jacobs?" came a very familiar voice.
"Jack! Why the hell are you doing this?"
"We had a misunderstanding. And I like you, Ms. Jacobs."
Fuck! I didn't want to feel this vulnerable, but it was working. "I like you too!" I blurted it out, suddenly transporting back to middle school and feeling like a loser. Sorry Jack, gotta go to social studies class now! See ya!
"Can we meet for coffee? Lunch?"
The puzzle was solved! Maybe I should have let him keep sending me stuff after all if that was all he had to say...
"Jack, I—"
"No excuses. Meet me in two hours. I'll text you the address. Goodbye, Effie." The call ended while I remained speechless, unable to process what was going on. Sensory overload as usual.
I took a deep breath and went back into the office to attempt to get some work done before lunch. Something told me that I had to give him a second chance, that it really was a misunderstanding. Gambling was just not my thing—this whole situation was not my thing either.
I knew it might be a trap, but dammit, it felt good.
Chapter 4
Jack met me outside a Greek restaurant, one that he claimed had some of the best coffee in town. "It's called a freddo cappuccino," he said appreciatively. "Milk whipped in a milkshake maker with espresso. Positively perfect."
"Nice alliteration, Jack. As long as it's got caffeine, I'll drink it." I weakly smiled at him, trying my damn
dest not to be utterly smitten by his painfully good looks. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black button-down dress shirt that had the first three buttons unbuttoned, enough that I could see a dash of soft hair on his chest. It really made me want to see his whole chest...
We got a table to the side, one that was fairly private and secluded compared to the rest of the place. Jack ordered our freddo cappuccinos and then he sprung to life, wasting no time at all..
"I'm so sorry, Effie. This is going to sound like a stupid cliché—and I know you already said that—but it was just a misunderstanding, I swear." Jack took a slow sip from his water. "That girl—well, she's a little strange. Elana is her name. She stays down the hall sometimes. Has a lot of emotional baggage. I tried dating her at one point—we shared an apartment together and it just grew from there—but it didn't last long and it's been over for years. Yeah, she's pretty, but she's literally un-dateable." He was so blunt and forward. No hang ups. No pauses until he was done.
"Oh, so she's like a friend with benefits? Do you still sleep with her?"
Jack frowned at me. "Absolutely not. She gets drugged up and then comes and knocks on my door. I never answer it. You walked out right when she showed up. After you left, I walked her back to her place and wished her a goodnight. End-of-story. I just try to be nice to her."
"Well, how the hell can she afford a place like that?" I asked suddenly.
"She is crazy, not poor. She's a fucking good artist. You've probably actually seen her work around town."
"Where would I have seen it?"
He laughed. "I don't know exactly, but Elana says it's there. There are a lot of places it could be. Plus, they never kick her out of her room, so cash must be coming from somewhere."
"You really believe her?" I did believe him, actually, about all of this. Upon reflection, he hadn’t seemed happy to see her at all. Maybe he had been just feigning it, but based on what he was saying, it didn't seem that way.
Jack smiled at me and looked deep into my eyes—I was already hooked. "Effie, it doesn't matter what Elana says or does. She's out of the picture, I promise. That was just a strange coincidence. And I'm sorry for moving so fast with you. Sometimes I forget that women are different from men. I'm a dumbass."
I had to really think about that one. Had we actually moved too fast? Would I have done that in any other situation? I couldn't answer that question for myself. Nevertheless, I still felt something that was unmistakably lust. The more I stared at this man, the more I wanted him—and now he was acting like our encounter had been too far too soon.
"Effie?"
I hadn't said anything and it was obvious how loudly I was thinking.
"Yeah, sorry." I paused again, trying to calculate the right thing to say next. The coffee arrived before I had a chance.
"Try it," he said excitedly. The thrill of coffee served as a nice distraction. His enthusiasm was adorable.
I looked at the beverage, the visual aspect of it really beautiful. The cold, whipped milk sat atop the espresso just perfectly, a small blur of color where the two substances met. I took a sip and couldn't believe it. It was the perfect amount of sweet while not being too sweet, the perfect iced coffee drink for that warm summer day.
"Wow. This is really good." A smile that I just couldn't hold back broke out on my face.
"Come on a date with me tonight, okay? Casual, no big deal." The words sputtered out at a machine-gun pace, as if he hadn't heard me compliment the coffee at all.
I sort of forgot about the coffee, too.
"What if I say no?"
"I'll send you three gifts tomorrow."
He definitely had the upper hand. "Fine, you win. I'll go." I took another sip of the drink. "What about Sam, though?" I asked.
"The business part of it? I'll never let this negatively affect your work situation. I promise. The artist and I haven't made a final decision yet. It has nothing to do with you."
"Sam is still freaking out about it," I said. "He seems pretty desperate. Maybe you should—"
"Maybe I should what?" he asked suddenly. "If I let this sway my business decision in any way, I could get into trouble later. So I'll keep it clear and concise, and we'll let him know when—and if—we're ready."
I quickly realized I had little to no idea what I was talking about—and more importantly that I needed to just shut up and not worry right now. "Okay, fine. Yeah, make the best decision for you."
"I always do," he said with a sly smile. "That's why I'm here."
"What if I said no to the date? Would you skip MCI?"
He started laughing and lightly stroked my hand, enough that it actually made me tremble. I was just glad to see that despite the little flare-up of business-related seriousness, he had already made a triumphant return to being jovial.
We kept with that theme and chatted casually the rest of the lunch. It seemed obvious that Jack wanted to keep things light—or maybe to save the heavy stuff for our upcoming, newly inevitable dinner.
As always, time seemed to move too fast, and before I knew it, I had to head back to work. Jack gave me a quick hug to conclude our little meeting, and honestly, I'll say I really liked it. I liked how secure I felt with his arms felt around me, as if I were momentarily shielded from the harshness of the city. It was so weird and tumultuous—I was trying to validate the things I felt whilst trying hide in a cloak of being logical.
The world rushed back in like an unpleasant drug as our bodies separated, the hug concluding prematurely, in my mind, at least. It had probably been the perfect amount of length; I just was too caught up to know for sure.
Jack smiled and headed off. There was no explicit goodbye. It was an omission that only served to make me even more excited about our upcoming date.
"Thanks for the gifts," I shouted to him as he got farther away. He lifted his hand to signify that he heard.
***
Sam didn't say anything else to me the rest of the day, only asking if I had any of the chocolates left.
"You really think I could eat all hundred of those, Sam? There were a lot in there."
He laughed uncontrollably and left again, realizing that I had taken them home. Sam seemed slightly more relaxed today, but I had no idea why. He didn't appear to be carrying as much tension in his shoulders.
I was afraid to say anything with regard to Jack, worried that just mentioning his name would implicate me in some sort of crime—or even worse, remind him that my secret admirer's name started with the letter J.
I left the office on time and headed home, walking as briskly as possible after I got off the last train. Jack was supposed to send a cab to my house to pick me up when it was time. I just needed to pick out something cute and casual to wear and I'd be all set to meet him.
After grabbing my favorite pair of jeans from the closet, I picked out a low-cut blouse. Normally, I would I have sought to be a little more conservative than that, but it was comfortable, and Jack had insisted that I be comfortable. Plus, there was nothing wrong with showing some cleavage. I had the boobs, so why not enjoy 'em?
I tidied up my hair/touched up my make-up and then sent Jack a text that said I was ready. Ten minutes after that, I headed downstairs and hopped in the cab that was there waiting for me. It was just as he promised.
The driver was very friendly, so friendly that he probably would have told me exactly where we were headed had I asked. I wanted a surprise, however, so I kept my mouth shut. I just wouldn't know where we were going until we got there.
Excitement bloomed inside of me, every passing block only making it worse. I was giddy as hell—this wasn't like a date I was used to.
The destination turned out to be a casual bar and grill sort of restaurant. Being new to the city, I had never been to it. The line in front of the building was a good sign, however. Jack was standing right in front of the crowd, his hair perfectly messy, his jeans perfectly tight. He opened the cab door for me.
"Effie! So nice of yo
u to join me! You look terrific."
"Couldn't you have sent a limo?" I asked jokingly, instinctively deflecting his compliment and putting the attention on something less serious. I wasn't ready to start blushing.
"Next time," he said.
"Jack!" I complained, knowing that he probably wasn't kidding. He extended his arm and I accepted it, emerging into the warm night air.
Jack handed some cash to the driver and then led me inside, cutting through the rows of people waiting to get in. The interior was pretty much what I would have expected. There was a stage for live music and an expansive bar. Jack had a table for us near the stage, one that seemed exclusive, even if it wasn't. I couldn't tell if he was privileged here, or if he just made the proper reservations.
We started with a couple of drinks—he got a Manhattan again; I got a gin and tonic—and with their arrival came his inquisition.
"Effie, I want to know about you. Why are you here? Why are you giving me a chance? I'm sure tons of guys bother you all the time." It was the first round of drinks, so I couldn't blame it on the alcohol—yet.
I was taken aback by his forwardness, but I liked that he was being blunt. It blew my mind that he was asking me about being hit on, because I wanted to ask the same of him. He was the music star while I was just nothing. Maybe it was just him manipulating me, but even if it was, I liked it. It leveled the playing field entirely by making us both equal.
No lie emerged from my lips, even though I felt that his question was a little unjustified this early on. I was as honest as possible with him, withholding no details, keeping no secrets. When I mentioned my history with Timothy, he laughed.
"I know people like that," he said. "You made the right decision. It might have been okay for a year, but then you'd start realizing what you missed out on." Despite his preaching to the choir, I really appreciated his sympathy. It felt warm and genuine, even if it was redundant.