by RB Hilliard
“Are you sick?” she shouted up the stairs. “You don’t look so good. I have a thermometer you stick in your….”
“I’m fine!” I shouted, “Just a little tired is all.”
She stepped further into the entry and I tried not to flinch at the horrid yellow and black striped gown thing she was wearing. Thank God she didn’t have those things in her hair this morning.
Placing her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at me. “You look green and you promised we would talk.”
Suddenly I was transported back to my childhood when my parents were alive and happy. Whenever my mom got exasperated with my dad she would place her hands on her hips and narrow her eyes at him. All of a sudden I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Get a fucking grip, Zane. While Miss Weston rambled on about needing to talk to me I quickly thumbed through the keys in search of Apartment C.
“Zane Mitchell, are you listening to me?” she huffed.
“Yes, uh, I’ll send Cathryn right down, I promise.” The second I found Cathryn’s key, I dismissed Miss Weston and bolted down the hall toward her door.
“If I wanted Cathryn, I would ask her myself!” she shouted after me. Before she could say another word I was through Cathryn’s door and closing it behind me.
I knew I shouldn’t be entering a tenant’s apartment without warning, especially not this tenant, but I could not deal with that woman one more second. As I turned the lock on the door I faintly heard music coming from the back of the apartment. It sounded like The Hills by The Weekend. Again, I wondered what Cathryn was doing. Turn around and walk back out that door, a part of me screamed. For some reason I couldn’t. Glancing around I realized this was my first time in this apartment. A comfortable looking sofa and chairs occupied one end of the room. On the other sat a small dining table. Beth lived here for a year and in all that time I never stepped foot inside her apartment. Cathryn and Beth were nothing alike, thank God. Even though it was sparsely furnished, Cathryn’s place felt warm and inviting. Being that I’d inherited my apartment from my mother, it didn’t represent me at all. This place looked like Cathryn. I followed the music across the living room and into a small hallway. Most of the apartments looked the same. However, a few tenants through the years had theirs professionally decorated. I could tell by the windows, floors and moldings this was one of those. The hallway had two doors, both of which were closed. I reached for the one with music blaring behind it and hesitated. This is wrong, I thought, right before I turned the knob and opened the door.
Roses, by the Chainsmokers surrounded me as I paused in the doorway of what appeared to be Cathryn’s bedroom. My eyes were immediately drawn to the walls. I’d never seen this color grey before. Turn around and leave, my brain screamed. Ignoring my better judgement, I stepped inside to take a further look around. Like her living room, Cathryn’s bedroom was warm and inviting. White Fuzzy pillows and an enticingly fluffy comforter covered the bed. Movement at the foot of the bed caught my eye and I glanced down. My whole body froze. There, to my surprise, wearing nothing but a sports bra and panties lay my half-naked PA. The purple exercise mat clued me in as to what she was doing but it took my brain a minute to process. As Maroon 5’s Sugar began playing she inhaled and switched positions. Voyeurism was not my thing but I could not tear my eyes away, especially when she began moving her body to the beat of the music. I was entranced. What is she doing? I wouldn’t quite call it Yoga. Maybe Pilates? Whatever it was, it was mesmerizing. Slowly, she lowered her chest to the mat and lifted her ass in the air. I nearly swallowed my tongue when she began rhythmically pumping her hips up and down. Apparently my plain Jane PA was much more than she appeared to be. How had I missed this? I watched as she fluidly shifted from one position to another and couldn’t help but notice her hard little nipples popping through the fabric of her sports bra. An overwhelming urge to touch her came over me and I took a step toward her. Then I caught myself. What the fuck am I doing? Glancing down at the tent in my pajama bottoms, I flinched. This was bad, as in seriously messed up. I was not getting a boner for my assistant. I didn’t even like her. I have to get out of here. I turned to escape and ran straight into her dresser. Something loudly crashed onto the floor and I heard a gasp from behind me. Keep going, I told myself.
“Zane, what are you doing? How did you get into my apartment?” her voice called from behind me.
The last thing I needed was for her to see me sporting a boner. After the show she’d just given, though, I’d have to be blind not to react. I paused with my hand on the door and glanced over my shoulder to where she was standing. Thank God she was wearing a robe. “I, uh, knocked on your door and when you didn’t answer I got worried.” I was surprised I could string two words together, much less a complete sentence. My throbbing cock was a major distraction.
A concerned look appeared on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Are you okay? Is there something specific you need?” Her obvious concern for me made me feel like a shmuck.
Why yes, Cathryn, I need to permanently erase your gyrating ass from my brain. Scrambling for something to say, I told her Miss Weston in apartment B was looking for her. She cocked her head and gave me a strange look. I tried not to notice how attractive she was with her hair up or how long and feminine her neck was. I really needed to get out of here. No, what I really needed was to get laid.
“Oh, okay,” she hesitantly said. I could tell she had something working behind her pretty blue eyes but there was no way in hell I was waiting around to see what it was. It was way past time to get me and my hard dick out of her apartment STAT.
“Okay, well, I need to go get ready for a meeting,” I lied. “The list is on my desk. I’ll talk to you later.” Before she could reply, I was out the door. As if the devil was on my heels, I sprinted down the hall, pounded down the stairs and thrust my key into my lock. Once safely inside my apartment, I closed the door, locked it behind me and collapsed against it. By the way I was panting you would think I was a pack-a-day smoker. What a fucking nightmare. The vision of Cathryn pumping her ass up and down to the music played over and over in my head. Closing my eyes, I thumped the back of my head on the door a few times in hopes of knocking the image from my brain. When that didn’t work, I slid my hand inside my pajama bottoms and wrapped my fingers around my hard cock. I would never be able to listen to Sugar again without thinking of Cathryn. I liked Maroon 5, dammit! With a hiss of anger I released my dick and pushed off my door. Fuck this. I’m horny, not desperate. I stormed into my office, grabbed my cell phone and scrolled down my list of contacts. When I found the name I was looking for I hit send.
“My, my, you are up bright and early,” the sexy voice on the other end answered.
“Hey babe, I need to see you tonight,” I told her.
“Well, lucky for you I am available,” she purred.
After agreeing to meet at my place around midnight, I took a quick shower and was out the door before Cathryn showed up at nine. I managed to put her out of my mind for most of the day. By the time I left work that night I’d convinced myself it was sex deprivation. I just needed to get laid, that was all. On the way home a song by Maroon 5 came on the radio and once again this morning’s incident was front and center. My dick stirred in my pants and I growled.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter Seven
Cathryn
‡
What in the world just happened? One minute I was doing my Ploga and the next my boss was running from my bedroom like his pants were on fire. Why was he even in my bedroom in the first place? I thought about what Zane must have seen me doing and flushed with embarrassment.
When I was twelve, my mother decided to take a break from me and my dad. She kissed me goodbye one morning and when I got home from school that afternoon she was gone. Right before my fourteenth birthday she reappeared out of the blue. After several days of “working it out” Dad took her back and for six months we were a happy family again. The
n she started acting weird. She would disappear for hours on end without telling anyone where she was going. A few times she flat out forgot to pick me up from school. On the drive home from school one afternoon she approached me about moving to Florida. When I asked about Dad’s job she informed me he would not be joining us. She claimed it was our little secret. I immediately knew something was wrong. The scared little girl in me, the one who’d lost her mother once before, wanted to go with her. However, the practical young woman I was becoming knew I couldn’t. My mother had abandoned me once already. Who was to say she wouldn’t do it again? When I told Dad about our conversation he was devastated. Then he got angry. Within weeks my parents were officially divorced and my mother was gone, this time for good. Any way you sliced it, the result was always going to be her leaving. Dad just made sure she didn’t take me or his money with her the second time around.
My mother leaving the first time was bad but the second time it was devastating. I fell apart. I didn’t cry or get angry. I didn’t talk about my feelings. I ate. Cakes, candy, carbs, you name it, I ate it. For most of two years I ate away the pain. When Dad started dating Janna I was a size fourteen. All it took was one look and Janna knew I was in serious trouble. My stepmother may be pushy and annoying, and Lord knows the woman cannot keep a secret to save her life, but whatever her faults, I forgive her. I forgive her because when I was drowning in self-loathing she saved me. Not only did she get my father to send me to counseling, she taught me the value of exercise and eating healthy. She made me see how much I mattered. All those afternoons she dragged me off the sofa and made me do Yoga, Pilates and Zumba paid off in a surprisingly short amount of time. Within six months I was a completely different person, thanks to her. Twelve years later, I still exercised once a day and tried to eat healthy foods as much as possible. Today happened to be my Pilates-Yoga combo, I nicknamed Ploga.
I dropped my head to my hands in embarrassment. Why did Zane have to see me doing Ploga? I thought about what he said when I asked what he was doing in my apartment, and quickly my embarrassment dissolved into anger. This was the second time this week he’d asked me to “handle” Miss Weston. I’m sorry things were going sour with his love life. Actually, I wasn’t. He shouldn’t be with her in the first place. However, if he didn’t want to be with her anymore, he should tell her. I am not getting involved. Nosiree, if you lie down with cougars and get mauled, it’s your own damn fault.
By the time I showered and made it down to Zane’s apartment for my nine on the dot check in, he was gone. I was so relieved he wasn’t there I did a happy jig right in the middle of his office. The image of him checking his nanny cam and busting me dancing sobered me right up and I quickly got on with my business. On my way out the door I noticed he’d left another basket of dirty clothes at the foot of the stairs. I started to separate them for the wash and then stopped myself. Why do I keep doing the man’s laundry? He hired me to be his assistant, not his maid. I should march it over to Miss Weston and have her do it. With a snort of humor, I tossed the dirty clothes back in the basket. Zane can do his own laundry today.
On my way back up to my apartment my phone rang. I glanced to make sure it wasn’t Zane and was relieved to see it was Blake calling.
“Hey Blake, what’s up?” I answered.
“We are celebrating at Whisky’s tonight and I want you there,” he said.
“What are we celebrating?” I asked.
“You are talking to the new part owner of a beer distributorship, baby!”
As I reached my apartment I noticed Mr. Brass standing outside my door. I held up my finger telling him to hold on for a second. I knew nothing about beer distributorships, except they had the potential to make a lot of money. “Congratulations, that’s fabulous, Blake! Look, I have to go but I can’t wait to celebrate with you! I’ll be at Whisky’s a little after nine, okay?” After congratulating him again, I hung up and smiled at Mr. Brass. “Hi, Mr. Brass, what brings you to my door today?”
He held up my Tupperware container. “I wanted to return this. The cookies were absolutely marvelous and please, call me Rich. Mr. Brass makes me sound so old.”
As I passed by him, I snagged the Tupperware container and opened my door. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”
“I would but I have Duck Dynasty paused on the television.”
“Oh, okay, well, thanks for returning the Tupperware. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
His eyes twinkled. “Now that you ask, my Great Aunt Bula used to make the best chocolate chip banana bread. That was before she was hit by a bus. Sad to say she didn’t survive. You wouldn’t happen to know how to make banana bread, would you?”
Oh my God, the poor man! Not only did his daughter die but his great aunt, too? Talk about bad luck. The last thing I needed to do was make this man banana bread. I started to tell him, no, but the hopeful look on his face stopped me. “I suppose I can make you some on Sunday,” I told him.
He clapped his hands together in glee. “I look forward to it. If there is anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask.” With a spring in his step, he turned and walked away.
Yep, just call me sucker.
The rest of the day was a breeze. For once, Zane had given me a light list of things to do. After pondering it, I concluded that this morning’s incident must have rattled him. The thought of Zane being rattled by little ole me made me smile. At least he didn’t pour hot coffee on me while I was sleeping naked in my bed. In my opinion, we were now officially even.
Around eight, I started getting ready. I had been to Whisky’s a few times before but never at night. I was excited to see the place up and running. Sick and tired of wearing business clothes, I decided on a pair of black wide legged shorts that tied in the front and a white, short sleeve, boat neck ballet top. It was tight but in a flattering way. Instead of wearing my hair down I curled it and then pulled it up into a high ponytail. I left a few curly pieces down to frame my face. I decided on old school glam for my makeup. By the time I was done it was five after nine and I was officially off the clock. Slipping on some silver jewelry and my black two inch heeled sandals, I grabbed my purse and practically danced out the door. It had been weeks since I’d been out. I’d really missed it.
Whisky’s is a two story warehouse in an area of Charlotte known as Plaza-Midwood. It sits in the middle of a four block business district and has restaurants and bars flanking it. Tonight the place was packed. It took me twenty minutes to find a parking space and, by the time I made it through the door, I was ready for a drink. First, though, I had to get my bearings. Whisky’s during the day was a completely different place than at night. The Dungeon was almost unrecognizable. Daft Punk’s Get Lucky echoed off the walls. I wanted to plug my ears it was so loud. Directly to my left was the bar. Across the room and to my right was a giant dance floor. People were everywhere. The strobe lights from the dance floor made the bar look as if it was glowing. I really liked the effect but it was somewhat dizzying to the senses. During the daylight hours the bar was downright sedate. In fact, on my two previous visits Country music had been playing.
“Are you going in or are you going to stand here all night?” the girl next to me shouted, and I realized I was clogging up the entry.
“Oh, sorry!” I told her. With a deep breath I made my way over to the bar. As I got closer I spotted Blake and veered in his direction. I slid between two couples and waited for him to notice me. While waiting, I took in my surroundings. Zane had done right by this place. I wondered if he was here tonight. If so, I really did not want to run into him. Maybe he’s home washing his clothes. The thought made me smile.
Get Lucky switched to a funky version of Hollaback Girl and the couple to my right vacated their barstools for the dance floor. I waited for a second to see if they were coming back and then decided to hell with it and sat down. Another minute passed before Blake’s fellow bartender noticed me. She was a tiny little thing with funky hair
and multiple tattoos and piercings. She said something to Blake and his eyes darted over to where I was sitting. I smiled and gave him a little wave. He said something back to her and they both headed my way.
“Cat, this is Sally. Sally, this is my stepsister Cathryn,” Blake introduced.
“I didn’t know you had a stepsister,” she scolded.
Blake gave her a friendly nudge. “Well, if you’d been around more lately, you’d know that Cat is Zane’s new PA.” Sally’s eyes shot to my face. Slowly she scanned me from head to toe.
I felt a surge of jealousy. Is she sizing me up? I think she is. Oh good Lord, don’t tell me Zane is doing her, too? The guy is freaking prolific.
“Hi,” I said.
“What are you having?” Blake asked.
“Surprise me,” I told him.
A minute or so later he placed a strange green colored drink in front of me. I stared down at it and noticed tiny chunks of something floating in it. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him to surprise me. “What is it?” I asked.
“The Hulk. Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” he assured me.
The Hulk turned out to be sweet but tasty. I told myself the chunks were kiwi. As I sipped it, I watched Blake and Sally work the bar. They seemed to be good friends. Maybe I had it all wrong? Maybe Sally wasn’t giving me the evil eye because of Zane but has a thing for Blake? A tiny part of me hoped this was the case.
I was well into my second Hulk when I felt someone’s eyes on me. It wasn’t Blake because he was standing in front of me talking to a customer. Slowly, I turned my head and scanned the bar. Sally was also helping a customer and everyone else was either drinking or dancing. Trying not to be too obvious, I swiveled my stool around and browsed the room or, at least, what I could see of the room. After a minute or so I was about to give up and call it my imagination, when I saw him.