An Affair Across Times Square

by Rachell Nicole

  “Oh, you know what I mean.” She tried to soften her voice, to play it off as a nice big joke, though he knew how she felt. “You know I don’t lob you in with those assholes. It’s just that statements like that are what allow nasty defense attorneys to unleash criminals onto our streets.”

  He pulled her into a half hug. “I know. I was just busting your balls.”

  “Hmm. Last I checked I didn’t have any of those.” She stopped, made a point of looking down at her crotch. “Uh…yup. Still ball-less.” And spineless.

  “Oh, chica, you got the biggest balls of any chick I ever met. I can promise you that. And that assessment includes all the queens in New York.”

  She laughed. Then his face turned serious.

  “So, if you’re worried about getting him in trouble…”

  “It ends there. That’s it. I can’t see him anymore. The end.”

  He pushed his lips into a straight line. “So much for happily ever after,” he mumbled.

  She forced a smile and shrugged. Yeah, so much for that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tyler pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and looked at the screen. Mom. It would do no good to ignore her. She’d just keep calling. He pushed the button and held his cell to his ear.

  “How long have you known?” his mother said. No hello, no introduction of any kind. He sighed and looked around Central Park. The perfect end to the perfect fucking day. Yet the sun wouldn’t set for several more hours, so he still had plenty of time to suffer.

  “Well, hello to you too. Good to hear from you. I miss you too.” He continued to walk away from Ms. Marietta and out of the park.

  “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Of course I do want to talk to you. I just… Damn her. How could she go and fall in love with some kid? And get knocked up. And engaged!”

  “Mom. Please. It’s not like she’s sixteen and stupid. She’s an adult, and she can handle this. And I didn’t know anything until yesterday.” She could handle it, he repeated again to himself as he moved from the cool shade into the oppressive heat of the New York sun.

  His mother huffed. “Okay. You’re right. I’m being stupid but…” Her voice sounded so soft. Lost.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What if she doesn’t come home? What if I don’t get to raise my grandbaby?” She would start crying soon if he didn’t reassure her.

  “It’s okay. Even if she does want to live there after her one-year contract is up, it’s not as if she won’t come home. It’s not as if you’ll only see her once every five years and get an occasional call or letter. You know her better than that. And you know she won’t want to raise the baby if you can’t be part of his or her life.”

  He thought he sounded convincing, but a soft sob echoed in his ear. He needed to give her something else to focus on. He searched through his head. Something to do with work? No. He couldn’t talk much about the case. And telling her he almost had enough credit and money to back his leaving within the year would make her worse. She just needed something to hold her attention for a while. An image of Ms. Marietta popped into his head.

  Could he tell his mother about the woman from the hotel with enough finesse that she wouldn’t know all the details? Of course he could. He was a lawyer, after all.

  “Don’t be so sad. It’s going to be okay. Promise. But there’s some stuff I need to talk to you about. Can you meet me for an early dinner in, like, an hour?” His stomach grumbled. He switched directions on the street, heading downtown, the scalding sun scorching the back of his neck.

  She coughed once and sniffled. “Yes. That sounds great. But let’s make it an hour and a half. Is everything okay at work?”

  “Yeah, work’s great.” Sort of. Well, not really, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

  “Is it about your father’s case? Tyler, I thought you had let that go. You promised me you wouldn’t let it jeopardize your studies when you started your second year over at Harvard. And it didn’t. I’m really proud of you for that, but don’t let it ruin your career. You need to focus on your work and your future. Not the past. You know he wouldn’t want that.” Her voice had turned to steel, all sadness forgotten between one blink of her eyes and the next.

  “I know. It’s not about the case.” He didn’t need the reminder. He’d thought about it almost every day since forcing himself to let it go five years ago. Some days it killed him not to go back to it, but he knew he would become obsessed again. He wouldn’t let that happen. He clutched his briefcase in his sweaty hand and took a deep breath. “It’s, uh… It’s actually about a woman. Honestly, I’m having girl troubles.”

  Her pause let him know he had her full attention. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

  He knew which one. “Okay. Thanks. See you soon.” With that he hung up the phone and hopped on the subway. He wouldn’t have time to get all the way back to his apartment and change and make it all the way back downtown in time to get a table on a Saturday. He’d need a stiff drink or two before he sat down to talk to her anyway.

  Just over an hour later, he sat at the bar, sipping his second gin and tonic, waiting for his mom to show up. He’d put his sweater back on in the full-blast air-conditioning. His mom walked in the door a few minutes later, looking as polished as ever, and he was glad he hadn’t been waiting in his T-shirt. He stood, the glass in one hand and his briefcase in the other, and moved through the crowd to meet her at the door. The maître d’ showed them to a table, and they sat.

  “So tell me about this woman.” Never one for BS, his mother.

  “Well…here’s the thing. I only kind of know her.”

  She raised her eyebrows. Oh, boy, this might have been a bad idea. Yup, a horrible idea in the midst of an even worse day. She’d be able to see right through anything he said if it wasn’t the straight-up truth. He should have known better.

  “How can you ‘only kind of’ know her?”

  The restaurant gods granted him a few moments’ thinking time as the waiter came to take their drink orders. He would have perused a menu, but his mother would see through the stalling tactic. Ten years of coming to the same place meant you didn’t need to look at the menu.

  “She’s a guest at the Marietta. I met her two days ago.” Met wasn’t exactly the right word, but it would do. “And we started communicating. Through signs.” God, it sounded so lame. “And we’ve talked on the phone.” More or less. “But I can’t get her to tell me her name or much about herself. It’s like every time I get too close, she shuts me down. It’s stupid to want to pursue anything serious with her. I’m not even sure how long she’s staying in town. But I can’t seem to get her out of my head. I think I’m going mental.” Now he regretted putting the sweater back on. His temperature rose another six degrees under his mother’s scrutiny.

  The waiter brought their drinks and took their dinner orders, and his mom just sat there in silence. Watching him. He wanted to squirm under her knowing gaze. She knew he was leaving parts out of the story, but she looked inclined to let him slide. Thank God. Because he would not explain that part of the situation.

  “What is it about her that has you so wound up? Look at you. You’re downright jittery. Baby, I’ve never seen you like this.”

  He resisted the urge to sit on his hands, but still had to grab a piece of bread and dip it in olive oil to keep his fingers busy. He shrugged and lifted the warm bread to his mouth. The thick taste coated his tongue.

  “She just gets under my skin somehow. It’s like I have to get to know her better. Like a compulsion to see her more.” He sounded obsessed. And maybe he was, but he couldn’t shake this feeling.

  “Is she worth it? A woman like that sounds like she might be playing head games. And if she’s staying at the hotel, who knows? She’s probably not looking for anything serious.”

  A truth he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. But as the hours ticked by, he thought about it more and more. Maybe he wanted it to be.
Did her insistence about keeping him at arm’s length make him more interested in her, unable to focus on anything else?

  “I don’t think it’s head games. It seems more like she’s…shy.” Not exactly the truth either. She was the least shy person he’d ever met…at first. But yesterday, when she’d opened the curtain, biting her lip, she hadn’t looked like she wanted to play some mind game or pique his interest just to string him along. She’d looked shy. Unsure of herself. He wanted to get to know more about that woman. The one who could be brazen and sexual one day and adorable and timid the next.

  His mother’s face softened. “Well, if you think it’s just that she’s staying distant because of that, maybe it would be a good idea for you to pursue her. It’s been a long time since you came to your mama to talk about girls, Tyler. So listen up good.”

  He nodded. The waiter brought their food, and they began eating as his mom continued.

  “You better make sure she’s not out to break your heart, or I’ll have to kick her ass. But the only way you’re going to find out is if she lets you get close enough. Which means you have to woo her. Now it’s been a while since your mama was wooed, I’ll tell you, but it ain’t changed much in thirty-five years. You find something she says that’s meaningful to her, significant in some way. It can be something simple she mentions in passing. Like the fact that she loves lilies. Or that she had this favorite song as a kid and always used to sing it to make herself happy. Anything. A joke or a moment that you share. Sometimes it’s something real subtle, so you sit up straight and you take notice. And then it’s time for the Big Gesture.”

  He nodded. He’d been raised by a woman. Had a great younger sister. He knew something about the way women thought. Something about the subtle differences in how to react when a woman said something. But this…this intrigued him even more. Like the way he would approach a case, broken down into details. You waited, and you looked, and you listened until the prosecutor said something you could pounce on. Something that put all the pieces together. Something that you threw back in their faces and thrust into the harsh light of day for the jury to examine. He could do that. He knew how to do that.

  “Now the gesture is going to depend on the special thing. And on the woman. If she likes flashy, it should be something physically big or expensive-ish. You know, like marriage-proposal-on-the-scoreboard big. But if she’s more into simpler things like heartfelt poetry, it needs to be something small or private but no less emotionally big.” His mother continued eating as if she hadn’t just given him the keys to the castle. The How Women Think handbook. Almost like looking behind the curtain at the magic show. Some of the mystique vanished now that he’d thought about it. But he’d never wooed like this before.

  They continued to eat and discussed some daily-life events, though he avoided all details of the case. And they didn’t talk about Mandy at all. When they finished, he thanked her, and she kissed him lightly on the cheek, reaching up to give his big shoulders a squeeze.

  “I hope the girl’s worth all the trouble, baby. I know you don’t do anything by halves.”

  He smiled and pulled her into a warm hug. “Thanks, Ma.”

  “You’re welcome, baby. You call me and let me know how it’s going, okay?”

  “Of course.” He waved good-bye to her as they parted ways.

  He’d thought about what she said through the rest of dinner and continued to mull it over on his way home. What did he have to go on from Ms. Marietta that would soften her toward him?

  An idea formed in his head. It would be perfect. He just had to figure out what room she was in first.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Don’t kill me,” Eddie said from beside Layla as he joined her in the elevator bank. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows higher than usual. Worry lines crossed his brow. She pushed 18 on the keypad and waited for the stupid machine to tell her which elevator to get into, then turned to face him.

  “What did you do?” She rubbed her eyes. Sunday had been a long-ass day alone at the office. She just wanted to go upstairs, take a hot bath, and go to bed. Without opening the curtains.

  “It’s for your own good. And I love you.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead and gave her a little push into the elevator. “Good night.” He smiled and backed up.

  What the hell? The doors closed before she could react. She’d have to get out and call another elevator to go back downstairs and figure out what he was talking about. Which was exactly why he’d waited until she stood in the elevator bank to catch up with her. Sneaky little shit. She got off at the eighteenth floor and debated going down again, but she was just too sapped. She could always call for him to come up and receive his proper bitch slapping after she learned what he’d done that he was so sure would piss her off. He knew her well. If he thought she was going to get mad, he was probably right.

  So she walked down the long hallway to her room and stopped at what she saw on the door. A note in handwriting she recognized. No. No fucking way.

  She stared at the paper until she was positive she wasn’t going to kill anyone over it. Then she snatched it off and ran her finger over the name on the front. Ms. Marietta.

  She read the scribbled script.

  Dear Ms. Marietta,

  First let me say I did not break any rules. I spoke to a very polite man at reception about a good friend of mine in room 1823 that I wanted to leave a surprise for. I did not ask him for your name, per your wishes, nor did I accompany anyone to the room after they told me you would be back later this afternoon. I handed him a list of instructions and hoped they would be followed. If you’re reading this note, it means they were.

  Secondly let me say that while I realize this borders on stalker tendencies, I felt it was worth the risk of scaring you away. I have never been quite so amazed or intrigued by a single person in my lifetime, and I was anxious to let you know that in any way I could.

  Thirdly, and finally, please go into your hotel room at your leisure, and if/when you are ready, please open the curtain and join me for dinner through the window at seven o’clock.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Times Square

  He was out of his freaking mind! No way. Her hands shook as she held the letter, as she forced herself to reread it. He hadn’t broken any rules. He still didn’t know her name. How had he found her room number? Yup, definitely bordering on stalker tendencies. So why didn’t she run right downstairs to the concierge? Why did her stomach clench into a tight knot of anticipation? Why did she want nothing more than to throw the door open and jump in the shower, then pick out her favorite little black dress and put it on?

  She took a deep breath. She couldn’t open the door. It would make her as crazy as him. She’d tried this whole pseudorelationship thing, tried to let go and let it play out and be a little wild. But now… Oh, God, he wanted dinner? Someone could have seen them before, at any time. She still didn’t know if that man in his office had seen her with her legs spread open wide and her hand between her thighs. She felt her face burning at the thought. She could put herself on display for Mr. Times Square. She could not parade around in front of strangers like some porn star or stripper.

  That thought terrified her. Mr. Times Square was a stranger. Or he had been a few short days ago. Thinking of him as something other than a man she didn’t know was not acceptable. She couldn’t just have sex with a random stranger, but she was having sex with him, despite the lack of physical contact. There must have been something about him that pulled her in, made her let her guard down, even just a tiny bit. So she would open the door. She pushed the key card into the lock and stepped over the threshold.

  As the door clicked closed behind her, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Roses and lavender. She clicked on a light. Oh…my. She couldn’t finish the thought. There were six bouquets of pale yellow roses, with sprigs of lavender stuck between the stems, placed on the tables throughout the living room area of her suite. The one closest to her held
a note. She picked it up with trembling fingers.

  I didn’t know what kinds of flowers you liked. Yellow roses have always been my sister’s favorite. Lavender’s my mom’s.

  She set the card on the table and turned in a slow circle. A screen stood by the windows, preventing her from seeing what lay behind it. She wanted to look, but it might make her lose her nerve, and she wanted to do this. He hadn’t broken any rules, and the curtains were still closed.

  He was bonkers. But she turned on her music and went into the bathroom to get ready for their date anyway. She only had an hour. A date. With a man whose name she didn’t even know. Maybe she was bonkers. She plugged up the tub and ran a bath, sweeping her hair up into a wrap. She rummaged around for some lavender bath oil. It seemed appropriate. She got into the hot water and tried to pretend her entire body didn’t shake.

  The knot that had settled in her stomach attempted flight. Like lead butterflies flopped around in there. Twenty minutes later, as she stared into the wardrobe, they still hadn’t subsided. And now her lip was raw from chewing on it. Layla gave herself a physical shake. Get it together, woman. It wasn’t like she’d never been on a first date before.

  But this wasn’t a standard first date.

  She snatched her favorite little black dress out of the closet. Would stockings and heels be too much? She thought back to their third encounter, when he’d asked her to put her shoes and glasses back on. Nope. Heels would definitely not be too much, but she’d leave the glasses on the sink for tonight. Layla walked into the bathroom and hung the dress on the back of the door and then opened the drawers to the sink to get all her makeup out. She placed each eye shadow and lipstick on the counter and started making decisions. Base and powder went on her mocha skin first. Then a healthy sweep of dark eye shadow smudged along her bottom lash line. She poked herself in the eye twice.