Under the Cornerstone

by Sasha Marshall

  I board my flight and hours later land in sunny California. Mr. Bradbury had a driver meet me and take me to an upscale hotel. It’s modern and sleek. I love the architecture and interior design. It doesn’t feel like home, but it feels new and it looks so different from New York. It is a change, and I need a change along with the distance.

  “Mr. Bradbury has booked you in the Presidential Suite,” his driver informs me. “If the accommodations are not to your liking, he has requested you notify him immediately. Mr. Bradbury owns the hotel and has informed the staff, they are to ensure all of your needs are met for the remainder of your stay. If that is not the case, please notify him.”

  The man spoke so properly. I was going to have to attempt to tame my Brooklyn accent.

  “Thank you,” I say and exited the vehicle.

  He grabs my suitcases, and twenty minutes later I’m inside the Presidential Suite feeling somewhat like a celebrity as I look around at the spacious, posh suite. Mr. Bradbury wouldn’t need to worry one bit about my comfort.

  Two Months Later

  “Noely, what do you think about the color scheme for the tables and linens?” Alex asks me.

  The man is intense. Sometimes I think he’s made of stone. He has this sharp jaw and even sharper cheek bones. His eyes are the color of honey, and his body is toned to perfection. He often wears dark suits, but when he takes his suit jacket off, I have to remind myself to keep my eyes to myself. His ass is made of all the things women dream of when they want to hold onto something while they’re being fucked. His hair is as black as a raven, and the dark scruff on his face makes his whiskey-colored eyes even more vibrant.

  He is Johnny’s exact opposite in personality and looks. Johnny is blonde-haired and blue-eyed to Alex’s dark features. Johnny is lean where Alex has wide shoulders and an intimidating height. Johnny parties and lives life like it’s always his last day on earth. Alex is all business. I make sure to wear long sleeves to work each day to hide my tattoos. I’m able to work out of the restaurant and from my hotel room. Alex is demanding. He’s easy enough to work with, but he says what he thinks. Not in the way Johnny did, though. Alex will tell you with eloquence and at times, with a vocabulary so extensive that I have to remember my SAT words. He demands perfection, and I’m okay with that since I’m a perfectionist.

  We work well together. I offer my opinions when asked and he respects my input. He values it, and often uses my suggestions. He takes me seriously. I end up taking over designing the restaurant, which I’ve never done before. He also puts me in charge of hiring a chef to design the menu. I’ll design the napkins, coasters, frontage sign, uniforms, and anything else Alex asks. I’ve never worked as a project designer, but I enjoy the experience so far.

  L.A. has been kind to me. It’s a melting pot much like New York, but something about the palm trees, sun, and beaches puts me at ease when I need it most. Johnny calls for a month after I left Brooklyn. His last message said he was writing me off. He said I’d broken his heart. That hurt, but it’s best we break each other’s hearts when we did, instead of months or years down the road. I still talk to Rich, Ryan, Jimmy, Carmine, Sabrina, and Roxy. We don’t mention Johnny. It’s an unspoken rule. We all pretend I didn’t run away from New York. No one asks why I ran. I’m not sure if they understand without the words or if they’re waiting for the moment when I’m ready to talk about it.

  “I think you should go with scarlet. You’ve ensured every component of this design is reflective of the era. If you go with white or black, it would wash out the visual experience at the table. The floors and bar are extremely dark. The linens should bring color to the room. I think you should use scarlet and gold in the cigar room for the furniture and accent pieces as well,” I reply.

  He quirks a smile at me showing a dimple, “I love that you get the vision.”

  I nod and advise him, “I’ve made appointments with four of the city’s top chefs for you to meet with over the next two weeks.”

  “That’s great, Noely,” he looks at me with those intense eyes.

  “Thanks. I’m heading out. If you need anything, just text or call,” I tell him.

  “Hey,” he says and reaches out to me. “Have you… have you had dinner?”

  He looks like a different person right now. He doesn’t exactly resemble the man I’ve worked closely with for two months. He looks unsure of himself, and insecure is not an adjective I would ever use to describe Alex Bradbury.

  “No. I was going to stop for something on the way home.”

  “Let me take you out to a place I know. You’ve worked so hard and you flew to L.A. at the last minute to help me with this. It’s the least I could do to say thank you,” he holds my gaze.

  I smile up at him, “You’re paying me very well. That’s thanks enough.”

  “Don’t make a man eat alone tonight,” he chuckles.

  “Well, when you put it like that… “

  “I have a reputation to uphold and all. It’s expected of me to eat my meals with beautiful women. I’d look pitiful if I ask for a table for one,” he winks.

  My stomach growls on cue.

  “I guess we have your answer,” he says in a playful tone I’ve never heard.

  I laugh, “I guess so. Should I change?”

  “No. What you’re wearing is fine.”

  He escorts me out to an expensive car. I’ve never owned a car since there’s nowhere to park in New York, so I have no idea what the car is, but it’s sporty and sleek. It screams elegance at the same time. Alex opens my door for me, so I smile up at him and then and thank him.

  “Buckle up,” he commands as he shuts my door.

  The ride to the restaurant is a little tense with silence, but I try not to show it. I guess he makes me a little nervous.

  He pulls up to the valet stand, hands a guy his keys, and opens my door for me. He offers his hand to help me out, so I accept it. When he shuts the door, his hand lands at my lower back as we make our way to the hostess stand.

  “Mr. Bradbury, I was able to get you a table for two tonight,” the woman says.

  She eyes him up and down.

  I know. He’s hot.

  His hand remains at my lower back as we walk to the back of the restaurant. He pulls my chair out at the table.

  And they say chivalry is dead. A girl could get used to being treated like a queen.

  I imagine myself with a massive crown on my head and let out a chuckle.

  “What’s funny?” he asks as he sits down across from me.

  “Nothing. I… I just have these thoughts sometimes that make me laugh.”

  He quirks an eyebrow, “Do tell.”

  “Ah, I assure you, digging around in my brain might be adverse to your health.”

  He gives me a hint of a smirk, “I’m sure it’s not that bad. What is it? Daddy issues? Broken heart? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it all.”

  “Both?” I smile back in an attempt not to look ashamed at my issues.

  “Is your dad in your life?”

  “No. He left when I was a kid and created a new family in the same city. My mom died when I was twelve. I fell in love with my best friend, and I ran away to California to heal,” I word vomit.

  “Ah. Love is full of blurry lines. There are so many types of love and sometimes those lines fade and blur. It can be confusing to the heart and hell on the mind. Sometimes you aren’t sure where the lines begin and end.”

  “Wow. Well said. It sounds like you’ve had personal experience,” I reply.

  “My heart was broken six years ago. I was engaged. I found her with my best friend in my bed two weeks before the wedding. I lost the woman I loved and my best friend of twenty years in a matter of seconds,” he admits.

  “Shit,” is my response.

  He lets out a humorless laugh, “Yeah. Look, I don’t usually tell people my personal business…”

  “Neither do I,” I interrupt
him.

  “Stays between us?” he asks.

  “Of course. I don’t need the entire world knowing how pathetic I am again,” I shrug.

  “Again?”

  I explain Blood Feather, the guys, Tony, and Johnny over dinner. I give him a synopsis of my life story. He tells me more about the woman he loved, and that eventually loving someone you can’t have even when they offer themselves to you gets easier with time.

  We drink wine, and eventually he takes me home. I ask him to drop me at the front of the hotel to make it easier on both of us in this horrible traffic.

  “Noely,” he grabs my wrist as I open my door. “You’re beautiful, smart, and witty. There aren’t many women who possess all three of those attributes. You’re a diamond in the rough. You deserve to come first. Don’t ever settle for less.”

  I give him a sideways grin, “Thank you. I won’t.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Two Months Later

  Two more months pass by and my time in L.A. is coming to an end. The restaurant is due to open in two weeks. Alex asks me to stay on two weeks after the opening to help with any issues that might arise.

  We’ve become close friends. While his attractiveness is still unnerving at times, he never crosses any professional or friendly lines. We eat late dinners together a lot. Most nights it’s takeout eaten over work. Sometimes we take small breaks for our sanity, and hang out in parks or even watch old movies in a small theater not far from the restaurant.

  One Sunday, he takes me to San Pedro to hike to the Sunken City. In 1929, a landslide caused houses, streets, streetcar tracks and sidewalks to fall into the Pacific Ocean. We have to crawl over a large cement wall, and then over a metal fence to reach the Sunken City. It’s surreal to see what Mother Nature can do when she decides to swallow you whole. Life once existed here. What is now in the ocean and jumbled at the edge of it was once inhabited by families, and driven on by cars. Street cars traveled up and down where we stand. Alex surprises me as he unloads paint supplies from his backpack and tells me to paint to my heart’s desire. Several other murals already surround the area. Graffiti tags cover other areas, so I smile and leave my own mark.

  I draw half of me in Brooklyn, half in California. I draw my Brooklyn side in tattoos and ripped jeans. I draw snow coming down on me while I hold an empty bloody hand outstretching towards Johnny, who isn’t in the picture. But he doesn’t need to be there because he’s a ghost who haunts me. My heart is where I left it, with him. On the left side, I draw my California side in a pantsuit. The background is filled with palm trees, the ocean, and sunshine. My bloody hand hangs beside my body and my heart lays at my feet, because even if I wanted it back it wasn’t mine anymore. California won’t ever give it back to me.

  We eat sandwiches and drink beer while I paint. Alex lays on a blanket and reads a book. He looks more at peace than I’ve ever seen him. When he discovers the tattoos on my portrait, he makes me push up my sleeve and show him. Then he smiles and pulls his Henley over his head to reveal a body full of art. Both of his arms and his entire chest and stomach are covered. I gasp and instinctively trace the lines of his art. It’s beautiful.

  He smiles down at me, “You can’t ever really judge a book by its cover, can you?”

  “No. I guess you can’t. I never would’ve guessed,” I admit.

  “It’s art.”

  “It is, and it’s beautiful,” I reply.

  “So are yours. Banksy?”

  “Yes.”

  After the day at the Sunken City, Alex opens up more and seems to relax a little more each day. We each begin to wear more casual clothes to work on the days we don’t have business meetings, and our tattoos shine as brightly as they were meant to. We laugh a lot, but there are times when I can see him drift off and the heartache he experienced six years ago seems so fresh on his face. He still hurts. I drift off sometimes myself, and the look on his face seems to be what it feels like inside.

  I’m sitting at the table, finalizing details on a few designs when my phone rings. Jimmy’s goofy face appears on my phone screen.

  Blood Feather is climbing the charts and the guys are attracting a cult following. The women go crazy over the guys, but hey, they were a good looking trio. They were getting a lot of radio play and even more media coverage. As they grew over the last four months, they were pushed higher on the bills and now open right before the headliner. That’s a big deal. They were growing so fast, much faster than other bands ever do.

  Alex sees Jimmy’s ridiculous expression on the phone and chuckles, “Take it.”

  He’s never met or spoken to Jimmy, but I’ve recounted enough stories about Jimmy Crawford.

  I put it on speaker, “Yo.”

  “Noely baby! My God, it feels like an eternity since I’ve heard your phone sex voice,” he says with his thick Brooklyn accent.

  Alex snorts with laughter.

  “Jimmy Boo!” I greet back.

  “Cut that shit out,” he replies.

  “You’re my Jimmy Boo,” I tell him.

  “Okay. I’ll be your Jimmy Boo. Don’t say that shit in public. I’m a big ass man. You don’t call manly men like me Jimmy Boo.”

  “Right,” I smile.

  “Miss your face, Noles.”

  “I miss your face too.”

  “How’s California?” he asks.

  “Sunny, relaxing, and the work is fulfilling.”

  “We’re playing L.A. in ten days. You’ll be there right?”

  I frown at my phone, and get lost in my head. I want to see my favorite band play, but I don’t want to dredge up any feelings I’ve managed to numb or bury over the last four months. I don’t know if I can see him right now. I don’t feel strong enough.

  “Noely, don’t do this,” Jimmy begs softly.

  Alex leans over and touches my shoulder bringing me back to reality. He gives me a sympathetic look.

  “I don’t know, Jim,” I finally respond.

  “When they decided to start a band, you were the one who pushed them to actually do something. You pushed Johnny to write his own songs and stop covering other people’s shit. You told him he had a fucking story and he should stop telling other people’s stories. When Ryan’s shitty drum set wasn’t cutting it, you walked all over Brooklyn bartering with pawn shops to get him a better set up. When Rich was too scared to put himself out there and book their first show, you took care of it. You learned the business and then you taught it to them. Then you taught it to me. You put your fucking soul into this band. You’re a part of it, whether you know it or not. You and Johnny… we don’t talk about that shit, but don’t forget me, Rich, and Ryan are still here too. We’re still here. We still need you. Don’t cut us off too.”

  I yell in response as his last words light a fire in my ass, “I didn’t cut him off!”

  Alex’s eyes raise in response to my outburst.

  Jimmy sighs into the phone, “Noles, I do not bullshit you, fucking ever. Return the favor. You cut him off. Your reasons are your own, but you cut him off. It’s not my business unless you decide to share, but I’m not letting you cut the rest of us off. We’ve been together too long.”

  I glare and frown down at my phone.

  “You should send the tickets and passes to the Sinclair Hotel,” Alex pipes in.

  “You Alex?” Jimmy asks with his menacing voice.

  “Did you grab your dick for good measure?” I ask.

  Jimmy and Alex both laugh.

  “I’m Alex. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Alex greets.

  “Fuck. Don’t believe half that shit. Most of the charges were dropped. The rest of them… I was framed,” Jimmy replies.

  Alex chuckles, “I hear all the stories are true then.”

  “Fuck, man. Brooklyn ain’t no joke to grow up in,” Jimmy tells him. “You looking out for Noely baby?”

  “I am. I put her in a Presidential Suite at the Sinclair H
otel. You can send anything there for her and the front desk will ensure she gets it. I’ll alert them that she’ll be receiving a package from you to ensure there are no issues,” he says.

  “The Prez Suite, Noely baby? Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about. You moved up in the world, Noe,” Jimmy says like he’s never stepped out of Brooklyn a day in his life.

  “Would you mind if I join Noely?” Alex asks and surprises the shit out of me. “What?” he asks me. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “Of Blood Feather?” Jimmy and I ask in unison.

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” Alex asks.

  “I don’t know. You’re like a millionaire or some shit, right? Figured you were the sort of guy who listened to classical music while you drink stupid expensive wine on your yacht,” Jimmy answers.

  “I don’t care for classical music,” Alex admits.

  “Well, there’s that,” Jimmy and I say in unison again.

  We both laugh. You forget how much you pick up on and how familiar you are with someone when you haven’t seen them in a while.

  “Fucking A, I’ll send you a pass and ticket with Noely. I don’t really want her there alone anyway. I appreciate you looking out for her. Noely, give him my number in case there’s any type of emergency,” Jimmy says.

  “You were already listed as her point of contact,” Alex tells him.

  “Aw, shit, girl. You make me feel all emotional and shit,” Jimmy says to me.

  I roll my eyes.

  “I love you, Jimmy. I gotta go. See you soon, okay?”

  “Don’t fucking duck out on me,” he threatens.

  “I won’t.”

  “I fucking miss you,” he says with desperation.

  “You okay?”

  “The road is hard. I want to go home for a few months,” he admits.

  “You guys have a break coming up in a few months, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Three-week break, but we’ve got Ryan and Rich’s cousin's wedding to attend,” he says.

  “Shit. That’s right. I’d forgotten Julie was getting married,” I admit.