by Joyia Marie
Then he remembered the Muatang and assumed she had to get back inside to her company. Aiden wondered how close she and the mystery man were that he would be involved in her loft redo. Maybe he’s footing the bill, Aiden thought cynically.
Aiden entered his loft and shut the door, determined to put his neighbor and her guest out of his mind. It was none of his business, he told himself when his curiosity tried to intrude. He went upstairs, changed clothes and came back down to cook. He was burned out on fast food and it was time for a home cooked meal.
Aiden sighed when he looked at his barren cupboards. He ran for weeks with various jobs his company had under contract and hadn’t made time to go shopping. He put it on his to-do list for the next day and dialed the overly familiar number of the pizza place.
When the operator asked for his address, a little imp had him give Helen’s loft number instead of his own. He had to see her mystery guest and surely being called over to get his dinner would get him a glimpse. He sat back, glad he had used his cell instead of his landline as he usually did.
When Helen showed up with his pizza, he could try to get a glimpse of her guest. He didn’t know why he was curious nor did he pay attention to the myriad holes in his plan. He just sat and waited.
Soon there was a knock at the door next door. He had seen the delivery vehicle with its lighted sign so he knew his pizza had arrived. He waited for the knock on his own door, but it never came. He waited some more then curiosity drove him to call the pizza place. Maybe Helen had sent his pizza back.
The operator assured him the pizza was delivered and paid for so he thanked him and hung up. He scratched his head in wonder. Had Helen highjacked his pizza? Were she and her guest currently enjoying his fully loaded pie? He felt a flare of anger at the thought and marched out his front door and to the door next to him before he even thought about it. Damn it, that was his pie and he wanted it.
“Hey,” Helen said, holding a half-eaten piece of pizza in her hand.
Aiden’s stomach growled at the sight. “Hey,” he said, not sure if the pizza or the mouth, it was going into were more enticing. He moaned as a spot of pizza sauce appeared on the side of Helen’s lush mouth and her pink tongue appeared to swipe it away.
“Did you need something?” Helen asked contentedly, enjoying her purloined meal. “I swear the food gods are smiling on me. I was just thinking about ordering dinner and like magic, this pizza delivery truck appeared. Have you ever tried this place? This is amazing.”
Aiden nodded in resignation as his dinner disappeared down Helen’s long slender throat. She was a slender thing, but he thought she’d fight like a wild cat if he tried to take back his pizza. He had never envisioned this scenario. Who did that? Accept a pizza they didn’t order? What kind of world did this woman live in?
“I’m sorry I’m being rude. Would you like to come in?” Helen asked as she finished the final bite of her slice. “If you haven’t eaten, you’re welcome to half my pizza. I’ll never finish it and I hate leftover pizza.”
Aiden looked at her as if she was speaking sacrilege. Left over pizza was one of his favorite kinds of pizza. Then again, he couldn’t think of any kind of pizza he didn’t like. Except Hawaiian, pineapple on a pizza was just sick.
Aiden looked around and didn’t see any signs of Helen’s guest. The loft was pretty much empty, so there wasn’t a place to hide a full grown man. He stuck his head back out the door and saw the red Muatang still where it was. He wondered about that then resolved to get some answers soon.
“Sounds good,” he said before stepping over the threshold.
He accepted a bottle of water when she offered him something to drink and soon the two were sitting on the futon cozily eating pizza. Aiden saw the rolled up blueprints sitting on the desk in the corner but didn’t see any way to get a peek at them. He had asked Helen the other night for her plans for her place but they had gotten sidetracked.
He smiled when he remembered how they got sidetracked. He looked at Helen and imagined kissing her again, then he forced the thought away. Maybe he and Helen could work out a friendship, but that was it. A non-kissing friendship, he told himself fiercely.
“What?” she said around a bite of her third slice. He was impressed. The girl was slim, but she could pack it away like a linebacker.
“Do I have something on my face?” Helen asked, picking up a napkin and wiping her mouth. Her full sensual mouth, Aiden thought blissfully, and then realized he was sitting there with a piece of pizza half way to his mouth, just staring at her.
“Yeah, but you got it,” he said as he forced himself to look away. Who would have thought that long hair was hiding a head full of ringlets? Her hair looked like a calmer version of a 70’s Afro and surrounded her face like a black halo.
Aiden looked around the barren room for something else to take his attention when his eyes fell on a painting propped against the front of Helen’s desk. He set the pizza down slowly on the cedar chest, the only other piece of furniture in the room.
He was up and on his knees before the painting before he realized he had moved. His eyes couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He reached out a fingertip, then stopped as he saw a slight smear of pizza sauce on his finger. Getting pizza sauce on this painting would be like using the Shroud of Turin to wipe his ass.
He tucked his hands behind his back as stared, mesmerized. Even without touching it, he could see this wasn’t a print but an actual painting. The brush strokes looked consistent with what he knew of the artist's work. Not that he was an art expert, but his adoring eyes were telling him this was an original Antananarivo. His heart sped up in his chest as if he was in the presence of a sacred relic.
“Aiden?” Helen asked from a much closer distance than the futon. “You okay there, buddy?
“Yeah,” Aiden said huskily, his eyes not leaving the painting. Even Helen’s magnificence couldn’t distract him from this painting. This was ‘Days/Nights’. He had only seen it in art books or prints. The one time a museum displayed it, he hadn’t made it to Dallas on time.
“How did you get this?” he demanded, wondering if Helen was an art thief. ‘Days/Nights’ was in a private collection. He couldn’t see Helen with that kind of money to afford this painting. If she had it, then maybe he’d have to rethink not doing her loft.
‘I’d do it for this picture alone’, he thought greedily. Not that that would be an option. He would have a hard time explaining to his dad why he had done a remodel for a painting. Might make his dad reconsider his decision to retire or hand the business over to his sister, Charlise. ‘I could replace the money,’ he thought busily, already moving his money around to afford the painting.
“My grandmother left it to me,” Helen said, returning to her pizza. Helen sounded dismissive and his hopes rose. Maybe she wasn’t a fan. Maybe she didn’t know what she had. She had it sitting on the floor, propped up in front of her desk as if it was a sofa painting picked up at Wal-Mart.
Aiden reluctantly left the painting, and returned to the futon. He forced his eyes away from the painting. Never show your hand in bargaining, his father had taught him. Aiden smirked, as if she wouldn’t know. He had already stared at the painting as if it was a piece of the true cross.
“Your grandmother?” he asked distractedly. His mind was buzzing. ‘Yeah, if I move everything and take out a mortgage on my loft I could afford to pay for this job and get this painting in the bargain’, he thought.
“Yeah, she’s the artist,” Helen said around her fourth slice of pizza. She looked like she was finally reaching full and Aiden was glad. At the rate she was going, he would have to pick up the pace to get his fair share. Then her words penetrated and his mouth dropped open.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Aiden
“Your grandmother is Antananarivo?” Aiden shouted.
“Yeah?” Helen said slowly and eased down the futon away from the crazy shouting art lover. “How do you know her work?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “Well…”Aiden said not yet ready to come out of the art closet. “Everybody knows her work,” he bluffed.
“Yeah, everybody but my stupid soon to be ex-husband,” Helen muttered and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that.
Aiden knew he was exaggerating. Antananarivo wasn’t in the same league as Picasso or VanGough but she was well known in the art world and her paintings fetched high dollar on the market with art aficionados.
“She was very good,” Aiden said with reverence clear in his voice. He knew her work and her story. He even knew about her shooting her husband, who he personally considered an idiot. What man would cheat on Antananarivo?
“Yeah, she was and not just as an artist. She was the greatest grandma ever,” Helen said sadly setting down the crust of her pizza.
Aiden felt bad for making Helen sad, but didn’t know how to change it. He looked around for a way to change the subject, but nothing sprang to mind. His eyes fell on the blueprints and he jumped on it.
“So you already have blueprints,” Aiden said quickly, eager to get past the awkward moment.
“Yeah a friend of a friend’s roommate. He’s amazing and got them done in less than 24 hours,” Helen said briskly wiping her hands on her napkin and throwing the napkin on the paper plate with the discarded crust.
Aiden was suitably impressed. Less than 24 hours? That is unheard of. Usually rendering took days if not weeks. Blueprints? Those could run to a month or better.
“Wow, must be some friend,” Aiden said, picking up his own pizza to finish. Helen might be full but his stomach was nowhere near satisfied. Along with other parts of his body, he thought.
“Yeah, he did it as a freelance job. I can’t tell anyone who he is as his company might frown on him taking the job,” Helen said, sitting back comfortably.
Aiden was glad to see it. After his reaction to her painting, she was looking at him like he was some kind of art stalker. He was glad to see her getting past that.
“Yeah, I can see why his company might get their knickers in a twist,” Aiden said between bites. “I’m surprised he was willing to take the risk. Something like that, if it got out could cost the man his job.
“ I paid him well and in cash. I think he was in a bit of a cash crunch. Race horses don’t love him as much as he loves them,” Helen said absently.
He wondered where her mind was wondering to and if it was the same place, his went. Now that he was looking at her again, his libido was kicking up a fuss. He kept stuffing in pizza to keep his hands to himself, but soon it was gone. He took his time wiping his hands.
The moment stretched out and he and Helen sat looking at each other. She licked her lips and his stomach dropped. He wanted to lick her lips and a lot more. He needed to get up. The silent loft suddenly felt intimate and sensual.
“Mind if I take a look?” he said, springing up and walking over to her desk before she could answer.
He looked back and Helen smiled and waved him on. “You might as well, every other construction company has. I’ve had more traffic through here in the last day or so than 30 during rush-hour.”
Aiden unrolled the blueprints and whistled. The plans were well done and extensive. It would cost a pretty penny and he wondered how Helen intended to pay for it. He couldn’t see her soon to be ex-husband paying for it. Maybe her grandmother had left her more than a painting when she passed. He wouldn’t be surprised. Antananarivo sold well during her lifetime, but the prices for her work had skyrocketed after her death.
“So when is my shot at the bid?” he asked as he studied the plans. Every other construction company was in but his? He was flattered the attraction wasn’t just on his side, but still, they were neighbors. If for no other reason, she at least owed him a shot.
He looked up when Helen didn’t answer. Her gaze was on her lap and her cheeks were slightly flushed. “Um, I wasn’t going to bother you with it. This isn’t that big a job and I knew you were probably busy with other projects. I have a short time line for getting this done and don’t really have time to wait around,”
Aiden looked down at the blueprints again and then back at her. Not that big a job? Helen was planning on gutting what little was there and rebuilding the loft. There would even be work done on the exterior walls, enlarging the windows and putting in windows around the door. He smiled at her imitating what he had done in his loft. So she had gotten at least one idea from him, he thought curiously pleased by the thought.
He was less pleased hearing his prepared excuse parroted back at him. Who was she to tell him what he had time to do? Did she know what he had on the books? Did she think he had so little self-control that if they worked together on this project, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself?
“We could probably fit you in but this will be pricey. The new plumping alone will cost a pretty penny,” Aiden said leaving everything else alone.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m hearing,” Helen said distractedly. She was looking at everything in the loft but him.
“Now, if you’re having a problem with cash flow yourself, we might be able to work out a little trade,” Aiden said with a pointed glance at the painting leaning against the desk.
Helen laughed at him. “If your bid is 100,000 dollars, then you are far and away the most expensive and we definitely won’t be doing business,”
Aiden flushed surprised he tried to fool Helen about the painting. He’d have to do a thorough walk through, but from his look at the blueprints, he was coming in about 25,000 high for the job. He wasn’t sure when he decided to bid on the job, but just knew he had. He wanted the job and the time to get to know Helen. Over time, he could see if her divorce was a reality or not.
If it is, his conscious questioned him. If it was, he answered, well… then they’d see. He was attracted to Helen but there were too many unanswered questions right now. After Alicia, he was big on doing his due diligence. He’d want to know a lot more about the mysterious writer before he went any further.
“Now if you’d be willing to take a smaller piece, we might be able to do some business,” Helen teased, drawing him out of his thoughts.
Aiden felt his eyes roll back in his head. She had more of Antananarivo’s work? How much more? Where was it? How soon could he see it? “You have more?” he husked, unable to believe his luck.
He’d make a trade work for his company if he had to. The chance to own a piece or Antananarivo’s work was too good to pass up. Her work rarely came up for auction and when it did, he didn’t have that kind of cash sitting around.
“Yeah, 40 or 50 pieces as well as her sketch books,” Helen said slyly finally getting that Aiden was a fan of her grandmother.
“40 or 50 pieces?” Aiden asked in awe, aware he wasn’t playing his cards close to his vest at all. He looked around the loft and didn’t see any additional works. He wondered about the other two floors and had to stop himself from going to look.
“Yeah, she left them to me when she died. I donated some to a few museums but the bulk I kept. My husband wasn’t a fan, so they’re in storage since I moved from my last loft,” Helen said clearing up the mess from their dinner. All that was left of the purloined pizza was the half a slice Aiden hadn’t finished.
“So is that how you’re paying for the remodel?” Aiden asked boldly aware of how the question sounded but unable to care.
He wanted to know if her hubby was footing the bill or maybe the owner of the Muatang. Where was he anyway, he wondered, and why did he leave his car here? Maybe the ex-hubby had taken back the minivan and this new man had lent Helen the car?
He put it out of his head. None of his business, he reminded himself. Helen would be required to put a significant amount in escrow for the remodel. Or he would, he thought, if he took a painting in trade.
Either way he found he really wanted to do this job. He wanted the opportunity to get to know Helen in a way dating wouldn’t accomplish. He’d get to see how she reacted to adversity and
every remodel had some. He’d be able to subtly get answers to all the questions he had about her.
He had plenty. It was strange but usually he wasn’t that interested in the backstory on the women he dated, and they were more than eager to tell him. He shook off the disturbing question of why Helen was different. It didn’t matter. First, he had to get this job.
“No,” Helen said with an oddly cryptic tone. “I have the money. Or don’t you think writers make that kind of money?”
“Um,” Aiden temporized, “well, I’m sure you’re a great writer, but I’ve just never heard of you,” he flattered. But Helen Dudley wasn’t ringing any chimes and Aiden spent enough time in bookstores to recognize the big names and even most mid-list authors.
“Like I said, I have the money,” Helen said, skipping over his unasked question. “If you think you can fit me in, then work up your bid and we’ll go from there.”
Aiden stopped wanting to press the issue, but realizing there was no way to do that without being nosy or rude. He couldn’t recall ever being concerned with where a client got their money before. Either they had the money and the job went forward or they didn’t and it didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Aiden
“A bid?” Aiden asked us what Helen said penetrated his thoughts. He felt vaguely offended. He thought he was a shoe-in for the job and Helen was treating him like just another contractor. How many of the others were willing to consider taking a painting in exchange for a complete remodel?
“Yeah,” Helen said looking away. “I wasn’t going to bother you with this, but if you’re interested then I think it would be best to treat this like business. Which it is. Business.”
Aiden grinned at the flushed look of Helen’s face and the fluttery way she was using her hands as she stumbled through her jumbled explanation.
“Okay,” Aiden said slowly as he walked over to the flustered woman. “But before you make any final decisions, you should have all the information.”