by Sienna Mynx
“Huh?” Marcella asked, hugging her coat to her. “What are you talking about now?”
“I’m talking about the rules you live by. The ones that make you think that being twenty-four means you have to be some great antiquities world rock star? Look around you Marcella. Life is passing you by. I’ve tried to get you to come out and you refuse. Then Richard the Snake calls and you’re meeting with him. Is this about Garrison’s or are you making an excuse to see Richard again?”
“Oh not this again.” Marcella walked away. “Of course not. This is business!” She tossed back over her shoulder. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”
“I did. I’m worried about you. We could have had a great time at Nava. I have a friend—.”
“No thanks.” Marcella waved Susan off, dodging pedestrian traffic on the cramped sidewalk.
Susan nearly stepped on a Yorkshire off his leash. Instead she collided with the owner. Marcella stopped to see her friend bat her long lashes at the tall hunky dark skinned guy, before he gave her a sly smile and ran after his pooch.
“Would you come on and stop flirting?” Marcella chuckled. In a matter of minutes she’d let go of her anger. She could never stay mad at Susan for long, and her friend had a point. Richard called and she jumped. She was never this pathetic. Her gaze switched between street messengers on bikes, large passenger busses, cars and cabs, all crammed in afternoon traffic heading toward the boardwalk.
“There it is.” Susan pointed to the restaurant the meeting would be held at.
It’s amazing that she never noticed the place before now. “How do you know about this?”
“Girl where there’s food there’s me. Besides the last guy I dated was Brazilian. He loved this place. Remember him? The Carter guy who sucked his tongue between talking, I think he ate his boogers too.”
“Okay stop. You made that up.” Marcella laughed.
“Anyways, he brought me here for lunch one day.” She went through the open door and past the sidewalk sign that said today’s special was cod with yellow rice. The restaurant had a small intimate atmosphere. Spicy aromas assailed her sinuses and colorful portraits along the walls spoke to the Latin theme quite well. Susan pointed to the double doors to the back left of the establishment. “I would imagine the office is there. I think I’ve seen men in suits go in and out of those doors.”
“Welcome to El Jay’s. How many today?” A petite olive skinned beauty with round brown eyes asked .
“We have a meeting with Mr. Juarez and Richard Epstein.” Susan volunteered.
The woman’s smile faded. “Oh yes. He’s waiting. This way please.”
Susan glanced back over her shoulder. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. Just go.” Marcella shooed her with her hands. There were several diners who looked upon them with scorn as they walked through the restaurant. Marcella tried to pretend not to notice. The tension in the air certainly had more to do with the man they were announced to meet than with them.
Through the double doors she and Susan were directed to the side stairs. They climbed them in silence. The office was off to the left. The door had been left open. Before she crossed over the threshold Richard appeared. All teeth and smiles, he grabbed her hand immediately and kissed it. Susan frowned. Marcella discreetly removed her hand from his. In six months he hadn’t changed much. Richard stood well over six feet and had dark curly hair that was tapered low to sideburns. His face was neatly shaven as always. His clear blue eyes under his straight brow were what captured her first. Now she felt nothing. “You look beautiful Marcie.”
Susan cleared her throat.
Richard smiled. “Susan.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Ravishing as ever. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I know you didn’t. Can we get on with this? We have other clients to see,” Susan said.
Richard nodded. “Come with me.”
They followed him through the side door to a very masculine office. The paneling along the walls was a deep mahogany. The bay window to the back of the large office desk gave a very spacious view of the boardwalk. A man of Latin heritage stood behind the desk, staring out at the city. He looked forlorn at the traffic below. In a tailored suit with salt and pepper hair, Juan Juarez wasn’t a tall man. Richard had to address him directly for him to turn away.
“Juan? This is the collector I told you about. Please meet Marcella Garcia.”
He forced a faint smile to his lips and gave her a nod of respect. Richard introduced Susan and then gestured for everyone to sit. Juan preferred to stand. He walked around the desk to a cabinet. He opened it and removed a small cedar chest. He set it on his desk before them. “Richard tells me that you are interested in purchasing my funerary?”
Marcella found her voice. She realized she hadn’t spoken since she laid eyes on Richard. She sat ramrod straight and ignored the butterflies in her belly from being so close to him. “I only agreed to meet. I’m curious over how you came about such a rare find. These burial artifacts aren’t legally traded.”
“I assure you I bought it legitimately. It’s from the 26th Dynasty. Please, have a look.” He stepped aside. Marcella glanced to Susan who nodded. She reached in her purse and removed a clean pair of latex gloves, slipped them on, then rose and stepped over to the desk. She could feel Richard’s eyes on her. Again a bout of nervous energy tingled in the pit of her stomach. The figurine was in excellent condition. She could easily fetch half a million dollars for it.
“Do you have the papers of authenticity?” Marcella asked. She studied the object closely for its weakness before deciding on the best way to handle it. Careful of each end she lifted the funerary from the velvet pillow in the box and held it up to the light.
“Of course.”
“How much do you want for it?” Susan asked.
“May I Juan?” Richard spoke from behind her. He rose and stepped uncomfortably close to Marcella’s left. “We’d only ask for about 150.”
Marcella blinked in shock. The thing was worth four times that much. Her radar of distrust spiked. “Why? Why sell it for a third of its value?”
“I’d like to see the papers for this.” Susan announced. Mr. Juarez hurried to the cabinet. Richard touched Marcella’s shoulder and lowered his voice when he spoke.
“He needs cash, and he needs it quick. I swear to you it’s legitimate, and a good deal Marcie.”
“Don’t touch me.” She dropped her left shoulder, his hand fell away. Marcella lowered the figurine into the cedar chest.
“This was authenticated by the Supreme Council of Antiquities in Cairo, Marcella. It’s legitimate.” Susan announced. She handed Marcella the folder, which she scanned.
“I’d like to have it tested for authenticity, and I want to know more of its history. How you came to purchase it.”
“Take it with you. Run all the tests you want. I bought it at an auction. Before that I’m not sure about its original owner.” Juarez looked to Richard for help.
Marcella glanced up. “I’ll need those auction papers as well. I can do a trace on the catalogue number. Susan take it to the gallery please.”
Without hesitation her friend gathered her purse then the box shaped cedar chest. Marcella held tight to the documents. This was indeed the discovery Garrison’s needed. And now she’d have to deal with Richard to purchase it.
“Can I speak to you alone?” Richard asked.
“No.” Susan answered.
“It’s okay. Yes.” Marcella replied. “Meet me outside Susan. I’ll only be a minute. We should have an answer for you by the end of the week Mr. Juarez.”
Juan nodded and returned to the window to stare out of it again. Marcella frowned at the man’s behavior, remembering the tension felt from the hostess that led them to the meeting. Something was going on with this man and she needed to know what. She allowed Richard to lead her out. Susan gave her a warning glance then headed out to meet her as she requested. “Okay the truth Richard. What is this deal you’re t
rying to arrange?”
“I’ve missed you.” He touched her arm.
She took a step to the left to avoid any more of his advances. “I’m sure your wife wouldn’t want to hear that.”
“I left her.” Richard said.
Marcella cringed. The only thing worse than a cheater was a liar. She knew Richard Epstein was both. How she could have ever fallen for the snake was beyond her. Now the jackass expected her to jump over the lame bone he dropped. “I don’t care.” She turned to leave and Richard grabbed her. He caught her by surprise. His hands tightly clasped the sides of her face, and his lips crushed hers. Two or three seconds passed before she came to her senses and shoved him off. Marcella slapped him hard, gasping for breath. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”
“Marcie, wait!”
She didn’t. In a panic she fled down the stairs. She’d never hit anyone in her life, but if she had a gun she might have used it. The anger and shame she felt had her on the brink of tears. Fearing he’d follow she raced to the front of the restaurant and collided with someone, sending the documents she carried floating to the floor.
“Ah, oh I’m sorry.” Marcella dropped to gather the scatter, mortified. Her fingers connected with a stranger. Marcella looked up to apologize again but her voice faltered. Her heart pulsed hard. Hooded dark brown eyes studied her out of a tanned face. Sharp black brows, chiseled cheeks and short dark hair that curled around his ears, only added to the firepower of his stare. The man held her stare, mesmerized. His goatee was finely shaven around the most kissable lips, trimming a squared chin. He blinked and her heart fluttered. His hand covered hers and she had to force herself to breathe. Neither of them spoke, until she feared she might drool.
“Forgive me I can be a klutz.”
“Tu eres bonita. A beautiful klutz.” The words came out thick and seductive with his heavy accent. He took her hand and steadied her on her feet. Marcella felt grateful her brown skin, though several shades lighter than her mother’s, didn’t reveal the blush heating her cheeks. The stranger was quite tall. He towered over her when he rose, even though she wore three-inch high heels. Tall, broad shouldered, awesomeness stood before her. He wore a dark grey suit under a long black wool trench. He looked dangerously expensive and smelled rich, though that didn’t quite fit his rugged handsomeness. She could see him more as a prizefighter in a heavy weight match than as a businessman. He was quite forward in the way his gaze lowered to her covered bosom and then down her figure. Those irresistible brown eyes flipped back to hers and she read his thoughts clearly.
He’s flirting! God she hoped so. He gave her a wider smirk as if he read her thoughts too. And there were plenty. In the brief exchange every bad-boy fantasy she ever had, played out through her brain.
“The papers,” he said.
“Huh?”
His brows lowered and drew together. Marcella realized he held a few of the documents in his hand. She accepted them from his long fingers. “Oh, um…thank you.” He gave her a curt nod, slipped on his shades and then walked past her for the double doors to the back of the restaurant. Another man of medium brown skin tipped his head at her as he passed. The entire restaurant fell silent as every person in it let their eyes follow the two. Realizing she stood there staring long after he disappeared she turned and left. Susan turned on the sidewalk concerned.
“Marcella, you okay?” Susan asked. “My goodness that was intense girl. I saw it from outside. Who was he? He passed me on the sidewalk, and I swear I drooled over my shoes.”
She actually felt the pulse of her racing heart throbbing between her legs. Never had she met a man whose presence she had such a visceral reaction to.
“Earth to Marcella? Woohoo?”
“Ugh, um, yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go.”
“Girl do you want me to go after him, drag him back out here?”
“No. Stop it. Let’s um, go. We need to um, check out this funerary. Let’s go.”
Marcella walked off. She’d forgotten all about Richard’s pathetic violation. Mr. Handsome had left her breathless. Susan chatted alongside of her speculating over the meeting. Marcella fought the urge to rub her midriff. Butterfly flutters continued to stir there. Gosh she wished she had opened her mouth and said something. He probably hadn’t even noticed her. Still that feeling lingered, it charged the air she walked through, gave her a nervous anxious feeling in her tummy. It was as if Cupid’s arrow was still lodged in her ass. Maybe Susan had been right. She needed to get out more.
Chapter Two
Marcella laughed. Her line of vision went straight down the table to Garrett. Her boss appeared to be the only one in attendance who didn’t seem to enjoy the dinner. She’d thought he’d be happy. A month ago she’d bought an Egyptian funerary that, once sold at next week’s auction, promised to pay off all their debts for a year. It took her a week of groveling to arrange a dinner with Bailey. She’d done it. If things went as planned he’d write another article to restore some credibility to Garrison’s and they’d be much closer to their goal of snaring Edward Katchner.
The dim lighting, the beautiful art, masterfully staged; the all-white décor, and flowing wine were sure to seduce Bailey. However, Garrett sipped his wine and said little. In his mid-fifties, with a trimmed silver beard connecting to long sideburns and stark white hair, he indeed was quite handsome. When she first met him she thought he had a kind of Sean Connery presence in height and demeanor. Even young women flirted openly with Garrett when he entered a room. And his Alpha personality only further confused the ladies when they discovered he was one hundred percent gay. In fact, if the dejected had seen Garrett’s love interest they’d be equally baffled. Bailey Landers would make Richard Simmons seem bland and boring. A petite man of five-foot three in platform Gucci loafers, he always tied a floral patterned scarf around his neck to accentuate his flare. He liked to impose a European drawl to his speech but Garrett said he grew up in Oakland. Bailey wore suit jackets and very tight pants, his balding grey hair made his forehead protrude from his receding hairline. Marcella found him loud and obnoxious the very first time they met. She didn’t understand the attraction the men shared, and wished Garrett would find someone more deserving of him.
Bailey sipped his wine with his pinky turned up. “So wherever did you find the funerary? It’s marvelous.”
“A collector approached us and wanted to sell. Call it luck. I’m not sure, but it is the most remarkable piece we’ve had in a long time.” Marcella smiled.
“Indeed. Especially after that unfortunate incident with the Cinerary Urn turning out to be a fraud.” He chuckled. Bailey’s cronies, fans, entourage, stable of young boys, whichever you chose to call them, all nodded in agreement. Sam rolled her eyes, which Marcella prayed Bailey didn’t notice. Between her and Garrett she felt a vibe of tension threatening to spoil the evening. Marcella winked. Her actions even made Garrett smile.
Bailey soon moved his attention to the other end of the table. “So Gary, do tell, what are you up to lately?”
Susan shot Marcella a look. They both stiffened when Garrett’s dour mood reflected back in the cold stare he fixed Bailey with. The breakup between the two men had been only six months ago. The wounds were still fresh.
“Nothing that would interest you Bailey.” Garrett answered in a sullen drone.
Bailey laughed. “That’s for sure. I was bored to death when we were together.”
Marcella cleared her throat. “Garrett how about you help me with dessert?”
Her boss was up and out of his seat, storming away. Susan shook her head in warning, but Bailey’s crew erupted in giggles. When Marcella rose she caught the angry defiant gleam in Sam’s eyes. She forgot about Sam’s temper. The girl looked like a rattler prepared to strike. She gave Susan a plea with an impatient look and Susan nodded that she’d keep Sam in line.
It was too late.
“Bailey do you know what F-A-G stands for?”
“Sam don’t,” Marcella
said, stopping halfway down the table.
“No dahling. Let the dyke speak. It sounds like ‘Same’ has something interesting to say. Go ahead butch tell me what F-A-G stands for.”
Sam flashed a sweet smile. She actually licked her lips as she itched for the opportunity to fight back for her boss. She leaned forward, elbows to the table making a tent out of her fingers. Bailey’s entourage, a colorful bunch of homosexual men that added to the Andy Warhol theme he aimed to portray, all narrowed their eyes on her. Marcella again wondered what the battle lines were between gay men and women. “F-A-G stands for ‘fools acting gay’, we all know you like to suck dick, so why don’t you quit pretending to be one for the evening.”
Susan exploded in a fit of laughter. Bailey’s face burned redder than a tomato.
“Little girl, I was out of the closet before your father ever sniffed your mother’s snatch. Be careful who you bare your claws at bitch.”