by Emerson Rose
These men are all decked out in expensive suits. At least Marcus coordinates with me in my favorite soft faded jeans and a button up Henley. Even dressed casually he outshines them all.
Some men need great clothes to look good. Marcus is considerably easy on the eyes and looks beautiful in just about anything, or nothing as I prefer him.
Blah, blah, blah, legal talk and more legal talk, I’ve been involved with more lawyers since meeting Marcus then I have in my entire life. I am in denial about the importance of this transaction. I need to think positive, be optimistic. None of this matters because we are going to be fine, I’ll officially be a billionaire, that’s it, no big deal. Yeah, right.
I scrawl my signature across dozens of papers and I sense we may be nearing the end of this dull meeting.
“Is that all? Do you mind if I step out and check on lunch?” I’m starving and in desperate need to escape this crowded stuffy room and get a breath of fresh air.
“Of course, baby. I’ll be right there.” He stands with me and all the men stand, too. Weird. After a quick kiss on my lips, I turn to leave the room and I hear their butts hit their seats.
If I have to deal with any of that in the future, I hope somebody shoots me. I won’t have to deal with it, though, because we’re going to be fine. I rest my back against the door when it’s closed and take a deep breath blowing it out with force.
“No fun, is it?” Elijah appears from nowhere and startles me.
“Oh!” I squeak and clasp my hand over my heart.
“Fucking hell, you scared me!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just saw you getting up to leave the meeting on the security cameras and thought you might need someone to talk to. I know how those meetings are.”
Elijah is sweet and he’s probably the only person who can relate to my relationship with Marcus. He loves him too; it’s plain to see. I’m still unsure of which category to file that love in, though.
It could be brotherly, familial, best friend or an emotional intimate kind of love. It’s not important to me, though, because Elijah, more than anyone, can see the changes in Marcus since meeting me.
One thing's for sure, Elijah’s love for Marcus is great enough for him to want Marcus’s happiness over anything else.
“Thank you, Elijah, for everything.” We exchange a knowing look and I reach for my newest friend’s hand and tug him toward the kitchen with me to taste what the master of the estate has cooked up for lunch.
Marcus finds Maria, Elijah and I in the kitchen serving up lunch onto heavy ceramic plates. Maria arrived to take the food from the oven when it was finished even though it’s her day off.
I’m giggling at something Elijah said, giving him a little shove and he wobbles with the baking dish, and the look on Maria’s face makes me laugh harder; she is so full of expression! It feels so good to relax and joke around with these people who are quickly becoming my family.
When I glance to the entryway of the kitchen, I catch sight of Marcus. His jaw is tight and I can see a tiny twitch in his eye. He’s looking back and forth between Elijah and I. For shit’s sake, really?
“What have we here?” he says, moving toward the island. Elijah immediately senses the shift in atmosphere and places the dish on a trivet on the counter and steps away, allowing Marcus to take over.
“Just serving up your masterpiece. I’m starving and it smells so good. We were waiting for you,” I say, trying to cut the tension.
Maria hops to work, setting the kitchen table with her eyes on what she’s doing. It’s obvious she doesn’t want any part of the conflict.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Marcus says with a growl to Elijah. I feel bad for him; how can you put food on a dish wrong? I could care less what it looks like. I just want to eat and Elijah was doing what I asked him to.
“I asked him to help.” Marcus slowly looks up from correcting the presentation and the room falls quiet. Even Maria freezes, fork in one hand spoon in the other and looks at Marcus. Many emotions pass across his face, and I start to worry that everyone is about to be witness to the return of his other side.
After a long pause, he goes back to his work without a comment and the tension is broken. Maria returns to setting the table and Elijah makes the smart choice to help her.
“You’re being silly,” I say, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
“I’m a professional, Imani. I know how to dress a plate.” “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel and lays it on the counter. He turns to me and tucks a stray curl behind my ear frowning.
“You’re mine. I don’t share.” I shake my head and step into his space, circling his waist with my arms, pressing my cheek against his solid chest.
“Like I said, you’re being silly. I only have eyes for you. But I do need friends and Elijah is my friend. You understand that, right?”
He returns my embrace, kissing me on top of my head.
“No. I don’t. I only need you, no one else.” I love that he feels that way but it’s not true. He has to have a guy friend to talk guy stuff with once in a while. All men need that.
“Elijah is your friend, too; every guy has a best friend.” “Elijah works for me. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
I snort, “Yeah, really? Have you ever seen the way he looks at you?” He holds me at arm’s length, frowning.
“What?”
“Come here.” I take his hand and lead him further into the kitchen out of Elijah and Maria’s earshot.
“You’ve seriously never seen how much he adores you, respects you? Maybe, even, loves you?”
He is genuinely taken aback.
“What do you mean ‘love,’ Imani? You’re being ridiculous, Elijah is my right-hand man in business. I trust him with most everything excluding you. I don’t trust anyone not to fall in love with you. You have a sense of calm and optimism that surrounds you. It’s like a mist of fucking fairy dust. You draw people in and melt their hearts just by being you. I’ll forever be on guard protecting what’s mine. Don’t try to tell me Elijah is gay and in love with me. You’re the one being ridiculous. If he’s in love with anyone here, it’s you.”
It’s my turn to frown.
“Nuh-uh.” I shake my head back and forth.
“Uh-huh.” he nods his up and down.
I look over my shoulder at Elijah and Maria, finishing with the table, and back to Marcus.
“Well, it doesn’t matter who he loves or if he loves us both, which is what I believe. He knows we are dedicated to each other and there’s nothing to worry about, so cool it with the scowls and pregnant pauses.”
Surprise and then joy spreads over his face, causing a million-megawatt smile.
“Are you bossing me, Miss Jefferson?”
“Yes, I am, Mr. Castillo. Get used to it.” I spin on my heel dramatically with my hair flying in a trail behind me as I go.
After a quiet lunch, Elijah helps Maria clear the table while Marcus and I sit; I’m too stuffed to move.
“I thought you gave her the afternoon off?”
“I did, but I texted her during our meeting with the lawyers to take the food from the oven, and, now, well, she’s here, she may as well work.” I tsk at him and he shrugs.
“When is your doctor coming?” he asks.
“His flight landed an hour ago, shouldn’t be long.” Leaning back in his chair, his arms hang lax at his sides and his eyes travel up and down the length of my body, starting and ending with my mouth.
“Oh no, he could be here any minute!” I say, reading his mind.
“He can wait. Elijah, show Dr. Carlson to his room when he arrives and let him know dinner is at seven. I’m taking Imani upstairs.”
When he says he’s taking me upstairs, there is no need to add do not disturb; it’s heavily implied.
“Yes, sir,” Elijah says, turning back to continue helping Maria. I mouth silently, ‘Sir?’ at Marcus and he p
urses his lips, shaking his head in dismissal.
We walk quietly to the bedroom but, as we approach the door, the sound of breaking glass jolts me to a dead halt.
“Shit!” Marcus curses and swiftly opens the door and I follow with a little hesitance. Why is he going in there when he has no idea what’s going on?
When inside, he closes the door behind us with a little slam and scans the room, a rustling from under the bed has me backing up and a shattered glass vase on the floor by the dresser confirms my fear.
Someone is in here.
“I wanted to surprise you, damn it,” he says, getting down on all fours to lift up the bed skirt and look underneath.
“Marcus! Be careful, there’s somebody in here. Are you nuts?” Ignoring me, he drops to his belly and scoots under the bed and I hear him curse again.
“Fucking hell! Don’t scratch me, damn it!” Out of the corner of my eye I see a white blur shoot across the floor from the walk-in closet and under the bed where Marcus is currently fighting with I don’t know what.
Was that a kitten? No, I must be imagining things. Then a long drawn out disapproving ‘Meawwwooww,’ followed by more cursing, comes from under the bed.
It is a kitten! I rush to the end of the bed and throw myself onto my belly as well and scoot under the bed with Marcus. In the dimly lit area, I see three sets of eyes.
Marcus’s wide freaked-out set and two tiny green sets crouching together looking very spooked.
“Where did they come from?” I say softly, trying to calm the little fur babies.
“I was going to surprise you but the little demons ruined it.” I roll to my side and giggle uncontrollably.
“What?” he asks, and I gasp for breath and squeak out, “Little demons,” before bursting into laughter again.
Animals know who’s safe and who isn’t and the little white guy slowly skirts the edge of the bed farthest from Marcus’s reaching hand until he arrives behind my head. It crouches there, purring madly.
“Ah, see they like you.”
“Of course they do, silly. They know an animal lover when they see one.” As I speak, the second baby bolts to join the other in the protection of my hair.
“Aw, Marcus, they’re adorable!” I gently tug my hair out from under them and they consequently are moved closer when I roll over. They both approach my face; the white one butting his head against my nose for attention.
I take one in each hand and arch my back to scoot out into the light where I sit up and lean against the bed to examine them.
One is snow white and the other solid black with bright green eyes that match Marcus’s, except for his unique ring of lilac around the pupil.
Marcus has come around to watch me snuggle and love on the kitties.
“I thought you didn’t share?” I say.
“I’m making an exception, just this once. Your father told me how much you wanted a kitten when you were little but your mother was allergic so you couldn’t have one. You, my love, will never be denied another thing for as long as you live.” I tilt my head up and see so much tenderness there it’s unimaginable that he was ever feared or hated by anyone. And he’s wrong. I very well may be denied something, the only thing that matters to me… him.
“What are you going to name them?”
“I don’t know.” I stand carrying the mewing kitties onto the bed with me.
“Be careful, don’t step on that glass,” he warns.
“I won’t, we’re going to play up here.” He rolls his eyes and leaves me to retrieve a broom and dustpan.
“I’m losing you to them already,” he complains, picking up the big pieces of glass and placing them onto the dustpan.
I flop down and free the little fur balls, watching them jump and rear up on hind legs when they encounter a wiggly strand of hair that they believe is attacking them.
When he’s finished, he joins the giggle fest, sliding in behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist.
“So? Names?”
“Why don’t you tell me, mind reader?” “I can’t read what hasn’t been thought, smarty pants.” He tickles me under my ribs and kisses my neck. I shriek and the kittens pounce us both.
“I love hearing you laugh.” I catch my breath and squint my eyes when the white kitty licks my cheek with its rough tongue.
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” he says, gently swatting it away. “She’s mine.”
“You know they don’t understand you, right?” Sarcasm is not my strong suit but I give it a whirl.
“You’re asking for it, Miss Jefferson.” He hovers his fingers over my ticklish spot and I relent.
“Okay, okay, I’ll be nice.”
“Names.”
“Why are you in such a hurry for me to name them?”
“I’m not, but every creature needs a name and these are yours. So, names?”
“Yes and No.”
“’Yes’ being the white one and ‘No’ being the black?”
“Yes. I mean correct.”
“I like that. Yes and No. You hear that little devils? You have names.”
I have no idea where those names came from, they just popped into my head, and those are the best kind. There’s something to be said about spontaneity.
A knock on the door interrupts my fairytale moment but my heart instantly begins to race. Dr. Carlson might be here.
“Come in.” Marcus calls and the door opens a crack, Mr. Black pokes his bald head in.
“Marcus, Dr. Carlson has arrived. He’s been shown to his room and will be down for dinner later.”
“Very good.” That’s it; the door clicks shut and I’m flabbergasted at the absence of the words please and thank you.
“Don’t look at me that way. If I started using proper manners now they would be suspicious,” he says.
“No, they would be appreciative.”
“We’ve had this discussion before. Let’s just agree to disagree.” I don’t want to; I believe manners are important, but I decided not to ruin an almost perfect afternoon on this issue.
I’m enjoying basking in Marcus’s love and my new babies - Yes and No.
“I should name them ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”
He huffs, “Nope, too late, they already have names.” He reaches out with his tickling hand to wiggle his fingers at the kitties and they creep slowly to them, sniffing carefully until Yes nudges him for a scratch.
“See, they like you, too.”
“Hmmm, as long as you’re here they do. I told you, you have a lovely aura.”
“All pink and glittery?” I ask.
“Well, yes, I think pink and glittery works just fine.”
This is a moment I’ll treasure forever, a rare glimpse of what could be, if only. I have to stay positive, pink and glittery, for Marcus, for us.
Sixty-Six
My bubble of perfection is burst two hours later when we head down to dinner. The four of us napped when Marcus developed a severe headache, and if the security cameras can take still photos I want one of that moment. Marcus and I tangled together with Yes curled around the top of my head and No on Marcus’s pillow, close but not touching him.
He says he is feeling better, but I sense otherwise. His muscles are tense and when he thinks I’m not looking I see him grimace and blink his eyes as though he were clearing his vision.
“Do you smell that?”
“No, I don’t smell anything.” I respond sniffing the air as we descend the stairs. “Like what?” He looks puzzled.
“I don’t know exactly, just unpleasant. You really don’t smell it?”
“Um, nope, nothing.” I shake my head and he sighs.
Entering the living room, Dr. Carlson stands from his spot on the couch in front of the fire and extends his hand toward both Marcus and me.
He looks exactly how I remembered him; tall, lean like a runner, average sandy brown hair and brown eyes that I’ve always thought to be kind but today they seem diffe
rent.
I can’t put my finger on it but it makes me tentative, not the way I wanted to feel toward the man who could potentially have our lives in his hands.
“Dr. Carlson, it’s good to see you again, thank you so much for coming all this way. This is Marcus. Marcus, Dr. Carlson.” I do the formal introduction thing, they shake and I know instantly Marcus feels it, too. A microscopic squint of one eye from him signals to me that something’s off. I’m really getting better at reading him.
“Good to finally meet you, Mr. Castillo. Imani has told me about your case. I’ve reviewed your history and previous treatment plans.” Marcus doesn’t speak to the doctor, only nods his head and we all sit down. Marcus on one end of the large L-shaped couch with me pulled close and Dr. Carlson on the curve facing the two of us.
We haven’t sat this close before. He’s pulled me nearly into his lap and draped a protective arm over my shoulders.
“What makes you think you can remove my inoperable tumor, Dr. Carlson?”
“Brian, please just call me Brian. I’d like to show you some graphics I’ve made up that will explain to you both exactly what I will be doing when I get in there.”
“If. If you get in there,” he corrects.
“Marcus, you agreed,” I say.
“No, no, Imani, I understand. This is a big decision. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to imply it was a done deal.”
“I’ve researched you as well, Dr. Carlson. You have quite a reputation for taking on impossible cases.”
This is a surprise. I didn’t know Marcus knew any more than I had told him about Brian. I should have; he investigates everyone, even me.
“I do. I don’t believe in the terms inoperable or untreatable. I believe there is always something that can be done to improve a person’s life. Sometimes it changes them but, more times than not, it is for the better.” I turn in Marcus’s arms to see his face and he reads my concern.
“That’s what we are worried about. Ten percent of me is a fucking bastard that neither of us wants to deal with again.”
I’m surprised at Marcus’s cursing, I’m usually the one with the naughty mouth. Unless he’s mad, then it’s on; he’s as bad as me.