by S. E. Lund
We had a nice chat and then, exhausted, I went to bed, missing her more than I thought possible.
On Monday, I slept in late and after a quick shower, I checked my cell and saw that David had texted me.
DAVID: Hey, bro. I hope you're hungry tonight. I have a massive side of ribs that I’ll put on the barbecue for dinner. I can't wait to see you, catch up.
JOSH: I can't wait to see you, too. The convention will be done for the day at four. Given traffic, I should be out there in time for dinner. See you soon.
When the final session was over and the moderator gave us a summary of the convention, I said goodbye to everyone I'd met and spent time with and left the convention room. I had checked out before noon and had my suitcase and briefcase with me. I got one of the clerks at the front desk to call me a limo and waited for it to arrive, so I could sit back and relax on the trip to Brentwood.
I arrived at close to six o'clock Monday at David's mansion on a quiet treelined street. The villa was surrounded by tall junipers and palm trees. A security fence surrounded the villa and video cameras monitored the perimeter. The limo stopped at the gate and the driver spoke into the microphone, announcing my arrival.
The gate clicked open and swung back, admitting the vehicle to a circular driveway that led to the huge double front doors. The house itself was ostentatious, with huge columns like the place was a Greek temple. The villa itself was higher up on a hill and overlooked the city below. I was impressed.
The limo stopped at the front entry and the door opened. David came out, practically jumping on top of me when I got out of the rear passenger seat.
"There you are, big brother," he said and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek. "Come on in. Let me get your bag. You can finally see the new place."
He grabbed my suitcase when the limo driver opened the trunk while I grabbed my briefcase and together, we went inside the villa.
We entered its cool dim interior, which was several degrees cooler than the outside. Everything was marble and gilded antique. I hadn't been to his new place yet so was impressed with its lush interior. There was even a small waterfall in the huge entryway.
"A waterfall?" I said, standing in front of it.
"Water is calming," David said, standing beside me. "Listening to flowing water is supposed to reduce stress. Have you never heard of the blue mind hypothesis?"
"What?"
"It's a hypothesis that because our species survived beside the ocean, that being beside a large blue body of water makes us happy. Hearing the sound of the ocean or water on a shore reduces stress. The ocean is our mother, you know."
"Our mother? What kind of new-age BS is this?" I said in a half-joking way.
"It's definitely new-age BS but I like it. I don't believe the woo woo stuff, but I think water does make me happy. That's why I like to see the ocean and have a big pool outside and a waterfall in my entry. Come in and let's get you set up in your bedroom."
We went up the grand staircase that curved up to the second-floor landing. It was all very impressive, and it seemed a bit at odds with my younger brother's tastes in decorating, but he was growing up, despite the bad boy persona. The place was clean and quiet and altogether more grown up than his last place, which was much more the way I pictured a rock star to live. His old place had modern furniture, pool parties every weekend, a huge recording studio on the main floor where various musicians and hangers-on congregated at all hours. Skeevy looking promoters who were probably hoping to fleece the band of its hard-earned money.
This house was grown-up.
My room was bigger than Ella's whole studio apartment, with a massive king-sized four poster monster of a bed, brocade covers and dozens of pillows. A set of patio doors to a balcony overlooking the pool below. A huge en-suite bathroom with jet tub, two-person shower and separate john. There was a massive flatscreen TV across from the bed and even a small sofa and chair.
I wished, not for the last time, that Ella was with me, so we could enjoy the luxury together.
It wasn't that I was unfamiliar with luxury. I'd grown up with it, but it tickled me somehow to know that David had chosen this house and had it decorated to suit his tastes. My little brother...
I laid my suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed and turned to David.
"What's up for tonight?" I asked, leaning back against the bed frame.
"Not much," he said. "If you were hoping for a party, you'll have to wait for next weekend. We're practicing over the next couple of days before we lay down some new tracks."
"That's okay," I said and shook my head. "It's going to be a working visit for both of us. I'll be spending most of the day at the offices, trying to get caught up and meeting with my people. I'll be happy just to have meals with you and visit when you're free."
"Good," he said and came over. "What's up with that girl of yours?"
"What girl?" I asked with a grin. I'd already told David and my other brothers about Ella, but I enjoyed playing dumb.
"The one you fell for when I was there. The one who's making you smile right now. The one you wouldn’t stop talking about over Thanksgiving dinner."
"She's fine. In fact, she's pretty amazing."
"Good, good. All the brothers are glad to see you getting back up on the saddle again, so to speak. Tell me about her. No, wait. Put your stuff away and come downstairs for a drink. We can talk by the pool. I have to do something first."
"Okay."
I spent a few moments hanging up my shirts and suits, and then went downstairs after changing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It felt good to be in a warmer climate. I loved the sun and warmth of LA.
I went down to the main floor and David was already there, standing at the bar and placing two glasses on the counter.
"What'll you have?" he asked, waiting with his tongs ready to pick up ice. "You usually drink scotch on the rocks, if I'm not mistaken. Or craft beer."
"Beer would be nice," I said, and he pulled out a bottle of some local craft beer that I didn't recognize.
"This is good stuff," he said and cracked it open, handing me the open bottle. "You'll like it."
I took a sip and nodded in approval. I could feel the stress slipping away as David brought his own bottle of beer out and we went to the patio. Under a huge umbrella were two reclining chairs. We each took one and leaned back, sipping our beer and taking in the amazing scenery.
"This is the life," I said and sighed. "It's almost December and the weather is fantastic. Back in Manhattan, there's snow on the ground."
"That sucks. Move out here. You could spend winters here and go back to Manhattan in the spring."
I shook my head. "I could maybe come out for a couple of weeks now and then, but I couldn't stay here for any length of time. The paper requires that I be there all week to oversee things. I want to be really involved. Not just a funder."
"I understand. Just me being greedy, wanting you guys to move out here. Now that dad's gone, we only have each other. Plus, our own families, of course. But you know what I mean. I don't want to lose touch with you guys."
"We won't," I said and gave his arm a squeeze. "We may not live in the same city, but we can all fly somewhere pretty fast if we want."
"So, tell me more about you and Ella. Did you take a picture at least, the way you promised?"
I laughed, because David was not going to let it go until I showed him a picture proving she was real and not just a story I told to convince them I was okay. I pulled out my cell and flipped through my pics of her, selecting one of her sitting on my desk at my apartment, wearing this soft white sweater and leggings, both of which amplified her curves. Her red-brown hair was long, and she was smiling at me. I smiled when I remembered taking it one afternoon when we'd just finished walking around Central Park and her cheeks were flushed. We made love very soon after the pic was taken.
"Here she is," I said and handed him the pic. "As promised."
"Wow," David said and looked
closer. "She's lovely. I like the freckles. And dimples, too."
"She's sweet. And she's really smart and might go to Columbia next year to do her Masters. She's got a great sense of humor. And she writes erotica for fun and wants to be an author."
"You already told me all that," David said with a laugh, for I had told him pretty much everything I knew about Ella. "She's kind of the exact opposite of Christie, isn't she?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You know, Christie was blonde and tall and model-slim. Business major. Wanted to be one of those Housewives of Manhattan or something and saw you as the way to get the lifestyle."
"Ella thought I was a bicycle courier."
David grinned. "See? Exact opposite of Christie. If Christie had thought you were only a bicycle courier, she would never have even spoken to you."
"That's the truth," I said.
"She saw you, found out who you were, and that was it, if I recall you meeting her."
"She was certainly ambitious." I rubbed my eyes, thinking of meeting Christie at a club three years earlier when I was just home from Afghanistan. She'd told me she asked around and found out who I was, then set me in her sights and came after me.
I'd been flattered that such an intelligent and obviously beautiful woman had come after me. She did everything she could to win me, even getting a job with me, slowly convincing me to start a relationship.
Of course, she didn't love me. She loved my lifestyle.
David handed me back my cell and I stared at the pic of Ella. So completely different from Christie. When I thought of Ella, I felt like she was real. She wasn't contrived in any way from her looks to her personality.
I wanted her to be with me pretty much every spare moment I had.
"You have to bring her out here, or I'll come there for a weekend so I can meet her."
"We'll see," I said. But I smiled to myself. Yes, I had fallen for her. David had been right before, and he was right now.
"Aww," David said, unable to constrain himself. "You're a goner." David laughed, giving me a good-natured punch in the shoulder.
I laughed back, not afraid to admit it.
"I am."
I was.
5
Ella
I met my parents for lunch at a famous deli down the street from the hotel. The place was busy with noon-hour patrons, and we were lucky to get in without a long wait.
We ordered the world-famous pastrami on rye sandwiches with matzo ball soup and had a nice hour talking about the city and my early experiences at Macintyre Publishing.
I filled them in on my duties and the Spring catalogue, and our plans for the following Fall lineup.
"What about your own writing?" my mother asked, always wanting me to write a romance novel. "Are you working on anything?"
I wouldn't confess to the erotica, of course, for it would shock my father to know his daughter wrote dirty stories, but I did tell them about my chick lit story, based loosely on my own broken heart. It was going to be a Bridget Jones style story of a woman who starts life over in the big city and finds that success and happiness is the best revenge.
At least, that's what I told them. I really hadn't had any time to work on it since Josh and I started seeing each other. That was okay by me. I'd much rather have the real-life Mr. Big in bed with me than be writing about a fictional one.
After our lunch was finished, my mom wanted to go shopping while my dad had his party meetings. We did the usual trip along Fifth Avenue, and of course, I thought about how close the apartment was.
"Your office is around here isn't it?" she asked.
"It is. Just over there," I said and pointed to the old building.
We stopped at a Starbucks and had a coffee mid-afternoon.
"It's so exciting," she said, smiling as we sat in the window and watched the people walking by. "I know your father was upset that you left, but I was excited for you, even though I knew I'd miss you. To move to the Big Apple and live on your own. I could never have dreamed of doing it."
"It's great," I said, and it was then I decided to tell her the truth about my first rocky weeks in the city. "Actually, I had a few hard times when I first moved here."
I told her all about losing my backpack on my first day of work and how a bicycle courier had rescued me, helping me out with a cell phone and some spending money until I was able to get access to my bank.
"A bicycle courier?" she said, surprised. "Was he at least good looking?"
"Very," I said and wagged my eyebrows. "Steph called him a real babe."
"She did?" my mother said with a laugh. "Well, Steph would know. So, does this bicycle courier have a name?"
"Keith," I said, using the name of the guy who worked for Josh. I made up a story on the fly about him wanting to buy a company and be an entrepreneur one day.
"That's nice dear," my mother said, but I could tell by the sound of her voice that she didn't approve. "I'm sure you'll meet someone suitable when you go to Columbia."
I frowned. "Mom, women don't go to college to meet men."
"Of course, they don't," my mother said, her voice sounding tired. "But that's where many people meet their future partners..."
"Don't tell Dad, whatever you do," I said. "He'll give me the third degree about him. We're just friendly right now so there's no reason to get him all interested, okay?"
She didn’t say anything, and I realized it was ridiculous to expect her to keep quiet about something as momentous as me having a new BF.
"At least promise me that you'll wait to tell him about Keith until you go back to Concord. Okay? I don't need him pestering me for information, considering that nothing may come of it."
"Your father will just want to make sure that you're okay, dear," my mother said. "But I'll wait if you really want me to."
I nodded. "I do, I do," I said, trying to drive home to her how much I did. "Please wait until you're on the flight back. At least then the most he can do is call me on the phone or text me."
She shook her head. "I don't know why you'd want to keep it from your poor father."
I sighed. There was no use arguing with her. Jerkface had a good pedigree and while he wasn't as wealthy as Josh, he had an inheritance. He went to an Ivy League school, worked for a top political law firm who did work for my father. My mother would be calculating how much less money someone like 'Keith' would make than Jerkface.
I knew it.
If she knew about Josh, she'd be ecstatic, but if my father knew about Josh, he'd be infuriated.
I was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place.
If anything more developed between us, I'd come clean about Josh but until then, I figured it was a better idea to keep them in the dark about my own Mr. Big.
No sense in creating a bunch of drama over nothing.
We met my father for dinner Sunday night and had a nice time, until the time came for my father to ask about my social life.
"She met a young man," my mother said, totally forgetting I had asked her to keep quiet about it.
"Mother!"
My father turned to me, his eyes widening.
Oh, oh...
"When were you going to tell me?" he asked, wiping his mouth and sitting back in his chair. "You met some new man? Who is it?"
He turned to my mother and she just shrugged. "I wasn't supposed to say anything. You'll have to ask your daughter."
He turned back to me. "Well?"
"Well, what?" I said, frustrated, giving my mother the stink eye.
"Tell me about this young man. What's his name? What do you know about his family?"
"He's a bicycle courier," my mother said, and then she covered her mouth like it just slipped out.
The expression on my father's face was almost laughable except I was afraid of that expression because it meant I'd be pestered and pestered about him.
"He's working as a bicycle courier as he goes to college to get his degree in Commerce,
" I said, upset now that I had to defend a fictitious Keith, blending the story I first thought about Josh with the truth about his past. "He wants to be an entrepreneur when he graduates."
My father turned back to his food and cut his steak, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was struggling to figure out how to respond, knowing that his instinct was to be dismissive, but fighting it in an attempt to appear reasonable.
"What do you know about his family? What's his last name?" he asked.
"If you think I'm telling you, you're crazy," I said and took a long drink of my wine. "We just met and are just friendly. We went out for a meal and have gone to a bar with other employees from work. If anything more develops, I'll let you know."
"Okay, dear, whatever you think is best," he replied, and I was surprised that he was so willing to accede to my wishes. "If and when you want to let us know more, you can always call me, and I'll come down and meet him or you two could come up to Concord for the Christmas or New Year’s holidays. Keep it in mind."
"I will, Daddy," I said and smiled. "Thanks for understanding."
The dinner ended and so I went back to my tiny studio apartment and went to bed, waiting for Josh to call me so we could talk -- and maybe Skype sex if he was interested. Frankly, I was tired from my day walking around Manhattan with my mother and could have happily just talked with Josh, but I knew that if I heard that sexy voice and watched him, my body would respond, and I'd be ready and eager.
My cell dinged, indicating an incoming text.
JOSH: How was your day?
I smiled when I saw his text and sent a reply.
ELLA: Good. I had lunch with my mom and made the mistake of telling her about losing my ID and stuff. I said a nice bicycle courier helped me out and of course, I got grilled about you for the rest of the day. I didn't say who you really were, though. I don't need the aggravation.
JOSH: That's too bad. I'd like to meet your father.