by Jessie Cooke
Reece smiled, and in spite of the guilt he felt regarding his nailing someone’s live-in partner, he felt the heat rising between his legs as he said to himself, Nothing prudish about her atop that desk on Friday night. Nothing prudish at all.
5
Bella sat cross-legged on the plush beige sofa reading the latest Anna Quindlen. She knew she needed to work on the Ramseur house designs; they were due in two days, and she had barely started, but she was lacking inspiration. It was all she could do to keep herself from simply turning around, heading back down the hallway to her bedroom, and crawling under her oversized comforter to hide for the rest of the day . . . maybe the entire week. The escapade with the masked man had haunted her all weekend, and while her body sparked and tingled at the remembrance of their act in the abandoned office, she felt a level of shame that turned her stomach.
What, oh what, would my Mama say? was the thought that kept recurring.
A mug of steaming coffee appeared in her line of vision, and Bella looked up to see Christo holding it out to her smiling sweetly.
“Got a sec?” he asked.
“For you? Always,” she responded as she marked her page and closed her book, taking the coffee thankfully.
“What’s going on with you?” Christo asked as he nestled in beside her on the sofa.
“I’m avoiding work,” she said. “I know. I feel horrible about it. I just can’t seem to get motivated. These clients are way too specific. Maybe that is stifling my creativity or something. I have so many limitations—not this fabric; not these colors; not this style; nothing like so-and-so, oh and we can’t tell you what we really like because we only know what we don’t like.”
Christo patted her leg sympathetically.
“I’m sorry, babe. I know that’s hard, but—well, that wasn’t really what I was meaning.”
Bella’s head tilted in a question.
“I mean,” Christo continued, “what’s going on with you? Ever since that party Friday night, you’ve been moping around here like a startled little rabbit. Did that beer-spilling jerk do more than you were telling me about? Did something horrible happen in that office at the end of the party? You know you can tell me, and I’ll never forgive myself if you’re scarred for life, but I want to get to the bottom of this.”
Bella sipped her coffee and softly shook her head. “Nothing,” was all she replied.
“More than nothing,” Christo said. “There’s something going on here. I can see it all over your face!”
“Oh yeah? Well, what exactly are you seeing, then?” Bella challenged.
“You look guilty about something, yet a little depressed, but then every now and then, you glow happily, like you’ve got a huge and wonderful secret. So, spill. Is it bad? Good? What? All I know is you haven’t been yourself. So, spill your little heart out to Christo. You know you’ll get no judgment from me.”
Bella eyed him cautiously. She and Christo had been best friends for as long as she could remember, and while he had always stood by her and never judged her, she knew exactly how judgmental he could be towards others . . . usually ones he didn’t know or approve of.
“What?” he asked innocently. “You know I’m your biggest fan!” He grabbed her hand. “But in all seriousness, I do want to help. What happened in that office?”
And without really realizing she had started the story, she told him—from the moment she stared into his honey-brown eyes to the rescue from the beer-spiller to the look of awe and amazement in the office as he took in not just the paint job but every facet of her body, as if he were appreciating something truly spectacular.
“He was so gentle and, I don’t know, chivalrous. I really wasn’t worried for some reason. There was a level of . . . comfort and familiarity amidst the unknown. I can’t really explain it.”
Christo clapped his hands together triumphantly.
“I think it’s hot! Absolutely, wonderfully hot . . . and God knows you could use a little excitement in your life, my friend. Now, which masked man was this? The one with the red Carnivale mask? Oh, he looked yummy!”
“No. He was wearing, like this gladiator-ish style mask, only it was a silver color.”
“OH! Girl, I know exactly who you’re talking about. I didn’t want to break away from those eyes, either. Had I had half a chance, I would have had him on a desk in an abandoned office myself. Those eyes! Those shoulders! He would be one body I’d like to paint . . . with chocolate! I’m betting he had the face to match, yes?”
At this Bella shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. He kept his mask on. And of course, I didn’t have a choice about mine. I figured if I’m masked, it was only fair I didn’t ask him to remove his.”
“What?! You fucked a faceless stranger?!” Christo was fanning himself at this point. “You? Bella Ryan? Girl, I don’t know what to think of you. You go from living like a nun for—what is it now? Two years? To sex at an office party with a masked man. Someone you couldn’t even pick up in a police line-up.”
Bella hung her head. “I know; hence my shame. Please, Christo, don’t tell anyone. It’s embarrassing.”
Christo clamped his hand over hers once again. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out. You let yourself go wild; maybe it’s what you needed—something exciting to get those creative juices flowing. After all, all work and study and taking classes makes Bella a very dull girl.” He kissed her cheek. “It’s okay. Stop beating yourself up. Now, if it becomes a daily habit, we might have a problem.”
Bella laughed lightly.
“What did Nicky say?” Christo asked.
“I haven’t told her,” Bella confessed. “And I don’t want to. You’re the only person I could tell this to. Swear you won’t say anything to anyone. Please!”
“Bella, I swear. You know you can trust me. Now, that jacket you were wearing—I’m guessing it was his?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Go get it! We need to find Mr. Right. First step is to look through his pockets to see who he is.”
“No such luck,” Bella said. “I already rifled through them. They’re empty. Nada. Zippo.”
“Ok,” Christo said rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “the next step is to take it back to the Trinity Building. Get it back to the office. He may work there.”
“I can’t do that!” Bella gasped. “That’s too embarrassing!”
“I’ll do it,” Christo said confidently. “After all, I was the event organizer. I could say that it got mixed up among my equipment somehow. Speaking of, I wouldn’t mind if that masked man got mixed up among my equipment for real, if you know what I mean.” Christo nudged her and winked as he smiled. “And speaking of equipment, you have to tell me—was his equipment, shall we say, ‘state of the art’?”
Bella swiped at Christo. “You’re incorrigible,” she said laughing. “And, I wouldn’t know how to truly compare him. It’s not like I’ve had much experience, as you know. But I will say this—it was almost more than I could handle myself, and he was quite the artist as well.”
Christo faked a pout. “Just my luck. Guys like that have everything—face, physique, state-of-the-art equipment, and no doubt more money that any one of us needs to live a life of luxury. He’s just my type. Wonder if he’s bisexual, perchance?”
Shaking her head, Bella replied, “Knowing my luck, he’s probably a construction worker who can’t afford coffee for two. That, or he has real mommy issues. There’s something wrong with him, I’m sure. You know my track record with men: if they didn’t end up costing me an arm and a leg literally, then they cost me my sanity. And anyway, if he really is everything that I’d want and more, then I’m sure—with my luck—I’ll never see him again.” She sighed deeply and despondently. “That’s just my fate, I guess.”
“Did you get a good look at his hands?” Christo asked unexpectedly.
“Well, they were all over me,” Bella replied. “But, kinda hard to examine carefully.”
“Well, do you remem
ber how smooth his palms were?”
She furrowed her brow at her friend, unsure of where this was going.
“Smooth hands hold more money,” Christo explained. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you that one? If he had smooth hands—smooth palms, that is—there’s a better chance he’s rich. Look next time.”
“Next time?” Bella scoffed. “There won’t be a ‘next time’. I’d die if I saw him again, and you can bet I won’t be doing any more of your painting parties, for sure. Even if I recognized him and him me, he’d probably never have anything to do with me. He probably thinks I’m easy after all that!”
“He did the same thing,” Christo said, his voice almost an octave higher at the supposed injustice. “Unless he believes in double standards, then he won’t think you’re the common slut you fear you are. And if he does believe in double standards, then you don’t want him.”
“True. I wouldn’t want a guy like that,” Bella mused.
“So, here’s hoping,” Christo said, holding out his coffee mug in a toast.
“Hoping what?”
“That he’s a jerk who operates under double-standards for the women he likes. Then I can have him; I’m shallow, and I’m not afraid to admit it. I’ll be his bitch, no problem!”
Bella clunked her coffee mug in a careful toast, always thankful for Christo’s no nonsense approach to life. At least he knew who he was, embraced it, and made no apologies for it. She only wished she were so bold.
6
“Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. We’ll take good care of you.”
“Sally, you always do.” Reece smiled at the young girl behind the counter of Prestige Dry Cleaners. He’d been coming here for years, but he wasn’t sure when little Sally had become a young woman. She was striking, and Reece winked at her as he walked away.
No harm in flirting, he thought as he opened the door for another beauty entering the cleaner’s. The woman wore oversized sunglasses though it was a bit cloudy out for that, and in her hands she held . . .
His jacket!
He was sure of it. That had to be his jacket from Friday night.
Is this Bella? he wondered.
He lowered his head, hoping to make himself less noticeable, but the woman he thought was Bella was honed in on the counter, already talking to Sally and gesturing to the jacket. Reece felt his heart racing. He wanted to stay, yet he wanted to run. He wanted to hear what she was saying, find out when she would pick it up, maybe he’d meet her here, but before he could make up his mind, his racing heart pushed to his feet, and he rushed from the business, the same words echoing in his head.
That’s Nicky’s best friend you screwed.
He wondered if Bella had confessed anything to her friend. A part of him almost wished she had; it would be an easy way for him to break it off with Nicky. At the same time, though, deep down, he really didn’t want to be that guy; that douchebag who cheated on his present girlfriend with her best friend.
As he turned onto Commerce Street from Market, Reece finds himself playing out scenarios, trying to figure out a way to see Bella again, but nothing was panning out. Until he passed the Trinity Building and thought of Friday night again.
“That’s it!” he said as he slammed his hand on his steering wheel triumphantly.
He picked up his phone and dialed Beau Walker’s office number. After exchanging pleasantries with the secretary, he cut to the chase.
“So, Lucinda, I was thinking about throwing a party to celebrate finishing up The Oaks in Grapevine, you know that multi-million dollar complex we’ve been working on for most of the year now?”
“Oh, my! I’ve heard such great reviews about that,” the secretary gushed. “I’d love to live there. Kinda like living downtown with your shops and restaurants except no traffic and a lot less congested.”
“Yeah. I think we’ll sell the units out within a year,” Reece said, proud of the news she was revealing. “There’s already a waiting list a mile long. It may open up for us to do a second phase, who knows.”
“You’ll have to keep me posted,” she said. “I love Dallas, but I’d love to live outside the city, ya know?”
“Well, this endeavor has been such a big deal for me and my partner; I wanted to celebrate properly. Like Beau did with his merger, only a smaller scale, of course.”
“Sure,” Lucinda agreed.
“I thought his body painter guy was fabulous. I’d like to steal his idea. There will be a small handful of the same folks there, and even so, I don’t think they’d mind seeing that a second time.”
“Oh, Christo is amazing!” Lucinda gushed. “I enjoyed working with him so much. He’s a doll, and quite the charmer, too! Were you thinking of using him?”
“If you don’t think Beau would really mind if I steal his idea,” Reece answered. “Do you have a way I can contact this Christo?”
“I’ll send you all of his contact information. Would you like it emailed or texted to your phone?”
“Just send it to my phone. That’s more direct anyway, and thanks, hon.”
“You got it, Mr. Hamilton, and next time, stop in and ask in person. I wouldn’t mind looking into those beautiful eyes as I talk to you every now and then.”
Reece laughed good-naturedly as he promised to do that next time.
Hanging up the phone, Reece smiled as he thought of how clever he was. He knew his business partner, Mitzi, would love the idea, and she was one girl who was always looking for an excuse to throw a party. She’d think it was wonderful that Reece had thought of the idea and taken the initiative to being the planning. She was also one who liked to walk the wild side. He’d talk to Christo about the possibility of painting Mitzi for the party, a gift from Reece himself, and he’d make certain he had the same staff he had brought to the Walker affair. That way, he’d be sure to see Bella.
Christo was considering staging another intervention for Bella. He could not seem to get her to snap out of her funk. He had been sure their talk a week ago had cheered her up, but it seemed she was living deeper in the doldrums than he thought possible.
A Dallas business number popped up on his cell phone, and Christo cleared his throat as he answered.
A voice on the other end said sweetly, “Please hold for Mr. Reece Hamilton.”
“Sure,” Christo responded with matching sweetness as he pondered aloud where he’d heard the name ‘Reece Hamilton’ before.
“Christo! Reece Hamilton, here. Did I catch you at a good time?”
The voice of Reece Hamilton was smoky and smooth, the hint of Texas there but not overly drawled and bombastic like so many born-and-raised Dallas businessmen.
“Your timing is just fine, Mr. Hamilton. What can I do for you?”
“I was at Beau Walker’s event about a week ago. You were there; did your body painting thing, and I must admit, it blew me away!”
Christo beamed on his end of the conversation. Flattery was one of his favorite things in the world, and he could never get enough.
“So glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Hamilton. I had a great time at that event, myself.”
“I’m hoping that you are open to doing the same type of thing; a smaller event, not many of the same crowd at all. Probably a more intimate setting. A big milestone is coming up for my partner and me.”
“Oh, a wedding anniversary?”
Reece faltered. “Um, no, business partner, actually.”
“Ahhhhh. Oops.”
“So, I’m looking at next month. Would you be available then?”
Christo and Reece worked out the details and booked the event. It would be in three weeks—short notice for Christo to get a staff together, but he felt that since it was a smaller gathering, it’d work out.
“I’d really like for you to use the staff you used last time,” Reece supplied.
“Won’t that be too many for your numbers?” Christo asked.
“Don’t worry about that. Just make sure you can get all of those you had with you. I don�
��t want anyone putting down an empty plate or glass. I want these guests to feel like they have their own personal valet for the evening, if you get what I mean.” He was pleased enough at the cover he’d invented.
Christo grinned. “You’re my kind of man, Mr. Hamilton. All about spoiling the ones you love. Consider it done.”
“Great! Send the invoices and bills to my assistant’s email, and I’ll touch base with you a few days before the event. Call me if you need anything.”
They disconnected, and Christo bounded down the hallway into Bella’s home office.
“Guess who’s getting painted again?” he sang.
“Not me,” she replied, not taking her eyes off her computer screen as she sketched out a drawing at the same time.
“Oh, but yes you are, my dear.”
Bella put down her pencil and took off her reading glasses.
“I told you: no more. That was a one-time deal. The end,” Bella said. “I’m not doing it again.”
Christo threw himself in the chair next to her desk.
“You have to. I just booked an event, and the client specifically asked for the same staff as the Walker event. That means you.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Christo shook his head.
“Look, it may be good for you,” he pointed out. “You’ve been Little Bella Blue for too long now. You said yourself that you enjoyed the disguise. It allowed you to be freer than normal, and we all know what that led to.”
“Yeah, exactly why I don’t want to do it again,” Bella remarked. “I think I’m more unhappy with myself than I was before all for that.”
He waved her off. “You’re just being so hard on yourself with this shame game you’re playing. You need this job, and you need this money. It’ll be fun, and who knows . . . maybe you’ll meet another man.”
This was where Bella rolled her eyes at her friend. “I think that’s the last thing I need right now,” she said. “I don’t want a man, not the way I’m feeling after this last one. But I’ll grant you one thing: you’re right about the money. I guess I don’t have much choice. Not if I want to pay my school loan on time and avoid asking my folks for another loan.” She exhaled and threw herself back against her chair in defeat.