by P. R. Paige
Anything has to be better than that.
This has been the best Chicago summer. Every day has been a real treat with the temperatures in the 70's and lots of energetic sunshine. There's something about warm weather that induces the best mood in me.
Soaking up the marvelous weather, I trot down Michigan Avenue, in route to the dry cleaners. I am on my cell phone, talking to my sister, Kirby while I wait in line to pick up my employer, Perrin Shu's dry cleaning.
"You will not believe who I ran into at the airport in Los Angeles?" I say to my sister.
"Brad Pitt?" my sister suggests.
"No."
"Taylor Swift?"
"No."
"Justin Beiber?"
"You want me to just tell you?" I ask her.
"No, I want to guess," my sister insists. "Tom Cruise?"
I just announce it as this could go on forever. "It was Rome Nicki."
"The movie producer?"
"That's right."
"What was he doing in Los Angeles?"
"Maybe producing movies," I say to my sister.
"So what happened? Don't leave me in suspense."
"What do you think happened?" I say with a devilish smile.
"Didn't he get married or something?" my sister asks me.
"That's a whole another topic right there, and I will tell you all about it."
"Tell me now."
"I have to pick up my bosses' dry cleaning."
"You better call me back."
I am eager to tell my sister all about how Rome has invited me to join him in his house of shame, but standing in line at the dry cleaners is just not the place.
A pineapple scented air freshener meets me at the doorway when I race through the front door of my employer, Perrin Shu's penthouse apartment on Michigan Avenue. His three bedroom unit is huge with tons of natural light, and the floor-to-ceiling windows provide an immaculate view of Lake Michigan. Perrin is seated in a chair across from the door. I am two hours late, and he is expecting me.
"I was beginning to worry. I thought maybe you had quit and didn't have the heart to tell me."
"No, you didn't think that," I say to him out of breath. "I love you too much."
I pacify him with a kiss on the cheek.
Perrin is a young fifty-year old Chinese-American and shockingly more than six feet tall with a shaved head. He is the owner of several suburban strip clubs and all I can say is that business is g-o-o-d.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I say to him. "Ever since I got in late on Monday, I have not gotten back into the swing of things."
I head to his bedroom and hang up his dry cleaning while he trails behind me so affectionately.
"I have wanted a cup of tea for the last hour," he says to me.
"I'm so sorry. I'll get it for you."
Perrin has taken the word needy to another level and is totally useless when I am not around, but what do I care? The pay is great. He's great, and this job is great.
In the kitchen, the bowl of fresh green and red apples which decorates the butcher-block countertop brings back beautiful memories of the last time my sister and I visited an apple orchard. This kitchen is huge, much too involved for a family of one. But what do I care? The pay is great. He's great, and the job is great.
Wait a minute.
Didn't I already say that? Probably because it's true.
I fill the bright red tea kettle with water and prepare his favorite oolong tea with lemon while Perrin slouches at the breakfast island, scrolling through his iPhone.
"When you called off on Monday, you were rather vague," he says to me.
"I know and I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just give me the details."
I park myself across from him and brace myself. I'm about to spill all the beans. "Can I be honest?" I ask him.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
I'm beaming already as I never tire of reminiscing about Rome Nicki. "Sunday, on my way back to Chicago, I ran into a man I used to date years ago. This was the man of all men, code for, I had to have him."
"And?"
"After all of this time," I say with a smile, memories of Rome flooding my mind, "I still have the major hots for him, and after a little catch up conversation, here and there, the next thing I knew, I was on my back in the hotel suite."
"On your back or on your front?" he asks me.
"Both," I say, shamelessly.
It's unusual for people to share such personal information with their employers, but that's the kind of relationship that I have with Perrin. We talk about everything, even stuff that, I'm sure one day, will eventually get me fired. But what do I care? At the moment, he's great, the pay is great and the job is great.
"After all of this time," Perrin says to me, "was it worth it?"
I nod my head yes and show him a tall smile. "However, there's one small problem. He's into this crazy lifestyle of make-shift polygamy."
"And this is a small problem?" he asks me.
"Actually, it's more of a big problem, and if that isn't enough, he wants me to be a part of it."
Perrin laughs. "I love it. Tell me more."
"Here's what I can tell you," I say, "I'm definitely not going to be a part of it. I can assure you of that."
"And you're sure about this?" he asks me as if he knows something that I don't.
"I'm sure."
"So he's not actually married to these women?" Perrin questions me.
"No. They just live together."
"And so the plot thickens," Perrin says.
The tea kettle whistles and I finish preparing his oolong tea with lemon chucks and set it on the table in front of him.
"Look at the plus side," Perrin says. "At least he is out and open about it."
Yes, there is something to be said for full disclosure. However, that fact alone doesn't really help me. I want Rome in my life, but I strenuously object to sharing him with two other women. But from where I stand, I have to take a number anyway. Unfortunately for me, I'm number three on the totem pole.
Episode Four
It's not until 7:00 o'clock in evening when I return to my humble abode in Water's Edge, a ritzy and diverse area on the north side of Chicago.
One of my favorite things to do, at any time of day, but especially in the evening, is to bathe in a tubful of bubbles and soak up the knowledge from an inspiring book. This evening I do just that. I submerge myself in the aroma of cherry blossom and read one of my all-time favorite authors, Catherine Ponder. I have read the Prospering Power of Love many times and each time it impresses me more and more.
After fifty minutes, I rise from the tub, dry myself off and wrap myself in my plush bathrobe. I'm eager to catch up on some of the new shows premiering on Investigation Discovery before retiring to bed when there is a knock on my door. At first, I think I am hearing things. The doorman in my building is adamant about alerting me when I have guests. However, just as quickly as I explore that thought, I hear the knock again and step to the door in my bare feet. When I scan the peephole I see Rome and before I can open the door, he announces himself, "It's Rome."
I open the door to him and soon learn that he is not alone. He has brought two other women with him, his live-in ladyloves, no doubt.
"Rome?" I say. "You are just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"The ladies wanted to meet you," Rome says, sporting his signature Fedora hat, looking just as tasty as ever.
"Thursday, this is Storm Wheeler and Indie Ocean."
"India," India says, correcting his pronunciation of her name.
"Right," Rome says. "Ladies, this is Thursday."
Storm's eyes turn towards Rome. "And why do I like to be called Storm?"
"Because you like to raise hell," Rome says, seemingly reluctant in revealing such information.
"That's right," Storm says. Storm speaks with a southern twang, which I find exceptionally soothing to the ears.
India sports a short milita
ry cut and is decorated with several tiny gold-studded earrings in each ear. Storm is even more striking. She possesses gorgeous straight ocean blue hair and a slim waist that most women only dream about.
Though challenging, I attempt to tear my eyes away from Storm's mesmerizing ocean blue hair and matching blue eyelashes but fail miserably. In the interim, I make two immediate observations about these women. First off, they both appear to be in their early 30's and second, they are both very pretty, especially Storm. Finally, the last thing I note is that Rome has totally disregarded my reluctance to meet his harem and has brought them to my home.
The ladies and I exchange cute pleasantries before Rome intervenes and asks, "May we come in?"
"Of course," I say as I step aside so that they can enter. At this moment, I'm certain that Aston Kutcher is going to jump out at me and reveal to me that I have been punk'd. This is simply the only way that I can explain the craziness of this point in time.
Rome and his two stunning lady friends sail in, and I have no idea where this is going, but what I can do, is be polite and courteous.
"Would you ladies like to sit down?"
Storm steps towards me and gently offers me her hand, and we shake. "I have to tell you how excited I am to meet you. You have a warm handshake, and that tells me a lot." Storm winks her eye at me. "I like that."
My eyes roll over to Rome as if to say, is this woman serious?
"Rome says good things about you," Storm continues, "And I know I have just met you, Thursday--May I call you Thursday?"
"Of course," I say.
"As I was saying, I know I have just met you," Storm says, "but what I can tell so far is this: I have good feelings about you."
All I can think of to say to such an unexpected statement is, "Thank you."
Storm seats herself on the sofa and leans back. She is all smiles. "You don't mind if I take off my shoes, do you?" Storm asks me.
"Not at all," I say.
"Can I put my legs on the sofa?" Storm asks me with a warm smile.
"If you like," I say to her.
Storm slips out of her thong sandals and props her legs into the lotus position.
India, on the other hand, does not sit at all. Instead, she examines the few pictures that I have framed on the entertainment center, one being of my late golden retriever.
India wears a bright mini sun dress and wedge sandals. "Is this your dog, Thursday," India asks me.
"She belonged to the man I used to be married to."
"Do you miss her?" India asks me.
"Every day," I say.
"I have a dog, too, Thursday," India says. "I have a picture of her here somewhere." India browses through the photographs on her Android phone, then shows me a picture of a cute Beagle. "Here's my princess."
"She's darling," I say to India.
"I have the best dog ever!" India says, oozing of exuberance. "She follows me around everywhere I go. She wags her tail when she's happy and sometimes, she even licks my face."
"In other words, she does what dogs do," I say.
"Yeah, but with more sweetness and more love than any other dog."
India finally seats herself next to Storm. "I like that you are a dog lover," India says. "You and I are going to be good friends. I just know it."
"We are?" I question her.
"Of course, we are. Don't you want to be my friend?"
I am at a loss for words and not sure how to answer this question. However, what I do know is that I can't very well tell her no so I say what any other person in my situation might say, "Sure, I want to be your friend."
My eyes sweep over to Rome, who seems to be unusually amused by this. I then look to Storm who goes into her purse and pulls out a bottle of what appears to be vitamins. "Would anyone like some vitamin D?"
"No thanks," I am first to say. I'm used to be offered many things, but never vitamins.
"We all know that is not vitamin D," India says.
"It is too," Storm states emphatically.
I can only imagine, if it is not vitamin D, what is it?
My eyes do a beeline in Rome's direction who is leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. "May I speak with you alone for a minute, please?"
"Lead the way," Rome says.
"Ladies," the remote control is on the table."
Storm is quick to grab hold of the remote control. "I want to see what Anderson Cooper is talking about this evening."
"I don't want to watch Anderson Cooper," India says in a whiny tone.
"Well, what would you like to watch?" Storm asks India.
"I don't know, but I know I don't want to watch any news channels."
I have only been in the presence of these women for a short time, but I have a vague feeling that India is used to getting her own way and if she doesn't, there is hell to pay. But then again, what do I know?
While Storm and India spar over what to watch on TV, Rome and I escape into the bedroom. I ease down on the bed, open my robe and smooth cocoa butter on my legs and arms.
Rome leans against the back of the door, his hands inside his pants pocket. "Don't tell me you're not amused by all of this?" He is all smiles when he asks me this.
"No, I'm not," I say, trying to convince him that he is wrong, when in actuality, he's dead right. I am amused.
"Yes, you are. I know you."
"Well, maybe I am a little amused," I finally admit.
"And your thoughts are?"
"My thoughts are that Storm and India are lovely women and seem very sweet, and with saying all of that, my question to you is, why are they here?"
"I wanted you to meet them and get to know them so that you might eventually… join our family."
Rome's statement warrants an immediate response, but I do not succumb to him. Instead, I slip on my panties and remove my bathrobe, exposing my breast before slipping a nightshirt over my head.
"You realize that I am watching, looking at you and enjoying what I am seeing?"
"Yes, I know that."
"Just so you know," he adds.
"Now that I have on some clothes, I can devote all of my attention to Rome. I step to him, my hands on my hips. "Now, I can thoroughly put my foot up your you-know-what."
"That doesn't sound very nice."
"It's not supposed to be nice," I say to him, "I told you numerous times that I was not N-O-T interested in being a part of your harem."
"I understand all of that, but I thought it was important that you at least meet the women first."
I exhale a breath of frustration. I am getting nowhere with him. "What do these women know about me anyway?"
"I told them that we used to be lovers."
"And they don't have a problem with that?" I question him.
"Obviously not."
"Rome, I don't know how many more ways I can put this to you. I am not interested in what you are offering. Period."
"But I know you, Thursday. You have always been interested in new people and new experiences."
"Well, guess what, this is one experience I am not interested in having."
"But you don't know that for sure because you haven't even given them a chance," Rome says, "I think the three of you will have a lot in common."
"The only thing we have in common," I say, pointing at him, "is you."
"You and India both love dogs," he says, making his argument.
"India, me and a million other people."
"You are all spiritual people, well at least Storm and you are, and all of you are heavily into self-improvement, at least you and India are."
"Not interested," I say, then ease down on the bed with my arms stretched out behind me and cross my legs.
"Come on, Thursday," Rome says. "Don't be like that."
He is clearly not one for accepting no for an answer.
"Why is this so important to you? Why do you want me to befriend these women?"
Rome flops down next to me and uncrosses my legs.
"I want you to become a part of our family."
"And what is uncrossing my legs going to do?"
"Throw you off your tirade of unrelenting reluctance."
"It's already the three of you," I remind him. "Isn't that enough?"
"No, it's not. I'll tell you what." Rome stoops down in front of me so that we are eye to eye. "Just spend the day with the ladies, doing whatever you want, and if you still feel the same way, I won't bring it up again, and if I do bring it up again, I will sign over my Mini Cooper to you."
"The white one?" I asks, now intrigued.
"Is there any other one?"
Most people might be more impressed with a vehicle along the lines of a Mercedes or a BMW, but not me. Something less popular and cute is what captures my eye.
My defenses are now weakening. I can only say no to him for so long.
"What do I have to do again?" I ask him.
"Just spend the day with India and Storm. That is all."
I'm thinking about it, still unsure.
"And remember, I'm only asking you to spend the day with them. Nothing else," he reminds me.
"Nothing else?" I have practically said yes without even saying yes.
"Nothing," he insists.
Just as Rome is rising to his feet, there is a knock on the door. Right away, Rome opens it to India and Storm.
"We want to join the party, too," India says. She and Storm barge their way in.
"I could only watch Nick at Night with India for so long," Storms admits.
India and Storm drop down next to me. India is on my left, and Storm is on my right. I struggle to keep from chuckling as my curiosity is in full swing by the display of their uncanny affection and bold behavior.
India gently turns my face towards her so that we are eye to eye. "We would really love to spend the day with you this Saturday," India says to me.
Before I can even respond, Storm says to India. "I thought we were going to do Sunday."
"Sunday doesn't really work for me," India says.
Storm directs her attention back to me. "Will you join us, Thursday?"
It's as if I am some kind of wishbone on display for their amusement.