“Oh,” she said. “What did she tell you?”
“Not much. Just that you were in a bad relationship for a long time,” he said as he reached for his menu, “and that you haven’t had sex for about five years,” and opened it.
“She said–”
“Don’t worry,” he smiled, looking up, smiling a lascivious grin that sent a crackling of electricity to her nether regions. “I know how to fix that.”
Amy was horrified. Not only was this guy already expecting sex at the end of the date, she was almost positive she was going to give it to him. He was breathtaking after all, like perfection itself had been poured into a mold of sensuality and hardened into an exquisite, god-like form. Now if only he would stop talking…
“That came out all wrong. Sorry. I’m not expecting to sleep with you tonight,” he said.
“Oh,” she replied, relaxing a little but also feeling somewhat disappointed. “My ex never came here,” she explained. “He didn’t believe in restaurants.”
Brendan stared blankly at her. “I don’t get it.”
“He didn’t think it made sense to spend money on having someone else prepare and serve your food when these were things people should be able to do for themselves.”
“Huh,” he grunted. She could feel her clothes peeling off, piece by piece in his head, as he stared at her from across the table. He grunted. “Still don’t get it.”
“It’s not important,” she said, hoping her attraction to him wasn’t too apparent. “And honestly, I’d rather not talk about him anymore.”
“Fair enough,” Brendan said, and the salacious grin he now wore indicated to her that the last article of her clothing had indeed been removed in his tiny mind.
“So what do you do for a living, Brendan?” she asked, admittedly breathless, as she opened her menu.
“I’m in sales. Or at least I used to be. Now I don’t work.”
“Oh.”
“Had to get out before I killed my boss,” he winked. “You know how that is.”
“Yes,” she said, and cringed a little. “So where did you go to school?”
“Bayside High.”
“No, I mean after that.”
“After? Are you kidding. I couldn’t wait to get out of school. I mean, my folks made me do a couple of semesters at Queens, but wow. Not for me. I mean… I’m supposed to pay for that? I didn’t like it when it was free.”
“Oh,” she said.
He leaned across the table and clasped her hand and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “But does any of that really matter?” he asked, in a tone so seductive that she began to feel that it really didn’t matter at all what he said or would say ever again. Something that had lain dormant in her for so long was starting to awaken. There was a pull across the table, a pull so electric she felt like her skin was on fire. Like he was in possession of some erotic remote control device that fueled all of her most scandalous desires. It was almost too much to bear.
Then Zoë’s little voice sounded in her head, “You can’t fall in love with a body.”
“Brendan, will you excuse me?” she said, nearly panting. “I have to use the ladies’,” she said, lifting herself out of her chair and grabbing her purse.
“No problem, gorgeous,” he winked. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
Amy made it to the bathroom door, but instead of going in, she made a quick left toward the exit and darted outside. She scrambled up Northern Boulevard and onto 192nd Street, and then broke into a sprint.
Thankful that the Boys seemed to have something else to do this evening, she ran into her building and up to her apartment. Safely inside, she secured the lock, both dead bolts, and the chain. She headed into the kitchen, where she opened a bottle of cabernet and poured herself a full glass.
Twenty minutes later, there was gentle knocking on her front door. “Amy? Are you okay? It’s Brendan.”
She didn’t say anything.
“You took off so quickly. Are you sick? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
Still quiet.
“Babe, I know you’re here. Angelo told me,” he said. “They watched you come in. They let me in. Let me help you.”
She opened the door. “I’m not sick.”
“Then why did you take off like that?” he asked and moved close to her. Very close to her. So close, she could feel the heat radiating from his manhood.
“I’m just a little overwhelmed I guess,” she breathed. “It’s just been so long and I…I’m not sure…”
He pressed up against her and she felt as if all of her joints were going to give, that she was going to fall right into him, and that she was powerless to resist any of it. He kissed her, gently at first, and then in a way that spoke his full intent. She kissed him back, hungry for it—for his kiss, the feel of his body, desperate to be ravaged by him.
And even while being with him violated all common sense, not being with him was an outrage to her other senses. She already knew how he looked and the seductive rhythm of his voice, despite the banality of the words that voice spoke. But the way he smelled when he held her close. The bristly, rugged texture of his skin. His hot breath on her neck and the taste of him…
Her body trembled as he kissed her so skillfully. So ardently. Just the swirling of the tip of his tongue on her lips had caused a stirring down below. A tingling she had all but forgotten could exist within her. She had no other choice but to give in.
Brendan swept her up in his incredibly sculpted arms as he continued kissing her. Her entire body was alive. He brought her to the bedroom and gingerly laid her down on her bed, where he treated her to a thousand tiny, euphoric deaths before collapsing in her arms.
She held him close and nuzzled into his luscious neck and breathed him in. David seemed as remote to her now as the Congo. If only Brendan had been a mute.
“Baby, driving you is like driving a Beemer,” he, well, beamed.
Feeling the best defense would be a quick offense, Amy mounted him again, pressing her lips firmly against his to silence him.
Later that night, he turned to her and said, “I gotta get going. I hope we can do this again,” he said, and kissed her.
She smiled. “I don’t see why not.” Although she could see all the many reasons swirling around them like a swarm of mosquitoes.
He got up and she watched his incredible body as he dressed himself. All the taut muscles and perfect skin glistening in the moonlight. A Calvin Klein underwear ad right there in her bedroom. A gorgeous specimen of physical perfection.
He took up an eyeliner pencil and piece of paper from her dresser and scribbled something down. He handed it to her. “Here you go,” he smiled. “I hope you’ll use this. A lot.”
She grabbed it from him and smiled. She read what he had written and was puzzled. “I didn’t know you spelled your name with an ‘i’,” she said.
“Huh,” he said, as he grabbed the paper back from her and shook his head. “Why do I always do that?”
8. How Amy Learned Some Interesting—and Less Interesting—Facts About Her Friends, Deck, and the Terrible Acoustics in Her Office
“So what if he can’t spell his own name. Sounds like it was a miracle of a night. Just what you needed,” Jane said on the other end of the phone.
“He’s very sweet. Really. But he’s kind of a pinhead.”
“Is he small where it counts?”
“Well. No. But he hasn’t read a book since high school. Even then—”
“Look kiddo, not everyone’s going to satisfy you on all levels. David read all the time but he was deadwood in bed—your assessment, not mine.”
“Still. I have to believe it’s possible to have both.”
“Sex and Sophocles.”
“You don’t have to love him, Amy. Sheesh. Just enjoy him.”
“I do enjoy him. I guess I do.”
“So, are you going to see him again?”
Amy looked up to see Hannah hovering again. “Gotta go. Hannah’s here. Call you later.”
“What?” Amy snapped at Hannah, and actually felt bad about how harshly.
“I came to say good-bye,” Hannah said. “Well, I mean not now. But soon.”
“You have a new job?”
“Not exactly. An expedition,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Did I ever tell you that there are more than forty tribes in Amazonia that have never had any contact whatsoever with the civilized world? At all? I mean, who knows what kinds of peoples are hanging out down there in the jungle, just waiting to be discovered! It’s…” Hannah gushed, then sensing her enthusiasm was one-sided, she shook her head dismissively. “Boring, really. You wouldn’t care.”
“No. Probably not,” Amy said distractedly, not looking up. “So, when you do leave?”
“A couple of weeks.”
Just then, Deck came out of his office. “Wow,” he said. “What happened to you?” he asked Amy.
She blushed. “Just a little makeover,” she said, a little embarrassed.
“Huh,” he said, looking her up and down. “Nice shoes,” he said, and then turned to Hannah, who was glaring at him. “Have we met?”
“You remember Hannah?” said Amy. “From the wake?”
“Sure,” he said, now sizing up Hannah. “How are you?”
Hannah responded coolly. “Just fine. Thanks.”
Hannah continued to glare at Deck as he eyed her guardedly.
“I guess I should go,” said Hannah, not willing to break the stare-down. “Lots of arrangements. Shots and stuff.”
“Me too,” said Deck, finally looking away. He headed down the hall and stopped after a few steps. He turned to Amy. “By the way, I read your dissertation. This weekend.”
“You did what?” Amy asked.
“It’s on file here,” he said. “What? You didn’t know that? And here I thought you were too smart for this job.”
“I know it’s on file. What would make you look for it?”
“Heimlich’s files. The ones you missed. His notes intrigued me so I had to see for myself.”
“Creepy,” Hannah whispered.
“Why didn’t you finish?” he asked. “Why didn’t you do your defense?”
“I don’t know. Too busy, I guess.”
“Really?” he asked, a twinge of sarcasm in his voice. “Too busy?”
“Sure.”
A strange darkness came over his face as he marched determinedly toward her and stared right into her eyes. “I guess you didn’t really want it then,” he accused, the volume of his voice shockingly elevated. “Because I fought like hell for mine,” he barked and walked off.
“There’s something wrong with that guy,” said Hannah. “I don’t trust him.”
“Deck? Come on. He’s mostly harmless,” she said, and then giggled at her own joke.
Hannah looked at her, puzzled. “Mostly harmless. Like Earth?”
“Huh?”
“Douglas Adams? The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? The blip of an assessment of the planet Earth? Two words in a guidebook tens of thousands of pages long?”
Hannah just shook her head and Amy rolled her eyes. She imagined her assessment of Deck was accurate, that his size probably made him seem more terrifying than he actually meant to be. But after that peculiar outburst, she didn’t fully believe it herself.
“I don’t think so. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” said Hannah, shaking her head. “But there’s something… I don’t know. Missing.”
“What? As in his hair? Give me a break.”
“Oh, my God,” said Hannah, a realization dawning. “You like him, don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. I thought so at the wake but now it’s totally obvious.”
“I don’t like him. Not like that. And for your information, I just had the most sensational weekend of my life with this amazing-looking guy who—”
“You mean the one that can’t spell his own name?”
“How did you…”
“Thin walls,” Hannah laughed. “See you later,” she said and walked off.
Minutes later, Deck returned with two coffees and placed one on her desk.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Amy said in an exaggerated tone, looking toward her back wall. “How thoughtful of you.”
Deck smirked at her and looked in the same direction. “Why are you shouting?”
“What? Oh, nothing” she said.
“Were you able to pull that file I asked you about yesterday?”
“Oh, that. No sorry,” she looked away. “I guess I forgot.”
“You forget a lot of things.”
“That’s not true,” she squeaked, defensively. “Just what are you trying to say?”
“The minutes of the last department meeting?”
She looked at him blankly.
“You were supposed to transcribe them? And email them to everyone?”
“Oh, right,” she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth a few times as she looked around—anywhere but at him. “Sorry.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I know it’s total mind-numbing minutiae. Why don’t we do them together. Are you free now?”
She relaxed. “Let me finish up this other email and I’ll be right in.”
A few minutes later, Amy entered Deck’s barely unpacked office to find him stooped over his desk, where a Scrabble board and tiles were set for two. “What are you doing?” she asked.
He looked up to give her a quick smile. “Scrabble. You familiar with it?”
“Duh.”
“I’m in the middle of a pretty heated match.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, feeling awkward. “I didn’t realize you had someone here.”
“I don’t.”
“I’m confused. Then your friend just left?”
“I play myself.”
She scrunched up her face. “Why? Are you that good?”
He laughed and moved to the other side of the board. “No, actually. It’s because I’m that bad.” He looked at her. “No one will play with me.”
“But you have a doctorate in English.”
“And I’m remedial at best at Scrabble. I really love this game. And I practice all the time. But alas,” he shrugged, “I’m terrible.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Is that a challenge? Because I assure you, if you ever need a boost to your intellect, just come in and challenge me to a game of Scrabble.” He folded the board and swept the tiles back into the small silver bag. “Wanna see?”
“Aren’t these supposed to be work hours?”
“It won’t take hours. It will barely take minutes.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
Deck let Amy choose her letters first, explaining that really, it wouldn’t matter. She quickly played her move. “Twenty-two points. Not a bad start,” she smiled.
“So, why the change?” Deck asked bluntly.
“It was just time, I guess,” she replied casually, and he placed down his tiles: NADIR.
“Now why would you do that?” she asked. “You just set me up for a triple word score! I mean, thank you. But, come on.”
“You have to admit it’s a pretty good word.”
“But that’s not the point of the game. Who cares if it’s a twenty-dollar word if it only buys you six points?”
�
��I guess I do.”
“And this is why you’re no good,” she teased. She laid down a Q a U and a T, using his triple word set up.
“Now that’s an idiotic word.”
“That’s a forty point word.”
He considered this. “Did I mention I was terrible at Scrabble?”
She laughed. As he played his next turn, she glanced around his office. “It looks like you’re making some progress settling in.”
“I’ll get there eventually,” he said. “Right now there are more pressing matters. Your turn.”
She looked back at the board, disgusted. “How can you lay down an X and a Z and only get nineteen points for it?”
“It’s zax. It’s brilliant!”
“It’s infuriating,” she said. “I’m done.”
“And this is why I end up playing by myself,” he said, and folded the board.
“You are a big baby, aren’t you?” she chided playfully and rose out of her chair.
“I guess I am.”
“So do you need help organizing any of this or putting it away?” she asked, glancing around at things already unpacked. Among them, she spotted a framed photo of a man smiling on the beach, toned and tall, with warm blue eyes and a thick mane of shaggy black hair. She did a double take.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said, walking over to her. “That was me at least.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
He took the photo from her hands. “She took that photo. Marny. My ex,” he said. “Our honeymoon.”
“Wow,” she said. “You looked really good,” she nearly gushed. Seeing his expression darken, she realized using the past tense had probably been a stupid thing to do.
He placed the photo back in a box. “I know what you want to ask, so ask already.”
“Ask what?”
“My, haven’t you become the coy one with this fancy new look.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, evasively.
He grabbed up a marker and the Scrabble score pad from the desk, and began scribbling furiously on it. He held up the pad. It read: ASK ME.
She shrugged, nervously. “Ask you what? What are you talking about?”
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