Not His Type

by Canton, Chamein

  He grimaced. “Oh, that’s not right.”

  “He only followed what he knew. His father was a rolling stone and his mother allowed it. He blew in and out of my ex’s life. I wouldn’t have it for my boys.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “I gave him a choice. I told him he could be in or he could be out, it was one or the other. If he decided to be in, he had to be all the way in, which meant being an involved parent. If he decided to be out, he had to go all the way out. There was no way in the world I would have subjected my children to all the instability of a revolving door father.”

  “You were right.”

  “Don’t nominate me for sainthood yet,” Cathy cautioned him. “I also told him that if he showed up for high school graduation to make sure he wore track shoes. Not only did I know how to use a machete, I knew where to find one. I gave him fair warning.”

  “Did he show up?”

  Cathy snickered quietly. “No. He knew better. What’s funny is that it wasn’t so much about the divorce; we have divorced people in our family who managed to raise their kids without killing each other. He just didn’t grasp the concept.”

  “How long have your parents been divorced?”

  “Twenty-four years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “I know. Now that I’m older I wonder if it’s long enough.”

  “They say divorce is harder for adult children.”

  Cathy nodded her head. “I’d agree with that. When you’re younger parents are very careful to make sure you don’t take any of the blame; they want to protect your feelings. Then when you’re older, they want you to be on their side.”

  “Sounds sticky.”

  “It is. Sometimes they talk to you like you’re a friend of theirs or something. Like there was this one time my mother made a comment about her sex life with my father and before she could expound, I had to get all Regis Philbin with her.”

  “Get Regis Philbin?”

  “I told her she could poll the audience or phone a friend but I didn’t want to hear it and that was my final answer.”

  They cracked up.

  “You have some sense of humor.”

  “Hey, the way I figure it, you can laugh or you can cry; laughing is much easier.” Cathy looked out the window. “I don’t think I’ve ever driven into Manhattan this way before.”

  “I’m taking the scenic route.”

  “Oh, I’m not boring you to death? I don’t live the glamorous life of a singer, actress or model.”

  “Don’t be so quick to think they live such a great life. I enjoy talking to you. You keep it real. I like that.”

  “I like talking with you, too.” She felt a little bashful but kept the conversation moving. Marcus noticed she had a sexy way of making her hair bounce when she turned her head. She did it so naturally Marcus knew it wasn’t a put on.

  “Now let’s talk about your family. I know you’re the oldest and you have two sisters. Tell me about them. Are they married?”

  “My sister Lisa is a psychologist. She’s 32. She just got engaged a few months ago.”

  “Do you like the guy?”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty cool. He’s in law enforcement. My youngest sister Cecily, is a record company executive. She travels a lot and is in no hurry to settle down.”

  Cathy nodded. “She just turned thirty last month. You had a party for her at the Four Seasons.”

  “How did you know that?” He was a little shocked.

  “My father, Anna, Madison and my sons took me there

  for my 40th birthday. The lobby restaurant was all abuzz

  about you being there. I think you were in the Fifty Seven, Fifty Seven restaurant.” Marcus couldn’t believe that it was a small world after all. “That’s right. When was your birthday?”

  “August sixteenth.”

  “Her birthday is the sixteenth.”

  “How wild is that? We have the same birthday and I’m just a couple of years older.” She winked.

  He laughed. “You said your family took you there. Didn’t your mother go?”

  “My mother doesn’t celebrate birthdays.” Here comes the million dollar question, Cathy thought.

  Marcus looked totally confused. “She doesn’t celebrate birthdays? Is it against her religion?” he joked.

  “As a matter of fact, it is.”

  Marcus was clearly baffled. “It is?”

  “Believe me you don’t want to get into it. We’d have to drive all over Manhattan for me to explain and you have a game tonight.”

  “Must be some story.”

  “Oh believe me, it is.”

  “I’ll leave it alone then.”

  “Thanks. I promise I will tell you about it one day.” She was grateful for the temporary reprieve.

  “Okay.” He seemed pensive for a moment. “I have to ask, she does celebrate for the grandchildren, right?”

  “Nope.”

  Marcus’s mouth seemed to hit the floor. “My parents are itching to become grandparents; they would love to go nuts for a grandchild’s birthday.”

  “Most grandparents would but my mother isn’t most grandparents. She didn’t celebrate for my kids and once my sister has children, she won’t celebrate for them either.”

  “That blows my mind.”

  “Imagine how we feel.” She looked out the window again. “We’re in Manhattan. Are we far from your place?”

  “No. We’ll be there in just a bit.”

  “Cool.”

  Marcus was quiet for a few minutes. Cathy wondered if she’d shared too much too soon. How was she going to tell him that up until ten years ago she hadn’t celebrated either? She still kicked herself every day about it.

  “Here we are.”

  “Oh, terrific.”

  Cathy got chills just looking at the Tower. She’d heard that it was a mix of celebrity tenants and entrepreneurial wealth, a place where a neighbor might have an Oscar or two on their mantle, or perhaps own prime real estate in Manhattan. As they pulled up to the front of the building, two doormen rushed out to attend to them. One opened Cathy’s door.

  “Good morning, miss.” Although she was a bit of a feminist, at 40, miss felt like less of a demotion to Cathy. In fact, she actually appreciated being called miss.

  “My name is Daniel.” He helped her out of the car.

  “Thank you, Daniel.”

  The other doorman took the bag out while Marcus grabbed Cathy’s handbag.

  “That’s okay, Bill. I have it.”

  “Very good, Mr. Fox.”

  “Bill, if you could park the car and bring the bag up, that would be great.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Marcus held her hand as they entered the building.

  Cathy’s eyes lit up. Everything she’d read about the Tower was true. The lobby was simple yet elegant. Even the elevators had style. When Marcus pressed the button for the penthouse, her heart raced so she unconsciously squeezed his arm. Her wide-eyed expression made him smile.

  “Here we are.” He opened the door. “After you.”

  Cathy stepped into a place she’d seen only in Architectural Digest or in In Style magazine. Marcus’s apartment was very modern, but the walnut colored walls balanced the room’s nearly sterile aesthetic. As the sun shone it bathed the room in warm light, giving it personality while it highlighted the Monet and Picasso prints that lined the walls.

  “So what do you think?”

  “It’s amazing.” She smiled. “It’s very yin/yang. That’s not easy to do.”

  “I had a great interior designer.”

  She nodded as she looked around. “You certainly did.”

  Cathy walked over to the window to a magnificent view of the city.

  Marcus put his hands on her shoulders. “Would you like the grand tour?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Marcus was tickled to take someone who appreciated architecture and interior design on a grand tour of
his place. In the past Marcus had brought women to his place but he’d always felt that they had a mental calculator going. Cathy seemed genuinely impressed with the design aspect.

  “Here we are. I just want to say this is only the tour stuff.” He opened the door to his bedroom.

  She walked in. “Oh, wow. This is gorgeous. I see you chose to continue the color from the living room in here. It’s very soothing.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely.” Her eyes lit up when she saw the bed. “I love sleigh beds.”

  “So do I. My decorator didn’t put a lot of pieces in the bedroom. Something about creating a restful space.”

  “I think it’s feng shui. I did the same thing with my room. You’re supposed to leave work at the door to create a space for rest.”

  “Does it work?” he asked.

  “Did it work for you? I see you have a plasma TV.”

  “Snuck it in afterwards. You won’t rat me out, will you?”

  “It will be our little secret. I have a TV in my room so I can watch and scream at baseball games.”

  “You scream?”

  Cathy smirked. “You have no idea.”

  Marcus was skeptical. “You don’t look like the type.”

  “We never do, but trust me, I sound like a longshoreman.”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  “Trust me.”

  He smiled again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Please do.”

  He showed Cathy the master spa bathroom with a whirlpool tub and a separate enclosed shower.

  Her mouth dropped open. “This is heavenly. It’s definitely a place to tune out the world.”

  “That’s true. Oh, let me show you one thing.” He showed her the walk-in closet.

  “My sister would kill for this kind of closet space.”

  “Is she a shoe or clotheshorse?”

  “Both.”

  He laughed. “What about you?”

  “I’d like to have a closet like this.” She wasn’t nearly as enthused.

  “You don’t sound convincing.”

  “I’m more of a kitchen girl.” Cathy resisted the urge to say, Can’t you tell from my butt I’m a kitchen girl?

  “Then I’ve saved the best for last. Come with me.”

  She followed him down the hall. He opened the door. “Voila.”

  Cathy stepped into a gourmet cook’s wet dream: sleek floors, gorgeous cabinets, marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was an island, plus hanging copper pots, a Viking range, Sub-Zero refrigerator and every top rate small appliance she could imagine.

  Marcus grinned. She looked like a child on Christmas morning.

  She went over to the Viking range. “I love this. It’s a range I could drive.” She ran her fingers over the range and opened the double ovens. “It has a double oven and a warming drawer?” She placed her hands on the range. “This is my version of the Holy Grail.”

  He burst out laughing. “I never heard that before.”

  She started to ask Marcus about the staples, but it didn’t look as if he spent much, if any, time in the kitchen. The place was pristine.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “I could eat.”

  “It’s still early. How about we go out for a late breakfast?”

  “What do you have in your kitchen? I could make something if you’d like.”

  Marcus looked at her in disbelief; most women jumped at the chance to eat out. “You’re willing to cook?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t anyone want to cook here?”

  “I hate to tell you but I haven’t met many women who want to cook.”

  “I’m not most women and I’m the mother of teenage boys. I had to cook.”

  “Teenage boys are like having human garbage disposals.”

  “Tell me about it. You should have seen my grocery bill before they went to college. My purse screamed for mercy in two places. One was the grocery store.”

  “What was the other place?”

  “The shoe store. Andrew and Alex wear a size 14 and 14 1/2 respectively.”

  “Wow.”

  “Whenever the shoe guy would bring boxes out I’d ask him if he was sure there were sneakers in the box. It always looked like he was bringing me logs.”

  He cracked up. “I bet they’re skinny to boot.”

  “Skinny hardly begins to cover it. I love them to death but they’re shaped like the capital letter L, straight lines and all feet.”

  He cracked up again. Her sense of humor made her all the more attractive to Marcus.

  “So would you like me to make breakfast?” she asked sweetly.

  “That would be a real nice change of pace. I usually eat out a lot.”

  “Do you like pancakes or waffles?”

  “Yes.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, how about Belgium waffles?”

  “Cool. I can send someone out to get the mix.”

  “Mix? I don’t need no stinking mixes,” she joked using a voice from an old movie she couldn’t remember the name of.

  “You make them from scratch?” He seemed suspicious.

  “Sure. Tell you what, boot up your computer, log onto Amazon or Barnes and Noble, then type in my name.”

  “Okay. But maybe I should tell you where everything is.”

  Cathy knew Marcus didn’t have a clue but she asked anyway. “Do you know where everything is?”

  “No,” he said sheepishly.

  “Don’t sweat it. I’ll figure it out.”

  Cathy assumed he had a cleaning and maid staff. All she had to do was think logically to find everything she needed, including the waffle maker.

  As she was sifting the dry ingredients, Marcus swatted her on the butt.

  She jumped “Hey!”

  “You little sneak. You’re not just some mild-mannered literary agent, you’re a cookbook author with two books no less.”

  Cathy smiled. “That’s how E.D. and I met. He was my agent before I partnered with him in the agency.”

  “Do you have any other little secrets you want to tell me about?”

  “I’m not that interesting. That’s about the extent of my secrets. Do you forgive me for not telling you earlier?”

  “Of course. Who wouldn’t forgive someone who can make Belgian waffles from scratch?”

  “Plug in the waffle maker for me, please.”

  Within about 20 minutes Cathy made a full breakfast, including coffee. Marcus was quite impressed. Cathy ate a couple of waffles and left the rest for him.

  Out of habit she cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. As she finished loading, Marcus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Cathy felt those butterflies again and this time some of them were heading due south.

  “Are you just happy to see me or is your cell phone vibrating?”

  Cathy had completely forgotten her cell was in her back pocket.

  She checked the caller ID. It was E.D.

  “Speak of the devil, it’s my partner, E.D.”

  “Don’t mind me.”

  She smiled as she picked up. “Hello, E.D. What’s up?”

  “Hey, Cathy. I just called to tell you we got the paperwork on the offers from the other day. Since they were your babies I thought I should let you know.”

  She knew better than that. He had something else on his mind. “Good. Now tell me what’s happening?”

  He paused. “I saw the paper this morning and I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Thank you. I’m fine.”

  “What did Marcus say about it?”

  “Haven’t talked about it yet.”

  He finally caught on. “He’s still in the room.”

  “Right.”

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay. Bye.” She closed her phone.

  Marcus was still behind her. “Everything cool at the office?”

  “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine.” Sh
e slipped the phone back into her pocket.

  “You know you can leave the dishes. I do have someone who takes care of that.”

  A little embarrassed, she put the dishes down. “Sorry. It’s a habit.”

  Marcus turned her around to face him. “That’s all right.”

  As he looked into her deep brown eyes, he softly outlined her face and lips with his finger, then kissed her sweetly. “I think we have to talk about something. I know you must have seen the paper.”

  “First thing this morning.”

  Marcus tensed up a bit. “You know, I thought I would have more time to prepare you for this fishbowl known as the reality of dating me.”

  “The media microscope.”

  “I hope the caption didn’t bother you.”

  “Listen, Marcus, I’ve been a big girl all of my life. I used to spend all kinds of time obsessing over my weight and size until one day I decided I had better things to do.”

  “I think that’s terrific. Still, it’s one thing to deal with it in private and quite another to deal in public.”

  “I won’t lie. I had a moment this moment this morning when I let it bother me, but I let it pass. If I’m going to be around you I have to take the good with the bad. I’m not made of glass.”

  He pulled her closer to him. “I just want you to know that I think you’re great the way you are.”

  Up until that moment, Cathy was under the impression that athletes refrained from sex before an important match and/or game. No one had bothered to remind Marcus.

  Pressed up as they were against the dishwasher, soft and sweet kisses burst into white-hot passion. Just as Cathy tried to get her bearings, Marcus kissed her neck while he skillfully unbuttoned her shirt with one hand. When her shirt lay on the floor, his eyes widened at the sight of her ample caramel breasts. They were so inviting in her sexy black lace bra. “You’re gorgeous,” he panted.

  Thank God I wore a pretty bra, Cathy thought to herself. Somehow I don’t think an industrial bra would have elicited this reaction.

  Before she responded, he kissed her neck and breasts. With slight of hand he undid her bra and caressed her breasts. Who ever said all you needed was a handful obviously didn’t know what he was talking about, he thought. I’ll take two and half handfuls any day. Marcus pulled his shirt off and threw it onto the floor.

  Cathy forgot how to breathe. He looked good in pinstripes but shirtless he was amazing. She ran her hands down his toned chest to his six pack abs; her hands were anxious to explore more of his tight, muscular body.