Mr. 365
Page 5
I grin, not surprised that he loves the vintage art deco design and elegant lines of the old building. Judging from the love he puts into his house, he must appreciate classic architecture. “I’ll buzz you in—apartment 6D—so just come on up.”
When I open the door, he pauses for a moment and stares. Finally he steps forward and kisses my cheek.
“Hi, beautiful.” He’s clean-shaven and wearing a sport jacket with his jeans. He definitely looks good… too good.
“Hi, handsome.” I pull the door open wider. “Would you like to come in?”
“Just for a minute so we can make our reservation.” He walks into the living room.
“So how did you know my building? Have you been here before?”
“A year or so before my grandmother died, I brought her here to visit her old friend May. She’d been a wardrobe person for years on the Warner Brothers lot. Even in her old age she had so much style. Her whole apartment was vintage deco furniture.”
“Wow. I’m not sure she still lives here.”
“Probably not, she was pretty old back then. But I’ll never forget her or her place. Yours is pretty great too.” He steps over to the large windows. “Look at your view.”
“Thanks, but my place and view can’t compare to your amazing house.”
“But what about all the Christmas stuff? You really don’t mind it?”
“No I don’t.” It’s not really a fib since I do enjoy it. I just don’t mention that the fact that he devotes so much time to orchestrate all of it makes me worry about him personally.
“You’re not just saying that?”
“No I’m not just saying that because of the shoot. I’m just happy when I’m in your house. I get that excited hopeful feeling I had when I was a kid.” I am happy in his house, but I wouldn’t feel the same if it was someone else. It’s Will who makes me happy when I’m there.
He looks really pleased with my answer. He turns to peruse some of my framed art. “I like these pen and ink sketches. I used to do those when I was younger.”
“Really? I imagine they require a lot of patience.”
“Which is why I think I did them. It forced me to slow down and focus, not just be angry at the world all the time.”
“Sounds rough. Were you really like that?”
“Yeah, when I was a teen. Now I draw schematics for the holiday stuff.” He laughs softly. “It’s a little more upbeat.” He glances down at his watch. “But hey, we better get going.”
I like that he has a sense of humor about himself. “Sure, let’s go.”
During the ride down the elevator there’s an awkward silence between us. He drums his fingers against the elevator wall.
“What?” I ask.
He smiles. “I guess I’m nervous. I’ve really been looking forward to this.”
If he only knew. I step closer and nudge shoulders with him. “Me too.”
He smiles and squeezes my hand just as the door opens.
When we arrive at Chaya Brassiere I realize that Will must have wanted to make a good impression. I’ve heard great things about this place, but even with the wonderful ambience, his face is the only thing I can focus on.
After our food arrives Will asks me about my work. “So did you ever think you’d end up in reality TV when you went to school?”
“Hardly. I wanted to do documentaries. I had this fantasy of working for someone like Joe Berlinger or Bruce Sinosky and working on films like their great Paradise Lost. I guess I was a big dreamer. In the end I just couldn’t figure out how to make documentaries and pay my rent and student loans.”
“From what I know, it seems like documentaries would be much more meaningful work to you, but I understand having to pay the bills. And this is an expensive city to live in.”
“It sure is. Unfortunately I couldn’t stay in Portland with my family and work in the film business the way I wanted to. At least I’m learning a lot about production. And I’ve made some connections. So hopefully one day…” I pause, feeling determined as I think about my goals.
“You’ll get there,” he says confidently, offering me a bite of his tiramisu.
I lean forward as he brushes the overflowing spoon against my lips. When I part my lips he eases the spoon inside my mouth. I roll my eyes and sigh before responding.
“So how can you be so sure I’ll get what I want?”
“I just have a feeling that you’re not the kind of woman who settles for less.”
I fold my arms across my chest and tilt my head as I appraise him. I wonder if he sees the fire in my eyes. “I never settle.”
On the drive back to my place, and while stopped at a red light we notice several homeless people gathered at the front of a public park. It reminds me of our recent conversation involving the homeless man he wants me to meet.
When the light turns green and he continues driving, I turn to Will. “Will you tell me more about Hank?”
He nods. “I’ve known him a few years. It’s tenuous at times. He can disappear for weeks at a time, and like anyone on the street he has a hard time trusting people, but there’s something about him. I’d like to think of him as a friend, as much as you can, considering the circumstances. He reminds me in many ways of a middle-aged version of my grandfather.”
“With being homeless, where does he sleep at night?”
“The last I knew it was in a park not too far from my house. There’s heavy tree cover and shrubs along part of the perimeter. A small group of homeless people have set up camp in the section near the freeway, where people can’t see them from the park or street.”
We both remain silent all the way back to my apartment. I stare out my window and remember how one of my classmates had made a short film about an older woman who was homeless. She was friends with a group of runaways who lived on the street, too. It was artfully done and very moving.
Finally Will breaks the silence. “You got quiet. What are you thinking about?”
“I’m just remembering a film about a homeless woman a classmate of mind had made. It’s heartbreaking to wonder what kind of life that must be.”
Stopped at another light, he studies me. “It’s a rough one. Believe me.”
“You sound like you—”
“Yeah, I’ve lived on the street. It wasn’t that long—about nine months when I was a teen—but it was long enough. Believe me. No one should have to suffer the indignity that comes along with that. It messed up my head for a long time.”
I sit stunned. Coming from Will it sounds even darker than Steph’s explanation of his past. He lived on the streets for months? Will’s childhood is sounding worse and worse. Can I handle knowing exactly how bad it was?
Will shakes his head and looks upset. “I shouldn’t have told you about that.”
I press my hands together. “Don’t say that. Please don’t regret it. I want to know all about you.”
“I feel the same about you,” he says quietly.
Will’s mood remains serious, but when I reach out to hold his hand, his expression softens. I continue to stare out the window as he drives. I can barely sort out the crazy array of emotions surging through me.
Will parks in front of my place and walks around to open my door. When I get out, he rests his hand on my shoulder and gazes down at me. “Thank you for asking about Hank and wanting to listen to my story. It means a lot to me.”
“Of course,” I say.
“It’s not pretty, but Hank’s situation and what I went through is a reality that’s part of the world we live in.”
I look into his eyes and find pain there. The mood is so much more somber than earlier in our non-date.
He gazes me intently before continuing, “And it’s a part of my life and experience, so I’m kind of glad you know that now.”
At my front door he brushes his fingers along my jaw, cups my chin with his hand, and kisses me gently.
I don’t ask him in, nor does he ask. Instead we kiss sweetly as
I settle into his arms. When we part my expression’s happy.
“What?” he asks, smiling.
“I like hanging out with you.”
He sighs and hugs me tight. “And me with you.”
He kisses me again and then pulls away from me with a long sigh. “I better get going. I’ve got to get up bright and early to get the house ready for this shoot thing that’s happening next week.”
“Is that so?” I tease.
“Yup. I’ve got this crush on this pushy producer I’m working with, so I’ve gotta keep her happy.”
I swoon at the word crush. This man, I sigh. In this moment he’s almost perfect even with his imperfections.
“Then, you’d better get a good night’s sleep. Those producers can get sooo demanding.”
“But there are advantages to this plan. You know what comes with good sleep?” He asks, running his hand firmly down my back and stopping just below my waist.
“What?” I ask as I close my eyes and imagine him stretched out across a bed—preferably naked, or perhaps just with a thin sheet draped over him.
“Dreams,” he whispers in my ear, before easing me against him. “And I’ll be dreaming about you close to me like this.”
My resolve to be good almost crumbles with our final kiss, but he steps away and waits as I let myself inside. Just before I close the door, he rests his hand across on the wooden surface for a moment before whispering, “Sweet dreams, Sophia.”
Chapter Seven
The next morning I wake up and wonder what I’m going to do about Will. Clearly I’m doing a number on myself when a date that was supposed to be work related was romantic. I brush my fingers over my lips when I remember our kisses and the way he held me when he whispered good night.
How can a man be so amazing and hard to figure out at the same time? The only thing I know for sure is that despite my reserve about his extreme obsession with Christmas, I’m crazy about this guy. I resolve to try harder to stay low key until we are done with the shoot, but the closer we get the harder it will be for me to stay professional during production.
My phone rings just after lunch. Anxiously hoping it’s him, I dig through my purse to find it.
“Hi, Sophia,” he says, his voice a combination of creamy dreamy and sexy smooth.
I immediately let go of all my reservations as I melt into my armchair.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask.
“Pretty good. Steph brought over a bunch of Christmas-loving sorority sisters, and among other things, they’ve transformed the kitchen and breakfast room into Santa’s workshop. Romeo was in heaven when they showed up. I finally had to lock him outside.”
“There are a bunch of sorority girls decorating your house?” I ask, sounding uneasy and wondering what “other things” he’s referring to.
“Yes. Frankly, I’d be screwed without them with the first day of shooting next week. A few of them are coming back tomorrow. My friend, Jeremy, came by to help, but he’s acting like Romeo and trying to hook up rather than doing any meaningful work.”
There’s radio silence for a moment as I come to terms with the disturbing visuals in my head. A scene with a bevy of scantily clad co-eds fawning over Will as they primp his fantastical home unfolds in my mind. I squirm with discomfort.
“I think I’ll come help tomorrow too.”
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“Don’t you want me to?” Is there a reason he doesn’t want me there?
“It’s not that…”
“So, what is it?”
“Maybe, I want to wow you when you see it finished next week?”
“I bet all those sorority girls want to wow you too,” I say, my voice edgier than usual.
“Are you jealous?” he asks, amused.
“Should I be?”
“Sophia?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re already under my skin, woman. You’re all I see, all I think about.” He pauses for a moment and then adds, “Don’t you realize what you’re doing to me?”
“Of course I do,” I say, my voice low and sweet. “Because you’re doing the same thing to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, and mark my words, I’m coming over tomorrow. I’m going to have those girls understand they can finish their work and go on their way. I’m the one who stays.”
“Promise?” I can almost hear his smile in his words.
“Girl Scout’s honor.”
The group plans a later start the next day, so Will invites me to breakfast at Dupars with the plan to meet Hank afterward. It’s astounding to watch Will polish off bacon, eggs, and a stack of pancakes before I’ve barely started my half order of French toast. The man can eat.
Afterward we drive around the streets where Will typically finds Hank. Not far from Western and Third Street, Will pulls his truck over.
An older man with a kind face approaches us. Hank’s expression brightens as he gets close to Will’s window.
“Hey Will, I was hoping I’d see you today.” He glances at me and smiles timidly.
“Yeah, Hank. I wanted you to meet Sophia. She’s a TV producer, and I’m working with her on a show about my Christmas house.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Sophia,” Hank says, bowing his head.
“Nice to meet you too, Hank,” I reply.
“So, Hank, I’ve got a job for you,” Will says.
“Anything.”
“We need to set up the yard early this year for this show. We have to do it this Thursday morning around nine. You guys up for it? I’ll pay you like always and pick up lunch.”
“Sure. Five guys again?” Hank asks.
“Yeah, and you can supervise on the ground and be the only one handling the lights, okay? I’ll be doing the ones on the roof.”
“Sounds good,” Hank says, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders. He looks like a guy ready to work.
Will picks up a little box from Dupars and hands it to him through the window. “We got you something at breakfast.”
Hank brushes off his hands before he accepts the box. I note the effort Hank has put into taking care of himself despite his situation. His clothes are clean and somehow he’s shaved and his short hair is combed. From a distance you wouldn’t even suspect he’s homeless.
“Is this what I think it is?” Hank asks, smiling.
“Your favorite—blueberry. Fresh out of the oven too.”
Hank opens the box and sniffs the muffin. A huge grin spreads across his face. Tucked next to the muffin is a folded ten dollar bill.
“Thanks so much, Will. Hey, let me do your windows. They could use a shine.” Hank offers.
“Nah, man, I’ve got to get Sophia home and then back to the house. Besides, you should eat that muffin warm.” He nods to the McDonald’s to their right. “Head over to Mickey D’s and get that coffee you like.”
“I think I will. It’s good to meet you, Miss Sophia.”
“Likewise, Hank,” I answer, smiling.
He holds up his box. “Bless you, Will.”
Will nods. “Take it easy, Hank. We’ll see you soon.”
As we continue toward my apartment, I think about Will’s conversation with Hank.
“And they help you every year?” I ask, curious how Will has developed relationships with Hank and his friends.
“Yeah,” Will says.
“How did Hank came to live on the street? He seems like the kind of man who would have family to help him out.”
“Well, Hank worked in maintenance for years at Boeing before they shut down and his life started sliding downhill. When I first met him he was living in subsidized housing after not being able to find work, losing his home, and being flattened by a mountain of medical bills after his wife died. But he hated that subsidized place, got into a big fight with his neighbor, and was thrown out.”
“He doesn’t have any family left to help him? I ask, feeling overwhelmed by his situation.
“Why doesn’t he do that?”
“I guess she has a roommate and they share a tiny apartment. On top of that, Hank says he can’t handle New York.”
“How awful. That’s such a sad story.”
“There’s a lot of stories out there on the streets that are much more complicated than people think. It’s not just drug addicts, the mentally ill, or lazy people.”
His comment plants an idea in my mind for my own documentary short film project. Maybe I could get Aaron and some of the guys on board. For a fleeting moment I envision it all in my mind and wonder if meeting Will might lead to a greater purpose in my life.
The next day, it’s just past noon when I approach Will’s front door and ring the bell.
He pulls open the door with a smile. “My afternoon just got a whole lot better. Did you finish your work at home?”
“Yes. Sorry, it took longer than I thought but look what I brought for you.” I hold out a platter of cupcakes I baked yesterday for the occasion.
“For me?” he asks, grinning.
I scrunch my nose. “And those girls in there helping you.”
He takes the platter in his right hand as he gives me a one-armed hug with the other. I curl up against him and tilt my face up for a kiss.
“You’re a sweetheart. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” It feels so good to be close to him, to have his lips pressed against mine. “I’ve been looking forward to that,” I whisper.
“Me too. You have great timing. You’re saving me,” he says, leading me into the house.
I arch my brow. “From what exactly?”
“An eager helper. Her name is Liza, and she just asked if I was interested in renting her a room. She said she’d cook for me.”
“Oh, really? By all means, I’d love to meet her.”
He grins even wider. “This should be interesting.”
Once inside, Will sets the cupcakes in the kitchen. I’m impressed by the transformation of this room into Santa’s Sweet Shop. There are large glass apothecary jars full of colorful candies lined up against the back of the counters and elaborate gingerbread houses on every surface. There are even lights shaped like little peppermints lining the windows.