Un-Nappily in Love

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “Why do you hate me?”

  He shook his head and kept walking.

  She sidestepped and used her muscular dancing legs to keep pace with him. “How did you get that room?” The realization hit her. “Why didn’t you say something? You were staring out the window the whole time. You saw the planes not taking off. All of ’em just sittin’ out there and you knew, didn’t you?”

  He hunched his shoulders. She followed him out to the mile-long stretch of people waiting for a taxi. The line was moving at a snail’s pace. Fumes rose off the idling engines of cars parked at the curb and went directly up her nose. She had to gulp two or three times before she could talk. “You can’t leave me here,” she whined.

  She’d wanted to pretend to be vulnerable, not really be vulnerable. It made her sick to need anyone. But here she was, outside LaGuardia Airport with no team, no Quincy her bodyguard, no Leshawn her personal assistant. Ramona was inept and completely incapable of handling someone of Sirena’s star quality. Her manager, Keisha, had warned her about traveling without her crew. Without someone with her best interest as first priority. But she hadn’t wanted any distractions between her and Jake. It was the perfect opportunity to be alone with him.

  “Please, Jay. I can’t stay here.”

  “I’ve only got one room. Sorry, sweetheart,” he said without even looking in her direction.

  “I can’t believe you’re treating me this way.” She talked to his wide back. “Since when did you become this cruel? If this is what marriage does for you, I’m glad I never took that plunge.”

  He whipped around, startling her. She bounced back, bumping into the people in the line behind her.

  “Truer words have never been spoken.” He still smelled of the alcohol she’d thrown on him, as if he’d been boozing it up all afternoon. But she knew different. This was a sober man telling her exactly how he felt.

  “You know what … fuck you,” she yelled.

  He turned and grabbed her, squeezing her arms to her side. “All right. Chill. This shit will be posted on some gossip rag by sundown.” He knew every single person within two feet had a camera phone and they’d just given a ridiculous show of epic proportion.

  She dropped her head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I will never be happy until you forgive me.” In that same instant he let her go.

  “Forgive you for what?”

  She welled up, unable to speak.

  “You can’t even say it, can you? If you can’t forgive yourself, what do you expect me to do?”

  Once again he was right. Cameras were always watching. Except they were real pictures by real photographers who were paid handsomely to catch an opportunity such as this. Paid to make it appear to be something that it wasn’t. Or maybe it was exactly as it appeared. A married man with his famous lover clutched in a tearful embrace, a final good-bye. He hated the camera-toting stalkers. He hated the lies, and falsehoods. He hated the need for a celebrity to have their whole life at everyone’s instant disposal. Privacy was something he’d cherished. Now a thing of the past like cassette tapes. There was no hiding—if someone wanted to find you they could.

  They hopped into a cab. Jake watched over Sirena’s shoulder as she typed into her phone. Sending out a message to her endless number of fans, Have no fear. I’m safe and in good hands.

  My hands, he assumed. Bottom line, he folded his arms over his chest, just more lies.

  Party Favors

  “Look what the cat dragged in.” Trevelle lifts her eyes up over the skinny reading glasses. “We got a couple of new orders. I was looking them up to see how to arrange them, seeing as how I had to man the ship alone.”

  “I’m sorry. And thank you. But where’s Vin?”

  “Good question.”

  I kept looking at my watch. It was Monday, and Vince usually opened the place up at eight. “How’d you get in?”

  Trevelle turned her head toward me as if I was bothering her. “Obviously I have a key.”

  My lips were poised for, why do you have a key? Instead I said, “Oh, good.” I faced the wall and fought not to choke myself. Vince was missing and he’d given Trevelle a key. My key to my place of business.

  I had a part-timer who came in three days a week. Jackie was in her eighties but you’d never know it. She could do in three hours what would take me all day. Her arrangements were what I used as displays in hotels and restaurants to get more business.

  “Did Jackie call?” I asked, determined to change the subject and not to focus on something so small, even though everyone I’d come to depend on seemed to be missing.

  “No.” Trevelle’s answer was short and to the point.

  “She should’ve been here. I’m worried.”

  Her silence persisted.

  “Okay, Trevelle, once again I am in your debt. I have an appointment at the Monarch Hotel.” I looked at my watch again. “Do you mind continuing to man the ship?”

  “I will be here,” she sang. “Sitting here not because I have to, but because I enjoy it. Regardless of whether I am appreciated or not.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I appreciate it, very much. I’m sure Jackie is on her way. And Vince should be here soon.”

  “Ahuh.” She continued her refrain.

  I gathered the one arrangement and my marketing materials. Three weeks of calling finally got me an appointment and all I had was a single arrangement with a number of wide-eyed chrysanthemums in warm fall colors.

  The Monarch Hotel was brand-new. I’d started calling for a meeting the minute the windows went in. If not me it would be someone else, was the way I saw it.

  So why not me?

  The lobby smelled new. I’d worn my favorite suit. The cream wool blend was timeless. The skirt needed to be let out in the hips, a bit snug. Nothing a pair of Spanx couldn’t fix. I strolled with confidence, though my heels felt uneasy on the brand-new shiny floor.

  I set the arrangement on the farthest check-in counter as if it belonged. Stunning. The vibrant burgundy and orange flowers complemented the pearl color of the marble floor and counters. I made sure the In Bloom business card sat out prominently in the front.

  “Hi there, I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Carter.”

  “Welcome to the Monarch,” the young man echoed what he’d been repeating all day. “How can I help you this afternoon?”

  “I have an appointment with the hotel manager, Mr. Carter.”

  “Yes. Your name.”

  “Venus Parson.”

  He typed on his keyboard. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  The clientele mingling in the lobby were all suit types. Men and women extending stiff handshakes reminded me why I liked having my own business. I’d spent years prancing around in corporate halls, pressed suits, pressed hair, sucking up to whomever was in control.

  I inhaled my freedom and took a seat on the couch where I could have a direct view of the floral arrangement. Trevelle had made it and I hadn’t said a word of thank you. I would either have to start being extra nice or put her on the payroll. Both painful choices. As far as I was concerned she still owed me for the anxiety, pain, and money I’d spent fighting the custody case for Mya. Gratitude was hard to come by when all I was thinking about was what she’d tried to take away from me.

  I sat patiently, trying not to look at the time. At least twenty minutes had passed. I tried to get the attention of the young man who’d greeted me. Remind him I was waiting.

  A large man came face-to-face with him before I could catch his eye. I would’ve guessed Mr. Carter if he hadn’t been carrying a briefcase and had a woman hanging on his arm.

  “Welcome to the Monarch. Are you checking in, sir?” the young man greeted.

  “Checking in. Dr. Benjamin Rivera.”

  Tiny hairs on my arms and neck stood up. Miriam’s husband? Ben Rivera. Tingling nervousness moved along the surface of my entire body. My feet suddenly felt numb, though all I could think of was to run
out of there and call Miriam. Then I remembered her wig. I hadn’t recognized her at the recital. Maybe it was her and Ben rekindling at the Monarch Hotel. I gave her a good once-over.

  The woman was smaller than Miriam. A bit taller, but way too slim.

  “We have you here with us for one night. Will Mrs. Rivera be needing a key also?”

  “One is fine.” He leaned his large brown head into the lady with dark straight hair slightly flipped up on the end. They nuzzled nose to nose. I’d only seen him once or twice in passing. Had his name not been announced, I’d never have recognized him … but here he was like a big red target with a lighted arrow pointed at his indiscretion. Why now, why me? I didn’t want to be a witness to this crime.

  “Venus, hello. I’m Will Carter.”

  Midswallow, “Hello.” He offered his hand. My grip was weak and unsteady. Poor Miriam. “Thank you … I brought flowers.”

  “Yes. Good.” His brow raised, sensing I was off balance. “I saw them. They’re wonderful. Let me get you some water, or juice. Something you prefer?” He was gone before I could answer. His short squatty legs moved fast. He came back with a sweating bottle of orange juice with a napkin that was already soaked through. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

  “No. I’ve just been fighting something.” I used the napkin to pat my forehead and nose. “Nothing to do with this beautiful place.” I gulped the juice and fought from turning my head toward Ben. “If you’ve got to wait, here is the place to do it. Monarch is just breathtaking.”

  “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just three hundred million dollars and a work in progress.”

  “I can see every penny of it.” I looked overhead at the enormous chandeliers. Old-world style at the current prices. “I know you were expecting more of a sampling.”

  “I’m impressed, trust me. The wife of JP holding down her own business—that’s to be commended.”

  “Oh … yes …” I blinked back the recognition. “Let me assure you, In Bloom is a bona fide full-service floral center. We put effort and pride into each arrangement. Your deliveries are guaranteed to last seven days. No limp willies.”

  He grinned. “You have the contract.”

  I was relieved. “Enough said, then. Thank you.”

  “Come, let me show you the areas we need to fill.”

  I took a chance and glanced in the direction where Ben and his mistress were last standing. All clear. I followed behind the manager. The place was massive. I was listening and writing while he talked.

  “We have twenty floors.”

  “So you’ll need an arrangement at each elevator.”

  “Absolutely.”

  I was calculating the bounty in my head. Multiply that by fifty-two weeks. I’m rich, rich, I tell you, filthy rich.

  “I’m assuming you will attend our grand opening.”

  “Oh yes. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “And your husband. I’m sure he’s a busy man, but it would be great attention for the hotel if he and Sirena arrived. We do this whole red-carpet thing. Make sure the media is on the case.” His knees butted together when he stood still.

  “When, exactly? The date. I’d have to clear it with his publicist.”

  He relaxed his hands in his pockets. His stance said we weren’t taking another step until this part of the offer was noted and accepted.

  “I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” I added.

  “We’d need Sirena there too.”

  “I really can’t speak for Sirena,” I said lightly as possible.

  “I’ll make sure you get two formal invitations.” He held up his fingers so there was no mistaking his terms. All or none. He was back in stride. His short legs sure could move.

  Ring the Alarm

  How would he explain this to Venus? She’d understood everything else—missing the recital, not calling—but not this. No way she understood this, even if the story was about as predictable as humanly possible. A bomb threat was about as plausible as “the dog ate my homework.” Excuses. The same way he hadn’t believed her story the night he’d found her ex-boyfriend, Clint Fairchild, in her hotel room. After flying cross-country he swung first and asked questions later. There was nothing Venus said or could’ve said that was enough. No matter how many times she explained how their room keys got mixed up, he couldn’t hear her because he hated Clint Fairchild from the beginning. Didn’t trust him.

  But it was all about trust, his wife had said. “If you trusted me, none of this would’ve happened.” He mocked her voice in his head. Still angry when he thought about it. Now it would be her turn. The shoe was on the other foot. She simply had to trust him.

  He’d start by explaining with the fact he couldn’t bear to see a woman cry. Any woman, for that matter. He’d watched and listened to his mother’s sobbing over one man or another. Going through men like they were Kleenex tissue. As a child, he never understood why he and his brother weren’t enough to make his mother happy. He took it personal. Very personal. There were other things, plenty to be grateful for. Living, breathing, seeing a sunset.

  Regardless of what he understood now as a grown man, a woman’s tears meant he was at fault. Crying over a man was the worst offense; even if the tears were over him, somehow he’d failed.

  “Let’s go.” He held the taxi door open for Sirena to get in as she sobbed.

  As they pulled away, they passed Ramona, who was obviously looking for them. His phone started buzzing.

  He held up a hand to silence Sirena. “Yeah, Ramona.”

  “Where are you two?”

  “We’re on our way to the Renaissance,” he said nonchalantly as if it were a practice run for his own situation. “One room. At the Renaissance,” he repeated. “That’s all they had left and I snagged it. Let me know when the airport clears us for departure. I want to be on the first thing smoking.”

  When he hung up, Sirena had inched her way under his arm. He had to lift and slide over her just to snap his phone back on his belt.

  “I’m sorry about throwing the drink on you. I’m sorry about Tommy. All the old emotions coming out. It was hard for me too. If I could change time, I would.”

  He nodded. “It’s squashed. Like you said, the past is the past.” He cracked the window, grateful for the sooty air versus inhaling her perfume. Her mascara was streaked and smudged around her eyes. Her vulnerability scared him as it always did.

  He adjusted himself in the backseat of the cab, desperate for his own space. They were moving in the opposite direction of traffic. He felt like he was going backward, traveling down a road he had no control of, toward a bullet aimed directly at his head.

  “So only one room. Who gets the bed?” She grinned. Her apple cheeks glowed with color when only moments ago, she was a sobbing mess. She slung her hair over one shoulder, grazing his face.

  “We’ll work it out,” he said calmly, though underneath, his hurried heartbeat was a sign of things to come. He hadn’t had an asthma attack in some years. The last time was when Venus had caught Beverly, his designer from JP Wear, giving him a very personal fitting.

  Now here he was again, walking a very fine tightrope.

  He kept his eye on his phone, waiting for information about the airport reopening. He sent a text to Venus letting her know there was another flight delay, but not a word more.

  “You’re awake.” Sirena was wrapped with a towel that barely closed. Fully aware that the towel conveniently showed her V-spot, smooth except for the little stash of hair trimmed like a little old man’s beard.

  He closed his eyes, but only after a few seconds too long. “Yeah, wide-awake. I can’t believe Ramona never called. The airport can’t still be shut down.” It was hours later and Jake had awakened in the bed where he wasn’t supposed to be. As lavish as the hotel room appeared, with satin drapes and scrolled arms on the high-backed chairs, there was barely enough room to walk around the king-size bed. He’d stretched out blankets and pillows on the floor, but that ha
dn’t lasted long.

  “I ordered something for us to eat.”

  Jake rolled over and looked for his phone, which was never more than an arm’s reach away. Lately he’d gotten sloppy—in more ways than one. Instead his eyes landed on the condom wrapper.

  “Looking for this?” Sirena held up the black case. She walked it over to him. “It was on the floor so I put it out of harm’s way.” She leaned over him. “My earring.” She picked up the gold hoop of charms and jangled it. “Guess things got a little crazy.”

  “Sirena, this stays between you and me, you understand.”

  “Of course. I have as much to lose as you. In fact, more.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “My reputation,” she exclaimed. “I’m supposed to be all about girl power and I’m setting myself up for failure with a married man.” Her voice softened. “Circumstances. What do you do?”

  He could’ve corrected her. In fact his mind was shouting how wrong she was. He could’ve made it clear right then and there. There were no circumstances, only the fact that he would never leave Venus, plain and simple.

  He grabbed Sirena’s face and called her by the name he’d used so long ago. “Cee Cee, listen …” Instead she pecked him on the lips. He let out an exhausted breath. “Promise me this will go no further. Not to your girlfriends, your manager, not even into one of those journals you like to keep.”

  “I promise. I understand. I’m not pushing. I have a fiancé, you have a wife. What’s between us, stays between us.”

  He stuck out his pinkie the way Mya always made him. “Pinkie swear.”

  Sirena linked her finger around his. “I’m not the one you have to worry about. You were always too honest for your own good, Jay.” She rose, letting her towel fall. “Gotta get dressed. Ordered you a stack of pancakes and an omelet.”

  It began with a pillow fight. The way they used to play. She always started it, taking the first swing. When he wouldn’t respond, then a second and a third until he was so mad he had to fight back. Pillow warfare.