Still In Love With Her

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “I’m going to get this over with so you can relax. You applied for Maggie’s position, and it’s yours.”

  She gasped. “The job is mine?”

  “If Maggie puts her trust in you, then so will I. Your new position starts effective immediately. I’ll message Lena.” He was already putting his computer in his bag. “I’m supposed to interview six candidates today. You’ll interview them. If there’s any talent you want to explore, then find a place for them on your team. If not, tell them thank you and we’ll call them next week to inform them of our decision.” He winked.

  Linda had turned red, although she remained as cool as a cucumber. “Yes, I will.” She stood. “Thank you, Mr. Adams.”

  He hung his bag on his shoulder. “Can you not call me Mr. Adams anymore? I’m Vince.”

  She beamed. “Yes, Vince. I’ll call you Vince.”

  Vince grinned. It felt good to make a woman that happy. “Good. See you soon.” He bolted toward the door.

  “Oh, Vince?” Linda said.

  He turned to face her. “Yes.”

  “Do you mind if I call Maggie and share the good news?”

  Just hearing Maggie’s name made his pulse race. “No, I don’t mind.”

  Linda frowned as if it took her a moment to realize he had given her permission to inform Maggie. “Thank you—for everything.”

  He winked and went on his way. He couldn’t wait until Maggie heard the news. Maybe hiring her protégé would benefit him in more ways than one.

  ***

  Maggie

  It’s time to go to work, and boy, has my work attire changed. I’m wearing a white tank top, black leather miniskirt, and silver pumps. Monroe’s boyfriend, Dash, has shown up. I finally know what he does for a living. He’s our personal paparazzo.

  Dash opens a suitcase and shows Delta and me his collection of cameras. He takes out the smallest one. “This baby is compact but powerful. I can get a good shot, hook it into my phone, load the images, and you’ll be on everyone’s radar within the hour.”

  “Not before we have a verbal agreement on the contract with Francesca. We want to capitalize on this opportunity, but we don’t want to start something we won’t be able to finish,” I say.

  “She’s not going to say no to me,” Delta says.

  I study how self-assured he seems and hope he’s right. “Francesca will be five minutes behind us.”

  “I know the drill, Maggie.” Delta tilts his head. “You’re uptight, but I like that about you. It’s sexy. And you look sexy tonight.”

  I frown. “I’m not uptight.”

  He nods. “Oh yeah, you are.”

  “You’re uptight,” Dash says, pointing his camera at me.

  “Whatever…” If that’s how they perceive me, so be it.

  “What about you, Dash? What are you into?” Delta asks, staring at Dash’s package.

  Dash snaps pictures of me. “Pussy.”

  “Only?”

  “Only.”

  “Your loss,” Delta says.

  Monroe struts out of the bedroom in a red bandage dress that’s only an inch away from showing her snatch. Her long hair is bone straight, and her eyelashes are longer and thicker than usual. Dash whistles his approval. Monroe poses as he snaps shots of her. I’m waiting for Delta to invite Monroe to sit on his face or something.

  Instead, he points his hand toward the door and says, “Let’s hit the road.”

  Monroe takes my arm. “Let’s go get her. Client number two.”

  We get into the elevator, and Monroe and Dash start kissing. Delta looks at my legs. I frown at him inquisitively.

  “A miniskirt?” he asks.

  “What’s wrong with a miniskirt?”

  “If you want me to respect your lines, then you can’t make it so fucking easy to get to.”

  I look down at myself. “Shit, I didn’t even consider the fact that you’re like a spoiled child who lacks self-control when I dressed myself for the night.”

  Monroe chuckles into Dash’s mouth. Delta snorts and shakes his head, apparently appreciating my sarcasm.

  The hotel has a subterranean level, and our car waits for us there. We load up. Delta pours us a drink, and we toast to his forthcoming transformation.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Fresh Contracts

  Sorbet is a club located in an eighteenth-century row house with six floors. The club is trendy, busy, and loud. We take the stairs to the top level, which is by invitation only, so that fans can stroke Delta’s inflated ego along the way. He waves, takes photos, blows kisses, and winks, eating up the attention. The racket his presence stirs is rivaled by the buzzing coming from the lower floors. Francesca must’ve arrived.

  We make it to the top floor, and Delta gawks at the four scantily clad women performing on a stage in the middle of the room. They’re rapping in French, and their music is just as sensual as the dim lighting and red-velvet ottomans, sofas, and booths set up throughout the room. There are a lot of people up here, and Delta greets those he knows with a kiss on the lips. One guy wearing full eye makeup whispers in Delta’s ear.

  “You’ve had your turn, bro!” Delta says without braking. He likes being the big man on campus, and he’s basking in the attention.

  We arrive at our reserved booth and take seats around a white table that changes colors. Delta turns to the server and places an order. I can’t hear what he’s saying over the music, but the guy nods and scurries away.

  Delta puts his face too close to mine and rubs my thigh. “Are you still uptight?”

  I’m monitoring how close he gets to my goods. “What if I am, and what if I’m not?”

  He sneers, studying me. “What was that? A riddle?”

  “It’s just a question. My answer depends on the result.”

  Delta laughs and shakes his finger. “Right…”

  I lean toward Monroe. “What’s taking Francesca so long to get up here?”

  In my mind, the night will be short and to the point. We’ll have a drink or two, ask Francesca a couple of questions to make sure she isn’t a psycho, and see if there’s marketable chemistry between her and Delta. If they have enough of a connection, then we take the next step. If they revile each other, then we’ll move on to the next candidate—although I’m positive Francesca is the one.

  “Patience,” Monroe says. “It can’t look like we set this up, Mags.”

  I try to relax and appear as though I’m here for pleasure and not for business. Delta is doing a lot of talking, but I can only make out parts of what he’s saying. He’s telling us about the first time he visited this nightclub. He mentions the band, and, if I’m not mistaken, he says, “Mounds of blow.”

  “What did you just say?” I shout.

  Delta doesn’t hear me. The waiter is back with a cart loaded with bottles of alcohol on racks, and he gives Delta a metal plate. Delta takes a small bag of coke out of his pocket and sweeps the substance into the indentations on the plate. He prepares his servings with the ease of pouring a glass of water. Then he sniffs one line, two, then three.

  Delta hands the plate to Monroe. “Dig in.”

  She pinches one nostril and inhales a white line with the other. I’m not shocked that she sniffs coke. Delta gives me an impish look. I’m waiting for him to pressure me to take a hit, but he doesn’t.

  The girl band brings their song to an end, and “Let’s Dance” by David Bowie cuts on.

  “Let’s dance,” Monroe says and grabs Delta’s hand.

  Buzzed, they prance their way to the dance floor. I lose sight of them in the crowd, so I check my phone to see if Vince has called or texted me. Instead there’s a message from “the Scoundrel.”

  “Where r u,” it says.

  I’m hesitant about replying. I want to put distance between us, but sitting alone in a noisy nightclub waiting for shit to happen makes me restless.

  “I’m in London,” I write.

  “Me too. Where?”

  I roll
my eyes. Robert is clearly screwing with me. “Sorbet.”

  “Only a few blocks away. Meet me outside.”

  My eyes expand. “Don’t believe you.”

  “Believe me and meet me.”

  I scratch my forehead. Is this really happening? “Why?”

  “To talk.”

  I’m on the verge of writing, “About what?” but I already know the answer. Yes, we need to talk.

  “Ok. Will meet u,” I write.

  I hug myself because it’s chilly outside. Robert is already out here, leaning against the wall and puffing on a cigarette. The collar of his black leather jacket is flipped up. He’s a long, lean drink of something addictive. He smirks at me upon eye contact, drops his cigarette, and smashes it with his foot. One look at him, and I remember the other night. His skills in the bedroom are unmatched, even by Vince.

  “What are you doing in London?” I ask.

  He smirks. “No small talk first?”

  Due to our recent encounter, I’m not as repulsed by his smirk as I used to be. It’s suggestive but honest. He is the embodiment of sensual sex.

  “How are you?” I say brusquely.

  “I’ve been better. I’m in London because no one knows what the hell to do without you.”

  I grimace as I hug myself tighter. “And they called you to the rescue?” My tone is sarcastic.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  “That’s obvious.”

  “My room isn’t too far from here.”

  I snort. “I’m not going to your room.”

  He laughs. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t try anything. I have a confession.” He pauses and waits for my reaction.

  I crumple my eyebrows.

  “I can’t stop thinking about what we did—all of it.”

  “So how long are you going to stand there with your jacket on while I’m freezing?” I shake a finger at him. “That’s my number-one issue with you. You aren’t chivalrous.”

  Robert takes off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. “Now do you want to go back to my room?”

  “You’re also impossible, and look at this…” I raise my ring finger. At the moment, the beautiful jewelry is as light as an eyelash on my finger.

  “I thought I saw you take that off.”

  “Vince put it back on.”

  “He personally put it on your finger?”

  I nod.

  Robert tosses his head back and yells, “Fuck! Fucking Vince!”

  I’m pretty surprised by his reaction.

  “Am I supposed to be in love with you for the rest of my life?”

  “You don’t love me. You were coming on to my assistant right in front of me,” I say.

  “Then you don’t trust me? Is that why you’re choosing Vince?”

  “No, I don’t trust you, but that’s not why I’m choosing to do whatever the hell I have to do to keep Vince. I just love him, that’s all.”

  “But you and me, we have chemistry. You really don’t want more of the other night?”

  I laugh bitterly. “That’s what you were counting on?”

  He shrugs.

  “Yeah, you are an amazing lay. I climaxed so much I probably would’ve gone blind if you’d kept it up. But Robert, I’m not the kind of woman who chases after a prime fuck. Vince is in my heart. He’s in my pores. I can’t breathe without him.”

  Robert and I turn at the same time to look at a group of people who are huddled together and smoking about five feet away.

  He puts an arm around me. “Let’s walk.”

  We’re moving along before I can acquiesce, which is something else about him that makes my panties dry. We pass a pub that I’ve been to before. They have the tastiest “chips,” which are french fries in American-speak. I’m hungry again.

  “If I ask you a question, would you answer honestly?” he asks.

  “I always do.”

  “There’s not even a tiny bit of you that wants more of Monday night?” He measures a small amount of air with two fingers. “Just this much?”

  I glance at him sideways. “You know what I think?”

  “Is this the part where you try to tell me what’s wrong with me?”

  “I think you’re like a child surrounded by all of your toys. They’re piled up to the ceiling. But all you want is Vince’s rattle because it’s his favorite thing to play with. Monroe has the same problem, except she loves me way too much to make a pass at my boyfriend.”

  We listen to our feet shuffling up the sidewalk. Horns honk. People pass us.

  “He said he and I are finished,” Robert says.

  “Vince said you and him are done?”

  “Yeah,” he barely says.

  I picture what we were doing when he walked in on us. “I’m surprised he hasn’t left me out in the rain. Gosh, you were… And I was…” I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory.

  Robert draws me against his hard body. “It’ll be worth it if you come back to my room with me.”

  “And then what?”

  “Let’s do it differently. Let’s make love.”

  “And then what?”

  He sighs. “What the fuck?”

  I grunt. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t want ever to put that look on Vince’s face again.”

  Robert stares into my eyes as if he trying to change my mind. Finally he nods. “All right. Me neither.”

  “Good. We’re on the same page.”

  “Well, do you want to go grab a drink, at least?”

  “I’m working.”

  “Are you really going through with this quitting shit?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then I’ll be seeing a lot less of you.”

  “No one else to mind-fuck?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “There’s Mavis.”

  I lean back to make sure he sees the warning in my expression. “If you screw with her, I’ll hang you by your balls and throw hot coals at you.”

  He flexes his eyebrows. “Promise?”

  “You’re impossible.”

  His body shakes when he laughs, and it dawns on me that we’re still embracing.

  “Plus as soon as we become profitable, I’m going to make her an offer she can’t refuse,” I say.

  “Then I’ll double your offer.”

  I feel my face crumple. “You suck.”

  “Oh, that’s way too easy.”

  We look into each other’s eyes, smiling.

  “A kiss before we say good-bye?” he asks.

  “What the hell,” I say.

  Robert comes in slowly as if he’s savoring the moment. Our lips lock. His tongue tastes like whisky and cigarettes. I don’t feel weak in the knees, and my head doesn’t swim. I like Robert more than I did before we smashed, but I just don’t love him. We step away from each other, I undrape his jacket from around me, and hand it back.

  “Do you want to come in and join us? Monroe’s upstairs. I think it’s about time you two get better acquainted.”

  He takes his jacket. “I’m not interested in your friend, Maggie.” He sounds as though I’ve insulted him.

  “I’m not offering her as a consolation prize.”

  “She’s not my type.”

  “No? I think you two are perfect for each other.”

  “Then you’re wrong. Plus I have something brewing at Hokey-Pokey around the corner.” He points his thumb over his shoulder.

  I’m not surprised that he was trying to catch one fish while having another on the line.

  “Well…” I say.

  “Okay…”

  There’s nothing more to say but good-bye. I feel as though I’ve got this part of my life under control for the time being. Vince can trust that Robert is completely out of my system.

  I skip up all six flights of stairs, and I’m only slightly winded when I reach the top. Francesca and her manager, Aiden, are seated around the table. Her thin legs, which are confined by tight blue jeans, are draped over
Delta’s lap. An attractive young man wearing a black business suit sits close to Delta. The guy’s hair is slicked back, and he’s talking and gesturing wildly. Whatever he’s saying must be pretty interesting because he has the attention of everyone except the two dark-haired, slender girls with super-red lipstick who are standing near Aiden’s shoulder and humping the air out of rhythm. The girls appear to be identical twins. Monroe sits in the middle of the group. The key people turn their attention toward me when I sit next to the guy in the suit. I’m momentarily caught off guard by how good he smells.

  “Where the hell did you go?” Monroe asks.

  “I had to take care of something.”

  Her eyes narrow curiously. I can tell that she wants to ask a follow-up question, but now isn’t the time or place.

  “Did you take care of it?” Delta asks.

  “I did. It looks like the two of you have gotten better acquainted. Are we ready to move forward?” I ask.

  Monroe rolls her eyes, which is a clue that there’s a bump in the road.

  Delta slides Francesca off his lap. “Time to unclench those ass cheeks of yours, Maggie.” He gestures to the server. “The special brew!”

  The server glances at me then brings a bottle of wine from under his cart. It’s already uncapped, and white vapor snakes out of the neck.

  “I’ll loosen up when I know we have a deal,” I say.

  Francesca studies my chest as though she can see right through my shirt. “So you’re Maggie?”

  I glance at my tits to make sure they’re still covered. “I am.”

  “I didn’t know you were so…” She chews on her bottom lip and finishes undressing me with her eyes. Francesca is wearing a see-through blouse with no bra, and her nipples are right in Delta’s face.

  I shift uncomfortably. “Did Monroe explain—”

  “Get a drink in her mouth now!” Delta says.

  The server hands me a glass filled with clear, greenish liquid. I set it on the table. People like Delta and Francesca are used to others jumping through hoops, but I’m not their trained monkey.

  “I’m not drinking this until our deal is done.” My tone says that I mean business.

  Delta motions to the server. The guy pulls out another silver tray.