by Alyssa Cole
They went into the entry and up two flights of stairs, tracing the smoky scent of incense up to a door with the word DREAM stenciled on it. The smell reminded her of stepping into the priestess’s temple, but with heavier, more pungent aromas than the delicate natural odor of eng oil.
The apartment had a look somewhere between ascetic and “went wild at Drukanese wholesale store.” The walls were a stark white, free of any hangings, and the floors were clean, dark wood, but the floors were scattered with pillows in rich purple, blue, and pink, edged with gold. Low wooden coffee tables of wood with the Drukanese bodhisattvas carved into them appeared every few meters, with incense burning in receptacles at their center. Dark, heavy curtains blocked the winter sun so that the play of a light show—first green, then blue, and then purple, undulating through the room like ripples on water—were visible. A kind of atonal music played in the background, Zen but modern.
“Hmm. This is where we’re going to chill?” Likotsi looked around. A white man with a beard sat cross-legged in one corner, hands resting on his knees and eyes closed. “I thought it was going to be an ice cream parlor or something.”
Fab scoffed. “Like I’d be busting out Mr. Freeze–level puns. I’m not that corny.”
“Well. An ice cream shop has a purpose. Whereas this place . . .” Likotsi shrugged, ignoring the way Fab narrowed her eyes. “I can sit and stream weird music at home.”
“Or you can sit with me. I’m giving you culture here.” Fab took her hand again, leading Likotsi toward some misshapen abomination of a piece of furniture.
“Is this . . . a bean bag? How many other people do you think have sat on this thing?” Likotsi glared at the satin-covered lump, but when Fab flopped into it and looked up at her expectantly, she followed her.
The small, beady material inside shifted in a wave as she perched on the rounded edge of it, rolling Fab closer to her.
“I feel like I’m in the ball pit at a children’s gymnasium.” She settled into the bean bag more firmly, then inhaled deeply. The incense really was quite strong. “I hope you haven’t brought me to some kind of opium den. I’m on vacation, but I should still avoid situations where—”
“Likotsi,” Fab chided, but then laughed, settling a bit closer. “I’m really going to need to know what kind of life you’re living where your first assumptions about places I take you are organ thievery and opium dens. Chill.”
Her hand rested on Likotsi’s shoulder for a second, the briefest press that made her realize she was sitting stiffly with her hands on her knees.
“All right.” She shimmied her shoulders to loosen them and then allowed herself to recline into the bean bag. She wasn’t a fan of the texture, but it was comfortable once you relaxed a bit.
Fab lay back beside Likotsi. “It’s art. Like, the music sounds different when you’re in different parts of the room. The incense is supposed to relax you. And you can just sit and clear your mind. It’s like . . . an escape.”
“Oh goddess, don’t tell me we’re locked in here.” Likotsi sat up alarmed. “I’m not paying to be locked in a room and forced to solve problems.”
Fab rolled her eyes. “Not an escape room. An escape. From the world.”
There was something in Fab’s tone that grabbed Likotsi’s attention—maybe it was the way Fab spoke so evenly, trying to make it seem as if everyone wanted an escape from the world.
“What do you have to escape from?” Likotsi asked gently.
When Fab looked over at her, her eyes were glossy. “You.”
Any gentleness that had been in Likotsi was leached out of her by the twist of her heart. Fab was looking at her wide-eyed and teary, as if she wasn’t the architect of the misery hut Likotsi had shut herself in for nearly eight months. Was Likotsi supposed to pity her? The hand that rested between her and Fab balled slowly into a fist.
She sucked her teeth, a long, annoyed sound that her grandmother would have been proud of. “You managed that quite well last May. There wasn’t very much for you to escape from and you’re the one who brought me here.”
Fab shook her head but didn’t meet Likotsi’s eyes. “I’ve thought about you every day, but I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you until I saw you on the train and felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
“Then why didn’t you message me back?” Likotsi asked in a harsh whisper. She tried to sit up and give Fab her stern look, the one she usually saved for overly self-important diplomats, but she sank more deeply into the bean bag. “We could have been talking all this time. I’ve been here for months.”
“Because I kept hoping that one day I’d wake up and I wouldn’t think of you.” Fab spoke slowly, with a resignation that Likotsi knew in her bones even if she couldn’t understand why Fab, breaker of hearts, would be experiencing that emotion. Fab leaned back on the bean bag and closed her eyes. “And because it couldn’t lead to anything. Neither of us wanted to do a long-distance relationship, remember? You were supposed to leave and not come back.”
“Well, that’s what we said on the first date.” Likotsi leaned back and stared up at the stream of orange light being projected onto the ceiling. It was actually quite mesmerizing, how it flowed quickly in some places and slower in others. Like rivers. Like blood. Like hope. “By the last date I’d thought . . .”
“I know,” Fab said, taking her hand again. She cradled Likotsi’s fingers so gently now, not holding them tightly, and Likotsi wondered if that meant she had changed her mind about not letting go.
That was a flight of fancy, not fact.
“Why are you being so mysterious?” She squeezed Fab’s hand. “You aren’t ill, are you?”
The thought of having found Fab only to lose her left a sick knot of worry in Likotsi’s throat. She’d wanted to say goodbye to Fab forever today, on some level. That had been her plan. But there was goodbye and there was goodbye.
“I’m not sick.” Fab rolled her head to the side and they looked at each other. “It’s kind of silly when compared to that. I’m just . . . everything I thought I was gonna do with my life? Got pushed to the side. Because of family. And I don’t regret it, because I love my family, but I resent it. Man, do I resent it.”
Likotsi understood Fab’s reticence now—her story was also someone else’s. And Likotsi wasn’t Fab’s girlfriend, to trust with the heavy secrets of the heart. But this was something. Even if it wasn’t what she wanted to know, which was everything, it was clear that Fab hadn’t ghosted. Not really. She’d been overwhelmed, jettisoning objects that she couldn’t deal with at the time.
It still hurt Likotsi that she’d been in the reject pile, but at least there was a reason—one better than the awful fear Likotsi had let fester in her heart.
She simply didn’t care.
Likotsi wiggled her arm, the movement getting Fab’s attention. “I might be able to help. I know people. All kinds of people who deal with all kinds of things.”
Fab glanced at her, a bittersweet smile on her face.
“Thanks for offering. I don’t think you can help with this. And I’m just being a punk. My family has had it much harder than me. I’ll get back on track eventually.”
They sat in silence, and after a while Likotsi heard light snores coming from beside her. Fab was asleep, face slack and lips slightly parted. Likotsi settled closer to her, wondering what they would do when she awakened, and what would happen if, this time around, she was a part of Fab’s eventually.
Chapter Six
The Previous Spring
Fab spent the train ride to Midtown trying not to think of what a bad idea a second date with Likotsi was. She’d woken up tangled in her sheets and Likotsi’s limbs, her unwrapped hair a mess and her desire still unsatiated. And then Likotsi had pulled on her somehow still unwrinkled suit, kissed Fab hard on the mouth, and asked if they could see each other one more time.
“Aren’t you leaving?” Fab had asked.
“Soon. But not yet.”
“The
n tonight. Definitely tonight.” Her day would be spent going to work, then heading to Tati Lise’s for a quick supportive dinner, but afterward—she’d catch up on restocking her most popular jewelry designs when this thing with Likotsi was over.
“I have to provide support at a boring party tonight,” Likotsi had said. “I should be done around twenty—eight-thirty. Do you want to come have dinner at the Plaza?”
Fab had squinted sleepily up at Likotsi. “Is that a restaurant?”
“No, the hotel,” Likotsi had said, neatly knotting her tie without even looking in a mirror.
Fab had glanced up at Likotsi with a furrowed brow. “The Plaza. Hotel?”
“No, the Plaza Youth Hostel,” Likotsi had joked, easily catching the bra Fab grabbed and tossed at her in retaliation.
“I’m in a suite, so you don’t—we don’t—” Likotsi’s face had gone all soft and shy, and she’d crushed the bra cups in her hand, which Fab found somehow endearing given the night they’d spent together. “There’s not just going to be me, you, and a bed. We can go out for dinner if you’d like, but the room service is excellent and the view is divine.”
Fab had shaken her head. That Likotsi didn’t understand how wild it was asking someone to come to a suite at the damn Plaza said a lot. “Me, you, and a bed sounds like a good time. Dinner would be good, too.”
She’d risen from her own bed, already half an hour behind her usual morning prework schedule, but with time to spare. Then Likotsi had kissed her goodbye, a kiss that had gone on and on, deeper and hotter and wetter and lower, eventually resulting in Fab’s first late warning from her boss.
Now, after a day of constantly losing her place in her spreadsheets because she’d kept thinking back to her date with Likotsi and a night trying to convince her aunt that everything would be all right and that by Friday they’d be having a celebration dinner instead of one shrouded by worry, she found herself at the Plaza Hotel. She was in an elevator with doors made of gold-plated iron bars and staffed with an actual operator, who awkwardly accompanied her on the ride up to the penthouse.
She looked at herself in the reflective surface of the door—shining clean and spotless—and for the first time in a long time felt underdressed. She wore a high-waisted blue and orange flared skirt, a matching orange sleeveless sweetheart top, and black heels. But the elevator was freaking ornate, golden luxury.
The elevator operator, clad in an ill-fitting mauve uniform, glanced at her for the twentieth time during the interminable ride and she finally turned and caught them in the act. “Why are you looking at me like my name is Vivian Ward and you’re wondering whether to tell the hotel manager about me?”
The operator’s cheeks went pink. “No! I, uh, follow you on InstaPhoto.”
“Oh!” Fab lowered her defenses. “Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.”
“Well . . .” The elevator operator looked around. “I hear the occupants of this suite always have ladies in and out when they visit Manhattan. Not this week, and I’ve never heard anything bad, but be careful.”
Fab didn’t love that information, but she gave the operator her best smile. She knew what a risk it was for someone in service to rat out a rich and important client.
“Good lookin’ out.” She winked. “I’ll post a pic especially for you tomorrow.”
The operator’s cheeks pinkened even more, and then the elevator door opened.
“Here we are,” they said.
Fab considered riding back down, but then she reminded herself that none of this mattered. This was a bonus date, not one she was building a future on. Who cared if Likotsi was a player?
Um, I kind of do, her heart piped up.
“Thanks,” she said. “And good night.”
“Have a good night, ma’am,” the operator said.
The elevator left her directly in front of the suite’s clean white door, and she raised her hand to knock when the door opened swiftly, leaving her knuckles inches from the nose of an older white man with gray hair and a stern expression on his face. He was definitely cat daddy material, but Fab wasn’t interested.
“I think I have the wrong room?” Fab peeked over his shoulder at the suite that looked like something out of a profile on, well, rich old men who looked like the one who had opened the door.
The man’s face softened a bit with reserved amusement. “No. Ms. Adelele is, ah, indisposed. I’m Horace, the suite’s butler.”
It was then that she noticed his suit was a more tailored version of the same dark gray worn by the elevator operator.
“A butler? For real?” She’d seen the lobby of the hotel before, with its columns and marble and gold, but only because she’d snuck in to take some selfie to post on InstaPhoto when she’d had a particularly good hair and makeup day and wanted to flex. She was by no means poor, but this was next level.
“This is a lot,” she said.
“Quite,” Horace replied understandingly.
“Thanks, Horace,” Likotsi’s voice called out from inside, then she stepped around the door. “You can leave for the night.”
“Do you need me to draw a bath or take any laundry for dry cleaning?” he asked, bowing slightly. Likotsi’s face screwed up in embarrassment, and she playfully nudged his shoulder so that he stood.
“No. Don’t forget, I’m not royalty. I’m just a regular woman.” She glanced at Fab. “One who is very lucky.”
“I concur,” Horace said, stepping into the room to let Fab enter before he stepped out. “Usually people are happy to use me to impress their dates, so I thought I’d offer.”
“I’m impressive enough on my own, man,” Likotsi said with a grin, using both her hands to present herself from head to toe.
Horace rolled his eyes in a way that showed they were friends, then headed to the elevator.
Likotsi closed the door, a sheepish grin on her face as she leaned back against the door. She was dressed in another impressively wrinkle-free white button-up shirt, with dark brown suspenders and tan slacks. Her sleeves were already rolled up. “Hi.”
Fab exhaled.
“Hi. Hello. I just need to point out that none of this”—Fab waved her hand around the luxurious suite—“is regular. There was a butler at the door. You have service staff.”
“I am service staff,” Likotsi said, raising a finger. “Horace was trying to make me look good because I told him I wanted to impress you. While the boss is away, the staff will play, and all that. There are perks to working for the ridiculously wealthy sometimes.”
Fab thought of what the elevator operator had told her.
“I’d say.” Fab stared at an antique vase filled with budding roses. Any one object in the room cost at least as much as her parents made in a month, maybe even a year. Displays of wealth were one of those things that became background noise in Manhattan, but somehow she’d been unable to imagine that a room could look like this. And while she certainly appreciated going for an aesthetic, hard, she couldn’t imagine why all this stuff was necessary, except to show that you had a lot of money and didn’t know what to do with it.
“We can go somewhere else if you want,” Likotsi said, seemingly picking up on her discomfort. “I didn’t want to, well, okay, yes, I did want to show off. I can’t really afford anything worthy of you, but I had this suite to myself and . . .”
Fab felt a tightness in her chest, a slow squeeze as realization set in. Likotsi saw ridiculous wealth like this and thought it was what Fab deserved. Fab, who was used to dates with men who sent her invoices for her movie ticket the morning after.
“No. It’s just . . . this is real rich people shit. It’s a little overwhelming.” She looked around. “I’m scared to break something. I could probably get some great InstaPhoto shots in here, though.”
“I’d be happy to be your photographer,” Likotsi said. “I wouldn’t have to do much work.”
Likotsi plucked at a suspender arm once, twice, three times, and Fab felt a truth resonate in he
r along with it: Likotsi was nervous. Now that Fab paid attention, she could see how Likotsi’s smile was just a bit strained, and how her movements were just a bit stiff. She was letting her own freaked-out-ness spread to Likotsi, who had done nothing worse than think her worthy of precious items.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Fab said softly. “But just so you know, I’m here for you, not the Plaza Hotel, beautiful as it is. I want to hang with you, with or without perks.”
Likotsi grinned, that wide, self-assured smile that had drawn Fab to her in the first place.
“Well, my being in Manhattan right now is a perk that I am most grateful for,” Likotsi said as she pushed off the door to lead Fab through the living room area.
“What will you do if you ever get a less glamorous job?” Fab asked.
Likotsi stood at a set of French doors and paused to look at Fab curiously. “I’ve never thought of that. Historically, one doesn’t leave this job for another. You retire at age forty, work until you die, or something in between.”
Likotsi’s flippant tone didn’t distract from what she was saying. Finding a new job was nowhere on her radar. Even if this chemistry between them led to more, more would only hit a dead end, eventually.
There is no more. There’s just tonight.
Likotsi pulled open the doors and stepped out onto the terrace. Central Park spread out before them below, the shadows of trees swaying in the newly fallen dark and the streetlamps reflecting off the lake. The sound of traffic barely reached them at this height, but the sounds of the night birds above the park did.
“Wow.” Fab stepped up the railing around the terrace, absently noting a table with a lit candle and plates covered with silver platters as she passed it. “I’ve walked through this park so many times, but I’ve never seen it like this.”
From this height you could see the beauty of the park’s design, see it for what it truly was—a jewel ringed by the wonder of metal and concrete reaching for the sky.