Get to You

by Albany Walker

  With our plans made, I call for a van cab pick up, so he'll have plenty of room for his belongings.

  They arrive fifteen minutes later, and we head to the Element where Brian was staying. Brian runs in quickly to collect his stuff. Beau and I wait in the cab while he checks out.

  The short drive uptown takes longer than it would have to walk with the Saturday traffic, but soon we pull up to Rita's building.

  The door is opened immediately as we walk up, a middle-aged man holding it for us. We walk into the lobby and are greeted by a pretty, young woman behind the desk. Her eyes skim over me and land on Beau. She gasps but recovers quickly. It’s then I realize he's not wearing his hat, so she's probably recognized him. Is that how it will be from now on, I wonder.

  "May I help you sir?" She addresses only him.

  I answer, "I am having a friend stay in my unit indefinitely, he needs to be added to the list of guests, please."

  "Certainly, will you require a change in locks, sir?" Her eyes on Beau as she addresses him while replying to my request.

  I look over at Brian, he finds the interaction not the least bit surprising, so I casually ask, “Brian you want to change the locks?”

  I give him a wide-eyed look, silently questioning if this is how it always is with Beau. His brows raise and his eyes widen as he nods to me, while declining the request to change the locks.

  The young lady’s cheeks pink up behind the desk the tiniest bit when Beau places his arm around my waist. I feel my own face heat, and I am curious if my face looks the same.

  She looks down, a little dazed, but back to business, "Unit number and picture ID for your guest please." The slightest bit of insecurity seeps in before I have the chance to push it away. I wonder if she is thinking about why Beau is with someone like me.

  I brush the front of my shirt down, fidgeting,"Fifty-three hundred. Thank you." I motion for Brian to step forward.

  She frowns down at the keyboard, "I'm sorry miss we don't have a unit fifty-three." She sounds bewildered. I think Beau and Brian's presence has overwhelmed her.

  "It's fifty-three hundred." I repeat a little frustrated as her pattern of ignoring me has left me feeling foolish. “Would it be okay if we go up now and handle this a bit later,” I quickly make up an excuse to hopefully speak to someone a bit more professional, “I wanted to ask the manager about the gym and rec membership, can I speak with them?”

  She nods a reply, and I quickly thank her, leading Beau and Brian to the elevators. I give a small sympathetic wave to the attractive woman, once Beau and Brian have walked ahead.

  She mouths a sorry while fanning herself and giving me a thumbs up. I don’t know how to respond to this, so I nod and stride to the elevator.

  I hand the keys to Brian. The elevator stops close to the top floor and the doors open to a small lobby and large white double door. The same door greeted me when I first ran to New York. I find myself a bit emotional in seeing them again, particularly in the current context. A sense of loss adds to this feeling, knowing Rita won’t be behind it this time. I urge Brian to unlock the door, and he whistles when he steps inside the luxury apartment.

  “This was Rita’s home. I couldn’t bare to sell it to anyone after her death. She left it to me when she passed.” I look around the fully furnished rooms that seem so empty and cold now. The floor to ceiling windows offer a beautiful view of the city. I remember staring out of them my first few weeks here, uncertain of how I got from my life in Alabama to here. I didn’t want to leave, I knew that without question. When I eventually moved out to live in my studio, things were still so wonderful, it was right before Rita was diagnosed with cancer. She wanted me to have something that was my own. I returned to live with her on and off throughout her diagnosis and treatment. I cared for her here and tried to return all the care she gave me, but I also witnessed her dying and eventually her death in this place.

  Beau and Brian take in the large room without speaking. I’m curious about what they think of the place. Rita always liked the security of the twenty-four-hour doorman. I always thought it was way too big for just one or two people.

  "There are three bedrooms each, with en suites. Take your pick, I've only stayed here a handful of times since Rita passed.” I rock on my feet, feeling anxious being here, “You'll need groceries and bathroom necessities, but other than that, you should be set.” I drop my purse on the entry table and walk toward the living room. I run my hand over the leather sofa as I remember lounging here with a book or watching movies with Rita. I look up to Brian, “They offer laundry and maid service. I never signed up for it, but you can if you'd like." My voice wobbles, I clear my throat and shrug my shoulders, "You want a tour?"

  Both men are still quiet.

  Finally, Brian speaks, “Are you sure you don’t mine me staying here Samantha? I can find another place no problem." He runs his hand over his bald head.

  I turn and give him a gentle smile, “I’m positive. Rita would want you here. I just haven’t been here in a while. Brings back memories, that’s all.” Beau walks over and runs his hand over my back slowly.

  I feel uncomfortable with all the emotions bubbling up. I want to cling to him.

  Instead, I turn to Brain, “I think I'll go see if I can I find the manager. May I have your ID so they can make a copy?"

  Beau must realize I need a few minutes to myself and says, "Brian, give her your licenses, and let's look around,."

  After collecting it, I walk back out to the elevator. When I reach the front desk, the same woman from before is standing next to a slightly older woman in a black pant suit, both of their heads turn in my direction when the doors open.

  I walk over to the desk and inquire, "Are you the manager?"

  "No, I'm sorry—Ms. West, is it?” She rounds the desk and reaches out a hand, giving me a firm handshake. “He’s not in on Saturdays. I’m Gloria. I'd be happy to assist you and your guests in anyway." She looks over my shoulder, like Beau will materialize any moment. The younger women must have told her about him being here.

  "Here is my guest’s license, he will be staying here for some time. He may add laundry or maid service, but I'm not sure yet. I would also like to leave a message for the manager to call me when he returns." I leave my work and cell numbers on a small white paper, and the older of the two woman promises he'll receive it promptly on Monday morning. I do it partially to keep up my ruse, but I also find myself wanting to talk about the lack of professionalism of these two employees. Beau can’t be the only person of note to walk into their lobby.

  The elevators ding open just as I'm finishing up.

  I hear both women gasp and the younger whispers, "See, it really is him." I know from her quick comment, who's behind me without looking. I flush, seeing her awed expression, and it makes me jealous that this pretty girl is so smitten with him. The older woman wastes no time rounding the desk, swaying over to Beau. He has barely stepped off the elevator when she moves right in front of him, blocking his way.

  "Mr. Huntington, we are so happy to have you with us. I can assure you, your time here will be held in discreet confidence,” she puffs out her chest a bit. “I will personally see to anything needed during your stay." She smiles up at him and wraps her fingers over his hand in a forced handshake.

  Beau looks at me. I can see the question in his eyes.

  "I'm staying here?" He asks like it's news to him.

  I roll my eyes, "I gave them Brian’s ID.” I’m a little annoyed at their insistence. “They don’t seem to have noticed the difference between you and Brian.” Both women turn to me, giving me their undivided attention for the first time since I entered the building.

  Gloria turns to Beau, “I can assure you”—she is cut off as Beau ignores her and comes over to me, kissing me quickly on the temple.

  He wraps an arm around my back then says, "My sweet Sammy." He then whispers, "You're being sassy." He chuckles.

  "You ready?" I ask.

&nb
sp; "I'll need to return this to Brian," Beau takes the card from my hand, and turns his green eyes to the woman still standing near the elevator. He rumbles in a deep voice that comes very close to the voice I've had the pleasure of hearing when he's aroused. He says, "Would you mind doing me a favor?" She nods and her eyes glaze a bit, making me want to stomp on his toes. The bastard is using his charm,"Would you take this up to my friend? I'd really appreciate it." He makes it sounds like he'd be willing to offer her anything in return for the simple request.

  I want to kick him.

  "Jackass," I mutter under my breath but loud enough for him to hear. He's still got an arm wrapped around me, with his eyes still on Gloria, his smile lifts at one corner, just the tiniest bit.

  16

  I'm rushing through City Chic looking for a robe. I tried to convince Beau to go grab a coffee and even tried to send him into a big-name bookstore so he wouldn't follow me in the store. Nothing worked, he insisted. Now, I am dashing through the lingerie department of my favorite store with a movie star trailing behind me.

  I've seen at least three new bras that I'd already have if he wasn't with me.

  I finally settle on two robes. One is short, silky and purple, the other is long fuzzy gray cashmere. He looks at both choices and smiles. I look back once more at the blush pink strappy bra that has thin double straps over the shoulder with a Demi cup and two more thin straps crossing over the top of the breast and dips to the low plunging center. It almost looks like jewelry. I need it. I've convinced myself that if I don't get it now, it'll be gone. I'll never see it again.

  I look over at him, "I just have to check." I rush to the rack hoping to find one in my size. I'm in luck, but now the dark gray balconette with the white satin piping has caught my eye. I need that one too.

  Abandoning Beau, I look at every rack making sure I'm not missing anything. I hastily grab a few cheeky panties that will match. I look over and see Beau standing, staring at me while holding my two robes. My own arms are full with a least six new bras. I don't even remember handing over the robes to him.

  "I looked in your closet, you know? Admitting you have a problem is the first step." His smile is huge. I almost put them all back. I do have a problem, but there are much worse problems than having a slight underwear addiction. There's really not much better than new bras and panties, and they make me feel good.

  I squint my eyes while holding my loot protectively, "Yes, I like pretty lingerie. But it wasn't always easy finding beautiful bras and panties that fit me, and it could be worse." I keep my head high as I pass him, snatching the robs from his hands as I walk up to the counter.

  The attendant is a six-foot-two bombshell. Moxy is the name she goes by. She greets me with vigor just like always as I place my haul on the counter. She gives me a sly smile, then looks over my shoulder to Beau.

  She wiggles her perfectly sculpted brows, "Gurl, you finally bring your man in here. I knew all that bull about not having one was a joke. A beauty like you needs a few.” She nods, “Well at least one that looks like that.” She leans back and gives an over the top snap, “Dae-yum—he is fine”— she sighs and looks back to me, head tilting to the side, “Do you share, and more importantly will he bottom?"

  The cough I hear from Beau makes my lips turn up, "Oh Moxy he's more of a top.” I sigh dramatically, “And unfortunately, I don't share well, you understand?" I say with a Cheshire grin. I am tempted to tease Beau, let him sweat a bit, but I’m not sure how he will respond, with his past.

  "Yeah, I got a few I keep to myself too,” she nods knowingly. “You ever wanna trade you, let big Moxy know."

  I work hard to keep my face serious, "You know, I just might do that." I add thoughtfully.

  Beau's growl doesn't go unheard by either of us, and we both lose it, our carefree performance for him abandoned. I laugh so hard, I can't breath. Moxy is the first to compose herself, stopping her loud guffaw to blow Beau a kiss from her expertly painted lips.

  Beau places his hand on the back of my neck, massaging lightly as he bends down.

  He speaks close to my ear, but not at all quietly, "Top is right sweets, and I don’t share either.” He gives Moxy a sultry wink, before kissing my temple. Both me and Moxy are puddles on the floor.

  She looks right at me as Beau saunters over to the front door and says, "He's a keeper.".

  "Yeah," I say wistfully, hoping I’ll be able to hold on to him.

  The walk home is quiet. Beau carries my bags the whole way. He seems to get nervous when the crowd thickens, moving close to me. Our bodies brush with every step. No one notices the celebrity walking among them, as we weave our way through the throng of people.

  When we reach my building, I look up to where I expect the new camera to be and don't see any indication of a lens.

  My head tilts in confusion, "I know there's a camera, but I can't find it." Beau is close over my shoulder, so when he steps forward and lifts his arm to point, I feel his hard chest graze my back. I try to ignore the tingle that races up my spine and fail miserably.

  Beau's nose nudges my hair away from my cheek as he gets unnecessarily close and says, "It’s right over there, you see it?" I swallow thickly and whimper while stepping forward.

  Trying to make light of my ridiculous hormonal response to him, I croak, "Yup, now I see it. Don't know how I missed it really."

  I hastily open the door to put more distance between us. I blow out a breath, wondering how I've found myself in such a crazy situation. A possible stalker and a movie star as my—my what, my friend, my—oh God, let’s stop that train of thought right now.

  A small giggle escapes me at the absurdity of my musings. He isn't my anything.

  "What's so funny?" he asks. I can hear the smile in his voice.

  "Just being silly," I dismiss.

  Now that we're back at my place an awkward tension fills me. What now?

  Beau solves my dilemma quickly by taking my bags and emptying them on the bed, "You gonna show me what you got?" A naughty grin spreads across his handsome face. I scoff and toss my purse onto the table by my door.

  "I don't want to subject you to my problem. I won't be anyone's gateway," I smirk and walk to the kitchen to fix something for dinner. Thankfully, I ordered enough yesterday to throw something together.

  "Hey, now. What if I could promise to never," his face is a mask of pure innocence, "ever buy any for myself. I don't think I'd even look good in that shade of pink." He drolls. I shake my head at his antics. I can't even imagine him in the bra and matching panties. My mind wanders to what he'd look like without anything but that sexy grin he's sporting.

  My humor evaporates quickly, a new tension fills the air. I clear my throat and turn back to the fridge to hide my red cheeks.

  "Are you hungry?" I ask with my head almost in the fridge. Internally, I scold myself for being so easily distracted.

  "I could eat," comes Beau’s response, and the deep timber of his voice isn't lost on me, making it clear he's hungry for more than food.

  Keeping my back to him I ask, "How's spaghetti sound?" I need to figure out what's happening between us. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by his attention. I don’t know what to do with it or what I will do without it.

  Thoughts of his departure start to run through my mind.

  When will he comes to his senses and return to his previous life? I can't believe he'd just walk away from the fame and fortune. It won't take him long to realize that what he thought of as a burden is something he longs for again. What will I do when he leaves? I can feel myself falling for him. One minute I tell myself to take anything he's willing to give me, the next I want distance from the potential heartbreak. The closer he seems to get, the more confused I become.

  "Sammy?" Beau asks from right behind me. I straighten, wondering how long I've been staring into the fridge.

  I put a smile on my face and turn, "Sorry, lost in thought." I wash up and pull the ingredients I'll need. It serves as a nice di
straction.

  "What can I help with?" Beau asks, looking at the pile of vegetables I have on the counter. He seems genuinely interested, so I set him to grating carrots while I handle the garlic and onion. "I thought we were having spaghetti?" He asks, suspicious of the carrots.

  "Bolognese, actually," He still looks a little hesitant, "it's good I promise." I turn to grab some basil.

  Normally, I'd already be in my comfy clothes by now, and I’m itching to get out of my jeans and top. I get the sauce started and excuse myself to grab some yoga pants and a tee shirt from my dresser. There's no way I'm going into that bathroom unprepared again.

  Noticing the items still on top of my bed, I grab everything to remove the tags and start a load of laundry. When I return a few minutes later Beau looks up and his eyes light when they travel from the tips of my purple toes up to my eyes.

  "I love those pants," he sighs. "But I really love that you can look so sexy and comfortable at the same time."

  He said the word love twice in about ten seconds. Do guys usually throw that word around? I like hearing it, even if it was only pertaining to my pants.

  "Thanks, I guess," I utter and stare at him before remembering I need to finish the sauce and make a small batch of noodles. I quickly throw together a dough while Beau diligently stirs the sauce.

  I'm letting the pasta dough rest for a few moments, when Beau asks, "Where'd you learn to cook?"

  The water is almost at a boil, so I throw in a few heavy pinches of salt, "My momma mostly. She liked cooking. I've picked up a few new things over the years, but she's who taught me to love it." As I answer him, I can't help thinking of all the times my momma and I spent in her kitchen. After Darryl moved in, I didn't spend as much time with her. I was getting older and used my friends as an excuse but really I just hated sharing her.

  I roll out small disks of pasta as thin as possible and grab my pizza roller to cut them into strips. The water is at a full boil, so I drop in the pile and use a large wooden fork to make sure they won't stick. In only a few minutes, the fresh pasta is beaching to the top of the water. It's almost ready. As I drain the water off, I add a little dried herbs and oil.