How did this happen, mewaking up alongside Vincent in the morning? Brushing my teeth in his bathroom, wearing clothes he bought for me? I’m going in the oppositedirection I hoped we would gothe complete opposite direction! And it’s all happening at warp speed. I need things to slow down. This is all happening to easily and too soon.
When I come out of the bathroom Vincent is on the phone in the kitchen. He hangs up quickly and places the phone on the island.
“I ordered some groceries, they should be here in a few minutes. Want some coffee?”
I nod enthusiastically. I make my way over to his record player and choose a soul compilation while I wait for the coffee to percolate. The music instantly lifts me. I sit down on a stool to a hot cup of coffee a couple of songs later and watch Vincent as he reads the morning paper.
He glances up and catches me surveying him. He’s wearing his glasses, a day’s stubble spread across his face. He is tantalizing in his tight briefs and white t-shirt. His sex hair is impeccable. He just woke up, yet he looks like he could pose for a Calvin Klein add. It’s unfair; he is glorious at any time of the day.
“May I help you?” He mutters, before gently blowing on his coffee. He takes a tentative sip.
I sigh, despondent. He neatly folds his paper in half and puts it down, giving me his full attention.
“Vincent, as nice as this is, I can’t do this. I can’t stay here. We hardly know each other. I don’t want to hamper your social life.”
“Social life? Why would I need a social life when I have you?”
I laugh and he smiles, warmed by my amused response.
“Lenore, all I ever did before I met you was work. I’ve never had much of a social life. I like it that way. It’s just how I am. I’m a solitary person, and you can stay here, I want you to. I’d be worried about you if you moved into Kazumi’s studio,” his mouth forms a hard flat line.
“What is there to worry about? I can take care of myself. I always have,” anger slips into my voice.
“I don’t doubt it. But I think I can do a better job taking care of you,” he retorts without humor.
I gape at him. Is he for real?
“Vincent, thisit’s the opposite of what I wanted, of what I was expecting. I don’t want to trap you. We never even finished discussing…you know,” a pink blush spreads across my cheeks. I’m referring to our discussing the limits of our relationship. Though I have to admit, I’m not sure I want what I wanted a couple days ago. I may want more…but I won’t tell him that, not until I’ve seriously considered exactly what it is I want.
“It might be the opposite of what you wanted, but I have to say, Lenore, you seem much happier and at ease now than you did before your place burned down,” his voice is soft, his eyes gentle.
I freeze, completely floored by what he’s just said to me. I run my hand through my hair.
“I can’t believe you just said that.” I am not at ease! My life is in shambles and I have no control over anything anymore. And as for happy, how can I be happy? Is that how I seem?
“Besides, I think we know each other quite well, anyway,” he adds with a wink. He puts his coffee down, offering me an unobstructed view of his glorious body when he stands and leans against the counter, my eyes go straight to his white briefs. He’s alluring, beguiling without even trying. He slides his hand down to rub his bulge provocatively and my lips part as I inhale sharply. Fuck. Did he just do that? What a great distraction technique he’s employing.
Our conversation is forgotten as I crawl up onto the island towards him. My satin nighty doesn’t conceal my excitement; my nipples tighten as I imagine what I want to do to him. I reach out for him and he moves magnetically towards me. His finger traces my shoulder, and he drops the strap of my nighty down, almost fully exposing my left breast.
There’s a loud knock at the door, startling us both. We both exhale and sag with disappointment simultaneously. Vincent walks over and opens the door. I sit on the island, legs crossed, glaring at the delivery boy as he enters and begins setting down our grocery bags. He pauses, his eyes wide, mouth open. I don’t bother moving, I want to finish what Vincent and I started.
“Just put it all on the counter please. Quickly.” Vincent takes a bag from the gaping boy and glowers at me. “Could you please go put something on, Lenore?”
I pout and climb off the island, sulking. Vincent walks over to my purse and reaches into it and grabs my phone. He turns it on and it instantly begins vibrating. He hands it over to me. There’s a voice message from Bennet! Vincent shows me how to listen to it, I walk away towards the bed and Vincent shows the delivery boy out.
“Well, what did he say?” He shuts the door and comes straight to me. I suspect he already knows. He probably received the same message.
“He hasn’t opened it, but my safe is okay. It didn’t burn! I can pick it up.”
He encases me in his arms just as an awful vacant feeling grabs hold of me. I’m painfully reminded of my loss. Why is it that it keeps slipping out of my thoughts?
“I need to call Maggie,” I murmur against his neck. He smells so good.
“Sure, I’ll start on breakfast, my grandmother will be here shortly.”
Oh, shit! I forgot about that.
“What does she have planned, Vincent? Please tell me, if you know.”
He shrugs, “No idea. Crepes good?”
“Yes, please.”
He walks back to the kitchen and I dial Maggie.
“Hi, Maggie. Have you spoken with the insurance company?”
“Those incompetent assholes? No. Not really. They’re not listening to anything I have to say. They want to send out their own investigators. See that you weren’t the one who set the place on fire. You should have heard their accusatory tone, Lenore. Honestly. The gull. It will be a long process, just be patient.”
“What?” I’m panic-stricken.
“I have the feeling we are going to have a fight on our hands, but don’t worry, Lenore, anything you need, just let me know. Where are you staying anyway? With Kazumi?”
“Um…” I consider telling her the truth, but decide against it. “Yeah…I am. Listen, I have to go. Please, let me know what I can do. I don’t want to put this all in your hands, if there’s something, anything, please let me know.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort those assholes out.”
I hang up, feeling desolate. I decide not to mention my insurance troubles to Vincent. I don’t want him to take it into his own hands. He’s already too involved as it is. I want to get this day over with. I want to get my safe back, and figure out what the hell I’m going to do from this point forward. It’s a comfort knowing my safe has survived and at the very least, I have some money of my own!
Getting dressed is kind of fun, I have to admit. I get to further explore the arsenal of clothing Vincent had purchased for me. I find some curve hugging, high waist jeans. They’re dark blue; I cuff them up to my ankle for a 1950’s look. I find a pale blue, silk button-up blouse with a cute Peter Pan collar. I dig through the closet for shoes and find some black oxfords, with a pointed toe. They’re leather, embossed crocodile skin and surprisingly comfortable.
I take from the closet an adorable fit-and-flair ruffled double-breasted peacoat in a subtle shade of gray and look at myself in the mirror as I button it up. The buttons are large, heavy brass. Everything fits perfectly, and feels sumptuous against my skin. I look…amazing! Grown up, sophisticated and posh.
I must not get attached. I must not get attached. But everything in this closet truly does reflect my taste, and compliments my body perfectly. Still…I can’t let myself get attached. I’m only borrowing this beautiful wardrobe, I promise myself. This is temporary. All that can be returned will be returned once I sort myself out.
I twist me hair into a high bun, and glide a bit of red lipstick onto my lips and blot.
When I walk back to the kitchen I see that breakfast is ready, and my coffee
mug has been refilled. A girl could get used to this!
No, she can’t! I mentally chastise myself. My heart and mind are always at odds.
Three crepes dusted with powdered sugar, stuffed with lemon curd and diced strawberries, are awaiting me on a modern square plate.
“Vincent, this looks fantastic!” I gush as I eagerly dig in.
He smiles modestly, tucking his powder blue shirt into his dark grey slacks. How does he manage to stay in such good shape? I feel like all we do is eat.
I take another bite and moan in satisfaction. Vincent grins.
“If you eat like this, how do you stay in such good shape?” I muse.
“You’ll find out today, when my grandmother drops you back home.”
Home? This isn’t my home. I cock my head to one side.
“I don’t have a home, Vincent,” my mood takes a dive. He rolls his eyes.
“And what do you mean? What am I going to find out? I was hoping to get my safe once your grandmother drops me off,” I mutter, swallowing a sip of coffee. I place the mug down on the chunky wooden island. I run my finger around the rim of my mug nervously. Why am I allowing this to go on?
“Don’t worry. I’ll have Benny drop off your safe.”
I nod slowly, “Thank you. I hope he doesn’t mind.”
“Of course not, he’s coming out this way with Jordan anyway.” He almost manages to speak Jordan’s name without grimacing. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“So, where are you taking me then? Or better still, what are you going to show me?” I say suggestively, running my eyes up and down his body.
He shakes his head. “Surprise, can’t tell you,” he says between bites.
There is a playful look in his eyes. I’m intrigued; his mood is infectious.
“Are you taking me to a gym? Because if so, I have to tell you, I prefer working out outdoors.”
He laughs, “I sometimes use the gym here in the building, I prefer outdoor exercise too, but no. That’s not what we’re doing. We will be indoors. I‘ll tell you that much.”
“Hmm. Well then I hope you’re on top,” I say eagerly.
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
I raise my brows at him, my fork stopping midway to my mouth. Why is he making plans for me anyway? I just wanted to know how he stays in shape! Now I am being hauled away to yet another secret destination!
“It’s not what you think. It’s fun. Really good stress relief.”
“Uh, okay,” and now I’m annoyed.
He smiles nonchalantly; he’s up to something. I do need to relieve stress but I’d prefer he be my stress relief.
His home phone rings and he picks it up quickly. He listens without saying anything, depresses a button on the phone, and then hangs up.
“My grandmother is downstairs, come on. I’ll walk you.”
He hands me my purse and walks me out to the street in front of his building. A huge moving truck is holding up traffic, horns are blaring as people swerve around it.
“Where’s your grandmother?” I glance up and down the sidewalk, and then turn back to Vincent. He stares fixedly ahead.
“What?” I ask, confused by his jolted expression. He nods in the direction of the truck. Next to the driver of the moving truck is the little white-haired wonder that is Viola. She waves enthusiastically.
“Let’s get moving!” She shouts, in her raspy voice.
My mouth hangs open. What in the world? Why does she have a moving truck? Vincent tugs me along and opens the passenger door for me. He has to help me take the tremendous leap to get inside the cab.
“Have fun,” he smiles at me sarcastically. I’m terribly confused. He steps up and takes my chin and kisses me tenderly. I gape at him.
“Bring her back home soon, Nana. We have plans later.”
There’s that word again, home. He really needs to cut that shit out. I snap out of my daze as Vincent slams the door closed. I glare at Vincent through the window as he waves at us from the sidewalk. He loves when I’m irritated. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
We drive away and I watch Vincent in the rearview mirror until we make a turn and he disappears from sight. Viola clutches my hand.
“Good morning, Viola. Can you please explain what we’re doing today?” I ask frantically.
“We’re going on a little adventure. Bill here is going to help, isn’t that right Bill,” Viola says, turning to our silent driver.
The driver, Bill, turns and nods in agreement. Our driver is a short brawny looking man, with a slick comb over and dark eyes.
“And why do we need his help?”
“We’re going to visit some friends of mine, help them clean out there closets.”
An enormous grin spreads across my face. My heart rate speeds up. Yes! This is exactly the kind of thing I dream about! I grab Viola’s hand in mine.
“Oh, I’m game for this adventure!”
She pats my arms and off we go, heading in the direction of some of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Los Angeles.
By the time we arrive to the fourth house on our list, we are in Brentwood. The streets are clean, immaculate and spacious. The homes are grand, imposing and opulent, complimented by pristine lawns and landscaping. It’s intimidating, and the complete opposite of Vincent’s Los Angeles neighborhood.
If he grew up in such a wealthy family, why is it that he has chosen such a simple loft, in such a scummy part of L.A. to live in? The interior of the loft is gorgeous, the building as well. But the neighborhood is just a block or two away from skid row! It dawns on me as we make our way up an impressive driveway flanked by cherry blossom trees, that Vincent may be ashamed of his family’s wealth, but why exactly?
We step out of the truck. Bill practically has to carry Viola out. Her exuberance has waned. Thank goodness this is the last stop. I think Viola needs to put her feet up.
A butler appears at the doorway of the illustrious mansion and smiles with familiar warmth. Viola nods kindly in his direction and he shows us in.
“This is the home of one of my dearest friends. She’s in Paris right now, but said I am free to take whatever I like.”
The home is an English Tudor style mansion. The interior is spacious, vast, with impressive limestone flooring. Our footsteps echo as we enter. We make our way up the winding staircase and the butler opens up two French doors. I thought we’d be entering a bedroom, but it is an enormous closet. Seriously, it’s practically the size of my old apartment!
Why on earth would anyone need so much clothing? Rows and rows of shoes line the shelves, as well as furs, dresses, and evening gowns. This woman, whomever she is, has everything!
“My friend, she’s obsessed with clothing. She’s older than I am, if you can imagine. So be ready to find treasure, Lenore. This friend was a designer!”
I don’t know where to start! Can we just raid her closet like this? While she’s away? The other homes we visited, their closets and attics were impressive, but this woman’s closet is out of this world.
“How do we know what we can take?”
“You just choose what you like, the clothing here, she rarely uses. She has another closet, just like this, in her bedroom.”
WHAT! My eyes are bulging from their sockets.
We already have half the moving truck filled. An arsenal of clothing is hanging from the many rolling racks Viola had Bill find.
Bill appears at the door of the closet with two bare racks, waiting to be filled. I get moving. I think I already have a more impressive selection than I had at the shop.
I sift through the closet and begin pulling things aside. Dior. Chanel. And many more fabulous vintage designer clothes fill the racks.
This is our last stop, and I better make it worth it. This isn’t a good starting point, like Viola said. She clearly has no idea what my shop contained. This is so much more. Everything filling the truck is high-end, in immaculate condition, and oh so chic.
My mind is reeling with i
deas, I’ll tailor and mend what needs to be mended, take things apart, reconstruct, and add details to other more simple gowns. Then I can take pictures and post them online. I’ll have to learn how to do that, but I think it will at the very least help me get some dough in my pocket until I figure out what is to happen with the insurance company. I suspect there is so much damage to my building that it cannot be repaired.
I truly hope that I get enough money from the insurance to find a small shop somewhere else in Uptown. Though, I’m not sure what’s available right now. Or what I’ll be able to afford.
Focus, I say to myself in an effort to stop feeling so defeated. I find rolls of fabric stashed in a corner and literally do a happy dance.
“Viola, where am I putting all of this? I don’t think Vincent’s loft will be able to accommodate all of this.”
“Bill here is taking it to a storage locker. He’ll give you all of the information.”
I smile at Bill, and he smiles back, taking some of the hangers from my hands.
When we finally leave, I am exhausted! I can only imagine how Viola feels. I had no idea what was in store for me today, but I am forever in debt to Viola. This was incredibly kind of her. And her friends! They don’t even know me! They don’t know what they’ve done for me, for my ravaged little heart. I’m beyond happy.
I managed to fill the moving truck with more clothing than I’ve ever had in my shop at one time. I made sure to write down the names and addresses of the four homes we visited, I plan on writing them all a heartfelt thank you note, perhaps I’ll send them a small gift when I can. Though I don’t know what you give someone who can buy everything her heart desires.
I know I’ll have fun deciding what I am going to keep for myself, and what I will sell. I expected the women we visited to be stiff and unkind. But Viola is clearly well liked and respected.
Bill, the driver, was a great help. Hanging the clothing carefully on the rollaway racks, and loading them into the truck. He didn’t complain once. He’s very circumspect. I wonder how much Viola is paying him? I owe Vincent and his family so much.
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