Holiday Spice & Everything Nice

by Conn, Claudy

  I nod, eagerly, as I take out my credit card to pay for my dinner.

  “You are not paying for your meal,” he says while laughing.

  “Yes, I am. Is that a problem?” I ask, pursing my lips.

  “Yes, it is. I don’t do Dutch, sorry. I’ve got this.” He waves his hand, motioning me towards the bathroom while shaking his head. “You go to the restroom, and I’ll take care of the bill. Meet me out front. Sound like a plan?”

  Reluctantly, I agree.

  He pulls to the front of the hotel in his black Mercedes coupe, quickly stepping out to open the door for me, grinning from ear to ear. “Hop in. I’m taking you dancing.”

  “Oh, I love chivalry. It’s been a long time since a handsome man has opened a car door for me,” I flirtatiously remark. “So, where are we going?”

  Pulling the seatbelt out so I can fasten it, he holds up one finger. “Number One Broadway. You’ll love it, trust me.”

  The club is packed, and we are ushered to a table for two. The music is playing everything from classic R&B to present day music. I’m so glad he suggested it. It’s been forever since I’ve been clubbing. I feel like I’m back in my college days, and I haven’t felt this high in forever.

  He orders drinks and leads me out to the dance floor where he shows me what an incredible dancer he is. I find my inhibitions falling by the wayside as we dance, and I’m enjoying the company of Leon Hallas immensely. I laugh to myself that getting laid is definitely moving up my list of to-dos.

  Sweating profusely, when we get back to the table he leans across, brushing my hair behind my ears, and hands me a napkin to wipe my face. “Having fun?”

  “Oh yes, this is awesome. Great idea!”

  “Pleasure’s all mine.”

  After way too many drinks, that dizzy, over-indulged feeling sets in, and I lean into him.

  “Ready to go back to the hotel?” he asks.

  I nod, and before I know it, we’re in the car on the way back to the hotel.

  “Are you staying in Los Gatos?” I ask.

  “I’m actually staying with Phillip in Los Altos. It’s about twenty minutes from the

  hotel.”

  “I could get a cab. No need to take me all the way back to the hotel and then have to drive.”

  He shakes his head, looking at me confidently. “I’ve got this. No problem.”

  Once back at the hotel, he walks me up to my room. Not wanting him to leave, I ask him to come in for a nightcap. Actually, coffee is more what I need right now.

  “I’m down with it. I have an early morning meeting, but what the hell? I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

  I would ask myself why a guy this hot saying he hasn’t had this much fun in a long time seems like a line of crap, but I’m having fun, so why not?

  We have a few more drinks, and the room starts spinning. I’m not a big drinker, and I’ve had way over my normal limit, so I tell him I need to lie down, thinking he would just leave. He lies next to me.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I exhale with a shaky feeling. “Kind of.” I put my hand over my forehead and breathe out. “I think I’ve had way too much to drink. I need to call it a night.”

  I suddenly feel the need to throw up and quickly dash into the bathroom. I shut the door, and he calls out to me, “Noel? You all right?”

  In between my hurls, I try to intelligibly answer. “Um, I’m fine. You can leave. I’ll be okay.”

  I hear his laugh. “I’m not leaving you sick and puking your guts up. I’ll just wait. Take your time.”

  I splash water on my face, run my fingers through my already messed up hair, and walk out into the room, trying my best sober shuffle.

  “I’m fine, see? You can leave.” I stagger, stumbling by the bed, and motion towards the door, totally ashamed and embarrassed that I’ve overindulged and gotten literally inebriated.

  He dips his head, shaking it, and points his finger. “Ummm … You’re not fine. Well, actually, you’re damn fine, but you’re not in a good way, if you know what I mean. I’m sorry I got you trashed. Wasn’t my intention, and you’re probably gonna be cursing me in the morning.”

  Defensively, I lean on the nightstand, jumbling my words. “I know that. Look, just go ahead on. You can leave me your number, and maybe we can hook up again while I’m here.”

  “Go ahead on? Is that one of those Southern terms you Texas folks use?” he asks in a half-mocking way. He moves to steady me. “At least lemme help you get into your night clothes or something. I feel like a bad influence on you.”

  I start gagging, and put my hand over my mouth to make it to the toilet just in time. Leon kneels down behind me, pulling my hair back as I empty whatever contents are left in my stomach.

  “Please, I’m okay,” I plead with him as I hear the echo of my voice within the confines of the porcelain toilet. I spit and turn my head to the side. “Argh, seriously, please Leon, just let me be alone. I’m okay.”

  He tenderly blots the back of my neck with a cool, wet washcloth while holding my hair back with his other hand. “Whatever, you’re not okay, and I’m not leaving you like this. Sorry, ain’t happening. I may not be from The South, but I am a gentleman. I’ll never leave a damsel in distress,” he jokes.

  I concede. “Fine, but could you just give me some privacy then? Stay, but go.” I wave my hand towards the door, never looking up.

  He chuckles as he gets up and closes the door behind him, leaving me to my misery. “Fine. I’ll stay, but I’ll go. I’m just gonna wait out here. Take your time.”

  When I’ve finished in the bathroom, I stumble out and find that he’s gone through my drawers, looking for something I can change into. Satisfied with what he’s found, he holds out my sleep shirt. “Here, put this on.”

  I take it from him, with half open eyes. “You can’t watch.”

  He nods and turns around. “I won’t. Just get changed so I can tuck you in and leave.”

  I strip out of my sweater and jeans, throw my bra on the bed, and quickly slip the t-shirt over my head. “You can turn around now. See? I’m ready for bed.”

  He’s got two Tylenol tablets and hands me an open bottle of water from the dresser. He instructs me, “Take these.”

  I sigh, rocking back and forth, slurring my words. “Geez, who died and appointed you my keeper?”

  He taps his fingers on the bureau. “Why do you have to be so sarcastic and confrontational? I’m only trying to help.”

  Regretting my remark, I think to myself, because sarcasm is the story of my life. I grab the glass of water and two tablets, swallow them, and hold my hands out. “There. Are you happy now? You can leave. Goodnight, Leon.” I wave my hand towards the door.

  He chuckles as he playfully messes with my hair. “Not just yet. In the bed you go, then I’ll be happy. I’m gonna leave you my card, and I’d like you to call me. You know, to let me know you survived. Plus, I’d kinda like to see you again.”

  “Fine. I’ll call you. Thanks for everything. I had a blast. Now, goodbye.”

  “I’ll take that as you’d like to see me again too, Noel. Good night, beautiful.”

  I hear the heavy door close and lock as I finally pass out.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, I sleep through the wakeup call. At nine-thirty, I open one eye, head throbbing, and look at the clock. “Holy crap!” I scream as I bolt out of bed. Not used to the residual effects of a true hangover, I stop dead in my tracks, woozy and lightheaded.

  I was supposed to be at my meeting at nine this morning, and I’m very, very late. I take a quick shower, and realize I have no time to dry my hair. Frantically, I rummage through my cosmetic bag, looking for a clip to hold my hair, and I finally dump the entire contents out onto the bed. No clips—damn! I look on the nightstand and grab a ballpoint pen, neatly sitting beside the little pad of paper. Wrapping my wet, long hair in a knot, I secure it with said pen and hope the Los Gatos logo isn’t vi
sible. Classy, Noel, very classy.

  Now, what to wear? Tapping my fingers on the dresser, I quickly pull out a pair of leggings and one of my signature, Anthropologie, long tunics. (It hides the bulges.) I pull on a pair of leather riding boots, and I feel like I can conquer the world. Wait, not quite yet. I walk to the mirror and strategically wrap an infinity scarf around my neck, then touch up my day-old makeup. Now, I need to call Tony.

  He answers on the first ring. “Where are you, sweet cheeks? We’re waiting on you.”

  I garble into the phone, hoping I sound at least somewhat intelligible. “Sorry, Tony, I overslept. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I dash out to my car, set the GPS to the address he’s given me, and it takes me to an architectural firm. Architectural firm? I thought I was here for wedding stuff. I dial Tony’s number to make sure the address is correct.

  “Yup. That’s the place. Just hurry.”

  Feeling like hammered shit, I pull into the parking garage, look at the marquee, and find the suite number. Stepping out of the elevator, I run down the long hall to suite four-fifty. Out of breath, and sweating from my mad dash, I let the receptionist know that I’m here for a meeting with Tony. She leads me into the boardroom, filled with men, and I realize I’m the only woman.

  “About damn time!” Holding his hands up in the air and waving profusely, Tony laughs as he points me to the chair they’ve saved for me.

  Embarrassed by my tardiness, I contritely open my briefcase, oblivious to the voice from a man that sits two chairs down. He stands. “Can I get you a coffee?”

  I turn to face this familiar voice. Crap! It’s Leon Hallas. What are the chances of this really happening? He grins, sheepishly, as I sink into my chair. His crystal-blue eyes are piercing as I nervously respond, “Yes please.” I watch as he walks over to the coffee pot. Last night, he was wearing an untucked button-down, so I couldn’t really see the magnificentness of his body. (Christ, is that really even a word? If not, I just made it up.) He’s wearing a black, V-neck, short-sleeved T-shirt, accentuating his broad, muscular shoulders, which I gotta admit are something to behold. Holy moly. From the shoulders, moving south into a V-shape is a perfect waist and when he turns around, I behold the most incredible ass I think I’ve ever seen. Even hungover, you can’t help but marvel at this Adonis. The sound of hot liquid pouring into a mug brings me back to reality, and he catches me staring—gawking actually.

  “Cream? Sugar?” he asks with a flirty, yet snide, look on his face.

  “Just black, thanks,” I say as I duck my head, hoping to hide my face, which is most likely red and blotchy.

  My eyes remain on him as he walks back to the table. Grinning, he hands me the cup and pats my shoulder, and then returns to his chair. His touch sends shivers through my body, and I find it very hard to concentrate on the matters at hand.

  This is a comedy of errors, and I wonder why Leon is here. I would love nothing more than to just crawl under the table, or better yet, leave and pretend I never walked into this.

  Tony clears his throat and takes charge of the meeting. “Guys, let’s fill Noel in on what we’re working on.” He looks to me contritely. “Noel, I guess you wonder why I’ve asked you here.”

  Unsuspectingly, I nod. “Well, as a matter of fact, yes. I assumed this was wedding stuff. Guess that’s what I get for assuming,” I joke, trying to make light of the situation.

  Leon coughs and laughs, scratching his head. “And you know what they say about the word assume.”

  I turn my head to the side and look down at him. “Ha, ha. Very funny.” I then mouth, “Screw you.”

  With a raised eyebrow, he props his head in his hand, looking down, and provocatively rubs his index finger over his lips, secretly bantering back at me. My face becomes flushed, and I feel a wonderfully pleasant tingling setting in between my legs. I cross them, hoping to stop the sensation, but that only intensifies it. Dear God, this man is gonna be the death of me. My level of concentration is officially non-existent.

  Knowing he is distracting me, Mr. Leon Hallas looks down at the tablet in front of him and begins scribbling. I see him trying to conceal a smile as I hear him clear his throat then tap his pencil on the large, dark wood conference table. It’s the only sound in the room, and I lower my head.

  Oblivious to the ongoing flirting and sexual tension between Leon and me, Tony spreads his arms proudly. “Noel, I told you it was a surprise and it is. I’m excited to have partnered with my trainer, Leon Hallas, in a new and exciting business venture.”

  He extends his hand towards Leon. “Leon owns a chain of health clubs, and after many long hours of brainstorming, we’ve decided to incorporate the rehabilitation of spinal cord injured children into his health clubs. I’m so damn excited about this, and I need you, Noel, to work with us to make this partnership a success.”

  He motions to the rest of the guys. “Noel Calabrese is the best PR woman in the business. We need her expertise to get this off the ground.”

  I lower my head, humbled by his introduction. He points to the person next to him, and from there, everyone introduces themselves. When it comes around to Leon, he nods pleasantly, then grins. “Noel, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Better late than never.”

  Humiliated by his remark, I bite my lip, and wave to everyone in the room. “Nice to meet you all. Sorry I was late. I overslept.”

  My eyes turn to Leon with contempt, and he simply winks. Damn him!

  The architects present their renderings of the newest facility, which will be built in San Jose. The concept, as I’m seeing it, is incredible. Tony is adamant that this facility will be cutting edge and free to all children affected by spinal cord injuries. In addition, a separate area within the same building will serve as a place for soldiers who are suffering from PTSD and lost limbs. It will be staffed with psychiatric health personnel. As I listen to their business plan, I’m in awe, and my mind is racing with all of the ideas I’m quickly scribbling onto my pad. Adrenaline rushing, my heart races as I try to wrap my head around being included in the planning of such an unbelievable endeavor. I’ve always wanted to be part of some charitable cause that could make a difference, and finally, I see a way that I can participate and do just that. I gaze at the renderings from the architects, and I close my eyes, picturing in my mind how amazing this is. I cannot wait to see the construction begin.

  Tony asks each of us for our input, and actually I feel inferior to the talent that is sitting around me.

  The excitement is infectious as we go around the table, adding our comments. When it’s time to add mine, I’m at a total loss for words. I look to Leon and Tony for guidance, and Tony interjects, “Noel, I’ve asked you here because I have every faith in you. We need to get the word out—light the fire—and you’re our go-to-gal.

  Tapping my fingers on the table, I stand, looking to Tony. “I’m speechless right now, Tony. I thought you’d asked me here to help with the wedding, so forgive me for looking dumbfounded, but I’m humbled and honored that you’ve included me in this incredible team. Wow. And I’m the only woman? Very cool.”

  My head is still throbbing from last night’s escapade as I try to finish my speech with dignity, reassuring this room full of men that I have what it takes to handle the Public Relations.

  Holding out my hands in a confident gesture, I smile, holding my head high. “Gentlemen, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this happen from a PR standpoint, I assure you all. I look forward to working with you, and I’m proud to be on Team Tony.”

  Clapping ensues as Leon stands. Everyone in the room stands, and we look to Tony. He fist pumps from his wheelchair. “I love what Noel just said. We are Team Tony! Noel, we need to register that hashtag for twitter. Can you handle that?”

  I nod with excitement, jotting down notes as my mind suddenly kicks into public relations mode.

  After a few hours of conceptual insight, we all disseminate into small groups. The whole day is spent spewing
ideas, and I’m exhilarated. I’ve got a purpose, and I’ve got a plan.

  Before we adjourn, Tony sends us off with a challenge. “Folks, we’ve talked about the place. You’ve seen the rendering, but more importantly, now we need a name for this place. A name so profound that it just screams our message. I’m upping the ante. Be thinking of names. Write them down, and each day, for the next week, I want your suggestions put into this box.” He points to a little box, in the middle of the table, which bears Tony’s logo and is covered in a black and white checkered flag. “Winner of the name for our facility will get ten grand. On the spot, ten grand, cash. That’s how much a good name means to us. So, who’s in?” Everyone raises their hand and Tony smiles. “I thought ten grand would grab your interest. So, tomorrow, let’s meet back up and present some more ideas. I need to get out of here. Got a pretty lady who has the rest of my day tied up with wedding details. Everyone, enjoy the rest of your day and evening, and I’ll see you all mañana at say, nine AM?”

  As I’m getting up, Leon stands behind my chair, bending down to whisper in my ear, “I had no idea.”

  I laugh. “I was in the dark as well. So you’ve known Tony for a while?”

  He nods proudly. “I’m his trainer. I‘ve been with him ever since his injury.”

  “I had no idea,” I say with a gasp.

  “You just stole my line. And I had no clue you were the uber PR person he’s been bragging on. Funny how people’s paths cross, isn’t it?”

  Leon then asks if I saw the card he left on my vanity in the bathroom. “I left you my number, by the way. Look, I’d love to spend some time with you, if you’ll be staying for a while, Noel.”

  It’s now that I realize I need to stay here. After all, I have nothing to go home for. I’ve felt more of the Christmas spirit in the few hours I’ve been in California then I have in years.

  “Actually, I blocked off my calendar because I thought this trip was about the wedding.” I giggle.

  Raising his eyebrows, he playfully bumps shoulders with me. “So, you wanna have dinner with me again tonight?” he asks.