by Curtis Bunn
“Thank you.”
“Sure. Anytime,” he said. Then he blew her mind.
“You’re Rhonda, right?” he said with confidence.
“Yes, I am. But how do you know that?”
“Wow, I thought I made an impression,” he said. “I guess not. We met Saturday at Suite Lounge. I’m Lorenzo. You’re Olivia’s friend, right?”
Rhonda lit up. “You remember me? I mean, I remember you.”
“Yes, I saw you on my walk at least once.”
“Did you know that was me the other night?”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Lorenzo asked.
Rhonda didn’t have an answer—not one she wanted to share with him, anyway.
“I didn’t want Olivia to know,” Lorenzo said.
Rhonda was puzzled. “Really? Why?”
“I know that’s your friend and I like her,” he began, “but I would rather get to know you.”
Rhonda thought she was dreaming.
“I saw when you all walked in Saturday night and I immediately felt like I should know you,” he added. “It was probably your walking cast that attracted me to you.”
He laughed and Rhonda joined in.
“It should come off next week,” she said. “But I’m still—I don’t know—puzzled. Did you know it was me just now?”
“I didn’t. Not until you turned around did I know it was you. It shocked me at first. But I put it all together kinda quickly. I couldn’t remember which house was yours until I saw you.”
Lorenzo continued to talk, but Rhonda didn’t hear him. Her mind was scrambled as she tried to make sense of the moment.
“So, what’s going on with you and Olivia? She likes you, you know?”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s okay? Why?”
“Because it’s more about if I like her than if she likes me. If I like her in the same way, then we have an issue. But. . .”
“But what?”
“I thought there might be a chance I could like her in that way—and then I met you.”
“You know I’m married, right? You seem to be very observant. So you couldn’t have missed this ring.”
“I saw it—nice ring, by the way. But does the ring prevent us from getting to know each other.”
“You’re a playa, huh? I’m no kid. And I’m not silly. I know what you mean by ‘getting to know each other.’ And you don’t mean the words you used.”
“I could tell right away that you’re not silly. But we can still get to know each other, no matter how you define it.”
Rhonda was flattered. Lorenzo’s body, conversation and self-assuredness were totally opposite her husband’s, and she found it all attractive. But she was conflicted about seeing Lorenzo again, even though she’d had all kinds of plans for the man in her head the previous week.
Coyly, she said, “I think we’d better keep it to ‘nice to have met you.’ That ‘getting to know you’ stuff sounds potentially dangerous.”
Lorenzo smiled, revealing a softer, warmer disposition. “I respect that,” he said. “Can I give you my card? I’m opening my first restaurant in three months. Right now, I’m training to become a bartender/mixologist. I don’t want to just mix cocktails. I want to be able to create cocktails. My restaurant will be known for drinks with fresh ingredients along with good food.”
“Where are you bartending? In fact, where do you live? You live in this subdivision?”
“Yes, way on the other side and—”
“Too close for comfort,” Rhonda said. She surprised herself.
“Or it could be lots of comfort close by,” Lorenzo fired back.
“See, you’re bad. I’m going in the house. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. But you should be my cocktail guinea pig. I’m experimenting with some different things. I work the bar at the Glenn Hotel Monday through Wednesday, starting at six. The bar downstairs.”
“I don’t think so, but I will reach out when your restaurant opens to support you. And I’ll be sure to bring my husband—and Olivia.”
“Everyone is welcome,” Lorenzo quipped. They smiled and then laughed, and he went on his way.
Rhonda went to her car and sat there. She was angry at Eric and had a man she was interested in make it clear he had interest in her. She knew she was most vulnerable when she was mad at her husband—their problems seemed bigger when another person entered the equation. The temptation to react out of anger was heightened. But she was proud of herself that she held it together.
But what was she going to tell Olivia? Would she tell Olivia? Rhonda once told a coworker that her boyfriend had asked for her phone number. Instead of being grateful that Rhonda was upfront with her, the woman blamed Rhonda, saying she was too friendly and that her friendliness could be taken as flirting. Their friendship ended over Rhonda’s honesty and her coworker’s response. Of course, the woman broke up with the man less than two months later—because, predictably, she’d caught him cheating.
That history made her refrain from sharing her encounter with Lorenzo. She did not want to risk the friendship. But she was uneasy about her decision. What if Lorenzo told Olivia?
Rhonda fastened her seatbelt, started her car and backed out of the garage and driveway intent on catching Lorenzo. And she did. He had cleared the cul-de-sac and was walking up the street at a brisk pace. When she got to him, he glanced over, noticed it was Rhonda and pulled out his earphones.
“I’m not a hitchhiker,” he said, smiling as he leaned into her car from the passenger window.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your walk, but I had to ask you something. Are you going to tell Olivia that we met?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I’d rather not tell her. It’s a long story, but basically she hasn’t had the best luck with men and I don’t want her to feel like I’m coming between something she might want.”
“Aren’t you noble?”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I hadn’t planned on it; hadn’t even thought about it. But I won’t. I guess we’ll have to act like we didn’t have all this conversation if the three of us are together.”
“Or I’ll never see you again.”
“Could be.”
Lorenzo smiled and walked on. Rhonda drove off, but her mind and heart were in a tug-of-war.
CHAPTER SIX
SURPRISE, SURPRISE, SURPRISE
STEPHANIE
Each morning after they began sharing sexual innuendo, Charles sent Stephanie a text message when she knew her husband had gone to work. It was always something kind or thoughtful, like, I woke up thinking of you this morning and it made me smile. Have a great day.
He was careful not to go too far, but far enough to elicit a smile from Stephanie, an emotion. He did not want to push sex too much. Rather, he wanted to build a connection. He wanted her to gain feelings for him. It would make taking the next step not only easy, but also natural.
And it worked. With each missive, Stephanie smiled, and she began to feel like a schoolgirl being courted by the kid all the young ladies liked. She played it as if she were unmoved, though, replying with a smiley face or simply, Thank you. You, too.
I can’t let him think I’m easy, that this cheating thing is easy for me to do.
The reality was that it may not had been easy, but Stephanie had cheated on Willie before, about seven years into their marriage. It was so long ago that she almost forgot about it. She reasoned that one affair over twenty-four years of marriage was not bad, considering she had plenty of opportunities to do more.
The affair had happened in a similar situation to how she met Charles. She was at a conference in Chicago. Willie was just starting his accounting firm, and it was tax season, so he was buried in work. For Stephanie, it felt like he ignored her. She had been used to him working a nine-to-five and bei
ng around the house around the same time each evening. But in building the business, Willie spent countless hours working with contractors to build out the space and worked tirelessly to grow a strong clientele.
Stephanie did not quite understand at the time, and she’d left for the teachers’ conference following an argument about it with her husband. Willie was frustrated that she did not grasp the amount of work needed to launch his business. “Can’t believe you’re being this selfish,” he’d said in the argument. That set off Stephanie. . . because it was true.
“I’m doing this for us, Steph, and you’re bitching and nagging. I’m not out golfing or partying. This shit isn’t going to happen through osmosis. I have to make it happen. You need to understand that and stop driving me fucking crazy.”
When Willie cursed, and he did not curse a lot, it incensed Stephanie.
“Don’t curse at me,” she’d yelled back.
“Then get the hell out of my face,” Willie had responded.
This was the night before Stephanie was to board the plane to Chicago. That morning, they did not speak to each other before he left work, further angering and disappointing her.
She did not go to Chicago looking to mess around. It was the proverbial, “It just happened.” That’s what she’d told her sister, Toya, who was livid. “I’m so ashamed of you right now,” she’d said then. “This is not who we are.”
“We? What did you do? Don’t be so dramatic; this isn’t about you,” Stephanie had said.
“We’re cut from the same cloth,” Toya had said. “We were not raised like that.”
“Like what? Are you saying I should be perfect? I made a mistake, like a million other people. So don’t try to shame me.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Toya had shot back. “And that mistake you’re talking about? Bullshit. A mistake is dropping a glass and breaking it. Screwing around as a married woman for eleven months is a decision. A bad one that could ruin your life.”
Stephanie was able to break off that affair after almost a year without Willie finding out. She was lucky, though. Once, she’d walked into a restaurant in Sacramento to meet Andre, her sidepiece, and saw one of her husband’s close friends sitting at the bar, right next to Andre, who’d smiled when he saw her approaching. Before Willie’s friend could see her, she’d turned and left the restaurant.
After a few minutes, Andre had come out to see what was wrong. “That guy sitting next to you is my husband’s friend.”
They had picked Sacramento to meet because it was far enough away from Oakland that they believed they could be out in the open. From then on, their encounters were either at Andre’s place or a hotel.
Another time, Willie had come home early after saying he would visit his family in Vallejo. Stephanie had changed into a sexy dress and heels; she was going out to meet Andre and always dressed up for him. “Why you all dressed up?” he’d asked. She was flustered, but had collected herself.
“I was just trying this on,” she’d said. “I might wear it to the company Christmas party. You like?”
She’d had to sneak away to call Andre and cancel. It was then that she’d decided to end their once-a-month rendezvous. Tempted many times since then, she stayed the course, considering herself lucky that her reckless behavior did not cause her to devastate her husband at best, lose her marriage at worst.
Charles, however, presented a real challenge because not even her sister knew that her tendency was to stray. In high school she’d had a boyfriend, but also dated his friend—in secret. Same in college. Before settling down with Willie, Stephanie ran men like men ran women, one after the other. She did not sleep with all of them. But she slept with many. She enjoyed the freedom of being single and the company of several men from different backgrounds.
The problem was, it was more than that. It was something innate in her that prevented her from being wholly faithful. There were multiple excuses that passed as reasons in her mind:
If men can do it, why can’t women? I’m single and free to do what I want. I’m not hurting anyone. I like variety.
She did not tell Toya about her adventures. But she thought she could turn it off once she got married. She was wrong. A year after their wedding in Reno, Nevada, she’d found herself flirting with the manager of their apartment complex. She did not let it escalate into infidelity, but she knew then staying committed would be harder than she thought.
Charles presented a significant problem because it was more than about fulfilling her whim. She liked him. They had many things in common, especially working in education and a passion for teaching youths. That gave them something to discuss all the time. And because Charles was smart and genuine—and did not pressure her—she embraced him.
Their mostly e-mail and text messaging relationship took a surprising turn when Stephanie had gone to a regional meeting in San Francisco and looked up to see Charles as the featured speaker for the breakfast. She had told him about the event and that she would attend, but he did not share that he would be speaking there.
Stephanie had arrived a little late, held up by traffic clearing the Bay Bridge. But her coworkers had held a seat for her at their table in the middle of the ballroom. They’d chatted over coffee and breakfast. Charles had seen her, but did not come over. He’d wanted the surprise to take shape when he walked on the stage.
Finally, the host had introduced the speaker. When she’d said, “Charles Richardson. . .,” Stephanie was stunned. Outside noise was blocked out.
Charles had risen from his seat at the front of the ballroom and smoothly had walked to the podium. He’d made eye contact with Stephanie and smiled. She was more turned on than she was surprised.
He had started by saying, “Good morning. I’m happy to see you here—some more than others.”
The people had laughed. She and Charles had stared at each other. It was their private moment in a public setting. Over the course of his thirty-minute speech, Stephanie’s attention span had wavered. She’d alternated between hearing him and fading away to fantasies. Her attraction skyrocketed.
Charles had commanded the room. He was smart and humble and engaging and informative. The crowd had enjoyed him. She’d enjoyed seeing him.
When the breakfast was over, she’d lingered to have a moment with Charles. She’d waited until everyone had spoken to him. Then they’d embraced.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Simmons,” he’d said, knowing people were watching. “I remember you from the conference in Seattle.”
“Yes, good to see you, too,” she’d said. “I enjoyed your speech.”
When all the people were out of earshot, Stephanie had said, “I can’t believe you. Why didn’t you tell me you were speaking here?”
“You look good. Real good.”
“Focus, Charles.”
“If I had told you, we wouldn’t have this moment we’re having right now. And I wouldn’t have gotten to see the look on your face when I stepped to the mic.”
“I must have looked like I had seen a ghost—a quite handsome ghost.”
Charles had blushed. “Well, I’m headed back to L.A. in a few hours.”
“Really? That’s it?”
“It can be more. Much more.”
“I’m here at this conference all day.”
“My flight leaves at four. Why don’t you skip the conference lunch and have lunch with me?”
“My coworkers are here.”
“They won’t be in my room.”
Stephanie tried to resist. . . for about five seconds.
“What’s your room number?”
“It’s 1906. I have to meet with a few people, but let’s meet there at twelve forty-five. Deal?”
Stephanie didn’t answer, as if not answering was better than saying “yes.” Her smile had told Charles all he needed.
So she’d gone to a pair of sessions that seemed like torture. She had been completely distracted and could only think about getting to Charles’ r
oom. She’d dismissed thoughts of Willie; they would only make her feel guilty.
When the time came to head to his room, she’d told her coworkers, “I’m going to do some shopping instead of going to the lunch session. Willie’s birthday is coming up and I think I should take advantage of being in the city while I’m here.”
They’d bought it and off she’d gone. Before she could knock on Charles’ door, he’d opened it. She’d stepped back, startled.
“Oh, wow. Perfect timing,” he’d said. “Come on in. I’m going to get some ice.”
Stephanie had walked in and gone straight to the window, which offered a majestic view of the Bay Bridge. Looking out at it and the sailboats in the water had calmed her. So did the glass of chardonnay Charles had poured her.
“I don’t see any food,” she’d said.
“Did you really come here to eat?”
Stephanie had made up her mind and was not about to play coy. “I came here to work up an appetite.”
Charles had digested that with ease. He’d stood in front of her and extended his hands. She’d grabbed them and he’d pulled her away from the window and into his arms. He’d looked down on her with caring eyes, and she’d looked into them almost as if hypnotized.
He’d leaned in and kissed her deeply and passionately. She’d closed her eyes and enjoyed the softness of his lips and the firmness of his body.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” he’d said.
“I’m glad it finally happened,” she’d replied.
From there, it was like they were dance partners in sync to the rhythm of their desires. With little effort, she’d unbuttoned his shirt and unfastened his pants. He’d unzipped the back of her dress in an instant, and they’d stood before each other with only their underwear between them.
Charles had considered asking Stephanie if she was sure she wanted what was to come, but he was dissuaded from doing so when she’d unfastened the back of her bra with a flick of a finger.
He’d kissed her shoulder first, and then her neck and then her lips. Stephanie had kissed him back before pulling away to get into the bed. Charles had followed her between the sheets and she’d broken the silence.