by Marie Astor
Men don’t drink sugary drinks, Mila thought, but knew better than to say anything.
“Again,” the guy with the longer beard demanded, slamming his glass on the counter.
“Why don’t you gentlemen pace yourself?” Mila leaned across the bar with a friendly smile. “What’s your hurry?”
The guy with the bushy beard ogled her cleavage. “I’d like me a taste of that,” he said, grabbing Mila’s breasts.
Mila froze like a deer caught in the headlights. She’d worked in her share of seedy places before, but it’d been a while since she had to fend grubby hands off her boobs. No matter—she might be out of practice, but she could still fend for herself. She was about to unleash a barrage of expletives when the unruly customer squealed like a baby pig and let go of her. Surprised, Mila looked up and saw that somehow Jess had managed to make her way around the bar stand unnoticed and was now holding the fat bully by his ear, as though he were a misbehaving first grader. Her grip was so firm that the man’s ear had turned red.
“That’s no way to treat a lady. Why don’t you apologize?” Jess requested.
“Hey, she was coming on to me, flashing her boobs and all,” he panted, clearly not wanting to apologize.
Jess increased her pressure, twisting his ear so hard it seemed about ready to fall off.
“Okay, okay,” the guy pleaded. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to grab you. I was just having a little fun,” he squealed while his friend looked on in drunken stupor.
“That’s all right. Gentlemen, we appreciate your business, but I think it’ll be best for all of us if you take your party elsewhere,” Mila said firmly. She braced herself, prepared for a whirlwind of profanities, but none followed.
“Thank you. You’ve got a lovely bar here,” the guy with the bushy beard said, Jess still holding his ear tightly. “How much do we owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house,” Mila said, eager to get rid of them.
“We’ll be going then,” he said sheepishly. “Could I have my ear back now?”
“If I ever see you in here again, I’m going to chop it right off,” Jess hissed, tugging it one more time for good measure.
He raised his hands in horror. “You won’t. I promise.”
Jess let go, watching them like a hawk, as the two drunks beelined for the exit.
“I can’t stand losers like that,” Jess spat when she got back behind the bar.
“You handled it really well,” Mila said, still a little shaken up. It was amazing how quickly one got out of habit of dealing with scumbags. So far they’ve been lucky with their clientele, but apparently that was going to change—fame had a price.
“It’s nothing,” Jess replied. “I used to have to deal with much worse at Red Door.”
“I can imagine.” Mila shook her head. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Happy to do it,” Jess said matter-of-factly.
“Happy to do what? What did I miss?” Amy had joined them behind the bar stand.
“It’s nothing,” Mila replied quickly. “I’ll tell you later.”
“What happened?” Amy persisted.
“There was a little altercation and Jess here saved my behind.” Mila quickly told Amy what happened, knowing her friend wouldn’t back off unless she did.
Amy whistled. “Wow, not only are you a pro at mixing drinks, you can hold your own against drunks? Can I pick ’em or can I pick ’em?”
Jess blushed. “You’re making it sound like something much bigger than it was. I grew up with three brothers and I have a black belt in karate. Kicking a fat guy’s butt is a walk in the park compared to that.”
“That’ll do it,” Amy agreed.
“Jess, your shirt is torn.” Mila hurriedly handed Jess a napkin.
“Oh, thanks, I didn’t realize.” Jess clutched the torn cloth to her chest, which had a butterfly tattoo on the left side, right above her breast.
“Oh, a tattoo!” Amy teased her. “You’re a wild one, aren’t you?”
Jess blushed. “I had it done a long time ago.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Amy apologized.
“It’s okay.” Jess shrugged. “I’ve had it for so long, I forget it’s there.”
“I have an extra top in the back—you can wear it,” Mila offered.
“Great, I’ll go and change real quick.” Jess was about to head to the basement.
“How about we all go out for drinks after we close tonight?” Amy asked.
“I’m in,” Mila said. “Jess, it’ll be our treat—it’s the least we can do to thank you for getting rid of those drunks.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jess interjected. “It was really no problem.”
“But we want to,” Mila insisted. “It’ll be fun—a girl’s night out.”
Chapter 3 – Four Weeks Later
Janet Maple checked the address to make sure she had the right building. A part of her still couldn’t believe she was moving in with Dennis Walker. Now and then, she had to look at the ring on her finger to remind herself they were engaged.
“Sorry I’m late!”
The sound of Dennis’s voice made Janet turn around. “It’s all right,” Janet said as she smiled at Dennis. “The realtor isn’t here yet. Busy day?” Even though they both worked for Kirk & Associates, there were times when their assignments took them on different paths. Dennis had been busy doing field research all morning.
“Crazy.” Dennis shook his head. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t want to talk about work now, not when we’re about to see what could be our first apartment together.”
Janet smiled dreamily. “Do you think this could be the one?” she asked, eyeing the seven story brownstone. “Did you see the courtyard in the back?” She grabbed Dennis’s hand, tugging him along for a better view.
“Very nice,” Dennis confirmed eyeing the charming garden in the back of the building. “And I like the location—East Village. But it’s kind of far from the subway, though.”
“Which is probably why we can afford a down payment on it,” Janet promptly pointed out. Their last case at Kirk & Associates had resulted in very handsome bonuses, but Manhattan’s real estate prices were astronomical.
“Does the building have an elevator?” Dennis asked.
“Um, I’m not sure,” Janet lied. There was no elevator, but she decided not to mention it to Dennis, hoping the charming building and the winding East Village street on which it was located would make him oblivious to the fact.
“Dennis, Janet!” That raspy British accent belonged to none other than their realtor.
“Fiona! So great to see you.” Janet plastered on a fake smile as she watched Fiona plant a kiss on Dennis’s cheek. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything—Fiona was their realtor for crying out loud. Janet wrote it off as British eccentricity.
“Janet!” Fiona exclaimed breathily, limiting herself to a limp pat on Janet’s arm. “How wonderful to see you!”
“It’s great to see you too,” Janet lied. She didn’t really like Fiona. Always immaculately put together in tailored suits that showcased her killer body, she made Janet feel like a peasant at royal court. What kind of a name was Fiona anyway? Up until recently, Janet had thought it belonged exclusively in fairy tales. Unfortunately, Fiona just happened to have the exclusive listing for the one bedroom apartment Janet thought might be the perfect home for her and Dennis, so she had to put her qualms aside.
Fiona dangled her keys. “Shall we?”
“By all means.” Dennis offered his arm to Janet, which she promptly took—Fiona better keep her hands off her man.
Fiona fumbled with the front lock, finally getting it open. “Right this way.”
“Isn’t there a doorman?” Dennis asked.
“The super lives in the building and he’s there to take care of packages and such,” Fiona explained. “But there’s no doorman per se.”
Noticing Dennis’s hesitation, Ja
net tugged at his sleeve. “The super is there to take care of packages,” she repeated.
“I got that, but what about monitoring building access? I’d feel much better knowing there was a doorman.”
“There’s an intercom—visitors get buzzed in,” Fiona said primly. “Please follow me. Right this way.” Notwithstanding her three-inch heels, Fiona began an energetic climb up the stairs, the fabric of her skin-tight pencil skirt stretching tautly over her hips as she did so.
Dennis followed after Fiona. As they reached the fifth floor, he called over his shoulder. “Come on, Janet. Keep up!”
At the sight of Fiona’s rhythmically undulating behind so prominently displayed before Dennis’s eyes, Janet started having second thoughts about the whole idea. Perhaps she should’ve opted for an elevator building after all—or a male real-estate agent.
“Keep moving!” Fiona chirped over her shoulder.
“Are we almost there?” Dennis asked, panting theatrically.
Janet knew he was faking it. The man could run ten miles without breaking a sweat.
“It’s top floor!” Fiona informed them.
“Top floor?” Dennis threw a glance over his shoulder and Janet had to grip the rails to steady herself. “At least we’ll be in great shape by the time we get there.”
“Here we are!” Fiona announced triumphantly after reaching the top of the stairs. A faint blush on her cheeks was the only indication of exertion after the stair climb. Except for the top three buttons of her blouse, which had somehow come undone during their climb and now provided an ample view of her cleavage, her appearance was perfectly intact. “Come on, Janet!” Fiona edged closer to Dennis who had by now also reached the top. “I’m sure Dennis can’t wait to see the place.”
Janet smiled bravely, as she conquered the remaining stairs. For her part, she couldn’t claim the same composure as Fiona. Her heart was beating like a sledge hammer and she could feel her back getting damp with perspiration. Loose strands of her hair had treacherously escaped from her updo, which had looked so classy only a few moments ago.
“Janet, honey, are you all right?” Dennis asked with exaggerated concern.
“That was quite a climb,” Janet admitted, sensing Dennis’s ironic glance. Okay, he had won this one—elevators were important.
“Trust me, what you’re about to see is worth a few flights of stairs.” Fiona smiled brightly as she deftly opened the front door lock. “Voila!”
Janet walked inside, instantly forgetting about the steep stairs. The apartment opened into a sunlit living room that was spacious by any standards, but simply ginormous by those of New York City.
“The owner recently redid the floors,” Fiona proudly pointed out. “And since this building was constructed in 1929, it’s got the wonderful pre-war ceilings—”
“I’m more concerned about the pre-war lack of elevator,” Dennis observed.
Janet remained oblivious to her fiancé’s snide remark. The newly finished parquet floors glistened like mirrors under her feet, as she made her way into a perfectly-sized kitchen, complete with new appliances. The open-plan kitchen had a granite counter running along its length. She could just see herself and Dennis perched on bar stools, unwinding with a couple of cocktails after work. This place was perfect. Of course there was the steep stair climb, but she had already caught her breath, and things were never really perfect, were they?
“And of course the building allows pets. I know how important that is to you,” Fiona said proudly.
“Yes, that’s very important to us,” Janet agreed, thinking of her Jack Russell Terrier, Baxter. She could just picture him racing across the vast living room space, not to mention the nearby park that would be the perfect place to walk him.
“Well?” Fiona asked.
“We’ll think about it,” Dennis replied before Janet could get a word in. “Do you have anything else to show us today?”
“I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got.” Fiona clicked her tongue, wringing an imaginary handkerchief with her hands. “I had two more places in mind for you, but both just went under contract.”
“That fast?” Janet asked, shooting Dennis a worried look.
“Good properties go very quickly,” Fiona replied sagely. “I suggest you don’t drag your feet on this one—I’ve got two more showings scheduled today. This apartment won’t be on the market for long.”
“How could it? A place that offers the benefit of a workout every time you come home is bound to have a bidding war,” Dennis observed in full seriousness, but his eyes were filled with playful irony.
Under a different set of circumstances Janet would have laughed, but this was the tenth apartment they had seen and as with its predecessors, Dennis had managed to find a flaw. At this rate they were never going to find a place.
Fiona pursed her lips. “There’s always some give-and-take,” she said icily. “I’ll let you know if anything else comes up in your price range. I’ll walk you out.”
“Are you sure?” Dennis asked. “You might want to save yourself a trip for the next showing.”
“Oh, it’s all right.” Fiona laughed dryly. “I don’t mind a little exercise.”
Once she and Dennis were outside and Fiona had left, Janet eyed Dennis reproachfully. “Did you have to do that?”
“What?” Dennis shrugged innocently.
“You know damn well what. You pissed off Fiona. I doubt she’s going to show us anything else now.”
“If it’s anything like this place, I’d rather she didn’t. I don’t relish the idea of working up a sweat every time I come home.”
“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, there’s got to be some give-and-take.”
“Those are Fiona’s words. I remember someone telling me she wasn’t going to give up until she found the perfect place.”
“That was before I knew the realities of the Manhattan real estate market. I’ve only lived in rentals before.”
“The Janet Maple I know doesn’t cave in so easily.”
“Okay, I guess you’re right. We’ll keep looking,” Janet sighed, frowning.
“Hey,” Dennis’s voice grew lower as he stepped in closer, cupping her face with his hand and gently tilting it up. “Why the long face?”
“It’s just that there’s so much to do. We’ve got our wedding to plan—I was hoping we’d be moved in before then.”
“Our perfect place is waiting for us—I promise. Besides, we’re practically moved in already.” Gently at first and then passionately, Dennis touched his lips to Janet’s.
Janet nodded. Maybe that was the problem—Dennis spent so much time in her studio apartment, he practically lived there. Maybe things were getting too comfortable, or worse—stagnant? The next thing she knew Dennis would be putting off their wedding date and then theirs would be turning into one of those infinite engagements without a wedding date in sight. Stop it, she thought, annoyed at her doubts—spending an hour with Fiona wasn’t exactly a confidence booster.
“Janet, honey, are you all right?” Dennis’s voice brought her back to reality.
“I’m fine.” Janet nodded. “Just a little tired.”
“I’m not surprised—that climb was enough to wear out an Olympic champion.”
Janet nudged him with her elbow. “Give it a rest, Dennis.”
“All right, that was a bit over the top. I was just trying to cheer you up. How about I take you out to dinner and then continue the evening with a complimentary foot massage?”
“Mmm, that sounds nice.” Janet leaned into Dennis’s shoulder, instantly feeling like an idiot—any man who offered his fiancée a foot massage couldn’t be accused of getting cold feet.
“How does Franky’s sound?” Dennis named Janet’s favorite steak house.
“Sounds perfect.”
“So Franky’s it is, then a foot massage, and then perhaps some unscheduled activities,” Dennis’s voice trailed off seductively as he wrapped his arm around Janet’s shoul
ders.
“Now you’re pushing your luck, mister,” Janet teased him, playfully bumping her hip against his.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? We’ll see about that. I’ll have you know I’m very good at foot massages.”
Janet felt a shiver run down her spine, remembering the sensual touch of Dennis’s fingers on her toes—it was almost enough to make her skip dinner altogether. “Is that so?”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Have you now? We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we’ll see.” He nuzzled her neck, the sensual touch of his lips igniting myriads of pleasure sparks.
With a tremendous effort, Janet pulled away from him. “How about that steak dinner you promised me, mister?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dennis took his hands off of her and tipped an imaginary hat. “I beg your pardon. It’s just that I find your charms irresistible and I seem to be forgetting myself.” Then he hailed an approaching cab and ushered her inside.
Chapter 4
The next day, Janet came in to work in a much better mood. Dennis really was very good at foot massages, but then he was exceptional at so many other things too. She felt her face grow warm, the details of last night with Dennis flashing in her mind with life-like vividness. Flushed, Janet looked around self-consciously, hoping her expression didn’t give away her X-rated thoughts. There was really no need to worry since Kirk & Associates private intelligence agency consisted of four rooms and four employees: Janet, Dennis and their boss, Hamilton (Ham) Kirk, making up the investigative staff, along with a recently hired receptionist, Anne Waters. Ham rarely got involved with the nitty-gritty. Instead, he was busy hobnobbing with the high-ranking officials at the FBI and big wigs at other government agencies to ensure a steady flow of work for Kirk & Associates. Years spent as a senior official at the Treasury department of investigations provided Ham with an impressive rolodex, not that he needed to work it much lately. Ever since Kirk & Associates, or to be more specific, Janet and Dennis, had helped the FBI arrest Eastern Europe’s biggest mobster, the agency was overflowing with assignments.