“When she found out about it, she shut down the whole thing.” She shook her head, her face mutinous. “Can you imagine throwing away a project of that size that would help so many people?”
I moved my head from side to side, my eyes focused on her, trying to figure out if this was a test or just the worst coincidence ever. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. These were the stakes if I fucked up and blurred boundaries with Tom. Losing our project.
I had to remember that.
I made myself speak before things got weird, since Melissa was clearly expecting a reaction. “That’s in super bad form. I can’t imagine how that guy thought it would be a good idea to get involved with a donor.”
I was sure my face was showing genuine horror, because that was exactly what I was feeling. “Not his best moment, that is for sure.”
I knew that most likely Melissa hadn’t come in here to terrify me, she was not that type of person. Regardless, I would take this story as a cautionary tale in how I conducted myself with Thomas Hughes.
“I need to get to that meeting with our immigration lawyers. There’s a lot to cover today.” Melissa stood up from her chair then, angling her head towards the door.
“Okay, and no worries. I’ll make sure to let Tom know we have contractors lined up.”
“Great. I feel like we should run it by him, since he wants to be kept in the loop. Make sure you show him the proposal Suarez Construction gave us. If he wants more than that let me know, and I’ll get you in touch with them.”
She was at the door when she turned around again, her hand on the doorknob.
“Actually it may be easier to just put you in contact with them anyway. You’re the one in charge of the project, and the contact person for the donor. We might as well get you in communication with everyone.” My stomach sank again at her words.
It was all riding on me. This project, the agency’s relationship with Tom. All of it. On me.
I just lifted a hand to her as she slipped out of the room and sat at my desk quietly freaking out for a few minutes.
* * *
“This dude is deliberately trying to mess with my head,” I muttered as I walked into the place where I was meeting Tom. Of course he’d pick my favorite fucking restaurant in New York City, which I could only afford like twice a year. Red Rooster on Lenox Avenue was a Harlem jewel.
Owned by an Ethiopian chef who’d been adopted by a Swedish family as a child and blended those two worlds with the food culture of Harlem. This place evoked the golden age of the Harlem Renaissance. Amazing food, great music and a fantastic vibe. It was the coolest spot in town, in my opinion, and of course Tom had to know about it. Because he wasn’t happy with being, rich, nice and gorgeous, he also had to have great taste.
Why the hell did he even want to meet here? It wasn’t exactly a business atmosphere, even at four in the afternoon.
I walked up to the hostess and gave her Tom’s name, and she immediately led me to the dine-in area where he was sitting in a booth by himself. The restaurant area was half empty, so at least we’d be able to have a conversation. I quickly slumped into the red leather booth opposite from Tom, before he did something ridiculous like stand up and pull out a chair for me. Without saying hello, I pulled papers out of my messenger bag with my eyes trained anywhere but on him.
I knew I was being rude, but it seemed like Tom Hughes’s sole purpose in life was to throw me off my game by being fucking perfect. After tugging out what I needed to show him and setting it on the table, I pushed my back against the booth and glared at him. When I saw the amused smile on his face, like he’d caught me being adorable again, I finally lost it and let whatever fly out of my mouth.
“Who picks Red Rooster as a place to meet about a domestic violence shelter renovation? Don’t you have an office where we could do this?” I waved my arm around, signaling the beautiful bar area and even more beautiful servers buzzing around us. “Isn’t this a bit much? I could have come downtown or wherever your office is, you know?”
The bastard laughed.
He literally put his gorgeous fucking head back and laughed at my tantrum. I sat there waiting him out, trying very hard to keep my mouth shut. I was on the verge of losing my temper and, given the conversation I’d had with Melissa just this morning, I knew that was not advisable.
He drove me crazy.
“Hi, Camilo. It’s nice to see you again. Thanks for coming to meet with me. I know you’re very busy.”
And now I felt like an asshole, because I hadn’t even said hello. What was wrong with me? Was I actively trying to get fired? This was next-level self-destructive, even for me.
I gritted my teeth and tried to smile. “Hi, Tom.”
He sat there with a happy grin on his stupid beautiful face and kept talking. “I picked Red Rooster because I thought meeting alone in my office might be awkward for you. At the moment, my office is just me and my assistants and since—”
He stopped talking then, cleared his throat and looked down at the table. That bit of shyness, like he was also a little nervous about our meeting totally disarmed me. I felt my shoulders relax as I focused on what he was saying. “Anyway I thought a public space for our first meeting would be better. I also live just around the corner, on 126th,” he said, pointing at the busy street outside. “And since your office is close too, I figured it would be a good spot.”
Now I felt like an even bigger asshole.
I cleared my throat and tried to cool down. “That makes sense actually, and thanks for considering my comfort. I appreciate it.” I managed to keep a begrudging tone out of my voice, but barely.
He waved his hand like it was nothing, then started talking again. “I just want to clear the air a bit. I realize this could be a very uncomfortable situation for you, given—”
Another embarrassed pause. Tom the gazillionaire was sort of precious.
I angled my head and asked innocently, “How I sucked you off in a bathroom the first time we met?”
He shot me a pleading look and a sound that was a mix between a groan and a laugh escaped his throat.
“Right.” He grabbed the glass of water that was sitting in front of him and took a couple of nervous gulps. When he set it down he seemed a little less flustered. “I just wanted to reassure you I would never use what happened to make you uncomfortable in any way. I’m not going to pretend that the coincidence didn’t throw me for a second.”
Yeah, you and me both, pa.
He put an actual hand to his heart before saying, “If at any moment I say or do anything to make you uneasy, please just say the word. I mean that.” His face looked so earnest.
God he was a really decent guy.
I nodded feeling mollified by how much he was doing to make sure things went smoothly between us and tried to get my head back in the game. We were here to talk about the shelter renovation project not rehash how we knew each other.
“Okay. Thanks for saying that. You didn’t have to, so I appreciate you doing it and I can guarantee I will say something if you make me feel uncomfortable. I’m sure you’ve already noticed I don’t have any issues with saying what’s on my mind.”
He was legit beaming at me now. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” His hazel eyes twinkled like me telling him I’d have no problem cursing him out was the best part of his day.
Tom Hughes did not make it easy for a guy to hate him.
I couldn’t help myself and leaned in, getting closer. We sat there in silence as the energy changed between us, suddenly the air felt charged. The spell broke when a server came to refill our water. We both pulled back and I cleared my throat again.
“So what do you have for me?” Tom asked. His voice sounded a little breathless and it made my mind go somewhere totally not safe for work. I closed my eyes and tried to regroup, again. I’d been at this
meeting for five minutes and I was already picturing us fucking on this table.
I swallowed hard and shoved the folder with the estimates at him. “So those are the estimates we got from the contractors. They built our child therapy center a few years ago and they’ve worked with other agencies like ours in the Tri-State area. They’re very mindful of confidentiality and that we work with trauma survivors. Their workers are also really great about being respectful with the clients, and have even been trained on domestic violence.” I tipped my chin in the direction of the papers he was holding. “Anyways they’re ready to go anytime, so if you approve them, our finance manager and I can start setting up a timeline with them.”
As Tom looked through the papers, a server came by and asked if I wanted anything.
He looked up from what he was reading and told the server offhandedly, “Another seltzer for me. He’ll have a glass of the prosecco.”
My hackles immediately went up. Was he ordering for me?
I was about to tell Thomas Hughes what I thought about people making decisions for me, when I remembered he was a donor for my agency, not my date, and even though he had told me to speak my mind, I still needed to be diplomatic.
I cleared my throat again to get his attention, and made sure I pasted on a smile when he looked up.
I held my hand up for the server who was about to walk off. “Actually, I’m good with water.” I kept my tone light, but just then I wasn’t feeling too concerned about my inability to stay away from Tom. Nothing turned me off faster than a man with a Daddy complex.
Tom looked up and I could see that despite my efforts to appear neutral, he could tell I was not amused. I pointed at the menu.
“I’m not really comfortable ordering alcohol, since this is a business lunch.” I made sure I really emphasized comfortable, given his request I point out my discomfort. He reddened and looked at me contritely. I didn’t want to make things too awkward so, I ventured into a territory I usually avoided. I compromised.
I stared up at the server who was patiently waiting by our table, then at Tom.
“I haven’t had lunch though. So, I’ll take the chicken and waffles. They’re so good here.” I made sure I looked extra hyped about the food to lighten the mood a bit.
He seemed pretty pleased with the fact that he would be paying for some of my nourishment during this business meeting. To be fair, I didn’t really have to fake my enthusiasm. I loved the food here and could rarely afford it. If Tom the gazillionaire wanted to have meetings at my favorite restaurant, then the least he could do was pay for my meal.
“Chicken and waffles and waters then.” Tom’s tone was a mixture of relief and surrender.
After the server walked away Tom put his hands over the papers on the table, winked at me and went back to reading as I sat there assessing the situation. Tom Hughes had an unnerving effect on my body. Not just my body, my person. I felt out of sorts around him, like I wanted to perform for him. Make him see I was likable and sexy and smart. That I wasn’t just some random who sucked off guys at parties. And that line of thinking did make me uncomfortable.
I didn’t care about what people thought of me or how or who I fucked. If Tom was making a judgment on my character over a blow job we both participated in and enjoyed, then he wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be involved with. But it wasn’t Tom judging me. Hell, everything he’d done so far made it pretty clear he wasn’t a judgmental asshole, and yet here I was feeling self-conscious.
This was my MO.
Anytime a lover tried to be kind, or surprised me by not fulfilling my expectations of being a fuckboy, I mined every word or action for the true meaning, the hidden subtext or falsehood. I filled in the blanks with my own self-doubts and baggage. Then I tried to smother my own neurosis by throwing myself into the relationship too hard and too fast, until I either ran out of steam and walked away or scared the other guy off with my clinginess.
And where the fuck was I going with any of this? Tom wasn’t my lover, Tom wasn’t my anything. He was a guy I was working with, so I needed to get my shit together. My face must have been doing something particularly distressing because when Tom finally looked up, he did a double take at whatever he saw. I tried to smile it away and pointed at the estimate. “Any questions?”
He gave me a worried look, but in the end just shook his head. “This all looks good to me. Honestly, I’m not looking to be this closely involved in the decision making for the project, Camilo. I chose New Beginning because you’re doing important work in my community, and have a great track record. I trust you,” he said, earnestly. “My expectation is to get an update and maybe hear about how things are going when we meet. I don’t think it’s my place to pick who you use as contractors or anything else.”
He could have said that from the beginning, but I wasn’t going to make a thing out of it.
“All right.” I nodded as he handed me the papers, trying not to get distracted by how hot he looked in that sapphire blue cashmere sweater. “Well then, I guess the update is we have a contractor. I’ll talk to Melissa tomorrow morning and let her know we’re good to go. We’ll do the renovations in stages, so it doesn’t affect operations too much. The whole thing should be done within six months give or take. We should have a fully renovated shelter by March.”
I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice for the last part. We’d been wanting to do some work on the shelter ever since I’d started five years ago and our goals for what we could do never got close to all the changes Tom’s generous donation would allow.
“Thank you, Tom, really, from all of us at New Beginning. This project is life-changing for the residential program.”
He shook his head again, as if trying to push away the compliment.
“Like I said in the first meeting, I’m very happy and honored to be able to do this. This is something very close to my heart. I’m just glad I have the means to make it happen.”
This should have been a great moment to wind things down and get the hell out of there, instead I blurted out, “Who are you doing this for?”
It seemed like whenever he was around me Tom’s face only had two settings, amusement and disbelief. We sat there quietly for a second and after a moment, he leaned in closer.
“I guess it’s time for us to get to know each other then.”
Chapter Eight
Tom
Camilo looked a little spooked at my suggestion we get to know each other, but since he asked the question I was going to go with it. I wanted to know everything about him. Who he loved. Where all the prickliness came from.
So, before he could take it back, I went in. “I wanted to do something in honor of my tía’s memory. My mother’s youngest sister.” I cleared my throat because suddenly I was feeling choked up. “She died when I was sixteen. She was living here then. She’d been in a very abusive relationship for a long time. Her husband had convinced her to leave the DR, claiming they needed to be away from our family and all the meddling.”
I closed my eyes, remembering how my mom and my grandmother begged her not to go. Telling her they were scared something would happen to her when she was all on her own with him.
Camilo’s face changed then, and all I could see was concern, his entire body totally focused on what I was saying. Those gray eyes flashing. All the abrasiveness gone now.
“That’s typical abuser behavior, to isolate.” He angled his head, as if assessing how this conversation was affecting me. “Sounds like your family tried their best to be supportive.”
I pursed my lips, remembering how awful that time was. “They tried, but in the end they weren’t able to help her. Things got so bad when they got here, she decided to leave him. But when she called shelters for help, she couldn’t find anyone who spoke Spanish. She eventually tried to leave by going to a neighbor, but he found her.”
Cami
lo put his hand over mine, his eyes grim. “That’s why you’re donating the money to our shelter, so we can help women like your aunt.”
I nodded and he squeezed my hand. “It’s a wonderful way to honor her. A lot of survivors will benefit from your kindness.”
I exhaled, feeling heavy from the conversation, but also like Camilo would be here with me for as long as I needed it. After a moment he leaned in and said, “Tell me about your family. Are they all still in the DR or just your parents?”
I smiled at him, grateful he was steering the conversation in another direction. “Yes, they’re all there pretty much. I think I’m the only Dominican without at least one relative in New York City.”
Camilo laughed at that. “I was wondering if you at least had one primo or something. My friend Nesto seems to have family all over New York State.”
I wondered if this Nesto was more than a friend, since he’d mentioned him a couple of times already.
I had to calm down.
“Not me. My brother came here for medical school, but he went back as soon as he was done. My parents and him come visit and I go back a few times a year, but they like it there, they won’t leave that island.” I smiled, thinking about my dad’s devotion to the “homeland of his heart.” “My dad never really had any interest in coming back to the States. He wasn’t very close to his parents and he loves life in the DR.”
I lifted a shoulder before I spoke. “Family was always my mom’s side, and there were a lot of them.” Camilo grinned at that. “My grandma lived with us too, so the family always came together at our house. We always had a ton of people at our place.”
Camilo’s face turned wistful when I said that, and it made me want to know all about him. Know all the reasons that made that heart-stopping smile escape his lips, so I could do away with them one by one.
He quietly waited for me to continue. “My mom is a sociology professor at the public university, so in addition to our relatives, we always had students and other faculty using our living room to have political meetings or for planning protests. It was an interesting household to grow up in. How about you? Do you have a big family?”
American Fairytale (Dreamers) Page 7