Her face lights up and she rushes toward us. “Manny!” She cries and kisses him on each cheek.
“LaLa, you are looking so well. How long has it been?” Manny has his hand on her shoulder.
“Too long, my dear boy.” She turns to me. “And who is your handsome friend?”
“Mrs. Lucille Rochefort De La Cologne, may I present to you, Mr. Bradley Dobrov?” He does a little bow and I almost laugh out loud.
She takes my hand. “If you are a friend of Manny, you may call me LaLa and consider yourself my friend, as well. Manny, you see, saved my life.”
Manny just grins. We are invited to sit down and LaLa explains how she and her husband were coming home from dinner, strolling along Central Park, when they were attacked at knifepoint by a thug demanding their money. When they hesitated, the guy pushed LaLa’s husband to the ground, knocking him out, and raised the knife toward her throat, saying that now he was going to kill her just for the fun of it. Manny happened to be returning from his favorite cigar store, enjoying a smoke, when he came upon the scene. He started yelling and running right at the guy, who dropped his knife and ran away. He called an ambulance and waited with LaLa until it came.
“I would do anything for Manny,” she concludes. “So, tell me,” she claps her hands together, “what can LaLa do for you?”
“You used to be big in real estate, right?” Manny asks her.
“The tops,” she answers, straightening her already perfect posture.
“You ever know a couple from Tribeca called Swanson? Wife was in real estate?”
“Know them? Darlings, Beverly was my sister. She married Dan Swanson and then completely cut me out of her life. So sad. I tried. Lord knows I did. I heard they had a baby girl. The real estate community is fairly small and word does get around. I always wanted to meet my niece. Jean and I never had time to raise children. We were always traveling to vineyards for his wine business and then I got into real estate. The business just took off. Not a life for a child.” She looks to the fireplace, sighs. “Anyway, the last I heard was that Beverly and Dan were lost at sea and their bodies were never found. So strange.” She goes to a bookshelf and pulls out a gold photo album. “Here we are as teenagers in Southampton,” she says, showing us a photo of two stunning girls, one blonde, one brunette, holding wooden paddles. The ocean rolls behind them in Technicolor green. The blonde looks exactly like pre-Bohemian Rhapsody Naomi and I feel a pang in my gut.
I study the picture, then ask her, “LaLa, did Beverly know someone named Chase or Darren Broderick?”
She furrows her brows, stares some more at the fire. She gets up and retrieves an identical photo album from the same shelf. “There was a younger fellow she met one summer at the beach. He was always dressed like he fell out of a Polo ad and dropping this name or that one. I never trusted him. Thought he tried too hard. But his name wasn’t Chase or Darren, he went by Broderick. Was always correcting people if they tried to shorten it. Very rude. Why?”
My head’s reeling. I get up, try to clear my head. This guy dated Naomi’s mother? I have to talk to Naomi. “LaLa, you have been so helpful. It was a pleasure meeting you, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
Manny stands as well, and LaLa starts to rise. “No, no, my dear lady,” Manny says, “please, we will see ourselves out. You have been too kind.” He leans down and kisses her on both cheeks and I do the same. She smells powdery and floral. In the elevator, I’m silent. Manny busies himself on his cell. When we get outside, he tells me he’s got to meet someone and he’ll see me at home. I give him a bro hug and thank him. The next thing I know, an Uber pulls up and Manny opens the door. His brother-in-law takes me home and refuses to hear anything about me owing him a tip. I hope there’s a day in the future I can repay all of his family’s kindness to me. At this point, I think even the promise of my first born might not cover it.
Chapter Eighteen
Let’s get something straight
NAOMI
Wednesday, February 16th
Viktor hugs me tight, and then looks behind me, suspicion drawing a dark frown over his handsome face when he sees the town car pulling away.
“Where you been?”
“Out.” I snap. I feel like a damn poodle on a tight leash and I hate it. There is no pleasing these damn men. I can’t do the easy-swinging Naomi act for one more day without puking. I’ve trotted by their sides, danced around the display stand, jumped up on the table for examination, panted, and howled, but the collar and dry treats are starting to choke. And I feel it, the madness to be free, like a fatal case of rabies; I’m ready to bite back.
“Who with?” Viktor questions me while walking, kicking up slush with his pricey boots.
I growl.
We keep walking and I huff and stumble from a lack of food and too much stress. As we enter the building, I give Gus my death stare, and he physically moves backwards as if I’m going to strike him. Smelling an easy target, I break my leash and attack.
“Don’t ever do that again Gus, he wants to come up, he comes up. He’s a friend of mine, you know who I mean, is that clear?”
Just recalling the sight of the doorman throwing Bradley into the street fires my blood.
Gus nods and glances at Viktor. So it is true. These two men have something going on and I don’t like the taste of it at all. What is this? The prison warden and the stoolpigeon?
“Whose name is on the loft deed Gus?”
“Yours.”
“Who pays the maintenance fees, the taxes, gave you tips since I was ten?”
“Ya do Miss Naomi.”
“Damn straight, start acting that way, or I’m going to the building super with a complaint, you got me?”
“Sure thing Miss Swanson, clear as a New York sky.”
I march into the nearest elevator and Viktor follows behind, like a colt who’s stretched his rope too far and knows it.
“And you!” I hiss, “Let’s get something straight, you are my roommate, I’ve known you a few weeks, you don’t own me, control me, or decide who I can see or not see. I’ve had it up to the Empire State building and back down again with Darren Broderick, Gus, and you Viktor Slotzky, you read me?”
“Sure KuKu, but baby, I like this heat in you, you look hot as hell when you’re mad.”
The elevator dings, and the doors open. The pressures of the confined space, mixed with these random orders from men I barely know chafes like a burr under a new saddle. I stamp off as if I’m heading to the Russian city of Stalingrad’s front lines in 1942, and mutter, “I hate this! All these questions. Everybody in my business. Bradley never tried to control me.”
A strong arm grabs me from behind and spins me around.
“What did you say?”
Shit.
“Oh, you might as well know everything, it’s not like you’re sensitive. Bradley Dobrov is my old asshat.” I spit it at him, like used up gum.
We enter the loft; now we’re both hot enough to light a stick of dynamite with our fingertips. Viktor throws off his heavy coat and roars, “You lived with Bradley?”
“Oh yes buddy, and more than lived, we were lovers for almost two years.”
“Lovers!”
“I don’t get furious often, but when I do, you’d better head for the foxholes you Russian control freak.”
I throw my purse and coat down, then head for the kitchen and a bottle of anything strong. I slam cabinet doors, rattle hardware, and swear like a sailor, the edge of anger just grows denser when I enter the black haze.
“Dobrov, my friend, he’s the cheating, sadist asshat?” Viktor both shouts and snorts together, making a gurgling sound like a man laughing under water.
“That’s right, and there’s more.” I open a new bottle of something, I don’t know what, and drink from the rim, while swinging my arms out wide like an inmate in the upstate asylum.
“He wasn’t cheating, it was all a misunderstanding, and I ruined our relation
ship because I fell into the Chase and Molly trap like a winter fly in a screen.”
“What?”
“Never you mind,” I smirk, drinking another long swig of the burning fire.
“So, what are you saying KuKu, you still love that bastard?”
I jump back, thinking Viktor is about to hit me, but he just grabs the mystery bottle out of my hand and takes a deep drag himself. I look at his beautiful body, his gorgeous face, remember how nice he’s been to me, and I sag to the floor and cry into my hands.
“KuKu, don’t cry.”
He slides down the cabinet and lands beside me on the floor. I sink into his shoulder and sob. “I loved him so much Viktor, sorry, but I did. Then he cheated, or I thought he did, and then he had sex with those two Russian whores. Sorry, Luba and your sister…anyway it’s all too late now to fix it.”
“You want to fix it?” He takes a deep swallow and passes me the bottle. We take turns until it’s empty.
He kisses me and I kiss him back.
“You are so good to me Viktor, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Don’t move out and leave me, promise…”
“Never baby. I got you. Bradley’s a broken down model without a future or a faithful bone in him. Let me take care of you Naomi, I can you know.”
He pulls me closer, drags my limp body into his lap, and softly brushes back my riotous hair.
“You like me a little?”
“Oh course I like you Viktor, you help me so much, you make me laugh. I’m sorry I was so mean before.”
“I tell you a secret.” He shifts his weight and opens my legs so I am straddling him on the kitchen tile. “Soon, Viktor will be a rich man. Then you marry me, no?”
He licks my tears off my cheeks and I smile.
“You land a big part in a new play? I heard you gave up your reality gig.”
He laughs and grunts, “No, not much of an actor. It’s business deal. Big deal this time. My family is coming over; we all go to the Bahamas soon. We are buying a high rise building over on Chambers Street.”
I freeze.
Viktor’s hands are busy trying to pull my sweater over my head, but I grab his shoulders and hiss, “What did you just say?”
Chapter Nineteen
We don’t need another caveman
BRADLEY
Thursday, February17th
Manny never did come home last night, and I slept like the dead. Even though my head was spinning with all the new revelations we learned at LaLa’s, I swear I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Twelve hours later, I wake up, mouth full of cotton, but otherwise just dandy. I roll off the couch, stretch, pad into the kitchen for some espresso. The sun’s out so I open the window and the air is surprisingly warm. All the scents of the city rise up and float in: honey roasted peanuts, smoky chestnuts, frying meat, the slightly metallic tinge to the air. I check the temp and it’s a balmy fifty. Good, maybe we can finally get rid of the last of Winter Storm Norman. And since when do we name snowstorms, I wonder. As I ponder that mystery, my phone pings. It’s Naomi.
You’re not going to believe this!!!!!
Now what? I type back.
Now what?
She answers immediately.
I think Viktor’s family is doing some kind of real estate deal with Daren/Chase Broderick’s family. WTF?
I think about telling her what I learned last night. That she has an aunt she’s never met. That either Darren or Chase had a teenage crush on her mom. That he’s changed his name for some reason. It’s too much. I can’t just text all that. Besides, I learned my lesson about texting with the whole Molly debacle. If it’s really important, we are going to have to meet in person.
I need to see you, I type.
She types back.
????
Too much to explain in txt. Meet me at Pier 5 in an hour.
I wait. She starts to write, stops, starts, stops. Finally I put the phone down and scan the fridge. If my check doesn’t get deposited in my account today, I’m going to be living off beer and coffee. I have better luck with the freezer. There’s a couple of frozen pizzas. As I crank up the oven, my phone pings.
I have to stop by the office. How about after work? Six?
Work? I can’t believe she’s going into enemy territory. We have no idea what—or who—we’re dealing with.
Not a good idea. I type.
Nobody asked your opinion, slick.
I’m going with you.
No answer. I wait. Type it again and send. I pop the pizzas into the oven and set the timer. Twenty minutes later I have lunch and my answer.
I don’t need you turning into a caveman too. I’ll be fine. Will tell you everything l8r…c u @6.
I don’t answer. See how she likes it. The pizza is almost better than the box would have been, but it does stop the growling in my stomach. At least what I have planned for our meeting is free and awesome. I love New York.
Chapter Twenty
Two rings and a thing
NAOMI
Thursday, February17th
Pier 5, why did Bradley suggest this as our meeting place? I arrive at the Brooklyn Bridge Park, off Furman Street twenty minutes late and out of breath. It’s beautiful here next to One Brooklyn Bridge Park and I try to gain a calm vibe. Does Bradley plan on taking the NY Waterway’s East River Ferry? I hope so. The destinations along the Brooklyn, Queens, and Manhattan waterfront are just what I need to get a grip on reality.
Bradley won’t like that I’m late, it’s totally unlike the old Naomi, but trendy for the hipper version I suppose. That slow ass Uber driver took so many wrong turns I could have walked here faster. Plus, he seldom looked at the road; he was so fixated on me that those foreign dark eyes almost steamed over the rearview mirror. Of course to be fair, I was changing clothes in the back seat, restyling my hair and applying fresh makeup, switching out my shoes, and taking off my bra at the time. I laughed at first, but by the last two blocks I got angry and shouted, “Turn around, you’re not paying extra for the show.”
That dickweed Bradley better be waiting. I still love my old flame but he always runs at the first sign of trouble. If he gave up on me and took off, I’m going to go screaming down the slushy sidewalk at the top of my lungs.
I rush through the entry, scan the area, and see his gorgeous dark head. Even from behind Bradley’s so beautiful; my heart still breaks a little when I see him. I wish I didn’t love him so much.
I almost run right into him as he abruptly stands. He turns and grins. We look at each other, our eyes going where our minds won’t let us tread. He makes a half attempt to hug me and I step into his arms and squeeze him tight. I don’t care if he’s done with me; I need to feel his strength tonight. Our embrace lasts longer then friends, but I don’t care. I love his scent, his feel, the memories come flooding back, and I feel tears in my eyes. I brush them away and pull out of his arms.
“What’s wrong?”
I appreciate the concern I see in his blue eyes and I try not to think it means anything.
“I have news, so much to tell you.”
We sit, I drop my coat, and I notice Bradley’s eyes going to my thin slip dress, and colorful vest Viktor bought for me. I’m glad I changed clothes now. Just for that second of masculine approval, even if I’m freezing my ass off.
“You look nice Naomi, can’t get over your look, the black hair.”
“Well, you left with Molly and never came back, so I decided to change myself into a woman a guy would want.”
I sound all pathetic and mushy. I can’t be that girl now. I have to be tough. I’m facing serious drama. I want Bradley back. If I let myself beg him to come back, I’ll be just like Mom.
“Naomi, you didn’t have to change…”
“It’s okay Bradley. I take responsibility for being the boring partner. All those late nights at McMaster Swartz, the long weekends at the kitchen table designing spreadsheets, you could do so much better, and hey you did right?” I try to laugh but
it comes off like a croak. “Anyway, it’s a good thing I hyped myself up…or I guess it is. Damn Bradley there’s something very suspicious going on and I don’t know what to do. I need your help.”
“I know. I have lots of news for you too. I need to tell you about what Manny…”
I shift in my seat; I’m too anxious to wait until he tells me his ‘news’ I’m too afraid to hear it, especially if it concerns Manny. Bradley’s probably going to confess to having a model orgy with his deviant friend, or moving in with Luba. I can’t hear that right now. So I interrupt by searching in my purse, reaching inside, and tossing two diamond engagement rings on the bench between us.
That shuts him up.
“What the hell are those?”
“It seems Bradley Dobrov, that not all men need Internet Molly’s help with their proposals. I’m engaged to two men.” I realize I sound hysterical, so I take a deep breath while he gives me the death stare.
“What? I’m not going to marry either one of them.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?”
“Just listen, Chase and Molly both lied, broke us up, got you out of the picture, why is that?”
“That’s what I mean to…”
“You know about Viktor giving me a ring, forcing one on my finger, now he insists I wear it, but I took it off at work, and then Darren started in on me about how I needed to be packing bikinis for our trip together to the Bahamas, and how it would be a great time to announce our engagement…and I thought I could snoop better if I said yes…and he really wasn’t taking a no anyway…so hell Bradley, I’m in a mess.”
Bradley’s just staring. He opens his mouth, closes it. I take another deep breath and rush on.
“I figure those two want to marry me, that’s suspicious right? We lived together for eighteen months and you were in no hurry, so why the bum rush. Two men with a real estate connection worth millions of dollars, want to marry me right away…so I asked myself why…it’s something legal…they need the marriage certificate…for what? What are they up to?”
Bradley & Naomi, ...To Me & You (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 2) Page 6