by Wilde, Raina
"I'm just checking. I don't want to be surprised when my grades are posted online," she said, putting the notebook away and whipping her long, naturally red hair up into a messy bun. She was petite and pale, and wore large square framed glasses. She stood up, shouldering her large tote bag, and looked up at Bea. Bea was the complete opposite to her, but they were best friends regardless. Bea's honey brown skin shone in the warm sun, the first genuinely hot day of the summer. Leah could practically feel the freckles on her shoulders coming out every minute she stayed in the sun.
"What was your topic for the ethics paper?" Bea asked as they walked through the campus.
"Big pharma," Leah replied.
"Let me guess-against?" Bea asked, looking over and smiling.
"Of course," Leah replied with a sunny, optimistic grin.
"Ever the idealist. You'll make a great doctor," Bea said.
"If I ever get that far," she replied.
"Of course you will. You're the best student at this place," Bea answered.
"Don't be silly," Leah said.
They reached the gate that opened up into the streets of Cambridge.
"Anyway," Bea said. "Do you want to go out for a drink tonight? To celebrate the end of our first year of pre-med," Bea raised her arms in the sky and turned in a circle.
"Yeah, only about 15 more years to go," Leah laughed.
"So, drinks?" Bea asked.
"I dunno..." Leah replied reluctantly.
"Oh Leah, let your hair down!" Bea cried.
"Fine! Okay! I don't really want to go home anyway."
"Still not getting along with your mom?" Bea asked as they walked toward her apartment.
"Not really," Leah replied.
"Want to talk about it?" Bea asked. She was always easy to talk to. She wanted to be a psychiatrist, and Leah thought it was a good fit. Bea always had a sympathetic ear.
"Maybe later. Will you put some make-up on me?" Leah asked.
"Ooh of course! Do you want to borrow one of my dresses?" She asked.
"Yeah, maybe," Leah answered with a smile.
Bea's apartment was on the upper floor of an old colonial style house. It was a single bedroom, a kitchen with a small dining table, and a living room big enough for a couch and TV stand. The bathroom was the size of a closet. Leah showered and put on one of Bea's dresses. It was a little big on her— Bea was curvy in all the right places—-but she completed it with a black studded belt that pulled the dress in at the waist.
When Leah came out of the bathroom Bea whistled.
"You look fantastic!" she gushed. "Now sit down," she slapped the seat of a kitchen chair. "I'm going to put some make-up on you."
When Bea was finished Leah jumped up and looked in the mirror. Bea had curled her hair, which was naturally a little wavy, but now it had big bouncy curls that shimmered when she moved. Her cheeks were blushed with pink and her eyes were rimmed with black liner. Bea had even put on fake lashes. She was almost unrecognisable.
"Wow Bea, I don't even look like me!"
"Of course you look like you!" she cried.
Leah flipped through a magazine on the table while Bea got ready. She emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of perfume and hairspray.
"Where are we going?" Leah asked. "And why are we both wearing black?"
"The Middle East," Bea replied.
"Huh?" Leah grunted, confused.
"It's a bar in Central Square," Bea stuck her own fake lashes on and then turned around.
"Ready?" she asked.
"I guess so," Leah said. She slipped on a pair of Bea's shoes and they went out the door.
#
It was still early when they got to the bar and they sat at one of the booths and ordered food.
"Mmmm... I love baklava," Bea said, picking up one of the honey soaked pastry squares and popping it into her mouth.
"You're not supposed to eat dessert first," Leah said laughing.
"So, tell me about your parental woes," Bea said, licking the honey from her fingers.
Leah sighed. "I feel bad, and self-righteous. I don't even want to say..."
"Come on, you normally have a great relationship with your mom. What's the deal?"
"It's the guy she's been dating recently," Leah said finally. "He's the CEO of Medtex, this pharmaceutical company that's been snapping up patents for new drugs left and right,"
"And then selling the drugs for a profit, right?" Bea asked with a smirk.
"Don't smile like that," Leah said, playfully slapping her hand. "You know how I feel about expensive prescriptions."
"Our whole year knows how you feel about that," Bea said. Leah relented and smiled, taking a sip of her drink.
"How did your mom meet this guy, anyway?" Bea asked.
"On a flight. She's been working the 11 o'clock flight from Boston to Fort Worth a lot. There are offices down there so Lawrence travels to Texas and back a couple times a week."
"Ooh, it's so romantic," Bea gushed.
Leah rolled her eyes, "It's not romantic," she said ripping off a piece of pita bread and scooping up some hummus. "It's not the 50's anymore when being a flight attendant was glamorous. It's hard work..."
"I know Leah," Bea replied, sticking her tongue out. "Speaking of romance, someone over there is giving you eyes," she winked.
"Where?" Leah asked, half turning in her seat.
"Don't turn around!" Bea exclaimed.
"He must be looking at you," Leah said, turning back.
"Nope. Definitely you. Get up and go to the bathroom," Bea said, gesturing Leah away with her hands.
"What? Why?" Leah asked.
"Because I want to see if he watches you," she winked. "Go!"
Leah rolled her eyes and stood up. "Good thing I really have to go to the bathroom, or else I wouldn't be doing this," she turned and tripped a little from the two drinks on an empty stomach, and Bea's heels. She heard Bea laugh behind her and ignored it, walking with as much confidence as she could muster to the bathroom. Bea was right, though. From the corner of her eye she could see a guy leaning causally against the bar watching her as she approached. He was wearing a white shirt, a black leather jacket and had a pair of dark sunglasses hooked into one of the pockets. The jeans he was wearing were ripped in places, but the fit was perfect. His hair was a little long on top and pushed back into a messy quiff. He was perched on the edge of a bar stool, leaning casually toward the bar. On the seat next to him sat a motorcycle helmet. Leah's eyes met his, and her heart sped up a little. He half smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. She felt flushed and ducked into the bathroom quickly.
"Wow," she whispered to herself. She looked in the mirror. Her make-up still looked fresh. She washed her hands and composed herself before slipping back through the door. When she stepped out, her eyes immediately flew to the place where the man had been sitting, but now he was gone. She felt the weight of disappointment wash over her. Oh well, she thought, at least she didn't have to embarrass herself in front of him. But when she turned toward the table she could feel the horrible gnaw of jealousy explode in her chest. He was sitting at their table talking to Bea. Of course, it was always Bea.
She walked back to the table slowly. As she approached he smiled at her and slid down the booth, making room for her to sit down. Leah smiled politely back, and perched on the edge of the booth.
"Leah, this is Jack," Bea said. She was grinning, "Jack... this is Leah."
"Nice to meet you, Leah," he said. His voice was a low seductive purr.
"Anyway," Bea interrupted. "I was just telling Jack that I had to get going, but you two should stay." Bea stood up and winked. Leah gave her a wide-eyed expression meant to say, 'What the fuck are you doing leaving me here?, but Bea just smiled and slid her coat on.
"See you later, sweetie," she said to Leah, giving her a kiss on the cheek and winking. She mouthed "text me" and made a typing gesture with her thumbs as she backed out of the door.
Leah swooped around the t
able and sat facing Jack. He had one arm casually draped across the back of the booth. Leah felt a shiver run through her body when she realised his arm would have been inches from her skin before she moved around the table.
"So, Leah," he said, leaning forward, "What's your story?"
Leah felt her phone buzz in her purse. She tried not to look down and fished it out. She knew it would be a text from Bea, and when she quickly glanced at the screen the message read "Tld u he was chking u out ;-)"
"I don't have a story," Leah said, shoving her phone back into her purse.
"Everyone has a story," Jack said, leaning forward.
"Aren't you disappointed Bea left?" Leah asked. Jack squinted a little and looked into her eyes.
"Why would I be disappointed?" he asked.
"I thought you came over here to talk to her," Leah replied.
Jack was quiet for a minute, studying her. Then he sat back in the seat.
"So that's your story," he said with a grin.
"I told you..." Leah began, but he interrupted her.
"I know, you don't have a story. Let's just go with that. I don't have a story either," Jack said. "For the rest of the night we're not ourselves."
Leah studied him and smiled. She usually wasn't forward with men, mostly because she didn't think she had the time for a relationship. Some weeks she felt like she could barely hold her head above water in school. Even her friendship with Bea suffered sometimes; she would go weeks without seeing her, days without answering a text.
"Okay then, Mr. Jack no-story, what are we going to talk about if we can't talk about ourselves?"
"Who says we have to talk?" Jack asked, his eyes glittering. Leah felt a shiver of excitement run through her.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah, I am actually," Leah replied. She had barely touched the pita and dips Bea had devoured in front of her.
"Like burgers?" Jack asked.
"A burger would be great," Leah answered.
"Are you feeling brave?" he asked with a grin.
Leah looked at him warily. "What do you mean?"
Jack held out the motorcycle helmet that had been on the seat next to him. He had a devilish grin on his face.
"You want me to get on a motorcycle with you?" Leah asked, astonished. "Sorry, I just met you..."
"It's probably not the type of motorcycle you're thinking of," he replied.
Leah just eyed him warily.
"Come, look. I'm a safe driver, I promise," the intonation in his voice when he said 'I promise' made Leah shiver. She found herself wishing he was closer, whispering that phrase in her ear. She felt herself blush.
"Okay, I'll look," she said, suddenly desperate for some fresh air.
"Great," Jack was grinning. He stood up and casually handed Leah the helmet. She gripped it with both hands, holding it in front of her body like a shield. Jack led her outside, occasionally glancing behind to make sure she was still following him. They made their way around the side of the building where Jack had parked, and when Leah saw the motorcycle she laughed.
"Don't laugh," Jack exclaimed, he was pretending to sound offended but still had a smile on his face. "It's a Vespa. They're Italian."
"I know what it is," Leah said. She had gone through a Mod phase in middle school. She still had the old posters of The Who and The Kinks in her closet. She had laughed, but she was secretly delighted. Scooters like this were pretty common in Europe, but you didn't often see them in the US. She had always wanted one, but was never brave enough to learn how to drive one.
"Get on," Jack said, slapping the back seat. She secured the helmet over her hair and slipped onto the scooter. Jack gracefully got on in front of her.
"Where do I hold on?" Leah asked, looking for somewhere on her seat to hang on to. Jack reached around and grabbed one of her hands. His were warm and smooth. He pulled her arm forward and looped it around his body.
"You have to hang on to me," he said. There was an edge of delight in his voice that sent another shiver down Leah's spine. She slid her other arm around him and as he pulled the bike away she gripped him tighter. It was scary at first; Jack wove in and out of traffic and Leah squeezed her eyes shut in fear. But after a while she got used to the leaning sensation as Jack turned the bike and she opened them again. It was completely dark now, and the city sped by in a blur of multi-colored streetlights. After a while Jack pulled the bike up in front of a dirty looking burger van parked on the edge of Boston Common.
"This is where we're eating?" Leah asked.
"Don't knock it till you try it. These are the best burgers," Jack replied. Leah watched as he approached the window and ordered. He joked with the vendor, smiling and laughing, and Leah got the impression that they knew each other. He came back with two greasy white bags.
"Do you want to eat somewhere with a view?"
"A view?" Leah asked.
Jack fished a set of keys out of his pocket. He winked at her. "Follow me."
He crossed the street toward a row of expensive town homes that overlooked Boston Common. Leah watched as he slipped a key into one of the doors and stepped in.
"Do you live here?" she asked, shocked.
"Do I look like I live here?" he asked with a grin.
"Then whose house is this?" Leah asked. She was reluctant to go inside.
"A friend of a friend is the maintenance guy in this building. He copies keys and lets us know when the owners are out of town."
"That's illegal!" Leah gasped.
Jack shrugged.
"I can't go in there," Leah said.
"No one will ever know. Especially if we stop making a scene on the doorstep," Jack replied.
Leah hesitated, then her stomach rumbled. She looked at Jack again; he was easily the most gorgeous man she had ever been on a date with—if she could even call this a date. Finally, she relented, and followed Jack up the steps.
He grinned at her and disappeared inside. The lobby was smooth polished wood and shining white marble floors. Jack walked casually to an elevator and pressed the button. Once inside he slipped a key into the hole under a button for Penthouse Suite 1. The doors opened into a modern open-plan apartment that was sparkling clean.
"Wow," Leah said.
"Yeah, pretty cool, right?" Jack replied. He had kicked his shoes off by the door and sunk into a couch. There was a wall of windows that overlooked the Common.
"This is incredible," Leah said. She was in awe as she walked around the apartment.
"You're going to eat that on the couch?" Leah exclaimed as Jack pulled out the burger.
"Yeah, why?" he asked, taking a bite.
"What if you get grease on the couch?"
Jack shrugged, and Leah laughed. Part of her was appalled at what they were doing, breaking in to someone else’s apartment. But another part of her was thrilled. It was people like this who repelled her. The super rich. People like her mother's new boyfriend. She sat down beside Jack and ate.
They sat side by side in the apartment, talking about everything but themselves. Leah was surprised to find they had similar tastes in almost everything: music, art, movies. Their conversation rolled easily from topic to topic, and Leah began to feel more comfortable with Jack than she did even Bea.
Eventually Jack wandered to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of wine.
"Won't they notice it's missing?" Leah asked.
"Probably not. It's cooking wine," Jack replied, pulling the cork out.
"How do you know the difference between cooking wine and drinking wine?" Leah asked.
Jack looked at her and for a second Leah thought he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Then he shrugged it off.
"You know, dusty and old vs. shiny and new," he said in a fake Irish accent. Leah laughed, immediately getting the reference to the TV series Black Books.
They drank most of the wine, watching the lights of Boston twinkle in the distance across the Common. Their conversation slowed to a co
mfortable silence, and Leah could feel herself wanting to move closer to Jack. She placed her hand on the couch between them, as casually as possible, just to be a little closer.
Jack looked down at it, and Leah could see a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He stood up and reached down for her hand. His touch was warm, electric. He pulled her up from the couch. Their bodies were close, almost touching. Jack was nearly a foot taller than Leah, and she had to crane her neck a little to look up at him. His fingertips were lightly skimming across the skin of her arms. It made her shiver. Her breath quickened as she looked into his eyes.
"Come with me," he whispered into her ear and tugged lightly on her hand. His breath on her neck almost made her moan. He pulled her through a door into a bedroom. It had floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city on two sides. Jack pulled Leah in close and closed the bedroom door. He held her face between his hands and looked into her eyes, drinking her in. Then he lowered his face and kissed her, lightly at first, and then deeper. Leah moaned and kissed him back, eagerly and hungrily.
Jack growled, low and seductive, and backed Leah up against one of the windows. His hands roamed over her body and slid up under her dress. She lifted her arms and he pulled it over her head, slowly, carefully, and let it drift to the floor gracefully.
Leah had on a matching black bra and undies set and black thigh-high stockings. Jack stepped back and looked at her. His eyes were dark and hungry. He slid out of his leather jacket and easily pulled his shirt over his head. Leah's breath quickened. His body was chiselled, his hipbones defined and tantalising. Leah's eyes followed their lines until they disappeared under his jeans. He had tattoos on his biceps and chest, simple graphic black patterns. Jack stepped toward her, pushing her body against the cool glass with his. Leah whimpered as Jack entwined his hands in her hair and kissed her.
He guided her toward the bed and laid her down, slowly pulling off her stockings. She watched him unbuckle his belt and her breath quickened. He let his jeans fall to the floor and stood watching her as he slipped on a condom. Then he kneeled on the bed over her.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and throaty.