by Tara Oakes
I suddenly remember my audience at the back table and turn quickly in that direction as if to implore some assistance, before this creep’s fingers start to get any friendlier. Theresa, Mike and Tony are all standing up on high alert looking pissed and scared accordingly.
But no Dom. Where the hell is Dom? I find out soon enough.
“Hey babe, what’s the holdup on those drinks?”
The familiar voice feels like a life preserver as it creeps up behind me, loud enough for my admirer to hear. Todd instantly shakes back his hand and stands away from me. I can see the color drain from his face as Dom steps up right behind me and slowly slides his hands around my sides and down to my hips.
I’m not sure if he can sense my sudden goose-fleshed chill, but he instinctively moves his hands to my arms and rubs them, as if giving me some of his warmth to calm my flesh, while pulling me back into his chest. I’m thankful for the support of his body behind mine, as my knees start to buckle. Unconsciously, I stretch my neck as I feel a surge of heat explode from my back, where it rests on Dom, spreading across my chest up to my burning face.
I feel hot, soft, lips on the skin behind my ear, and then... POW! Another explosion heads straight down from that spot to my stomach and then trails my legs. The closest I can equate it to is a steep drop from a cliff dive. His lips press deep into the space between my jaw and my ear.
I hear his breathing and feel that same breath tickle the baby-fine hairs around my lower scalp. The heat is becoming too intense, and I prepare to break into a heavy sweat. But then... then the deep pressure of his lips parts and gentle suctions begins. That’s it. I loose it. The immense heat building suddenly switches to cold as if I’ve just jumped from fire into ice. I’m left shuddering and weakened as the suction grows before abruptly, ending as Dom releases his lips and sweeps them over my ear, whispering a soothing “Shhh...”
His lips leave behind a trace of moisture that now grows cold as it’s exposed to the passing air. I slowly snap back to reality, feeling the void on my neck where his lips have been barely a moment before. I want those lips back. I want that feeling back. What was that feeling?
Dom turns to look at Todd as we can both feel him staring at out performance.
“Oh... hey man. Sorry. Is my girl monopolizing the bar?”
He switches directions and grabs the attention of the female bartender about five feet away with a quick nod. She stares at him longingly. So that was what would get her attention! A hot guy. That answers why I’ve been trying to flag her down for five minutes without so much as eye contact in return. Bitch. What?! Where did that come from? I’ve been passed over by a bartender before. I never took it personally.
The redhead behind the bar comes over to Dom and throws her bar cloth over her shoulder while resting her arms out to support herself against the shiny wood.
“What can I get for you, darlin’?”
I notice she presses her shoulders together as she leans into her arms, so that her boobs smush together a little, almost doubling in size. Double bitch! Dom keeps me pressed into him with his right hand as he reaches into his pocket with his left and withdraws two crisp hundred dollar bills. He places the money on the bar top and slides it toward the bitch as she licks her lips staring at the smooth, obviously wealthy, attractive guy standing in front of her.
“I’ll take three Heinekens, bottles... not draft, and two margaritas delivered to that table over there in the corner. Oh, and a beer for my friend here,” he nods toward Todd. “Keep the rest for yourself.”
Dom doesn’t wait for a response from the girl, but releases my hip and takes my hand instead, as he leads back toward our table. Halfway there and out of earshot from Todd, he turns to me, inching closer to my ear. For a second, I think he’ll kiss my neck again, giving me those wonderfully intense feelings once more.
But, instead, he whispers, “Well... you sure showed us, now didn’t you?”
Ugh. He lifts back his head and smirks at me while giving my hand a squeeze as we finish our way to the rest of our group. When we reach our seats, he pulls out my chair before taking his own. Theresa looks relieved and nods to Dom. Tony and Mike just stare at me. I swallow my pride and give them simple instruction.
“Not one word. Ever.”
The rest of the night is a blur. There are drinks. Lots of drinks and dancing. Theresa and I hit the dance floor hard. I remember catching up with a bunch of fellow grads, hugging our goodbye’s while toasting our futures. We all promise to “really” stay in touch, and I hope we can. I’m crushed to learn from Conrad that Steph had already come and gone, heading back to her hotel early because of a headache. Knowing her, it was more likely an alcohol-induced headache, even if her brother tries to make it sound more respectable.
Conrad and I make small talk for a while, but nothing remarkable. We agree to try and meet up for lunch in the city when he gets back from their family vacation to Tahiti. I don’t get to talk to him long before Dom comes out to the dance floor for a couple of songs. The Heinekens must have begun to kick in for him to hit a dance floor. He’s a really good dancer, but usually prefers to sit on the sidelines and keep Tony company. Tony wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in public. It would probably mess up his hair.
The night starts to rush around me as the cocktails take their full effect, before I finally give in and ask to be taken home. Although we must have taken the SUV back to hotel, I have no concept of it. The last thing I’m aware of is spilling out over my bed and commanding the room to stop spinning.
CHAPTER FIVE
Telephone ringing abruptly wakes me the next morning as I try my hardest to take stock of my surroundings. I’m fully dressed lying on one side of the bed in my hotel room, with Theresa out cold on the other side, closest to the ringing phone. The mere thought of moving to answer the call is enough to make me queazy. The best I would be able to muster will be to roll over and look at it as I moan in agony.
My throat is as dry as a desert and I seriously doubt I have the ability to speak due to my swollen tongue. Theresa looks to be on par with my own condition, but is somehow able to blindly reach for the table, searching for the phone with her fingertips. She brings the handle to her ear without lifting her head from the pillow.
“Uh... hel-hello? Umm hmm... OK. Please tell him we need half an hour. No. No food. Please... just coffee, orange juice, Alka Seltzer and Advil. Thank you.”
The phone doesn’t make it back to the charging dock, it simply falls to the floor. I surprise myself by actually being able to speak, however coarse my voice sounds. “Half an hour for what? And why do we need Alka Seltzer?,” I’m perplexed.
Theresa’s head is still buried into her pillow as she sheds some light on our sudden time frame. “We have to be ready to leave in a half hour. We’ve already slept in way later than we planned to. And the Alka Seltzer and OJ will be the only thing that will keep you from throwing up today. Trust me. I’ll go back to my room and shower. Meet me there when you’re done.”
OK. So, we have a plan. But neither of us moves. Five or so minutes passes before the knocking at the door gets us up and out of bed. The room service cart is wheeled in and left in place by a pretty twenty-something waitress. I take a ten dollar bill out of my wallet to tip her, but she politely refuses, explaining that it has already been taken care of.
As the door closes behind her, I can hear the tell-tale “plop, plop” and fizzing as Theresa drops the Alka Seltzer tabs straight into her glass of Orange Juice. She hands me an identical glass with the magic concoction before toasting her juice up with a half-hearted, “Bottom’s up.”
I shower and dress quickly while throwing my suitcase together, careful not to leave anything behind. After blow drying my hair I decide to cover my head with a cabby hat, and top the disguise off with my largest pair of aviator sunglasses. I won’t be able to fully hide my hangover, but at least I will protect my eyes from the mind-dulling daylight.
Pulling up the arm extension t
o my roll-along suitcase, I trail it behind me, grab my purse, and head to Theresa’s room. She’s almost ready, just putting the finishing touches to her pony tail. She hasn’t had time to dry her hair, but covers it up with a baseball cap. Eyeing my sunglasses, she looks like she’s had a small epiphany.
“Good idea!,” she exclaims as she searches for her designer shades.
We roll out of her room and I follow her lead down the corridor. It hurts my head to think, so I will just trust her judgement on navigation. We stop in front of the door to Dom’s hotel room before Theresa takes a big gulp of air and rasps her knuckles against the deep wood. The door opens and we disappear into it, knocking our suitcase slightly as we turn in.
I can feel the warm steam as I walk past the open bathroom door to my left. Theresa collapses dramatically onto the king-sized bed, no longer blocking my full view of the room. Oh my God. Kill me now.
Dom is holding his cell up to his ear with one hand as he towel dries his hair with the other. He must have very recently stepped out of that steamy shower, because his bare chest and shoulders still glisten with small beads of water, looking pink as if exposed to too warm of a temperature. His muscles flex and show defined shapes as he moves the towel around, sopping up the drops effortlessly.
His jeans are sitting low enough on his hips to expose the waistband of his underwear, and the clearly visible letters “Armani” stitched into the elastic. The lower muscles of his back twitch slightly as he moves to throw the dampened towel down after it has served its purpose. He finally speaks into the phone, causing me to blink and stir from my trance.
“They just got here. We’ll leave shortly and I’ll call you from the road. Relax... I told you, I will.”
He pulls the phone away, pressing a corner button and then tossing it onto a nearby chair. He takes in the sorry sight of his sister and me while I silently thank an un-named historical figure for inventing sunglasses.
“Well, if it isn’t Frick and Frack. I’m so grateful that you young-ins were able to show me how it’s done last night. I mean really, I just can’t keep up,” he boasts to us as I sway slightly with a short wave of hung-over vertigo.
Theresa is minorly passed out, half-hanging off the bed and doesn’t seem to have the energy to banter with her older brother, so she simply sighs loudly trying to appeal to his nurturing side.
“Dom, stop. I don’t feel good, so you can’t be a jackass to me right now.”
Dom laughs and walks directly up to me while touching my elbow, gently guiding me so that he can pass by. I feel as if he can see right through my dark glasses and read into my hidden eyes. Eyes that are still processing the skin and manicured chest hair directly in front of them. He licks his upper lip briefly before biting it just hard enough for it to blanch.
“And how do you feel? Cute hat...,” he smirks and walks passed me, not waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question.
It’s painfully obvious how I feel. Hungover. And he better not rub it in.
A young bell hop arrives just as Theresa’s magic hangover juice begins to react in my system, as I suddenly start to feel exponentially better. Hopefully she will find the same relief soon. Dom pulls a navy blue designer t-shirt on as he walks back out into the main room of his suite and collects his belongings before taking the time to assess his sister, still sprawled out like a hobo.
“Are you going to make it through a four hour car ride? I tried to let you girls sleep it off as long as I could,” he shakes his head. “Everyone else left over two hours ago.”
His eyes widen from some relevant thought.
“You’re not going to puke in my car, are you?”
Theresa gives an unconvincing “No... I’ll be fine,” to her brother and slowly gets up to head out the door. I shrug my shoulders at him and help my friend steady herself on her feet as we take baby steps out into the hallway.
I can feel Dom rolling his eyes in defeat, while conceding, “What am I gonna do with you two...?,” as he catches up to us and holds the door.
We split up when we reach the main foyer, with Dom heading toward the reception desk as I stay with Theresa near the overstuffed arm chairs so she can rest. I think it’s best not to try and make small talk with her at this point... she probably doesn’t feel much like conversation right now. Dom places a folded paper into his pocket and replaces his black Amex card into his wallet as he returns to us.
“Alright, kids. Let’s bounce.”
Our bags have already been loaded into the back of Dom’s black Range Rover, and Theresa calls dibs on the backseat so that she can lie down and sleep. Dom hands the valet what I can only assume is a pretty decent tip, judging from the young man’s expression as he closes both Theresa’s door and then mine.
Once settled in the driver’s seat, he chooses Theresa’s address in Manhattan from the GPS menu and takes a pair of sunglasses from the glove box. Sliding them on, he looks at me with a stupid look on his face. “Let’s roll.”
I laugh at his teenaged sense of humor. We keep quiet trying not to wake Theresa and I close my eyes, resting them, feeling the warm sunlight hitting my skin through the panoramic sunroof.
~*~
I quickly catch my head from dropping as my eyes fly open in shock. Placing my hands on the seat at either side of myself, I use them as leverage to squirm up from my slouched position. I had fallen asleep, but for how long? I feel really good and rejuvenated, but warm, as I struggle clumsily to take off my St. Bart’s pullover.
“Hey, sleepy-head... I was wondering when you were going to wake up and keep me company.”
I can hear him through the cotton covering my ears as I pull the broken-in sweatshirt over my head. Theresa is still asleep in the back seat, so I place my finger over my lips as I tell Dom to “Shhh...”
“She sleeps like a log. Always has. Nothing short of a bullhorn can wake her up now,” Dom watches me throw my shirt to the side and instinctively reaches for the temperature controls. “Are you warm? You were starting to sweat while you were sleeping.” He turns the AC up a little, “Better?”
“You were watching me sleep, huh?,” I chide back at him, adding a little “tsk, tsk” for emphasis. “You should be watching the road, not me.”
His eyes light up, recognizing the little game I am instigating. His lips crook and I know he will play along. “How could I not look? You were calling my name.”
“B.S.! I did not!,” I cry, and then look over to make sure my outburst doesn’t wake our sleeping beauty in the back. Just to be safe, I lower my volume. “I did not.”
I wasn’t exactly confident in my statement. I was daydreaming of Dom’s shirtless body shortly before nodding off. The warm sunlight was making me fantasize about lying on a beach, drifting off on the sand... and then it was only natural to think of Dom in a bathing suit on that same beach, and then....
“No, you didn’t. But you know you wanted to,” he winks at me through his tinted glasses. “We should cross over the GW in about forty-five minutes. We’ll drop Theresa off at her apartment first, and then head home. Your mom had your things sent over a few weeks ago, and set up a room for you. It looks nice. The last we heard from the contractors, you guys will be with us for at least three months. Maybe four.”
When Momma told me she was thinking of renovating the house, I never thought she’d actually go through with it. She’s spent years decorating to make the house just as she wanted it. Now, they are practically tearing the whole thing down and building up from scratch.
I’m sure John and Mary had offered for us to stay with them... but it can get crazy at their house with three kids running around all day. I’m glad mom didn’t arrange that. Tony and Cecily's house is out of the question. They are going to be having a baby in three months or so, and the last thing they need is a couple of house guests hoarding around. Mike lives in bachelor pad. ‘Nough said.
So, Aunt Rosie and Dom’s it is. Too bad Stephanie and I haven’t already found an apartment in t
he city. The timing would have been perfect and there is less of a chance that mom would shoot me down when I ask her to move out on my own if I was going to be displaced for a few months, anyway.
The highway signs for the bridge are becoming more frequent. Although I’d made this exact same trip countless times over and over during the last four years, it has an eerily-different feel this time. I know that this time it’s permanent... not just a visit. I’m thinking out loud without realizing it when I catch myself.
“Home sweet home.”
Dom looks happy to hear me say the words. He clears his throat nervously. “So... I promised John that I’d talk to you about taking on a role in the company, now that you’re home,” he tries to gauge my reaction to his comment before quickly continuing. “We all have something to do with it, V. It’s our legacy, and you are a shareholder. You need to be involved. Pick any department you want. We’ll set it up. You could work with John over in legal, or Theresa in H.R. Tony says there’s tons of room in accounting. I doubt you’d want to help Mike over in logistics, but even that would be OK. V...?”
I’d heard this speech a million times before. Make that a million and one now, thanks to Dom. I exhale loudly, not wanting to begin the same old diatribe, once again. Usually, it’s John or Momma on my case. Now... they were bringing in backup.
“Dom, I don’t know what I want to do. I’m not ready to take all of that on, right now. I’ve told John a hundred times that I want to get an internship somewhere else first. I don’t want to start a job at twenty-two years old, and know that that’s it for me. I want to get some real-world experience first, so I have something to offer the company when I decide to work with you guys.”
I have practically memorized the answer by now. It usually only keeps them at bay for a few months at a time before they start pestering me about it again. But, this time I would add a slightly different finale’.