All through dinner, all I could think about was how I just wanted to be alone with The Waiter. But Dana and Simon were flying out tomorrow morning, and I wasn’t going to bail on them, even though Dana would have totally understood. Plus, the anticipation was delicious. The way he would lean in close every time he said something to me. The sensation of his breath on my neck. His hand on my knee. Every touch. Every look. Everything felt as if it were happening for the first time all over again.
After dinner, we found the perfect spot to watch the parade on the corner of West 9th Street and Sixth Avenue, right across from the Jefferson Market Library and in the shadow of a huge black spooky spider that was hanging down from the building’s clock tower. The eight of us, all quite jovial from too many margaritas, packed in with the rest of the crowd and cheered on the giant puppets and costumed paraders. But the best thing about the parade wasn’t the costumes or the floats or the music. It was experiencing it with all of my friends, and with The Waiter.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said as he buried his face in my hair. I wanted him more at this very moment than I did the first night we were together after De la Guarda.
We stayed at the parade for a couple of hours. Then Dana said she wanted to see Josh’s karaoke skills in action.
“Let’s go to Winnie’s,” Josh suggested.
“In Chinatown?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah. Bayard and Baxter.”
My libido would have to remain in check for at least another hour or two. We maneuvered through the crowd and over to the 6 train at Broadway and 8th.
The MTA on my daily commute to work is interesting enough. On the weekends, it’s what I would call entertaining. On Halloween night, it’s a freak show. Half the people were dressed in costumes, although I wouldn’t really describe them as “dressed” at all. If this year’s Halloween had a theme, apparently it was ass chaps.
We got to Winnie’s and headed straight for the bar. “Don’t order the Hawaiian Punch,” The Waiter said, “unless you wanna wake up on the floor.”
“I wanna wake up next to you,” I replied.
“That can be arranged.”
Josh began handing out drinks to everyone.
“What is this?”
“Hawaiian Punch,” he replied. The Waiter and I both laughed. Josh took his drink and went up to start his first karaoke song - Elton John’s “I Guess That’s Why They Call it The Blues.” It was a special request from Dana.
“Man, this song reminds me of Friday night football games,” I said to her. “And freezing our asses off in our skimpy majorette uniforms.”
“You guys were majorettes in high school?” Kyle asked.
“We were.”
Katie was intrigued. “Do you remember any of your routines?”
Dana and I looked at each other. “Proud Mary.”
“Proud Mary?” Lucy said. “You twirled a baton to Tina Turner?”
“Well, it was in Georgia, so it was more like the Credence Clearwater Revival version.”
“And it was just a dance,” Dana added. “The band played it during games and pep rallies, and the majorettes and cheerleaders would do this silly little routine.”
Lucy grabbed the karaoke song book. She started flipping through. “If that song is in here, you bitches are dancing.”
“No!” I screamed. “I am not anywhere near drunk enough to do that!”
“Oh, you’re doing it,” The Waiter said. “Drink your punch baby.”
Lucy looked up from the book. “It’s here.”
“Let’s do it!” Dana was game.
“Katie and I will sing,” Lucy said. “You two will be our backup dancers.”
Josh finished his song and Lucy and Katie dragged Dana and me to the front. Then she grabbed the mic and spoke to the crowd.
“So, our friend Dana is visiting from Georgia and she and Sammy here made the mistake of telling me they remember their high school dance routine. Now they gotta prove it.”
The bar patrons clapped and yelled and started a rhythmic clapping to the song as Lucy and Katie sang and Dana and I danced. We remembered every move. When the song was over, we received a big round of applause and even an “Encore! Encore!”
As I was walking back to the bar, I tripped and fell right into The Waiter.
“Okay, you’re cut off,” he said as he steadied me on my feet.
“And I was worried about embarrassing myself dancing. Dancing I can do. Walking, not so much.”
“I love you,” he said laughing. And because he was laughing when he said it, I thought nothing of it.
“You love that I made a complete fool of myself for your entertainment.”
He pulled me close. “I love how you are with your friends. I love that you smile at random people on the subway for no reason. I love the way you blushed that first day when Josh told me you were single. I love all of it, Red. I love you.”
People in the bar were still clapping and cheering, but the noise faded into the background. I looked up at The Waiter. He was serious. I felt like everything was happening in slow motion. Everything except my heart rate. I don’t even think I was breathing. But I managed to say it.
“I love you too.”
He leaned down and kissed me.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “My place.”
I turned to Dana and Simon. “We’re gonna call it a night if that’s okay with you guys.”
“Us too,” Dana replied. “We have an early flight tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll share a cab,” The Waiter said.
Josh, Katie, Lucy and Kyle decided to stay for one more drink. We all hugged goodbye and then the four of us left and flagged down a cab. The Waiter sat up front with the driver and Dana, Simon and I climbed into the back seat. Dana and I rehashed the evening and she promised to send me copies of all the photos she’d taken this weekend. Occasionally, The Waiter would look over his shoulder at me in the back seat and smile. A knowing smile, as if the two of us had a secret that nobody else knew. And we did.
He’d said those three little words. He loved me.
And I loved him, too.
CHAPTER 25
◆◆◆
“You got laid last night.”
It was the first thing George said to me when I walked into the office.
“What are you talking about?” How the hell did he know that I did, indeed, get laid last night? And twice this morning.
“You got laid. I can tell. You look different.”
“That’s because I’m still recovering from the Halloween party, George.”
“No, it’s not. Oh god. You got back with that beast, didn’t you?”
I smiled at him. “No, George, I did not get back with Dalton. I’m gonna go make myself a much-needed cappuccino. Can I make one for you as well?”
“Much-needed because you were up all night getting laid. I’ll go with you and you can tell me everything.”
George followed me to my desk as I put my things down and then we headed to the kitchen. You would never know there was a party here in the office on Saturday night, aside from all the leftover Halloween candy.
“So, what’s with the glow? Did you sleep with a celebrity or something?”
I laughed. And then I told him the whole story about The Waiter.
“I need to meet him. Let’s get together one night this week after rehearsal.”
“Oh, that’s right! You start rehearsals today. Are you excited?”
“Yes. There are two incredibly hot guys in the cast and I plan on hooking up with both of them.”
“At the same time?”
“If the opportunity should present itself.”
We took our cappuccinos with freshly frothed foam back to our desks just as Jackie was walking in with a fresh bouquet of flowers.
“Sammy got laid last night,” George informed her.
“Good for you, Sammy,” she said with a hi-five and a smile. “So did I.” She sashayed righ
t into her office and began arranging the flowers in a vase. George and I looked at each other.
“Legend,” George said.
“Total legend.”
I sat down at my desk and logged on to my iMac. I started to check my email, but my mind was elsewhere. And by elsewhere, I mean still in bed with The Waiter. I could feel my face morphing into a ridiculous grin as I remembered every detail.
After we said goodbye to Dana and Simon at the hotel, we walked hand-in-hand down Broadway the three blocks to his apartment. The last time I’d been here was in the daytime, and I remember thinking that the Ansonia looked like a castle. Now, at midnight, all lit up, it was even more romantic.
“I love your building,” I said as we walked through the marbled floor lobby to the open elevator.
“It used to be a sex club.”
“What?”
“Yeah. The basement used to be Plato’s Retreat.”
“Wow. If these walls could talk.”
The elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor and The Waiter took my hand.
“Let’s give ‘em something new to talk about,” he said. When he opened the door to his apartment, I was shocked at how different it looked at night. I was greeted by the most beautiful view of the Upper West Side through the two large windows that faced his bed, which was directly to the left of the entrance. He didn’t even bother turning on the light. He just kissed me. It was passionate and deep and all-consuming. It was also long overdue. I’d missed him so much. I took off my leather jacket as he was kissing me and threw it on the floor. He lifted my sweater over my head. Then he took off his shirt and sat down on the side of the bed. He pulled me over until I was standing right in front of him. He put his hands on my waist and kissed my stomach.
“Still tickles,” I said as I ran my fingers through his hair. He unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. I stepped out of them. He pulled me onto the bed and positioned himself on top of me. Then he started kissing my neck.
“Oh my god I’ve missed that smell,” he said.
“My perfume or my sweat?”
“Both.” He sat up with his knees on either side of my hips, exposing his insanely sculpted six-pack. “In fact, I missed the smell of you so much that I went to Macy’s and sniffed every Gucci perfume until I found the one you wear.”
“You did not.”
“I can prove it,” he said. He reached over to the side table and opened the drawer. I ran my hand down his left side just so I could feel his muscles. I couldn’t decide which was sexier. The view of The Waiter sitting on top of me without his shirt on or the view of the San Remo through the window behind him. From the drawer, he pulled out two boxes. One was a box of condoms. “We’ll definitely be needing these,” he said. The other was a box of Gucci Rush.
“Wow, the big one. That’s not cheap. The salesperson must have seen you coming from a mile away.”
“Yeah. I just told her I wanted to buy perfume for my girlfriend and that I knew it was Gucci but wasn’t sure which one.” He sat the box over on the table. “I guess you can have this now.”
I smiled up at him. “So, I’m your girlfriend?”
“You want me to prove that too?”
“I think you better.”
And prove it he did. The sex was on a different level than last time. Slower. More intimate. More intense. Honestly, I could have orgasmed just on the smell of his hair alone if I’d had to. But I didn’t. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, looking out the window at the city that had been watching us voyeuristically the whole time.
When the alarm went off at six, I leaned over him and hit the snooze. He pulled me over on top of him.
“You can’t go,” he said. “It’s still dark outside.”
“I have to go home and shower and get ready for work.”
“One more hour,” he pleaded. I couldn’t say no. His groggy morning voice was just too sexy. So I stayed for one more hour and two happy endings. For both of us. When I got up to put my clothes on, The Waiter grabbed my wrist.
“Oh my god! Did I do that to you last night?” He was referring to the bruise on my arm.
“No, you didn’t.” I wasn’t going to lie to him about its origins.
“Do I even have to ask?” He sat up in the bed and took a closer look at my arm.
“No, you don’t.”
“I will fucking kill him.”
“He’s not worth it, and that’s beyond over. And not to make excuses or anything, but that was the first - and the last - time he ever left a mark on me.”
“It was definitely the last,” The Waiter said. Then he kissed my arm and just held me for a minute. Afterwards, I left and took a cab back to my apartment and got ready for work.
And now I sit here, trying to do just that. Work. The phone on my desk started ringing. I answered.
“We need to talk.” It was Dalton. Suddenly, I was jolted out of my decadent daydream and back in my never-ending nightmare.
“I can’t talk. I’m at work.”
“Meet me downstairs right now or I’m coming up.”
Mother-fucker.
“You can’t be near my building, Dalton. Meet me at the Starbucks on the corner.” I figured at least I’d be surrounded by other people there.
“Fine,” he said and hung up.
I grabbed my bag and pretended to be talking on my cell phone as I headed towards the elevator. I didn’t want George to ask where I was going or offer to go with me. When I walked into Starbucks, Dalton was sitting at the counter by the window, almost in the exact same spot The Waiter had sat when I’d had my job interview. That made me even angrier.
“What the actual fuck, Dalton?”
“Sit down, Sam,” he said. I didn’t.
“Say what you’ve gotta say and then I’m going back to work.”
“Where are you living?”
“Why do you care?”
“Are you living with him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“If my girlfriend is shacking up with another guy, then yeah, it’s my business.”
“I’m not your girlfriend anymore. You wanted me out, remember?’
“You know I didn’t mean that.” He reached for my hand.
“Don’t even think about touching me.”
“I know you’re pissed, Sam. But I fucking moved here for you. I did all of this for you. Can’t we just work it out?”
“No, we can’t. Now leave me alone. I mean it, Dalton.” I turned around and left him sitting there.
“You know you’ll come back,” he said as I walked away. “You always do.”
I didn’t even bother to look back at him. Not this time, asshole. Not this time.
CHAPTER 26
◆◆◆
On Saturday, The Waiter and I were assembling the entire IKEA catalogue in my living room. Well, maybe not the entire catalogue, but judging from the number of boxes strewn across the floor, it certainly looked that way.
Josh had taken yesterday off so he and The Waiter could move the rest of his things over to Katie’s. The Door Store delivered my convertible futon and platform bed this morning, and luckily, they both came with full assembly. That left The Waiter and me to set up the entertainment center, office area, and the additional closet storage I desperately needed in the bedroom.
We’d just finished putting together a pair of Billy bookcases and a Fakturist desk. They fit perfectly into the alcove space in my living room. My office was done. Now it was time to move on to the closet.
“I’m guessing this closet unit is the first thing you ordered,” The Waiter said as he sat on the floor unpacking all the boxes labeled “PAX.”
“No, the futon was first.” I sat down on my new platform bed. “Followed by this.”
He looked over at me. “How’s that mattress feel?”
“Good. Firm.”
“Maybe we should give it a test drive,” he said.
“I don’t even have sheets on it
yet.”
He crawled over to me. “Then I guess we don’t have to worry about messing them up.”
“You know, we just had sex like five hours ago at your apartment.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that this will have to be a quickie. We’re meeting everyone for dinner at eight and we still have a shitload of IKEA to put together.”
“I love a good quickie,” he said, crawling on top of me and sliding me back onto the naked mattress. “Plus, we owe it to the bed, you know. It deserves a proper breaking in.”
The quickie turned into a longie. Afterwards we were starving. We got dressed and walked across the street to Tom’s Pizza and ordered slices. Then we came back to the apartment and finished my closet.
“What’s left?” The Waiter asked.
“Just the curtains and the wine rack.” I’d purchased long red Merete curtains to hang behind the futon in the living room to separate it from the kitchen. And I’d found a wooden wine rack at the cutest store down in the East Village called Surprise! Surprise!
“Both can wait until tomorrow,” I said.
“Nah, let’s do it now. I’m going to Nick’s gym in the Bronx tomorrow before work.”
“How is Nick?”
“He’s good. Why don’t you come with me and say hello? We’ll put you in the ring.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously. Come with me. I’d love it. Don’t you take boxing classes at your gym?”
“Yeah, kickboxing. Not real boxing.”
“Come. I promise you’ll have fun.”
“What time? I’m having brunch with the girls at one.”
“Around nine. You’ll have plenty of time.”
“Okay. I guess I’m going to the Bronx.”
By six-thirty, The Waiter had hung the curtains and installed the wine rack above the refrigerator. My apartment was officially furnished. I took a bottle of champagne out of the fridge and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet.
“Here,” I said, handing the bottle to The Waiter. “Open this. Now I have to make it official.”
“Didn’t we do that earlier?” He opened the champagne as I placed a final framed photo on my new entertainment center. It was the one of all of us at Luna Park the night we went to see De La Guarda.
The Waiter Page 14