Add Spice to Taste (12 page)

On
my advice, Brit had hired a professional baker to make a special cake, not something I was particularly good at. Give me a flame and I’ll whip you up a five-star meal; give me an icing kit and you’ll get something that looks like it came out of a do-it-yourself cake kit. A big box had been delivered earlier from The Cakery, one of the biggest names in the cake business, and I was dying to see what they’d created.

The one assistant who was still there
rolled a cart out with the masterpiece. On the bottom was a huge sheet cake covered in gold fondant brushed with glitter. On the center of the cake was another cake in the shape of a gigantic, but stylish, stiletto shoe. Around the shoe, on the sheet cake, were lit candles. Lana blew them out and everyone
oohed
and
aahed
and applauded appreciatively. Some jostled for a position to take photos before the student rolled the cart back into the kitchen to cut it up. That would be my assistant’s last job of the night.

While we waited for the cake to be served, the DJ played some ambient music
and I took the opportunity to spend some personal time with Julianna. I took her by the hand and led her down the corridor. I didn’t know what was back there and I wasn’t in the habit of wandering through people’s homes uninvited, but I just needed to spend a few minutes alone with her.

A short way up the hallway, past
a horde of people, we found what I took to be a library. It had floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with actual books. I wondered if any of them had been read in the past twenty years.

We sat down on a long leather sectional sofa and lingered quietly, holding hands. The break from the crowd was a relief.

“What do you suppose she paid for that cake?” Julianna asked.

I snorted. “A lot.”

“Did you meet their parents?”

“No
.”

“Neither did I. I don’t think they’re here. I think I heard someone say that they’re away somewhere.
Vietnam or something.”

I pondered th
at and wondered if that was why the entire burden of the party plans had fallen on Brit.

“We’re probably missing the cake,”
Julianna said.

“Do you care?”

“Not really.”

“Me either.” I found Julianna’s neck to be much more appealing, and I paid attention to it with my lips.
I pulled away long enough to admire the low cut of the dress and the way the spaghetti straps rested on her smooth, toned shoulders. “You’re really beautiful in this dress.”

“Thanks.” She pecked me on the lower lip in appreciation.

“What made you bring it?”

She giggled. “I was hoping we’d get invited to the party. I’ve never been to a
n Upper West Side soiree before.”

“
Me either,” I replied. But we were too busy enjoying each other’s kisses at the moment.

After a while, the music changed over to techno and I figured people were done with the cake and were now dancing.

“Come on,” she said, pulling me up by the hand. “Let’s go dance.”

It seeme
d that as the night wore on, the crowd got denser and denser. Where had all these people come from? The party of forty had turned into a party of one hundred, easy.

The screwdriver was hitting me hard, even though I’d only had one. The bartender had made strong drinks. My head began to swim a little, as the music and lights swirled around me.

The apartment began to take on the air of a club. People were spread out everywhere, including the hallway leading to the back rooms, where many pressed themselves up against the walls. Outside the bathrooms, guests were lined up. I had a sudden flashback to Saturday nights at the Palladium in my clubbing days.

“Listen, go back in. I need to pee,” I said, gently pushing
Julianna ahead.

“Okay.” She happily continued down the hall until I lost her in the throng.

The déjà vu continued when I got on at the end of the shortest line. Although I was no longer wearing my chef jacket, some of the guests recognized me and chatted.

“H
ey, you’re the chef,” one woman said.

“Y
eah, that’s me.”

“That salmon was unfuckingbelievable.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean, that shit’s the best.”

Having someone refer to my food as “shit” didn’t sound quite right but I appreciated the sentiment. “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She was one of Lana’s friends, anyway. Had to be.

A pressure on my arm made me turn around, and then I was b
eing pulled off the line. Brit was leading me away. “Um, Brit,” I said, shouting over the strains of techno music. “I have to use the bathroom.”

She turned her head partway, just so I could hear her. “I know.” She ushered me past all the people patiently waiting in line, farther back into the maze of rooms.
Down the impossibly long hallway, there were a number of doors open to various rooms: a lounge, the library, and an entertainment room. A young couple came out of a closed door, hair disheveled and cheeks flushed, which led me to believe that the closed doors were bedrooms. Finally, we arrived at another closed door. She pulled me in and from the chic, yet playful décor of red and black geometric patterns, it was clear that this was her bedroom.

Brit
pulled me through the room until we were on the far side. “Here,” she said as she opened a door. “Use my bathroom. You shouldn’t have to wait in line with everyone else. You worked really hard and you deserve a break.” Her eyes sparkled. “Besides, you’re my special guest.”

“Uh, okay.”

Her bathroom was so swanky that I had a hard time believing it was actually a bathroom. Again, it was done in red and black and textured wallpaper. A clear glass enclosure showed a shower with such a complicated-looking fixture that I wondered if it was a shower or a medieval torture device. The whole thing could have served as a cryogenic chamber. The edge of the red bathtub held three glass candle cups, half burned down. Yes, Brit was definitely a bubble bath with scented candles kind of gal.

It was like being in a hote
l. If I had a hard time cooking in that kitchen, how was I going to pee here? But as soon as I took one look at the toilet, hidden in its own private alcove, the urge to pee surpassed my reservations. I trotted in clumsily, shut the door, and did what I had to do. The ultra-powered, almost silent flush distracted me from my hand-washing only briefly, and then I walked out, stumbling a bit.

Brit was waitin
g for me right outside the door so that as soon as I put my foot over the threshold, she pulled me aside, pushed me up against the wall, and kissed me.

After
a frustratingly long dry spell, the sudden abundance of sexual attention was intoxicating. I hadn’t realized how starved for attention I’d been. Julianna was feeding me but I was being offered dessert, like those people out in the living room enjoying beautiful cake after a meal. Michael’s warning rang in my head, and I didn’t want to be this woman’s conquest, another notch on her bedpost. For a second, while my brain was pickled in vodka, I thought, why the hell not? I’d spent eight years being a dutiful, faithful girlfriend—why shouldn’t I play a little?

Julianna, that’s why.

I wasn’t in
the relationship for very long—and even this early on, it felt like a relationship
—
but I wanted to be in it for a long time. Gently, I pushed Brit away. “I can’t. Sorry.”

Brit was not having that. “Why not? Miss
Perky Yoga Girl out there?” She moved close again. “Listen, I’m not looking to take you away from her. I just want a little fun. I promise, it’ll be fun for you, too.” She brought her hands around my neck and glued her lips to mine. I reached up and removed her hands.

“I’m sure it would be. I have no doubt
, in fact.” I was sure that the sweat on my forehead and the quivering of my hands would betray my weakness. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t. So please stop.”

Brit took three steps back and
focused on me for a moment. She didn’t seem angry, but I’d learned a long time ago that how a woman looks and what she’s really feeling could be a universe apart. I thought that maybe I should run because I was about to get something thrown at me.

Instead
of pitching something at my head or cursing me out, she reached up behind her neck with both hands and untied the strings of her dress. She brought her hands down slowly, bringing the strings with them, until the entire front of her dress was hanging down. In the smoothest move I’d ever seen, she stuck her thumbs into the elastic waistband and pushed down. I don’t know why I was surprised that she had no underwear on.

Just as I knew
they would be, her breasts were perfectly shaped and sitting where they should, unlike mine, which needed the kind of help that’s required with age, and her red hair hung beguilingly down over them. Her body was trim and fit and glowing with the color, health, and softness that she no doubt had paid a shitload for. Definitely a healthy young woman.

Stunned, I stood dumb
, but definitely not blind.

Then, s
he was close to me again, pressing herself against me, and lifted a leg so that her crotch pressed into my thigh. “She never has to know,” she murmured into my ear as she began unbuttoning my shirt. Her breath carried notes of Champagne.

W
ords were lodged in the back of my vodka-soaked throat and I had to swallow really hard before I was finally able to croak out what I had to say.

“Brit, you are
a very attractive woman. But I really have to stop you.” The skin on her waist felt so warm and soft under my hands as I pushed her away yet again that my resolve began to waver. “Please.”

I slipped past her and quickly left the room.
Looking back was not an option, because if I caught sight of her standing there naked, I wasn’t sure I would stay strong. As I made my way back down the hall, party guests were wandering around, peeking in rooms, glancing at the art on the walls or pictures on the tables.

When I got back into the living room, I looked around for Julianna, who was talking with, of all people, Michael.
As if I were drowning and she were a lifesaver, I made my way toward her with desperation. When I finally reached her, I felt that I could exhale. I was safe.

I
put my hand on her back, and she turned around. “Hey, did you find the bathroom all right?”

Even though I hadn’t done anything, I suddenly felt guilty. “Yeah
, uh, I found several bathrooms and there were lines for all of them.” I glanced at Michael, who was looking at me strangely, as if studying me. His gaze seemed to penetrate me and I felt at that moment that he could read my mind.

Julianna
’s expression darkened. “Hey, are you okay?”

I assumed she had noticed the pellets of sweat that had broken out across my forehead and upper lip
and were running down my face.
I should just slink away like the snake I am
. “It just got really hot in here. I guess it’s all these people. You know, body heat.”

Her face brightened again, and she surveyed the room.
“Yeah, where did all these people come from?”

“Part of Brit’s social circle,” Michael answered. “This is how it always is. Brit will say that she’s having a party for
twenty or fifty or a hundred people, and it turns into fifty or a hundred or two hundred people.” He smirked. “I always feel bad for the caterer,” he added, pointedly looking at me. “But she always gives a bonus.” My glare couldn’t have been more obvious. All he did, though, was smile wider. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go say hello to someone,” he said.

He
turned to leave us, but not before throwing me a wink. But it wasn’t the snippy kind of wink
I would’ve expected. It was the kind one person gives another to reassure them in a questionable situation.

Despite the enormity of the room, it began closing in on me. The heat became so intense that I couldn’t breathe. M
y head felt like it was in a vise and was being squeezed tighter and tighter, and my stomach roiled. I had to get out of that room. I made for the terrace, saying over my shoulder to Julianna, “I’ll be right back.”

The night had actually cooled off a bit
and I sucked in a big gulp of air. It was still hot, though, and I was tired. I glanced at my watch. How had it gotten to be one a.m.? The lounge chairs were all taken up with guests who had passed out, some holding more than one person. A couple of partiers had stripped and were frolicking in the pool. At least, that’s how I wanted to think of it because I didn’t want to know what they were actually doing. I turned to the right, where the semblance of a separation had been made by a brick arch covered in ivy. On the other side, the atmosphere was different. It was like a peaceful garden, with potted plants, a small cherub fountain, and quietly growing ivy. Two tall bonsai trees stood sentinel on either side of another set of French doors, these opening up from the dining room. No one else was there, oddly, so I breathed in deeply and exhaled as I walked over to the edge, on this side a chest-high brick wall, feeling the anxiety slowly leave my body.