Charity's Warrior (4 page)

Another day just like they had all been lately. Actually, that's not true. Today I was in a much better mood, and I know why.

Justin.

I'm back in my room now, wrapped in comfortable clothes watching TV while sprawled across the king size bed. I am coming to a decision on tonight's great debate, room service for dinner and my vibrating bullet while I fantasize about Justin, or be the new me and go back to the bar to get the real thing.

What's to lose, I decide. My bullet will still be here if Justin isn't.

Money really is becoming an issue, so I skip the taxi and walk all the way to the bar, Manhattan Grill on Franklin Street. It was about eleven blocks from my hotel, and despite the sun having dipped below the tall buildings, it was a hot walk. I'd found the place through a Google search yesterday, needing something different than the places around my hotel. Inside, it's all red brick walls and dark wooden floors, mixed with modern tables and sleek lighting. It had a Chicago feel (not that I was ever in Chicago) that was a nice beak from the constant New York feel everywhere else.

I walk in and do a slow scan of the bar and the tables in the dining area, looking for Justin anywhere, in any corner. I didn't find him, he isn't here, but Trisha, the waitress from last night, is. She looks shocked to see me as she waves me over to a table.

"Oh my God, you got balls, Girl," she said. "I don't know if I could ever be so brave to come back like you."

I laughed, trying to hide the embarrassing little snort that had plagued me my entire life. "I don't know that I'm really brave—maybe crazy?" I said, as I sit at the table she gave me.

"You need a drink?" Trisha asks, batting those pretty, dark eyes of hers.

"God yes! Vodka and Red Bull." I check around the room again as I answer, hoping to find Justin in some small place I'd missed the first time.

"He's not here—
yet
," Trisha said.

I tried to look confused, but even I don't believe it.

Trisha smiles and winks. "Justin does come in a lot, maybe not every day, but if you stick around, he might come in."

"He's a friend of yours?" I ask.

"Now, yeah. Let me grab you a menu."

Trisha stepped away and left me hanging, wondering what she meant by that. What the hell had they been before—enemies? I had to know.

She is at the bar putting in my drink, and I see her grab a menu and head back toward me. Another table stopped her for a moment, and I thought my impatience might explode, but with a quick smile and nod, she was back on her way.

"What were you before?" I ask before she even hands me the menu. I could tell by the look on her face that she'd already forgotten where she'd left off. "You and Justin are friends
now
—what were you before?"

She let out a single, relieved laugh. "I'm not sure, actually," she answered. "We slept together, but it was only one incredibly, amazing time, so I wouldn't call us lovers."

"Incredible and amazing?" I ask, able to hear the eagerness in my own voice.

Trisha paused; her seductive Italian eyes looked around to see if anybody was within earshot. "Honest answer?"

"Yes!" I demanded. My pulse is thumping with interest now.

"He's the one I rate everyone else up against now. I screamed and then cried, and not in a bad way. I've never had an orgasm so strong that it made me cry before. But don't you dare tell him that!"

"I won't," I promised her. "Girl code, I get it."

We smile at each other, and then she excuses herself to check on her other tables. While she is gone, I have a hard time reading the menu with my eyes constantly glancing back up to the front windows looking for Justin. I want him so bad now that I can't stand it. Parts of me physically ache for service.

Drink in hand; Trisha comes back to my table. I blurt out the name of the last sandwich I had read on the menu. I have no idea what it is, but I got it done. As Trisha writes it down, I restart our conversation. "So, you two decided to be friends after that?"

"Hell no. After that I hated him for a while," Trisha answered.

I was confused to say the least. "Why?"

"To be that good in bed, it takes a lot of experience. Guys with that much experience are just to use to it, they don't settle down with just one girl. He was thinking a few nights of fun, and then friends with benefits, when I was thinking relationship."

"He just discarded you?" I asked, getting upset for her. Maybe this guy was too much of a prick.

"No, not at all!" Trisha replied. "He was never anything but honest. He was very open and respectful. It was me. I was the problem, but it took me a few weeks to see it and get over my pride. Justin is a great guy, he's just not a relationship guy—he's
broken
there."

Trisha was off again to put in my order and take care of her other tables, leaving me with all this new information. His extensive experience has me turned on, yet terrified at the same time because I don't know what I could offer him with my complete opposite lack of experience. As much as I want him, I don't think I could stand the embarrassment if he was disappointed.

Maybe I was just being a whiny bitch, and over thinking this.

If I got his cock in my hand—or mouth—I certainly knew what to do with it. There was nothing wrong with finally having a guy that knows what the hell to do with a woman's body.

I deserve it.

Trisha was unloading a tray of plates onto a tableful of guests, chatting and smiling with them. When the tray was empty, she flipped it down, holding it at her side. One more check with them that they had everything, one more smile, and then she was heading back to me.

"I want to tell you something," she started the second she got to my table, "not as a friend of Justin's, but as a woman. I can tell you're interested in him, and I saw the way he was looking at you last night. Justin doesn't mess around, so when he said he'd noticed you that means he's interested, too. Trust me; you need to go for it. All of us should have an experience like that at least once. Too many of us waste time just fantasizing and telling ourselves it doesn't happen in real life. But—and you need to listen to this—don't expect anything but great sex and a good time from him. Don't think about a relationship, don't read into his kindness."

I smiled, trying not to be embarrassed. Trisha smiled back and touched my arm lightly. I felt the connection with her; it was the first sign of friendship I'd gotten since coming to New York. Maybe that was another reason it hasn't been going well, just the weight of being lonely.

Whenever Trisha was not at my table, my eyes were on the door, every moment hoping Justin would come in. The drink I had ordered disappeared quickly, and its backup was now doing the same. I ate whatever the hell I'd ordered, and it was actually good, so that was probably my entire day's supply of luck blown right there. After a while I began to feel stupid for waiting, and I asked Trisha for the check.

As she handed me my change she said, "He rarely misses two days on a row."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Really," she said. "Since he wasn't in today, most likely he will be tomorrow. You should stop in."

"I might come in to say hi," I said sincerely. "You're the only person I've really talked to in weeks that wasn't holding my resume and judging me."

"Definitely, Girl. You have to come in then. I'm going to save my break until you get here, so you have to do it now," Trisha said, meaning it.

She was a sweetheart. There was no reason not to come, no other plans. I promised her and then left.

Over the eleven blocks back, I decided that I did have the courage to take Justin to bed, but that I also had the self-respect not to go searching and waiting on him like a fourteen-year-old. Tomorrow, as promised, I would go see Trisha. If Justin came in, maybe something would happen, if not—fuck 'em.

I made it back to my room, took a shower, and then took my pretend Justin for a drive around the king-sized bed.

TODAY WAS SO MUCH
like yesterday that it makes me sick. I had one very good prospect from handing in my resume in person. It got me back to Human Resources and a quick meeting with a manager that went out of his way to let me know he liked me for the slot. Unfortunately, they were on summer hours and the department manager that had the open position was gone for the day. He was going to set something up, hopefully for tomorrow, and let me know.

Trisha was more excited about it than I was, insisting we celebrate with a drink and a toast when her break started, which wasn't very long after I got there. She was timing our orders so we could eat together. My appetizer wasn't even finished when she joined me, both our plates in hand. And she had drinks for us to toast with, a small one for herself so that her manager didn't flip out.

Justin is not here. I couldn't help a little curious check of the room, but I was not disappointed by that, I was here for Trisha. Turns out she was looking too, but she told me it was a little early yet for him, and not to give up. We toasted to the day, to the prospect, and laughed about it. Talking to Trisha without her bouncing off every minute was even better, as I had figured. She is extremely genuine.

Last night I had noticed her more than the night before, which I think was understandable. She has nearly black hair and Italian, olive skin, and through her black pants and button up shirt uniform and white apron, you can see her cute curves that were similar to my own, although she didn't seemed conscious of them like I was. I had always pictured all the New York women as being built like twelve-year-old boys, tall supermodels, and I felt like I stood out poorly—even before I'd gotten to the city. It was good to see that wasn't entirely accurate, people were people everywhere.

To arrive earlier for Trisha's beak, I had come straight here without changing, so this morning I chose something a bit more casual, a herringbone double knit jacket over a mild yellow cotton shirt and black Zoe Trouser Leg pants. I believed I had pulled off a great business casual and was feeling confident all day from it, probably helped with the impromptu interview. And I could still picture it being eagerly ripped off my body by Justin's skilled hands.
Now that is versatile.

While we ate, I told Trisha all about life in Monroeville, Pennsylvania, and she told me about growing up in Hoboken. I talked about my ex, Steve Knowles, how he had wanted to get married, and I had called it off before it went too far. Trisha said she admired me for having the strength to do that and to go for what I wanted. Actually, she said she was jealous. She told me about her last relationship too, the guy she had dated after Justin.

That's when Justin came in, as if on cue, but it was nothing like I had wanted, what I had been fantasizing about.

He was not alone!

It hadn't crossed my mind he might come in with someone, although Trisha had given me enough background that I probably should have expected it.

Trisha tapped me softly on the shoulder, knowing it was a huge disappointment, and she got up grabbing our plates. "I gotta get back on the floor, just stay here, I'll bring you a new drink over in a minute," she said.

I am much more hurt than I should be, and I'm trying to figure out why. He owes me nothing. I have no claim on him, but my heart feels cracked, and the whole thing feels...
wrong!

The woman he is with is hanging on his arm like a crutch.
Bitch!
She has his attention, and that was great. I didn't want him to recognize me now, not like this. They went right to the bar and sat. I can't see them, which means they can't see me—perfect! I'd rather be unnoticed so I can slip out.

Trisha came over with my drink. "Well, she looks like a sure thing with that barely there skirt."

I laughed, almost dropping the glass as I took it from her.

She continued, "Seriously, she's just a one-nighter. She won't be around tomorrow."

"It's fine," I said, smiling, "it's not like he's cheating. He doesn't even know me, or owe me anything."

"Still," Trisha said.