Patrick frowned, mimicking a pouty face and walked over to stand in front of me. “Well, okay then, baby. That sounds good to me. The last thing I want is to rush you into anything. I’m just happy that you are here now,” Patrick said, and cupping my face in both of his hands, he planted a sweet kiss on my lips.
“Me too, baby,” I said, the tenderness of his kiss melted my rational thinking mind into a puddle of raw desire. Luckily, we had to get out of here fast, because a few more minutes of that kind of behavior might have made me change my mind about moving in.
Patrick helped me collect all of my suitcases and bags that I hadn’t even taken home to my apartment yet. We had come straight to Patrick’s place from the airport, wanting the magic of our time together in Paris to be extended one more day. Slinging my large shiny Coach bag over my shoulder, we headed to the elevator. We would share a cab, and swing by my apartment first, before he continued to his job. He was always taking care of me, always doing the gentlemanly thing. That was his nature. That was my Patrick.
Chapter 3
As Patrick and I exited the cab in front of my apartment building, I stood there momentarily waiting for the cab driver to hoist my luggage out of the trunk and onto the curb. I wondered in what condition I would find my apartment. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Andrea, my roommate, was a notorious slob, which annoyed me endlessly. She was always creating a monumental clutter, which I constantly had to remind her to clean up. The minute I cleared the counter space, she would find something of hers to put there, filling every available open space. It was like she had a narcissistic need to fill the room with her presence. Since I had never left her alone in the apartment for this long, I feared the worst, as we entered the elevator and punched the button for my floor.
She had better not embarrass me in front of Patrick.
Despite having to put up with Andrea and her mess, finding the place was a godsend. Back when I had first arrived in Manhattan, almost a year ago, I didn’t know anyone yet and not able to afford a place to myself, I diligently searched Craigslist for a suitable roommate to share an apartment. I came upon an ad from Andrea, who was looking to share her two-bedroom. After seeing the place, I was excited and knew it would be perfect for me. I loved the large, wood floor living room and the two bedrooms were a decent size, which is hard to find in the upper east side of Manhattan. The best part about my find was that the rent was only $1,200 each, almost unheard of in this part of town. What I never expected was the crazy behavior, elaborate lifestyle and the extreme messiness of my new roommate. She was from a rich family, a “daddy’s girl”, and had always gotten exactly what she wanted, a true “princess” in every sense of the word, dropping out of college, as if it were the fashionable thing to do, in order to pursue a career as a model. Despite ruffling daddy’s feathers, he didn’t cut her off completely and she still managed to secure a small allowance from him, most of which was spent on parties and clothes. Lord knows how she managed to pay her part of the rent with all of the social-activity information buzzing around in her head, like a constant Twitter feed, but thankfully, she did.
Secretly, I held my breath as we approached the apartment door, Patrick struggling to get my two suitcases out of the elevator and as I opened the door to my apartment, a noxious odor rose up to invade my nostrils, sending me reeling back with a wince.
“Geez, did something die in here?” Patrick asked, as he hurdled the two big suitcases over the threshold. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was this really my apartment? Strewn about the living room were clothes, open magazines, shoes lying where they had been kicked off, a crumpled blanket half fallen off the chair and one black stiletto high heel, precariously dangling from the top of the window, with the heel hooked over the curtain rod. I didn’t even want to know how that got there. The disaster scene continued as my eyes canvassed the entire room. Dirty plates were piled on the sofa and coffee table, and the open kitchen was filled to the brim with containers, festering with the remainder of Chinese fast food from, what looked like, weeks ago. I let out an audible, “Arrrgh!” as Andrea, my roommate, sauntered out of her bedroom to where we stood aghast. Wearing nothing but lacy panties and a thin short spaghetti-strap camisole top, she shoved a spoonful of Ben and Jerry’s, cookie dough ice-cream in her mouth, obviously, her choice for a breakfast of champions.
“Oh wow, you're back already, Chloe?” she said, flatly. “I didn’t expect you for another two weeks,” she continued, without showing the slightest guilt about the garbage dumpster state in which I had just found our apartment.
“I can see that.” I replied with annoyance, looking for the least repulsive piece of trash I was willing to touch, in order to make room to drop my purse and jacket from my arms. “Did a bomb go off in here...and what’s that nasty smell?” I asked, wrinkling up my nose. I cautiously picked up a crumpled McDonald’s carry out bag from the couch, and dangled it in front of her face. Poor Patrick, he was still hovering near the door, probably afraid to come in for fear of picking up a disease from all this mess.
“Duh, I was meaning to clean up before you got home, but you came early. You could have texted or something... give a girl a warning,” Andrea said, bewildered at my lack of consideration, completely unaware of any embarrassment she might have caused me, as she snatched the McDonald’s trash out of my hand and retreated to the kitchen area. Bending over the trash can, she gave everyone a view of her “Cheekies” underwear, the ones described in the catalogue as “a little panty with lots of cheek peek”, oblivious to the fact that there was anyone else in the room. I rolled my eyes as I realized Patrick just got an eye full and turning to see his reaction, he gave me a “two palms up” shrug. As soon as she finished and turned around, he dropped his hands to his side and went straight faced again.
“By the way, who’s your friend?” Andrea inquired, directing a smile at Patrick.
“Hey, there.” Patrick, put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “I’m Patrick, so... you must be Andrea. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, still sporting a shit-eating grin on his face from the “viewing”.
“
The
Patrick? Oh, but I thought you two....never mind. Very nice to meet you, Patrick,” Andrea said, with a flirtatious smile, as her “Cheekies” approached him, twitching up and down on her hips as she walked. She extended her hand and they shook briefly. I could see that this would be a good time to get Patrick out of here. This was entirely too much eye candy for a roommate to be providing, and for any boyfriend to be enjoying.
“Honey,” I said abruptly. “Thank you so much for helping me with my bags.” I furrowed my brow and shot an annoyed look towards my party crazy roommate, then turned back to Patrick, sweetly. “You don’t want to be late for your meeting.”
“Oh,” he said, seeming to come out of a trance and still with a stupid grin on his face. “Yes, I’m already running late. See you tonight then and you two roommates...don’t kill each other now,” Patrick said, with a wink for both of us and he turned to go. I followed him to the door and with a peck on my cheek, the face cheek that is, he quickly escaped out the door. Leaning out the door I gave a finger wave to the back of his head, as he strode down the hall to the elevator. As I stepped back inside the apartment, I nearly ran into Andrea, still standing in the same spot.
“Chloe,” she said wide eyed. “Oh my God, he’s really hot.” She spun around, heading for the couch. “So, you guys are back together? That’s so great. How did that happen?” she inquired rapid fire, barely giving me a chance to answer, as she flopped cross legged on the one available open space on the couch. Using her fingers as a comb, she tied her long blonde “morning hair” up into a knotted ponytail. Andrea was one of those girls who was always fiddling with her hair, tossing it back, raking it with her fingers, or something, as if stroking her own hair gave her as much pleasure as it did to Joe, Bob, Bill, or whoever she happened to be with at the moment.
“That’s a long story, but let’s just say, I’m very grateful that he came to Paris to get me,” I said with a smile, as I had no intention of going into more details about what had happened in that dark alley with Francisco. If only I could forget that I had ever met that sadistic asshole. I was embarrassed at how I had let myself get into such a dangerous situation with that man, all because I desperately wanted to show Patrick that I could find someone else, move on and live without him. Or, maybe I was trying to prove it to myself, either way, it was a hard lesson in life that I had learned.
Suddenly, I heard a loud thump coming from the bathroom.
Oh shit. Beauty Queen’s
got
company leftover from last night in there.
The bathroom door sprang open, and out walked the “Incredible Hulk”, a square-jawed, handsome, twenty-something guy, surrounded by a cloud of steam, wearing nothing but what looked like a tea towel against his massive bulk, around his waist. The guy was so adept at bodybuilding that he had to walk out sideways just to clear the frame of the bathroom door. My jaw dropped and I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Now it was my turn to have a stupid expression on my face.
“Oh, that’s Jim...John I mean,” Andrea said, casually waving a hand in his direction, in a weak attempt to introduce us. She turned her attention to one of the half open magazines laying in front of her on the coffee table and began flipping through the pages.
“And you are...” John inquired in a testosterone laden voice, as he walked towards me down the hall. I silently prayed he wouldn’t let go of that towel just to try to shake hands. Although I’m sure it would have been a nice sight, I wasn’t interested in seeing any guy’s “junk” other than Patrick’s.
“Very busy, and annoyed to come home to this,” I spouted out, trying to haul my two large bags towards my bedroom.
“Let me help you with those. So sorry for the mess. I didn’t even know Andrea had a roommate,” John said, still clutching the towel with one hand that barely stretched around his body. Grabbing a bag easily with one hand, he slung them into my room, one at a time.
“Sorry, John. I’m Chloe,” I replied, over the top of my luggage and stepped into my room as he finished. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” I continued as he stood outside my bedroom door in the hall. “Thanks, I guess...” I said sheepishly and he gave me a nod. I closed the door behind me, relieved that his towel hadn’t fallen loose and glad to finally be alone. I crashed on my bed exhausted, and grabbed my iPhone to text Elyse”:
“Hey girl, I’m finally back in town. Let’s do lunch today. xx”
She immediately text back:
“You got it, hun. Dying to hear all about it. Let’s meet at 1:00 at Rosie’s.”
Suddenly my lack of sleep from the jetlag caved in on me like a ton of bricks and I opted for a short nap before starting the Mt. Everest of laundry waiting for me.
Chapter 4
A harsh metallic sound repetitively drilled into my skull. Dazed and confused, I grabbed my head with both hands to make it stop, but it was only the ring of my phone, tunneling its way into my brain. I reached out and snatched it off the nightstand, groaning, as I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck.
“Hello...” I rasped in a hoarse voice. I could see from the screen it was Elyse.
“Hey, Chloe, I’m just gonna be ten minutes late. See you in a bit, okay?”
“Oh my God, what time is it? I fell asleep...” I rolled up enough to look around the room, trying to locate a clock in my stupor, and then sat up.
“It’s 12:30, she chirped. “Are you gonna make it?” I sensed a little angst in her voice. I couldn’t bail on her now. She wanted to hear all the juicy details of my Paris experience.
“Yeah, sure, sure, I’ll make it. Don’t worry. See you in a bit.” I flopped back on the bed exhaling an audible breath then jumped up and threw on a pair of white shorts and a purple, Pink from Victoria’s Secret, T-shirt. Thank God it was still summer and hot enough to wear shoes you can step into. I shoved my feet into my favorite cork heel wedgie sandals.
On my way to the bathroom, I notice that Andrea and John...or was it Jim, were nowhere to be seen. The place was still a mess, but at least they had cleaned up all the bags of the rank, rotting food. I splashed some water on my face trying to bring myself back to life and quickly applied a light sprinkling of face powder. A few short strokes of mascara and an assessment in the mirror revealed that everything looked good as I gave myself a quick quality control check. Grabbing the souvenir mug and tote bag I had brought back for Elyse, I exited the apartment in a whoosh, as the door clicked shut behind me.
Running fashionably five minutes late, I found Elyse already seated at an outside table, just like in Paris, sidewalk cafe style. Her face brightened as I slipped into the chair across from her,.
“There you are. I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it,” she said, rising up enough out of her seat to give me a hug.
“I’m sorry, I am so out of it today. Still suffering from jet lag,” I puffed out in a breath, as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Now I understand why some of those Japanese clients we had in the office last winter were all puffy eyed when they came to New York for meetings...but wait.” I paused, and reached down to retrieve the large Barney’s shopping bag that I had used to carry Elyse’s gift over. “Here, this is for you, from Paris.” Handing her a large paper shopping bag, her eyes lit up like sparklers on the Fourth of July.
“Oooo, Chloe,” she squealed, as she peered into its depth. “You didn’t have to...”
“It’s just a souvenir coffee mug...with a tote attached,” I said, with a nonchalant wave of my hand.
Pulling the sequin encrusted tote out of the paper shopping bag, she smiled and gushed, “Chloe, it’s beautiful. I love it!” Holding it up in the air in front of her, she admired the sparkle on the front, and then slung the straps over her shoulder, like she was taking it for a test drive.