CHAPTER NINE
The dark brown chairs in my building’s lobby have to be real leather. They’re steps above my New York apartment. The whole building is a higher class than I've ever lived before. From the marble floor to the crown molding ceilings, I love every inch. The pay increase with my promotion allowed me to upgrade my living arrangements, and so far it’s worth every extra penny I pay to live here.
“Would you like me to call you a cab, Ms. Stevens?”
Did I mention the doorman? I swear I’ve fallen into apartment heaven. Who cares if the four-thousand-dollar rent is more than half my monthly take home pay. I have a doorman.
“No. I’m waiting for someone, but thank you.”
The greying man in his cute dark suit returns to his place by the door after a quick head nod in acknowledgment. The last time I saw Trey was the anniversary party Thursday night, but through a few quick texts, he’s invited me to hang out with him and Finn at their friend Cosmo’s place. I didn’t peg him as the early Sunday morning type, but hopefully Cosmo’s house has coffee.
A warm breeze cuts through the cooler lobby as the doorman pulls open the door from inside. I look up to watch the newcomer and am met with Trey’s stubble-covered jaw and black hair. His eyes are covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses, but I imagine they’re bright to match the smile his face carries. Dressed in jeans and a blue long-sleeve button down shirt with the collar open, he reminds me of the man I met on the beach.
He crosses the distance to me before I stand. “You’ll freeze in that.”
My happy expression shutters at his words. It’s a simple morning with friends so my jean shorts and short-sleeve t-shirt felt like the right choice at the time, but now he makes me regret the decision.
“I mean you look great in it, but mornings are cold here. Do you have a coat?”
His words take away some of the earlier sting, but not all of it. “Um, sure, upstairs. Somewhere, I haven’t unpacked it yet. It looks sunny out there. Is it that cold?” I question.
“It might look warm, but once you’re out there for a while it gets chilly even in the summer. It will warm up in the afternoon. You need a closet full of long sleeve shirts and parkas to live here. Doesn’t New York have seasons?”
I’m startled as he grabs my hand and turns toward the door. It isn’t the soft caress I enjoyed on vacation, but tighter. There’s something a little frantic about the way his hand reflexively holds on tighter when I try to pull away.
“Wait.” I stop Trey’s movement toward the door. “Let me go upstairs and get a jacket.”
He pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and I have a flash of the sweet Trey I remember. “Don’t worry. I have one in the trunk you can borrow, but I’m parked out front so we need to go.”
This time I allow him to pull me from the lobby. His eagerness to leave is now understood. The doorman, whose name I must learn, gives Trey a quick glance over and smiles at me before we walk out the door.
Parked, but idling in front of my building, sits a bright red Mazda Miata convertible with the top up. The scooped little two seater sits low to the ground and I duck to get in as Trey opens the passenger door for me.
I’m buckled in and ready to go before he reaches his side of the car after stopping in the small trunk. He hands me a dark blue fleece zip jacket that’s at least two sizes too big but waits for me to unbuckle and put it on before he places the car in drive. It's all a little bossy considering I didn’t catch the chill he talked about in our five-foot walk from the building to the car, but I don’t bring it up.
The ride is quiet and the silence starts to get to me before I search for any topic to talk about. “What made you pick the Miata?”
His head turns toward me with an upturned lip. “You know your cars?”
I laugh at the thought. “No, not really, but I’ve had more than one client in New York who made me do test drives with them. I swear I’ve ridden in every sports car from the thirty to eighty thousand price range in the city. This was always one of my favorites.”
“Yeah?” He pauses for a minute. “Is that something you do often?”
“Help clients buy cars? Yeah, at least one a month.”
“You get paid to drive around with rich guys and look at cars?” The disbelief in his voice spikes my attitude.
“No. I get paid to help negotiate a fair price for a client. After they’ve agreed to the deal, I supply all the financial documentation and finalize the transaction to help mediate any issues and guarantee a smooth process.”
“How many men have you worked for?”
“Excuse me?” My anger rockets up. If we weren’t moving, I’d open the door and get out. I’m quite sure he’s no longer talking about clients and I don’t like the way he’s worded it like I’m a hooker. Even I can’t look past his attitude this time. Maybe I need to rethink my master figure-out-Trey plan.
He sighs when I reach for the door handle as the car slows for a red light. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Don’t jump from a moving car. I'm not that bad, I promise.”
When I remove my hand from the door he continues, “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast so I stopped to get bagels, but fuck me, they have three hundred different kinds. And then after you pick the damn bagel, you pick a flavored cream cheese. What happened to plain? I don’t even know if you like your coffee black or with sugar.”
“One sugar.” I try to calm him, but he continues as if I haven’t spoken.
