Patty’s eyes had gotten that dangerous sparkle Curtis had learned to fear. “Well, you’re married to a lawyer. I guess you’re going to have front row seats.”
“Hey, don’t go dissing my girl. She’s sweet as can be.”
“Yes, when she’s not devouring unsuspecting wrongdoers alive.”
Patty smiled proudly. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
“As long as she’s on my side, yes.”
Patty threw her long black curls over her shoulder, even though they came bouncing back immediately, and laughed. After drying some tears from her heavily made-up eyes, she focused on him again. “All jokes aside, you got a delivery waiting for you in your office. Came in around nine via express. Just what were you up to this weekend, you naughty boy?”
Before Curtis could give her an answer, she bypassed him on her impossibly high stilettos, creating a familiar background sound that never failed to put Curtis in work mode. Driven by curiosity about her remark, he stepped into his office, where a huge vase with surely more than a dozen white roses stood on his desk. In front of the vase sat a bright yellow box with a familiar logo on it—Sweet Break. Curtis felt sweat gathering on his forehead. His heart hammered away like crazy, and hope flared in his chest. Yes, Andrew had behaved like a bastard, but he was a hot bastard with whom Curtis definitely had chemistry. Still, Curtis tried to stamp down that hope. It was probably just a coincidence. Somebody had wanted to send him flowers and added some sweets from Sweet Break. Yes, that was entirely possible. He approached his desk slowly, not sure what he was hoping for. Between the vase and the box sat an envelope. It wasn’t a fancy one made from thick, expensive paper but one that could be bought cheaply in any supermarket, and his name on it wasn’t done in elaborate ink letters but scribbled with a ballpoint pen. Somehow, that made it even more endearing in Curtis’s eyes. That hint of imperfection. His parents and most of the other people he knew from growing up wouldn’t be caught dead using somethingcheapandmundane. He took the envelope and opened it. There was a letter inside, together with two tickets for an exhibition at the PAMM, the Perez Art Museum Miami. Curtis read the letter first.
Dear Curtis,
I’m so sorry for the way I behaved on Friday. I know I made the worst possible impression and the only thing I can say in my defense is that you caught me on the hop, as the Britons say. (Yes, this reference is deliberate to increase my chances of you forgiving me, and yes, I did think about how to word this letter for a long time.) As you may have guessed, I’m not from a rich background, unlike you, which is my problem in a nutshell. I admit I felt intimidated by you, but as a friend of mine pointed out, that is my problem, not yours, and shouldn’t keep me from trying to have a relationship with somebody I felt an instant connection to. I’m not going to promise I’ll be a changed man from now on—we both are old enough to know these things don’t happen overnight—but I do wish to explore our chemistry and see where it leads us to.
If you think you can give me a second chance, we could go to the opening of the new exhibition of Haroon Mirza on Wednesday. If you can’t forgive—which I would understand—you can perhaps take Collin with you or give the tickets away.
Andrew
PS: The macarons are for you. If Collin wants more, he has to buy some. :-)
Curtis stared at the letter for quite some time. It was a lot more than he had expected and even though he was afraid things would go south again, he could hardly say no to a man who had pleaded his case so eloquently. Before he could think about it anymore and maybe lose his confidence, Curtis took out his cell to dial Andrew’s number, determined to see where things would lead.
Andrew answered after the second ring, almost as if he had been waiting for this call—or as if he had his cell nearby, just like everybody else. Curtis was a romantic at heart, but he was also old enough to know things were rarely as easy or nice as they seemed at first glance, just like Andrew had pointed out in his letter.
“Curtis?” Andrew sounded hesitant, as if he couldn’t believe Curtis was really calling.
“Yes, it’s me.” A moment of awkward silence stretched over the line. Just when Curtis got ready to break it, half willing to tell Andrew he was forgiven, but that Curtis didn’t want to take another chance with somebody who couldn’t even manage a simple phone call, Andrew started to speak.
“I…. Are you calling to tell me to back off or to listen to my apology?”
That was so sweetly blunt it had Curtis chuckling. “If I wanted you to back off, I wouldn’t have bothered calling. You would have gotten a pointed text.”
“Oh. Well, then I guess I better tell you what an idiot I am, and how sorry I am for blowing our first date. I was so happy when you agreed to go out with me and then incredibly nervous. You see, I haven’t been here long and outside of work, the only other acquaintance I’ve made beside you is Tim, another Dom who I met at Club Submission. I’m obviously looking for something permanent, and when I realized you were a sub—I couldn’t believe my luck. I admit, I wanted to go all Dom on you, sweep you away with my charming personality and firm but respectful demeanor.” Andrew chuckled, and Curtis realized he was trying to make a joke. A rather good one too. He laughed.
“If it helps, I did like your firm but respectful demeanor. About the charming personality I don’t know, because so far I’ve only seen glimpses. Those are promising, though.”
“I guess I earned that. Anyway, seeing my plans so completely thwarted was like a bucket of cold water. Things weren’t as I expected them to be, and I’m man enough to admit that I don’t deal well with surprises.”
Curtis grinned. “I saw that. And I like the flowers, the macarons, and the letter. Thank you for that and you’re forgiven. Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you I already have tickets for that opening. As a gallery owner, I get them automatically. I wouldn’t mind going there with a certain good-looking Dom at my arm.”
For a moment Andrew didn’t say a word. Then he started to laugh. “I should have known. Am I right in assuming you want me as arm candy?”
“I want you as my date. In a place where most people know me and will talk to me about business. For me, openings are work. Having you with me would make the work less tedious and afterward, we can go to a restaurant of your choosing.” Curtis knew it was risky. He had just spelled out for Andrew that going to the opening with him would probably be even more intimidating than ending up in a restaurant where Curtis was a regular. This time, Andrew was warned and now was his chance to back out. Curtis held his breath.
“I understand. I better dress up, then.”
Curtis inhaled deeply. “You don’t have to. The world of art is about carefully constructed individualism. You should be fine in jeans and a shirt. Maybe, if you feel extravagant, you could add a silk shawl or come barefoot. It’s all in the details.”
Andrew laughed. “I’m not coming barefoot. I have a nice pair of jeans and a few good shirts. You won’t be embarrassed by me, I promise.”
Even though the last sentence was said lightly, Curtis could hear the tension underneath. “Don’t worry. Once I start telling you the more outrageous stories about some of the participants, you’ll realize how absolutely upstanding and nonembarrassing you are. I want to go there with you because of who you are, because you had the guts to ask a complete stranger out, because you apologized even though you could have just filed our date away under disastrous mistakes. So no, I could never be embarrassed by you, Andrew. I’m not that shallow.”
A sigh of relief came through the line. “I didn’t think you were. But you were open with me about what to expect, so I thought a warning would be fair. I’m not bad with people, but I’m also not used to upper-class crowds. I’m going to be on my best behavior, and afterward, I’m going to take you to a diner.”
Curtis giggled. “Alternative program?”
