Finally, she says, “Is that what the son went by? Dr.Thurgood?” She wants to know his name.
Peter taps out the ash, then takes another puff on the cigar. He looks amused. “Is this what dating a lover of antiques is like? Your mind always on rewind, one foot always stepping into the past?”
“Oh, are we dating, then?”
“I’d like to.”
“So, you’re not opposed to dating fortysomething-year-old women who use words like ‘marvelous’?” She can’t help the snark.
“Touché. That was incredibly rude of me, calling you out for using the word ‘marvelous.’ ” He grins. “I’m kidding. I do truly apologize. My mother, should I have had one for any real length of time, would have likely taught me not to mention a woman’s age.”
“Apology accepted.” It’s difficult to not soften with the thought of a motherless boy.
“I do want to date you, Vivian. At the moment, I have a crush like a schoolboy on you.”
“Oh, a schoolboy crush?”
“I think you’re incredible.”
“I think you don’t even know me.”
“Vivian Lawrence. Grew up in Chestnut Hill. Studied anthropology at UPenn. Graduated summa cum laude.”
“How do you know this?”
He puts down his cigar and walks toward her. “Lives at 62 Lime Street. Owner of Storied Antiques.”
Her face burns, and she wonders if he’s also sniffed out that her other store is soon closing. “How do you know all this?” she repeats.
He’s in front of her now, running his finger down her bare shoulder. It sends tingles through her arm. “We don’t just extend an invite to anyone at the Knox, Vivian. You can’t be surprised that we did a bit of a background check.”
“What I studied in college is part of a background check?”
“Well,thatMichael told me.”
She frowns, trying to remember what conversation she hadwith Michael over the years at the store that revealed that fact. But it’s hard to think because Peter’s touch is consuming her. And truth be told, she might not remember anyway.
“You’re so beautiful, Vivian.” He tugs her mask off her face, slowly, as if he’s undressing her whole. And then he kisses her.
Her whole body feels electric as she kisses him back. He tastes like martinis and cigars, but now she doesn’t mind the cigar smell. Now, she likes it, savors the smoky tang on her tongue. They push against each other, their desire hot and sudden, like the strike of a match.
Then, the door to the room abruptly swings open as a pair of entangled bodies collapse on the ground. It’s two men, fighting. Peter protectively pushes Vivian to the side, away from the commotion. She presses against the Chinese tapestry, which normally she wouldn’t dare touch without gloves. As the men thrash on the ground, Vivian can’t pull her eyes away. They are clawing each other like wild tigers. But one has the advantage, and something about the thick shape of his neck looks familiar. It’s the wrestler—Jerry. The waiter who served her and Peter tea. His face is as red as fire.
“You’re an asshole, Oliver!” Jerry yells as he pummels the other man.
Peter has turned oddly white, mute. He stands a few feet from Vivian, also pushed against the wall, like a piece of furniture. She feels strangely disappointed in him.
The door thrusts open again as Michael rushes in. Fittingly, he’s wearing a very proper black tailcoat that Vivian can almost imagine him in on a regular day. She’d been wondering when she would see him tonight. She certainly didn’t expect it to be under these circumstances.
Michael manages to pull Jerry off this Oliver fellow. It’s quite impressive. She didn’t think Michael had it in him.
“Asshole,” Jerry spits once more, as Oliver stands up and straightens his shirt. Oliver doesn’t look like he’s a fellow coworker but rather a member or a guest. A strung-out member or guest. Dirty-blond shoulder-length hair, an angular, chiseled face. A streak of blood trailing down his cheek. Gucci loafers beneath his Canali tux.
Why on earth would such a person be in a scuffle with the help?
Michael notices Vivian, and then his gaze travels to Peter. Vivian can’t interpret his expression.
“You’re so done, Jerry,” Oliver says with a slur. “I’m so done with you…but not as done as I am with your skank sister. Tara wasn’t even a good fuck.”
