“Wanna come up?” Rina asked, one hand on the door to her brownstone. Phoenix had swilled enough wine over the evening that he paused before uttering his customary, “Not tonight.”
“Come see my tree,” she said, interrupting his hesitation.
“Is that a euphemism for—?”
“No,” she said dryly, turning her key in the lock, “That’d be, I want to see your tree.”
“Very funny.” He put up a finger to indicate that his driver should wait for him, and then followed Rina.
“You’re the ad guy, but you seem to find me funny.”
“Always have,” he agreed.
They traversed a narrow hallway. Rina unlocked a beige door with a jangle of keys and led him into her apartment. The flicker of multi-colored holiday bulbs and electric candles in the street-facing windows lit the tiny living area. A wall of warm air met them. She flooded the room with light from a standing lamp, which reduced any chance for her décor to charm.
“That’s your Christmas tree?” he asked, not trying to hide the skepticism in his squint.
“Yup. The upstairs neighbors lent me their old artificial tree. Lights are theirs, too,” she explained, closing the door behind them and hanging her jacket up.
“Old is the operative word there. They doing you a favor, or are you doing them a favor?” he asked, looking around. The furnishings were spare. He shrugged out of his overcoat and handed it to her.
“What am I going to do? My stuff’s all in Canada. I’m lucky I got three suitcases on the plane,” she said, placing his coat onto a hanger and smoothing it with one hand, in a gesture both tender and possessive. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, what do you have?”
“Some of those first-class airline bottles.” She took the handful of steps to rummage around a kitchen drawer. “Will this do?” She held up a curvy green glass, a miniature version of a full-size liquor bottle.
“Crème de menthe? Sure, if we’re going to throw an ice cream social.”
She threw him a sour look.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a tour instead.”
“That should take all of two minutes,” she said, waving a hand around the narrow room. “Living room, dining room, kitchen combo. Manhattan special.”
“I’ll bet the place came furnished,” he noted. “Except for the tree, of course.”
“You betcha. Next, you’re going to tell me your tree is better than mine.”
“Euphemisms again.”
When she faced him, he bent towards her. Soft lips brushed his. She smelled earthy, like musk mingled with brown sugar.
“Okay, we won’t talk in code. Come with me.” She led him by the hand to the back of the apartment where a small room housed a bed, side table and closet. Streetlights shone through the bare window.
She let go of him to pad through the dark room and flip on a soft light next to her bed. She returned with a wrapped box. “Merry Christmas,” she said.
“I thought we already exchanged gifts.”
She touched a hand to the chain around her neck. “We have, and I absolutely love my gift. This is just a little something more.”
He tucked the parcel under his left elbow and loosened the tape at the edges.
“Want help with that?”
“No, thanks.” The offer irritated him. He tore at the surface one-handed. Then, the holly-covered paper ripped to reveal a logo. Rina blushed.
“Condoms? Is this a present for you?” He held up the box for inspection.
