Naughty (29 page)

“Well, I think you should wait and talk to him first before you go to Mira with this.”

Naomi was right. “You have a point, but what if he hasn’t gotten over Mira jilting him and he’s trying to sabotage her company for revenge?”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit melodramatic? Have you called him at work?”

“No,” Kennedy said, suddenly feeling like she had jumped the gun. “He’s probably in the lab as we speak. Mira did say they’re working on an important project.” For the first time in hours, Kennedy began to calm down. “You’re right, I’m being a drama queen. Thanks, Naomi.”

“For what?”

“For pulling my reins. Girl, you know once I get on a tangent, I’m off and running before the race even starts.” Kennedy chuckled nervously, trying to make light of her paranoia.

“No problem; now get off the phone with me and call your man, so he can ease your mind.”

Kennedy’s pacing ceased as she calmly dialed Nigel’s work number.
I’m sure he has a reasonable explanation,
she thought as the phone rang.

“Good morning, FACEZ. How may I direct your call?”

“Nigel Charles, please.”

“Hold on. I’ll transfer you to the lab,” said the receptionist.

“FACEZ, Henry Bishop speaking,” said a strange voice. Usually when she called Nigel at work, he was alone in the lab.

“Hello, may I speak to Nigel Charles?”

“I’m sorry, but he’s out of the lab today.”

Kennedy began to pace again. “Do you know when he’ll return?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to say. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Uh,” she thought for a second, “no thank you.”

Kennedy slumped down on the bed in despair. Where was he? She held the phone and stared at the number pad. She was tempted to call Mira, but Naomi’s words of wisdom kept ringing in her ears. What if he had a reasonable explanation? Then she would look as if she didn’t trust him, and what was a relationship if it didn’t have trust?

BEING TRUE
to his word to Naomi that things would be different, Jacob cut back on the long hours, coming home at a reasonable time, instead of being the workaholic, absentee husband and father that he had been in the past. His tryst in London, though exhilarating beyond belief, was over and done with. The sex therapist he had been seeing was doing wonders in changing Jacob’s mindset toward his wife. He was glad that the sessions were working. He now realized that his family was much too precious to jeopardize for a few hours of carnal pleasure.

He was at work, trying to clear his desk of the myriad of papers, so that he could leave the office by five. He picked up the latest spreadsheet for FACEZ and was pleased to see that the quarterly financials were right on track. With any luck, the rollout for their new children’s line should be on schedule. He was up to his eyelids in financial projections for a new client when Charlotte buzzed the intercom.

“Mr. Reed, your wife is on the line.”

“Hey, honey, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Well, I don’t know how pleasant you’ll think this conversation will be once you hear what I have to say.” She spoke with attitude.

Jacob was caught off guard by her tone. He had been the dutiful husband as of late, and hoped that it had erased his neglectful past, but obviously Naomi wasn’t going to let the past stay in the past. “And why is that?” he asked, pretending like he didn’t have a clue where this conversation was headed.

“Jacob, you must think I’m a fool.”

“Why would I think that, honey?” he asked calmly.

“All of a sudden, you do a one-eighty, acting like you can’t keep your hands off of me, when not too long ago, I couldn’t get you to touch me. Don’t get me wrong, I love the new you, but I want—no—I
need
to know exactly what made you change.”

“Naomi, why are you getting yourself all worked up? I’ve cut back on my hours, and I’m spending more time at home. What more do you want?” Jacob asked, getting agitated. It was just like a woman to never be satisfied. When he was working long hours, she was complaining, and now that he was home, she wasn’t satisfied either.

“I want the truth. At first I thought it was work that was keeping you away, but lately my intuition has been telling me you’re seeing someone, or should I say you were seeing someone. Since you have all of this free time, I’m guessing that your affair, or whatever it was, is over.”

“Naomi, please stop with these irrational accusations. Are you hormonal this week?” he asked, trying to make light of her statement.

“No. I don’t have my period, if that’s what you mean!” She sounded pissed. “Anyway, I see I’m not going to get a straight answer out of you. I’m going to drop this for now, but like I told you before, I’m not stupid. If your work schedule and out-of-town trips suddenly increase again, then I’ll know that your lover is back on the scene,” she spat out, and hung up.

Jacob sat there dumbfounded. He knew it was coming, but he didn’t think that Naomi’s wrath would be this harsh. He was so glad that he had come to his senses before his wife had actual proof of his infidelities. He tried to put their conversation out of his head and went back to work. Twenty minutes later, his secretary buzzed again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reed, there’s a Mr. Davis on line one.”

“From?” he inquired.

“I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t say.”

“He wouldn’t say?” Jacob was a bit put off. Charlotte was usually extremely efficient, getting the necessary information from random callers. “Well, tell this Mr. Davis, whoever he is, that I’m in a meeting, and take a message,” he instructed and disconnected the line.

Jacob ran out for a quick lunch. Twenty minutes later he was back behind his desk, plowing through a mountain of work, when Charlotte buzzed again.

“Yes, Charlotte?” he asked, annoyed. He was right in the middle of finalizing the annual projections for FACEZ and didn’t want to be disturbed.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” she said timidly, picking up on his tone, “but Mr. Davis is calling again.”

“Well, tell him if he can’t disclose the nature of his business, then he can stop calling, because I don’t have time to entertain random callers,” Jacob said, ready to hang up.

“Wait a minute,” she raised her voice an octave, “he said to tell you ‘Remember Cinnamon.’ ”

At the mention of the redheaded vixen, Jacob’s heart skipped a few beats and his blood pressure shot up. He unloosened the knot in his tie, cleared his throat, and said, “Uh, send his call through.”

“Mr. Reed. Davis here,” said a gruff voice.

Jacob deepened his pitch and asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Davis?”

“Remember Cinnamon?”

“Excuse me.”

“Cinnamon. London. A romp in the sack,” he said in brief, fragmented sentences.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jacob lied. As far as he was concerned, that episode was a onetime occurrence that he chose not to revisit, especially with a stranger. “What company did you say you’re with?”

“I didn’t,” was his glib response. “But since you asked, I’m a private investigator, looking into the disappearance of Cinnamon.”

“And what makes you think I know the whereabouts of this China person?”

“Cinnamon. Her name is Cinnamon, and you were one of her last clients. She’s the most requested girl at Let Us Entertain You, and frankly, without her in rotation, sales have dipped. So you can see why the service is in a hurry to track her down,” he said, disclosing more information than Jacob cared to know.

“Look, mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you don’t mind, I’m late for an important meeting,” Jacob said, trying to end this unpleasant conversation.

“Actually I do mind. If you could just answer a few questions, it would be helpful. Like did she say anything about taking off for a while?” he asked, ignoring Jacob’s comment.

“I told you I don’t know any Cinnabun. Now I really have to go. Good-bye.” Jacob slammed down the receiver before the PI had a chance to ask any more questions.

His heart was racing so fast that he thought he would go into cardiac arrest any second. Jacob leaned back in his chair and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.
How the hell did he find me? After all, I paid her in cash,
he thought.

Thinking that he didn’t leave a paper trail, Jacob felt vindicated and breathed a welcome sigh of relief, which was short-lived. Suddenly that same breath caught in his throat, choking
him. “Oh, shit!” He nearly flipped out of his chair as he thought about the personal information that he gave the receptionist that had led directly to his door. Not only did he give the escort service his credit card number, he also gave them his driver’s license number, which was a surefire tracking device.

“Well, it’s not like I had anything to do with her disappearance,” Jacob reasoned. “She probably ran off with one of her johns, popping Ecstasy pills.”

He really didn’t care where she was, what she was doing, or whom she was doing it with; his only concern was steering clear of that nosy investigator. He prayed his dumb role was convincing, and had thrown the detective off the trail. “She’s a hooker with a gazillion johns. I’m sure he’ll be too busy investigating her many
clients
to come knocking on my door.”

Jacob couldn’t help but think about the conversation with his wife.
If Naomi ever finds out about this, my ass is toast!

NAOMI WAS
still fuming from her conversation with Jacob. She shouldn’t have been so worked up, since the end result—more sex, and him spending time at home—was exactly what she wanted, but she felt like she was getting her husband’s attention by default. She may not have found any evidence of him having an affair when she combed through his pockets, but that didn’t prove a thing. People who cheated were adept at hiding the evidence.
I’ll just have to keep a close eye on him,
she thought.

Though Naomi was at her volunteer job, she took the time to call Kennedy. Rio was in his office on a conference call, so she had used the opportunity to confront Jacob. She had planned to call him and talk about the seed money for her business, but the more she thought about his complete shift in attitude, the more suspicious she became, until she couldn’t control her anger any longer. Now that she had calmed down, it was time to find out the status of Kennedy’s situation with Nigel.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” she asked the moment Kennedy picked up.

“Hey,” she said, sounding depressed.

“Have you talked to your guy yet?”

“No. He still hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

“Did you call him at work?”

“Yeah, and somebody named Henry something answered the phone in the lab. He said Nigel wasn’t available, and he really didn’t offer up any other information. I called his cell phone several times after that, but his phone goes directly to voice mail. I don’t know if he’s out of town or what. This is so unlike Nigel, not to call me,” she said sadly.

“Don’t sound so sad, Ken, I’m sure he’s just busy with work,” Naomi said, trying to console her.

“Thanks, girl.”

“Kennedy, I hate to cut our conversation short. I’ve been on the phone all morning, and I need to finish cataloging these slides before the end of the day.”

“Okay, no problem. Thanks for lending your ear. I’ll talk to you later.”

Naomi hung up and delved into work. She played catch-up for the next few hours, and didn’t take the time to eat or drink anything. Her stomach began to growl, signaling lunchtime. She put the slides aside, got up, and knocked on Rio’s closed door.

“Come in,” he yelled from within.

She eased the door open. “You wanna get something to eat? I’m starving.” She rubbed her belly for emphasis.

“I’ve been on the phone all morning, and I’m starving like Marvin too. You want to go down to Kaminz?”

Chef Kaminsky Thomas had recently opened a café on the ground level of the museum that overlooked the elaborate Sculpture Garden. The menu was an abbreviated version of his ultraswank Tribeca location. “Sounds good to me.”

“Let me check my messages before we leave. I’m expecting an important call, and a few came through when I was on the
phone.” He picked up the receiver and dialed the code to his voice mail. “It won’t take long.”

Naomi walked back to her desk. Five minutes later, Rio came bouncing out of his office, all smiles.

Standing up and looking into his giddy face, Naomi asked, “What are you so happy about?”

“I just secured the last piece for the Jacob Lawrence exhibit. The collector is out of the country on business, but called and left a message that he’s going to sell us his painting. Come on”—he draped his arm through hers—“I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.”

The elevator was taking forever, so they took the winding white marble staircase instead. Showing no signs of the former dank and dreary Peace Corps armory, the museum had been gutted and renovated into a six-story modern marvel, with airy skylights and glass-block walls. As they made their way across the main gallery, Rio stopped.

“This is where the Lawrence exhibit will be hung,” he said, waving his arms toward the blank walls that were being primed with a fresh coat of museum-issue stark white paint.

“It’s going to be an awesome show.”

“Yes, it is,” he said, picking up the pace.

The aroma from the café greeted them long before they graced the threshold. Walking over to the cafeteria-style counter, they salivated at the gourmet entrées. Naomi selected a poached salmon and dill wrap, and Rio chose a blue cheese burger with sweet potato chips. After paying for their meals, they settled at one of the white ceramic tables.

Taking a huge bite out of his burger, Rio patted the edges of his mouth with a napkin and said, “Like I was saying upstairs, after months of negotiation, I will finally purchase the final painting that’ll complete the Lawrence exhibit.”

Naomi had cataloged the slides for the show a few weeks ago,
and didn’t notice any missing pieces. “I thought the series was complete,” Naomi said, savoring the delicious salmon wrap.