Shine Your Love on Me (7 page)

“Nice.” A black leather sofa hugged one wall
with a black lacquer coffee table. The walls were white with three
original canvases painted in brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows.
There was a back door that led to a garden. Brooke was drawn to the
long bookcase covering most of one wall. “Shakespeare, Chaucer, The
Romantic Poets…hmm. Interesting collection.”

“Don’t forget the Norman Mailer, Hemingway,
Steinbeck, and Fitzgerald,” he said, bending down to let Buddy lick
his face.

“Quite a reader.”

“Every writer’s a reader. Besides, I was an
English major in college.”

“Really? You went to college?”

He made a face. “Of course.”

“One doesn’t think of a super needing a four
year degree.”

“It was temporary work. To get out of the
house.”

“Oh?”

“My parents live on the East Side. I needed
to be on my own.”

“I get it.”

He leashed Buddy. “Ready to go?”

“I don’t get a tour?”

“There’s not much to see. There’s the closet.
Around that corner is the bathroom and the bedroom.” He raised his
eyebrows. “You want to see my bedroom?”

She sensed heat in her face. “I mean, one
usually gets a tour…I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, by all means. Allow me.” He presented
his arm. “Let me escort you into my bedroom.”

Brooke slapped him playfully on the shoulder
and followed behind. The pugs had already checked out the bedroom
and returned to the tiny kitchen, sniffing the floor for scraps of
food.

The bedroom was also white, but the
queen-size bed dwarfed the small room. The color scheme was navy
blue and red. Brooke leaped onto the bed, bouncing up, and landing
with her head on his pillow.

Pres climbed up after her. “Never been so
easy to get a girl in my bed before.” He snickered.

“Why you!” She feigned anger, her mouth open,
her eyes wide, filled with laughter.

He took a chance and scooted over her,
trapping her legs between his, pinning her wrists to the bed with
his hands. Being confined and helpless was new for Brooke. At
first, she panicked then staring into his eyes, seeing his warm
expression, she relaxed. His gaze lingered on her mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, lowering
his lips to hers. When he released her, she smoothed her hands over
his shoulders. The kiss was brief, but sweet. His lips were soft
and gentle. A slight rasp from the stubble on his chin excited her.
“Come on,” he said, falling back away from her. “The dogs need to
go out.”

He rolled off the bed and offered his hand.
The three were at the door, waiting patiently.

As they headed for Central Park, the fresh,
June air caressed their faces while the sun warmed their backs.
They strolled along behind the pugs, who stopped to sniff and
play.

“I broke up with Lloyd.”

Pres glanced at her. “Oh? How come?”

“He’s sleeping with the client. I don’t
respect that, and I don’t share, either. Besides, when I saw him
cave to the president…well, I realized I didn’t love him. Probably
don’t even like him much.”

“Hmm. Does that mean a clear field for a new
guy?”

“You?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“No, John Alden. Of course, me.”

“Maybe. I’ve got to focus on getting a job
first.”

“Can’t be job hunting on Saturday night.” He
took her hand.

She smiled up at him. “S’pose not.”

“Let me take you out next Saturday.”

She looked up through her thick, dark lashes
at him and pursed her lips.
He’s handsome and nice. And not in
advertising. A trifecta? Why not?
“Okay.”

“Great!” He slung his arm around her waist
and pulled her into a bear hug. Freddy and Ginger started barking.
Pres stepped back. “Hey, I’m not hurting her, guys. Chill.” He
crouched down to pet them.

“Great little watchdogs.”

“Too good. Wonder what would’ve happened if
I’d kissed you?”

“Attack!” She laughed.

Pres took her hand again, and they did a loop
around the Great Lawn. When they stopped in front of The
Huntington, he lingered, making small talk. He cupped her cheek.
“’Til Saturday,” he said.

“Yep. Saturday.” He bent down and kissed her,
then, with Buddy in tow, he headed uptown.

A smile from Rocky kept Brooke’s spirits up.
When she reached the apartment, Nan’s guests had cleared out. Nan
was still cleaning up and putting away the dishes.

“Let me help.” Brooke unleashed the dogs and
joined her grandmother in the kitchen.

“It was great you brought the food, darling.
It was just enough. Thank you.”

“These are your friends from the senior
center?”

Nan nodded.

“They’re hilarious,” Brooke said, stacking up
three plates and returning them to the cabinet.

When she was finished, Nan took off her apron
and hung it up. As she was passing through the archway to the
living room, she stopped when Brooke spoke.

“I have some bad news, Nana.”

“Oh? You always call me that when there’s bad
news.”

“Sorry, yeah.”

“What is it?” Ruth leaned against the wall
and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I got fired on Friday.”

“What?” Ruth’s eyes widened. She took
Brooke’s arm and led her into the living room. “Come, tell me the
whole story.”

* * * *

On Monday morning, Brooke got up at the usual
time. After some yogurt and coffee, she turned on her computer.
“Time to job hunt,” she said aloud to herself. She spent the day
searching online, writing query letters and submitting résumés. Her
first stop was the friendly headhunter, Holly, who handles account
supervisor jobs in the industry.

After a brief conversation, Brooke sent in
her information. She kept up the routine until Thursday, when a
free concert in Central Park caught her eye. She rose early and
worked all day at finding employment. By five o’clock, she was
exhausted.

She’d already missed one concert in the Park,
so she grabbed a small afghan, made a peanut butter and jelly
sandwich, and trekked to The Great Lawn.
My reward for working
hard at getting a job.
The Great Lawn was mobbed with
classical-music-loving New Yorkers, but she found a spot and spread
her small blanket out. Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons,” a favorite of
Brooke’s, was on the program for the evening. She watched other
people as she ate.

There were many parties, consisting of
several couples or a bunch of single people. They had big blankets
spread out and passed around large bowls of impressive seafood or
chicken salads, Caesar salads, expensive bottles of wine, and tony
desserts. A wave of emptiness washed through her.
I guess this
is what they mean when they talk of feeling lonely in a
crowd.

Brooke crossed her legs and leaned back on
her wrists. She wore black workout pants and a bright pink tank
top. Her gaze searched for attractive men. She spied several, but
they were talking to pretty women.
Everyone is paired off except
me.
She wondered if anyone from Gibbon and Walters was at the
concert.
All probably still working.

She smiled to herself.
A benefit of being
unemployed.
The crowd quieted down when the conductor took his
place. The music mixed with the cooling night air to soothe her
frazzled nerves.
Enjoy this because soon you’ll be in a new job
and working a million hours of unpaid overtime.

Brooke lay down on the blanket. After
intermission, she fell asleep. The sound of applause woke her. She
rubbed her eyes, thankful for the darkness to cover her
embarrassment. People packed up and the lawn was thick with folks
leaving. Brooke finished the water she had brought. She sat and
watched others milling about, talking, lugging leftovers in
backpacks and picnic baskets.

She stretched her legs out before her, happy
she didn’t have to rush. Her mind wandered back to when she had
classical music in her life every day. She inherited her love of
classical music from her father. At bedtime, he played masterpieces
on a small upright in their tiny house. She’d lie in her bed,
picturing his fingers flying over the keys so expertly. It had
soothed her then, as it did now.

When the crowd thinned out, a familiar bark
drew her attention.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” came a
familiar, deep voice.

Brooke looked up into eyes shaded by the
night. “Pres?” A short woof from a pug answered as the tall man
folded himself down to share the small space on her blanket. “And
Buddy.” She petted the pug, who had plopped down next to her.

“He never waits for an invitation, no matter
how many times I tell him that’s rude.”

“Neither does his owner.”

“Oops. Pardon me.” As he moved to rise, she
put her hand on his arm.

“Just kidding. Stay.”

“Are you going to tell me to sit, too?”

She laughed.

“I didn’t know you like classical,” he
said.

“Never asked.”

“I figured an advertising woman would only
like something more, uh…recent. More current.”

“Figured wrong. I love all classical,
especially Vivaldi.”

“Me, too.”

“My dad used to play ‘Moonlight Sonata,’ ‘Fur
Elise,’ and other stuff on the piano for me.”

“I was dragged to The Little Orchestra
Society by my mother. I resisted, but I loved the music. Just
didn’t want Mom to know.”

“Are you close to your parents?” She picked a
dandelion washed in the moonlight and twirled it.

“Yes and no. They’d like me to live their
way, but I don’t want to. Can’t.”

She shot a sidelong glance at him. “What’s
their way?”

“Dad’s into investment banking. Mom does all
the politically correct charities. I hate that shit.”

“At least they’re alive.”

“I don’t hate
them
, just how they
live. I see them on major holidays. That’s enough.”

“Wish I had that.”

“You have Ruth.”

“She’s great. But my parents were…exceptional
people, in some ways.”

“Too bad about the accident.”

“Too bad they were stoned and driving.” A
note of bitterness crept into her tone.

“Guess you miss them.”

She sighed. No more tears left to cry after
so many years. Or were there? Her eyes watered. She took a deep
breath and stuffed the emotion back down into her chest.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to open old wounds.” Pres
slid his hand over hers.

A few rapid blinks saved Brooke the
embarrassment of breaking down in front of him, again. “It’s okay.
It’s been a long time. And I have Nan, you’re right about
that.”

“She’s been a great friend to me,” he
said.

“She’s a great friend to everyone, especially
to me. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“That’s why you see her every Sunday?”

“One reason. One of many. I need a dose of
Nan, after spending a week in the cold world of advertising.”

“I thought you loved what you do.”

“Some days. I’m good at it. I like that.
Being good at something. But the work isn’t fulfilling on one level
and some of the people are…selfish and cold.”

“Like your old boss?”

“Among others.”

“Don’t you have any advertising friends?”

“You don’t make friends in advertising. You
make contacts. People have to be useful. Good for something.”

“That’s cold.”

“Yep.” Brooke frowned. Having a few hours
away from obsessing about finding work or wondering whom Lloyd was
with had been wonderful.

“Sure brought you down, didn’t I?”

“It’s not you. It’s life.”

“How about an ice cream cone? You can’t be
depressed eating ice cream.” He stood up and offered her his hand.
“What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Mint Chip,” she said, tugging on his fingers
while she rose.

“Mine, too! What a coincidence.”

“Is there anyone who’s eaten mint chip who
doesn’t claim it as their favorite?”

“No sane person.”

Brooke laughed.

The bulk of the crowd had cleared out. Pres,
Brooke, and Buddy strolled along the shadowy path, inhaling the
fading scent of spring roses. She let go of Pres’s hand and wrapped
her arms around her middle as the night air turned cooler.

“Cold?” he asked. She nodded. Pres moved
closer, guiding Buddy to follow, and put his hand on her shoulder.
As he drew her in, she snaked her arm around his waist. The warmth
of his body removed the chill.

“Hot fudge,” he said.

“What?”

“Hot fudge sundae with mint chip ice
cream.”

“Oh my God. Orgasmic. Let’s go.” She yanked
on him and picked up the pace.

Within fifteen minutes, they were seated on
the front stoop of Pres’s building, digging into sundaes. Satisfied
sighs emanated from the couple. Buddy cast an expectant glance at
each in turn, hoping to steal a lick.

“No chocolate for you, Buddy. Chocolate is
bad for dogs,” Pres said. The light of the moon made his hair
shiny, while it cast deep shadows around his eyes. Brooke wished
she could see where he was looking. The heat from his thigh pressed
against hers kept her body warm. Their shoulders brushed, making
her aware of his presence in a tingly way.
Do I want to replace
Lloyd so soon? Don’t I miss him? I miss the sex, but maybe that’s
all it was.

She missed a drop of hot fudge. It dripped
from the plastic spoon onto her bottom lip. Before she could lick
it off, Pres’s tongue was there. He swiped the chocolate up then
circled back over. He smelled good, masculine with a hint of
aftershave. He tasted good. She wanted more. Brooke tilted her head
up for his kiss. There was nothing sweet or innocent about this
one. His tongue parted her lips and searched her mouth.

He closed his fingers on her waist, sliding
her closer. Her breasts touched his chest, igniting a tiny fire
inside her. He put down the empty cup and drew her harder against
him, his mouth claiming hers, his arms embracing her.