I Love My Hope (Nicole's Erotic Romance) (5 page)

“Jack
now, is it? Fine. Call me Jack, but I’m going to call you Ms. Henry because
that’s just who I am. Ms. Henry, I have a show running now as you can see.
And one after it.
But there is a two-week window in between
and I plan to squeeze you into it, to see how you’ll do. People love a sense of
immediacy as well, so the short time frame might just do wonders for creating
‘buzz.’ It will be around two months from now, enough time for me to announce
you, and for you to get ready. That is, if you think that’s enough time?”

The smile
that spreads out from my belly is the biggest I’ve felt in years. With massive
enthusiasm, I nod and pick up the contract. “That’s more than enough time!
Thank you!”

My joy is
infectious, as joy always is, and he smiles back at me, immensely pleased with
himself. “I so rarely give someone their first break. Seeing your reaction
makes me think I should do it more often. Take that home with you and give it a
good reading. Then we’ll meet again. And please take your coffee, too. You haven’t
had a sip. It’s too good to waste.”

I grab it
apologetically and stand up. “Yes, of course. Thank you for the coffee, too.”

He
laughs. “Get ahold of yourself. You’ve earned this.”

I smile
and nod, turn away.

“Ms.
Henry?” He calls after me.

I look
over my shoulder, my hand on the railing. “Yes?”

All humor
is gone from his eyes. I let go and turn to face him. He folds his hands on his
chest and leans back in his chair, frowning. “I would not have given you this
chance just because Michael Benitez asked for a meeting. He’s a brilliant
artist, and a friend, but this is my gallery and I am very picky about who I
put on these walls.” I nod. “You have gotten this show on your own merit. Do
you understand?”

The tears
jump up, dancing in my eyes. I breathe in, nod once, causing a tear to roll off
my cheek. I don’t hide it. I’m not afraid of my emotions anymore.

“Thank
you for telling me that.”

He
doesn’t answer. It’s understood between both of us that the gift he just gave
me was more than an art showing. That gift will pass with memories and time. He
gave me something greater, something that will never go away. He gave me my
dignity.

Saturday
Night

In The
Middle of Fashion Week

Amber and
I are in the East Village, hoping Jessica will be able to join us after work.
Her emotional state has gone from too low to too high, in Amber’s opinion, and
we want to have a talk with her. I’m backing up Amber, because well, she’s
Amber. If Amber thinks it’s
pow
wow time, who am I to argue?

We’ve
texted Jess, but there’s no answer.

“She’s
probably on the subway since it went straight to voicemail.”

“What if
she’s working still? She probably has parties to go to tonight.”

Amber
sighs. “Well, maybe she has to go home to change?”

Amber’s
really got her lockjaw on this plan. “Okay. What are we going to tell her? ‘We
want you to take a deep breath and stop banging your co-workers?’”

Amber
says, “Yes. That is what we’re going to tell her,” as if it’s the most obvious
thing in the world and not ludicrous at all.

I turn to
the bar. “Can I have a chardonnay, please? Do you have a good one?”

The
bartender – a Jamaican looking dude who keeps giving me the eye –
nods like he’s got dirty things on his mind. “What about you?”

“Same
thing is fine, thanks,” Amber answers, thinking he was talking to her. He
wasn’t. But it does the trick of sending him on his way.
 

“That was
hilarious.”

Amber,
not hearing me, turns and announces, “Did you know she banged some guy off the
Internet she’d never even met?”

My eyes
go huge. “She
what
?!
”

Amber nods
slowly several times. “Can you believe it?”

I shake
my head, but secretly I’m impressed. “Who was he?”

Amber
waves it off as unimportant. “Some guy visiting from the west coast… San
Francisco? Who knows? That’s not the point. The point is that she is freaking
me out and I think between the both of us talking, she’ll listen.”

The
bartender returns and sets our wine down. He gives me a slimy smile but Amber
chucks her card on the counter so hard and fast that it looks like she’s
cock-blocking him. He takes it and leaves, dejected. Having no idea she saved
me, she pulls her hair up into a ponytail, talking as she does it. “You think
I’m being too controlling, don’t you?”

Nail…
meet Head.

“No,
you’re just looking out for your girlfriend,” I lie.

Amber
holds her glass to mine and says, “To girlfriends.”

“To
girlfriends.” We both take a sip and set the glasses down. “Amber, I hate to
tell you this, but I have a lot of sex, myself. Are you going to give me an
intervention soon, too?”

She rolls
her eyes. “Stop bragging. Jeez.”

“Wait.
How is it bragging when I do it, but bad when Jessica does? You’re not making
any sense.”

Her phone
buzzes on the counter. We both look at it. It’s Jess. Amber picks it up and
texts back. While typing on her phone, she tells me, “She’s coming. Get ready.”

I steel
myself. “Great. This is going to be a blast.”

She
shoots a look at me and sets the phone down. “You don’t like relationships, so
having sex the way you have it – you know, with guys who respect you and
like you and where there’s an understanding… well, that’s different than what
she’s doing.”

I cross
my legs and adjust the fabric of my dress so it doesn’t wrinkle under the
weight of my butt. “Amber, I just think maybe you’re jealous because Josh isn’t
giving you the sausage.”

“The what
??!!
” She crinkles her nose and laughs.

I smile,
my elbow on the counter, glass held loosely in my floating hand. “I’m trying to
be funny so I don’t strangle you.”

She
frowns. “Am I really that difficult?”

And this
is where I have to bend. When you’re hitting this close to home, joke over.
It’s either time to have a real conversation or it’s time to shut the hell up
and be kind. I am choosing the latter. This is not called lying, under these
circumstances. It’s called
compassion
.

“No,
you’re not difficult at all.”

Amber
looks to the door, primed. “Oh good. I didn’t think I was difficult.”

I glance
to the door, suspense rising as we wait. Leaning over, I ask, “So… what’s the
plan?”

Her eyes
never leave the door. “I’m going to come right out and say,
we’re afraid you’ve lost your way
.”

This hits
me to my core.

“
Oooh
, this is going to go deep.”

Amber,
still looking at the door, whispers, “To having the courage to say what needs
to be said.”

We both
drink much larger gulps this time. Then I say, “Why are we whispering?”

But she
doesn’t have time to answer because in walks Jess holding hands with a handsome
man neither of us has ever seen before. This is not James. We know James.

Amber
sits up straight, confused. “Whose hand is she holding? Is that the guy from
San Francisco?”

“I have
no idea, but can you say
wow
? They
look so cute together.”

She
shoots me a look and I shut up. But it’s true. Jess and this guy are balanced
energy. He smiles at us on his approach, but it’s clear he only has eyes for
our redheaded friend, who’s calm and peaceful as she greets us. The way they
stand together is as if they’ve always been together. Amber and I are extremely
interested and curious, and when I say
interested
and curious
, I mean
shocked as hell.

“Guys,
this is Chris. Chris, these are my best friends, Amber and Nicole.”

Chris
asks her, “What do you drink?”

She
smiles up at him and says, “Chopin. Rocks. Two limes, please. Thank you.”

He
reaches out to touch her hand before he leaves.

Amber,
for once, has no idea of what to say, so blurts out, “What is going on, what’s
that fucking bruise on your cheek, and who is that guy
?!
”

Amber
stares with her mouth wide open.

 
Jess touches her bruise. “Oh, I almost
forgot about this. I got punched by a model named Misty.”

Amber and
I both blow up. “What
??!!
”

“It’s a
long story. Chris is someone I met just recently, but…” She looks off in his
direction. “I have a feeling he’s going to be around for awhile. I’ll tell you
all about it when we’re alone. But guys, something more important has happened.
Well, I don’t know about
more
important… but it’s pretty freakin’ huge. I’ve decided what I want to do with
my life!”

We both
gasp.

“I don’t
know if you noticed, but I’ve been flailing about for awhile.”

“We
noticed.”

Jess laughs
because we said that together. “Yeah, well… you don’t have to worry about me
anymore.”

I lean
back and scoff, waving my hand like she’s being ridiculous. “Who said we were
worried?”

Amber
blurts out, “We were very worried.”

Jess hugs
her and says, “I know. I know you guys better than you think I do.”

Amber
pulls away. “Wait. Is Chris the guy from San Francisco?”

Jess’s
face falls a little. “No. Chris lives here. I could never date someone long
distance after what happened with David. But that guy was amazing. I guess it
just wasn’t meant to be.”

I shake
my head fast like a dog out of a bath, throw up my hands, and announce, “I’ve
always said I have psychic abilities, but let me just say it right now. I
don’t! I did NOT see this coming! In fact, life has been surprising me left and
right!”

“Here you
go,” Chris says, as he returns and hands Jess her cocktail.

Jess lifts
her glass. “To surprises!”

The four
of us bring them in together and clink. “To surprises!”

_______________

As the
night goes on, Chris completely wins us over. He seems to just
get it
, and he fits right in like he’s
always been a part of the group. He’s a great listener
;
adding things when he has something interesting to add, keeping quiet when he
doesn’t. He finds our interactions funny, and he watches us with a smile on his
face. He even appreciates the story of how the bartender got my number last
night, and wishes me well on my date next Friday.

Truth? I
was really excited about that date until I saw these two. There’s something
about when two people fit. It makes it obvious when two people don’t. And sure,
I don’t know Sexy Bartender yet (that’s the name I’ve given him since I don’t
know his name) but I didn’t think,
this
is the guy
when I met him. I thought,
wow,
this guy has some courage
.
And I like
his facial hair.

Which is
cool, but it’s not even close to the same.

Amber,
though, gets quieter and quieter as the night progresses. At one point, I
follow her into the bathroom to ask, “You okay?”

“I’m
fine.”

“You’re
lying to me right now.”

She
shrugs behind a sad smile. “Let’s just be happy for Jess tonight. It’s great to
see her doing to so well, you know? I don’t want to spoil it with my boring
problems.”

I tilt my
head and narrow my eyes, not sure what I should do. She walks out the door, doesn’t
give me a chance to argue. Maybe she’s right and we should just celebrate
tonight. But there’s a feeling in my gut that says something is rotten, and she
is not okay.

Friday Night

An Apple For An Apple…

My phone
goes off and it’s a text from Sexy Bartender. How am I going to ask him what
his name is? This is awkward. We’ve texted several times throughout the week,
and it got a little heated, yet still I haven’t found a way to ask, “What is
your freaking name?”

On Sunday
Morning

Sexy Bartender:
Looking forward to Friday.
 

Me: Me
too. Where are we going?

Sexy
Bartender: Wherever you want to go. No limits necessary

Me: I
like the sound of that.

On
Tuesday Afternoon

Sexy
Bartender: Had a dream about you.

Me: Oh?

Sexy
Bartender: Oh yeah.

Me: It’s
3:00 p.m.