One Night In Amsterdam (15 page)

I waited for her to break the silence as I confined her soft green eyes with my gaze. I wanted her to say ‘yes’. But the longer she waited, I saw that she was getting more reluctant and I found myself utterly unable and impotent to do something.  Not even during my dreadful fights with my father had I felt this powerless. During her lingering silence, it didn’t matter that I was one of the most successful businessmen under thirty selected by Forbes Magazine or the part owner and the chief executive officer of Phliant Investments, one the nation’s top twenty ‘up and coming’ companies.  Neither the success of my company nor my personal achievements mattered while I was in front of this unpretentious woman, dressed in washed-out scrubs, with hair tucked into a pony tail and a pale, tired face.  I owned almost everything that money could buy, but Emma…she owned me, and she wasn’t even aware of it.

Finally, I couldn’t stand the tense silence anymore. “Come on, Emma. Please say something. I am not asking for a lot. How about just dinner?”

“I’ll be here till noon. Then, I will go home and sleep.  I have to be back at the hospital by eleven tomorrow night.”

“You still need to eat something.”

“Yes, but I never have time for a sit-down dinner. I usually eat something on the go, or munch from a vending machine.”

“I am fine with that. We can have our dinner on the go, we’ll grab a hotdog or a sandwich. Or if you can spare an hour, I could bring a take-out dinner to you.”

She thought a long second which seemed as long as an hour, and finally said. “You will not take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”

“See, you already know me!” I grinned heartedly.

“Okay, fine Dylan, you win. Dinner… my house… 8:00pm. You asked for an hour, I am giving you two.” She said, and her lips curved slightly, it was almost a smile. She took a pen from her pocket and jotted down her cell phone in my palm.

“Call me when you arrive. My doorbell is broken.”

“Where do you live?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?”

“Yes, Mr. 5th Avenue. Do you mind getting out of Manhattan?

“No, not at all.”

She wrote down her street name and number underneath her phone number and smiled playfully. “There you have it. All my information is in your hand now.”

“Yeah, literally.” I said.

“Now, you should go home and sleep. Also, don’t forget to fill your prescription. Start taking them right away. I don’t want to hear you coughing like that again.”

“Ten-four, doctor! I’ll see you tonight.”

“Night, Dylan!” She grinned and sauntered back to the ER, waving me goodbye.

It was pitch black outside when I left the hospital. It was a moonless, cloudy night. My mind was still so occupied with the events of the day that I didn’t want to take a cab back to my place right away. Any other night, I would have avoided the wet, muddy streets, but not tonight.  Tonight, the fresh rain smell in the air drew me in. New York City didn’t look gloomy or smothering, instead everywhere I looked, it sparkled. Resplendent icicles dangling on the roof tops, festive holiday decorations on the store windows and bright twinkling lights on trees turned the city into a winter wonderland. After spending many days in dejection, I just happened to notice the beautiful transformation of the Big Apple into the holiday season.

I walked idly on empty streets and thought about all that happened in the last few hours. When I got close to my apartment, I decided to take a stroll in Central Park instead of heading home. I lingered a bit in the park, watched the clouds move slowly, clearing the night sky. I didn’t want to go back home and face Max and his mocking questions.

I regretted letting Max move in with me almost every day. His three story penthouse, only a block way, was under some serious construction and renovation. The rich bastard wanted to have a private indoor pool, as if it was something he was going to use. His instant desire had nothing to do with swimming, he just had to have one after he saw Marcus Lawrence, CEO of KPC investment’s, new penthouse. So, right after we got back from Europe, the construction of his penthouse started, and instead of checking into a hotel and saving me all this grief, Max asked to stay with me. As his best friend, I couldn’t say no. Thinking back, I know now why I didn’t. I was so depressed and moody while searching for Emma that I thought having Max around would cheer me up a little. Unfortunately, as construction got delayed, his supposed-to-be-short stay got longer. After spending four months in the same apartment with the most selfish and arrogant man I knew, I was ready to kick him out.

I got back to my apartment just before dawn, hoping to find Max asleep.  I wasn’t ready to be interrogated about Emma.

When the elevator opened to the foyer of my living room, I heard voices in a language that I didn’t understand coming from inside. “What the hell...” I mumbled, wondering if I had a break in, although I knew it wasn’t possible. Russell, our old and faithful doorman, would never let anybody in without checking with the residents first, and only Max and I had elevator keys to the top floor.

The reality hit me quickly when I entered the room. In front of the tall bay windows overlooking the park, I saw Max with a tall blonde girl and a second one on the floor, getting herself ready to be next. His ass was half covered behind the white piano on the marble floor, however I could still see what was going on.

“What the fuck, Max!” I groused at him angrily.

He turned his head around just a little while he continued doing the blonde. “Hey, man…What’s up! I wasn’t expecting you to show up tonight.”

“I see that! Obviously!” I said, totally abhorred and disgusted.  I turned around and kept looking at the ceiling, waiting for him to stop while she kept moaning and speaking in a language that sounded like Russian.

“Max!” I shrieked to make him stop, but he was oblivious to my plea and he continued to slam into the girl hard, as though he was having a casual conversation. After a full minute of Max’s silence, the girl’s foreign chatter and various sex noises, Max moaned loudly. “Oh, fuck yes!”

“Are you done?” I yelled at him, completely frustrated. I was ready to punch him in the face and throw him out the door that minute.

“Yes!” He answered back, grinning annoyingly. He shoved the blonde to the side and put on his boxers. “Go to my room.” He ordered to the blonde girl and the second girl followed her, completely confused.

Even for him, he was acting like a complete asshole. He was irrational, not himself. Something was off with him. Then I saw three lines of white powder on top of the glass coffee table, right next to my Van Gogh book, ready to be snorted. Immediately I understood that he was high on coke.  “Can you explain to me now, what the hell is going on here?” I asked, pointing at the coffee table.

“I met the girls at Club V and we wanted to continue our party here- Larisa and her friend, Elena from Latvia. Where the hell is Latvia?”

“Max! Enough.” I yelled, frustrated with his nonsense talk.

“Stop yelling. You’re so loud…” He said, and covered his ears with his hands. “My head is about to explode.”

“Oh, God! You’re totally out of it. How much coke did you snort?”

“Just one line. I prepared a line for you too and also brought you a girl. You know… in case things didn’t go well with the doctor at the hospital, but she got bored waiting. I had to step in.” He smirked.

“How thoughtful of you!” I flamed up.  I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face with my fist but he was so delusional. I knew he wouldn’t even remember getting punched.

“Anything for my best buddy!” He said.

“Shut up and listen now. One… you cannot fuck your girls in my living room. two…you cannot do coke in my apartment. Period.”

“I was in the living room because you gave me a bedroom with no view and I prefer the view from this window. I’m jealous that you have a better view of Central Park than mine. The coke was their idea… not mine!” He said nonchalantly and raised his hand up. There was no point arguing with him.

“You know what Max… I’ve had enough. Today is your last day here. I want you to move out and check into a hotel tonight!” I said resolutely.

“What! Why? … We used to party like this all the time. What happened to you?  Let me guess, things didn’t work out with the doctor?”

“This has nothing to do with Emma.”

“So, why then?”

“Because I don’t like this… this fucking life anymore. I want more than sex with a random girl, getting high, throwing money at dumb chicks and parties. I am done. I want out! Sometimes, I feel like I am dying here. I want to sell everything… the business, the apartment, just go away and disappear. Maybe I should just do it.”

“Okay, chill out man. You can’t sell the business. I couldn’t stand anybody else running Phliant. If it bothers you that much, I’ll move out.”

“Yeah…That’s a good start.”

“Are you this pissed because of Emma?”

“No, just the opposite. She is giving me a chance and I don’t wanna screw it up. She can’t ever know about the life I had or all the shit we did. I want a new beginning. I want to win her heart and be with her.”

“You are full of shit, but whatever…If that’s what you want, I won’t stay in your way.”

“Good. Please do that.” I said determinedly.

And with that, I started a new chapter in my life.

CHAPTER 12

DYLAN

Past Manhattan’s vivid, eye-catching skyline, past the Brooklyn Bridge, through the quaint neighborhoods with many historical houses in Park Slope… I was in front of an old yellow house on Tenth Street at seven thirty. Even after I told Jeffrey, my kind, sixty year old driver to kill some time by driving around the block, we were still early. Given the fact that I had an infamous reputation for being late, arriving thirty minutes early for a date was unheard of for me. People are used to waiting for me, since I am a busy guy. Every minute of my time is precious, so I have seen it as acceptable, and totally normal to make them wait. I wouldn’t stand for it the other way around, except for Emma. Yesterday at the hospital was the first time I waited for someone for hours. Today I was trying to kill time again while taking a tour around the park, anxiously waiting for my watch to show eight o’clock.

“Let’s go around the block one more time.” I told Jeff after checking my watch. He was probably wondering what the hell was going on with me. I was overly stressed. The irritation and dithering in my voice probably showed it too.

At fifteen minutes to eight, Jeff parked the limousine in front of Emma’s house. I waited another minute by the stairs, however, her neighbors’ curious looks made me feel uneasy. I decided to just knock on her door. I climbed the stairs of her old fashioned Brooklyn house and noticed the hand written note by the doorbell. My grin got wider as I read her note.

“No luck with the bell. Still broken. Try knocking, but I probably I won’t hear it. If you are here to sell me something (except for the girl scouts), leave me a note! Girl Scouts: Sign me up for three boxes of thin mints.”

It was the cutest note one could put out for a broken door bell. That was my Emma. How can you not like a woman like that?

I dialed her number and leaned on the wall, staring at her delicate handwriting. After the third try, she finally answered her phone, “Hi, Emma. I am here. Outside your door.” I said.

“Oh, really. You’re early!” She answered, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, I know… We went around the block and then parked in front of your house. I was going to wait a bit longer but I think your neighbors are getting a bit suspicious of me. A guy, waiting outside with two big bags in the rain… I’m guessing it’s not a usual scene for this neighborhood.  I hope it’s okay if we start our dinner early.”

“Of course it is okay, Dylan. Why didn’t you just call me earlier?”

“You said eight o’clock. I didn’t want to bother you in case you were sleeping or resting. You had a long day yesterday.”

“You are silly. I wasn’t sleeping. I’ve been making us dinner. Soup, actually. It’s not ready yet, I am still working on it. Hold on a sec… I am coming right down.”

With that, I heard her footsteps approaching. She opened the door with a spoon in her hand and an apron around her waist. She looked lovely in her dark blue jeans and Columbia University t-shirt. Her auburn hair was tucked in a high pony tail, which made her neck stand out even more.

“No kidding. You really are cooking.” I said when I got inside and smelled the aroma coming from the kitchen. I handed her the flower bouquet.

“Jasmines again!” She said suspiciously.

“What can I say? They’ve become my favorite flower.”

“Oh, Dylan. You are not going to stop trying, I ...”

“So… what are you cooking?” I interrupted her, not letting her finish her sentence. I didn’t want to hear her explain how she was not ready for a relationship. She was probably going to come up with a bunch of excuses to stay away from me, but I was ready to rescind them all.

“Nothing too fancy. Just some tomato bisque.” She said and headed back to the kitchen and I followed her. In her tight t-shirt and jeans that cupped her body and defined her curves, she looked sexier than ever. I wanted to grab her tiny waist and kiss her right there, but I promised myself earlier that I’d take it easy and stay cool.