The Girl and the Genie (24 page)

He pulled a white terry cloth bathrobe off a hook and held it open for Emily to slip on. She wasn’t sure of the reason for this, but she played along, first putting down her champagne glass, then allowing him to put the robe on her. She nearly disappeared inside of it. The robe had such a nice softness and richness to it that she didn’t mind at all having it on.

Grinning at her, Derek led her out of the bathroom and back through the master bedroom to a door on the other side of the room which opened up to a large outdoor patio. They walked to one side of it and looked out over the city views. The cold air bit into Emily’s cheeks, but she didn’t mind. It felt magical up here.

“A pity it’s not warmer out,” Derek said. “Otherwise we’d be able to have dinner served up here.”

“This is amazing,” Emily said. “I’ve been using the word
amazing
a lot, haven’t I?”

Derek’s grin turned impish. “A few times,” he admitted.

Once they left the patio, Derek led the way back down to the living room where they sat together on a loveseat and drank champagne and ate caviar that they spooned onto small crouton-like pieces of toast.

“I’ve never had caviar before,” Emily said.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s very salty, but it’s really good.”

“It should be. This is Ossetra, which is as good as it gets.” Derek’s grin shrank a bit. “I’ve gotten addicted to the stuff. These days I eat it like I used to eat potato chips. But what’s the point of being a movie star if you can’t indulge in some of the finer things in life?”

“You’ve got a lot of the finer things in this suite.”

“Very true,” Derek acknowledged.

Emily had kept the robe on so she could warm up after being outside. When she slipped it off, Joseph was there to take it from her and bring it back upstairs. After he had disappeared up the staircase, Emily asked if he was Derek’s personal butler. Derek was amused by the question and shook his head. “I’ll admit to being somewhat spoiled these days, but no, I don’t have a personal butler. Joseph comes with the suite. Shall we order dinner?”

When Joseph returned, he brought them both menus, and Emily ordered the lobster cobb salad at Derek’s urging, while he ordered rib-eye steak and an assortment of artisanal cheeses, sushi and other appetizers for them to share.

“You trying to get me fat?” Emily asked.

Derek arched an eyebrow. “You’d have to have a lot more dinners with me before that could ever be a worry.”

A table was set up with an antique linen tablecloth and a crystal vase filled with vibrant red roses. Like everything else in the suite, the table was a stunning example of beauty and luxury. The food was served to them on silver platters and far surpassed anything Emily had ever tasted before. At first Emily was determined to only nibble on the appetizers Derek had ordered so she wouldn’t be pigging out, but soon she found herself matching Derek bite for bite. He laughed at this and told her how much he enjoyed watching a woman eat with gusto. “So many actresses I work with eat like birds. Tiny, frail anorexic birds, that is,” he added.

Emily felt every bit as relaxed and comfortable with Derek as she had the other night, and conversation between them was easy, but there was one question nagging at her that finally came out.

“Why me?” she asked.

A glint showed in Derek’s eyes. ”You’ve been reading the tabloids?” he asked.

“Actually, I tortured myself last night by doing some web searches and finding photos of all the glamorous and much taller women you’ve been linked with.”

Derek had ordered a bottle of thirty year Macallan scotch with dinner, and he filled a glass, added several ice cubes, and sipped it slowly. His eyelids lowering slightly, he half smiled and half grimaced, and told Emily that it was too bad she had spent any time torturing herself the other night. “You can’t believe what you read on the Internet,” he said. “Most of it’s garbage. I had my fill long ago of actresses and models. It’s not much fun being with someone who cares about who gets more attention or who the tabloids will write up as being the bigger celebrity. It gets tiring, and I guess I’ve hit the age where I want something substantial, something real, and Emily, you seem like someone I could have something real with. It doesn’t hurt either that I find you prettier than any actress or model I’ve ever met, or that I enjoy the hell out of being with you.” His lips curved up into a mischievous smile, showing his dimples. “And it doesn’t hurt that you got one truly great ugly bastard dog.”

Derek right then could’ve picked her up and carried her to the master bedroom if he wanted to; in fact she sat for a long moment hoping he would. But he didn’t. Instead they continued on with their leisurely dinner, with their conversation drifting between Derek growing up in Chicago and Emily’s young life in Des Moines. They finished around ten thirty, and Derek suggested they take a stroll in Central Park. When he examined her cloth coat, he shook his head and told her that wouldn’t do. “No way this will keep you warm enough,” he said, and he put the same leather bomber jacket on her that he had been wearing the other day at the movie location while he wore a camel hair overcoat. The leather bomber jacket was huge on Emily, and she felt like a little girl in it, but there was no doubt it would keep her warm in the frigid night air.

The Plaza was right across the street from the south entrance of Central Park, and as they walked along a well-lit pathway, Derek’s hand found Emily’s. After a while they found a bench where they sat and gazed at the full moon overhead, both of them lost in their thoughts. But at no time did they let go of each other’s hand.

It was midnight when they returned back to the Plaza. Emily had been hoping he’d invite her back to his suite, but instead Derek told her it was time to take her home. The next thing she knew a Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb for her, and Derek with a thin smile playing on his lips, opened the passenger side door for her. That was why they had gotten back at precisely midnight. Derek had arranged for the hotel’s Rolls Royce service to take her home. After she got in, Derek joined her. She was still wearing Derek’s leather bomber jacket, but her cloth coat was hanging on a hook in back of the Rolls Royce. Joseph must’ve brought it down.

“This has been such a wonderful night,” Emily said. “It’s just been magical. Thank you so much.”

“This has been nice,” Derek said. “Really nice. But if you think this has been magical, wait until I take you to Paris.”

Emily was feeling drowsy from the champagne, the heavy meal, and the late hour. She found herself resting her head on Derek’s shoulder while his arm went around her. She wanted to just stay like that, but soon the car was pulling up to her building. Derek got out with her. After exchanging jackets so she had her cloth coat on again, Derek reached into the pocket of his camel hair coat and pulled out a necklace made up of rose-colored cultured pearls.

“When I saw this I knew the color would be perfect for you,” he said.

Against Emily’s objections about it being too extravagant a present, he put it around her neck. Then, placing one hand gently on the back of her head, the other on her back, he reached down to kiss her. His lips were firm and his breath tasted of champagne and scotch and the hazelnut napoleon that he had for dessert. A hotness filled up Emily’s head and her knees weakened. Derek could’ve picked her up right then and carried her to her apartment, undressed her and spent the night making love to her. Instead, after a minute of the most passionate kiss Emily could’ve imagined, he stepped back from her and told her he’d call her the next day, a longing burning every bit as bright in his eyes as Emily felt.

“Why aren’t you trying to make love to me tonight?” Emily asked, her voice husky.

“I promised you I’d protect your virtue at all cost. Even if it kills me. Besides, I believe you’re well worth waiting for.”

Emily wanted badly to tell him that he didn’t have to wait, but instead she nodded. Derek told her he’d see her the next evening, and would be calling by three in the afternoon once he knew more about their shooting schedule. He smiled at Emily in a way that had almost the same effect as his kiss, then disappeared back into the waiting Rolls Royce. Emily watched as the car drove away. Once it was out of sight, she headed back into her apartment building.

Chapter 25

Emily had a decision to make. She was tired of not only the timid and cautious approach she had been taking with her wishes, but with the way she approached life. It was time to do something bold for once, and what she had in mind was certainly bold, to put it lightly!

She would’ve imagined that the wish she was considering should’ve left her stomach in knots and herself a nervous wreck, but instead she felt at peace with it. More than at peace, she felt good about it. Excited, maybe a tad anxious, but overall, happy and excited. Still, she wanted to think it through thoroughly before she saw Jack, so she sat on the staircase leading up to her floor, her thin arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes scrunched up to indicate how deep in thought she was. Not only did she want to make sure that she really wanted to do this, but she also wanted to think up ahead of time all the counterarguments to the opposition that Jack was sure to put against this wish. She knew Jack was going to try to talk her out of it, and she wanted to be prepared for anything he might throw her way.

Finally, with a steadfast resolve hardening her expression, she stood up and made her way up the rest of the staircase and to her apartment. As soon as she fit her key in the lock, Winston began barking, and by the time she opened the door he had scampered down the hallway so he could greet her, his rear-end bouncing enthusiastically.

Emily kneeled to hug him. “Honestly,” she said, “you’re acting as if you haven’t seen me in weeks.”

Winston responded by jumping up and licking her face as many times as he could while Emily hugged him around his thick neck.

Once Winston calmed down, at least somewhat, Emily led the way to the den where she found Jack hovering in the air in his usual reclining position, a book in hand. He smiled at her and told her that he hoped she had a nice evening.

“Thank you. It was a splendid one.”

“Very good. And that’s quite a stunning pearl necklace you’re wearing,” the genie remarked. “I don’t remember you wearing that before. A gift from this actor?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” But if Jack had anything further to say on the matter he kept it to himself, and instead turned back to the book he was reading.

“Jack, I’d like to make another wish.”

The genie put his book aside, and nimbly sprang to his feet. After bowing to Emily, he asked how he could be of service.

“I wish to marry Derek Cole within a week.”

“Very good. Your wish has been granted.”

This took Emily by surprise. She had been expecting a long, drawn-out battle with Jack over this wish, and it took her aback that he granted the wish without any arguing.

“Thank you, Jack,” she sputtered.

Jack nodded slightly, his expression having turned grim. “If there’s nothing else you need, I should return back to my realm.”

“No, there’s nothing—”

Before Emily could utter another word, Jack disappeared within a burst of blue smoke.

That was certainly different, she thought.

Emily sat on the leather armchair feeling an uneasiness worm its way into her stomach. She decided that was what Jack had been after. He knew she was too stubborn to talk her out of her wish, so he acted the opposite of what she was expecting to create self-doubt, thinking she might talk herself out of the wish. Realizing that was the case brought a thin, hard smile to her lips.

Nice try, Jack, she thought.

##

Derek called her right before lunch the following day, acting mysteriously as he asked her if she could meet him at St. Patrick’s Cathedral at precisely three o’clock. He wouldn’t tell her what it was about no matter how much she begged him to. “Oh, and if you can, bring that little ugly bastard, Winston,” he said before hanging up.

Emily was useless after that, her mind spinning with different scenarios of what would be waiting for her at St. Patrick’s. Could he be waiting there with an engagement ring, ready to get married that same afternoon if she said yes? She had only given Jack one week for the marriage to happen, so it seemed not only possible but likely that was what was going on. As Emily convinced herself that Derek was going to be marrying her that afternoon, she couldn’t concentrate on work and could barely sit still. At two thirty she told Mr. Pish that she had an errand to run, but would be back as soon as she could. From the way he sat back in his chair with his fingers interlaced on top of his belly and his eyes bulging slightly, he sensed something was up but didn’t push her to find out what it was. He just brusquely told her to get her errand done quickly and make sure she got him the report she owed him.

Emily took a cab from work and tried desperately to remain calm as the car crept uptown toward St. Patrick’s. It was five minutes to three by the time the cab let her off in front of the cathedral. There was a good-sized crowd standing on the sidewalk, and as Emily squeezed her way through, a man approached her, and after glancing at Winston, asked if she was Emily. She nodded, somewhat confused by the whole thing. Camera flashes went off behind her, but she was too dazed at that moment to wonder why people were taking her picture or to look back and realize that the ones doing so were paparazzi. The church appeared closed to the public, but the man ushered her in.

Several dozen people were milling about inside the church. Emily took several more steps into the church before she saw the movie camera and the stage lights. Then she saw the film director from the other day, Jerry. He noticed her also and came rushing towards her. He no longer looked angry, just harried. Glancing at his watch, he quickened his pace to reach Emily. Perspiration dotted his upper lip and a thin layer of it glittered along his forehead.