The Underground (21 page)

At the end of the day, his fingers were as tired as his brain. He was grateful for the Underground training.

“Joe, would you like to join me for a bite to eat?” Gladys asked. “I could show you some of D.C.’s finest hotspots.”

He wanted to. Very badly. But he had to come across as professional first and foremost, to build her respect. He didn’t need another woman wanting him only for sex. “I would love to,” he said, balancing on a tightrope beneath which his professional and personal life spread out beneath him, “but I should really reorganize the writing I did today so it’s in good shape for you tomorrow.”

“All work and no play makes Joe a dull boy!” she joked, waving her finger.

“I just want to make sure I get it right,” he said, feeling the ache in his neck from hours of bending toward the ergonomically incorrect screen.

“Get your coat,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the lobby. I’m taking you out tonight, and it’s not up for discussion.”

They went to Snake Oil, a hopping club right near the National Zoo where all the dishes had names that referred to clichéd business opportunities. There was a chicken sandwich called, “Wanna Buy a Piece of a Bridge in Brooklyn?” And a burger with sweet potato fries called, “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday,” among others.

Gladys was a class act with an easygoing air that Nathaniel liked. And the restaurant fit her perfectly.
 

“How do you like Archibald?” he asked.

“I’ve been there for seven years and let’s just say they’ve been good to me. Just look at today. I met you and here we are having dinner,” she said.

“I am glad you invited me,” he said, genuinely happy.

At the end of the evening, she leaned over to kiss him. Nathaniel enjoyed Gladys’s soft lips on his. She smiled as she pulled away and turned to leave. Nathaniel stood outside his hotel, watching her walk away.

He took in one last breath of the hot summer night as he enjoyed looking at the city street before him; yet another new place he had never imagined himself.

“Hey, Joe,” she said, turning and yelling in his direction from down the street.

“Yes?” Joe said. She was far more relaxed than your average white collar woman. She reminded him of a football player telling him to send her the ball. And he liked it.

“You like opera?”

“I’ve never been. There isn’t a lot of opera in Kansas City.”
 

“Good, you’ll come with me tomorrow. I’ve got tickets for a star-studded benefit of La Traviata, and I won’t take no for an answer,” she said, flashing a big grin.

“How can I say no to that?” he answered back before he waved goodbye and walked away. He knew this was an important invitation, but it wouldn’t be until the next evening that he would see just how important.

Chapter 27

 
“It’s supposed to be a fabulous production,” Gladys said, as they made their way down the street. She wore a strappy magenta gown that had a tasteful slit half-way up her toned calf. She was transformed from her business persona. “I’m so glad you were available to join me,” she said.

“Me too,” he said. “I must confess, my theater experience was limited to one trip as a kid to see the Nutcracker.” Brigg’s mother had taken them to the Wang Center, in Boston, as kids. He would never forget the 20-foot-tall Christmas tree that magically grew out of the floor like a dream. He nearly mentioned the details, and then realized how easily the truth might slip out about his true origins. He needed to be guarded. Always.

 
“That was your only time?” Gladys said, giving him a come-hither look that made him blush. They moved slowly through the crowd. Gladys knew many of the patrons who waved to her, as they made their way toward the lush velvet seats that signified the comfort of wealth and privilege.

“This place is unbelievable. I could just stare at these murals on the ceiling all evening,” he said, wondering if he should tone down his working class excitement.
 

“I like the idea of showing you new things that make you happy,” Gladys said, moving her body close to his and smiling as she looked into his eyes.

Nathaniel was grateful that the lights dimmed at that moment. The voices hushed, and the operatic experience kidnapped his senses. This was no Nutcracker. The men and women stood gallantly on the stage, entrancing the audience with pristine voices that filled the Washington Opera House.

After the first song, Nathaniel tore his eyes from the stage and looked out over the audience sitting perfectly still in their finest eveningwear, and jewels that dazzled under the dimmed lights. His eyes moved from person to person on the opposite side of the balcony and came to a dead halt at a woman who wore a necklace that held a shocking resemblance to Shayla’s necklace that he remembered from their evening at the hotel. She told him it was one-of-a-kind, a gift from her mother’s favorite jewelry designer. Could it be?
 

He looked at the woman, sitting beside a tuxedo-clad man. As he leaned into her, placing his hand on her lap, she turned momentarily away from him and Nathaniel saw that tiny beauty mark peeking out from the base of her neck and realized it
was
Shayla. It could only be Shayla. Here was the love of his life, directly across the balcony from him, sitting with another man.

The moment froze and the music seemed to stop. He begged her to look at him.
This way, Shelia. Here, my love!
But she continued to stare at the stage. He wanted to leap across the balcony and kiss her full red lips, and hold her forever.

Maybe he could go and wait by the door where her seat was… how could he get away from Gladys without drawing attention? Escape plans flooded his mind. One way or another, he was going to get to her before they left here. He had to.

At the end of a song, the audience applauded and Shayla did too, her eyes leaving the stage and scanning the crowd. When they caught his gaze, she froze, her eyes wide and her lips parting slightly as her rapid clapping slowed. They stared at each other throughout the singing of Dite Alla Giovine, the voices singing a version of their own heart wrenching truth.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to Gladys who nodded to acknowledge him but kept her eyes on the performers. “Men’s room.”

There was a bar just outside the exit from his section and he quickly borrowed a pen and napkin on which he scribbled:
Joe Merino, Omni Hotel, Room 304, 8 p.m. tomorrow. I’ll explain everything.
His heart raced as he folded the napkin into a palm-sized nugget. He scurried to the door he knew she should emerge from. There were a few others milling about in the theater hallways, all focused on cell phone calls.

He stared, unfaltering, at the door. He couldn’t worry about what Gladys would think if he was gone too long. He would feign illness if need be. He had found Shayla, and hoped it wasn’t too late. It was as though he could feel her excusing herself before she daintily walked, ever so slowly, to minimize disturbance as she made her way to the exit. Was he imagining this? He looked at his cell phone and saw he had been outside for five minutes, but it felt like an hour. He would give her another five minutes and then go back inside, knowing she didn’t want to see him.

A moment later, the door opened and out she came. As soon as the theater door closed behind her, she stopped. They stood apart, staring at one another. He wasn’t sure how to begin. This was certainly not the place to describe the jungle he had been through most of the last year. He cautiously walked toward her. Once he was close enough, he spoke gently.

“I believe this is yours,” he said as held out the napkin to her. His hand jittered slightly with a nervousness that he did his best to harness. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to inhale her inviting perfume, but he wasn’t sure she would want him anymore. He held his hand out for what seemed too long, waiting for her to take the napkin.

——–

She made sure her hand brushed his. “I guess it is,” she said taking the wadded napkin. Touching his fingers reassured her that this was really him, that those were absolutely the calloused hands of Nathaniel DeLuca, made rough by years at the Cambridge Public Works. They were also the hands that held her so intimately and touched her with such passion. She had prayed for his safe return, dreamed about it, but she had stopped believing, and now he was right in front of her.

“You enjoying the performance?” he asked her.

“Very much so, but I should get back to it,” she said before reluctantly turning away. The reality of his touch gave her a chill as she turned toward the ladies room, clutching the napkin tightly. Only when she reached the privacy of a bathroom stall did she dare to open her palm and reveal the message he had bestowed.

She wondered why it said Joe Merino. Tomorrow night would provide her with the answer. Room 304 at the Omni Hotel. The thought of being alone with Nathaniel stole her breath, momentarily, as she fought back the tears. She closed her eyes and focused on the evening at hand, as best she could before returning to sit next to the man she had promised eternity to only weeks earlier.

“You okay, my love?” Michael whispered to her when she sat back down.

“Oh yes,” she said, trying to stay present. Michael took her hand and she wanted to pull it away and tell him her heart belonged to another man. As he lovingly caressed her fingers, she squeezed his hand for just a moment, knowing that it was necessary. She could only think about Nathaniel. Why was he there? She looked at him for the remainder of the performance, as the swell of beautiful voices carried them across the balcony to each other. She glanced at Michael, from time to time, to see if he noticed her eyes weren’t focused on the stage, but he was enraptured with the opera. As Shayla looked at Nathaniel, she remembered his touch and that perfect evening in the hotel as they made love again and again, before he disappeared. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting more, and knew she had to pull herself back to reality, and to Michael. The deafening applause at the end of the performance grounded her, and she began to clap, too, returning her eyes to the stage at last.

“That was unbelievable,” Michael said. “I’ve never seen such a perfect operatic performance and I’ve seen La Traviata many times.” His voice slid into a perfect Italian trill when he mentioned the title. She knew that Nathaniel wouldn’t have said it the same way, and suddenly Michael sounded pretentious.
 

“I’m so pleased we came,” she said. If he only knew how pleased! “Do you mind if we skip the reception?”

“Whatever you’d like, my love. Are you not feeling well?”

“Just tired,” she said, as they made their way to the exit. She didn’t know if Nathaniel would be at the benefactor reception, but if he were, she didn’t think she keep herself away from him. And if paparazzi were in the vicinity, that could spell trouble. After all, he had been missing for so long.
 

In the limousine back to her apartment, she wished she could drop off Michael at his place and go home alone but that was impossible. She held Michael’s hand, but looked out the window, imagining Nathaniel’s pleas for forgiveness as he begged her to understand why he left, as he begged her to understand why he needed her back. She saw herself protesting, but only briefly, before she gave herself to Nathaniel, in every way.

“You were the most beautiful woman there,” Michael said, reaching to gently move her chin toward his.

He kissed her with a passion that felt genuine, and she let herself go and kissed him back, knowing what he wanted. She wanted it too, just not from him.

“I want to make love to you,” he said, as they pulled up to her apartment, and she smiled somehow knowing she had to put on a show.

She unlocked her apartment and as soon as they were inside, and kissed her again.

“Take me,” she said, pulling him into the bedroom as she quickly slipped her dress over her head, in desperation to feel Nathaniel, not Michael, against her body.

“I love you,” he said.

“Don’t talk,” she whispered. She didn’t want to hear his voice. She wanted Nathaniel. She turned off the light and pulled him into her, telling herself that he
was
Nathaniel, until she believed it and moaned with the success of a deceitful pleasure. Her private reminiscence of Nathaniel was always the true beacon behind her orgasms. She pushed the scents and sounds of Michael from her mind and kept her eyes shut. Michael’s movements quickened with a passionate force that her body enjoyed.

Her mind was focused elsewhere, on someone else. She knew that no matter where Nathaniel had been and why he was gone, it didn’t matter. Shayla wanted him back.

——–

Just hours earlier, Nathaniel thought Gladys might be a potential spouse, but as she kissed him goodnight with intent, he felt nothing. He thought she was attractive, but felt no desire of any kind.

“I’d love to come up and see your room,” she said quietly after finally pulling away, “but I’ve got to be up early in the morning. Besides, I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, and you’ve still got three more days on my watch. After that, it’s another story.”
 

“I understand,” he said, relieved, and zipped out of her car and into his hotel.

He slept fitfully, dreaming of Shayla all night, waking up hard. He wanted her so badly. The next day it took everything he had to stay focused on the job. The women argued more than the previous days as they tried to come up with different strategies to take Archibald to the next level.