Under His Spell (The Miami Tycoon) (6 page)

“Aw, baby, I thought you were my date! I got you a corsage and everything.” He swiftly plucked a bristly red flower from a slim vase on the bar and tied the stem around Erica’s slender wrist. How many women has he tried that trick on, Erica wondered. Still, it was kind of sweet of him to entertain her. She sipped her drink a little quicker than she normally would, trying to forget a certain someone and his dancing. Anthony kept talking.

“Anyway, you were the only person to bring a date from outside the office. We usually come here just us. Nick never even brings his wife. Good thing too, way you two were dancing.” Erica did not hear any of the words that came after wife.

“Wife? Nick’s married?”

Anthony looked at her strangely. “Yeah, you didn’t know that? I figured Jess would’ve told you by now. Weird.”

“Ah, no, I guess she didn’t say anything to me. Nobody did.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Yep, now I know.” The color in Erica’s cheeks had drained, leaving her pale and washed-out-looking. Erica threw back the rest of her drink and slammed it on the bar.

“Think I’ll have another,” she said.

Three drinks later, Anthony was guiding a somewhat wobblier Erica back to the table. Jess was still there, and Ryan and Jill were engrossed in some kind of serious conversation at the far end of the table.

Emily, who looked like she was holding Ashley up by the shoulder, hissed at Erica, “I’m taking this little alcoholic back to her apartment in a cab, then I’m going home, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Man, the margaritas were good, but I don’t know if they were good enough to make up for having to listen to this child. It’ll be too soon if I never have to hear her tell me about the difference between dusky rose and pink again.”

“Sorry!” Erica felt bad for dragging Emily here. “We’ll come back another time minus the annoyances, promise.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’m sorry your handsome dance partner had to leave so soon. You should stay awhile, maybe he’ll come back. Just try to have fun, and don’t come home too late. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Love you Pandy. Bye. Bye Anthony! Bye Jess!”

“Bye Em!” Anthony saluted the retreating Emily, who looked like a soldier carrying a fallen comrade.

“So, Jess, what have you been up to tonight?” Erica asked, slightly sauced.

“Oh, the usual, just watching Ryan and Jill fight.” Jess sounded annoyed.

Upon closer inspection, the two did in fact appear to be fighting. Their heads were bowed closely together, and Jill had a bloodthirsty expression on her face. Ryan just looked upset.

“What are they fighting about?” asked Erica.

“I guess Jill was saying she caught Ryan staring at another girl. Seriously, I feel like sometimes Jill is just looking for something to punish that poor guy for.”

“Eesh,” said Anthony. “Glad I’m not dating her. She’s scary, man.”

Just as Anthony was saying it, Jill made a gesture chilling in its casual cruelty. Without so much as batting an eyelash, she reached out and, with a flick of the wrist, upended Ryan’s drink onto his lap. Ryan looked shocked and then hurt. Jill swept up calmly and gathered herself.

As Jill was walking towards the exit, she said to the rest of the gang, in a low, cold voice, without even glancing their way, “Night, fellow workers. I think Ryan’s going to need a little cheering up.”

Jess rushed over to the stunned Ryan and got him some napkins. After a cursory pat on the back and a “You okay, man?” to which Ryan replied that he was, Anthony backed off and motioned that Erica should do the same.

They walked to the edge of the roof, where a beguiling view of the city awaited them. Erica stood still for a moment, admiring the neon lights of the club district and the further-off high-rises with a few lonely office windows still lit. She tried to keep her mind away from wondering whose window Maxwell was in.

Anthony continued talking about Ryan. “He’s hurting right now. Jess hovering over him is probably all he can handle. We should just let him chill for a second.”

Erica looked away from the gorgeous view and back at Anthony. “You’re right. Man, Jill is one cold fish. She hardly even blinked when she was spilling that drink on him.” Erica, even through her slightly tipsy brain, was unnerved by Jill’s coldheartedness.

“Yeah, she’s a killer. Let’s go get a drink, I’m all shook up.”

“Good idea!” Erica knew, somewhere in the hidden recesses of her mind, that another drink was definitely not a good idea, but she shoved that knowledge deep under the night’s other revelation: that the boss she was crushing so hard on had a wife. Once she remembered that fun little bit of news, another drink sounded like the best idea in the world. So she had one. And then another one. And suddenly she and Anthony were standing in a dark corner under an awning, and he was pulling her towards him. Erica scrunched up her face and pulled away. “No! Sorry, I can’t. I don’t like you.” Her tequila-pickled brain didn’t stop her from saying the next part. “I don’t like you ‘cause I like Nick.”

Anthony stopped. “So, now you’re being honest with me. Listen, sugar, you don’t have a chance with him. He’s married! So why not take a chance on your incredibly handsome and single coworker, hmm?” At that, he pulled her in again, and kissed her. She squirmed at first, but then gave in to his reasoning. He’s right, I’m never going to be with Nick and that’s the way it should be, she thought, even as she was trying not to think about how miserable Anthony’s kiss was in comparison with a certain someone else she’d recently been kissing.

The next thing Erica knew, Anthony was walking her into the lobby of Emily’s building.

“So, I’m coming up, right? I think you and I have some...unfinished business tonight. Don’t you have a...sale you need to close on? I can help you with it.” Anthony was drunk now, too, making silly innuendos and winking sloppily at Erica.

They were standing in front of the elevators, waiting for one to come. Under the bright lights and mirrors of the lobby, Erica was just beginning to surface from her drunken haze, and just beginning to realize the mistake she was making.

“Sorry Anthony, you gotta go home. Unfinished business is gonna have to wait until Monday, and you know I never need your help closing a sale.”

“Aw, come on, let’s just have one last drink together. You and me. What do you say?”

Erica knew what that meant. “Not gonna happen, buddy. It’s my bedtime. I’m not bringing you into Emily’s apartment.”

Anthony’s face grew petulant. “Fine, then let’s go to my place. We can conduct our business there. Come with me.”

“Seriously Anthony, you have to go.” Erica was trying to be gentle but fast becoming irritated. Two elevators had come and gone already as they argued.

“The only reason you won’t sleep with me is because you still think you have a shot at fucking the boss. Well listen, I’m the best option you have, you might as well face it, Erica.”

She knew he was drunk, (and so was she) but Erica was done being gentle. Anthony had crossed a line.

“Get out,” she said, in the sternest voice she could muster. “Right now.”

Her angry tone must have penetrated the thick layer of alcohol over Anthony’s brain, because he finally got the hint and left.

The third elevator took forever to come. Erica bit her lip and tried to hold it all in as she looked at her tired face in the mirrored walls. When the elevator finally came, Erica got in, and waited for the doors to close before she let herself cry a couple tears for a shitty, shitty night. Anthony was a big greedy child disguised in expensive suits; Nick, as the only decent man in Erica’s living memory, was of course married; Ashley the annoying had ruined Emily’s good time.

Erica crept into the apartment as quietly as she could, and fell into bed without washing her face, which she only did when she was very, very drunk. She slept dreamlessly, and knew nothing of the raging, pounding headache that would greet her upon waking.

Erica spent the next morning in a fog. The end of the night before, as well as whatever lay ahead, were inscrutable to her. Her memories of everything that happened before Anthony told her about Nick’s wife were crystal-clear: everything after was obscured in mist. She vaguely remembered yelling at Anthony in the lobby, but wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, and couldn’t for the life of her remember why.

It wasn’t until midday that she began packing and readying to leave the guest room at Emily’s for her new place. She still only had a few suitcases; she’d have to drive up to Orlando the next day to get her furniture from the storage facility. After carrying her meager possessions to her car, she put the sheets from the guest bed in the washer and vacuumed the carpet.

Emily and Manny had both slept late, but they’d gone to get lunch by the time Erica finished her preparations to leave. She wrote them a note thanking them both and promising to make them dinner soon; she left it on the kitchen counter and locked the door behind her.

Erica felt none of the optimism with which she’d begun the week. The rings under her eyes were dark and the hangover still hung heavy over her head. Even a new apartment didn’t feel exciting or filled with possibilities. She just felt tired and vaguely nauseous.

Loading up the Karmann Ghia, Erica tried to cheer herself up. She loved the car, old and somewhat unreliable as it was. Her dad had given it to her before she’d left for U of M. Serene and Gary, Erica’s parents, lived in Homestead, a town on the far outskirts of Miami. They worked at Biscayne National Park, as an ecologist and a marine biologist respectively. Erica had loved growing up near the park, but had wanted to be in the big city for college.

The Ghia was her dad’s baby, a yellow ’71 model he’d bought cheap and spent years fixing up. Erica had been shocked the day he’d told her it was hers; almost overwhelmed at her father’s generosity. He’d told her she looked better driving it, but Erica knew he cherished the car.

She’d poured a healthy chunk of her lawyer’s salary (or of what was left after paying off her student loans) into keeping the car running, but now the Ghia purred like a kitten. It usually made her smile just seeing the bright banana-yellow paint job. Erica decided to pull the top down and listen to something fun on the way.

After waving hello to Marina, who was on the phone in the lobby (presumably with a flaky contractor, if tone and intensity of hand gestures were any indication,) Erica finally made it to apartment 6B. She dumped her suitcases on the floor and went to get a glass of water. Then she realized she didn’t have a glass. She drank from the tap, lapping like a cat, and began to sense a tiny bit of humor about her situation. Great! Nick was married! Even better, actually, because now she had one more reason to stay the hell away from him! Who needs drinking glasses! Drinking straight from the tap is such an authentic, refreshing experience! Erica started laughing as she drank, and when she was finished, she wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

Her favorite detail of the apartment was the balcony. The doorway to it was arched and the glass on the rounded hemisphere was stained a beautiful ruby red. She opened the glass door and stepped out, barefoot, on to the cool stone floor, holding on to the wrought-iron railing. The balcony overlooked the building’s tree-lined courtyard and the still-swampy pool.

Plants. She could grow plants on this balcony, which was now her balcony. Maybe some herbs for cooking, and a nice big fern. It felt good to have a place of her own. Gave her a sense of control over some small facet of her increasingly haphazard and fast-paced life. She let out a small sigh, and decided that everything would just have to work out.

That Monday morning, everything seemed to be doing just that. Erica’s morning open house at a place in Little Havana had gone very well, and she’d just gotten a listing for another of the apartments in her own building. She knew she could sell it in a heartbeat, with her knowledge and fondness of the old hotel. After writing copy for the online listing, Erica got up to ask Jessica how the rest of her weekend had gone. Anthony intercepted her on the way to Jess’s desk.

“Erica, I am so sorry about Friday night. I had way too much to drink, and if I said anything that offended you or was in any way insulting or in any way caused you to think less of me, I am sorry and I regret it. Also, please forgive me, ‘cause I can’t let such a gorgeous girl stay mad. Causes wrinkles.”

Erica smiled grudgingly. “Oh, relax, my friend. I apologize if I did anything rude or embarrassing as well. I barely remember it. Was it bad? Did we fight? I kind of remember yelling at you, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no worries at all.” Anthony looked deeply relieved. “Let’s just forget the whole thing. Fuckin’ tequila. We probably both acted like idiots.” He put his hands in his pockets, looking oddly sincere. “And I am glad we didn’t go too far. Because I want our first time to be special.”

“Aw, you’re such a sweetheart,” Erica said. “If by our first time you mean our first time eating lunch together, then yes. Want to get a slice of key lime pie later?”

“Oh, sure thing, sweet cheeks.”

“Call me that again and your slice of pie will be delivered via frontal impact to the face.”

Anthony spoke into an imaginary tape recorder as he removed himself from Erica’s path. “Note to self: Erica is violent and unstable. Proceed accordingly.” Erica practiced her eye-roll as she continued on her way.

Lunch with Anthony was surprisingly wonderful. They went to a little bodega a few blocks away and sat at a tiny cramped counter in the back. They drank coffee, ate pie, talked about work, and talked about coworkers. Anthony had only nice things to say about their officemates, and reassured Erica that she was fitting in just fine. He didn’t say anything overly flirty and Erica found herself enjoying the time despite her misgivings about Anthony. Some small voice in the back of her mind warned her to be careful (probably the small part that remembered just exactly what had happened with him the weekend prior,) but the key lime pie was so good and the company so nice that, for the first time since she met Maxwell, Erica went an hour without thinking about him. When she returned to her office she felt immeasurably brighter and more forgiving towards her coworkers. Even Jill seemed less prickly.