The thin, high heels of my awesome sandals clicked on the floor as I wandered through the apartment. I did it smiling to myself because, it was turned low which might be a crime in some states, but I could hear Black Sabbath.
I turned the corner into the living room and saw Knight outside on the balcony, heels up on the railing, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. I knew while I’d showered and got ready to face the day he’d probably moved to refresh his cup. Other than that, no.
It was one of the things I loved about him. Comfortable in his own company. He had very little downtime, what little he had he spent with me but if there were moments like this, he didn’t need to fill them with books or TV. Just music, coffee (or a beer or a vodka rocks), his smokes and himself.
Like everything about Knight, I thought it was hot.
His neck twisted and his eyes came to me when he heard my approach. His eyes to me, I watched him crush his cigarette in the ashtray.
I got close, his head went back, he moved his mug to his other hand so his hand closest to me could curl around my hip and I leaned in to touch my mouth to his.
I pulled back an inch and said softly, “Gonna check in at the spa.”
“Right,” he muttered.
“Can I ask you to think about something while I’m gone?” I requested.
“Anything,” he told me and I lifted a hand to his neck as I felt my face get soft.
“Think of something I can do to contribute to our home. I get you wanna look out for me but what you need to get is I need to do that. Groceries. Utilities. Paying the cleaners. Something. Until my spa becomes the whopping success I’m gonna make it be, I know with this place I can’t afford to go halfsies and you’ll never let me do that anyway. But I need to do something.”
I knew he was stuck on the beginning of what I said when his eyes drifted to my mouth and he whispered, “Our home.”
My fingers at his neck gave him a squeeze and I whispered back, “Honey.”
His eyes came to mine and he told me quietly, “We’ll talk about it tonight.”
My man. He loved me and he’d give me anything.
I smiled at him and replied, “Okay.”
His eyes dropped back to my mouth.
“Want that mouth again before you go.”
I gave it to him. His fingers drove into my hair, holding me to him and he plundered it.
Then, after throwing him a smile over my shoulder as I walked away, I went.
“See you later!” I called as I walked down the hall at the top level of my spa.
“Later!” one of the two dudes who were finishing up the steam room shouted back.
I grinned and wandered down the softly lit hall with its dark wood paneling.
Mahleena’s plant people were coming that day. Plants. That meant we were close to opening. Live bamboo, mostly. The feel was clean, rich, warm, expensive with a hint of Oriental. Very little color as Mahleena liked it with touches of warm reds at my demand. Mostly because they reminded me of Knight.
I wandered down the curving staircase and looked across the open area, it’s snug, paneled nail stations, pedicure lounges and open hair stations with the tall mirrors and lights dangling.
“Awesome,” I whispered, got to the bottom and wandered through to the high reception desk that was built out of thin panels of dark wood and set away from but at an angle to the front door.
I moved behind it. The phone had already been installed. The computer system was being installed the next day. If Mahleena or any of the workmen left me non-urgent notes, they put them there. I’d done a walkthrough when I arrived without going back there and had gotten caught up with talking to the boys so I was checking for notes before I left.
Then a trill shivered up my neck and it wasn’t the kind Knight gave me. Like they were guided by unseen forces, my head came up and my eyes moved out the huge, plate glass windows at the front of my place to the street and I sucked in breath.
Nick was walking down the street, looking over his shoulder at something not me but toward my spa. I didn’t like this. This wasn’t the coincidental scenario Knight threw out of me seeing Nick on the street. He was there for a reason. I knew it.
I shrugged my bag off my shoulder to the reception desk in order to grab my phone when the door to my spa opened. My back went straight and my eyes went to the door.
A heavyset man about an inch or two taller than me with a receding hairline, a deep tan and a gold chain tangling with the profuse amount of hair that grew up from his chest was walking in, eyes to me. I didn’t like the look of him. Not at all.
Seedy.
No, sleazy.
“Sorry,” I told him, “we’re not open yet.”
“Anya Gage?” he asked, not faltering a single step in walking to me.
Keeping my gaze on him, I opened the snap on my bag and dug in for my space age phone.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m Drake Nair.”
I knew no Drake Nair and by the look of him, I knew I never wanted to.
I found the phone and pulled it out, lifting up my hand so he could see. His eyes dropped to it then came back to me when I spoke.
“And what can I do for you, Mr. Nair?”
He had stopped four feet away from the desk. “I’m Knight’s ex-partner.”
A surprise and not the good kind.
I held it together and didn’t even blink.
“Yes?” I prompted.
He studied me.
I informed him on a warning, “There are two men working upstairs, Mr. Nair.”
“Not surprised,” he muttered, still studying me and not talking about not being surprised about men working in my place.
“Mr. Nair, I have things to do,” I stated. “Would you like to tell me why you’re here?”
He focused more fully on me and replied, “You asked me to guess ten years ago, I would say you’re exactly what he wanted but I wouldn’t say you’re what he could get.”
I kept my back straight, my eyes on him and my hand curled on my phone. What I didn’t do was speak.
He did.
“Still. Boy was a magnet for pu**y, f**k, they were all over him. You know, they wanted him to drive stock?”
“I assume you’re referring to Knight and since I don’t know you, I’d prefer not to discuss him with you.”
He ignored me. “Girl, stock, that’s the big time. He woulda owned it. Way he looks? He didn’t even have to win. Big time investors and endorsements would be creamin’ their jeans to have their logos on his car, his suit, his face in their magazine ads.”