Black Butterfly (15 page)

Sydney rolled to her back and let go of the pillow between her legs, she exhaled. The dream haunted her, and her feelings were just undeniable. She wanted him, and badly.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!”

When her eyes opened she found Portia seated on the edge of her bed. Sydney was so caught up in her thoughts of Nolen she hadn’t heard her friend enter the room. “Hey? What time is it?”

“Ten in the morning. You sure slept late.”

Sydney yawned. “It’s Sunday, a day of rest. Where’s Trish?”

“Mass.”

“Oh. What’s up?”

“Guess who got a call this morning?”

“A call?”

“Yep.” Portia beamed. It was the first time Sydney had seen that sparkle in her friend’s eyes since the incident. “My agent just phoned.”

“On a Sunday?”

“You know Claire never stops.” Portia smiled.

“What did she say? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“She got a call late Friday night from the agency I was telling you about. They want to meet with me tomorrow.”

Sydney sat up, now alert. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. They said they saw my test shots from the Tavern on the Green shoot, and they want to do a go-see on Monday.”

“Oh, wow, that’s great!” Sydney exclaimed. She hugged Portia to her chest tightly.

Portia returned the embrace with soft giggles. “The good thing, Sydney, is that I did it on my own. I thought I needed some endorsement from that creep! This is something I did!”

“That’s right, sweetie, and you deserve it after all you’ve been through. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for you too. I know I didn’t show it, and, well, to be honest I was kinda jealous. So I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”

Sydney drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Their friendship was one-sided at times, but when she left home Portia was the first person to welcome her in. She did the same for Trish when she met her outside of Grand Central Station doing sidewalk sketches for any arriving tourists.

“It’s ok” Sydney said. “All we have to do is get Trish on the right track, and the three of us will take over this town.”

“City,” Portia corrected her.

“Ok, city,” Sydney said and laughed.

“I saw Ricky last night at the club. He told me you ended things and started dating someone? When did all this happen?” Portia asked.

“I’m not dating. I went on a date, and, yes, I ended things.” Portia stared at her.

“Who did you go on a date with?”

“Nolen Adams.”

“You went on a date with that asshole?”

“Don’t call him that, Portia,” she said, and dropped back into her pillows.

“Why not? You all but called him that yourself.”

“No, I didn’t, and stop taking what happened on my birthday out of context.”

“I don’t understand. Didn’t you say he’s financing your show?”

“He is, but the date had nothing to do with the show. I got that part on my own without any influence from him.”

Portia stood. “Sydney, you can’t be that naive. This man is playing you.”

“Stop it.”

“No, you have to open your eyes to what’s really going on! He saw you at the audition and, more than likely, forced them to give you a spot in the show.”

“Wait, I know you’re not saying that I’m not talented enough to get this part on my own?”

“Of course not, but if the owner of the production is trying to screw you, you have to know that it’s not a coincidence.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you because you can’t be objective,” Sydney said, she threw back the covers and went to the bathroom.

“What does that mean?” Portia yelled through the closed door.

“It means that you think that every time you have a gig where a man is even mildly attracted to you, the outcome is all about sex.”

“I do not. I just know this industry, and you don’t!”

Sydney opened the door in her blue-and-white cloud pajamas. “Let’s not fight. I went out with him. We didn’t sleep together, and the world didn’t stop spinning on its axis. Can we change the subject?” Portia followed Sydney into the kitchen.

“You hungry?” Sydney asked, taking two eggs from the fridge and setting the frying pan on the stove.

Portia picked up her purse and portfolio. “No. I’m on my way to see my agent. We’re going to pick out the best head shots.”

“On a Sunday?”

“She’s flying out to Paris this evening, and she wants to make sure I’m prepared. This is big, Sydney. You know that. It’s been over a year, girl. Finally something is happening around here!” Sydney smiled. “Ok. Tonight Club Nirvana is having open mic. Want to go?”

“Sure do. I’ll be back in a few hours and we can head to Soho. I want to shop for something to wear.”

“Shop? Soho? Who has that kind of money?” Sydney frowned.

“You’ve got a paying gig now, mami. Loosen up the wallet strings.”

“We still haven’t paid the gas bill.”

“Dang, Sydney, everything is going to be fine. You’ll see. Love ya!” Portia called back as she left.

The phone rang and Sydney reached for it, setting down the egg she’d been about to shatter against the edge of the frying pan.

“Hello?”

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Hi, who’s this?” she asked, crinkling her nose.

“It’s Nolen.”

“Oh, ok.” She laughed. “You know I have two roommates.”

As if on cue, Trish walked in the door and smiled at her.

“Sure, but you’re the prettiest.”

“You’re biased.” Sydney smiled.

“Have you eaten?”

“As a matter of fact, I was about to cook some eggs.”

“How about I take you to breakfast?”

“Where?”

“I have the best chef at my place,” he said.

Sydney remembered her dream and her stomach fluttered with excitement. Trish pulled off her coat and flashed a friendly smile. She chewed over another option. “My girlfriend and I would love to have breakfast with you.”

Nolen chuckled. “So you’re bringing reinforcements?”

“Hey, it’s just breakfast, right?”

“Right. I’m twenty minutes away. See you soon.”

“Wait!” she shouted, but the line clicked off.

“What’s wrong? Sydney?” Trish asked.

Returning the eggs to the fridge, she slammed the door shut. “Get dressed in something cute and be ready in twenty minutes.”

Leaving Trish staring open-mouthed, she rushed to her bedroom. By the time Trish recovered and sought an explanation, Sydney was already in the shower.

“Where are we going?”

“To breakfast at Nolen Adams’s.”

“No, Sydney. I have some painting I need to do.”

“I can’t be alone with him! Get dressed.”

“What happened on your date?”

Washing the shampoo out of her eyes, Sydney stepped back under the shower spray. “It was fun. We went skating.”

“Then why can’t you be alone with him?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you later, I promise. Just get dressed and wear something of mine, Trish. Don’t put on a turtleneck and jeans!”

“It’s not my date. I’m just the chaperone!” Trish tossed back.

Sydney jumped out of the shower, drying herself then rushing through a quick blow-dry of her hair. She was only halfway done when she heard her name being called.

“The driver’s here!”

Grabbing a brush, Sydney smoothed her bushy fro into a poufy ponytail and then raced around the room, getting dressed. When she emerged minus a shoe, Trish laughed. Sydney didn’t.

“You got on a turtleneck and jeans,” Sydney huffed.

“I could always stay here.”

“C’mon!”

They grabbed their coats and hurried out the door with the driver in tow. Once outside Nolen stood near his limo, talking on the phone.

“Where’s the other roommate?” he asked, ending the call and smiling at them both.

“Busy,” Sydney answered. The driver opened the door and the women climbed in with Nolen following.

“How are you, Trish?” he asked.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Sydney, good morning.”

“Morning, Nolen,” she said, pulling earrings from her pocket. She slipped the hoops in her lobes while Nolen watched, apparently intrigued. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a meaningful smile.

“What do you want for breakfast, ladies?”

Trish shrugged. “Eggs and bacon, I guess.”

“French toast and fruit!” Sydney piped up.

Trish laughed. “Oh, yeah, pancakes and hash browns!”

“How about corned beef hash and grits?” Sydney asked, and they gave each other a high-five.

Nolen seemed mildly amused. “I’ll just tell Claude to do the works. Southern style?” He cut his eyes over to Sydney with a seductive wink.

Sydney flashed him her sexy smile. “‘The works’ sounds perfect.” Nolen dialed his chef and gave instructions. Once again he wore all black and she wondered whether the man owned any other color. He looked over at her when he spoke. The gleam in his hazel brown eyes, coupled with his sly smile, reminded her of the sexy dream. Swept up again in the intensity of that imagined moment, and she could actually feel herself pinned against the wall while his tongue flicked at her rapid beating pulse under her skin. How he pushed himself harder and harder against her with a slow grind to his hips. The strong hands he held her with, and the corded muscles in his chest she’d felt when they’d kissed in the park made her think that part of her imagination was accurate. God, she wanted to know more.

“Sydney,” Nolen said.

Snapping out of it, she realized he had said her name twice.

Trish looked at her, apparently confused. “You ok?” she asked.

Sydney blushed, flustered. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“How did you sleep last night?” he asked.

“I slept fine,” she mumbled.

When they arrived at a prestigious address on the Upper West Side, Trish and Sydney stared at the English style balconies, chateau inspired chimneys, and the distinctive mansard roof. The place was within walking distance of Central Park, and any window or balcony would provide a magnificent view. As the limo drove inside the underground parking garage, Nolen narrowed his eyes on Sydney. She avoided his stare, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

The driver opened the door. Nolen emerged first and waited for them both.

“Are there other tenants here?” Trish asked, looking around the empty garage.

“Yes, Trish, there are, but this is my part of the building. The other residents share a parking deck on the opposite side.”

Trish elbowed Sydney as they walked behind him, and they gave each other a whoop-de-do look.

Stepping inside a plush, magenta-floored elevator, they rode up to his private floor, and stepped into the foyer of his palatial home. Sydney and Trish marveled at the elegance. The floors were a light teak wood, and the classic, masculine furniture was expertly spaced, giving the room an airy feel. Dark wood beams ran all the way across the vaulted ceiling, revealing the age of the building. Nolen pressed a button, and the twelve-foot high drapes moved back automatically to reveal a breathtaking view of Central Park.

Trish headed straight for the window. “I could really do some great paintings from here.”

“You paint?” Nolen asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s your medium?”

“Oil,” she said shyly.

“She’s really good,” Sydney offered.

Nolen slipped off his coat, and the ladies removed theirs as well, handing them to him. “I have a gallery on Madison Avenue. Maybe you can show me your work sometime. I could make some calls.”

“Are you serious, really?” Trish asked.

“Wait? You have a gallery?” Sydney frowned.

“I’m serious. I’m sure you’re talented.”

Sydney looked on in disbelief, Portia’s warning echoed in the back of her mind. The man was more than some Wall Street hotshot. He was the real thing. Sydney guessed him to be no more than 27. How could he be so accomplished so young? And what did he really want with her? She stared a bit too long because their eyes met. He tilted his head slightly trying to read the question in her eyes. “No promises, of course.” He said to Trish.

She managed a smile. “Of course.”

“There you are!” an unfamiliar voice said.

The girls turned as another man entered the room. He had a fading bruise on the right side of his face.

He seemed please to find them, but Nolen’s reaction was far from it.

“What are you doing here?” Nolen asked.

Todd’s gaze switched between Sydney and Trish. “I called Annemarie. She said you were home today. I thought we could play some squash. Who are your friends?”

“Hi, I’m Sydney,” she said, she offered her hand in greeting. Todd grinned at Nolen as he accepted her hand. “Pretty name. Nice to meet you. I’m Todd.”

“And this is Trish.” She pointed to her friend, who stood by the window, gaping at him.

Todd nodded to her. “Hello, Trish.”

“Hello,” she answered softly.

“I want to talk to you,” Nolen grumbled, he walked off.

Todd excused himself and followed Nolen out of the room.

Curious, Sydney careened her neck observing the two until they disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

“Is that his brother?” Trish asked, coming up beside her.

“I don’t know.”

“He’s cute,” Trish whispered.

“Yes, he is.” Sydney agreed. “Look at you, Trish! You got the hots for the guy after a single hello!”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t even know him.”

“Trust me, that doesn’t seem to matter around Mr. Adams.” She looked back in the direction where the men had exited. “And my guess is that it doesn’t matter to his friend either.”

“What are you doing here?” Nolen snapped once they’d reached his in-suite office.

“What’s wrong with you? Since when am I not allowed to come here?” Nolen paced. “I don’t need your games today, Todd.”

“Who are they?”

“The roommates of the girl you attacked.”

Todd’s smirk faded. “That bitch attacked me!”

“Whatever. Do you see why you should leave?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You think they want to break bread with the man who hurt their friend?”

“Maybe they don’t know who I am,” Todd plopped down in a leather chair.

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t be put in the position of explaining you to them.”