Broken (5 page)

He saw me looking at one of the paintings. It was a painting by somebody that I didn’t recognize, but it showed a rare talent, in my
own estimation. It was painted by an artist that evidently was involved in the impressionist movement, so it was different from the other paintings, which favored the surrealists and the abstract artists.

As I was staring at the stunning painting of a woman and her two children on a hotel balcony, Nick came up and said “My best friend painted this,” he said.

“It’s exquisite,” I said, touching it. “He’s very talented.”

“That he is. He’s into the impressionists, as you can probably tell.”

“Yes, definitely.”

It was then that I noticed the gorgeous baby grand piano that was on one end of the enormous living area. I went over to it and sat down on the bench, and plinked my fingers over the keys a little. “Do you play?” I asked him.

“Yeah, a little. Do you want to hear some?”

“Of course, silly. Let’s hear you play something.”

At that, he joined me on the bench. “What would you like to hear?” he asked.

I looked out the window.
It was still only October but I was looking forward to Christmas all the same. I loved Christmas in New York more than anything in the world. It was always so…magical. Even when I was growing up with my mother, and there was never any money for anything, therefore I didn’t get any presents at all, I still loved the season. This was before I started to be removed from the home because of her drunkenness. Of course, with the Wall Street Trader, there were always plenty of presents for me, but I much preferred the present-less Christmases to the ones with him. For obvious reasons.

But there was something about the bustling of the streets during the busy season, and the enormous Christmas tree outside Rockefeller Center that made me smile. I loved the Christmas specials on television, and the carolers outside on the streets. I loved that we usually always had a white Christmas.
Miracle on 34
th
Street
was my favorite movie of all time, and I read
A Christmas Carol
about 100 times growing up.

So I knew what I wanted him to play. “
O Holy Night.
Play
O Holy Night.
”

He smiled, and cracked his knuckles. Then he launched into a gorgeous and nuanced rendition of the song, which was my all-time favorite. He smiled at me as he sang.

“O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining. It is the night of our dear savior’s birth,” we sang. I knew that my voice was off key, but, at that moment, I really didn’t care. His voice was imperfect as well, but better than mine, and he sang in a deep baritone that was deeper than his actual talking voice.

After that song, he looked at me. “So, you like Christmas music, huh?”

“I do, I do,” I said with a smile. “Don’t you?”

“Sure,” he said, then started playing
The River,
another of my favorite Christmas songs.

“Now, how did you know that I loved that song?” I asked him.

“I had a feeling,” he said. “Do you want to hear Christmas music all night, or do you want to hear something else?”

“Surprise me.”

So his next song was
Rhapsody in Blue
by George Gershwin, a familiar standard. I was amazed at how expert he was in playing this piece. There was not a single wrong note, yet he also did a slightly different interpretation from the piece that I knew. Then the next piece was Rachmaninoff’s
Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor.
He looked at me and smiled.

“Oh, I do love this piece,” I said.

“Really. Do you know what it is?”

“Of course. It’s the music from
All By Myself.
” And it was, for Eric Carmen sampled this particular piece in his classic song.

His face immediately fell.

“Just kidding. Rachmaninoff is one of my favorite composers, actually. His Second Piano Concerto is pure genius from start to finish, dontcha think?”

His smile was back.

And there was something else in his eyes at that moment.

I once again felt that his eyes were penetrating my soul, and I thought, for just a moment, that I was starting to see that he was having feelings for me. And this scared me to death. So I immediately started to feel uncomfortable. I got up off the bench and went to stare at his
Kandinsky. It was a mesmerizing mélange of colors and shapes. It was like a dreamscape in a way, or like seeing into the mind of a mad genius. I could stand there and stare at it for hours and see different things the entire time I looked at it.

Nick was soon standing behind me. I felt my heart start to pound. It was almost audible in my ears. “You like?” he asked.

I nodded my head. “Kandinsky is one of my favorites,” I said, as I felt his heat next to me. I could smell his woodsy cologne, and a little bit of Scotch on his breath. His scent really was intoxicating to me, but it made feel horribly uncomfortable as well. Yet he didn’t try to touch me. He didn’t even put his hands on my shoulders, or anything innocent like that. I don’t know, my body language probably told him to stay away, and he did. I felt myself stiffening up as I stood there examining the painting. Truth be told, I wasn’t just looking at the painting. I was trying to decompress, and trying to feel more human again, and not like such a freak.

But I was a freak. Since Mr. Lucas, I hadn’t been able to be close to any guy. The fact that I was there in his apartment was a miracle. Drunk or not, I usually didn’t lose control and do something like that.

“What do you like about it?” he asked me.

“It’s just something visceral. Art is visceral with me. I love what I love, and things just speak to me. Art speaks to me. Or it doesn’t. This painting does. This
Kandinsky is just…there’s something so magnetic about it. It just draws you in.” I felt a little embarrassed in not giving more of an art appreciation answer. I could talk about colors, light and brush strokes, but what it came down to, for me, was how it made me feel.

I turned around, and his face was incredibly close to me. He was so tall, though, that he was leaning down a little bit. Oh, how I wanted to unbutton his shirt and rub my hands on his no-doubt beautiful body. I could tell that he had an athletic and toned body just by the way that he carried himself and by the way that he looked in his clothes.

I had a little fantasy in my head that featured me tearing his clothes off and kissing him all over. Then I immediately felt terrified of doing this. So, I moved away from his space again, and went to examine another painting. It was a Francis Bacon. It was typical of the artist – surreal, terrifying, like a nightmare. Yet one that you just couldn’t look away from. Almost like a Dali painting, but even more nightmarish. This painting seemed appropriate for me and my mindset at that point. I was in a dreamscape, being with this beautiful, intelligent and magnetic man. Yet it was more like a nightmare because I just couldn’t ever imagine myself letting him, or any man, touch me in an intimate way.

Nick kept his distance from me. He stood about fifteen feet away from me, by the
Kandinsky painting that I was just admiring. I was glad for this, because I felt that I could breathe. When he was so close to me, it was almost claustrophobic. The alcohol was wearing off, and I was feeling my vulnerability.

And, just like that, I felt that I had to get out of there.

“Uh, Nick, uh, it’s been a great evening. Really great. But I have to get up early for class and everything tomorrow, and it’s another long day for me.” I actually didn’t have to work at the bar the next evening, so there was that, but I still would have to put in my time studying.

“Wait. You haven’t answered me about the original question. When are you going to start interning for our firm?”

I had to think fast. “Next week. Next Monday. No wait, I need to give notice to the bar. Two weeks. Tell the partners two weeks.” I was rambling, and I was searching for my coat and purse. I opened my purse to make sure that I had subway and cab fare, and seeing that I did, I closed my purse and put it on my shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

“Not so fast. Stop. Let me call my driver to get you home.”

I stood facing the door, feeling tears burning down my cheeks.
Why this reaction? Why now? You were doing so well, Scotty.

“No, really, I’m ok. I get around the city all the time on my own.”

But Nick was already on the phone. He looked at me. “Charlie will be downstairs to take you home in five minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said, opening the door. “Thanks for everything. Uh, I’ll see you Thursday evening in class.”

Nick didn’t make a move to show me out, and I was grateful for this. But, as I made my way to the elevator and stood there waiting for the car to take me down to the lobby of the magnificent building, Nick peeked his head out the door. “Scotty. I’m holding you to it. In two weeks you start interning for our firm.”

I nodded my head and said nothing. But, in my mind, I was desperately searching for a way out. For a way out of this building without being even more humiliated, and a way out of interning for Nick’s firm.

Because if there was one thing that I knew at that point.

Nick was getting way too close for comfort.

Chapter 9

Nick

Scotty had just left my apartment, beating another hasty retreat, much like she did in my office when I offered the intern position to her. But it wasn’t a turn-off for me. It made me intrigued about her. She was like a cornered animal, really, but if there was one thing that I knew about cornered animals, it’s that they react in the way that they do for one reason – fear. Scotty was afraid of me, and I had to know why.

It was in my nature to rise to a challenge. But it was more than that. There was something about her that I found extremely appealing. She was more appealing to me than anybody had ever been, even Iris. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful and intelligent, although she was definitely both of those things. She had no idea how beautiful and intelligent she was, which, of course, made her even more beautiful and intelligent in my eyes. But beyond the surface was something else. Something that compelled me to get to know her better. She was wounded, and it automatically made me feel the need to protect her. Of course, I would be making myself vulnerable, which was scary in and of itself, so I still was very hesitant about pursuing it. But it seemed to be a risk that I would finally be willing to take.

So, I decided to call Ryan and get his advice about her. I looked at the clock – it was around midnight here in New York, so eleven for him in Kansas City. On a Tuesday evening. It would be kinda rude for me to call him this late, but I really needed to get some advice from my most trusted friend.

He picked up on the third ring. “Hey! What’s going on?” he said enthusiastically.

“Nothing much. What’s up your way?”

“The usual. Settling into my new house with Iris. Dealing with Dalilah. Trying to get the permits for our animal shelter. My daughter is scary intelligent. She’s going to put everyone to shame.”

Hearing Iris’ name gave me the familiar pang, but it had lessened a great deal with time.

“So,” he said. “It’s pretty late, so I assume that you’re calling for a reason.”

“Yeah,” I said. But then suddenly thought better of it. “No, actually, I just wanted to say hi. See how you guys are doing.”

“Well, buddy, I have to say. I am, by far, the happiest I have ever been in my life. I’m worried about you, though. I want you to be happy, too.”

“Getting there. It’s slow going, more slow for me than it has been for you. But I hope that things are going to turn around any day now.”

There was silence on the line for a bit. “You still with that supermodel?”

“Penelope?” I felt embarrassed to admit to him that I was still seeing her. Of course, I was still having sex with others, like Portia today in my office. But Penelope was still my main one. “Yeah.”

It was then that, just like clockwork, Penelope was calling. I let it to go voice-mail, which was a stupid thing for me to do. There would be hell to pay for my not picking right up. But it was a game that I played with her. I kept her in line by making sure that I kept her on her toes. Which meant that I was never at her beck and call, no matter what. I knew that I was unusual, because men always fell right at her feet, so I supposed that was part of the appeal for her. And I was the master, the absolute master, at head games. I had perfected the art long before I met Penelope.

I got off the phone with Ryan, after learning that Ryan actually would be in town in a couple of weeks for business, and almost immediately after hanging up with him, Penelope was at my door. “Hey, handsome. Can I crash?”

“Sure,” I said. “Guess your party’s over from tonight, huh?”

“What? No. I just got off of work. Been thinking about you all day. Just wait until I do to you what I want to do to you. What I’ve been fantasizing about today. You wanna hear?”

“Does it involve a third party?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Where is said third party?”

“Just imagine it. Amber. You remember her?”

“Sure. Call her. Get her here now.”

At that, Penelope called Amber. She addressed me. “She can be here in five minutes.”

Amber lived about a block away, I knew. Convenient.

Sure enough, Amber showed up in less than ten minutes. Which was great, because I was salivating for some girl on girl. I hadn’t had that in awhile. Amber was a German model who was even hotter than Penelope, or even Portia, for that matter. On the New York City modeling rung, she was pretty high up there.

“Hello again, Nick,” she said, as she took off her sable coat and carefully placed it on the coat rack. She was dressed from head to toe in a form-fitting black catsuit with boots. Her magnificent body was perfectly outlined in her getup. She didn’t have on a stitch of makeup, because she, too, had just gotten off of work, and, as Penelope explained, since they were always required to wear so much makeup in their photo shoots, they usually went without it in their real lives. But, even without the makeup, she looked perfect. Enormous green eyes, sensuous and full mouth, flawless skin. Physically she was perfect, which was why her face was seen in two-page advertisements in every major magazine and on enormous, building-sized billboards in Times Square. She was one of the most recognizable faces in New York City, and that was saying a lot, considering that this was the city where models abounded.

“Amber,” I said, feeling myself getting hard just looking at her and getting even harder thinking about the three of us in my king-size bed. “Good to see you.”

“I’ll bet.” Then she walked over to me, threw her arms around me, and kissed me, her tongue exploring and interlocking with mine. She tasted sweet, like cherries. Her firm breasts were planted against my chest. She pulled back, looked at me and smiled. “Feels like you’re ready to go,” she said, putting her hand on my crotch.

“Ya think?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, I think.”

At that, Penelope came up to us and she put her hand on Amber’s breasts and the two of them started kissing passionately. Then Penelope started kissing me, while Amber reached down to unbuckle my belt and unbutton my trousers. Her fingers were soon pulling down my boxer briefs, and I felt her lips and tongue sliding up and down my shaft. I was unbuttoning Penelope’s shirt, and let her breasts spill out into my waiting mouth.

“Let’s make our way into the bedroom, shall we?” I said, and the three of us climbed the stairs into my loft bedroom that was high above the rest of the living space. Once there, I looked at Amber, who was still fully clothed.

Amber giggled, then lay down on the bed.

“Come here, you,” I said, as I unzipped the back of her catsuit. I put my teeth on her g-string underwear playfully, acting like I was a tiger chewing on his prey. Then I brought them down. “Legs up the air,” I commanded, and she laid down and spread her long legs in front of me. I tongued her lightly and slowly while she moaned and writhed. Penelope got naked, and she got underneath me, working on sucking me powerfully while I worked on Amber. Her fingers were exploring my ass and I started to groan.

“Stop. I’m going to come,” I said. Then
I slipped on a condom and flipped Amber over on the bed and spread her lips and thrust inside of her. “And if I’m going to come, it’s going to be inside you, Amber,” I said. She started to moan with intense pleasure. Penelope made her way over to me, and I started kissing her passionately and feeling her breasts and clit as I pumped Amber vigorously. I finally was spent, and as I pulled out, Penelope came over to me.

“My turn next, sexy,” she said. She immediately started to stroke me again, and, although it was sensory overload considering I just fucked Amber, I felt myself start to grow again. Penelope leaned over the bed, and I
slipped on another condom and pumped her while Amber stood behind me, stroking my chest and abs and kissing my back and neck.

“God, you’re such a stud,” Penelope said. “That feels amazing.”

It felt amazing to me, too, although, as with Portia earlier that day, there was zero emotion in it. But, since it was physically so pleasurable, and these women were eye candy to end all eye candy, I got into it.

This all went on for another hour or so, before I finally felt that I couldn’t take anymore. So, the three of us fell asleep in my bed, our naked bodies entwined with one another.