5 Gabriel
5
Gabriel
“Gosh, that was amazing! Can you believe that we were at one of the Henry Hughes parties? Those things are legendary! And we were there!” Ramona exclaimed as she collapsed into my passenger seat. She raked her hand through her wild red hair, shaking her head in disbelief. “I bet that’s what parties were like in The Great Gatsby . Oh my goodness. And he’s so intelligent. It was like talking to Einstein.”
I studied the darkened road ahead as Ramona went into overdrive from excitement. The party was impressive, I’d give her that, but our goal wasn’t to be as social as Ramona had been that evening. If anything, she’d crossed one too many lines.
“I thought we agreed to a three-drink maximum,” I said as my hand stayed glued to the leather steering wheel. Personally, I’d only had one drink, but that was because I knew I was still in work mode. If people weren’t my family or friends, then they were my work colleagues or clients, and I had a strong belief that my work colleagues or clients should never see me intoxicated. It would make me too human for them, and that was never a good thing.
People respected you more if there was a bit of mystery to you. If they saw you off-kilter, they’d work like hell to remember you in that flawed state as a way to have power over you. I’d learned that fact the hard way.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Everyone was drunk,” she said.
“I wasn’t.”
“That’s because you’re a buzzkill.” She reached into her small clutch and pulled out two pieces of gum. She popped them into her mouth and chewed them like a camel. “So…what should we do now?” she asked, taking a piece of her hair and twirling it around her finger.
Remember how I’d learned that fact the hard way?
Ramona was my hard way.
One too many late nights in the office led to one too many hookups.
We’d only hooked up once, but like I said, it was one too many.
Now, she thought it was appropriate to call me a buzzkill and wonder what we’d do after a party.
“We aren’t doing anything. I’m taking you home, and then I’ll see you at work.”
“ Or ,” she offered, “you could stay at my place.”
“Ramona,” I said sternly.
She pouted. “Gabriel.”
“We’ve talked about this. What happened between us was—”
“Fucking fantastic,” she drunkenly sang. “I really appreciated that thing you did with your tongue when you licked my as—”
“ Ramona .”
“ Gabriel. ”
“You’re drunk.”
“I am.” She spread her legs and moved her hand between them. “And horny.”
I ignored her, which made her huff and puff. “You’re so boring sometimes. I liked you better when you drank.”
“Of course, you did. I wasn’t myself when I drank.”
“I could learn to like you sober, too, you know.”
I already knew where the conversation would begin in the morning. She’d come into work and state how she didn’t remember anything from the night prior. Even though she probably did. It had happened a few times before. After holiday parties. During work celebrations. Ramona was a professional at hitting on me while she was drunk and then pretending like it never happened.
Ramona wasn’t an awful hookup. She was beautiful and gifted in the bedroom, but that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that ever since then, she’d looked at me with hopeful eyes. As if I’d someday give her more than that one night. That was a big issue because I didn’t give myself away to anyone.
I was what my mother called the ultimate playboy. I didn’t have the willingness to settle down with one woman. I’d never had that pull. I loved women—I did. In all shapes, sizes, and flavors. Still, I had a solid rule when it came to my hookups. The moment their eyes looked hopeful was the moment I’d have to cut them loose. It was for their own good. Nothing good came from falling for a man like me. my career was my life.. There wasn’t much room for anything else to exist within my realm.
Which was why it was odd how much Kierra remained on my mind after the evening came to an end. Most of the time, I kept to myself, but for some reason I’d felt a magnetic pull toward her all evening. I’d found myself searching for her out of the corner of my eye time and time again. Why was that? Hell if I knew. All I knew was there was something about her that just felt…right. I wasn’t a people person. I was never one to seek out connections, but something about Kierra Hughes made me oddly want to wake up early to get a damn muffin.
Kierra was beautiful. As stunning as a person could’ve ever been. Beautiful smooth brown skin, entrancing dark-chocolate eyes, and full lips painted red. She wore gold jewelry and her dress hugged every curve of her body. She smelled like gardenias, too. Gardenias and honeysuckle.
Fuck, why did I know that? Why did her scent linger in my nostrils every time after we’d crossed paths tonight?
“Do you think they have a good sex life?” Ramona asked, breaking me from my thoughts.
“What?”
“Henry and his wife.”
“Why the hell would you ask me that?”
“I’m just saying, he’s brilliant and I’m curious if he’s brilliant in all areas of his life.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about our clients’ sex lives,” I muttered.
“I wonder if he uses sex toys that he’s invented on her. To test out prototypes. Henry told me he was coming out with a line of robotic toys.”
For the love of…
Did she really speak to Henry Hughes about sex toys?
That rubbed me wrong in every way possible. How unprofessional could Ramona get? She was too grown-up to be acting so inappropriately.
I gripped the steering wheel. “Perhaps we should hold off on conversations about sex toys with clients,” I said, echoing my previous words.
I saw her smug smirk out of the corner of my eye. “Why? Are you jealous?”
I didn’t say another word.
She grumbled to herself and turned her back toward me. It was clear that she was irritated that I was back to being her grumpy ol’ boss man again, but I didn’t mind. Honestly, I couldn’t have been happier when I pulled up to her apartment building. She climbed out of the car, still not looking back at me.
“Drink some water,” I told her.
She turned around on her heels and flipped me off. “Bite me, Gabriel.”
I’d rather not. Biting her was exactly what led us to this uncomfortable exchange.
“See you in the morning at the office,” I said.
“I’m going to be late,” she promised.
I had no doubt she’d keep that promise, too.
After driving off from her place, I headed back home with my mind spinning with images of Kierra. I didn’t know why I still hadn’t been able to kick the idea of her from my mind. I could still see her smile lines and full, plump lips at the forefront of my thoughts.
As I walked into my house, I was greeted by my German shepherd, Bentley, who always welcomed me home with the utmost excitement. Then he followed me around like a shadow. I headed straight for my office and pulled out my sketchbook, then sat down with only the dim glow of my desk lamp lighting the paper in front of me. Bentley lay right at my feet.
Whenever my mind was too busy with images, I’d sketch them out. I’d been doing it for as long as I could remember. Sketching was an outlet for me. Most of the framed drawings in my home were made from snapshots of moments in my mind.
Therefore, instead of sleeping, I sketched Kierra Hughes from memory.
Her long, toned legs.
Her high cheekbones.
Her slicked-black ponytail.
I drew her laughing because that was how she seemed to live within my mind. She radiated a kind of beauty that I’d thought only existed within my dreams. She seemed so damn nice, too. Sincere. As if she truly wanted to make sure everyone was enjoying their time. Henry seemed to be the opposite of his wife. Where he’d loved to show off his own talents, Kierra preferred to hear about others.
I stayed up way too late drawing Kierra Hughes in my book of sketches. When I headed to bed, it was almost three in the morning. That wasn’t shocking, though. I didn’t sleep much. I was equal parts a night owl and a morning person. Which meant more than half the time I was running on coffee and prayers.
As I lay in bed, all I could think about was that I couldn’t wait until Monday. For better or worse, I’d be at Florence Bakery, waiting for a cinnamon muffin and Kierra Hughes.
***
The following Monday, I waited at the bakery. Kierra never arrived. I did my best to keep busy. Ramona was still giving me the cold shoulder, but I didn’t mind. If she got her work done, I couldn’t care less about how cold her shoulder was. At least that would’ve been true if Ramona wasn’t half human, half pain in my ass.
“I made you an afternoon tea,” Ramona mentioned, walking into my office. As she set it down, she spilled it over my desk, making me leap up from my chair. I hurriedly gathered the paperwork in front of me, trying to save all I could from the spill.
“Shit, Ramona!” I yipped, snatching up my phone, which was now dripping in tea. “What are you doing? I don’t even drink tea.”
“Oh? You don’t?” she sarcastically asked. “I guess it turns out that I don’t know who you are at all, Mr. Sinclair.”
I groaned.
Well, well, well, will you look at that.
The consequences of my own actions.
“Ramona,” I started.
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair?”
“Why are you calling me Mr. Sinclair?”
“Because I figured calling you ‘dick’ would inappropriate. Almost as inappropriate as you tongue fucking me one weekend and ghosting me the next.”
I blinked at her a few times before nodding. “All right. Mr. Sinclair it is.”
“Oh, fuck off, Gabriel.” She huffed as she turned on her heels and stomped out of my office.
I stared down at the mess on my desk and couldn’t help but blame myself. I was somewhat shocked that Ramona didn’t go with her normal “I was so wasted I can’t remember anything from the night before” routine, but then again if she had gone that route, she wouldn’t have been able to gloat to all the other employees about attending one of Henry Hughes’s parties. It was like she’d tossed a coin on which one mattered more in the moment, and the party of a century was where she’d landed. Which meant I’d receive spilled tea and Ramona’s attitude.
After heading to the kitchen, I grabbed some paper towels and went back to my office to clean up the results of that woman’s scorn.
“Maybe you’ll learn to listen to your mother when she tells you not to mix work with pleasure,” I heard as I wiped up the last of the spill. I looked up to find my mother standing there with a wicked I-told-you-so smirk on her face. Despite her petite figure, she still made me feel like a damn kid when she looked at me like that.
Mom worked for me at GS Architecture. She had been our office manager for the past five years. I told her she should enjoy retirement since she’d been working her whole life. I also told her that she’d never again have to worry about money, seeing how lucky I’d been with my business. The amount of success I’d found over the years was remarkable, and I knew I wouldn’t have had said success without my mom standing in my corner through some of the darkest periods of my life.
If I was successful, she was successful. Easy as that.
Still, she was a hard worker. She wasn’t one to take a handout, so when she said she still wanted to work, it seemed only right to create a position in my office for her. Office manager seemed fitting since how Mom was a professional at managing all things—including me.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I said as I laid out my paperwork to dry. Luckily, none of my blueprints had been out for Ramona to ruin.
Mom shook her head. “You cannot think I’m that naive. I know you and Ramona hooked up.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because Ramona has a terrible time hiding her emotions. I might be old, but I can still put two and two together.” She took a seat across from my desk. “How was the event last night?”
“Interesting, to say the least. Henry Hughes is just what you would imagine him to be.”
“Somewhat of a show-off?” she asked.
“Exactly. Everything’s an event to him.” I pulled out my phone. “He had us take photographs in front of the plot where we’re building. He said it was a good way to manifest his ideal property. Then, he told me a story about how he’d once seen a polar bear while hiking in Alaska.” I turned my phone to show Mom the pictures. The moment she saw them, the small smile on her face faded.
“Who’s that beside him?” she asked. “She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”
“I thought the same thing. It’s his wife, Kierra. It turns out she frequents Florence Bakery. I bet you’ve crossed her path there, too.”
She sat back, still staring at the photograph as if she’d just witnessed a ghost. Then she gave herself a slight shake. “Maybe that’s it.” She handed the phone back to me and smiled once more. “Henry Hughes always seemed like the type to lie about seeing polar bears. Everyone in my book club has at least one of his gadgets in their houses, too. They talk about him as if he’s some kind of saint. When I told them you were designing his home and you’d be going to one of his parties, they all gasped as if they’d fallen into an orgasmic state.”
“The idea of your friends falling into an orgasmic state is something I didn’t need to picture.”
“We’re old but still human, Gabriel. We still love a good o—”
“Mom,” I urged. “Please don’t. It makes me wonder what kind of books you’re reading in said book club.”
“The ones that always end with happy endings. No cliff-hangers at all. All pleasure, no edging.”
For fuck’s sake, did my mother just use the word edging ?
Was I somehow still sleeping and stuck in an awful nightmare?
“Okay, Mom. That’s enough.”
She leaned in toward me and whispered, “I’m talking about erotic books, Gabriel. With happily ever afters, of course. I like my smut with cuddles, if you know what I mean.”
“I need us to never have this conversation again, please.”
She laughed. “How much more work do you have? Do you want to grab an early dinner with me? I’m all done here and thought a nice dinner out might be wonderful.” She always invited me to dinner after she finished work. I always declined.
“I’m actually planning to work late,” I said, walking to sit back in my chair.
“Work, work, work.” She shook her head as she stood. “One day, Gabriel, you’ll join me for dinner. And one day, you’ll have to actually live life instead of living work .”
“My work is my life.”
“I know.” She frowned as she walked around toward me and kissed my forehead. “That’s why I worry. Have a good night. And don’t stay here too long. There’s more outside to see than there is in here. Maybe you could get on one of those dating apps that those youngsters are talking about. Find yourself a nice girl of your own.”
“Mom.”
She tossed her hands up in defeat. “I’m just saying. It wouldn’t hurt for me to have a daughter-in-law someday. One who doesn’t work in our office.”
I smirked. “Lesson learned. Don’t screw at work.”
“Good boy.” Mom started for the door and turned around for a moment. “Gabriel?”
“Yes?”
“You mentioned what you thought of Henry Hughes, but what did you think of his wife when you met her? Other than her seeming familiar.”
“Oh, well, I thought she was…kind.”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “Kind? That’s it? That’s all you felt?”
“Yes,” I replied. “She was kind.”
And beautiful, and charming, and funny, and clever, and smart, and yes…
Kind.