6. The Chronicles of Openness
six
Chad
By the end of Monday, my team had gotten me a private appointment with Kaira Bradley for Tuesday evening. As per my request, the meeting was to be held at her house, away from the stuffy, judgmental foundation team and their prying ears.
On Tuesday, I went about my day as usual. After my two-hour workout with my trainer, my hot bath was waiting for me. Aromatic therapy was in place, accompanied by the calming music I enjoyed as my muscles recovered. Following that, I had lunch with some friends, held a couple of meetings, then got ready for Kaira.
As I lounged in the backseat of one of my cars, I contemplated a suitable start for my conversation with the woman who had already surprised me once. Yes, I didn’t expect her to be the first to vote me in. And now that she had, I needed to get to know her better without making it too obvious.
“Hello, Mr. Niles,” her house manager said as she let me in. “Please, follow me. Miss Bradley will be down in a few minutes.”
I followed in the woman’s steps, watching her open a door that had been closed when I was here for the party. It led to a quasi-office, but nothing similar to the study upstairs. Stepping in, I admired the indirect light that dimly yet efficiently lit up every corner. There was another chess set situated between two large armchairs, however, this one didn’t look like an antique; it must have been here for actual use.
The window across took up the entire wall, overlooking the pool garden, a backdrop to an Andalusian-style chaise lounge. On second glance, I noticed that everything in the room had an old Moroccan-Spanish air to it. The Arabian rug; the details in the wood; even the copper light fixtures. Sitting down, I heard the woman ask, “Can I offer you a refreshment?”
My eyes immediately went to the classic wine and bar cabinet in the corner. “Uh—No, thanks.”
“Mr. Niles.” My eyes followed Kaira’s voice to the source, standing at the door, smiling. She was wearing a long dress with long, wide sleeves, and had her hair up in a bun. “Thanks, Miriam. I’ll take it from here.”
“Excuse me.” The woman left the room, her air replaced by Kaira’s overpowering presence.
Standing up, I offered my hand. “Thanks for taking the time to see me.”
As she shook my hand, her eyes remained focused on mine. “I didn’t seem to have a choice. Your team made it sound important.”
“It is.” I nodded, watching her walk toward the many bottles in the corner. “I like to achieve a certain amount of candidness with whoever I’m working with.”
“In film, perhaps, that’s important. Drink?”
“Uh—I’ll have a whiskey. On the rocks.” My eyes followed her graceful movements, and the sway of her long, flowing dress. “Tell me this set is being used.”
She turned to glance at the chess set, and a soft chuckle flew out of her lips. Finally, she was amused. “This is where I spend most of my free time. So, yes. It is.”
“Do you win every time?” I took the glass from her hand and noticed that she was drinking the same thing, only adding a twist to hers.
As she chose the chair across from me, she softly shrugged while descending. “That would make it boring, don’t you think?”
“Some people find comfort in the familiar. They go to the same places, order the same food, and never change their drink.”
Her eyes reflected an understanding look, although slightly disappointed if I was accurate in my reading. “You believe I’m one of those people.”
“I barely know you.”
“You’re thinking it, nonetheless.”
“Actually…” Leaning back, I placed one leg over the other. “I was pleasantly surprised when you were the first to vote for me.” She gave me a calculated smile and said nothing. I then took a sip of my drink, furrowing my eyebrows in appreciation as my eyes examined the golden liquid.
“What would you like to discuss this evening, Mr. Niles?” The look in her eyes was a no-bullshit, get-to-the-point sort of stare.
“Well, since we’re being candid… I have the feeling that I get under your skin somehow. And even though you welcomed my initiative, the very air around you tells me that you want me out of here as quickly as possible.”
A brief titter escaped her lips, but her eyes weren’t smiling. If anything, I thought I caught a glimmer of awkwardness in them. Her fingers, with their long, almond-shaped nails, clutched her glass a little tighter. “I apologize if anything I did conveyed—”
“No, no, no,” I quickly and sternly raised my hand, leaning forward in my seat. “I respect people like you; those who can easily speak the truth without worrying about judgment. Please, I welcome honesty.”
“I—I…”
“You disapprove of my lifestyle, maybe? The womanizer profile, ironically, isn’t a friend to most women.”
“Mr. Niles—”
“No, it’s okay. I get it.” Standing up, I slowly walked toward the chess set, extending my hand as I did. As I moved the first white pawn, I was aware of her gaze following my hand. “It’s just that I find myself strangely drawn to you, is all.”
“Mr. Niles.” No longer apologetic, her tone was now berating.
“What?” I walked around to the other side of the set, moving a black pawn. “I thought I declared candidness.” I paused, looking at her while my legs took me back to the white side. “I bet you secretly find me attractive. But a woman like you, with so much at stake, would never admit it to a man she only just met.” I knew I was pushing it, but what did I have to lose? Her foundation needed me, and she knew it.
“Mr. Niles.” She stood up, and I realized that she was now holding an empty glass, ice clanking against the crystal walls of its container. Something about that didn’t feel right. “It would appear that years of work in Hollywood didn’t paint an unrealistic picture in your mind… about how to talk to a woman.”
“Did I offend you?”
She walked to the cabinet and crouched down slightly. The skirt of her dress blocked my view for a second. When she held up her hands, I could see a bottle of wine and the opener she skillfully used on the cork. “Your simplicity doesn’t offend me.”
Oh, now I was offended. “Simplicity.” I forced out a chuckle. “Careful now, Kaira.”
She turned to face me, her hands frozen in the air with the half-tilted bottle and the fresh wine glass. “Chadwick? Or would you rather I called you Chad?”
“I genuinely thought that there’s more depth to your insightfulness.”
“And a shallowness to my directness, no?” Her eyes were challenging me, as if to push me over the edge and make me angry—make me leave and quit the whole thing. It was getting hotter, or so I felt. Pointing to the window, I asked, “Does this open?”
“Oh, even better.” She smiled, walking toward the corner by the window that I hadn’t even noticed. There was a small glass door, the knob of which she twisted. “Would you rather sit outside?”
It wasn’t really a question, since she pushed open the door and slipped out, walking toward a poolside pergola with the same Arabic elements. Wordlessly, I watched her leave her shoes behind and sit on the edge of the mattress, gazing at the pool.
Why did I follow her out? Wasn’t it clear that she despised me?
“In every film scene that builds up like this,” she said, as if pensively… as if to herself. “The tension between the characters is what sucks in our attention. It’s as if everything they’re saying, every move they make, is leading up to a kiss and a steamy scene underwater.”
So, she was negating that possibility. “Not necessarily,” I said as I approached the pool, making sure to choose the chaise lounge all the way across, leaving feet of turquoise water between us.
“Can you honestly say that it wasn’t the first thing that came to your mind?”
Sitting down, I chuckled, letting go of all filters as I sensed that that was precisely what she wanted. “Honestly, it’s impossible for me to see you in that light right now.”
“Because you’re angry with me?”
I took a sip of my beverage. “Because you’re making it impossible. You’re hostile, Kaira. You make sure of it.”
“Well, then. Now that you know it’s nothing personal—I don’t hate you per se. Did you get what you wanted from your visit?”
“I was hoping we could be friends.”
“Who says we’re not?”
“I’m not this uncomfortable with a friend.”
“Aren’t you one of the lucky ones, then?”
The look in her eyes let me know that she wasn’t exaggerating. “Are you ever yourself?”
“Of course. When I’m by myself.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“That’s what responsibility does to a person.”
My chortle came out cynical. “Careful, you’re starting to sound patronizing.”
“I’m not trying to dispute your sense of responsibility—”
“It’s how it’s coming out,” I quickly said. Through her concealed, hinted accusations, she was pulling me—forcing me—to resort to a more philosophical approach to defend my ways. I didn’t like that one bit.
“Mr. Niles, you’re the one who asked for this meeting. And I’m the one still lost about its purpose.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine, narrowing her eyes as she looked away. When she turned to me, her face was completely emotionless. “Are you attracted to me, Mr. Niles? Is that what’s clouding the potential of our partnership?”
Her question should have surprised me. But then again, I was the one who waltzed in here, advocating transparency. Throwing back my head, I chugged down what was left of my drink before lowering the glass somewhat dramatically. “You do realize that you are, somehow, trying to beat around the bush… camouflaging it as a quest for honesty.”
“How so?”
Standing up, I slowly made my way over to where she sat, leaning closely to her face while my eyes pierced through hers. My hand aimed for the wine bottle she had sat down on the tiled floor next to her foot, but I enjoyed the proximity. Her eyes said nothing. As my fingers grabbed the bottle, I felt my breath bounce back from her face to mine. “Because your mixed signals aren’t lost on me.”
Springing back up, I generously poured some wine into my whiskey glass, feeling the heat of her dismay burn a hole in my hands.
“This has nothing to do with the foundation, does it?” she finally asked as I turned around, heading back to my seat away from her.
“Not really,” I admitted without glancing backward. “I’m just trying to understand you… and the reasons why I can’t get you out of my head.”
“I can’t help you with the latter.”
Sitting down, I placed each leg on either side of the chaise lounge, leaving my legs open wide in front of her. “And the first point?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t take one conversation to understand a person.”
I sighed, making it audible and sharp. “You’re saying you can’t help me at all.”
“Perhaps.”
“You’re wrong.” She tilted her head, staring at me with apparent curiosity in her eyes. Something inside told me that she knew exactly what I was talking about. “You only enjoy playing this game.”
Her face turned serious. “I assure you, Mr. Niles, I don’t have time for—”
“Games? Fun? A sincere human encounter?”
Her voice jumped up a notch. “My life is filled with sincere human encounters, Mr. Niles. And I do not appreciate what you’re insinuating. Nor do I enjoy your idea of forcing me into a corner.”
“I am not so na?ve as to believe that there’s a corner big enough to contain you.”
And then she smiled… was it a victory smile? Or a gesture aimed at confusing me?