5. River
Chapter Five
RIVER
I haven’t heard from Mr. Kelly since he left, and Andrea wasn’t here much longer. Around noon, a grocery delivery service appeared with enough food to stock the pantry and refrigerator. I’d just finished putting everything where I thought it belonged when a courier appeared with items from the list I gave Mr. Kelly. Underwear, a few basic outfits, and hair products. I’d hoped it would be something that Andrea could solve before the day is out, but it looks like I have a week's worth of stuff here.
They must be planning to hunt down Mario. Andrea took my phone on his way out and left me with a burner flip phone. It’s for emergencies and only has his and Theodore’s phone numbers. Plopping down on the couch, I release what feels like my hundredth sigh. When I left Atlanta to pursue my dream, I didn’t think it’d land me in the penthouse of my boss—whose wife hates me—while I hide out from a thug who my ex owes. It’s an entire mess.
I made a sandwich for lunch, but my mind is still uneasy. The television doesn’t hold my interest so I decide to participate in the most time-consuming activity I can think of in an immaculate house. Laying out the products, I’m happy to discover he’d gotten things from my wish list as well. There were two lists: the basics and the ultimate list. In the ultimate list, there were things I could use to silk press my hair if need be. Sometimes I like to straighten it to see how long it’s gotten and now is the best time to do so. I spend the next few hours cleaning, deep conditioning, and straightening my hair. I know there are quicker ways, but I use the silk press method because if I’m going to take the time to straighten it, I expect it to stay that way for a few days.
The sun is setting, and my stomach is growling by the time I finish the process. My hair now falls mid back and it’s weird to have it flowing. I’m used to the puff, so I shiver every time it brushes the back of my neck. I look in the mirror at the shiny, black tresses and consider putting them up. Tilting my head from left to right, I change my mind. I didn’t do all this work for nothing. Forgetting it was taken away, I spend at least five minutes looking for my phone before I realize that I will not be snapping pictures and posting them on the internet today.
Instead of getting upset, I focus on what I can control. The kitchen is beautiful and a stark reminder that I may never be able to own one like it. It has a low-profile design with the refrigerator and cabinets being flush with the wall but still boasts a lot of space. I find salmon, orange juice, soy sauce, and ginger in the refrigerator. I make a sauce for the salmon with the ingredients and let it marinade for a bit while I prepare the fresh green beans and put the potatoes on the boil. If my mom taught me nothing else, it was how to feed myself.
The potatoes and the green beans cook while I pan sear both sides of the salmon filets, then put them to finish in the oven. I hum to myself since I don’t know how to use the music, nor do I want to mess with anything unnecessarily.
Butter and heavy whipping cream come out next. The aroma is heavenly as I mash the potatoes and stir until they’re the perfect amount of creamy. I grab the bowl to deposit on the table, but yelp when a figure appears out of nowhere. Mr. Kelly catches the bowl before it turns into a mess and places it on the table for me.
His hair is styled with his signature part but sleeker and out of his face. A classic black and white tux covers his body, but the bow tie dangles open around his neck. I know I accidentally saw him damn near naked, but there is something intimate about seeing him not quite dressed for an event.
“Smells good,” he tells me as his dark blue eyes rake over the scene.
Worried, I look around to ensure that I haven’t made a huge mess. There are a few dishes, but everything is still intact.
“Thank you.”
I don’t know why I feel out of place and feel the need to fidget with the dish towel in my hands as we stand there in silence. I’m relieved that the timer takes that moment to sound. Turning, I retrieve the fish from the oven, noting that it looks to me like a culinary masterpiece.
Mr. Kelly, who’s now wearing oven mitts, takes the dish from me and places it on a heat protecting rack on the table.
“Hungry?” I offer, since it’s his home and groceries.
He glances at the table and probably sees that I didn’t make single servings. I don’t know how to cook for one. If anything, I know that I’ll have a few days of leftovers.
“If you don’t mind,” he answers after what seems like an internal debate. His eyes are back on me for a beat. “Can I touch your hair?”
“Ah, yeah, um, sure.” I fumble my words because it’s such an unexpected question.
“I know to leave a black woman’s hair alone, but it looks soft…” he trails off as he runs his fingers through it. “It’s as silky as it looks. I bet it took hours.”
I suppress a shiver, then chastise myself when I realize there are two causes for my reaction. I’ve never been this close to him on purpose, and I’m starting to notice things like how good he smells. Plus, flashes of my memory remind me just what’s under the tux. I dip my head to hide any reaction but he’s already retreating to the table.
“Yeah, straightening my hair without chemicals is time consuming.” I sit down across from him with the plates and shrug self-consciously. “But I seem to have plenty of time right now.” He starts serving himself with a nod.
“Andrea will get to the bottom of it.”
My laugh is nervous and sounds foreign to my ears. “I’m sure he will.”
Mr. Kelly has his plate full but doesn’t reach for a fork. He frowns as if he wants to say something but isn’t sure if it’ll offend me.
“I know women change their hair a lot, but I like the puffy style as well.” His eyes find mine again as he gives me a serious look. “Just make sure you do your hair the way you want, never because someone expects you to change it.”
I’d be confused if I didn’t know his wife is mixed with black and the hair issue may come up a lot.
“I like it puffy too,” I assure him. “I only do this to check the length and trim my ends. It’s nice to change it up a little, but the other way is my default setting.”
“Good.”
He flashes me the first genuine smile he’s ever given me, and it alarms me. Dropping my eyes, I start making my plate to take my attention away from him and his older model looks. It may be a deterrent of other thirty-year-olds, but I have a soft spot for the salt-and-pepper look. I need to go back to Atlanta.
“So are you going to your wife’s show after this?”
That’s it, bring it back to his life.
My question appears to stress him out. “No. I’d gotten dressed…but no.” I nod, thinking he’ll drop it, but he continues. “We’re not doing that well and I don’t know why. It seems very one-sided, me rushing to what’s important for her, but I'm not getting that same…energy.”
“Well, I know all about being left hanging.” I slide the joke in there to lighten the mood. His eyes crinkle with his smile. I hate that I like it.
“Literally. Yeah, I think my absence can speak louder than my words. I’ve loved her so much, but my one desire doesn’t seem to matter. I’ve asked her plenty of times to talk to me.” He takes a bite of the salmon and nods with a surprised hum. “This is very good, River.”
It’s weird seeing such a formidable man opening up about his relationship woes. I can see that he loves her. I’d pay to have a man look at me the way I’ve seen him look at Helena. I can imagine how that’d go to her head. I want to ask him what it is, but he’s already shared too much.
“Don’t look so surprised,” I joke. “I know how to cook a few things.”
He holds up a fork that’s loaded with one bite of each item. “This proves it.” His heavy sigh warns me that his purge isn’t over. I’m sure he’s talked about it with Andrea, but a woman always provides a different perspective. “I’ve wanted to be a dad longer than I can remember.” He looks off into space as he thinks about it. “I want to continue my lineage and have heirs to share my legacy.”
“Welp, this is usually the other way around. I will say that.”
He nods with a smile. “Yeah, men are usually the ones pushing away from it, yet I happen to fall for one of the resistant women.”
“Maybe it’s because of the career span for a ballerina,” I add. “It’s a very short-lived career. Motherhood will definitely make it shorter.”
He shakes his head and stands. “I need a drink.”
I perk up at that. “Might I suggest Sauvignon Blanc for the citrus undertones of the meal. If you want to enhance the ginger in it, I’d say Pinot Gris or Riesling.”
He nods, impressed. “Better. Added more to your wine knowledge?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I try to remain versed in libations.”
“That’s why I hired you,” he admits once he returns to the table with Riesling and two wineglasses. “You know your stuff yet still strive for perfection.” He pours both of us generous glasses and takes a sip. The way his brow creases with his thoughts indicates he’s not off his original subject. “Don’t dancers know that their careers can end at any moment and start working towards teaching or building a company of their own?”
“Yes, but some like the spotlight so much that they aren’t prepared to consider that.”
I leave out the part where I tell him I think Helena is that person. This is his marriage, and he needs to speak to a professional whose focus is to keep couples together.
“I’d think I’ve been a generous enough husband for her to express her fears if that is the case.”
I take a sip, using that moment to choose my words carefully. The truth is, I’m attracted to him and can fall in the area of giving him the wrong information. I don’t like Helena so telling him to end it and run would be too easy.
“Sometimes communication issues are based on the fear a person has placed on themselves and has nothing to do with how easy the other person is to talk to, ya know? I’d say find a mediator. STAT. If you’re trying to save your marriage.” I look at his empty plate as he refills his glass of wine. “I know as a bartender I’m a very good listener. I’m willing to listen if you still need to vent, but I need to point out that, with my current situation, I’m probably the worst person to give relationship advice.”
I earn another laugh, more than I’ve gotten all year, but it’s not for me to be his entertainment.
“Yeah, I will. You know how you need to say some things out loud to make sure you’re not crazy?”
I bob my head because I’ve been there. “Yeah, I totally get that. Speaking of crazy, I know and you know we’re practically strangers, but being here with me while skipping her opening night is most likely not the best way to ease her fears from this morning.”
Twisting his mouth, he raps the table with his knuckles a few times. “You’re right.” He stands and finishes his glass. “Sorry about the way she acted today. I’ve never given her a reason to doubt me.” He tilts his head towards the key he gave me. “Despite the rumors.”
I cover my face in embarrassment as he chuckles. When I move my hands, I know that he’s gone. I didn’t hear the elevator near his room ding, but I can feel it.
My life has definitely tilted on its axis, and I don’t know where it’s headed.