Chapter 20
LILA
Friday
At work
“How do you feel?” Keira asks.
I move my phone from one ear to the other, keeping an eye on the store door.
My bones hurt.
“I feel good,” I say, not mentioning the pain.
A sweet, loving ache has been living inside me since we fucked the other night.
The memory of us together has stayed with me too.
Call it luck, but neither of them returned home.
I almost missed work yesterday because I fell asleep after Damon left. I was convinced the staff would be in the house, and I’d wake up without a problem.
The opposite happened. I slept in, and I was late, not to mention that my voice was hoarse, and I looked like I snoozed off in the back of a minivan.
Today I’m a little bit better, but my voice is still raspy.
Some things happened after I left Keira’s place on Tuesday night.
Unexpected things.
“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” she asks.
“Absolutely. Are you?”
I try to smile, but the soreness in my neck punishes me.
She laughs at the other end of the line, while I prop a shoulder against the wall, watching the world go by.
You can tell it’s summer. Fewer people are out and about.
“I don’t know what to say. It’s kind of new to me,” she says.
Nicky asked her out.
Yes, that Nicky. The Benjamin Nicky decided to take a break from timidness and ask Keira out. The three of them had drinks after I left, and they chatted for a while––that’s what she says.
And then Jeff left, and Nicky lingered a little longer.
One thing led to another. She started talking about me, then asked him what he’d thought about me, and then he felt pressured to admit that he’d always been more attracted to her than he had been attracted to me.
I have to give it to him.
At least he was honest.
“They’re all new in the beginning,” I comment.
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“I know what you were saying. As someone who has always opted for this type of man, I can assure you they’re worthy of your time. He’s no exception.”
“What about you?”
The silence thickens as I get flashbacks from the other night.
You can call Damon West anything but shy. He is the opposite of timid. He’s a new type of man for me, too, although what’s going on between us can hardly be called dating. It’s an experience, a story with a dark twist, maybe more than anything a disaster waiting to happen.
It’s so many things, except for a date. I’m not so sure men like him know how to date. I try to imagine him asking someone out.
Would he fuck that woman before dinner? In the restaurant bathroom?
In his car? Would he book a hotel room? Go to her place? Or straight out take her to his place and keep her locked?
So little time, so many choices.
A smile tickles my lips.
“Lila?”
“Huh?”
“I wasn’t sure you were still there.”
“What were you asking again?”
“I was asking you whether you’re still interested in getting a new man?”
“I’m working on it,” I say, with a smile.
“Are you seeing someone right now?”
“Sort of.”
“Care to share?”
“I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t want to jinx it. On top of that… I’ve got a new customer,” I say, watching a mom and her five-year-old climb out of a car and heading my way.
“All right. Talk to you later.”
We hang up, and I go back to the counter before the bell above the door chimes, and I greet them with a smile.
LILA
I go straight home after work.
I shower and go to bed, hoping to take a nap instead of waking up in the middle of the night.
No such luck.
It’s dark outside when I open my eyes.
The reflection of the pool moves over the ceiling like a giant cloud of northern lights, bluish-green ribbons woven with a sprinkle of fire.
I’ll miss this view in New York.
As much as I love my Brooklyn apartment, the fact that there are so many things to do and so many places to visit grows on me.
I push upright and slide off the bed, searching for my slippers.
Faint voices drift through the house.
Livia is still here, so it can’t be that late.
I pick up the phone and check the time. It’s only nine. She’s probably getting ready to leave.
Maybe I should go downstairs and have dinner while she’s here. It’s been a little spooky here lately with no one in the house but me.
I usually avoid coming home too early.
And despite what Damon said, I can’t feel at home when he’s not here. I feel like I’ve trespassed his property.
It’s not easy to feel comfortable here, and it’s not because I’m alone. It’s because Henrietta lives in the house, and whatever arrangement they have now, they also have history together.
She’s very much part of his life, and whether he used to own this property when they were together for real makes little difference to me.
It’s even worse if he did.
I toss a robe over my pajamas and head to the first floor.
Livia is in the kitchen, talking on the phone.
“Yes, sir.”
The seriousness in her voice makes me stop and step back before hiding next to the door outside.
“As you say, sir.”
Is Livia pissed?
I’ve never heard her talk like that to anyone, let alone him.
“When should I do that?”
A few moments pass.
“Is she coming home tonight?”
She?
Are they talking about Henrietta?
“Oh. Okay, sir.”
That makes me think he said no. She’s not coming home tonight. The tension in her voice fades.
“I’ll do that right away. Does she know about it?”
A few seconds pass.
“Perfect. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Okay. So whatever he asked her to do took her by surprise.
Her footsteps ring across the kitchen, so I pull farther away and hide around a corner. She exits the kitchen when someone else’s footsteps echo not far from me.
It’s one of the housemaids.
“Flora?” Livia calls.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Go to Miss Henrietta’s room, pack up her things, and wait for me.”
My heart skips a beat.
Um… What? Where is Henrietta going?
I hope they’re not splitting up, or getting a divorce. Because where she goes, I’ll need to go.
There’s no way around it. Is he aware of that?
He must be.
So, what are they doing?
Something happened to Henrietta?
“Is she all right?” Flora asks.
Right on time.
We’re both waiting for an answer.
“She’s fine. She’ll live in the guesthouse from now on.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah.”
“Trouble in paradise?” the younger woman asks.
“These things happen,” Livia comments with icicles in her voice. “At least, I don’t need to break the news to her,” she murmurs mostly to herself.
“She doesn’t know about this new arrangement?”
“I think she does,” Livia says dryly. “It’s not our business what they do or don’t do. Go back to work.”
Flora’s footsteps trail up the stairs while Livia ponders for a moment before turning around and walking into the kitchen.
After mulling over my options, I make a beeline to the same room.
“Oh, hi,” I say, walking in.
Livia stands by the kitchen island, peering at her phone.
She glances at me before shifting her focus back to her phone.
“Things all right?” I ask, opening the refrigerator and scooping out a bottle of water.
“Everything’s just fine.”
Someone’s in a bad mood.
Is she blaming me for all this? Does she think I have something to do with Henrietta’s removal from the house?
I hope not.
I twist the cap and take a sip, my eyes on her.
She glances at me again.
“Dinner is in the oven,” she says evenly.
She tilts her chin in that direction.
Maybe she wasn’t even thinking about me.
“Thank you.”
I walk to the oven, open the door, and check the lasagna tray.
“Mmm. It looks delicious.” It’s untouched. “Did they cook that especially for me?”
“Yes, they did.”
She tucks her phone into her pocket and looks at me.
Something’s off.
“Is it a special day? A celebration?” I go on.
“I don’t know,” she says. “He ordered it.”
“He?”
She tilts her head down, her eyes still connected with mine.
“Is he in town?”
“He just got back.”
“Where is he?”
“I have no idea.”
This exchange sounds more and more like us having an argument.
I move closer to her, close my robe, and set my water down.
“Is something wrong? You seem upset,” I say.
The woman’s eyes glint with conflicting feelings.
“Truthfully, I’m not. I never liked that woman,” she says.
“Who are we talking about?”
A small smile tilts her lips.
“Henrietta, who else?”
I fold my arms over my chest, tilt my head back, and look at her expectantly.
“You must’ve heard me talking on the phone with him.”
I say nothing.
“I’m more upset with you that you’re about to piss your life away,” she goes on.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me right.”
Livia is about my mother’s age, had my mother been alive. She looks stern, unlike my mother, which is not unusual considering that she runs this house.
I’m shocked that she has an opinion on my life. This could cost her her job.
I don’t think Damon would take it lightly if he knew his housekeeper had an opinion on us.
“How old are you? Twenty-two, twenty-three?”
“Something like that.”
“He’ll burn you down, and you won’t be any good for any other man.”
I open my mouth. Her finger goes up.
“And please don’t tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve lived longer than you have. I’ve seen this kind of thing happening before.”
“I never asked to live in this house. It was my father’s idea.”
“What it was and what it is are two different things.”
“I did nothing.”
“And that’s the problem. You should’ve stopped him.”
My mouth falls open.
“Stop him from doing what?’
“From messing with your head. You think this is only a fling?”
“Have I missed the conversation in which we were talking about anything happening between us?” I ask.
She dismisses me with a clipped gesture.
“I don’t need to see it, so that I know it. He’s moving her out of his house.”
“She’s still here.”
“Do you know where the guesthouse is?’
“On the property, I suppose.”
“It’s half a mile away from here.”
I bite my lip.
“Yeah, right,” she goes on.
“She must be okay with it,” I say.
“I don’t think she has a say in this.”
“Tell me more.”
“You’re cheeky now, and you have no reason to be.”
“You know I could tell him about our conversation.”
“Go ahead. Do it. I’m only doing you a favor here.”
“You’re also questioning his judgment.”
“I’m not questioning his judgment. He does what any man would do if he were in his shoes. This story is as old as time.”
I ponder my next question.
“What’s your problem, Livia? You don’t like me? You don’t like him? You don’t like your job?”
“I have no problem with either of you, and I love my job.”
“What is it, then?”
She closes the space between us.
“I had a daughter just like you.”
“Had?”
“She’s a shell of her former self.”
“I’m sorry.”
I have a feeling I know what she’ll say next.
“I’ll spare you the details,” she continues.
“He wasn’t even like him. He was a nice guy.
An engineer. Can you imagine that? He was so obsessed with her that he had to sweep her off her feet.
Then he met someone else and broke up with her.
It ruined her so badly, she could never go back to who she was before him. ”
“Again, I’m so sorry. I can assure you there’s nothing bad in this story.”
“She said the exact same thing when I warned her that she could get in trouble.”
There’s nothing else for me to say.
“Good. Finally, you got the message,” she says. “You do whatever you wish, but keep in mind that this is not the only thing that matters in life. He might be gone from your life one day, giving his attention to someone else. Don’t believe for a second that you owe him your life, because you don’t.”
With that she moves away from me, and I check the lasagna tray again before realizing that I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll most likely go downtown and eat something at my favorite burger joint.