CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The entire trip was surreal to Ricki. From riding in that limousine to the airfield, to boarding his huge, private jet and flying into Washington, DC, all the way until they were driving up to the Watergate where Vince told her he owned a penthouse apartment.
Ricki was floored as the limo stopped and the driver got out. “Are you telling me that you live here? That you actually live at the Watergate?”
Vince smiled. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Just so I’m clear,” said Ricki. “This is THE Watergate? As in Richard Nixon and Woodward and Bernstein and All the President’s Men Watergate?”
George Grantham, who had bummed a ride with them and who also lived at The Watergate, laughed. “Such innocence!” he said. “What on earth is she doing with you?”
“Goodbye George,” Vince said, and George, still laughing, got out of the limo and made his way inside.
Vince looked at Ricki. “Yes, Rasheda,” he said, “this is that infamous place. Although it was in the office complex of The Watergate, not the apartments, where the break-in occurred.”
When Ricki still looked confused, Vince explained. “The Watergate is a complex filled with offices, a hotel, and apartments. I live in the apartments.”
“Oh,” said Ricki, nodding her head. “Got it.” But then she thought of something else she’d been forgetting to ask him. “Another thing,” she said.
Vince smiled. “No, I don’t visit the office where it happened.”
Ricki frowned. “That’ll be creepy. Why would you do that?”
Vince laughed. “What’s your question?”
“Who’s Bachman?”
Vince nodded. A reasonable question. “He used to be my partner. We started Fontaine-Bachman together when we were nineteen years old. He died in a ski accident when he was only twenty-three. In his memory, I didn’t remove his name.”
Ricki nodded. “That is so nice of you, Vince.”
“Don’t tell any of my employees I’m nice. I’m doomed if they ever think that. Now let’s go inside.”
But as they got out of the limo, she was still in awe.
But when his butler opened the door for them and they entered his penthouse apartment and she saw a team of what Vince called stylists waiting beside racks and racks of designer clothing and designer shoes and all kinds of designer handbags, she looked at Vince. “What’s this about?”
And just like that, Vince realized his error. “Give us a moment,” he said to the stylist and her team of assistants. Without a word, they quickly went out into the corridor, closing the door behind them.
Vince looked at Ricki. He wanted to find a way to say what he knew he needed to finally say to her, but without using those traditional words. “You’re with me now,” he decided to say.
He wanted to continue talking, but Ricki being Ricki wasn’t about to let him spring something that odd on her and keep it moving. “I’m with you now?” she asked him.
“That’s right.”
“But what does that mean?”
Who was he kidding? There was no way in hell Rasheda Richardson was going to let him get away with his little hear what I mean to say without me saying it scheme. He had to bring it correct with Rasheda, or not at all. “You’re my lady. My girlfriend,” he said.
Inwardly, Ricki was filled with joy. But outwardly she looked as if she had missed something. “I am?”
“Yes, you are.” But her look irritated Vince. “What are you looking like that for?”
“I don’t recall you asking me to be your girlfriend. Or did I miss that conversation?”
Vince smiled. “Smart ass,” he said. “Always holding my feet to the fire.”
She smiled, too, because that was exactly what she was doing.
Vince respected her for not letting him skate by the way every woman he’d ever been with would easily do. And that was why his look turned serious, and he placed his hands on her arms and pulled her closer.
He looked deep into her eyes. “You’ve made me do what I can only describe as the impossible, Rasheda,” he said to her.
That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear from him at all! And it concerned her. “I made you do it? What did I make you do?”
“Despite your sassy mouth, and your sassy attitude,” Vince continued, “and despite the way you get on my last nerve over and over again, you have managed to make me do something I’ve never done before in my life.
” It was getting real for him, and his heart was hammering. “You’ve made me fall in love with you.”
Now that was what she wanted to hear! But was it sincere? “I made you fall,” she asked him, “or did you want to fall in love with me?”
“I didn’t want to fall in love with anybody,” Vince quickly shot back. “And especially not your sassy ass.”
Ricki grinned. She knew what he meant.
“But in your case,” he said, still serious, “it couldn’t be helped.”
“But have you fallen and you can’t get up,” she began asking.
“Oh for crying out loud, Rasheda!” he interrupted her. “What’s with you and the twenty questions?”
But Ricki was serious. He had to have buy-in too. She wasn’t going to let him put it all on her. “Have you fallen and you can’t get up,” she asked again, “or have you fallen and you don’t wanna get up?”
It was a great question. She was even sharper than he thought she was. Which only heightened his respect for her. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve fallen and I don’t want to get up.” Then he exhaled. This was huge for him. “I love you, Rasheda,” he said to her.
And only when he said those actual three words, straight with no chaser, did her heart melt. And she smiled too. And tears of joy appeared in her eyes. “I love you too, Vincent,” she said, even as he was pulling her into his arms.
Vince’s eyes were watery too, but he made certain she didn’t see any sign of water anywhere near his eyes by the time they stopped embracing. He’d already exposed his soul to her. That was enough!
“The reason you see all of these clothes and shoes and pocketbooks, and even lingerie,” he added, “is because it’s time.”
“Time? Time for what?”
“I know it’s early. I know we’re just getting started. But I don’t see the point in delaying it. Tonight will be an excellent time for me to introduce you to some of the people in my circle.”
“And I’ve got to look the part?”
“No,” he said firmly. “There’s no part to look.
And I don’t need you to fit in either. But I want to give you the best. You can take it or leave it.
You can select from these outfits, or you can wear what you bought from that store in Milton.
From that Walmart place. It’s entirely up to you.
Not me. And certainly not the stylist. It’s up to you. ”
“Are you saying that I can decide to wear my Walmart clothes around your friends rather than all of these Dior and Prada clothes, and all of these Chanel and Hermes bags, and all of these Christian Louboutin shoes?”
Vince nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s wholly up to you. Which do you prefer?”
“Let me see,” said Ricki, her face a mask of anguish. “I have my Walmart clothes on the one hand, and Chanel and Dior on the other hand?”
“That’s right.”
She pushed Vince aside and hurried to those racks of designer clothes. “Boy get out of my way! Do I look like I’m crazy to you?”
Vince burst into laughter.
“Get that lady back in here,” Ricki said as she began checking out the clothes. “I may need help picking out which dress goes best with which handbag, but I don’t need a psychiatrist!”
Vince was laughing so hard he had to bend over.
Which made Ricki start grinning too. “Like I’m gonna choose Walmart over all these beautiful clothes. Like I’m that stupid. Boy bye!” she said, and Vince laughed even harder.
It was the best laugh he’d had in years.