Chapter Twenty-Three
F or Artur, things were getting what he considered…tangible.
The cycle of events were getting clearer, on schedules and timelines starting in two weeks. And as for his life? He was going to Liv’s parents for Shabbat dinner the next Friday, after she came to Abe’s on Tuesday.
Which meant he was making plans and ideas and wondering about going to go visit the garage. His car needed cleaning and this was about the only time he was going to have. Abe had grinned at him when he mentioned it.
But not just a normal grin; the ‘there’s something you’re missing’ grin. “Spill it,” he said.
Amidst breakfast dishes and coffee cups, Abe made his proclamation. “You know, you should really think about taking her for a drive.”
He gasped, almost dropping his coffee mug.
“I mean seriously,” his best friend pointed out. “If this woman matters to you, then you’re going to have to eventually tell her about your car and maybe let her inside.”
“But I…never.”
“Never doesn’t matter when you’ve got someone like her. Remember. This isn’t something I care too much about, but you do. And she will.”
“Why would she care?”
“Because she cares about you, you ridiculous pinochle,” said Batya from the other room as she came to join them. “I care about his smoking and his sauces. She’ll care about your car and taking a drive with you.”
Looking from Abe to Batya reminded him that they might know something about relationships and how important it was to build strong foundations with truth and not secrets.
“Okay,” he said. “You’re right. I’ll call her.”
In an hour he was in front of her house, glad she was free on this Saturday morning. “You ready?”
She nodded. “I am.”
Of course, there was traffic. “We’re driving to the city to go for a drive?”
He nodded. “I have…another car,” he said. “This is…my usual day-to-day car. The car we’re going to take a drive in is…my stress relief. It’s… I’ve always been interested in cars as a hobby. Driving, going places. For whatever reason.”
“Okay?”
“Anyway,” he continued, “when they sold the Rivertown house, my parents gave me part of the money because of a birthday or whatever. Something. I got this one…the one that’s waiting for us, I mean, when I got back to the States after the project I was doing.”
She nodded, sat back against the seat as if she was going to analyze what he’d said and make it part of her own thoughts. “Okay,” she said finally, making him nervous.
When they finally pulled into the owner spot in the climate-controlled garage, next to the vehicle under cover, his heart got stuck in his throat.
“You ready?” she asked.
He could clearly see the concern on her face. And he knew he definitely wasn’t ready.
And yet if he continued to wait, he didn’t think he’d ever be ready .
But for Liv? For the sake of what they were building? He’d try.
He opened the driver’s side door, and motioned for her to follow him out of the car.
“Wait here,” he said.
She nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
He took a deep breath, headed over to the cover and removed it, carefully, easily, waiting as she watched him.
And when it was finally off, he turned in her direction.
“This…”
He didn’t know what she expected; the German sportscar sat gleaming before them, the sun coming through a window, setting off the beautifully polished paint job.
“As I told you, it’s my stress relief,” he said, stopping her from saying anything else. “I don’t…let anybody in. At all. Not even my best friend.”
He could see the disbelief run across her face before she tamped it down. “I’m…wow.”
“Impressed? Mortified? Disgusted? Excited?”
“Not disgusted or mortified, that’s for sure,” she said, the words coming slowly as if she’d gathered them out of the ether when she needed them. “But I think the best way to think about it is that I’m…surprised. But yet not surprised.”
She surprised the ever-loving crap out of him on a semi-regular basis. This was yet another one of those times.
“What…where did that come from?” he asked. “I mean why…?”
“I always drive,” she said. “I mean us.”
Which is something he thought about; if they were going somewhere together, she drove, otherwise he met her. “Which is true.”
“And that’s not to say I have a problem driving,” she continued. “Honestly, I don’t mind it at all.”
And yet it sounded like she wasn’t done talking; the sentence wasn’t done. “But?”
“That’s the thing that I couldn’t put a finger on. You’ve never struck me as the type who doesn’t…like driving, even though I understand the times when you say you don’t drive because you’re not familiar with the area and I am. Which meant there was something there.”
He looked at her, stepped toward her as if drawn by a force outside of his control. “I need to kiss you,” he said.
“Go right ahead,” she said. “My lips are…”
And he cut her off, his lips finding hers, his hands, his mouth, showing her how important this moment was to him. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t waste time, buffing the car exterior quickly and preparing for a drive.
“Let’s go,” he said. And quicker than he’d expected, she was in his car. In the passenger seat, looking like she belonged there.
Which she did.
Which was still awkward to him, even though it wasn’t bad. Instead, it was an awkward he looked forward to getting used to.
*
Artur had a car.
A ridiculously expensive sports car that he kept in a climate-controlled garage. Which he washed as stress relief. The leather she sat in was butter-soft, and the whole thing felt like a dream.
The man had layers, and instead of these layers putting Liv off, they pulled her in.
“Ask me anything,” he invited as he drove toward the west side highway.
And that was the statement he made when she couldn’t see his face? Did he want to hide his thoughts and expressions?
But there were many things she wanted to know about him. So many holes she wanted to fill.
But she went for the easiest one.
“How did you get into what you do?”
He took a deep breath as he drove, the fast car flying down the streets of New York. “Friend of mine from college had a relationship end. I don’t remember the details anymore. But there weren’t bad feelings on either side. He continued to live his life, you know. Doing what he does.”
She didn’t want to interrupt to ask what his friend did; from the way it sounded, the friend was some kind of creative.
“Well,” he continued, “it turned out that wasn’t the end of things. Because everybody who spoke to his ex, would ask questions about the end of the relationship and about him. They painted her as unserious, using him as the latest example of how she was a serial dater.”
Yep. She got the hint that this was probably something she was supposed to know about. But the pressure, the situation made sense, for many reasons. Partially because it was her worst nightmare. But she wasn’t telling him that. Instead the situation required something else.
“Ughhh. I hate that. I hate that the world is like that. So what happened?”
“My friend hated it too,” he said. “Drove him absolutely nuts. He wanted to do something about it, but wasn’t sure what to do and didn’t want her to think he was trying to get attention off the end of the relationship. His goal, once he organized himself, was to take the heat off of her.”
Which was a noble thought. Not many people would have thought like that.
“So,” she asked, having organized herself again, “he called you?”
He nodded as they continued on their journey. “He just called me to talk, but he and I ended up working out a plan, and his team followed our script.”
He hummed something, and she wasn’t sure what it was. But he continued humming.
Clearly he wanted her to figure out the song… Images came to mind; a melody on an acoustic guitar.
And a music video opening with guy sitting behind a curtain watching a television. If she remembered correctly, the TV showed a young woman who was trying to escape a maze, covered in newspapers and stickers saying ‘serial dater’ in red letters. She was being yelled at with every step she took.
And the song started playing in her mind:
I could hide behind the curtains, let the world go on without
But then your path is tempest tossed,
full of thorns you don’t deserve.
I know…the world does not make sense.
So I will take a step; step out into the world and
Be the one they talk to
instead of talk about.
I’ll make sure that they know…you’re the one for someone
even though you’ve never been for me.
I will take the heat and clean up all the thorns
because I’ve got a shield, a sword and a decent pair of shoes.
So you can be the good girl; I will be the bad boy.
Of course.
“Bad boy.” By Chaim Marcus.
His first big solo single.
Naomi had been a huge fan of Zack Weisler’s and Chaim’s around the time of the beginning of their careers, and her sister had spent hours telling her about how much she loved Chaim for standing between his famous ex, Christi Quick, and the press.
Which meant that she knew the whole story behind the song, and the fact that Chaim Marcus’s actions had quashed the conversation about his relationship with his ex, and let her be.
No ex of Christi Quick’s since Chaim had done it; whether it was about her or about Chaim himself, who knew. But it stuck in her head.
“Yep,” Artur said, breaking into her train of thought and confirming it without even saying anything. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re right. Because the plan turned out to be impressive enough so people behind the scenes who knew about all of this asked whose idea it was, or more specifically who had directed the whole thing. My friend spoke up, said it was me. Not long after, I got offered a job by my friend’s record label. And considering I enjoyed the process and the chase of the perfect solution, I took it.”
She nodded. “So,” she asked, still unfamiliar with the boundaries of his career. “Do you work with personal scandals?”
“Mostly corporate messes,” he said as he drove them around a curve. “I’m not a political fixer. I’m not someone who’s going to examine skeletons in people’s closets or governmental secrets. It’s my job to tell the PR people how to do their job after they messed up.”
Which made sense, going back to why they met in the first place. “You,” she said with a smile, “are an interesting guy. And I’m very lucky I know you.”
The smile on his face was priceless, and she couldn’t wait to kiss it off of him.