Is there something going on there?
I shake off the thoughts of his relationship with her, and instead focus on the task at hand…grabbing a pair of hot pink spin pants and black sports bra. I get dressed quickly and my cell phone rings as I place my feet in a pair of running shoes. With a quick glance at my cell phone, I see Jules is calling. Obviously, who else would it be? No one else calls me.
“Hey, you,” I answer.
“So…how was last night?” She draws out the ‘o’ when she speaks. She’s prepared for details.
“Oh God, don’t even get me started.”
“That bad?” she inquires.
“Yes, that bad.” I look into the bedroom.
“Hold on one second, Jules. Alexandre is out cold in the bed. Let me just get outside so I don’t wake him.”
“Okay, no problem.”
I head out the door, grabbing my bag on the way out.
“Where was I? You know what…the phone might cut out. Let me just call you back when I get out of the elevator, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I press the elevator button to call it and wait. Tapping my foot against the floor, my impatience sets in, but then the door opens. Stepping in, I glance down at my phone. No Service. Seconds later the elevator door opens and my fingers hit the send button to call Jules back.
“Hey sorry about that.” Reaching into my bag with my other hand I grab my sunglasses.
“So?” she questions.
“Well, Alexandre came home wasted last night.”
“Shut up. That man never drinks.” Jules has known Alexandre for years. They attended Prep school together. She is actually the one who introduced us.
“I know. It was really weird, and then,” I stop speaking as the doorman appears in my scope. My lips turn up into a smile, and I nod at him as I exit the lobby.
“And then….”
“Oh sorry. Where was I?” I already lost my place in my story.
“Alexandre was drunk,” She reminds me. Yup, jerk.
“Oh yeah, so he was wasted, and he got into bed and got all hands-y,” I say.
“No shit, wow okay” Her voice sounds confused, shocked.
“So not cool right?”
“No, not at all, he can’t honestly think that’s okay right?”
“I mean he was drunk, so who knows what he was thinking”
“That is true, obviously he wasn’t thinking that much.” She giggles into the phone. “Sorry Av, this is so not funny.”
“Nah, it’s kind of funny. So enough about me, I feel like we always talk about my issues.”
“Well, that’s because, love, you kind of need help. Yeah, not sure how to say this, but you, my dear, are not really playing with a full deck.”
“You’re such an ass.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Okay, okay enough about me. Tell me what you did last night.”
As Jules tells me about her exploits from the night before, I walk. I continue until I reach Washington Square Park, and then continue my trek back to my neck of the woods. We must have talked for hours, but as she speaks, and I’m lost in her stories, it feels as if it has only been minutes.
Guess I missed the gym…oh, well.
AS I MAKE MY way back into Gramercy, I decide to stop at the French bistro, L’Express. I pull out my phone and text Alexandre to see if he wants anything. He responds instantly but unfortunately, since I didn’t leave a note as to where I was going, he informs me that he is going out for lunch with a friend. I snarl at the mention of a friend. This friend has got to be Natasha. I don’t really have any reason to think this, but since it’s official that my sanity is already long gone, I text him.
Me: Who are you having lunch with?
My emotions ravage my nerves. My heart rate increases, and my blood pressure rises. The fear of his answer ebbs away at the peace I had moments earlier.
Alexandre: Natasha
My suspicions are confirmed. He’s with her. All my prior emotions are replaced with a mix of anger and then transfer to a strange feeling of excitement when I remember my future escapades planned with Ryder. The guilt that I should have is absent as I think of the evening but then…I stop…a thought nags in my head as I wonder if Alexandre could be doing the same thing?
HOURS RUSH BY, and it’s almost 5:30 pm. Alexandre is still not home, and
I need to be ready to leave in an hour to meet Ryder. After showering I blew out my hair, applied lipstick, and stepped into a short black A-line dress, professional yet sexy. I throw on a pair of red stilettos and am out the door. Within twenty-five minutes I’m pulling up in my cab to The Peninsula Hotel on 55th and 5th. I arrive under the false pretense of a “working cocktail.” That’s what I tell myself as I reapply my lipstick and check my appearance for the umpteenth time before stepping into the lounge. As I enter the Bar at Clement I notice the modernistic space. The room is faintly illuminated, leaving an air of seduction; leather banquettes span the center of the room. The hue of the room, a robust cognac provides the ideal backdrop to indulgence.