Obsessed(6)

I make it. I step into the elevator breathless and anxious. Brighton Beck may be a world renowned artist but I'm much more curious about Jax. The man who had literally breathed down my neck at the exhibition opening last night has been dancing through my thoughts all day. Hopefully I can probe Brighton this evening into sharing more information about the mysterious Jax and how serious things are with him and the woman he left the gallery with.

The elevator reaches the lobby with a jerk and I brace myself for Liz's reaction to my non-traditional, black tie ensemble.

I step out to the grinning face of Oliver, one of the building's doormen. "Ms. Marlow, you look lovely."

"Thank you, Oliver." I reach to kiss him on his cheek. "How is your wife feeling today?" I can see Liz standing a few feet behind Oliver, her face twisted in panic.

"She's fine, Ms. Marlow. I'll tell her you asked about her."

As Oliver moves to open the front door of the building, Liz steps up beside me. "I said black tie. Why are you wearing that?"

I look down at the red, knee length, halter dress I'm wearing, my left leg peeking out beneath the curiously high slit. Strappy black heels complete my outfit. "I think I look fabulous."

I can hear her grumble something under her breath as the driver opens the car door for us. "After you." I smile at my disgruntled friend.

"Fine," she says with a huff as she slides in.

The driver winds his way through traffic as Liz briefs me on what she's hoping to accomplish this evening. "I want to impress him." She absentmindedly plays with the silver bangle on her left wrist. "This placement could make all the difference in my career."

I grab Liz's hand to steady it. "You'll do fine. Your work speaks for itself." I try to reassure her although I know it's doing little good. When Liz feels apprehensive about anything, her body language always gives it away.

She pulls away from my touch to continue twisting her bracelet. "If it was all about my work, he would have given me the spot already. He's offered placements to two others, there's only one left."

I nod. "I understand."

"Your hair." Liz reaches to tame the loose tendrils from the quick upsweep I've pinned my hair into. "It's everywhere."

I follow her lead, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ears. "Is that better?"

She looks at me momentarily, then her gaze shifts to the buildings we're passing as the driver maneuvers the car up Fifth Avenue.

I pull a small mirror from my clutch along with my lipstick. My reflection speaks of someone who wasn't all that interested in putting on her dinner party best for a man she's not sure she ever wants to lay eyes on again. I apply the dark red color to my lips, take one last fleeting glance and ready myself as the car comes to a halt in front of a high rise on Park Avenue.



***



We step into a lavish, open concept space, filled with classical music, the fragrance of fresh flowers and an eclectic mix of artwork and furnishings.

Brighton rushes over. "Liz, Ivy, I'm so delighted you're here."

"I'm so excited." Liz's voice has taken on a higher pitch.

I give her a glare, trying to silently warn her to calm down. She ignores me, her eyes fixated on Brighton who is dressed in a black suit, white shirt and a red tie that is the same hue as my dress.

"Great minds think alike, Ivy," he says as he lifts the tie and playfully nods towards my dress.

"I agree, Brighton." I smile. "Your apartment is wonderful."

Liz interjects, "This is a penthouse."

"Whatever," I say as I watch Brighton's reaction.

He grins, obviously entertained by our mindless banter about his living quarters.

"Please, ladies, come in." He motions towards a small group of people gathered across the room. I don't recognize any of them which isn’t surprising. The world of New York art is not where I spend my time. This is Liz's element.

Liz leads the way with Brighton right behind her. I study the surroundings, not particularly enthralled with the idea of meeting a bunch of people I have nothing in common with, who I'll likely never see again.

"Ivy." Jax's voice is in my ear the moment his hand touches my back.

I close my eyes, relishing in the sound. It's soft, the tone strong and vibrant.

"You look beautiful." His index finger is slowing circling a small spot on my back.

"Thank you." I turn around and look up. His face is even more arresting in this light. He has a small mole above the left corner of his lip that I didn't notice last night. I find myself staring at it.

His hand trailed my body when I turned, never losing contact with the silk of my dress. It's now resting very gently on my waist.