Page 29 of Lick
“You’ve never been here before?”
“I’ve been busy.”
Apart from boxes there were more boxes. They were everywhere. We stood in a large central room with a huge stone fireplace set in the far wall. You could roast a whole cow in the thing if you were so inclined. Stairs led to a second floor above and another level below this one. A dining room and open-plan kitchen came next. The place was a combination of floor-to-ceiling glass, neat lines of logs, and gray stonework. The perfect mix of old and new design techniques. It was stunning. But then all the places he lived in seemed to be.
I wondered what he’d make of my and Lauren’s tiny bedraggled apartment. A silly thought. As if he’d ever see it.
“At least they got a fridge.” He pulled one of the large stainless steel doors open. Every inch of space inside had been packed with food and beverages. “Excellent.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“Ah, the people that look after the place for me. Friends of mine. They used to look after it for the previous owner too. I rang them, asked them to sort some stuff out for us.” He pulled out a Corona and popped the lid. “Cheers.”
I smiled, amused. “For breakfast?”
“I’ve been awake for two days. I want a beer, then I want a bed. Man, I hope they thought to get a bed.” Beer in hand, he ambled back through the lounge and up the stairs. I followed, curious.
He pushed open one bedroom door after another. There were four all up and each had its own bathroom because cool, rich people clearly couldn’t share. At the final door at the end of the hall he stopped and sagged with relief. “Thank fuck for that.”
A kingdom of a bed made up with clean, white sheets waited within. And a couple more boxes.
“What’s with all the boxes?” I asked. “Did they only get one bed?”
“Sometimes I buy stuff on my travels. Sometimes people give me stuff. I’ve just been sending it all here for the last few years. Take a look if you want. And yes, there’s only one bed.” He took another swig of beer. “You think I’m made of money?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Says the guy who got Cartier to open so I could pick out a ring.”
“You remember that?” He smiled around the bottle of beer.
“No, I just assumed given what time of night it must have been.” I wandered over to the wall of windows. Such an amazing view.
“You tried to pick some shitty little thing. I couldn’t believe it.” He stared at me, but his gaze was distant.
“I threw the ring at the lawyers.”
He flinched and studied his shoes. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m sorry. They just made me so mad.”
“Lawyers do that.” He took another swig of the beer. “Mal said you took a swing at him.”
“I missed.”
“Probably for the best. He’s an idiot but he means well.”
“Yeah, he was really kind to me.” Crossing my arms, I checked out the rest of his big bedroom, wandering into the bathroom. The Jacuzzi would have made Mal’s curl up in shame. The place was sumptuous. Yet again the feeling of not belonging, of not fitting in with the décor, hit me hard.
“That’s some heavy frown, friend,” he said.
I attempted a smile. “I’m just still trying to figure things out. I mean, is that why you took the plunge in Vegas? Because you’re unhappy? And apart from Mal you’re surrounded by jerks?”
“Fuck.” His let his head fall back. “Do we have to keep talking about that night?”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t that, okay?”
“Then what?”
