Including me.
So I had a plan. Nails, makeup and facials down (nearly), building up a clientele as I went along and finding a salon or spa that would rent me space or take me on as an employee in the meantime. Then move onto the whopper deluxe, massage therapy. I was doing all this while saving to open my own place. Living frugal. Being smart. Getting educated. Building a clientele and providing excellent service to keep them so whenever I moved and when I settled, they’d follow me.
Then be my own boss and that boss was the boss of indulgence.
How freaking awesome would that be?
Perfect. With my life, facing the rest of it filled with offering tranquility and indulgence was perfect for me.
This was on my mind instead of what I didn’t want to be on my mind as I found a spot somewhat close to the front doors to the high-rise complex. It took me three attempts before I did a terrible job at parallel parking my car. It didn’t matter, I wouldn’t be there long. I got out, fed a nickel into the meter which gave me a nanosecond (not really) but enough time to do what I needed to do.
Then I dashed into the building and went to the doorman’s desk.
When we were there on Saturday, there was no doorman on duty which meant day and evening hours. But the door had been locked (as it now wasn’t) and we’d had to buzz up. However, I’d seen the desk so I’d hoped it had someone behind it sometime and luckily I was right.
I smiled at him and he smiled at me as I walked up to him.
Then I stopped at the desk, put the taped down, bubble wrap envelope on it and asked, “Can I leave that and you’ll give it to Knight, I think his last name is Sebring, in apartment 15A?”
His brows went up. “Mr. Sebring? Unit 15A? Sure,” he replied. “But you want, I can call up. See if he’s here.”
His hand was drifting to the phone so I lifted mine swiftly and shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m in a rush and he needs that but I have to dash. Can you just make sure he gets it?”
He nodded again. “Sure.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
He smiled back.
I skedaddled.
Right, that down, point made, note written, Thanks, Knight. That’s very kind and generous but I can’t accept. Be well, Anya.
And that was it. The end.
The end.
I drove home thinking of the end of Knight Sebring at the same time wishing, with what I knew was sheer lunacy and I didn’t get it at all, was that it was the beginning.
* * * * *
The next night, it was late and I was coming home from class thinking about my weekend. Four clients on Saturday including Sandrine who I knew would stay through the client after her and bitch about Nick (who still hadn’t called, not surprisingly to anyone but Sandrine) and stay even after that trying to convince me to go out with her to the clubs that evening in search of him.
Because this wasn’t an eventuality but a certainty, Viv and I had already formed a plan of attack. Viv was making her world famous (not really but it should be) chicken, lemon and asparagus risotto. I was bringing a bottle of wine, my facial gear and my copy of Thor. We were going to eat, I was going to give Vivica and Sandrine, if she was smart enough to bag on the Nick hunt, a facial then we were going to perv on Chris Hemsworth.
The perfect evening.
Don’t get me wrong, there was a time when I liked to go out mostly because I liked music but I loved dancing. And even though I didn’t have the greatest clothes, I chose selectively, liked what I chose and they suited me. I liked to get all dressed up, made up, hair out to there, heels even higher, go out, have a few drinks, loosen up, flirt a little, maybe get asked out on a date but especially, dance.
But now I was twenty-seven, not twenty-two (or three or four) and this happening every weekend with a wild party thrown in here and there was wearing. I was never out to be part of the scene. And I wasn’t on the hunt for a man. I dated. A couple of times I dated a guy for a while before I broke it off. So I was open to meeting men and exploring things. But I hadn’t found anyone who struck me. I wasn’t desperate. If it happened, it happened. If it didn’t, I could take care of myself. But if it happened, it had to be right.
“Anya?”
I knew that smooth, deep voice like I’d heard it every day hundreds of times a day since birth. So I stopped mid-punching in of new security code and woodenly twisted to see Knight Sebring striding up the steps of my apartment building toward me.
Okay, um…
Crap!
I pulled it together and greeted, “Hey,” then added, “What are you doing here?”
I didn’t need to ask. I was taking in his face, his well-cut, dark suit, his shirt that was the color of moss and it suited him, even with blue eyes, to perfection and the fact that he seemed mildly annoyed. But I didn’t miss the glossy black box he held in one long-fingered hand.
He made it to me and held up the box. “Take it,” he ordered, no greeting, no smile, nothing but those two words.
I looked down at the box then up to his eyes.
“Knight, I can’t,” I said softly.
His head tipped slightly to the side and his brows drew together as he asked, “Why the f**k not?”
“Because I looked it up at work and I know it costs nine hundred and eighty-nine dollars.”
“So?” he returned instantly.
I stared at him.
Then I repeated his, “So?”
“Yeah, babe. So?”
I turned fully to him. “So, I don’t know you.”
“So?”
“So?” I again repeated his repeat.
“Jesus, f**k, babe,” he jerked the box to me sounding impatient, “got shit to do. Take it.”
“Knight, I can’t,” I reiterated.
“Anya, babe,” he leaned in and reiterated back with some scary emphasis, “why the f**k not?”
I stared into his eyes. He was impatient. He was annoyed. I did not know this man and he was trying to give me a nearly one thousand dollar phone like it was nothing.
“Why are you pressing this phone on me?” I asked quietly and he leaned back.
“Told you in the note, you read?” he asked, this sarcasm not amusing but I didn’t call him on that. I nodded. “Then you know, woman needs a functioning phone.”
“I’m saving,” I shared. “I’ll have one in a couple of weeks.”
His eyes held mine.
Then he whispered, “Saving?”
Crap. Crap!
I ignored that and all it exposed and assured him, “Anyway, I’m fine. Good. Or I will be on the phone front in a couple of weeks.”