8
Dahlia
Jackson’s limousine driver is about to pull up to the sidewalk in front of the condo building when my cell phone buzzes from my bundle of wet, muddy clothes. I scramble to get it in time, and see that the call coming in is from Emily, one of my roommates.
“Hey Em,” I answer. “I’m just getting in. Can I call you back in a bit?”
“Sure, but I need your taste buds. Do you mind if I come by?”
“That works too,” I tell her as the driver opens the door for us to get out. “Thanks, Mr. Sterling.”
“Who are you talking to?” she asks. “Is he cute?”
“It’s my neighbor’s chauffeur. Long story, but I’ll fill you in.” I step out and guide Bailey and Daisy onto the sidewalk, keeping Sheba in my arms as I’m not ready for a repeat of a few hours ago. “How soon will you be here?”
“Around two? I’m still prepping some of these hors d’oeuvres.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be here. Just text me when you’re close, and I’ll come down.”
“Awesome. See you soon, Dahl.”
Hanging up, I head into the lobby. All I want now is a cleansing shower and some rest, but I make sure the dogs are fed first, and take them out back to the enclosed dog parkette so they can empty their bowels and bladders. When we get back up to Vivian’s unit, they quickly settle down in their doggie room for some much-needed napping.
Shortly after I’ve showered and had some time to relax, Emily sends me a text message to let me know that she just got top-side from the subway entrance a few blocks away. I meet her outside the lobby’s revolving doors. Emily is loaded down with armfuls of shopping bags, and the duffel bag she uses to transport her favorite kitchen preparation and cooking utensils.
“Hey Em,” I greet her. “Wait, you’re better off not using the revolving doors with all those bags.”
“Holy crap this place is amazing!” she remarks as I hold the glass side door open, nodding at the concierge bellman as I beat him to it. “I can so get used to this. God, I love this lobby. All these luxurious gold and red decor trimmings would be such a great combination for a dining area.”
I look around, trying to take it in through her eyes, as though it’s my first time.
“Snap a few shots for your restaurant vision board,” I tell her. Emily has been dreaming about carving out her own fine dining piece of the pie long before I met her. Judging from her vision board, which takes up an entire wall of her bedroom, it’s all she wants in the world.
“My hands are full,” she reminds me, eyes still darting around. “I’ll get some later. Where’s the elevator? Let’s see what kind of kitchen I’m working with for this taste-testing session.”
I point at the elevator bays to the left and look over at her, slightly surprised. “You didn’t make everything beforehand?”
“Of course not. That would defeat the purpose. I need you to give me your take on the dishes when they’re at their ideal serving temperature. We can’t do that if I have to package them up and cart them across the city through all the vehicle pollution, and subway air, and people. Your boss lady won’t mind if I use her kitchen, will she?”
An elevator arrives, and we step on. “No, she won’t,” I say, pressing the button to the penthouse level. “But be ready for the dogs to be hovering and begging for scraps at every turn.”
“A small price to pay for luxury,” she coos in a fake British accent, giving me a wink as she flips back her long blonde locks from one side of her face.
“Oh, and beware. Daisy opens the stove top pots herself, FYI.”
“Shit. Really?”
I nod. “She’s large enough…and sufficiently skilled to pull it off. Just don’t ask me if or when she’s liable to try it. From what I’ve seen, Sheba’s the ringleader. I still can’t figure out his patterns. Honestly, it’s a mystery to me whether he just gets in a mood and encourages Daisy to do his bidding.”
Emily smiles and cocks her head to one side. “I can’t picture that little thing being a bad influence.”
“You should see what he put me through this morning.”
“What did he do?”
The shame of Sheba leading me right to Jackson cause my cheeks to burn again. “No biggie. He just got me head to toe in mud, then face-to-face with the broody billionaire next door who happens to hate dogs.”
“What? That bad, huh?” she asks as the elevator opens at the penthouse level.
“Long story. I motion for her to get off first, and follow behind. “I’ll fill you in while you make me some comfort food.”
Bailey, Daisy, and Sheba are in the foyer waiting for us as we walk in. “Y’all smelled the food, didn’t you?” I ask. “If you behave, I may let you have a taste. Are you gonna be good girls? And a good boy, Sheba?”
Sheba leaps up on my leg, wagging his tail and stretching out his tongue to lick my hand.
“You’d better be good today, boy,” I say, patting the top of his head. “The kitchen’s this way, Em.”
“This apartment is fabulous,” she says, sighing and gasping for breath with every turn as we make our way through the wide hallways to the custom kitchen. She puts her bags on the kitchen counter and notices the view from the sitting area on one side of the large space. “And I get to top off preparing these tasty bites with a view overlooking the Upper West Side! I’ve died and gone to celebrity chef heaven!”
“I’m glad you like it,” I tell her, flopping down into the cushioned back bar stools in the kitchen’s main seating area, surrounded by my three doggie musketeers. “But make it quick with the tasty bites, will you? I’m starving.”
“Hang tight. It’ll be ready soon.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I’ve got it all covered. Maybe you should tell me what happened with the hot neighbor.”
While Emily spreads her various freezer bags, bowls, chopping blocks, baking trays, knives and other containers on the kitchen center island to get started, I fill her in on Sheba’s misbehavior, from day one when Vivian was leaving, right up to his stunt this morning.
“Jesus, it sounds like Sheba’s trying to hook you up with Mr. Money Bags,” Em says.
“Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. It appears to me that he only goes out on the terrace if your neighbor’s around. And that little joyride he had Daisy take you on this morning…maybe Sheba was running through the park to see him.” She opens the fridge to put a few items inside. “Oooh, a double door stainless steel fridge with an icemaker, lower lever freezer compartment, and a crisper too? And there’s room! You’re so fucking lucky, Dahl.”
“This is temporary for me, remember? If anything, it’ll make me jaded and depressed when I have to go back to Brooklyn,” I whine.
“Enjoy it while you can, honey.” She hangs on to the fridge door and turns to look at me. “Oh. That reminds me. Can I come back tomorrow for a repeat?”