“Of course I do.” I lean against the doorframe. “Some of it, anyway.” He stares me down. “Okay, it’s pretty much all a blur.”
“Shame.” He looks at his jacket, sees the white sticky mess on it, and tosses it in the trashcan. “Being with me is definitely something you’d want to remember.”
“Wow, you’re a real prize, aren’t you?” I step over and retrieve the jacket. “This is an Armani suit. You can’t simply throw it away.”
“It’s got jizz all over it.”
“So wash it.”
“What’s the point? I’ll probably never wear it again. My dad bought it for me.”
I pull the sheet tightly around me. “You’re a spoiled rich kid, aren’t you?”
“I’m nineteen. That hardly qualifies me as a kid.”
“Except you are a kid, because daddy is still buying your clothes.”
“Whatever.” He eyes me up and down. “How old are you? Please fucking tell me you’re over eighteen.”
“Just.”
“Good.” He slides past me into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
I pound on it and yell, “I was going to take a shower. This is my hotel room.”
Pee sounds come from behind the door, then the shower turns on. I check the handle. It’s unlocked, so I go in and use the toilet. Gage or Jerry or whoever peeks around the curtain, then pushes it aside. “There’s room for two.”
“Get over yourself.” I wash my hands and quickly brush my teeth before exiting. I still need to shower, but I’m not about to do it with a stranger. A stranger you slept with.
I check the time. I told Sheila I’d get the gifts delivered and feed her dog by ten. It’s nine, and it’s an hour drive from New York City to Stamford. I hope the pooch can hold it until I get there. I’ll be in deep shit if he pees all over her Persian rug.
I return to the bathroom door, clothes in hand. “Can you hurry it up? I have to—”
The door swings open, and he’s standing before me with a towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water are still on his chest. A bead slides down the arm with all the tattoos. He snatches his clothing off the counter and slithers by me with a smirk.
Before I shut the door, I say, “You’ll be gone when I come out, won’t you?”
“No chance of getting a repeat of last night then?”
“I take quick showers. I suggest you get dressed.”
“That’s a no then?”
“Please just go. I have a million things to do today.”
He drops the towel and pulls on his skivvies like he’s doing it in front of his girlfriend. And I watch, like he’s my boyfriend. He has a great body, and I tingle, badly wishing I remembered how he felt on top of me. I turn and shut the door.
Ten minutes later, when I emerge, he’s gone. Part of me is disappointed. He was fun to look at. Arrogant but fun. I get the feeling that beneath his narcissism, he might be a nice guy. Guess I won’t ever find out.
I check out of the hotel and fish Sheila’s keys out of my purse. She and Kurt stayed in the honeymoon suite and left on an early flight to Barbados. In exchange for taking the gifts to her house and dog-sitting all week, she paid for my hotel room and gave me a stipend for food while I stay at her house. It will be nice to get out of the craphole they call an apartment for seven whole days.
I find her car in the parking garage and peek in the back of the large SUV. No one broke in; all the presents are still there. The key fob fails to unlock the car, despite me pressing it multiple times. I know this is her car. I’m the one who loaded it before all the drinking.
“Problem?” someone says behind me.
I spin around and go on high alert. “Are you following me?”
He points to someone standing by a Porsche in the next row. “Getting a ride home with my brother.”
“Oh.”
“What’s the issue?”
I hold up the key fob. “It’s not working.”
“Let me see it.” I hand it to him, he tries it, but nothing. Then he pulls the key fob apart and a key magically appears.
“Wow, there’s a key inside it?”
He gazes at me like I’m from another planet. “They all do. Didn’t you know?”
“I don’t drive cars with fancy electronic keys.”
He puts a hand on the roof of the SUV. “This isn’t yours?”
“It’s Sheila’s. She’s my boss. I’m house-sitting for her this week.” I take the key from him and manually unlock the door. “Thanks.”
I get in and push the button thingy to start the car. It doesn’t start. My forehead meets the steering wheel. “Come on. I do not need this today.” My head is still pounding from whatever I drank last night.
There’s a knock on the window. “Need help?”
“It won’t start.”
“Try the key. Maybe the fob can’t connect.”
I do what he says. Nothing.
“Let me try.” I get out of the car, and he slides into the driver’s seat. It doesn’t start for him either. He steps out. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
He goes over and says something to his brother, who gets in his car and drives off, waving at me as he passes. I awkwardly wave back.
A few minutes later, a man in a golf cart pulls up behind the SUV. Mysterious Man from last night is in the passenger seat. He asks Golf Cart Man to pop the hood, then hooks jumper cables to a portable battery pack, and thirty seconds later, the car starts. Mysterious Man points to the backseat. “Looks like a light was left on.”
I rub my eyes. “I must have left it on when I loaded the car last night.”
He takes out his wallet and gives Golf Cart Man a twenty, and he drives away.
“I’d reimburse you,” I say, “but I don’t have any cash.”
“It’s not a problem. Happy to do it.”
“I want to. If you’ll give me your address, I’ll mail it.”
“It’s twenty bucks. No biggie.”
Realization dawns. He threw away an Armani jacket. His brother drives a Porsche. “Right. I forgot you’re Richie Rich.”
“Don’t call me that. My dad is Richie Rich. I’m the kid who refuses to follow in his footsteps. The rebel son who taints the family blood.”
“And your brother?”
“The golden child.”
I try not to frown. Why couldn’t I have woken up with his brother? I’m through hanging around bad boys—I steal a glance at his tattoos—and he’s definitely one of those.
“Don’t worry about the twenty, but I could use a ride since mine left.”
“You mean since you told him to leave.”
“He was in a hurry. Couldn’t wait. You’re going back to Stamford, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the big deal? I helped you out, and now you’re helping me.”
I peek in the back of the SUV. It took me four trips with a rolling luggage cart to get all the gifts out here. I’m not looking forward to hauling them out. “Under one condition. You help me unload this crap at Sheila’s.”