Fifth Ave 02.5 - From Manhattan With Love (7 page)

The people at this party were the very sort of people she needed to spread the word when her hotel opened.
 
Through them, she’d find her clientele because they themselves lived on Park and on Fifth.
 
When friends came to visit, Leana wanted them recommending her hotel first, not somebody else’s.

The car pulled alongside her apartment building on 59th Street.
 
She thanked the driver, hopped out onto the sidewalk, nodded at the doorman when he held the door open for her and hurried across the lobby to the bank of elevators.
 

She and her fiancé, Mario De Cicco, had one of the penthouses.
 
When she arrived, she dropped her keys onto a side table in the foyer and eventually found him in the kitchen.
 
He was leaning against the island, a towel wrapped around his waist, an apple in his hand, his curly dark hair still wet from the shower.
 

She dropped her bag and smiled at him.
 
From his lightly hairy pecs to his thick abs and thicker, muscular thighs and arms, he was the embodiment of everything that turned her on and made her weak.
 
She swept his body with her eyes and noted that every part of him that should be bulging was happily obliging.
 

“Why do you do this to me?” she asked.

He bit into the apple.
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t just walk around like that.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“This is exactly how I walked around in Europe.”

“Europe is Europe.
 
It’s designed for partial nudity.
 
Here, it might as well be a felony.”

“Explain how this is a crime.”

“Because I’m not myself when you’re like that.
 
I get...distracted.”

With a flick of his wrist, the towel hit the floor.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Have a look.
 
Become a believer.”

She couldn’t help a laugh.
 
“Come on.
 
We’ve got less than two hours to get there.
 
I need you to behave.”

“And you need to relax.
 
You look tense.
 
The press is going to be there.
 
You don’t want to look uptight when they’re photographing you, do you?
 
You should be glowing.
 
I can help.”

“I have been a little tense lately....”

He came behind her, lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck.
 
She closed her eyes.
 
No one excited her more than Mario.
 
He had a way with her that laid waste to any other man she’d been with.
 
Her connection with him was so intense, it was palpable.
 
She couldn’t wait to be married to him.

He started to massage her shoulders, which felt just as good as she knew it would.
 
He smoothed his hands up the length of her body and stopped to cup her breasts.
 
She could feel him against her.

And that was it.

She turned to him and put her arms around his neck.

“Okay, you big lug.
 
You win.
 
Sweep me off my feet.”

He hoisted her over his shoulder.
 

“So, what?
 
Now I’m a cavewoman?”

“Actually, now you’re being sensible.”

“Ask me that same question in five minutes.”

*
 
*
 
*

Later, when they were showering in the master bath’s double shower, Mario decided he had to break the news to her at some point.
 
The best time to do it was before they arrived at the event.

“Your father called while you were gone,” he said.

She had soap in her eyes and couldn’t see.
 
“My father what?”

“He called.”

“How does he even know our number?
 
It’s unlisted.”

“He’s George Redman.”

“Oh, right.
 
Sorry.
 
Forgot.”
 
She moved under one of the two shower heads and rinsed her hair.
 
Her issues with her father and how coldly he treated her when she was growing up still cut deep.
 
“What did he want?
 
I haven’t heard from him in a year.”

“He knows about the hotel.”

She shrugged.
 
“I figured he’d hear about it at some point, especially with his building directly across the street from it.
 
What did he say?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“It’s my father.
 
You know, the one who has won Father of the Year twenty-seven years in a row because of his excellent parenting skills.
 
Anything that has to do with him I’m not going to like.”
 
She stopped for a moment.
 
“So long as it doesn’t have to do with my mother.
 
We may not be on the best terms, but I don’t want anything happening to her.”

“It has nothing to do with your mother, but he did mention that she hasn’t heard from you.”

“We’ve been busy,” she said.
 
“What am I supposed to say to her?
 
‘Hi, Mom.
 
I hope everything is going well in prison.
 
Hang in there.
 
We’re all hoping for good behavior.’
 
It’s too much.”

“You should call her.”

“I actually plan on driving out to see her.”

“Right,” Mario said.
 
“Anyway, your father is going to be there tonight.
 
He’s been asked to give you the award.”
 
He held up his hand before she could launch into a rant.
 
“The Millers know nothing about your beef with your father.
 
They probably thought they were doing a kind gesture, especially Addy.
 
He likes you.
 
He always has.”

“I have that effect on gay men.”

“Addison Miller is gay?”

“Of course, he is.”

“How do you know?”

“You hear things.
 
You see things.
 
You sense things.
 
But it doesn’t matter.
 
Addy is Addy and I love him.
 
I just feel bad that he feels he can’t be who he is.
 
He’s a nice man who deserves something better than living out the rest of his years with that hag Tootie.”

“I don’t know her.”

“You don’t want to.
 
And you’re probably right about him suggesting that my father give me the award.
 
Addy doesn’t know what our relationship is.”
 
She twisted the water from her hair and reached for a towel.
 
“But he’s about to find out.”
 

She walked past Mario and stepped out of the shower.
 

“What are you going to do?” he said.

“I’m going to talk to Addy.
 
If anyone will understand, he will.
 
He can choose any number of people to give me that award, but it’s not going to be my father.
 
I won’t take anything from him.
 
Besides, he probably called here because he knew I’d react this way.
 
He probably wanted me to let him off the hook.”
 
She went into their bedroom and reached for the phone on one of the side tables.
 
“In this case, I’m more than happy to help him out.”

*
 
*
 
*

When they were dressing, Leana stood in front of the mirror in her dressing room and appraised herself.
 
She was going for a kind of retro thirties look and, as she turned and twinkled in the light, she decided she kind of dug it, even though some would probably say that the dress was too short and too gaudy for such an event.

Not that that would be a surprise.
 
Throughout her life, there always were those who found some reason to tear her down.
 
She didn’t care.
 
She liked the look.

She was adjusting the two diamond necklaces that plunged between her breasts when Mario stepped inside.

“You look handsome,” she said.

“And you look amazing.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m being a pain in the ass about my father.”

“If there’s anyone in your life who also understands a strained relationship between a father and his kid, it’s me.”

“We’re quite a pair,” she said.

“Actually, we are.”

“And by the way,” she said.
 
“When are you planning to call your father?”

His eyes brightened.
 
“I plan on driving out to see him soon.”

She laughed.
 
“You’re so full of shit.”

“What did Addy have to say?”

“Just that he didn’t know about my relationship with Dad, but that he understood.
 
He asked if I knew Jean-Georges Laurent, the businessman.
 
I do, but between us, he gives me the creeps.
 
Harold, who rarely had a bad word to say about anyone, hated him for some reason.
 
Now, I can only imagine why.
 
Laurent is as cut throat as it gets and he might have had something on Harold.”
 

She shrugged.
 
“But I know how these events work.
 
He’s important, people know him and that’s what matters, especially when it comes to that crowd and to the press.
 
I said I’d be pleased if Jean-Georges gave me the award and Addy said he’d call my father to give him the news.”

Mario fixed his tie.
 
“Think he’ll show anyway?”

“No idea.
 
But he doesn’t want to come near me if he does.”
 
She caught the concerned look on his face and said, “Don’t worry.
 
If he does, I’ll just politely walk away.”

“You know, people haven’t seen you in a long time.
 
They haven’t talked to you since that night.
 
They’re bound to ask you questions.
 
Are you ready for that?”

“I know what they’ll do.
 
I also know what I’ll say.”

“What’s that?”

“That I appreciate their concern but I’m not ready to discuss it.
 
That should end it.”

“Not if a member of the press asks you the question.”

She hadn’t thought of that.