Lilah's List (3 page)

Lilah's List Blog Entry
October 27, 2007

I made out with a stranger last night. Yes, me, the girl who wears rubber gloves to carry trash cans to the curb, had my lips and tongue completely interlocked with a man I barely know. It's true, I've been in New York one day, and I've already succumbed to the debauchery. I wasn't fazed by the white-knuckle flight, the cab driver with a death wish or the cranky Jamaican bouncer. But put me in a crowded room with a bed that sleeps sixteen and a hot guy, and I completely lose my cool. But before you book me a ticket on the next train to Skankytown, let me explain.

W
hen she'd boarded the plane for New York that morning, Lilah had felt daring. Her blood had pumped with excitement. Whether or not she returned with a tattoo, a designer dress or a date with a celebrity didn't matter. For two weeks she was going to have fun, spend some much-needed time with her best friend, and live on the edge.

She'd headed for her first-class window seat only to find a gentleman already occupying it. Eventually the stewardess was able to sort out the mixup, but that didn't keep Lilah from feeling conspicuously like a fraud.

To make matters worse, the plane sat on the tarmac for forty-five minutes while some unexplained mechanical trouble was investigated. Thank goodness the flight was only an hour long, because Lilah white-knuckled it the entire way. So much for first-class—it was lost in a blur of fear and mimosas.

After struggling with her bags and arguing with the taxi driver for trying to make a daring pass into oncoming traffic that had nearly killed them, Lilah finally arrived at the Casablanca Hotel. It was a self-proclaimed oasis in the heart of Times Square. She chose the place because
Casablanca
was one of her favorite movies. And watching it was one of the first things she was able to cross off The List.

She'd had romantic fantasies of sitting in front of the fireplace in Rick's Café and listening to “As Time Goes By” on her iPod. Unfortunately she didn't even take the time to soak in the vibrantly colored Moroccan decor. Instead she flopped down on the king-size bed and slept like the dead all afternoon.

Lilah was just returning to a groggy consciousness when Angie began pounding on her door early that evening. “Take it easy,” Lilah said, opening the door, heedless of her nap-mussed hair and wrinkled T-shirt and jeans.

Angie stood in the doorway, hand on hip, as she looked Lilah up and down. She clicked her tongue. “It's just as I suspected. So much to do and so little time.”

Lilah blinked at her friend. “I love you, too.”

Then she was swept off her feet as the taller woman lifted her into a bear hug. “I'm so happy you're finally here. We're going to have so much fun.”

Angie reached into the hallway for the suitcase she'd brought along, and bounded into the room, filling it with her energy. But Lilah was feeling the opposite of energetic. Her days of staying up late and going out were long in her past. If the truth were told, she could get much more excited about room service and a movie rental than the agenda Angie was laying out for them.

“We have to get to Duvet early, otherwise we'll never get past the door. But don't worry, I have a fool-proof plan to get us in.”

“Great,” Lilah said, falling back on the tousled bed sheets.

“Have you been sleeping all day?” It was an accusation.

“Yup,” she answered without remorse. “I could barely sleep last night thinking about this trip. You know, the more I think about The List, the more impossible it seems.”

Angie stopped rummaging through the closet to stare at her. “Since when do we let the impossible stand in our way? Two days before senior prom, when we were doomed to being
each other's
dates, it was your idea to storm the University of Maryland campus and ask every cute guy we saw to the prom. You had every girl at Richard Montgomery High School wondering how two nobodies scored dates with hot college boys.”

“Yeah,” Lilah said absently.

“You used to be fearless, remember? You could talk anyone into anything. What happened to you?”

When Lilah looked back on some of the stunts she and Angie had pulled in their youth, it blew her mind. She couldn't imagine approaching situations with the same reckless abandon she'd once had.

Lilah looked at Angie and shrugged. “What happened to me? I grew up.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Angie turned her attention back to Lilah's closet and began throwing her clothes around the room.

“None of these clothes are acceptable for tonight's activities, and there's no time for shopping.” Angie walked over to her suitcase and opened it up. “Fortunately for you, I came prepared. It's an original creation and it will look stunning on you.”

It
was a burnt-orange swirly-print cocktail dress with a complicated weaving of spaghetti straps across the back. It stopped just above Lilah's knees with dainty flair. Lilah studied herself in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, if a bit bold for her taste.

“Good Lord, are those the only shoes you have?” Angie turned up her nose at Lilah's functional, decidedly nondesigner black pumps.

“I'm afraid so, unless you think my pink Timberlands would work with this look.”

“I guess the pumps are going to have to do. I don't know how you balance on those tiny pin-pricks you call feet, anyway,” she said with a comical glare that had the two of them bursting into giggles. Angie's feet were two sizes bigger than Lilah's—and Angie all but hated her for it.

Lilah piled her light brown hair atop her head in one of those sloppy knots she'd seen in magazines. She was going for an air of elegant maturity. She silently prayed she didn't look the way she felt—like a little girl playing dress-up.

Physically, Lilah hadn't changed much since high school. She still got carded on a regular basis. With her clear champagne complexion, no makeup and her honey-brown hair worn loose, she was a dead ringer for sixteen.

It would be a few more years before Lilah felt being mistaken for someone younger could actually be flattering instead of mildly annoying. Her tiny, soft voice did nothing to help matters. That was why Lilah relied on makeup and a severe topknot to force clients to take her seriously. She also tried as hard as possible not to be bubbly.

Angie, on the other hand, epitomized bubbly. Add that to her two-toned Macy Gray fro and funky homemade clothes, and people frequently underestimated her wickedly keen mind.

Angie in her typical statement-making fashion, was wearing a skintight vinyl tube that passed as a dress. With this she wore black leggings and multicolored paint-splattered boots, under a long dark coat straight from
The Matrix
. With her orange curling Afro frosted at the tips, her hair radiated from her head like rays of sunshine.

“Okay, are you ready to hear my strategy?” Angie asked later as they rode to the Flatiron District in a taxi. The late October night air had just enough bite for them to need overcoats, but it wasn't cold enough for gloves and scarves yet.

“I can't wait,” Lilah answered, deflated. She wasn't looking forward to this adventure. In fact, considering the way her trip had begun, she was convinced this entire outing would be a disaster.

“Listen up, I have a three-tiered plan to get us past the doorman. Phase one, and the least likely to work, we flash our brilliant smiles and sweetly ask to be let in.”

“If that's unlikely to work, Angie, why is it even part of the plan?”

“Because we're attractive women—we're armed with mother nature's tools. It never hurts to try them out.”

Lilah rolled her eyes. “What's phase two?”

“We drop the high school connection.”

“What?”

“We tell the bouncer we went to high school with Reggie Martin.”

That gave Lilah a start. She hadn't seen Reggie since high school graduation. Would he even remember her?

She took a deep breath. Of course he would. She'd spent countless hours in his house for their tutoring sessions. He usually turned up an hour or so after she did, which gave her plenty of time to take in personal details and talk to his family about him.

And he'd been so nice to her. He always made sure she had a ride home with his brother whenever he couldn't take her himself. He would even confide in her about his family problems.

But what would she say to him after all these years? Suddenly The List sounded so juvenile. Hopefully, he wouldn't laugh in her face.

“Please tell me phase three is a real winner. Otherwise I suggest we turn this cab around and go have a nice dinner. I haven't eaten all day.”

“Phase three is a sure thing.”

“I'm listening.”

“Filet mignon.”

“You agree we should go for dinner?”

“No, that's the code word.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Apparently all bouncers know this code word. It means let us in immediately, we're very important people.”

“And just where did you get this information?”

She pointed out the window. “Look, we're almost there.”

“No changing the subject. Where did you hear this?”

Angie sighed. “The Internet.”

Lilah's spine snapped straight. “Driver!”

Angie grabbed her arm and covered Lilah's mouth. “Shh. This is going to work. You'll see.”

Lilah climbed out of the cab, her legs trembling ever so slightly. “This is going to be so humiliating.”

Angie gripped her elbow and started marching her forward. “You know the drill. Say everything with confidence and authority, and you'll have those bouncers eating out of your hand.”

They approached a tall, dark-skinned man with dreadlocks and a black leather trench coat. “Hi, we're here for the party,” Angie said brightly.

The man frowned at her. “We don't open to the public until after midnight tonight. We have a private party going on,” he answered with a thick Jamaican accent.

“That's right,” Angie continued. “We're here for the party.”

The man just shook his head.

“We're meeting our high school friend Reggie here.
Reggie Martin.”

The man pointed over Angie's shoulder to the long line stretching down the block.

“What's that line for?”

“Dat's for everyone who wants to be let in after midnight.”

“But it's only eight-thirty.”

His gaze remained cold.

“By the way,” Angie said finally. “We're filet mignon.”

The bouncer glared at her. “Really, 'cuz you look more like chopped liver.” He turned to Lilah. “And this one barely looks over eighteen. Don't try flashing dem fake IDs 'round here. I can spot 'em a mile away.”

“Now wait a minute,” Lilah said, finally finding her voice. “There's no need to be rude. I realize you probably hear a lot of creative stories from people trying to scam their way into the club. And I'm certain it's no fun to have people approach you like they own the world and expect to be treated like it. But you don't look like the kind of gentleman whose mother raised him to disrespect women.”

Lilah resisted the urge to giggle at the look of wide-eyed chagrin on his face. “I…uh…I—”

“Please tell me you're not giving my friends a hard time,” a deep masculine voice called out behind them.

Lilah froze in place. She knew that voice. It couldn't be—

She turned and found herself looking up into a pair of deep-brown eyes. He towered over her at six-foot-four and was dressed in a black winter coat over an impeccably tailored, dark suit. His crisp, white shirt was open at the collar.

All of Lilah's words stuck in her throat.

“Mr. Martin, my apologies,” the bouncer said, opening the rope for them to pass through.

A
s he guided the two women past the entryway, Tyler Martin was pleased to have done his good deed for the day.

He hated velvet ropes, bouncers, celebrity parties and all the air kisses and fake smiles that went along with them. Helping these girls get past that thick-necked jerk redeemed some of the self-respect he'd lost profiting from this life.

But, on second glance, Tyler realized that he recognized these women. He'd be hard pressed to remember the name of the tall one with brightly colored hair, but he'd know Lilah Banks anywhere.

It was hard to forget the shy sixteen-year-old who had sat at the kitchen table with him more times than he could count.

“I know you two, don't I?” He touched Lilah's arm. “You're Lilah Banks, right?”

Lilah started. “You know my name? You remember me?”

“Of course, you spent so much time at our house, our housekeeper thought you lived there.”

Lilah laughed nervously and her friend stepped forward. “I'm Angie Snow, Lilah's best friend.”

“Oh yes,” Tyler said, shaking her hand. “I recognized your face.”

He'd been two years ahead of the girls in school, so he was already in his first semester at the University of Maryland when Lilah started tutoring his brother.

His heart had gone out to her because it had been so obvious that she'd had a huge crush on Reggie. More often than not, she'd been stuck with him because his younger brother had his head in the clouds and rarely showed up for tutoring on time.

When Reggie had shown up, he wasted her time bitching about how hard things were around the house. Hard? The kid had everything handed to him on a silver platter. It was Tyler who picked up the slack. Shopping for food, running errands and driving the tutor home while Reggie played video games in his bedroom.

But, if Reggie was self-centered, he had no one to blame but himself. Their mother was a doctor and their father a lawyer. So, although they always had every new gadget and video game, their parents were rarely home. Vivian Martin didn't like having strangers raise her kids, so when Tyler was old enough, Reggie became his responsibility.

Thank God he loved the kid. Which wasn't difficult since Reggie had a witty sense of humor and was genuinely fun to be around. He had an inherent charm that made it easy to forgive his mistakes. They were extremely close, which worked out well since their worlds were so tightly intertwined.

Reggie had a natural gift for music, and Tyler had a natural gift for business. While Reggie wrote songs in the recording studio, it was Tyler's job to handle the business details, including making sure the accountant, publicist and the rest of the industry didn't take advantage of his baby brother.

Which brought him to his present situation. He avoided the limelight whenever possible, but he'd come to accept that in this business, important meetings often took place in the VIP lounge of some popular night spot. He now represented several people in the entertainment industry, and tonight Reggie wanted him to meet a potential new client.

Now that he'd gotten them past the doorman, Tyler half expected the girls to float off. Instead they huddled close, with no obvious agenda.

The room—lit with pink, green and orange neon lights showcasing wide decadent beds with drapes and pillows—was buzzing but not packed. He scanned the area for Reggie, but since he didn't see a crowd of fawning females, he knew Reggie wasn't in the room.

A DJ pumped mellow dance music through the speakers, loud enough to catch a rhythm but not so loud as to curb conversations.

“Um, you're probably wondering why you found us trying to crash this party, huh?” Angie started.

“Since you mentioned it…”

“We're kind of on a mission. Tell him, Lilah.”

Lilah blanched and gave her friend a stunned look.

Tyler tried to break the ice. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

Lilah gulped. “Yeah, sort of. Um, when I was sixteen I made this list of things I wanted to do before I turned thirty.”

Tyler nodded. He was thirty-two, which meant the big three-oh had to be just around the corner for Lilah.

“My birthday's in two weeks, and I thought it might be nice to finish off The List.”

“And something on your list involves this club?” Tyler couldn't help noticing that Lilah seemed mortified. He wanted to ease her embarrassment, but he didn't know how when he didn't even know what she was trying not to say.

“A couple of things, actually.” She pulled a PDA phone out of her purse and showed him the illuminated screen. “Crash a party and…uh, something else.”

“What's the other thing?” He couldn't keep himself from asking.

“It's actually pretty convenient that we ran into you because it involves your brother Reggie,” Angie said, trying to help Lilah along.

“Ah, I see…” He should have known.

If it were possible, Lilah seemed even more embarrassed. “Keep in mind, I started this list when I was sixteen.” She scrolled her PDA screen and handed him the phone.

Item number one on her list was
date Reggie Martin
. For some reason that Tyler couldn't define, his heart sank.

He'd known she'd had a crush on his brother back in high school. He'd even tried to get his brother to acknowledge that fact, but he'd insisted that Tyler was reading too much into the situation.

Lilah rushed to explain herself. “I know it sounds absurd. He probably has a girlfriend or fiancée or something. I just thought, maybe, as a favor to a high school friend, we could have drinks or something. That way I can cross this off my list with minimal intrusion on his life.”

Tyler couldn't help himself. He threw his head back and laughed. When he saw the hurt expression on her face, he immediately brought himself under control. “I'm sorry. Yes, he's single. I'm sure some sort of meeting that will qualify as a date won't be a problem.”

Lilah was visibly relieved and Tyler felt his stomach muscles clench as she asked, “Is he here tonight? We heard that he might be here.”

“Yeah, he's supposed to meet me here. He's probably in the VIP area, wherever that might be. Hold on.”

Tyler pulled out his cell phone and punched the speed dial for his brother.

“Yo,” Reggie answered with his standard greeting.

“Where are you? I'm at the club, and I don't see you.”

“I'm downstairs in the VIP. Come down.”

“Actually, I'm up here with a couple of women who would like to talk to you.”

“Nice. Brother, you work fast. Are they hot?”

Tyler let his gaze slide over to the two women watching him expectantly. He turned his back, feeling heat creep up his neck. “Of course.”

Angie, tall and willowy with her wild explosion of curls, was definitely beautiful, if you liked that funky art-student vibe. Lilah, on the other hand, was petite and curvy with luminous pale skin and honey-colored hair. She hadn't changed much since high school. In fact, if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that she was still in high school.

The only really noticeable changes were her eyes. They no longer held the open invitation he used to see there. Now, they were clearly marked Do Not Disturb. She'd been burned by someone.

But then again, who hadn't? It was only a matter of time for most people anyway.

“Do you want me to bring them down?”

“Nah, if they're the clingy type, once they're in, I'll never shake them off. I'll come up. Give me ten.”

“Great. We'll get a table…er, bed and wait for you.”

He clicked the phone shut and turned back to the girls. “He'll meet us up here in ten minutes. I'll see about finding us a spot to hang out.”

Angie shook her shoulder so hard, Lilah thought her arm might fall off. “See, this worked out just like I said it would.”

Lilah snorted. “Not
just
like you said it would. Besides, it hasn't ‘worked out' yet.”

“Come on, what are the odds of Tyler Martin coming to our rescue of all people? For a split second, I actually thought it was Reggie coming up behind us.”

“You're not the only one.” Lilah decided that it was her state of shock that accounted for her sudden loss of breath at the sight of Tyler.

Her memory of him hadn't done him justice. She'd gotten the basic stats right in her mind's eye—tall, dark-skinned, the same chestnut-brown eyes that Reggie had. But the real beauty lay in the details.

He was so much taller than she'd remembered. Sure, she was all of five-foot-two herself, but Tyler seemed to loom in the night like a dark tower in a black overcoat. And his skin was dark, but it glowed like burnished wood—clear and smooth.

And those light-brown eyes were not so much brooding as she'd remembered, but intense. He'd always looked at her as though he could see everything inside her. Like she was emotionally naked before him. It was one of the things that she'd always found so disturbing about him.

She'd never thought of Tyler as handsome—certainly not compared to Reggie. But her memory had gotten that one wrong, too. He was definitely handsome. Not in the smooth-faced, curly lashed, flash-those-pearly-whites way that Reggie was good-looking.

Tyler simply had a face that was well put together. A strong jaw with just the hint of stubble, a nose that was pointed without being too sharp, deep-set eyes and thick lips, and his hair rounded into a tight, business-like fade.

Sexy. The word flashed in her brain and was gone, like a subliminal ad.

“We gotta get some drinks in you,” Angie said, tugging her arm. “You're so nervous you're practically catatonic.”

“I'd rather have some food. I'm starving.”

“This place is also a restaurant. I'm sure we can get you something, eventually. The drinks are necessary now. We have to make sure you can actually speak when Reggie gets up here. You're so stiff, you could be made of cardboard.”

“We can't leave. Tyler's coming back for us.”

“Fine. You wait here. I'll hit the bar. You still like appletinis, right?”

“Yeah, that's fine.” Lilah's mind had already wandered off. In a matter of minutes, she was actually going to be talking to Reggie Martin.

She saw Tyler's tall, dark form emerge from the crowd. He came to her side, taking her elbow in his hand. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, “I'm going to take you to bed.”