Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (13 page)

And took off my clothes. I wonder if Ben had mentioned that fact to Mark. We continued to eat.

"Well, where to next?" he asked after paying the bill.

"Would you mind driving me to a grocery store? I won't take long, I promise."

"I'm yours."

We strolled back to Ben's building to get a car.

"It is a beautiful sight," I said.

"Ben owns it."

"I know."

"He owns most of the block too. Don't tell him I told you. He'd skin me alive."

"It will be our little secret." I pushed up on my toes and kissed his cheek.

"I have a feeling we'll have more in the years to come," he said.

"I don't know, Mark. Ben and I are traveling at lightning speed. The burnout could come twice as fast, but I'm not complaining. I've told myself to remember everything to keep me warm in my old age."

The store trip took a half hour. I stocked up on fresh produce and dairy products. When the mood struck to cook, I liked to be prepared. When we got back to the building, Mark helped me carry the bags to my apartment.

"Anything else I can do for you?" he asked.

"No, thanks for lunch and the conversation." I smiled and waved goodbye as he left.

An hour later, as if the office phone had telepathy, it rang as I hiked into Ben's apartment.

The answering machine clicked on. The canned male voice said, 'Please leave a message after the tone.'

"Alexia, are you there?" Ben said.

"Hello, Benjamin or should I say Mr. Cobb?"

"My father is Mr. Cobb. He also goes by Benjamin."

"I know you prefer Ben, but you look like a Benjamin. I've never seen your father so I can't comment on him." I sat at the desk and turned on the computer.

"Imagine an older, gruffer, meaner version of me."

"Spitting image?"

"My mother called us carbon copies."

"That doesn't sound complimentary." His inbox sat stuffed with emails again.

"It's not to either of us. The reason I called is because I have to host a dinner at the apartment in two weeks. I'll email a list of the people to invite. You need to order food. There is a list of caterers in my phonebook. You're invited, too."

"Is it a large group? Let me pull up your calendar to check the date. Is this a formal invitation or an email blast? What's the dress code and the reason for the event?" I asked as I typed.

"Wear whatever you want as long as you're naked underneath."

"Sexual harassment by employers is the stuff of lawsuits nowadays."

"I'm not harassing—I'm suggesting. If you don't take my suggestion, I'll harass you till you do."

"How many people?" I shifted back to business mode.

"Twenty."

"Is it a special occasion?"

"To discuss my mother's legacy. I'm getting inundated with offers. I'm calling these people for advice. Some were her friends and colleagues."

"Is your father invited?"

When will I learn to think before I speak?

The eerie silence on the other end of the phone grew longer.

"No," he finally said.

"I'll wait for the email with the details, and then I'll get started," I said as I shook a little.

"Fine."

The same flat, dead-to-me tone lingered.

Another pause.

"Alexia, don't bring up my father again, okay?"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

"Okay," I said.

"Do I sound scary?"

"A tad," I admitted. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No, I'm sorry I upset you. Benjamin Emanuel Cobb and I only speak when it's absolutely necessary, which means rarely."

I decided to change the subject.

"I had lunch with Mark."

"I know. He told me. Don't make it a habit. I don't like my employees fraternizing and plotting against me."

I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not.

"I'll be home at about five. We can eat out, or I'll pick something up."

"I could cook."

"Great. Bye." He hung up.

I held the receiver for a long while. When I set it back on the holder, it rang again.

"Yes, Ben," I said.

"It is proper to address your elders by their surnames until you have been given permission to do otherwise. You may call me Mr. Cobb. Are you my son's fiancée?"

Benjamin Emanuel Cobb sounded like the meanest person alive. Did he say fiancée?

"Excuse me, Mr. Cobb. I thought you were your son calling. I'm Alexia Hale. I work for Ben. We are not engaged. He is in meetings all day. He should be here by six. Shall I have him call you?"

I got all of it out with one exhale. I did learn something from my sisters.

"He never returns my calls. I hear he's having a meeting about my wife's estate." Dangerous pools of quicksand and landmines opened around me. It was a good time to tread very lightly so nothing blew up in or off my face.

"Yes, I believe it's in the preliminary stages."

"Miss Hale, be sure I get an invitation. I have a vested interest in my late wife's affairs."

"Ben is putting the guest list together. I'll tell him about your request."

"He won't tell me anything—that's why I'm relying on you." I was caught between an older boulder and rock hard abs.

"Please call me Alexia, Mr. Cobb. I will relay your interest, sir."

A long pause.

"Alexia, tell Ben I will be in Chicago next week. My time there is open-ended. I will see him then."

"I don't have his schedule for next week, but I will let him know your plans."

"Thank you, Alexia," he said, and it seemed that his voice had softened a little.

"You're welcome, Mr. Cobb."

I hung up, and my arm went numb. I was surprised the receiver didn't snap in two. Venom spewed from both men. Strong, determined, rigid, bitter men locked in their own cage match. I had to stay out of the middle.

Here these two men were the only family both of them had, and they were miserable to each other. How dare they squander their time battling each other? How did Helen stand it? Maybe she couldn't either. How hard it must have been to watch her loves at each other's throats. Trying to be the peacemaker, ego stroker, and full time referee must have taken an awful toll.

Fiancée? Damn Wally.

I ran downstairs and picked through my fridge and pantry. I found a box of angel hair pasta, carrots, garlic, jalapeños, canned tomatoes, and olive oil. I packed everything up and lugged it back upstairs. As I filled a pot with water, I devised a Cobb strategy. What should I say about his father's call? Should I even tell him? The mere mention of him infuriated Ben. If I tell him, should I include my own observations? How about our alleged engagement? I needed to read his mood first. Happy, tell him everything. Brooding, eat dinner quickly, run downstairs, and say nothing.

I heard the key in the lock. "Be cordial. Be calm." I repeated it over and over. He strolled in, wearing a dark gray tailored suit, a white oxford shirt, and a fine pinpoint print tie of gray, black, and white. He appeared to be a corporate executive, but his face betrayed his true profession. With a stern profile, he added nobility with a dash of earthiness. A man at war with the elements, he tried to capture life and hold it still for all eternity.

He put down his briefcase and flashed his killer smile at me. The devil would wear his smile when he collected my soul. He possessed me and knew it. I was defenseless against him, as many had been before me, no doubt. He swept me up in his arms, kissed me senseless, and then put me back on the ground.

"Dinner is ready," I said.

"Smells delicious." He loosened his tie and started down the hall to change his clothes.

"I had no idea of the sheer volume of correspondence you receive. Your emails are incredible. I made a list of ones you should review. I did delete a lot. From personal experience, I know you don't suffer from erectile dysfunction. I have a stack of questions when you have time. And your father called."

I followed him, got all my information out quickly, and waited for the storm. His jaw stilled and tensed.

"What did he want?" He spoke as if I were his emissary back from the sworn enemy's camp.

"He knows you're organizing a meeting about your mother's interests."

"Damn."

He threw his suit coat to the floor and paced. I knew the feeling.

"He wants an invitation and will be in Chicago next week. He asked me to keep him abreast."

"Fuck him. Don't give him anything, do you understand?"

"I know."

I valued my ears attached to my head.

"Did he say anything else?"

"He asked if we are engaged."

"Grant, the architect, is feeding him information. No wonder he was happy to see us at the Reign Bar. Useless son of a bitch."

He swore and ripped at his shirt. I crept out of his room, picked up my purse, and left before he noticed. I took the stairs hoping it would help me calm down. In the hall, I fumbled my keys, and they fell to the floor. He picked them up and unlocked the door.

"I did a good job of scaring the shit out of you," he said, leading me in.

"I'm not scared. I'm exhausted from dealing with you and your father. I left the papers in your office with notes attached. I would appreciate it if you went through some of them tonight. I'll continue wading through in the morning." I closed the door.

The walls had eyes and ears when it came to celebrities.

"Am I being dismissed for the evening?" he asked as he hugged me.

"Yes, I'm not used to dealing with so much anger in one day." His heart pounded through his chest.

Did blood really boil?

"I'm sorry. I should have expected an attack. Don't answer the phone unless you know who's on the line. Rely on the machine. I always do."

"He said he knew you wouldn't call him back. I don't want to be the middleman. I don't have the stomach for it."

"Don't worry. It won't happen again."

He kissed me and rested his chin on my head.

"I'm a tyrant, and so is he. I'm intolerant, and so is he. I see myself becoming more like him, and it drives me crazy. But I can't stop. I'm wired the same way. I love the power and control. I like the fact that I can get the best table and immediate service. I like the money I'm rolling in. I love having people drop everything to accept my call. My talent comes from my mother, but everything else is his. I love him and hate him for it. I can be an egotistical, arrogant, pampered, selfish bastard," he said.

"You've been nice to me."

"I like you."

"I like you too." Probably loved him a little too. "It's none of my business, but you should talk to your dad."

"What's to say? He loves and hates the fact I'm his clone. He wants a strong, worthy son he can control. He's proud of what I have become. He also takes full credit for it. He feels he owns me. That's why I changed my name after my mother died to remind him some of me will be hers forever."

"You two need to sit down and…"

His hands tucked up under my shirt, stroked my waist, and moved toward my breasts.

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you," I said.

"I promise to listen to every word."

"Dinner's getting cold upstairs."

His hands were rough with calluses. A workman's hands. They knew exactly where to push and pull. Pasta was better served cold. I unzipped my pants.

CHAPTER SEVEN

An hour later, we sat on his office floor, slurped noodles, and went through my questions. His answers were succinct and directions clear. I took notes and got everything ready for tomorrow. We finished at midnight.

"I have one last question," I said.

"Yes, you may move in with me. No, you may not quit."

I hadn't thought of those questions. Both would have been smarter choices.

"What about your father?" I asked.

"I will deal with him when I'm ready," he said in a low and menacing tone.

"He was her husband. I'm sure he loved her too." I touched his arm.

"Alexia, don't interfere or give advice to me about him." He leaned into me.

"He's all you have now," I said.

"Drop it."

I got up to leave. He stood up with me, took my hand, and kissed it.

"I know you're trying to help, but we're a lost cause," he said.

"Only because you say so. Talk to him."

"Alexia," he said seductively.

"No, I'm going home now. According to most magazines and daytime talk shows, men aren't supposed to be able to perform more than once a day. You are a freak of nature," I said.

"I apologize for my aptitude. You wouldn't desert me in my time of need."

"Yes I would. If you ply me with sex when I disagree with you, we'll fight all the time. Good night, Benjamin Nance Cobb."

He led me to the door.

"From what I can see, you're doing great a great job. Thank you," he said.

"See you tomorrow."

"No, see you later today."

After all my extracurricular activities, I should be comatose until noon. It had the opposite effect. I fell sound asleep, awoke refreshed, and ready for more. I lived in the erogenous zone. I arrived at his quiet condo and noticed his bedroom door was shut. Poor fella, I wore him out.

I tiptoed to his office and closed the door. I sat at the desk and arranged my folders. Just call me Ms. Organization. I color-coded tabs based on his artist stuff, his mother's business, and his business life. I found a pair of shoes in the bottom drawer of the desk. Red 'fuck me' strap-on sandals with six-inch stiletto heels. I tried one on. They fit, but I almost twisted an ankle trying to stand up. Let the past bury itself in concrete. I didn't want a list of who warmed his bed before me. I reigned here now and woe to the bitch who tried to dethrone me.

The phone extension light blinked on. I must have knocked the receiver off the hook when I moved the piles. I went to replace it and heard Ben's voice. Eavesdropping and invasion of privacy could now be listed on my resume. I picked up the receiver and pushed down the button with my finger. If I remembered my spy techniques learned from dealing with my sisters, he wouldn't notice. Eleanor never did when I listened to her and her boyfriends. The information about fornication had been priceless. Irene caught me listening to Johnny Smith giving her the answers for her calculus homework. She talked dirty with a French accent, and I burst out laughing. I ended up doing her math homework and saved her from being done by Mr. Smith.