The Suite Life (6 page)

“So Sam,
The Blessed Bridge
—I can tell by the way you talk about writing just how passionate you are about getting your book published. I'm not that familiar with publishing,” he said, “so I'll be calling around this week to anyone who owes me a favor. We'll see if something shakes loose.”

“Nothing you could do for me would be sweeter, Alec,” I gushed.
Is this guy for real? Or did I make him up?

I floated to work the next morning, and the thought of choosing a new outfit for my wardrobe was but one of the winds of possibility that had carried me along. Priti was in my cubicle before I even had a chance to sit down, a reception committee of one. “A heavy date has done wonders for your punctuality,” she said. “It's still forty minutes before the bell.”

“I swear, P, I've never looked forward to a Monday the way I did last night. But don't give me any medals—I'm leaving early.”

“Another date already?”

“Tomorrow.
Phantom
and a late supper.”

“He's a slick operator, all right.”

“He is just so real, so alive. I have never been out with a man before who knows exactly what he wants and says it, out loud. If he wasn't so brutally honest and transparent about his intentions, I'd be inclined to agree with you. The brunch was indescribable, P.”

“That's saying a lot for a writer.”

“I'm not just talking about the food, which was pretty amazing in itself,” I said as I slid into my chair. “I wanted to take three or four doggie bags home with me.”

Priti laughed. “That you didn't says a lot for a former food-stamper.”

“I kid you not—I'd never heard of half the stuff he ordered for us, let alone tasted it. But the conversation was even better, and his attentiveness, the way he put me at ease, was best of all.”

“I'm going to the nearest kite store on my break.” Priti chuckled. “If I don't get a tether to hold you down to earth, I'm afraid you'll disappear into the stratosphere. Did he hit on you?” Priti asked, getting down to brass tacks as usual.

“All we did was hold hands as we walked, but that felt as natural as if we'd been doing it for years.”

“No kiss good-bye?”

“A peck on the lips is all. It was so fast it was as if it didn't happen.”

“You sure he's not just setting you up?”

“If he is, he must have written the book on how to do it. We talked for hours last night.”

“He called?” Priti shrieked. “Get out!”

“I'm telling you, P, Alec's not like any guy I've known, or even
heard about for that matter. Maybe I read about one someplace, but I'm not even sure of that.”

“Maybe you should write about him, then.”

“Way ahead of you, P. I filled half a steno book last night and fell asleep with the pen still in my hand.”

“Sweet dreams, I bet,” she said and we shared a laugh. “So, what's with leaving early?”

“You better sit down.”

Priti reached around the partition, wheeled her chair over, and slumped into it, ready for a long visit.

“Alec referred me to a wardrobe consultant at Saks,” I began, and Priti's eyes got bigger. “I'm going there after work to pick out a dress for tomorrow night.”

Priti exhaled. “This is serious, kiddo,” she said as a flower delivery boy materialized at my cubicle.

“Ms. Bonti?” he asked.

“That's me,” I said with my best imitation of Alec's big smile.

“These are for you.” The boy smiled back as he set a huge bouquet of virgin-white lilies on my desk.
I don't think the teal ribbon around the vase is a coincidence.
“Have a nice day.”

I reached for the teal envelope tucked into the ribbon and read the note, written in a man's hand.

“You gonna keep me in suspense?” Priti pleaded.

“ ‘These will keep you company until I do,' ” I read.

“This guy is some smooth operator.” Priti sighed. “If you don't let me go with you to Saks tonight I'll never speak to you again.”

Tuesday morning, I floated into work and hung a sleek black garment bag on the partition that separated Priti's and my cubicles. “That suit is a winner, Sam,” she said, smiling, clearly delighted that I'd picked her favorite. I was counting the hours until I could change into the fabulous royal blue suit I'd bought
the night before. With a fitted jacket and slim skirt, it was just tight enough to show my curves without being too clingy. I knew I looked great in it and couldn't wait to show it off to Alec.

“You should have taken the heels Evelyn suggested, too,” Priti gushed. She said the consultant's name as if they were old friends.

“I've got a decent black bag and heels to match, P,” I said as I sat at my desk and eyed the blinking red light on my extension. “I'm not a gold digger, you know.”

“With this guy you could be.”

I smiled. “I'll have to be on guard about that.” It flashed through my mind that even accepting the dress was too much, but I quickly dismissed that thought.
Alec just wants me to do him proud when we go out tonight.

“You'll have to be on guard, period.” Priti chuckled. “I shudder to think what kind of bill he's going to present you with for the swag.”

“I told you, P, Alec's not that kind of guy.”

“And you're not some sucker, right?”

“Right,” I said as my extension rang, causing my stomach to flutter again.

“I'll leave the two of you alone,” Priti teased as she disappeared into her cubicle.

“You a psychic now, Priti?” I laughed, reaching for the phone. “Ms. Bonti—how may I help you?”

“Let me count the ways,” Alec boomed. I blushed. “Where've you been?” he asked, semi-serious.

“It isn't even nine yet, Alec.”

“I've been dialing your number every five minutes since eight-thirty. I stopped leaving messages a call or two ago.”

I glanced at the flashing red light again. “I'll have to be more prompt about clearing my phone messages from now on.”

“You all set for tonight?”

“Thanks to you. And thanks for the flowers—they're gorgeous!”

“As you are, Sam.”
There's that flattery again.
“Even Evelyn noticed you were a keeper.”

“I'm sure she was just being nice.”

“
Au contraire,
buttercup. She said it's been years since she's seen a young woman who didn't need makeup.”

“She's very sweet, Alec.”

“That's because she knows I'm sweet on you. But I think what really got her was the fact that you didn't beat up my American Express card.”

“I would never take advantage, Alec.”

“I'm begging you to, Sam. I mean it.”

“Well”—I laughed—“if you insist.”

“Hurt me, baby,” Alec said, laughing.

I glanced at my boss, who by now had arrived at his desk. “I have to go, Alec, or I won't be able to get out of here on time this evening.”

“Okay, okay, but I'm telling you the day is coming when I won't let you go no matter what.”

“I'm duly warned.”

“My car will be waiting for you outside your building from five on. Can't wait to see you.”

“Me too,” I whispered before hanging up.

The boss picked up his phone shortly before five, which came in handy as cover for my early escape. I slid my chair back, stood halfway, grabbed the garment bag, and headed for the ladies' room.

Not bad,
I said to myself as I modeled my new dress in the mirror and fluffed up my hair.
Not bad at all.

“Wow,” Priti said as soon as she came through the door. “Looks even better than it did last night.”

“Thanks, P,” I said, handing her the garment bag. “And thanks for taking care of this.”

“Knock him dead, kiddo.” She gave me a thumbs-up as I reached for the door handle.

It seemed that more men than usual were eyeing me as I rode down in the elevator, and I was feeling pretty great until I pushed through the revolving door and froze in my tracks.

How am I supposed to know the car?

With all the black sedans double-parked from one corner to the next, there was no way to tell one from another. But, as I should have known, I needn't have worried.

“Ms. Bonti?” A voice came from behind me.

I turned around and saw an elderly man in a dark suit and chauffeur's cap. “Yes, that's me.”

“Right this way, miss,” the man said, waving his hand toward the stretch limo parked directly in front of the entrance.

The chauffeur opened the rear door and ushered me inside. “Help yourself to the bar and the snacks in the fridge,” he said as I sank into the cushy leather seat. He closed the door and reappeared a moment later in the driver's seat. “We'll head on over to Mr. DeMarco's office,” he said over his shoulder, “and I'll have you at the Majestic Theater in no time.” As he eased away from the curb a smoked glass panel rose from his seatback, sealing him off from the rear.

Alone again
 . . .
but not for long.

The intercom crackled a couple of minutes later. “We're outside Mr. DeMarco's building, Ms. Bonti. If you need anything while we wait, just press that blue button above your head.”

I was in a fairy tale and the only thing I wanted was for my prince to appear. I stared out of the tinted window for ten minutes that seemed like an hour until Alec emerged from the stock exchange. He strode toward the limo and I slid over as the chauffeur got out and opened the door for him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sam,” he huffed, pulling me close and giving me a peck on the cheek as the door closed behind him.

“This isn't such a bad place to wait,” I said, gesturing to the bar and the luxurious upholstery.

“Just another toy, Sam,” he said, eyeing the bar. “But I see you didn't crack a bottle.”

“I'm fine.”

“Well, I'm not,” Alec said with a chuckle as the driver eased into traffic and headed for the West Side Highway. “But I will be soon.”

Ignoring the tongs set on top of the ice bucket, he reached in and filled his glass with a single scoop of his giant hand. Then he opened the small refrigerator under the bar, removed a jar of olives, pried one loose with a pinkie, and dumped it into his glass. He repeated that twice more, grabbed one of the crystal decanters from the bar, and poured a liberal amount of the clear liquid it contained over the ice, topping it off with a few drops of dry vermouth.

“Nothing like a Reyka martini after work, especially when there's something to celebrate,” Alec said and my eyes opened wide.

“I didn't think this evening could get more exciting, Alec,” I said sincerely.

“Well, hold on to your hat,” he warned, slipping an arm across my shoulders and bringing the drink to my lips. “You first, Sam,” he said, tilting the glass. I obliged with the tiniest of sips but recoiled from the taste. Then, after putting a huge dent in the martini, he said, “It's not every day that your bosses connect you to Grigor Malchek.”

“That's wonderful news, Alec,” I said. I didn't follow the ins and outs of the Financial District closely, but everyone knew that Malchek had quit college and joined the stock exchange in the
early seventies as an eighty-dollar-a-week listings clerk, and that he had rocketed through the ranks to become an icon of capitalism by using his extraordinary interpersonal skills. To him, the trading specialists who made the markets were always more important than new products and new trading technologies.

“Yeah, I'm gonna be working with him on some deals,” Alec said. He took another swig, which just about drained his glass, and leaned back in his seat. “The first one is huge, and as soon as it's put to bed I won't be delivering coffee and lunches anymore.”

“
You
have to go out for food?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking, Sam. What I mean is, I'm going to stop serving other people's interests and start serving my own. I'm going to be making my own trades instead of helping others with theirs. Bottom line? I've paid my dues and I'm done kissing ass.”

“Good for you, Alec.”

He looked at me and rested his free hand on my knee. “Good for
us,
Sam,” he said softly.
There he goes, talking about
our
future again.

He slipped a Stephen Bishop CD into the player, sat back, and polished off his martini as the prophetic words of “It Might Be You” poured from the speakers:

Something's telling me it might be you

It's telling me it might be you

As the chauffeur turned off of the West Side Highway and headed east toward the theater district, Alec refilled his glass. He had downed a second martini by the time we pulled up to the curb in front of the entrance. Alec slipped out the door opened by the driver and took my hand. I felt like a movie star as the crowd on the sidewalk watched me exit the limo.