The Tawdry Tangerine Farewell Pt. 03

After the obligatory nice-to-meet-yous, Tori continued. "Jean, I need to go check on the caterers. I don't think Rick and Leah have met Connor and Adrianna. Would you introduce them?" Connor and his date were standing close enough that they could hear and turned in anticipation.

"And how do you know Tori?" I asked a few minutes later.

"I'm in venture capital. Tori is thinking about investing in a project and told me she likes to know her partners as people. So here I am," he said. "How about you?"

"I did that piece of art out in the foyer."

"It's great!" I had no idea if he liked it or was just being polite. I didn't particularly care.

"Plus, my father knew her husband a little. I'm not sure exactly what the connection was, our boat or golf or something."

"You have a boat?"

"Yeah. It's down at The Point right now. I'm trying to decide if that's where I want to keep it."

"I've got a boat there, a Viking Sport Cruiser 70."

"Nice!"

And, as primed in advance, Leah broke in, pouting a little. "You promised! No boat or golf talk tonight."

"Sorry, hon." I gave Connor a rueful look that implied: What can I say? Out loud, "We can have a drink some time down on the docks."

"Sure." His attention went back to Leah — I had noticed a few subtle checkouts — and he turned the conversation back to innocuous small talk.

A while later, the two of us were sitting in a small room, enjoying a single malt. "So, how does an artist happen to have a boat?" I could hear the faint edge of condescension in that question but ignored it.

"Dad left me some money," I said dismissively. "Art's a hobby and good for meeting women." Ne'er-do-well son of a rich father.

"I only know one artist. Molly Trevisani. You know her?"

"I know of her, of course. The art world isn't that big in Pittsburgh. But I've only seen her across the room, never been introduced."

"Oh, I wondered if she was a friend." I doubted very much that that was a casual statement.

"I wish!" I looked around to make sure no one was in range to overhear, then leaned in. "She's hot as hell and, from what I hear, just as wild."

He relaxed back into the armchair. "You have no idea," he murmured.

My eyes opened wide. "You have? Damn! Can I bribe you for an introduction?" I said as if joking.

"What about your girlfriend?" he asked, nodding to where Leah was talking to someone in the other room.

I shook my head. "We're not exclusive. Besides, Leah's not so tame herself, if you know what I mean. She'd probably introduce me herself if she knew Molly." I laughed as his eyebrows went up. I stood up. "I better get back to her. She gets pouty when left alone, and I want the evening to end pleasantly ... again, if you know what I mean. I'll be down on the boat most afternoons next week. Come by for a drink. Slip F-18."

The hook was dangling. He'd either take it or I'd have to go to Plan B.

The evening did end pleasantly. We were using a cab tonight. Leah spent the short ride home sitting up close to me, her hand resting lightly on my thigh, "accidentally" bumping where it shouldn't to the sound of small giggles. Giggles that turned to a full-on laugh when she saw my difficulty upon exiting the cab.

"Not fair," I said as we entered my building. I was glad it was late and no one was around.

"Poor boy," she teased. "What can I do to make it up to you?" I shrugged as I led the way up to the second floor. "I could do this."

I turned from sliding my key into the lock to see her coat on the floor and her dress sliding down, revealing bare breasts and lacy panties.

"Enjoying the view?" I nodded. "Well, if you don't open that door soon, I'll chicken out and pull this dress back up." I saw her glance at the other two doors on my floor, clearly feeling a heady mixture of nerves and excitement. "But if you let me in, I'll keep the heels on while you have your way with me over the back of the couch."

I'd put Leah on a Sunday evening flight after a quiet day of watching football on the couch. In the morning, a soft, "not today," as she dropped a box of tampons back in her suitcase had let me know the usual activities for the morning were on hold. It was pleasant just to sit on the couch, she leaning back against me, a blanket thrown over us, and my hand comfortably tucked inside her shirt to the tune of an eye-roll but no real protest.

It made me realize that I missed this kind of quiet intimacy. In a way, this was a tease, though not one Leah was doing deliberately. For all that I enjoyed her company, both in the bedroom and out of it, I knew she wasn't going to be that person long-term. We were too far apart in age, interests, and geography. She'd be a friend with benefits for a little while longer and then, hopefully, a friend.

My thoughts turned to Rachel and Jeremy, Sophia and Mark, even briefly to Tori and Jean, how they were each other's best friends. It wasn't really a shock to realize mine wasn't Katie anymore. It was now an Italian potty-mouth with a punk-pixie haircut, more ink on her body than some tattoo artists I knew, and tastes that ran toward alpha males, Mojitos, and clubbing.

I was unlocking the door of the studio on Monday when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see a guy climb off a motorcycle across the street and saunter across.

He was about my height but I only knew that because years of work had made estimating perspective a matter of habit. Without that, well, the overwhelming impression was some squat figure stomping along. It took a second to realize that was because he was wide. Like NFL tackle wide.

Jeans over combat boots, black t-shirt under a denim vest surprisingly short of the expected patches, gray mustache and goatee, both arms sleeved with faded ink, skull cap helmet.

"You Rick? Bruce said I should talk to a Rick who rode a hog."