I'll Be Your Everything Page 30

  “A park?”

  “Yes. A park, the more secluded the better.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “You’ll see.”

  I have to prove to this man that I am as unpredictable as he is.

  Chapter 31

  He takes us to Great Neck Estates Park on the other side of Little Neck Bay and not too far from our, I mean, his house. I’m so acquisitive. The park has lots of red mulch, tall trees, and gentle wavy water. We walk on the beach to a rickety-looking pier. Yeah. This is the place. We go up some stairs, cross the pier, and go down some stairs to a floating dock.

  “Sit,” I say.

  He sits. “Sittin’ on the dock of the bay,” he sings.

  I look all around us. We’re alone. I sit until my booty is all up on him. “I’m going to let the waves give you a lap dance while we read, you predictable man.”

  He takes off his jacket and puts it on me backward, the bottom of the jacket covering us up perfectly. “A nautical lap dance with a good book,” he says, squeezing my thighs. “Definitely unpredictable.”

  I grind a little. “I should have worn a skirt.”

  “You wear those?”

  “No,” I say. “Let’s read ...” And do a little grinding.

  When Will I Find Happiness? is the strangest book. It’s full of random questions, two per page, written in white script on shiny black pages. Sometimes words and phrases are crossed out making two or more questions. So while the waves rock us and I try to rock his world, we answer the questions. We both agree that hunger is an emotion. I get right emotional when I’m hungry, while Tom says he only hungers for me. I hunger for him, too, but I have to have quesadillas at least once a week. We both agree that we can’t leave reality in peace, though he says sometimes reality can be peaceful. Like now. I think something can be unbelievable, but Tom thinks there’s really nothing left to be unbelievable. He’s jaded. He is a little older than me. I’ll have to fix that. When it comes to the freedom of birds, we both agree that birds have it made, especially if there’s a McDonald’s nearby. All those spilled fries. We both agree that life is made up of caves. We hibernate in some, hide in others, and sometimes get lost and need rescuing from others. I guess we’re both coming out of hibernation now. Look out, world!

  But there is one question that we answer simultaneously: No, there can never be too much of a good thing. Never. We prove it.

  As soon as Tom turns the last page and closes the book, he says, “A day of firsts.”

  “Yes.” I look at the ring. “Um, I don’t mean to press you, but ...”

  He presses me down, wiggling my booty just right. “I like it when you press me.”

  I like it when he presses me, too. “When are we going to make us legal?”

  He marches his fingers down my back. “Let’s see ... Monday morning is out.”

  Oh yeah. “But after I leave MultiCorp, we could go straight to the courthouse till Corrine begs me to come back. I plan to wear the ring no matter what. I want to wave it in front of her face.”

  “Of course.”

  And I can blind her for a change. “We could wait till after the meeting Tuesday. We might be cutting it close. I think we have to get there by five.”

  “You’ve researched this.”

  “It’s what I do.” And I’m a woman who should be married by now. Of course I know all the procedures. “I like this place.”

  “I do, too.” He puts maybe two fingers into my back pockets. I have to get jeans with bigger pockets. “You know, we could wait for Wednesday, Shari.”

  I shake my head. “Not when we’re unemployed.”

  “We won’t be.” He wraps me in his arms. “But we’ll be hustling to get those spots and ads out to the world, so ...”

  I wish I could marry him right now! “Well, no matter when, I’d like Tia to be my maid of honor.”

  He kisses my cheek. “I could get Carl to be my best man.”

  We are so weird. “We could celebrate at Sylvia’s ...”

  “Carl sure likes those chicken livers.” He chews on my earlobe. “Honeymoon?”

  I shiver. “Definitely Tahiti.”

  “It’s a long plane ride,” he whispers.

  “They have blankets ...” I will be worn out by the time we get there.

  “And very small bathrooms ...” He removes his fingers and pulls out his cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?” And at a time like this!

  “Cringe.”

  I grind into him. “That is so wrong on so many levels.” And I like it very much. “Don’t put her on speaker. I don’t want her to hear me laughing.”

  “Corrine! How are you?”

  Then there is an extremely long pause. What’s the wench saying?

  I turn and mouth, “Turn it on.”

  He hits the speaker button.

  “... and it was so horrible, Tom,” Corrine moans, “and I’m scarred for life, and I needed you, and they poured vinegar all over me ...”

  “Corrine—” Tom says.

  “... and I’ve been calling and calling,” Corrine interrupts. “Where have you been? Where are you now? Why aren’t you here with me?”

  Give the man a chance to answer!

  “Where are you now?” Tom asks.

  “I’m in Hawaii,” Corrine whines. Ooh, I have not missed that sound.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Tom says. “Shari told me a few days ago. It must have slipped my mind.”

  The devil.

  “Shari told you?” Corrine says. “How could Shari tell you? Her phone isn’t working.”

  “It’s been working fine for the last few days,” Tom says, “but she didn’t call to tell me.” He winks at me. “What are you doing in Hawaii anyway?”

  “But she told me ...” Corrine’s voice trails off. “I’m in Hawaii waiting for you to come comfort me in my hour of need, Tom.”

  Tom squeezes my entire booty with his free hand. “I know you, Corrine. You’re somewhere in the city working on the Peterson Bicycle account.”

  “The what?” Corrine yells.

  Now we’re cooking.

  “The Peterson Bicycle account,” Tom says. “You know, the competition between you and me. We’re presenting finished campaigns to Mr. Peterson on Tuesday, but, of course, you already know this.”

  Oh, this is delicious!

  “What competition?” Corrine whines.

  “Quit kidding around, Corrine. It’s MultiCorp versus Harrison Hersey and Boulder, a historic first. You’re going up against me on Tuesday.”

  And I’m grinding hard on this man. Whoo. She’s bound to hear me panting.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tom!” she screeches.

  “You don’t?” Tom asks.

  “No,” Corrine says. “Shari has told me nothing about this.” Tom tries to control his breathing, too, but he’s doing a bad job of it. “That means I must be going up against Shari.”

  I do not ever want to leave this position. We may stay here all day.

  “No wonder she was trying to pump me for information down in Georgia,” Tom says. “She’s quite an amazing woman.”

  Yeah, that’s right. I’m an amazing pumper. Is that even a word?

  “Quite an ...” Corrine starts to say. “What was Shari doing in Georgia?”

  Stealing your man.

  “She was touring the bicycle plant with me, you know, gathering facts, seeing the product firsthand. I just assumed she was down there on your behalf.”

  “She was ... This is ...”

  Corrine is officially flummoxed. Yes!

  “What exactly was she doing down in Georgia, Tom?” Corrine asks.

  “Your job, it sounds like,” Tom says.

  Hallelujah!

  “I guess old man Dunn didn’t think you were up to it after LA,” Tom continues, “but don’t sweat it. Shari has it all under control.”

  And I do, though if I keep rubbing my booty on him, I may lose control.<
br />
  “She’s doing ...” Corrine says, her voice trailing off to a whisper. “No, she ... Shari is just my stupid administrative assistant. She would never even think about doing something like this to me.”

  Wanna bet? And who’s stupid, wench?

  “And Mr. Dunn would not assign her to any account, I assure you, not even to work on an account we already manage,” Corrine says. “She isn’t qualified, Tom. She doesn’t even have her MBA!”

  “She sure seems qualified to me,” Tom says. “She let me look over her ideas, and they are outstanding. Man, you’ve been lucky to have her for five years. I have my work cut out for me.”

  “She let you look at her ideas?” Corrine yells.

  Well, actually, he kind of peeked on his own. He also peeked at my booty. He was worshiping it in silence.

  Tom pulls me closer. “Well, um, Corrine, that’s the ... How do I break this to you gently?”

  Tom should be an actor. He is so convincing!

  “You’re scaring me, Tom,” Corrine cries. “Break what to me?”

  He looks me in the eyes. “Well, she was trying to use all her feminine charms on me, and I wanted to see her stuff, so ...”

  I love what he does to my stuff.

  “I, um, spent the night with her. I’ve, um, spent several nights with her as a matter of fact.”

  “Oh ... You ... This ... Tom, why?”

  I want to laugh so badly!

  “Yeah, I feel kind of bad about it now,” Tom says, shaking his head slowly, “but it gave me the opportunity to steal some of her other ideas while she was sleeping.”

  “Oh no, Tom!” Corrine cries. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with my assistant!”

  Tom sighs. “I did. I know. Bad form. But I only did what you’ve been doing to her for years, right?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “She has so many ideas, Tom. She’s a gold mine for me, Tom. She’s the reason I’ll make partner before I’m forty, Tom. And she’s so stupid she doesn’t even realize how badly I’m using her, Tom. That’s what you’ve been telling me for the last five years.”

  The wench said all that? She better not wear an afghan or whatever that scarf-thing was on Monday, or I’ll strangle her with it.

  “I am ...” Corrine doesn’t speak for a long time. “I am completely at a loss right now. I just ... I just can’t ... believe this is happening.”

  “Well,” Tom says. “I gotta go, Corrine. I have some things to do.”

  “Don’t hang up!” Corrine shouts.

  He kisses my nose. “It’s something pretty intense, Corrine.”

  Yes, this is intense. This is the reason I’m alive.

  “What am I going to do, Tom?” Corrine asks.

  “If I were you,” Tom says, “I’d get back here as soon as I could. Gotta run. Bye.” He snaps his phone shut and kisses me tenderly. “And that is how we get Corrine to come back.”

  Very slick. “She really said all that about me?”

  “That and more,” Tom says. “I spared you some of the crueler things she said.”

  I have to know. “Such as?”

  “Promise you won’t hurt me?”

  I look down. “I could never hurt you.” Not in a million years. “So what else did she say about her gold mine?” I turn and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “Shari, please don’t ask me to tell you. Just accept that it’s some cruel mess, okay?”

  “I want to know. It will help me get into character on Monday.” I kiss his chin. “You promised to be honest with me.”

  He nods. “Okay. Um, she said that even if you got your MBA, she would write a scathingly bad recommendation to keep you out of the JAE program. She said that you had to be the most naïve person she’d ever met and that it was easy to keep you in your place. She called you a field slave. She said that you looked like a geek in your glasses and were probably in love with her because you were a lesbian.”

  “Wow!” I shout. I stand and dust myself off. “Just ... wow!” I knew she was hateful, but ... wow! Man, if I weren’t so pissed, I’d start crying!

  I run up the stairs, across the pier, down the other stairs, and onto the beach, Tom trailing behind me. I turn to him. “I made that wench,” I say, balling up my fists. “She is successful because of me. And she had the nerve ... ooh, she is going to get it so bad on Monday. A field slave? A lesbian? Oh, man, it’s on.”

  “Shari?” Tom asks from a few feet away.

  “What?” I am scalding hot right now.

  “This anger, this raw emotion I’m seeing from you.”

  “What about it?” Corrine must be put in her place, and I’m the one to do it.

  “Shari, it’s making me, um, excited.”

  Are his jeans crying? They are! “Let’s go back to our house where you’ll have more room.” I grab his hand.

  “Yes,” he says. “I have this incredible urge to fill you in on a few things.”

  We sprint down that beach to the car, he breaks speed records getting to the house, and he won’t even let me get up the stairs before, well, filling me in, right there on the hardwood stairs.

  And at the moment when I think he’s going to split me in two, I look at my ring, shining like a beacon and have some seriously evil thoughts. The wench didn’t get this, did she? Oh, she got her shiny hair, but I got this to blind her with on Monday! Oh, I’m gonna destroy her, and she’ll wish she had never been born!

  “Shari?”

  Huh? Oh yeah. Tom is making love to me on the stairs. “What?”

  “Your nails.”

  I extricate my nails from his booty. “Sorry. Just had some things to work out.”

  He looks behind him. “I think I’m bleeding.”

  “Sorry. Can you maybe ... Upstairs. Now.”

  He carries me to the empty bedroom, puts me up against the wall, and we rattle the plaster for half an hour. It’s like I’m riding a pogo stick that will never fall over, and just by holding my hips, he balances me so well we even spin around in a circle before banging to the floor and creaking the floorboards.

  And the only thought going through my head is: Corrine is going to get banged.

  Chapter 32

  For the rest of Saturday, we “christen” every room in that house, even the cold basement. I will never look at the Bowflex bench the same way again since it gave Tom the perfect angle of entry. We end up in front of a roaring fire on my couch, and I know I lose at least five pounds from getting busy there. And just when I think we can’t possibly get frisky again, he says something or turns a certain way or I make a sound, and we’re back at it.

  “Why are we so insatiable, Tom?” I ask.

  “I think it’s because we talked for five years without doing this,” he says. “We’re just making up for lost time.”

  I do not disagree. I wipe some sweat from his chest. “Got any baby oil?”

  “No.”

  “Whipped cream?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Um, pudding?”

  He laughs. “Are you hungry?”

  I’m not hungry for anything but this man. “I just want to end this night with another first.”

  He picks me up off the couch. “I know just the thing.”

  He takes me up to the empty bedroom, but instead of slamming me against the wall again, he tells me to wait there. He comes back a few minutes later wearing a pair of jeans and carrying a roll of masking tape and that overgrown Cal sweatshirt.

  “Ooh, kinky,” I say.

  “Um, no,” he says. He hands me the sweatshirt. “I thought we could ...” He pulls out a length of tape. “I thought we could design our baby’s room.”

  Oh man! I cry immediately this time. I put on the sweatshirt.

  “This room has been empty long enough,” he says.

  I let the tears fall.

  “Where, um, where do you want her to sleep?” he asks.

  I step into him and bawl. The sex is beyond wonderful, the future we have so bright. Bu
t this man just knows my every button, and he also knows the perfect moment to push it. After I recover, I kiss him tenderly.

  “At first,” I say, “she’ll have to sleep in the room with us.”

  He nods.

  “But after that ...” I survey the room. “I want her desk, a drafting desk, not one of those school desks, a drafting desk to face the window.”

  He hands me the other end of the tape. “About four feet by three feet, I’d think.”

  We tape out a rectangle. I look out the window at all the lights. Oh, the things she’ll draw, and if she has half the talent of her father, she’ll be quite an artist.

  We mark out her crib and changing table, her dresser, and even an entertainment center, but there is still so much space!

  “Books! She has to have lots of books!” I turn to Tom. “Two bookcases.”

  Tom has tears in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Lots of books.”

  Books. All those recommendations that led to this.

  And then we just stand there in that empty room, holding each other until we start to move in a little circle. “Are we dancing, Tom?”

  “Yes,” he whispers. “We’re dancing in our daughter’s room.”

  Another first for both of us.

  We spend the rest of that night in bed and actually sleep for a change. We wake together at six, I take a hot bath alone, he takes a long hot shower alone, and then he gets ready for church. He puts on a sharp blue suit and those fancy black shoes and I almost don’t want him to leave the house! He takes me to my apartment where I put on some black dress slacks and a white blouse, my only “fashionable” clothing, and then we walk hand-in-hand to Brooklyn Tabernacle.

  It’s all so romantically ordinary!

  We attend the 9 a.m. service, and for the first time in my life, I have a man beside me. I could never get Bryan to attend church, even on Christmas, but here’s Tom standing, clapping, singing, praying, and praising beside me. During the sermon, he holds my hand with his left hand and holds the Bible with his right, and during the altar call, he puts his arm around me.

  This is better than bliss.

  And when we hold hands and lift them high in the air during the benediction, I realize something powerful.