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  But I couldn’t fool myself; it hurt a little to write that blurb. It was one thing to try and think of him as gay when I was working so close with him, taking in his scent, feeling his hand on the small of my back as he escorted me around his workroom. But the cold reality of him disco dancing, sweating, and otherwise getting all up on some hot gay men on the dance floor…well, that was a harder pill to swallow.

  Nevertheless, the show must go on, and the wiring between my brain and my lady parts would have to be upgraded to something that could distinguish between gay and straight.

  As tired as I was, I jumped out of bed that morning looking forward to my day with Avis. She kept me laughing, she kept me honest, and she kept me excited about getting up every morning, same as I did for her.

  ****

  We had some soup and sandwiches at our favorite deli after we ran all of her errands. By the way, how was it that when I was out with my eighty-year-old neighbor, not a drop touched my top?

  I was gathering up our trash when I got a text from Daniel.

  “Who is that bothering us on our Saturday?” Avis said while she folded her napkin back into a neat square.

  “Sorry, you know I try to keep the interruptions to a minimum when we’re out, but it’s the new designer I was telling you about, the one from India.”

  “Now don’t let me keep you if you need to work. It wasn’t so long ago that I don’t remember what it was like to have to stop what you were doing and earn a living. I can make it back home on my own if I need to; don’t you worry about me.” This from the woman who fussed if I let go of her arm while we were crossing the street.

  “Actually he said he’s over on this side of town, and he knows I live near here and wants to come by. He said he needs to talk to me, but he doesn’t want to do it at the office. Boy, this one is all about the mystery and intrigue.”

  “Any sparks with this one? You know I worry about you growing old and alone. I know your career is important, dear, but finding someone to be with is also important. The two are not mutually exclusive. I was a driven career woman but was able to make time to meet and marry the man of my dreams.” She always smiled when she talked about her late husband.

  “Avis, you know good and well I believe in love and I haven’t given up hope, but from everything I’ve seen and heard, this man is as interested in finding the perfect man as I am, if you get my drift.”

  “Well, I do remember that tip we had about him hanging out with that drag queen at the gay club. What was that drag queen’s name again? Black Lightening…Dark Storm…shoot, I can’t remember.”

  “Chocolate Thunder,” I mumbled, as I was half listening to Avis while texting Daniel back, asking him to give me thirty minutes, and then I would let him know where we could meet. I still hadn’t decided if I wanted to invite him to my place or not. Somehow the idea of him being in my space was…disturbing. Almost like he might be able to sense all the wicked and crazy fantasies I had been having about him.

  “Right, Chocolate Thunder, such a lovely name for a drag queen. I wish we had gotten a photo in with that tip; I would love to see what she looks like. I am picturing tall and dark and sweet.” Avis giggled at her description. There was nothing cuter than watching a sweet, older woman crack herself up—and about drag queens, no less.

  “Are you inviting him back to your place? Might be just the setting you need to find out if he really is playing for the other team. You’re young and you have such a cute figure; surely if he isn’t attracted to you, we can firmly put him in the gay category.”

  “Avis, please. You and I both know that by today’s standards I would not fall in the ‘cute figure’ category. I’ve always been under the ‘she has such a pretty face, if she would just lose some weight’ category. But you’re very kind to think otherwise. This man is around sexy, sophisticated models all day; I’m sure the sight of a cute but plump woman wouldn’t be the thing that would pull him over to the hetero side.”

  “But didn’t you say he had a dress form that was more plus than minus size? I think it sounds like this young man has an excellent idea of what a cute figure is.”

  “His mother. He uses that dress form because that was the size his mother and sisters were when he designed clothes for them. Even if he does believe larger women are more attractive, I don’t think reminding him of his sisters or his mama is going to work in my favor.” Bless her heart, she was always trying to make me feel better about myself.

  “Well, if he was a smart man, he would know that a few extra pounds on a woman is good thing. We aren’t fragile; we can be tossed around a little bit and we bounce back, and as my dear departed husband used to say, it was just more cushion for the pushing.” She smiled wickedly and wagged her eyebrows at me.

  The combination of her naughty words and her eyebrow wiggle had me spewing my drink out. Of course. Of course now that I knew Daniel was somewhere within a twenty-block radius, I would start decorating my shirt with various stains. Fabulous.

  I tried to wipe my shirt off as best I could with my napkin. “You are out of control. And we both know that your husband didn’t come up with that; it was in that Jack Black movie we were watching the other week. You’ve just been dying for a chance to use that line ever since you heard it.”

  She laughed as she helped me mop up my mess. “Guilty, but you have to admit it’s true. Sometimes a man likes a larger woman, someone soft to sink into.”

  “Stop, stop! We can talk about almost everything, but I will not talk to you about the benefits of having sex with a plus-sized woman! You’re like a grandma to me, shut it down!” While the idea of continuing this conversation completely grossed me out, I was grateful that I had at least one person who was always looking out for me. In a city this big and a town this harsh (at times), it was nice to feel like I had someone to count on.

  “All right, you little sex fiend, let’s get you back home so I can find out what the dire emergency is that has forced the young, hip designer to make the arduous journey to Brooklyn.” I took the brakes off her walker and rolled it up to her chair. I was curious about what Daniel wanted. We had worked well together, and I was due to show him the new concept on Monday. Whatever it was, it meant I had lost my day of me time. Oh well, duty called.

  I navigated Avis through the street traffic while mentally ticking off the pros and cons of having Daniel in my home. Pro, I was never more relaxed than in my own home, and seeing how his mere presence made me a bundle of nerves (the dreaded Chatty Cathy doll syndrome), being relaxed would be a big positive.

  Con, he would be privy to a side of me that even my closest friends didn’t see. My home was a complete reflection of who I was, and that included, in large part, the part of me that was connected with India. I didn’t know how I would explain the painting of the ten Sikh gurus or the carved Rajasthani elephant head hanging on my living room wall. I had never said a word to him about my Indian connection.

  Pro, it would put us both in close proximity to a soft, comfortable bed. So it would be super easy to rip off his clothes and work out the frustrations of all the nighttime fantasies, especially since it wouldn’t be a dream and I was currently wearing very comfortable and easy-to-remove cotton underwear and a lovely push-up bra.

  Con, I was wearing underwear that was easily removed and considering throwing myself on a gay client while he was a guest in my home. Yep, maybe we just needed to meet at the corner coffee shop; safer for him, safer for me, and safer for my underwear.

  CHAPTER 10

  I dropped Avis off at her place and changed my outfit before I met Daniel at the Dew Drop Coffee Shop. I decided the only thing I’d be ordering would be green tea; that shouldn’t stain if I dribbled it all over myself.

  It had turned a little chilly, as the sun was starting to go down, and I was glad I had added a scarf and sweater to the outfit. Cold weather had both plusses and minuses for me. Plus: I got to cover more stuff up. I wasn’t the biggest fan of my arms and pale legs, but
I refused to sweat to death in the New York summer or deal with the mess that was self-tanner. So colder weather offered a nice reprieve to all the skin-showing that happened in the warmer months. Minus: if I wasn’t careful with the layering, I could walk out of the house looking like the Michelin man. Nothing like a few added layers of clothing to cover the already slightly exaggerated curves I was hauling around. I loved my curves, but even I drew the line at looking like I was carrying around a spare tire—or two or three.

  When I opened the door to the coffee shop, the sweet smell of ground beans and the comforting warmth wrapped around me. I paused in the middle of the open doorway to look around and almost jumped out of my skin when I heard a voice directly behind my left ear say “Perfect timing.”

  I whipped around and slammed my head into the bottom of Daniel’s chin. What was he doing that close to me? We both groaned and held on to our respective ouchies while glaring at one another.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” I said while rubbing the top of my head, messing up my artfully arranged messy up-do even more.

  “Well, you knocked the daylights out of me and made me bite my tongue, so I guess we’re even,” he said while he rubbed his chin and simultaneously stuck his tongue out at me.

  “Serves you right; you should know better than sneak up on a woman. And put your tongue back in your mouth; you look like a child.”

  “Mamke me,” he said, lispy, since his tongue was still hanging out of his mouth.

  “Very mature. Don’t stick it out unless you’re going to use it.”

  He grinned wickedly and raised his eyebrows. “Is that a dare? Because I never back down from a dare.”

  That smile and the gleam in his eye was almost my undoing. For a moment I forgot we were standing in a public place, forgot we were still blocking the entrance to the shop until a guy behind me said, “Can you two kids take this out to the playground? Some of us have places to be.”

  I grabbed Daniel and quickly shifted us to the right to let the man by. This forced us to wedge even closer together, and once again I was enveloped with the spicy, sexy smell that was Mr. Singh. I closed my eyes for a split second to just savor it; this smell even came to me when I was dreaming. I was becoming almost as familiar with it as I was with my own perfume. It was heady and intoxicating and exotic and familiar all at the same time.

  That last thought made me smile, and I snapped back into action, giving him one last glare while turning on my heel and heading to the counter. I was so busy making my graceful, haughty exit that I missed the lady heading toward the door with her latte. Unfortunately the latte did not miss me, and when I bumped into her, a nice big splash of coffee ended up…wait for it, wait for it—that’s right! It ended up all over my chest. I guess I could get that café mocha with the extra shot of chocolate I wanted. I couldn’t imagine how anything I dropped on me could look any worse than this woman’s latte.

  Daniel was torn between concern for my breasts and the humor of seeing me, once again, look like a piece of modern art. He was able to suppress his laughter and ask in a pseudo-concerned voice, “Millie, my God, are you ok? That has to be painful.” Why was it that only my sloppy, accident-prone nature ever caused this man to stare at my breasts?

  “Are your boobies hurt?” he asked with all seriousness.

  At this point, I was the one who couldn’t suppress my laughter. “Boobies? Boobies? What are you, twelve? I feel like I’m talking to a prepubescent kid who just stumbled across his dad’s old collection of Playboy. For goodness sake, Daniel, grown men do not use the word boobies, and it was iced coffee. I’m fine.” Boobies? Boobies? I was attracted to a man who still used the word “boobies”?

  At this point I was aware of the small audience we had acquired. There were only about five people in the shop, as it was closer to dinner time than coffee time, but every one of them had stopped typing, reading, and talking to watch our little impromptu performance.

  “Lower your voice, my dear, you’re causing a scene.”

  I loved how when he was embarrassed, his British accent became more clipped and hard, not the soft, lilting accent he usually had. It almost made me want to rattle him, just to hear it. Made me feel like a bad schoolgirl who was being scolded by the headmaster. Oh Lord, there my mind went wandering again.

  “Whatever. I may be clumsy and I may have breasts—breasts, I repeat, not boobies—that are unnaturally attracted to stains, but at least I can talk about body parts without sounding like a naughty schoolgirl.” Oops.

  His eyebrows shot up across his forehead. “Naughty schoolgirl? As much as I would wish for you to elaborate on that particular comment, I think we should order our beverages and take our seats before we attract any more attention. Shall we?” He led us over to the barista, and I ordered my mocha.

  We made it to a table in the corner with no more incidents. We settled into a small table for two, and I was flustered that our knees met under the table. I hadn’t really thought about the size of the tables and their close proximity to one another when I suggested this place. Normally I was here on my own and had the whole table to myself.

  I tried to shake off the distraction of his leg pressed up to mine and blew on my coffee while watching him under my eyelashes. He had ordered a cup of chai and was staring into it.

  I looked up and sighed. “Just say it, Daniel. Whatever it is that prompted you to schlep out to Brooklyn on Saturday has to be pretty important, so just spit it out.”

  He looked almost upset at having to talk to me. Obviously this was a little more serious than him wanting to change some music or a set piece. He took a sip of his chai then put down the mug and leaned across the table toward me. “Millie, how well do you know Scarlett?”

  I put my own mug down and leaned across the table toward him. “I told you before: She has only been at the company a few weeks, and I’ve barely spoken to her. I know she’s ambitious, and I know she somehow wrangled an office out of Marta on her first day, but other than that, I know very little about her. Why do you ask?”

  He looked down at his chai and fiddled with his napkin. He took a deep breath and sighed before finally looking me in the eye. “Well, I’m sure you remember my saying that Scarlett went to university with my sister and that was how I was introduced to both her and your company, through my sister.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking like he needed to put some distance between me and the news he was about to deliver.

  “Yes, I remember the conversation we had that morning in my office where you told me all of this. Daniel, what has happened? Does this have something to do with Scarlett?” I couldn’t figure out if there was something about his sister he needed to tell me or about him or about Scarlett. Whatever it was, I wanted him to stop dragging it out and just say it.

  “Yes, this has something to do with Scarlett, you, and your future at the company.”

  That got my attention. I sat up straight and looked around. I didn’t know what I was concerned about; there was no one in this place who knew me, knew Daniel, or knew anything about what we did, but somehow I felt like whatever he was getting ready to say was going to be monumental, and I wanted as few witnesses as possible.

  He leaned back across the table and took one of my hands between both of his. “Millie, my sister called me last night and said she and Scarlett had been out to dinner and a club. She said that all Scarlett could talk about was her new promotion. She said that she was taking over as production supervisor and couldn’t wait for Marta to get back from Europe so it would be announced to the team. She also said that my show would be the last show you ever produce for Marta.”

  He kept my hand tight between both of his, the warmth of his fingers the only thing that held me to the ground. I felt like I was floating, like I was high above, looking down on all the things that made up my life. There was my job. There was a tiny piece that represented my friends and a little bit larger piece that was the blog, but everything else—everything e
lse that mattered to me, that motivated me, that inspired me—was in my job.

  What was I going to do? How could I fight this? What would I fight? Was Marta not pleased with my work? Was Scarlett blackmailing her for the job? Would I find another position in another company, or would the taint of being let go haunt me? A million questions ran through my mind. I couldn’t stop staring at the long, light brown fingers wrapped around my paler hand.

  I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t even look him in the eye. What did he think of me? He said he knew my work, but maybe he wondered why Marta would replace me so quickly if I was so good at what I did. I didn’t know what say to him. Thanks? Screw you? Laugh it off? Cry? I couldn’t get a handle on anything I was feeling, so I just continued to stare at our hands.

  “Millie, say something. I know I dropped a bomb, but please, tell me what to do. Did you have any idea this was coming? I hated bringing this to you, but I’ve grown fond of you over the past few weeks, and I know you are excellent at what you do, and I just couldn’t carry this around, working with you every day and not saying something.”