Bare Pleasures. Lindsay Evans
She drank the water, wincing at the effervescence that bit her tongue and throat. “This has been nice, but I think I’m ready to go.”
“But we just got here.” Margot tucked her handbag more firmly under her arm, instantly looking ready to leave although she obviously wanted to stay. “Lola’s about to talk about her artistic process, maybe even invite us to her studio.” Margot loved art. If she hadn’t been yanked into taking care of Noelle when they were both so young, Noelle imagined that she would’ve gone to art school too, maybe even had a solo show of her own and been happy. As it was, she didn’t think Margot was happy at all.
“It’s fine,” Margot cut herself off before Noelle could say anything. “We’ll leave. I’ll take you home after you finish your water.”
Earlier that afternoon, Margot had unexpectedly dropped by her house to tell her they had a “sister date.” She’d barely given Noelle enough time to put away her ice cream and turn off the television before whisking her off to coffee and then the Wynwood Art Gallery. Another of Margot’s constant efforts to get Noelle out of the house.
“I have money for a taxi.” She put a hand on her sister’s arm. “I know you want to stay.” She didn’t want to be responsible for Margot giving up yet another thing she enjoyed just for her. Noelle opened her purse to flash a twenty-dollar bill and then a credit card when Margot seemed less than impressed. “I promise I’m not going to be stranded if you stay here and enjoy yourself.”
Margot was still as a stone by Noelle’s side, her version of indecisiveness. “Please stay. I’ll be really sad if you don’t.”
At the mention of sad, a muscle twitched in Margot’s jaw. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Stay here and soak up enough culture for both of us.” Although she appreciated art as much as the next college graduate, this really wasn’t Noelle’s scene. She preferred bigger spaces, more adventurous projects. “I’m getting a little headache anyway,” she said. “Tell me everything I missed when I see you tomorrow. Okay?”
Margot’s agreement came reluctantly. “Okay.”
“Good.”
Margot hugged her tight, squeezed Noelle like she was about to disappear forever, and then let go with a sigh. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
She called for an Uber and by the time she walked out into the humid Miami night and down the short flight of steps leading to the sidewalk, a car was already waiting to take her back to her small rented house in Miami Shores. At home, she only made it as far as the couch, where she sank into the comfortably worn cushions and kicked off her shoes.
She tossed her purse on the coffee table, knocking over a bottle of prescription pills. Without looking at them, she knew they were the antidepressants her doctor had prescribed. She was holding off on taking them, not completely convinced that they were what she needed. At least, she hoped not.
Noelle stretched her feet on top of the coffee table, nudging her purse and the pills. The sadness had come over her not too long after her fiancé left her three days before their wedding, tossing her aside with a sorry excuse about needing to find himself somewhere other than married to someone who barely knew herself either. Noelle had thought they were on the same path and would find what they needed together. But she had been wrong.
After seeing her doctor a few days ago, she realized she’d allowed that situation to drag her down to a place she never thought she’d be. A year later, she was thirty pounds heavier and never wanted to leave the house. It shocked her how easily it had happened. And to her, a woman who’d been so independent and self-reliant that she didn’t need a man to tell her what she was worth. But here she was, still reeling because his acceptance of her, his adoration, had all been a lie. He hadn’t really loved that, at nearly six feet, she was tall enough in high heels to look him in the eyes. He hadn’t loved her passion for food and the pleasure she took in eating. He had in no way enjoyed having to coax out her interest in sex.
A brief memory of the man in the gallery jolted through Noelle at the thought of sex. Her body pulsed. Every other thought tumbled away, discarded like clothes on a rushed journey to a bedroom. In the darkness of her living room, she blushed and skimmed a hand across her nipples, which were suddenly achingly hard. She whimpered in pleasure and the sound felt like it came from a stranger. A stranger...
What’s wrong with you?
She snatched her hand away from her body and squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the memory of him. The here and now was what mattered. He was a beautiful fantasy she needed to wipe from her mind.
But, lying in the dark with her body pulsing dimly for the stranger, Noelle found that was easier said than done.
A week after the gallery exhibition, Lex still couldn’t get the stunning woman out of his mind. At work, he sat in front of his two computer monitors, his mind buried in code until, jolted by his knee, a pencil rolled across his desk, heading for the floor. He caught it. And the smoothness of the pencil between his fingers made him remember the sharp heel of the woman’s black shoes, the curve of her foot and the line of her calf.
“Diallo, it’s after seven.” He flinched when his boss rapped loudly on his door before pushing it open. He squinted at Lex, square hipster glasses magnifying his gray eyes. “Go home!” They were finally in the homestretch of the project. He could afford to be generous with free time. “Work on it there.” Or not. Then he was gone, leaving Lex alone with the pencil still clutched in his hand and his mind still full of her.
This celibacy thing was going just great.
After giving his body enough time to calm down, he packed up his work laptop and left the office for the short drive to his house. For the first time in weeks, he was getting home before ten with the project almost finished and his boss well on the way to acting human again. Which made Lex happy. If anyone had asked him ten years ago if he would have felt fulfilled working for a small tech firm in midtown Miami, living in a modest house his parents and most of his siblings could afford with pocket change, he would’ve said they were crazy. But his contentment came in small packages these days.
When he opened the door, the music he’d programmed to turn on as soon as he walked into the house started playing from the speakers installed in every room. Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Boogie Wonderland.” At the kitchen counter, he sorted through his mail. Bills. An invitation to a wedding. An envelope with no return address. He frowned and turned it over. The envelope was small and square, just large enough to fit a thank-you note. He slit it open and turned it upside down. A Monopoly card fell to the countertop.
The only thing that surprised him was his lack of surprise.
So she had noticed him at the gallery. The card sat on the speckled-gray granite, innocuous-looking but very far from that. It was an old-fashioned “Get Out of Jail Free” card, orange and rectangular. It looked brand-new. Without examining it too closely, he saw that an address was scribbled on the bottom of the card, along with a date and time. Lex closed his eyes and released a slow breath. When he opened them again, he wasn’t seeing his own kitchen; instead, he saw the red velvet couches and wide stage of the Kingston strip club where he had hidden from himself for nearly two years, dancing and showing his body off to women who had the money and the time to look.
That time was ten years behind him, but the card brought it back as if it was yesterday.
The date on the card was two days away. A Saturday. He didn’t waste his time wondering what she wanted. He left the card on the counter and finished sorting his mail. Saturday would come soon enough.
* * *
And it did. When the time came, he dressed like it was any other weekend, in jeans and a T-shirt, pushed his feet in leather sandals and left for the address on the card. It was a small Jamaican restaurant