The Allure Of Julian Lefray Part 17

"Hey Margery. This is Beth. Beth Montgomery-yes, yes. I'm good."

There were more mumbles on the other end of the line as Beth and Margery went through the standard pleasantries. Then finally, she smiled up at me.

"I'm glad everything is going good for you. We'll have to catch up for dinner soon," she said. "I actually called though because I have a favor to ask you."

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Julian As soon as I walked out of the fundraiser, I ripped the bowtie from around my neck and shoved it into my pocket. The d.a.m.n thing had been strangling me for the last three hours and it felt good to finally get a lungful of air.

A hotel attendant rushed forward to greet me. "Sir, would you like me to call you a cab or do you have a driver?"

I held up my hand and shook my head. I needed to walk. I needed to clear my head in the ten blocks it'd take me to get home. It didn't feel good to tell my mother off. She wasn't a malicious person, she was just a bored woman with too much wealth and even more insecurity.

To her, being a good mother meant providing your kids with a prominent last name and the means to succeed. What good was a hug or a kiss? To her, handshakes and air-kisses were the appropriate greetings for everyone from her ladies lunch group to her children. My father had been the affectionate one with us. He was a romantic down to the marrow of his bones. He'd had a way of softening my mother, of rounding out her edges. In the fifteen years since his death, she'd slowly reverted back to her true nature and my relationship with her had taken a turn for the worse. Now, seeing the way she was choosing to handle Lorena's issues, I wanted nothing more to do with her.

A bike bell rang behind me and I stepped aside, out of the way, just as a pedicab flew by me on the edge of the street. The neon lights on his wheels blinked bright in the night, illuminating the girl sitting in the carriage behind his bike. She had long brunette hair that blew in the wind as the driver peddled them farther and farther away. She reminded me of Josephine and I instantly wished that I was with her, that I could talk to her about my mom and she could tell me I was doing the right thing.

I continued walking the path to my hotel, staying right along the edge of the street, with my hands shoved into the pockets of my tuxedo. I was only a few blocks away. I could be tucked in my bed, nursing a gla.s.s of scotch in five minutes. Instead, I veered to the right and headed in the direction of Greenwich Village, toward Josephine. I didn't know her exact address, but that seemed trivial in the moment. I just wanted to be near her even if that meant aimlessly wandering around her neighborhood.

Chasing women, stalking their apartments was new territory for me. I'd never been in a situation like it before. Everything prior to Josephine had been black and white. Either I was in a relationship with a woman or it was just a short-term, one night thing. The parameters were laid out early on and the expectations were always made perfectly clear by both parties. This murky swamp I was wading through with Josephine was asking for trouble.

But Josephine was different.

She was my friend.

She was my very hot friend.

She was my very hot, very unattainable friend.

I kept walking through the streets of New York with no real goal in mind and no set destination. By the time I'd arrived outside of an old pizza shop in the heart of Greenwich Village, I still hadn't decided whether or not I was actually going to work up the nerve to call Josephine. I stopped on the curb in front of the pizza place and clutched my cell phone in my hand just as a young couple stumbled out. They had their arms wrapped around one another and just at the end of the curb, the girl stood on her toes to plant a kiss on the guy's cheek. Her date wrapped his arms around her back and dipped her low. I watched them like a f.u.c.king creep; they were so happy and in love.

Without another thought, I pulled out my phone and dialed Josephine's number.

It rang three excruciating times, and then I heard her sweet voice on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Lefray, are you calling me from the bathroom at the fundraiser?" she asked, amus.e.m.e.nt in her tone.

I smiled as the tightness in my chest loosened. She had me wound right around her finger.

"I bailed," I answered simply, stepping toward the wall of the pizzeria so I'd be out of the way of the other pedestrians.

"With your date?" she asked.

I bristled at the thought. "No. Just me."

"Well Han Solo, you officially win the award for shortest date ever to occur."

I smiled. "It was an hour at least. Maybe two."

"You give a new meaning to the word quickie," she joked.

I laughed and shook my head. "I'm sure she's having more fun without me."

She hummed and I stared out at the street, watching cab after cab pa.s.s by in a yellow blur.

"So why are you calling?" she asked.

I took a breath and stared up at the red and white striped awning above me. Time to bite the bullet.

"I'm standing outside Ray's Pizzeria."

"Where?"

"Ray's Pizzeria."

"Uhh, that's only a block over from me. Why are you there?"

"I was in the neighborhood," I lied.

"Mhm. Try again."

I tapped my knuckles against the brick, trying to think of another excuse.

"I really like their pizza. Ray is my G.o.dfather."

She laughed.

"Sure. Sure. Why wouldn't you have an Italian G.o.dfather that happens to live in Greenwich Village?"

I faked a gasp. "I know, small world, huh? Some might call it destiny."

She laughed and I reveled in the sound of it. Light, easy, carefree. I wanted to h.o.a.rd the ability to make her laugh for only myself. I was a greedy a.s.shole when it came to Jo.

Silence hung on the phone between us as I waited for her to invite me to her place and she waited for me to push the arbitrary line she'd set up. I knew she didn't want to date her boss. I knew I should have left her alone.

And yet, I didn't.

"You're relentless," she said after a few moments. "I should have ordered that shock collar."

I didn't argue.

"Buy me a slice of pizza and meet me outside my apartment on Grove Street. I'll let you up if you come bearing pepperonis."

I turned to step into the shop, praying they didn't take forever.

"What else do you want?" I asked.

"Whatever looks good. Now hang up so that I can clean up before you get here. I have, like, unmentionables in my living room and stuff. I know I come off as really put together at work, but I'm kind of a slob."

Jo wasn't kidding. She lived a block over from the pizza shop and when I approached her building with pizza in hand, I saw her perched right outside. She was on the last step of the stoop, wearing red and white polka dot pajama pants and a University of Texas sweatshirt. Her hair was a mess of curls piled high on her head and she was wearing black-framed gla.s.ses.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she joked as I approached.

"I feel so overdressed in a tux. You should have told me the theme for the night was 'eccentric cat lady'." I smiled and handed her the box of warm pizza.

She glanced down at her chest and then back up at me. "Are you kidding? This is my fancy sweatshirt. I only wear it when I'm around royalty and stuff."

I laughed, taken aback by how refreshing she was. I'd already known that about her, but coming straight to her apartment after leaving the fundraiser gave it a stark clarity. The contrast between a woman like Priscilla and Jo was like night and day.

"Stop staring at me and let's go inside," she said with a weird smile.

Had I been staring?

"So this is home?" I asked, glancing behind her.

She lived in a stout, red brick building with iron bars across the first floor windows. It was one of the most worn down buildings on the street, but I knew the rent probably didn't reflect that. Nothing in this area of the city was cheap. She pushed open the front door to reveal a dark foyer leading to a narrow staircase in the very center.

"Yup. It's my home for now," she answered with a shrug.

An older short man was checking his mail on the side of the foyer. A brown yamaka rested on the crown of his head and he moved at a glacial pace as he extracted letters from his small cubbyhole.

"Hey Isaac," Josephine called as we made for the base of the stairs.

"Oh! h.e.l.lo Josephine!" he exclaimed, turning to face us. "Who is this oysgeputst mentsch with the pitse?" he whispered noisily in her ear.

"Just a friend, Isaac. Goodnight!"

"Friend of yours?" I asked as we hit the second floor landing and started up the next round of stairs.

Jo turned over her shoulder and smiled. "He's a rabbi and sometimes I help feed his goldfish if he's running late. Did you know they have Kosher fish flakes?"

After three more flights of stairs, I peeled off my tuxedo jacket and followed Josephine to the end of the hallway. She stuck her key into the lock, twisted it around, and then turned back to stare at me.

I could just make out her green eyes through the glare on her gla.s.ses. She suddenly seemed unsure of herself.

"Once I let you in here, you're not going to look at me the same anymore."

I frowned. "What? Why?"

She smiled. "It's just that my ratmates are really sensitive and I don't want you to insult their home."

I held my hand up in mock seriousness. "Why do you think I ordered extra cheese?"

She laughed and pushed the door open so I could catch my first glimpse inside. It was by anyone's standards a modest studio apartment. In all, it couldn't have been more than 450 square feet, including the tiny patio off the main living room.

"Okay, good, because the rats and I have an understanding. They live rent free as long as we watch Ratatouille every single night. They love the chase scene."

"Jo, seriously it's not that bad."

It was bad. Worse than how I'd lived in college, but she'd done her best to add her charm to the place. One of the walls of the living room was covered with a bright tapestry. She'd shoved houseplants along the windows and multicolored striped rugs covered most of the old wood floors.

"I like it. You have a knack for making the best out of any situation," I said, turning in a circle to get a better look.

"Well at least let me take you on a tour," she said, reaching for my hand. I tried to act casual about the fact that our fingers were twined together, but I was sure she could read the shock on my face.

"Here is the kitchen," she said, taking a step to the left.

I took a step as well, pivoting my body in the direction of the small kitchen area.

"And then here's the bathroom, bedroom, living room, and foyer," she listed off, taking a step to the right and gesturing to the rest of the small room.

I laughed.

"d.a.m.n, after all that walking, I think we need some pizza," I said.

"Definitely," she confirmed with a nod.

I pulled her toward the couch. We fell back into the cushions, aligned hip to hip with the box balanced across both of our thighs.

I opened the box so she could reach in for the first slice. The pepperonis were about the size of my head and I could tell from the smell that they used garlic and basil in the sauce. I could have eaten the entire box myself. We each took a piece and folded them in half to keep the cheese from spilling off the edges.

"I like your place," I said.

She stared around at her apartment, chewing her bite. I studied her profile as she processed my compliment.

"Yeah. It's really not so bad. My neighbors are really nice."

I nodded, happy that she had nice people in her building.

"And bonus: technically I get to eat every meal in bed," she joked, patting the black futon beneath us.

I paused, mid chew, and processed her joke.

"You sleep here?" I asked, staring down at the black fabric with a pepperoni slice lodged in my throat.

"Yeah, it pulls out into a twin-sized mattress thing."

Before I could help myself, my brain took a very G-rated comment and twisted it into every R-rated fantasy. This is where she sleeps. This is where she has s.e.x.

"Which way do you sleep?" I asked.

"Why?"