Twelve Rooms With A View Part 10

"Yes they did, we got three separate estimates. One from Sotheby's." I held my gla.s.s out, opting suddenly for a stance of deliberate and overt s.e.xuality. It always works. He came to my side and refilled it with sloppy generosity, finishing off the bottle.

"So how much did they tell you you'd get, without even bothering to glance under the rugs?" he asked, coolly appraising the place himself.

"I don't know you well enough to discuss my personal finances, Vince."

"We just drank an entire bottle of red wine together in under twenty minutes, Tina. I think you know me pretty well, or at least you will within the hour." I couldn't help it, it was so c.o.c.ky I had to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You're just a really good flirt," I tossed at him.

"Thank you," he said, following me around the room like a dog on a leash. "I appreciate the compliment. Must be this place. Down in the lobby, I could have sworn you didn't like me."

"I don't like you," I said, smiling up at him. "That doesn't change the fact that you're a really good flirt."

"You're not so bad yourself," he said, with a dazzling smile full of smug self-a.s.surance. And why not, he really was beautiful, especially standing in front of a view of Manhattan with his shirt half open. Vince glanced over my head and out to the spectacular expanse of Central Park, visible from all six windows along the big room's front wall. "Christ, this place really is amazing. It's got to be seven thousand square feet, and this view! What did Sotheby's tell you? Come on, I want a number. Everybody in the building is guessing you'll get at least ten for it-if they let you sell it, that is."

"Are they going to try and stop us?"

"I'm still the one asking the questions today. Come on, what did they say you'd get?" Wandering across the room, Vince stuck his head into the kitchen and jumped. "Holy s.h.i.t, what's this? There's mold everywhere in here, have you called the super?"

I laughed. He glanced back at me, flushing with annoyance, and you could see that mean streak flare up. Mean, handsome, hypersensitive, rich, arrogant, s.e.xy, and drunk; there was no question where this was going. I followed him across the room, pa.s.sing him in the doorway of the kitchen, where he hovered like a scared rabbit.

"That guy who lives in the penthouse-Len? The botanist? He had a deal with Bill; he rented the kitchen to him. It's a mossery." I leaned on the word to make it sound like I thought he was a bit stupid.

"A what?" He followed me in but stayed behind me, still completely creeped out by all that moss. I flipped the wall switch, and the place started to glow. Len had tucked itty-bitty light fixtures into odd corners amid the moss, so it looked like you were lost in some gnomish netherworld. There were three fountains that propelled tiny streams of water through the various trays of bryophytes. The pump that kept the water running hummed, so the dark, mossy room seemed to vibrate a little and shift in the light. I took a step in and fingered one of the mosses Len had shown me; the tiniest of purple k.n.o.bs skimmed the surface of that particular tray.

"It's a mossery," I repeated. "They used to have them all over the place in the nineteenth century, now people don't do them much, except for places like botanical gardens. But Len wanted to build one, and he gets too much light up in the penthouse, so he rented one of Bill's kitchens. Look at the cedar-plank boxes, he built them himself. And some of the moss-like this one-grows on concrete. But mostly he has to create an environment that approximates the floor of a deciduous forest." Len had told me some of this stuff, but mostly I was making it up. "Here," I said. I put my hand on Vince's, lifted it, and moved it onto a particularly dense thicket, pushing his fingers into the softest part of the growth. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"

Vince looked down at me. "Fantastic," he said.

No surprise, Vince knew exactly what to do in this situation. He just leaned down and kissed me carefully, right on the mouth. His right arm went around me, he tossed his winegla.s.s onto one of the moss beds without even looking where it landed, and then he had my back up against the wall while his other hand moved easily up under my shirt, pushing it out of the way so that two seconds later, when his half-b.u.t.toned shirt was somehow completely undone, my skin was right up against his. I mean, both of us still had our clothes on, but who could tell? His tongue was so far down my throat I was seeing stars. I thought about coming up for air and decided I'd rather faint, if it came to it. Seriously, I knew it was bad news, this guy was so good at making a pa.s.s at someone he barely knew, but he was so good I really didn't care. He kept me pinned against the wall, with both hands on my waist, and then he slid his fingers down into my jeans, and I almost leapt out of my skin. I could feel his erection pressing against me, and he made a little sound in the back of his throat, like he knew he was an animal and he wasn't going to give me a chance to pretend I wasn't. I mean, it was one h.e.l.l of a kiss. Vince made out the way he talked, with so much reckless confidence it didn't really matter that everything he said was bulls.h.i.t.

By the time we stopped kissing we were both gasping for air. He set me down, took a step back, and leaned against the opposite wall, knocking over a pile of wooden trays that Len had stacked next to a bag of plant food. The trays went flying. When he reached out to stop them from collapsing into the room, he b.u.mped into something else that b.u.mped into something else that knocked his winegla.s.s off the counter and onto the floor, where it shattered with a loud crack.

"Holy s.h.i.t, the moss is attacking me," Vince muttered, shoving the trays back against the wall with his foot. "They seem to be very protective of your honor."

"Too late for that." I laughed, sounding way too shaky. Vince looked up from the broken gla.s.s and considered me from the darkness on the other side of the room.

"Thanks for showing me the mossery," he said. "But maybe we should take another look at the bedrooms."

"You know, now is not such a good time," I said. "But thanks for stopping by." I went out of the kitchen and turned toward the front door, which surprised him. After all, there was no hiding the fact that I was dying to leap on him again and let it take me wherever it would. But I thought it would be a bad idea to give him the satisfaction. He had too many character flaws, most of which I already knew. "So maybe I'll see you around the building," I said, turning the locks on the door with casual determination.

"I'd like that," he said at my shoulder.

I turned to smile a good-bye to him, my hand on the spring bolt. But before I could open the door, he grabbed my shoulder, flipped me around, and got his tongue down my throat a second time. I considered resisting for about half a second, but honestly, it is not always easy to consider consequences at moments like that. So much for walking away, I thought, my hands going after the top b.u.t.ton of his jeans. He already had mine unzipped when we heard a voice in the hall.

"Tina? Are you in there? Tina?" There was a little rapping on the door, the sound of keys. I stopped.

"Yeah-Lucy-just give me a minute." This made not the slightest impression on old Vince, who was wrapping his arms around my waist. I very weakly tried to extract myself. "Put your clothes back on, come on," I whispered, dragging him away from the doorway.

"Tell her to go away," he murmured in my ear as his fingers continued in their determination to undress me.

"I would, but she doesn't do what I tell her," I said, shoving him. The locks were flipping. I was not going to have Lucy find me in a clinch with Vince Masterson with my clothes half off.

"She can't be your mother, your mother's dead." Vince laughed, as I desperately b.u.t.toned my jeans.

"She's worse, she's my sister," I told him. He laughed again and leaned against the wall, completely amused by my predicament. Lucy stepped through the doorway. Her eyes swiped over us, then raked the room, finding the empty red wine bottle in the middle of the floor, where Vince had simply dropped it. She looked back at us and didn't say anything. She didn't even set her briefcase down. Vince stifled another laugh. I elbowed him.

"Ow, what'd you do that for?" he said, acting like a frat boy. "Hi, I'm Vince Masterson. I live on the fifth floor, Tina was just showing me the apartment. It's fabulous, congratulations. What did you say your name was?" All his s.e.xual and cla.s.s confidence merged into one dazzling bit of arrogance as he ignored the utterly disheveled state of his clothes and held out his hand for Lucy to shake. She looked him in the eye before glancing down at his hand, trying to decide if it was clean enough to touch, because it was not at all clear where his fingers had recently been. I wanted to hit her.

Vince just laughed and brought his hand up, touching her carelessly on the elbow as if that had been what he intended all along. "Terrific meeting you," he said, smiling. "Tina, you were just showing me out, weren't you?"

He looked back at me and held out his hand. I obediently reached for it and let him drag me to the front door, which was still standing open. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. "I feel like I got caught in the back of the schoolhouse with the parson's daughter," he murmured in my ear.

"It was so great to meet you, Vince," I said loudly.

"Likewise," he agreed. "Give me a call."

I shut the door and turned to find Lucy picking up the empty wine bottle. She held it out to me.

"Do you think you could put this in with the recycling? I don't want this place turning into a dump," she said.

"It's one empty wine bottle," I told her with deliberate indifference.

"It's trashy," she informed me. "And we're not going down that road this time, is that understood? It's not happening!" And then she shoved me. I think she just meant to poke me in the shoulder for emphasis, but her anger got the better of her and she shoved me. It really hurt.

"Hey," I said. "What's your problem?"

"You are my problem. Jesus-I would just, I would just like to f.u.c.king kill you!" she hissed. I didn't particularly enjoy the fact that she had walked in on me making out with a cute guy, but this was a bit out of control.

"Chill out, will you?" I said. "That guy-"

"I don't want to hear about that guy."

"He lives in the building."

"He lives in the building! Terrific! Is that enough of a reason to bring him up here and have s.e.x with him?"

"I didn't have s.e.x with him! I was trying to make friends with him-"

"Well, you seem to have succeeded. Well done, Tina. And what's this?" She looked at the front door, where my rigged-up spring bolt and door chains sparkled in the afternoon light.

"It's my security system," I said. "Too many people have keys to this place and seem to feel they can let themselves in any time they want. We're not doing that anymore. If I don't want people to come in, I'm not going to let them in."

"I didn't agree to that."

"I don't give a s.h.i.t if you agree or not," I said, turning back to television land. It was rough coming down from near-s.e.x with a really hot and deeply problematic guy to getting yelled at by your bossy sister. I needed more wine.

"Don't you dare walk away from me," Lucy snarled over my shoulder. She was spitting mad. I headed down the hallway.

"Relax, would you?" I said. "I'm getting myself a gla.s.s of wine."

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

"No, actually, I don't. Want some?" I cut through the TV room and back to the laundry room to score another bottle from the stash.

"No," Lucy countered, tossing her briefcase onto the couch. It landed right next to Vince's jacket and tie. "Oh look. Your friend, whom you're not sleeping with, left his clothes."

"Yeah, great, I'll get them back to him. It'll give me an excuse to go up to his place and not f.u.c.k him there."

"This is no joke, Tina!"

"Lucy, if you want to sell this place, we have to get by the co-op board," I said, returning with the fresh bottle. "And they can stop a sale if they feel like it, and right now that is how they feel, they don't like us. Oh wait! One of them likes us-Vince likes me."

"He wants to have s.e.x with you. It's not quite the same thing."

"For most people it's close enough. And if you had s.e.x on a regular basis, you might know things like that."

"Thank you for once again elevating the conversation. Really, it's terrific having you around to put things in perspective." Lucy stood there in her tight gray suit, not even looking at me, her thumbs moving restlessly through the air above her ever-present BlackBerry, and I knew that nothing I said, sensible or otherwise, would make an impression.

"Look, is there a reason you're here?" I said. "Is there some dazzling legal maneuver you're about to pull, or did you just stop by to make me feel s.h.i.tty?"

Lucy paused for a good long time before deigning to answer. She kept reading her BlackBerry, then decided she was done with that, pocketed it, and reached for her briefcase before glancing in my direction. "Well, let me just tell you this much: we don't have to worry about the co-op board for now," she finally said. She snapped open the clasps on her briefcase, flipped the cover up, and reached inside for a crisp manila envelope, which she tossed onto the coffee table. I could tell by the way it hit the wood that it contained freshly minted doc.u.ments.

"What's that?" I said, feigning indifference. I was pretty sure it was something big, but she was really working my nerves so I thought I'd return the favor.

"You can read, right? I mean, you did acquire that skill before you dropped out of college to run off with some loser, didn't you?"

"Yes, I can read, but since I'm stupid it takes me a real long time. Maybe you could just summarize in ten words or less and tell me what I'm supposed to get myself all upset about today."

"We have a court date."

"A court date for what?"

"The Drinans are objecting to the will."

"Well, what does that mean?"

"They're claiming that their father was mentally incapacitated when the will was executed and that Mom used undue influence, and that we came into possession illegally, so they're suing for damages."

"Well, they are damaged, but whose fault is that? Not mine."

"They're suing you for it. And they're suing me, and they're suing Daniel and Alison to the tune of twenty million dollars."

"Come on."

"You asked me to summarize."

This sounded so bizarre I couldn't believe it. I decided it might be smart to take a look at the doc.u.ments myself, so I opened the envelope. Lucy went back to making love to her BlackBerry.

"There's a preliminary hearing in Surrogate's Court on December seventh," she said. "That's three months from now. It's unheard of to get a date set that quickly, so they're clearly pulling strings. They also went judge shopping-we're scheduled to be heard by the one judge who thinks she can do whatever she feels like with the law. The one who's a cop, he probably had enough clout in the legal system to put this where they wanted it. The other one is some sort of princ.i.p.al at the Dalton School, so he knows absolutely everybody. In any case, they pulled strings."

I paged through the papers in front of me and tried to make sense of them. They seemed utterly incomprehensible, and for a moment I thought, Maybe Lucy's right, maybe I never really did learn to read properly.

"They're suing us-like suing us, for money?"

"That's a separate action, they're just trying to scare us. They want us to make a counteroffer."

"What kind of counteroffer?"

"Well, let's see, what do they want? The apartment! I think if we offered them the apartment, this would all go away."

"What if the judge gives them the apartment?"

"We're not going to let that happen."

"But they're suing us? So we could lose the apartment, and then if they win the lawsuit we'll have to pay them money too?"

"You're not going to have to worry about that, though, are you, Tina, because you are completely without resources. Isn't that right? Do you have any money left from the stash you found in Bill's wallet?"

"Some," I admitted.

"How much?"

"Maybe a hundred?"

"You're going to have to come up with some more and buy some decent clothes. And I do mean decent, none of this boho-loser-chic stuff you think is so cool. A skirt and a blouse and sensible shoes. Something good and ugly. You're going to have to stop dressing like a s.l.u.t."

"Anything else, mein fuhrer?"

"When there is, I'll let you know." She picked up her briefcase and looked at me, sprawled on the couch, winegla.s.s in hand, watching her with my best sullen disregard.

"Before you take off, can you at least tell me who my lawyer is? You said you were going to replace that nice Egg Man. Did that happen?"

"We have a new and very good lawyer, yes. His name is Ira Grossman, he's very experienced in these kinds of litigious inheritance situations."

"Can I call him?"

"No, you can't call him! Every time you call him it costs a hundred dollars, which you don't have!"

"Yeah but-"

"Tina, please, I don't have time to hold your hand on every single thing. If you have questions about your legal status in this situation, read the pleadings."

"I can't understand this s.h.i.t!"

"No? Then I guess you're going to have to rely on me and Daniel and Alison to tell you what to do. Get that s.h.i.t off the door, buy some decent clothes, and keep this place clean. Oh, and tell that guy to come down here and get rid of the moss. Sotheby's has agreed to represent the apartment as a historic property, and no one is going to understand a roomful of moss when they start to show the place."