Legal Briefs (Lawyers in Love) (11 page)

“So, what time should I pick you up?” he asked. I could hear a note of strain in his tone. We so clearly wanted to jump each other. If I didn’t get out of this car we might be spending the rest of the weekend in bed. If we made it to bed.

“Nine-thirty?” I answered, taking a deep breath and dry swallowing.

“Nine-thirty it is. You bring your bad girl and I’ll bring my player and we’ll let them tangle and see who comes out on top,” he said in the same seductive voice he had used that night in the club.

“Yeah, well, you better be ready to rumble, player, because I like to be on top,” I said with a smile as I got out and walked toward my door with a little extra swing in my hips.

He waited while I opened the front door and went in, then he drove away. I walked into the foyer with a huge grin and immediately encountered Mr. Davis and the Fed Ex guy. Mr. Erectile Dysfunction signed for a package wrapped in a plain brown wrapper, and winked at me as I walked past. I gave a small wave and then climbed the four flights, passing by the Sopranos who, shockingly, were fighting again, and Donna, who was loudly faking an orgasm. Home Sweet Home.

As I headed down the hall to my door, I passed R. Nardo’s apartment, and suddenly his door flew open and his head popped out. I let out a startled yelp and put my hand over my racing heart. Seeing me, he slammed the door closed again. I had to find another place.

I got my door unlocked and took off my coat. It was dark inside so I flicked on the lights. Suddenly, something struck me as wrong. It was dark. The curtains were closed. I never left the curtains closed. I knew my habits. Someone had been in here. Then something really frightening occurred to me. What if they were still here?

I started to panic, thinking maybe there was a burglar in here or something. I thought about leaving and finding somebody to check the place out with me, but then I told myself that I was being ridiculous, that nobody was here, and besides, I had been handling things myself since I was a latch-key kid. There really wasn’t anywhere other than the bedroom, the bathroom or the closet for them to hide. I grabbed an umbrella and made my way over to the bathroom first. I took a deep breath, and tried to steady my shaking hand as I reached out for the knob. I silently counted to three, holding the umbrella in the other hand like a club.

One, two, on three, I yanked the door open and saw … absolutely nobody. I released the breath and put my hand over my slamming heart. Then I forced myself to walk in and approach the tub. Willing myself to reach out, I grabbed the vinyl shower curtain, steeled my nerves, and ripped it back like Norman Bates going after Janet Leigh. Shrinking back quickly, umbrella poised at the ready, I saw … nothing but some soap scum. Yuck. Needed to get some scrubbing bubbles on that.

Okay, onward to the bedroom. The door was already open and I didn’t see anyone but that didn’t mean that somebody wasn’t hiding in there. I crept in and tiptoed over to the bed. Crouching down, I threw up the quilt and peered underneath … at nothing but shoes and dust bunnies. Jesus, I really needed to clean this place. I sighed with relief, but reminded myself that the search wasn’t over.

I let out another ragged breath and stealthily made my way over to the closet next. I went through the same ritual again. This time, when I yanked the door open, though, something came crashing toward me! I screamed and starting whacking wildly with the umbrella. I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing in my Berserker-like frenzy until I looked down at the ground in front of me. That ironing board wouldn’t be assaulting anyone else. I literally doubled over while I caught my breath. Then I picked up the offending ironing board, which had come loose from where it was hanging on the back of the door when I had yanked it open.

I was about to just chalk everything up to a rare moment of forgetfulness, when I noticed something, the faint smell of spicy cooking. I hadn’t smelled that in months. Usually it only wafted in here when … I spun around toward the living room and looked up at my ceiling fan, which was turned on. In November.

I didn’t want to stay there alone anymore no matter how brave I told myself I was. I had to call someone. First I considered calling Adam, but I figured he would think I was nuts. Then I thought about calling Gabrielle or Jess, but they would probably mention it to Braden or Cam, who would tell Adam, who would think I was nuts. That just left…. Oh shit. I sighed and picked up my phone.

“Explain this to me again,” Bruce said, sounding confused. “You think someone broke into your place because you smelled spicy cooking and your drapes were closed?”

“I could only smell the cooking because my ceiling fan was on!”

“So?” he asked, like he just didn’t get it. I threw myself down on the sofa in exasperation. How many times did I have to go over this with him?

“So, it’s November!”

“People put their ceiling fans on in November.”

“I don’t!” I wanted to strangle him.

“You really should, you know. It helps distribute the heat.” I wanted to strangle myself.

“Would you listen to me?! Someone was in my apartment. I never shut the drapes when I go out and I
don’t
put my fan on in November because it makes me cold!”

“Okay, calm down! Was anything missing?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t have many valuables but my laptop was still here and so were my iPod and my TV. I don’t have enough cash to keep cash around and I don’t have any really good jewelry.”

“Stop. You’re going to make me cry,” he broke in. “The laptop would have been worth something. You’re saying someone broke in just to close your curtains and turn on your fan?”

“I don’t know! Maybe they broke in to try on my high heels or fondle my underwear!”

“Okay, you need to get the locks changed. I don’t know if you can get anyone out there at this time on a Saturday but you’ll be spending the night with your boy anyway.”

“It’s a first date. I mean, I’m not sure …”

“Oh come on! Who do you think you’re talking to here? You two aren’t are going to the Junior Prom. You’re getting laid, honey, and I suspect, very well. I hope you remembered all my advice. If not, there’s still time to moisturize.”

“Although there is a distinct possibility that we might spend the night together, I’m not moving in with him, so as of tomorrow morning, I need to have a plan. Is changing the locks enough? Can’t people pick locks?”

“Well, why don’t you ask the prosecutor who you’ll be riding tonight? He would know more about lock picking and panty fondling than me.”

“Because I don’t think he would believe me. He would think I’m nuts or histrionic. He sees me as a confident, sexy and desirable woman now. I don’t want him to see me as some wacked out drama mama.”

“What is
wrong
with you? Just explain to him what you explained to me.”

“And you yourself are convinced that I’m not imagining things?”
“Well ….”

“See! I’m going to find a locksmith who works Sundays. Can you please come over here so I’m not completely alone? I would come there but I need to get ready to go out later.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll be over in a little bit. Keep the phone close by until I get there.”

“So, I can call for help?”

“That too, but I may need you to order take-out.”

“
Somebody
is getting a Bed, Bath & Beyond gift card for Hanukkah,” Bruce said, looking around like Couturier at K-Mart.

“What’s wrong with it?” I looked around defensively.

“What’s wrong with it? Honey, just because you got it at a garage sale doesn’t make it shabby chic.”

“Oh cut it out! What is it with you turning into a walking gay stereotype lately?”

“I’m not turning into a stereotype! I was always a stereotype. I just hid it before.”

“Great, if my intruder comes back you can just bitch at him until he’s suicidal.”

“Don’t you have go get trampy or something?”

“I have time yet. He’s not coming until nine-thirty.”

“Nine-thirty? Jesus. I hope you have cable.”

Bruce bought us pizza. Although I didn’t actually have cable, he lucked out, because I was willing to watch both Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune with him. Afterward, there was a Saturday Night Live Prime Time special to keep him amused and I went off to take my shower. I went the whole nine yards with getting ready. I went with the assumption that Adam would be getting me naked, a thought which was still making me a little dizzy with anticipation.

I had been assembling my “Lilah-look” for a while. I had found a black lace cocktail dress in a clearance sale last year at the end of the season. It was hot. It was cut about three inches above my knee and it had long sleeves and a V-neck front. The best part, though, was that it had a cut-out back. The thought of Adam’s fingers on my bare skin gave me chills. The bra was built into the dress, but I been saving some pretty black lace panties to wear with it, along with some good black thigh-high stockings with a seam up the back. I had also found a pair of black suede pumps with five-inch heels at an outlet store.

These were the nicest clothes I owned. Lilah had style. It took nearly two hours, but the end result almost stunned me. I felt like a sexy Cinderella. The woman staring back at me from the mirror had big loose waves in her hair, black smoky eyes, dark red lips. You know, I cleaned up pretty nicely. I went out to the living room and when Bruce saw me the expression on his face said it all. I must have looked good; I had finally impressed Le Bruce.

“Lily! You look fabulous!”

“Really? Thanks!”

“Oh! My little girl is all grown up!”

“Bruce, you’re three months younger than I am.”

“Just remember, darling, don’t let him rip the dress! The stockings, the panties, ok, but
not
the dress. Now, are you all nice and waxed?”

“Bruce!”

“Did you put a dab of perfume behind your knees, between your boobs, and on your wrists, neck, and elbows?”

“Elbows?”

“Get it!”

Fifteen minutes later, even Papa Bruce was satisfied. Adam called to tell me he was parking and my nerves immediately kicked in. Bruce planned to go down and let Adam in on his way out, and I would do my best to seem calm, cool, and collected when he came up to get me. Before he left, Bruce managed to give his first useful talk ever.

“Listen, Lily, I’m not kidding when I say you look amazing. Tonight you are the adventurous woman who wrote those hot, sexy, stories, and the man who is coming to take you out, wants you. You are powerful tonight, my dear, do
not
forget that.”

“Wow. Thanks, Bruce!”

“And don’t get drunk this time.”

“Goodbye, Bruce.”

He left and I willed myself to believe everything he had just told me. When I heard Adam knock on the door a minute later, it was my inner-Lilah who went over to answer with a swing in her hips and bounce in her step. I yanked the door open with my best confident, sexy smile.

He had his overcoat on, but I could see how fine he looked. He was all scrubbed and closely shaved and he smelled amazing. We just stared silently at each other for a few seconds.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said finally, and the expression on his face told me he meant it.