Well, here we go!
Erica sighed and
opened the front door. A small bell on top tinkled her arrival, and
she took a few steps forward. To her right stood several pedestals
that featured bronze sculptures and ceramic work. Soon, a gentleman
appeared from the back and stretched out a welcoming hand. She
blinked. Though tall and attractive, this man was certainly not
Nico Sloan. He wore a neat gray suit and silk shirt, his dark hair
combed back in a ponytail with just a touch of gray at the sides.
He regarded her with mellow brown eyes, shaded by long lashes and
dark brows. For a moment, when he smiled, she swore she saw a bit
of a Sloan family resemblance.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Sloan
Gallery. May I help you with something?”
Shaking his hand, she noted the manager’s
firm, cool touch. “Um, yes,” she began, “I’m looking for Nico
Sloan.”
His friendly, comfortable smile faltered.
“Wow! No one has called me that in ages.”
“You mean Nico?” Erica knew her mouth
dropped, but she couldn’t help her startled expression.
“You’re...Nico?”
“Well, I’m Adrian Sloan,” he confessed. “As a
kid, my family called me Nico as a nickname. They haven’t done that
in years, thank heavens.”
“So you don’t wear wire-rimmed glasses?” She
thought of the Nico she knew, who had worn glasses on several
occasions.
“Only when I read.” The man produced a quick
frown. “Do you mind telling me what this is all about?”
Clearing her throat, Erica decided she might as well
go all the way. “Do you happen to have a brother by the name of
Gianni, I mean Giancarlo?”
“Oh, Gianni, yes! He’s my younger brother by
five years. Do you know him?”
“Um, yes, in a way.”
“So, you’re from Miami then?”
“Um, yeah.”
Come on, girl, get it
together!
Erica knew she could be far more literate when her
heart stopped racing and her mind slowed down to an acceptable
crawl. Right now, anger hadn’t quite worked into the equation. She
still had to deal with the shock.
Adrian Sloan’s smooth face puckered in
concern. “Are you alright? Would you like to sit down? Perhaps,
have a bottle of water?”
“Oh, yes, please.” Travel lag had somehow
caught up to her, and Erica gladly accepted the padded chair he
offered as well as the cold, bottled water.
As she took a generous sip, Adrian Sloan sat
on the edge of a cube table and quietly studied her as he spoke.
“Forgive me if I overstep some boundaries, but you just arrived
here from Miami in search of someone. Obviously not me.”
“Well, in a way, yes, I did find you.”
Sighing, Erica sat back, still unsure how much to tell the sibling.
“I do know Gianni. He’s my neighbor. Have you been to Miami lately,
Mr. Sloan?”
“Call me Adrian.” He wrinkled his brow.
“Let’s see, I believe it’s been almost two years. My folks usually
come up this way for the holidays, since my dad still has a sister
here. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen Gianni as
well.”
Feeling better, Erica glanced back to the
gallery. “You have a very nice place here.”
“Thanks. I’ve owned it for the past five
years. Before that, I managed the shop for another gallery owner,
who then retired.”
“Are you an artist as well?”
“I used to dabble in paints.” Bringing his
long leg around, Adrian leaned against the table and crossed his
ankles. Erica noticed the polished Italian loafers, and coupled
with the expensive suit, it looked as if he didn’t do too badly for
himself. His easygoing nature certainly helped her relax.
“I believe I’ve seen some of your work. Your
brother has several pieces.”
“I think I gave them to Gianni when he wanted
some artwork to hang in his apartment.” Adrian flashed a thoughtful
look. “You saw them then?”
“Yes, and I consider them wonderful. Let me
explain.”
From that point on, Erica told him about her
job and her on-going decorating efforts for his brother’s condo. Of
course, she left out the more succinct points, such as her
stupidity at being duped by
Señor Despreciable
—or rat
fink—and how she went to bed with one man, thinking he was another.
Though despicable, reprehensible, and thoroughly disgusting, Gianni
Sloan was nevertheless one hell of a terrific actor, and Erica
wondered how she could be so totally inept and naive when it came
to men and relationships.
Standing, Adrian adjusted the neat creases in
his slacks. “Well, obviously, you didn’t come all the way up here
to look at my gallery. There must have been a reason, Ms.
Rael.”
“If I told you, you’d never believe me.” She
shook her head. “And by the way, call me Erica please.”
Adrian produced another attractive grin. “Oh,
oh, what has my brother done now?”
“From your tone, I take it he’s been known
for his less-than-honorable dealings in the past.”
“You’ve heard of the black sheep of the
family? Well, that kid could get into more trouble. We wondered if
somehow trouble traveled along with him. You know, like a little
black cloud over his head.”
Erica found herself laughing. “Did he used to
belong to a gang called ‘The Kings’ Club’?“
“Oh, yeah. He even let those juvenile
delinquents talk him into getting a tattoo of the club’s logo. My
parents had a fit over that!” When he stopped chuckling, Adrian
gave her a more somber look. “Listen. I’d like to take you to
dinner if you’d like. I’d hate for you to have turn around and go
all the way back to Miami. Besides, I have an ulterior motive.”
“Oh?” Erica smiled. “Let me guess. You want
the real story of my involvement with your brother.”
“Am I that transparent?” He placed his hands
in his pants pockets. “But, yeah, I’m dying to know what brought
Erica Rael, a successful interior designer, running all the way up
here to find Nico Sloan. Instead, she finds a man who isn’t really
the one she knows. You don’t think that’s intriguing enough?”
“Well, when you put it that way...”
“Besides, I think the information is worth a
bottle of decent wine and some Italian food.” Adrian Sloan’s
sincere smile seemed too infectious. Erica found herself softening
enough to put her tentative trust in the gallery owner, and she
couldn’t really turn down dinner, not when this Nico Sloan put it
so nicely!
After the seatbelt light blinked off, she
leaned back and relaxed, or tried to considering the narrow seat
and two large people bumping elbows with her on either side. At
this moment, she didn’t care, since she was on her way home after a
crazy but insightful experience. At least it hadn’t been an entire
goose chase. Adrian Sloan, the gallery owner, not only wined and
dined her, but gave Erica some rather useful information. Whether
she wanted to use it for good or evil remained to be seen.
At least one member of the Sloan family
turned out to be charming and decent. Adrian had even offered his
guest room at his condo loft so that Erica didn’t have to spend
money on a motel, although she felt she had overstayed her welcome
and didn’t mind the added expense of a hotel near Bridgeport’s
airport. Her early morning flight out of Connecticut brought her to
NYC, and from there, a return to Miami.
In her vulnerable state last night, Erica
might have allowed the older Sloan brother to secure more than just
a friendly acquaintanceship, or perhaps, she really didn’t trust
herself. She certainly found Adrian quite attractive, congenial and
well-versed in more than just art. Thankfully, they hadn’t spent
all night talking about the duplicitous Giancarlo. In fact, as
Adrian poured her another glass of wonderful Pinot Noir and they
shared an antipasto salad and baked lasagna, he purposely avoided
talking about the excruciating topic of his baby brother. It was
not until he ordered them a tiramisu dessert that he provided
details, and then answered Erica’s salient questions.
Now, as she sat back and enjoyed the rumble of the
jet liner beneath her feet, Erica planned and plotted. Oh,
Giancarlo Sloan would pay for his sins! But first things first. She
needed to perform the second ritual in order to rid herself of any
feelings she may have had, whether for the fictitious Nico, or
egad, Gianni Sloan! In fact, she wouldn’t mind spending an extra
two hundred if Madam Paola could make her a huge voodoo doll in the
investment broker’s likeness, and provide two long and sharp
needles besides! Just the pleasure of “sticking it to him” made her
tingle with delight.
For a moment, Erica allowed her revenge-laden
thoughts to drift back to Adrian Sloan. He certainly wanted to keep
the lines of communication open. A long distance romance? Despite
the fact she found him charming and easy to talk to, she hadn’t
experienced the
oomph!
a woman felt when attracted to a man.
Heaven forbid that she should feel that way about Giancarlo Sloan!
Yet, the mental images of his face, his hair, and his body kept
returning to haunt her.
No, no, no!
That all-too-tempting
image should have been of the non-existent twin, Nico! She had
absolutely no feelings for Gianni, the most vile, depraved, immoral
creature to ever cross her path! No woman—no decent, sane woman—
could ever love someone that despicable!
The minute Erica walked into the Miami
terminal she called her co-worker and partner in magic. Sacha
answered, his voice brimming with curiosity, but she staved off his
questions until she could see him in person.
“I’m going to take a cab,” she told him, “and
pick you up at the office. Then, we need to go get that second
potion from the Santera. I want any and all feelings about that man
banished from my mind for all eternity!”
“Oooh, girlfriend! I absolutely love a good
revenge story! He done her wrong, and she ain’t going to take it
lying down no more!”
“I also have a plan,” Erica snarled with a
curl of her lips. “Something guaranteed to make Mr. Gianni Sloan
beg me for mercy.”
“You gotta tell me, Rica! I can’t wait!”
Sacha’s voice rose in timbre as he worked himself to an excited
state. “Let me guess! You’re going to take a compromising photo and
post it on the Internet, and then write a nasty blog about him!
Wait, wait! You should inform every woman in the universe that he
has a terrible STD and he can’t get it up anymore!”
Erica had to chuckle. Her friend certainly
had a creative mind, almost like her new adversary. Thankfully,
Sacha used his talents for more personal pursuits and not to screw
someone over.
“Oh, no! I would never stoop so low as to
look at his naked body ever again. I have a much better idea. We’re
going to design his bachelor pad as planned, but with a few
additions.”
“Oh, goodie, goodie! I know exactly what you
have in mind, girlfriend, and it’s diabolical, but I love it! Tell
me though—” Sacha paused to catch his breath. “—if you don’t want
that pic of his buff body any more, can I have it instead? A boy
can have his wet dreams, can’t he?”
* * *
“
¡Ay, Dios mio!”
Rosina exclaimed from
the doorway of Gianni’s apartment. She had come up to take a peak
at the work in progress.
“¡Que incredible! ¡Que
horrible!”
Erica looked up from draping fabric and offered an
impish smile. “It’s a new look, Rosie.
Señor
Sloan can’t
help but love his new decor. I mean, it fits his lifestyle
perfectly.”
“
En serio?
” Erica’s housekeeper frowned as she
took a step inside. Her gaze swept around the room as she took in
the hot-pink and purple walls, the cupid statuettes, and the red
velvet divan with its covering of purple and fuchsia satin
pillows.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg,” Erica
acknowledged as she tacked lime green panels of tulle from the
ceiling. “If you want, go look at the bedroom. I consider it my
masterpiece.”
At that moment, Sacha returned to the living room
with a table lamp, although not an ordinary lamp by any means.
Besides the fringed, mauve shade, the light fixture featured a
naked lady for a base, her torso and features painted in brash
colors. Proud of his find at a curio shop, he held it up for her
opinion. “
Cariña
, where should we put this?”
Erica thought for a moment as her gaze
traveled to the brass gong coffee table. “I think right over here.
I mean it’s such a showcase piece, and Mr. Sloan will be proud to
show it off to his guests.”
“
Ay, Chihuahua,”
Rosie mumbled as she
ventured through the hanging bead curtain in pinks and oranges and
headed for the bedroom.
Here, Erica made sure the master boudoir
resembled a harem. Numerous chiffon panels with huge tassels hung
about the room, while the eyes naturally traveled to the round bed
in the middle of the room with its scarlet satin spread and
heart-shaped throw pillows. The largest bolster, in the middle,
sported a quaint needle-stitched phrase that asked, “My Boobs or
Yours?”
Of course, she remained proud of her ceiling
mirror and the glittering disco ball descending from the center.
Besides the red-flocked wallpaper and little clusters of ceramic
cherubim, the walls sported suggestive but artistic photos and
lithographs in ornate gilt frames. Now, the playboy could truly use
the line, “come up and see my etchings, darling.” These etchings,
of course, featured nude women or couples in various stages of
carnal bliss.
As Sacha helped her down from the ladder,
Erica tried to make sure she hadn’t left out even the smallest of
details.
“How about those shag rugs?” she queried. “We
have them in the bedroom?”
“All three in vivid chartreuse,” he replied
with glee.
Good ol’ Sacha! He had come through with
flying colors, literally. Between his knowledge of quirky,
out-of-the-way shops and his artsy friends, he had been able to
come up with most of the decor. In addition, he had created a
free-form sculpture out of multi-colored rubber dildos, and named
his masterpiece “Penis de Milo.” Now, Erica suggested they do a
walk-through to make sure everything was in place for the owner’s
return tomorrow.