Decker shrugged. “I think it’s safe to say I’m a nude model.”
“Interesting. You’re uncomfortable telling me.” I thought for a moment. A job that entailed him being nude and he was not willing to offer full disclosure. Something risqué perhaps? Evidentially not a nude model. A stripper perhaps? No, this was Decker Steele, it would no doubt be melt your brain cells salacious. “Are you a male escort or something?” I was the biggest Debra Messing fan alive and had watched The Wedding Date like a gazillion times. “Are you a real life Nick from The Wedding Date? I loved that movie and I always considered myself a little like Kat. I even have red hair just like Debra Messing, although hers is a little darker than mine, but we have similarities. You’re nothing like Nick though. He was far better groomed, all suave and debonair good looks. You’re more like Nick’s bad-boy brother, all wicked and menacing.” The car had stopped for another stop light. How many stop lights did New York have for Pete’s sake? I glanced to one side and noticed Decker staring at me. His brow was furrowed, his lips downturned into a puzzled frown. He was staring at me so hard I wondered if he could see inside my skull. He had that look, the one that radiated ‘she’s nuts’, but I didn’t care. I had been called every name in the book at least once in my life. Sticks and stones may break my bones but a quick punch to your face will soothe me. I grinned at my clever little ditty but then frowned at the negative attitude I had suddenly succumbed to. I didn’t do negative anymore, I was all rainbows and butterflies. My life was about being bold, brave, and adventurous, all the things I had been missing.
“Country, I seriously haven’t got a clue what you are talking about, and no, I’m not an escort.” Decker shifted again and it looked like a nervous movement. Yep, there was a story there. Modeling, nudity, there really weren’t too many jobs that met that sort of job description. I’d figure it out, or I would just call Bradley and force the wannabe English aristocrat to simply tell me.
I knew we had reached Soho, thanks to the signs indicating it. Decker did not make for talkative company. As far as a tour guide went, he was majorly lacking. SoHo was just as Google had said it would be: full of historic architecture, trendy boutiques, upscale art galleries, and bars. We drove past a number of bustling and beautiful streets, until finally pulling into a quieter area. The buildings were a bit older, and the streets were not as bustling as the ones a few blocks away. This is what I had expected though. The agent who helped me acquire the book store with an attached studio apartment told me that it was only a matter of time before the hustle and bustle of Soho reached this area. Property prices were already beginning to climb, and I had paid a multitude of pretty pennies for the run down shop we pulled in front of. Even from the outside I could see it needed work, but I still smiled. It was mine. My dream, my home, my adventure. My store was sandwiched in the middle of a set of three two storied structures, all with roof access, and this quaint trio was squished between dark and foreboding concrete monstrosities that were easily five or six stories high. My store, as well as the stores on either side, had recently been painted an off white; it sat like a bright star among the dull shadowy brick on either side of it. I noticed the shop front to the right of mine was empty, the windows and door boarded up. On the left was an immaculately presented dog grooming salon, and from the window stood two men watching Decker and I with curious expressions. I smiled and waved, and they smiled and waved back with giddy enthusiasm. Glancing across the road, I took in the renovated, tidy buildings. One was a posh looking boutique featuring elegant gowns in the front window. Beside that was a hairdressing salon that also looked quite extravagant and exclusive.
“Not bad,” mumbled Decker from beside me as we approached the front door to my shop. A faint aura of excitement radiated from him, confusing me. Why the heck was he excited? This was my buzz. “You got the key?” he asked as he peered through the window with his hands cupped around his eyes.