Wallbanger

Chapter Seven
POKE.
“Grrr.”
Poke. Knead, knead. Poke.
“Enough.”
Knead, knead, knead. Head butt.
“I realize you don’t know how to read a calendar, but you should know when it’s Sunday. Seriously, Clive.”
Hard head butt.
I rolled over, away from Clive’s head butts and persistent poking, and pulled the covers over my head. Flashes of the night before kept appearing. Simon in Jillian’s kitchen with the intro heard round the world. His friends calling me Pink Nightie Girl. Benjamin putting two and two together when he learned I was the Pink Nightie Girl. Kissing Simon. Mmm, kissing Simon.
No, no kissing the Simon! I snuggled deeper under the covers.
Sweet dreams and thin walls…Sheer mortification washed over me as I remembered his parting words. I burrowed farther under the covers. My heart beat faster, thinking about how embarrassed I’d been. Heart, pay no attention to that girl below the covers.
Last night had been decidedly dream free, but to make sure no one (Simon) could hear me screaming in passion, I’d slept with the TV on. The revelation that Simon had heard me dreaming of him had thrown me for such a loop that I flipped endlessly through the channels, trying to find something that would not sound like me having my own version of the Simon Wet Dream. I ended up on the all-infomercial channel, which, of course, kept me up later that I’d planned. Everything they sold was fascinating. I had to pry the cell phone out of my own hand at three thirty a.m. when I almost ordered the Slap Chop—to say nothing of the half hour I will never get back after watching Bowser try to sell me the Time Life collection of songs from the fifties.
All this was in addition to listening to the sounds of Tommy Dorsey coming through the wall. They made me smile. I can’t lie.
I stretched lazily under the sheet, stifling a giggle as I watched the shadow of Clive stalking me, trying to figure out a way in. He tried every angle as I deflected his advances. Finally, he resumed his poke-poke-knead approach, and I popped my head back up to laugh at him.
I could handle this thing with Simon. I didn’t have to be totally embarrassed. Sure, my O was gone, maybe for forever. Sure, I’d been having sex dreams about my overly attractive and overly confident neighbor. And sure, said neighbor had heard these dreams and commented on them, getting the last word in an already extremely bizarre evening.
But I could handle this. Of course I could. I’d just acknowledge it before he could—take the wind out of his sails, as it were. He didn’t always have to have the last word. I could recover from this and keep our ridiculous little truce going.
I’m totally screwed.
Just then I heard the alarm go off next door, and I froze. Then I recovered and slipped back under the covers, leaving just my eyes peeping over.
Wait, why was I hiding? He couldn’t see me.
I heard him slap at the alarm clock, and his feet hit the floor. Why was he up so early? When all was quiet, you truly could hear through these walls. How the hell did I not realize before that if I could hear him, he could obviously hear me. I felt my face color as I thought of my dreams again, but then I got control. This was further aided by Clive head butting the small of my back in an attempt to physically push me from the bed to give him his breakfast.
“Okay, okay, let’s get up. God, you’re such a little jerk sometimes, Clive.”
He fired back a reply over his cat shoulder as he stalked toward the kitchen.
After getting Mr. Clive fed and running myself through the shower, I headed out to meet the girls for brunch. I was leaving the building while looking at my phone, answering a text from Mimi, when I collided with a wet, hot wall of Simon.
“Whoa,” I cried as I teetered backward. His arm shot out and caught me just before I went from flustered to flat-out wrong and on my bottom.
“Where are you running off to this morning?” he asked, as I took him in. Sweaty white T-shirt, black running shorts, damp curly hair, iPod, and a grin.
“You’re sweaty,” I word-vomited.
“I am sweaty. It happens,” he added, sweeping the back of his hand across his forehead, making his hair stand straight up. I had to physically block the neurons from my brain trying to get to my fingers with instructions to lift and nestle. Lift and nestle.
He stared down at me, his blue eyes twinkling. He’d make this painful if I didn’t go ahead and out the giant sex elephant in the room.
“So listen, about last night,” I started.
“What about last night? The part where you were berating me about my sex life? Or the part where you were sharing my sex life with your friends?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and raising his T-shirt to wipe his face. I drew in a breath that sounded like a wind tunnel as I stared at abs that could almost be speedbumps. Why couldn’t he be a soft, fat neighbor?
“No, I mean the crack you made about the sweet dreams. And the…well…the thin walls,” I stammered, avoiding all eye contact. I was suddenly fascinated by my new shade of toenail polish. It was lovely…
“Ah, yes, the thin walls. Well, they work both ways, you know. And if someone were to, say, have a very interesting dream some night, well, let’s just say it would be quite entertaining,” he whispered. My knees went a little wobbly. Damn him and his voodoo…
I had to get back in control. I backed up a step.
“Yes, you may have heard something I would have preferred you not hear, but that’s not the way things always go down. So, you got me. But you won’t actually ever have me, so let’s move on. You got that? And brunch, by the way,” I finished, concluding my diatribe.
He looked confused and amused at the same time. “Brunch, by the way?”
“Brunch. You asked where I was off to this morning, and my answer is brunch.”
“Ah, got it. And are you meeting your girls that were out with my guys last night?”
“I am, and I will gladly share the scoop with you if it’s any good,” I laughed, twirling a piece of hair around my finger. Nice. Flirting 101. What the hell?
“Oh, I’m sure it’s good scoop. Those two look like man-eaters,” he said, rocking back on his heels as he began to stretch a bit.
“Are we talking Hannibal?”
“No, more like Hall & Oates.” He laughed, looking up at me as he stretched his hamstrings.
Christ, hamstrings.
“Yes, well, they can definitely work a room when they need to,” I said thoughtfully, beginning to back away again.
“And how about you?” he asked, standing straight.
“How about me what?”
“Oh, I bet Pink Nightie Girl can work any room she wants.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling.
“Eh, work this,” I fired back and walked away with a twinkle of my own.
“Nice,” he added when I shot him a look over my shoulder.
“Oh, please, like you’re not intrigued,” I called back from about ten feet away.
“Oh, I’m intrigued,” he shouted as I walked backward, shaking my hips while he applauded.
“Too bad I don’t work well with others! I ain’t no harem girl!” I yelled, practically at the corner.
“Truce still on?” he yelled.
“I don’t know, what does Simon say?”
“Oh, Simon says, hell yes. It’s on!” he shouted back as I rounded the corner.
I twirled about, actually doing a little pirouette. I smiled big as I bounced along, thinking a truce was a very good thing.

“Egg-white omelet with tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and onions.”
“Pancakes—four stack, please—with a side of bacon. And I’ll need the bacon very crispy, please, but not blackened.”
“Two eggs sunny side up, rye toast with butter on the side, and the fruit salad.”
After ordering, we settled in for a morning of coffee and gossip.
“Okay, so tell me what happened after we left last night,” Mimi said, placing her chin in her hands and blinking prettily at me.
“After you left? You mean after you left me with my jerky neighbor to drive me home? What were you thinking? And telling everyone the he-was-still-hard story? Seriously? I’m writing you both out of my will,” I snapped, swallowing coffee that was too hot and instantly searing off a third of my taste buds. I let my tongue hang out of my mouth to cool.
“First of all, we told that story because it’s funny, and funny is good,” Sophia began, fishing a piece of ice out of her water glass and handing it to me.
“Thanh ooo,” I managed, accepting the cube.
She nodded. “And second, you have nothing to leave me anyway, as I already have the entire set of Barefoot Contessa cookbooks, which you bought me yourself. So write me out of the will. And third, the two of you were being such downers there was no way we were taking you out with our new boys,” Sophia finished, smiling wickedly.
“New boys. I love new boys.” Mimi clapped, looking like a Disney cartoon.
“How was the ride home?” Sophia asked.
“The ride home. Well, it was interesting.” I sighed, now sucking on the cube with wild abandon.
“Interesting good?” Mimi squealed.
“If you call schtupping someone on the Golden Gate Bridge interesting, then yes,” I replied, calmly drumming my fingers on the table. Mimi’s mouth began to fall from her face when Sophia placed her right hand over Mimi’s left, which was about to squeeze her fork into something unrecognizable.
“Sweetie, she’s kidding. We would know if Caroline had been schtupped last night. She’d have better skin tone,” Sophia soothed.
Mimi nodded quickly and released the fork. I pitied any guy who pissed her off during a handjob.
“So, no dish?” Sophia asked.
“Hey, you know the rules. You dish, I dish,” I answered, eyes widening as our breakfast was served. After we dug in, Mimi fired the first shot.
“Did you know that Neil played football for Stanford? And that he always wanted to go into sports broadcasting?” she offered, methodically separating her melon from her berries.
“Good to know, good to know. Did you know Ryan sold some kind of amazing computer program to Hewlett Packard when he was just twenty-three? And that he put all the money in the bank, quit his job, and spent two years teaching English to kids in Thailand?” Sophia provided next.
“That’s very good to know as well. Did you know that Simon doesn’t consider his lady friends a ‘harem,’ and Jillian at one point actually told him about me as a potential girl he should be dating?”
We all hmm-ed and chewed. Then began Round Two.
“Did you know that Neil loves to windsurf? And he has tickets to the symphony benefit next week? When he found out I was already going with you, Sophia, he suggested we double.”
“Mmm, that sounds fun. I was thinking of asking Ryan. Who, by the way, also loves to windsurf. They all do—they surf in the bay whenever they can. And I can also report that he now runs a charity that puts computers and educational materials into inner city schools all over California. It’s called—” Sophia began.
“No Child Left Offline?” Mimi quickly finished.
Sophia nodded.
“I love that charity! I give to that organization every year. And Ryan is the one who runs it? Wow…small world,” Mimi mused as she began to cut her eggs.
Quiet descended while we chewed again, and I tried to come up with something else to say about Simon that didn’t have anything to do with him kissing me, me kissing him, or him being aware of my nocturnal verbal emissions.
“Um, Simon has Too Short on his iPod,” I mumbled, which was met with hmms, but I knew my dish wasn’t as good.
“Music is important. Who was that guy you were dating who had his own album out?” Mimi asked.
“No, no. He didn’t have an album out. He was trying to sell his own CDs out of the back of his car. Not the same thing.” I laughed.
“You dated another singer too—Coffee House Joe, remember him?” Sophia snorted into her breakfast.
“Yes, he was about fifteen years too late for the flannel, but he got an A for angst. And was more than decent in bed.” I sighed, thinking back.
“When is this self-imposed dating hiatus going to be over?” Mimi asked.
“Not sure. I kinda like not dating anyone.”
“Please, who are you kidding?” Sophia snorted again.
“You need a tissue over there, Miss Piggy? Seriously, there have been too many Coffee House Joes and Machine Gun Corys. I’m not interested in just dating any more. It’s too much of a merry go round. I’m not investing any more time and effort until I know it’s going somewhere. And besides, O’s off in no-man’s land. I might as well join her,” I added, trying some coffee again and avoiding their eyes.
They had their Os, and now they had new boys. I didn’t expect anyone to join me on my dating sabbatical. But now their faces just looked so sad. I needed to turn this back to them.
“So last night was good for you guys, huh? Any kisses at the door? Any spit swapping?” I asked, smiling cheerfully.
“Yes! I mean, Neil kissed me.” Mimi sighed.
“Oooh, I bet he’s a good kisser. Did he wrap you up tight and run his hands up and down your back? He has great hands. Did you notice his hands? Damn fine hands,” Sophia rambled, face in her pancake stack. Mimi and I exchanged a glance and waited for her to come up for air. When she saw us staring, she blushed a little.
“What? I noticed his hands? They’re huge. How could you not?” she stammered and crammed her mouth full so we would move on.
I giggled and turned my attention back to Mimi. “So, did Mr. Great Hands use his great hands?”
It was Mimi’s turn to blush. “Actually, he was very sweet. Just a little peck on the lips and a nice hug at my door,” she answered with a giant smile.
“And you, Miss Thing? Was the computer genius charitable with his goodnight kiss?” I giggled.
“Um…yes, he was. He gave me a great goodnight kiss,” she replied, licking syrup off the back of her hand. She didn’t seem to notice the way Mimi’s eyes burned a little when she mentioned the goodnight she’d received, but I did.
“So, you escaped last night unscathed, I take it?” Mimi asked me, sipping her coffee. I was still nursing the sore tongue, so I chose to stick with juice.
“I did. We came to a truce and will try to be more neighborly.”
“What exactly does that mean?” she asked.
“That means he’ll try to curtail his activities to earlier in the evening, and I’ll try to be more understanding about his sex life, as lively as it is,” I answered, digging into my purse for some money.
“One week,” Sophia muttered.
“Come again?”
“You wish. One week. That’s how long I give this truce. You can’t keep your opinions to yourself, and he can’t keep that Giggler quiet. One week,” she said again as Mimi smiled away.
Huh, we’ll see…

Monday morning, bright and early, Jillian came waltzing in to my office.
“Knock knock,” she called. She was the picture of casual chic: hair swept back into a loose bun, little black dress on her little tan body, legs that went on for miles ending in red pumps. Pumps that would probably constitute almost a week’s pay for me. She was my mentor in every way, and I made a mental note to make sure I someday obtained the quiet confidence she carried with her.
She smiled when she saw the new flowers in the vase on my desk. This week I’d chosen orange tulips, three dozen.
“Morning! Did you see that the Nicholsons have added a home theater? I knew they’d come around.” I smiled as I sat back in my chair. Jillian settled herself in the chair across from me and just smiled back.
“Oh, and Mimi is coming over for dinner tonight. We’re hoping to finalize the plans for the new closet system she’s designing. She wants to add carpet now.” I shook my head and sipped coffee from the mug on my desk. My tongue had almost healed.
Jillian just continued to smile. I began to wonder if I had a Cheerio stuck to my face. “Did I tell you I got the glass company in Murano to give me a deal on the pieces I ordered for the bathroom chandelier?” I forged ahead. “It’s going to be beautiful. I think we’ll definitely want to use them again.” I added, smiling hopefully.
She finally sighed and leaned forward with a cat-that-ate-the-canary-and-went-back-for-the-feathers-to-play-with grin.
“Jillian, did you have dental work done this morning? Are you trying to show me your new dentures?” I asked, and she finally flinched.
“As if I would ever need dentures, pffft. No, I’m waiting for you to tell me about your neighbor, Mr. Parker. Or should I say Simon Wallbanger?” She laughed, finally sitting back in her chair and giving me a look that said I would not be allowed to leave my office until I told her everything she wanted to know.
“Hmm, Wallbanger. Where to start? First of all, you can’t tell me you didn’t know he lived next door. How the hell could you have lived there as long as you did and not know he was the one thumping away every night?” I inquired, looking back at her with my best detective sneer.
“Hey, you know I hardly ever stayed there, especially the last few years. I knew he was in that neighborhood, but I had no idea it was next door to the apartment I was subletting! When I see him, it’s always with Benjamin, and we usually go out for drinks or we have him over to our place. Regardless, it’s the beginnings of a great story, don’t you think?” she tempted, grinning again.
“Oh, you and your matchmaking. Simon said you’d mentioned me to him before. You are so busted.”
She held up her hands in front of her. “Wait, wait, wait, I had no idea he was so, well, active. I never would have suggested you if I’d known he had so many girlfriends. Benjamin must have known…but it’s a guy thing, I guess,” she replied.
I was the one to lean forward now. “So tell me, how does he know Benjamin?”
“Well, Simon isn’t originally from California. He grew up in Philadelphia and only moved out here when he went to Stanford. Benjamin has known him most of his life—he was really close to his dad. He’s kind of watched out for Simon—favorite uncle, big brother, surrogate father, that kind of thing,” she said, her face growing soft.
“Was really close to his dad? Did they have a falling out or something?” I asked.
“Oh, no, no, Benjamin was always great friends with Simon’s dad. He was the one who mentored him early in his career. He was very close with the entire family,” she said, her eyes growing sad.
“But now?” I pressed.
“Simon’s parents were killed when he was a senior in high school,” she said quietly.
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh no,” I whispered, my heart full of sympathy for someone I barely knew.
“Car accident. Benjamin says they went really quickly, almost instantly,” she replied.
We were quiet for a moment, lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t even process what that must have been like for him.
“So after the funeral, he stayed in Philadelphia for a while, and he and Simon began to talk about him going to school at Stanford,” she continued after a moment.
I smiled at the image of Benjamin doing everything he could to help.
“I can imagine it was probably a good idea for him to get away from everything,” I said, wondering how I would deal with something like that.
“Mm-hmm. I think Simon saw the chance, and he took it. And knowing that Benjamin was close by if he needed anything? I think that made it easier,” she added.
“When did you meet Simon?” I asked.
“His senior year of college. He’d spent some time in Spain the summer before, and when he came home that August he came into the city to have dinner with us. Benjamin and I had been dating for a while by then, so he knew of me, but hadn’t actually met me,” she said.
Wow, Simon does Spain. Those poor flamenco dancers—they never stood a chance.
“We met for dinner, and he charmed the waitress by ordering in Spanish. Then he told Benjamin that if he was ever stupid enough to leave me that he would be quite happy to—now what was it he said?—ah, yes, he would be quite happy to warm my bed.” She giggled, her face growing pink.
I rolled my eyes. This matched what I knew of him already. Although, as brash as my girls and I were when flirting with Benjamin, it was the pot calling the kettle forward.
“And that’s how I met Simon,” she finished, her eyes far away. “He really is pretty great, Caroline, all banging aside.”
“Yes, banging aside,” I mused, running my fingertips back and forth across the tops of the flowers.
“I hope you get to know him a little better,” she said with a grin, matchmaker once again.
“Settle down there. We’ve called a truce, but that’s all.” I laughed, shaking my finger at her.
She got up and started for the door. “You’re very sassy for someone who’s supposed to be working for me,” she said, trying to look severe.
“Well, I’d get a lot more work done if you’d let me get back to it and stop with your nonsense!” I said, looking severely back at her.
She laughed and looked out to reception.
“Hey, Maggie! When did I lose control of this office?” she called.
“You never actually had it, Jillian!” Maggie yelled back.
“Oh, go make coffee or something! And you,” she said, turning to me and pointing. “Design something brilliant for the Nicholsons’ basement.”
“Again, all things I could’ve been doing while you were yakking away in here…” I murmured, tapping my pencil on my watch.
She sighed. “Seriously, Caroline, he’s really sweet. I think you two could be great friends,” she said, leaning in the doorway.
What’s with everyone leaning in doorways lately?
“Well, I can always use another friend, now, can’t I?” I waved as she disappeared.
Friends. Friends who called a truce.

“Okay, so we know the floors in the bedroom are going to be reclaimed, honey-toned wood, but you for sure want carpet in the closet?” I asked, settling on the couch next to Mimi and starting on my second Bloody Mary. We’d been going through her plans for almost an hour as I tried to get her to see that I was not the only one who would have to compromise on her designs. She would as well. As long as we’d been friends, Mimi had believed she won every argument. Mimi saw herself as a badass that could strong-arm anyone into anything. Little did she know Sophia and I had figured out that we only had to let her think she was getting her way, which made her much more tolerable.
The truth was, I always knew I wanted carpet in the closet—just not for the same reasons she did.
“Yes, yes, yes! It has to be carpet—really thick and luxurious carpet! It will feel so good under cold toes in the morning,” she cried, almost shaking in her excitement. I really hoped Neil would be around long enough to romance her right. She needed to release some of this excess energy.
“Okay, Mimi, I guess you’re right. Carpet in the closet. But for that, you have to give me back those two feet you wanted from the bathroom for the rotating shoe rack that I vetoed.” I spoke carefully, wondering if she would go for it.
She thought for a moment, looked at her plans again, took a long pull from her cocktail, and nodded. “Yes, take back the two feet. I get my carpet, and I can live with that.” She sighed, offering me her hand.
I shook it solemnly and offered her my celery stalk. Clive came sauntering in and began to pace by the front door, pawing under the crack.
“I bet our Thai is almost here. Let me get my money,” I said, pointing toward the door as I headed for my purse on the kitchen counter. Just as I spoke, I could hear steps in the hallway.
“Mimi, get the door, that’ll be the takeout guy,” I called, rummaging through my purse.
“Got it,” she yelled, and I heard the door open. “Oh, hey there, Simon!” she said, and then I heard the strangest sound.
I would swear, on a stack of Bibles in a court of actual law, that I heard my cat speak.
“Porrrrreeeennnnnya,” Clive said, and I whirled about.
In the span of five seconds, a thousand things happened: I saw Simon and Purina in the hallway, bags from Whole Foods in hands, key in front door. I saw Mimi at the door, barefoot and leaning (again with the leaning) in the doorway. I saw Clive rear back on his hind legs preparing to jump in a way that I’d only ever seen him do once when I hid the catnip on the top of the fridge. Babies were born, old people died, stocks were traded, and someone faked an orgasm. All in those five seconds.
I launched myself at the door in a slow-motion run reminiscent of every action movie ever made.
“Nooooooooo!” I cried as I saw a look of panic cross Purina’s face and a look of pure lust cross Clive’s as he prepared to woo. If I’d started for the door any earlier, maybe even a second earlier, I could’ve prevented the pandemonium that ensued.
Simon pushed his door open and smiled a confused smile at me as I caught his eye. No doubt he was wondering why I was charging the door and screaming noooooo. Just then Clive jumped. Leapt. Charged. Purina saw Clive jumping directly at her, and she did the worst thing she could’ve done. She ran. She ran into Simon’s apartment. Of course the girl who meows when she has an orgasm is afraid of cats.
Clive gave chase, and as I stood in the hallway with Simon and Mimi, we heard shrieking and meowing echoing back to us. It sounded oddly familiar, and I was reminded of Simon bringing it on home. I shook my head and took over.
“Caroline, what the hell was that? Your cat just—” Simon was saying, and I placed my hand over his mouth as I hurried past him.
“We don’t have time, Simon! We have to get Clive!”
Mimi followed me into his apartment, Ned Nickerson to my Nancy Drew. I followed the shrieks and meows to the back of the apartment, noticing that Simon’s place was an exact mirror image of mine. It was very single guy, with the flat screen TV and the amazing sound system. I didn’t really have time for a proper shakedown, but I did notice the mountain bike in the dining room, as well as beautiful framed photographs all over the walls lit by retro sconces. I couldn’t admire for long, as I could hear Clive getting worked up in the bedroom.
I paused by the door, listening to Purina scream. I looked back at Simon and Mimi, who wore twin expressions of fear and confusion—although Mimi’s also showed quite a bit of merriment.
“I’m going in,” I said in a low, brave voice. With a deep breath I pushed the door open, and saw the Bedroom of Sin for the first time. Desk in the corner. Dresser on one wall, with top covered in loose change. More photographs on the wall, black and whites. And there it was: his bed.
Cue trumpets.
Pushed up against the wall, my wall, was a giant California king, complete with a padded, leather headboard. Padded. It would have to be, now wouldn’t it? It was immense. And he had the power to move that thing with his hips alone? Once again Lower Caroline sat up straight and took notice.
I centered, I focused, and I pried my eyes away from Orgasm Central. I scanned and acquired the target: there at the leather club chair in front of the window. Purina perched on the back of this chair, hands in her hair, moaning and wailing and crying. Her skirt was shredded, and there were tiny claw marks in her stockings. She attempted with every fiber of her being to shrink away from the cat on the floor in front of her.
And Clive?
Clive was strutting. Strutting back and forth in front of her, giving it his all. He turned like he was on a runway, pacing along a line on the floor and glancing at her nonchalantly.
If Clive could wear a blazer, he would have taken it off, draped it casually over his kitty shoulder, and pointed at her. It was all I could do not to fall down laughing. I stepped toward him, and Purina shouted something at me in Russian. I ignored her and focused all my attention on my cat.
“Hey, Clive. Hey. Where’s my good boy?” I crooned, and he turned. He glanced at me, and then jerked his head in Purina’s direction as though he were making the first round of introductions. “Who’s your new friend?” I crooned again, shaking my head at Purina when she tried to say something. I held my finger up in front of my lips. This would require great finesse.
“Clive, come here!” Mimi yelled and barreled into the room. She always had trouble containing her excitement.
Clive made for the door as Mimi made for Clive. Purina made for the bed as I raced after Mimi, who collided with Simon just outside the bedroom door, who was still holding his damn Whole Foods bags. Thoughtfully chosen sustainable organic produce rained down on both of them as I pushed past, hurdling over limbs and a wheel of Brie on my way back to the front door. I caught Clive just as he made a break for the stairs and held him close.
“Clive, you know better than to run away from Mommy,” I chastised, as Simon and Mimi finally caught up to us.
“What the hell are you doing, cockblocker? Are you trying to kill me?” he shouted.
Mimi rounded on him. “Don’t you call her that, you…you…you wallbanger!” she fired back, smacking his chest.
“Oh, you two shut up!” I yelled. Here came Purina down the hallway toward us, wearing only one shoe and a furious look. She began to shout in Russian.
Mimi and Simon continued to yell, Purina screamed, Clive struggled to get loose and be reunited with his one and only, and I stood in the middle of the chaos, trying to figure out what the hell had happened in the last two minutes.
“Get control of your damn cat!” Simon yelled, as Clive tried to spring free.
“Don’t you yell at Caroline!” Mimi yelled, smacking him again.
“Look at my skirt!” Purina cried.
“Did someone order pad thai?” I heard above the chaos. I looked and saw a petrified delivery boy standing on the top step, reluctant to come any further.
Everyone stopped.
“Unbelievable,” Mimi muttered and walked into my apartment, motioning for the delivery boy to follow her. I set Clive just inside the door and pulled it shut, cutting off his cries. Simon ushered Purina into his place, telling her softly to find something in his room to put on.
“I’ll be there in just a minute,” he said and nodded again for her to go inside. She glared at me once more and turned in a huff, slamming the door.
He turned back to me and we stared at each other, both starting to laugh at the same time.
“Did that really just happen?” he asked through his chuckles.
“I’m afraid it did. Please tell Purina I am sooo sorry,” I answered, wiping tears from my eyes.
“I will, but she needs to cool off for a while before I will attempt that—wait, what did you just call her?” he asked.
“Umm, Purina?” I replied, still chortling.
“Why do you call her that?” he asked, no longer laughing.
“Seriously? Come on, you can’t figure it out?” I said.
“No, tell me,” he said, running his hands through his hair.
“Oh, man, you’re gonna make me say it? Purina…because she, God, because she meows!” I blurted, laughing again.
He blushed deep red and nodded. “Right, right, of course you would’ve heard that.” He laughed. “Purina,” he said under his breath and smiled. I could hear Mimi arguing with the delivery guy in my apartment, something about missing spring rolls.
“She’s a little scary, you know?” Simon said, gesturing toward my door.
“You have no idea,” I said. I could still hear Clive wailing behind the door. I pressed my face to the edge and opened it just an inch.
“Shut it, Clive,” I hissed. A paw came out through the crack, and I swear he flipped me off.
“I don’t know a lot about cats, but is that normal feline behavior?” Simon asked.
“He has a rather odd attachment to your girl there—ever since the second night I lived here. I think he’s in love.”
“I see. Well, I’ll make sure I convey his sentiments to Nadia,” he said. “When the time is right, of course.” He chuckled and prepared to go back inside.
“You better keep it down over there tonight, or I’ll send Clive back,” I warned.
“Jesus, no,” he said.
“Well, then turn some music on. You gotta give something,” I pleaded. “Or he’ll be climbing the walls again.”
“Music I can do. Any requests?” he asked, turning to face me from inside the doorway. I backed up to mine and put my hand on my door.
“Anything but big band, okay?” I answered softly. Heart moved down low in my tummy, flitting about.
A look of disappointment crossed his face. “You don’t like big band?” he inquired, his voice low.
I pressed my fingers to my collarbone, my skin feeling warm under his gaze. I watched as his eyes followed my hand, further heating me with the intensity of his gaze.
“I love it,” I whispered, and his eyes jerked back to mine in surprise. I smiled a shy smile and disappeared into my apartment, leaving him smiling back at me.
Mimi was still yelling at the delivery guy as I came inside to school Clive, a simpering look on both our faces. Five minutes later, with a mouthful of noodles, I heard Purina yelling something in indecipherable Russian on the landing and his door slammed. I tried to hide my grin, instead playing it off as a particularly spicy bite. No wallbanging tonight, I guess…Clive would be so depressed.
At around eleven thirty that night, as I was settling into bed, Simon played me some music through our shared wall. Wasn’t big band, but it was pretty good. Prince. “p-ssy Control.”
I smiled in spite of myself, delighted at his wicked sense of humor.
Friends? Definitely. Maybe. Possibly.
“p-ssy Control.” I thought of it again and snorted.
Well played, Simon. Well played.