Danielle stared at her. “Who’s that?”
“I—I—It’s an old friend of mine. He just moved here and he mentioned he might be around but I forgot.” She started running to her room to change. He hadn’t been specific about what to wear.
“An old friend who drives a fancy ass car like that? What’s his name?”
“His parents are very rich!” she yelled back, running to her closet and pouring quickly through her hangers. Finally she saw something that might work. A black and white striped Nordstrom miniskirt. To go with it, a white sleeveless top. It was a pretty hot combination and one she would normally fret over. She’d bought both pieces a couple of years ago when she’d been determined to try and come out of her shell.
That had never quite happened…
She stripped off her sweats and undies, found a pair of thong panties, decided to go nude underneath and tossed the thong aside. Quickly, she put on her ensemble and a pair of short heels, then went to the bathroom to freshen up.
Danielle was watching her when she came out of the bathroom. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
“Nothing, I told you. I have this friend—“
“Who is it really? You’re a terrible liar.”
“Gotta go! I’ll be back soon!” she called, running out the door before Danielle could try and grill her further.
Danielle came to the door as Nicole ran down the stairwell. “Be careful!”
“I will!”
And then she reached the first floor landing and burst out into the cool night air. It was chilly and breezy and she was wearing next to nothing.
The car was a black Bentley, which she remembered from reading the Rolling Stone article. The car was running softly. She opened the passenger door and Red glanced at her. “Get in back,” he said.
She was about to say yes sir, and apologize for thinking she could ride up front with him. But then she realized he had come for her.
“No, I won’t get in back,” she said. “If you can’t stand to have me in the front seat next to you, then forget it.”
He glanced at her sideways. “Fine,” he sighed. “Hurry up.”
She smiled at her small but important victory, got inside and closed her door. He immediately sped off, driving very fast but in total control. Speed normally scared her, but not with Red at the wheel. He was as home here as anywhere, and his movements were all precise and deliberate, nothing was left to chance.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he turned one corner and then immediately into the next.
“You know where.”
She frowned. “Your little tacky apartment where you bring all your whores.”
That made him smile. “Whores?”
“It’s true. And I’m not one of them.”
He chuckled. “I never said you were.”
“And I’m not going there.”
Now it was his turn to frown. “You agreed to my rules.”
“You said I was free to stop at any time.”
“I can turn the car around on your word,” he said, daring her.
“Fine.” She eyed him.
He slowed the Bentley. He was wearing one of his dark suits with a bright pink tie. He looked dashing, like he’d stepped right out of one of those photo shoots she’d paged through recently. “What is it you want from me?” he asked her.
“I want a real date.”
“What’s a real date?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she told him.
His jaw stiffened. “I’m not playing anything.”
She folded her arms. “I’ll go back to your special room,” she said. “Gladly.”
“That’s better,” he smiled.
“After we have a proper date.”
Now he looked like he’d just drank liquid soap. “Fine. Have it your way, Nicole.”
He made an abrupt U-turn and took off in the opposite direction, even faster than before.
Within ten minutes, they arrived at a restaurant called The Davenport. A valet took his keys and called him Mr. Jameson in a familiar way. Red escorted Nicole past a small coterie of waiting patrons and smiled at the hostess. “Table for two, if you please.”
“Of course. Right away,” she said, scurrying for menus and took them right to one of the few remaining window seats.
“I’m a little underdressed,” Nicole said, after they’d taken their seats.
He shrugged. “You wanted a real date, you didn’t specify that I had to accommodate your choice of attire.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled at him. “I like this.” She started browsing the menu. It consisted of foods that she’d never had before, the kind of stuff she’d seen while watching the Food Network perhaps, but never in real life.
She was still trying to decide on something when the waiter appeared. He was thin, small, older, with a tiny mustache. “Mister Jameson, what can I get for you sir?”
Red took her menu from her and handed it to the waiter. “She will have the duck cassoulet and I will have the agnolotti with squid.”
“Wonderful choices, sir.”
“Also, a bottle of the Latour Pauillac,” Red added, handing his menu to the waiter with finality.