Why were they parked in front of her apartment building?
The old, faded brick structure, crumbling in some areas, was well worn, but deeply loved by all its residents. The windows, square and unusually tall, sparkled in the gold and gray of the day, each sporting a flower box her landlord’s father had insisted on installing and which remained even now, some forty years later.
The garden just beyond the black iron gates and to the left of the double front doors had been lovingly planted and tended on rotation by her and the other residents. She loved the opaque blue gazing ball in the center, especially at this time of year with all the mums in bloom. Spiral bonsais made a small maze that led to a bench, where she often sat with one neighbor or another when she was between jobs.
But that wasn’t the best part of this apartment building by a long shot. What had intrigued Poppy from the get-go was the spire peak on the roof. Carved from stone, its swirling pattern and ornate ball topper with some sort of fancy symbols had enchanted her. The building also sported four matching square stones in the lobby with the same design.
The elaborate pieces, clearly made to match the spire, sat on thick pillars, bracketing the front doors and the elevators. She jokingly rubbed them for good luck every time she left for an audition
The spire undoubtedly looked ridiculously out of place and too grand on such a quaint building, but when she saw it after a long day, it let her know she was home. She’d always meant to ask about how the spire had come to be, but in her quest to become Broadway’s hottest ticket, she’d never taken the time.
Rick’s deep dark eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Ladies, we’ve arrived. I’ll trust you can find something to do. It’s going to take me at least an hour here at this site, so maybe grab some breakfast at the diner. They have the best omelets in the city,” he coaxed.
“Well, if Rick says they’re the best, who are we to fucking question it? Rick knows everything, don’t’cha, Rick?” Nina asked sarcastically, punching his upper arm.
If Rick had been nicer to her in the beginning, she’d owe him saint status for not throttling Nina by now. She’d taken outright jabs at him without hesitation since they’d left his house, and the foreseeable future didn’t look jab free for him either.
Poppy reached forward and gripped Rick’s shoulder, preventing him from climbing from the van. For some odd reason, one she didn’t understand at all, but one she knew she needed to trust, she didn’t tell him this was where she lived.
Not yet anyway. Though it would be aces to grab some clothes and personal items and find out how to reach her landlord in order to hopefully arrange to make payments on the rent she owed.
“Why are we here again? I mean, I’m just asking in an effort to better understand what you do.”
Turning to gaze at her, his eyes less icy than earlier this morning, he said, “I’m doing my job,” before sliding out of the van.
On impulse, she climbed over the driver’s seat, knocking Nina in the head with her platform boot.
“Watch it!” she yelped, swatting at the heel of her boot.
“Wait!” Marty tugged the length of her hair. “You want us to come with?”
Poppy offered a quick apology to Nina before she shook her head. “I think I need to handle this alone. But stay close?”
“Always,” Wanda murmured, tucking her purse under her breasts and looking out at the children playing on the swing set in the park.
Hopping out with a clunk of her boots to the concrete, she ran after Rick to catch up to him, hoping none of her neighbors saw her.
Making a grab for his arm, she tried not to think about the ripple of his muscle beneath her fingertips or the oddly pleasant thrill she got when she touched him.
She managed to thwart him beneath one of the old oak trees bracketing the entryway just outside the black iron gates to her home, noting the gold and burnt orange colors of the leaves made his dark presence even sexier.
God. She had to stop thinking of him as sexy. She was his advisor, not his Sugar Mama.
Taking a deep breath, she fought the appeal of his cologne and the olive tones to his perfect skin. “Tell me about your job. I mean, in an effort to help me show you what a rad familiar I can be. Let’s get to know each other. Okay?”
Standing tall, his reluctance clear, he loomed over her, even with her in platform boots. “I told you about my job.”
She shook her head as the wind picked up, pushing her hair into her face. “No. You told me your job’s title. What does one do when they develop? Develop can mean lots of things. Software, buildings, concepts.”