Chapter 6: Cal

Chapter Six

CAL

" C alix! Calix Line!" A sharp voice hails me as I step out of the town car a half block down from where we are meeting. I had told Harlow that I was down on my luck and needed her money to see me through the month. Nothing about this half million dollar car says poverty.

Ignoring the voice, I lean down to speak to Trident. "I'll call you when I'm ready to be picked up. I don't know how long this will last."

"I should really come inside with you. These co-op boards can be tough nuts, and I did all the research?—"

"I read it. You were very thorough. It reminded me why I hired you in the first place."

The compliment distracts Trident for a moment. "As it should. I'm your best asset which is why I should?—"

"Calix!"

Trident scowls. "Who is that?"

He twists around to look out the back window of the car. There's a blonde in a tight pink bodycon suit tottering down the sidewalk. I don't remember her face or her name, but she obviously knows me.

"How big of a bonus would you need to deal with this?"

Trident reaches out and grabs the door handle. "You don't have enough money." He slams the door in my face, and the town car speeds off a half second later.

I heave a sigh and turn to face the blonde.

"Calix, I thought that was you." She's slightly panting, and there's sweat forming on her forehead. In her arms is a tiny white dog who wriggles in obvious displeasure, yapping high-pitched, annoying barks.

"I think your dog wants to be on all fours."

She laughs and slaps me across my biceps. "You're so funny, Calix. And a little naughty, too. All fours. Tee-hee." She giggles.

This is why I'm still single. A life of solitude is better than waking up to someone tee-heeing in my ear. I give her a short nod. "I've an appointment." I don't even tell her that it was nice to see her again because, hell, why start off the morning with a lie?

I turn toward the wrought iron gates of Harlow's condo building, but before I can take a step forward, the girl's fingers grab at my elbow. "Wait, Calix, we haven't seen each other in an age. Why don't you take me out to breakfast and we can catch up."

"I don't remember you, ma'am, and I've got an important appointment." I dip my head and peel her fingers away from my arm. "Your dog needs attention."

She curses me when I walk away. Thank God for Harlow. Once we're married, I won't have to have these annoying encounters. I'll just hide behind her skirts.

A white-gloved doorman stares wide-eyed at me when I reach the entrance. "Mr. Line, I didn't see you on the visitor's schedule."

I'm impressed. A good doorman who knows everyone in the city and can recognize them by face is a rare find. He needs to come work for me. I hand him my card. "Danny, is it?" That's what his nametag says. "I've got a good position for you at Line, Inc. if you're interested. I'll pay you 20 percent more than you're earning here along with full benefits and a pension. The hours are decent. I don't believe in overworking anyone, and there are great opportunities for advancement."

The doorman's eyes widen. "But you don't know anything about me."

"You work as the doorman for the building, which means your security background is impeccable. You recognized me by sight, which means you have a formidable memory and recall ability. Working as a doorman also means you are juggling the demands of?—"

"Danny, why the fuck aren't you opening the door for me? I broke one of my fingernails trying to pull that wretched brass knob, and Floofy here almost got her face bashed in by—" The same screeching voice from outside comes to a halt. "What are you doing in here, Calix?"

Grimly, I turn toward the voice. "I'm moving in."

The woman's jaw drops. "What unit?"

"Mine." We both turn to see Harlow standing to the side. She's wearing a sundress in blue with tiny white flowers. Her feet are encased in white ballet flats, and her hair is tied at her neck. She looks edible. I could gobble her up in one bite.

The other woman judges Harlow with one glance. "Who is she, Danny?"

Danny flushes. Even the best of doormen would find this an awkward situation. I step in. "This is my fiancée, Harlow Sinclair." I pull Harlow under my arm and tip her face up. "Sorry I'm late, darling." I give her a quick kiss on the mouth that draws sharp inhales from both her and the other woman. Danny slides away like the smart man that he is. Really hope he gives me a call later.

"I've lived at The Grand for three years now, and I know everyone in this building, and there's never been a Sinclair."

"My grandmother owned it. I inherited it."

"Inherited…" The blonde trails off. The cogs in her brain are grinding, and I sense we are not going to like the result they churn out. "That means new ownership, and everyone at the co-op has to vote on the title transfer. It's a condition of the homeowners' association agreement." A not very nice smile spreads across the blonde's face. "You can count me out. I wouldn't want my property value to go down because of the wrong people living here."

I tuck Harlow closer to my side. "Since we're the right kind of people, you don't have to worry about that."

The blonde makes a face and turns back to Danny, shaking one long tip at him. "Isn't the point of a doorman to protect us from trash? If you aren't going to do your job right, then find a new one."

She stomps off and around the corner, where she takes the elevator to her floor.

"Mindy will be a hard nut to crack." Danny shakes his head. He's acting like we're doomed. I can flip one mind on this situation.

"Don't worry about it." I say it more for Harlow's benefit, who looks a little shaken. "Thanks for all your help, Danny. Don't forget about my job offer."

"What job offer?" Harlow asks me in the elevator.

"Danny seems like a guy my company would like."

"You have a company?"

That's right. I'm pretending I'm broke. "It's on the rocks, but someone like Danny could help put it back on its feet." Is that a lie? I do have some companies that need more attention. Plus, there's the new ad agency we're acquiring, and that place is a shit show, so it's not really a complete fabrication. "Your money is helping me keep people employed."

Maybe that was laying it on too thick, but then she gives me a look like I hung a gold star on the moon. "Wow, that's pretty cool."

I tell myself it's okay because I do take care of my employees. Too well, in some cases. Like I couldn't fire Trident even if I wanted to. He'd chain himself to the office chair. The elevator stops before I can say anything more embarrassing. Harlow leads me down a lushly carpeted hallway lit with lamps that could have been original to the turn of the century building. It really is a gorgeous place.

She stops at No.19 and sticks an old key into the lock. Inside is a profusion of color and fabrics. The walls are papered with a jungle pattern, and the carpet is floral. The furniture is upholstered in striped velvet, which I didn't even know was a thing.

Harlow laughs. "Minimalism wasn't in Gram's vocabulary."

"It's something." I like it though. It's different.

"It's a lot, but it's home." She strokes her hand across the green and white striped sofa. "When she was alive, I'd sit here and do my math homework while she did needlepoint." Harlow points to a frame to the right of the entry. A blue and yellow striped tiger jumps from a red tree branch. Below him, a purple monkey tosses what I think is a coconut in the air. It's orange, though, so maybe it's some kind of fruit. "She colored outside the lines."

Her head dips down to hide her sudden sadness. I cup her head and draw her against my chest. She comes willingly, as if she was my real fiancée. As I hold her, what I'd known when I first saw her hardens into immutable fact. Harlow Sinclair belongs to me.