sweetie?” Pres said quietly while rubbing his palm over his heart. Why was it that whenever he spoke to Victoria, his chest seemed to start hurting? Probably because you know she doesn’t want you, just like your fiancée didn’t.
Pres shut those thoughts down immediately. He just needed to reconnect with Vikki again. She’d been sweet as pie when he first met her eight months ago in line at his bank. She immediately struck up a conversation about Josey as he led Pres through the line. Pres liked her forwardness and couldn’t resist asking her to dinner after he was sure not to be mistaking her flirting as simple kindness. But the way she brushed her hand over his as he held Josey’s leash was not easy to mistake. Pres enjoyed her company so much, and he felt alive again. Only problem was, over time, the visits to Pres’s home, and their dates, became less and less regular, but the phone calls for money were endless.
“Nothing’s going on, Pres. I’ve just been busy is all,” she said in a bored voice.
“Well you sound like you could use some fun. Hey, I just had a great idea. How about you and me get together tonight? I’ll make us a gourmet meal…the one that gets you real hot, baby. Remember my bourbon shrimp flambé? Then we’ll pack a weekend bag and go out on my yacht. Just us and the salty ocean breeze, good food, and good loving.” Pres moaned, already getting excited, because who could say no to that suggestion?
“I’ve already made plans to go meet some friends at this new bar on the beach tonight.”
“Okaaay. Do you mind if I come too? I mean, are you able to bring your significant others?” Pres tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but it’d been a while since he and Vikki had gone somewhere together.
She let out a long, exasperated sigh before finally responding. “Fine, Pres, you can come. We’re meeting there at ten.”
“Vikki, can you come and pick me up? If it’s on the beach, then you have to come past here, right? It’s just I gave Scott the weekend off.”
“Jeez, Pres. All right, fine, I’ll pick you up. Just don’t try to make me late.” Click.
What the fuck? Vikki was really going out of her way lately to make him feel like shit. He didn’t remember doing anything to make her act like such a bitch toward him. However, Pres was finally getting to go out on the town for a little while, so he didn’t ponder the negative thoughts for too long.
He had only forty-five minutes to shower and get dressed. All his clothes were labeled and color coordinated. His stylist put together complete outfits for him. All he had to do was feel the raised Braille label on the garment bag, unzip it, and voila! He was dressed like a Calvin Klein model.
Pres knew he was wearing dark denim jeans and an untucked cream-and-blue striped collared shirt. He pushed up the sleeves of the light-colored Kenneth Cole blazer, just like he’d been taught when he was going for sexy casual. He put a couple dabs of his most expensive cologne on his neck and waited for his date. He was lightly sipping his fourth glass of Merlot and feeling a slight buzz when he heard a persistent tapping at the door, not with a hand but with an object, probably her key fob or cell phone.
“Coming,” he called out and hurried to answer her impatient knock. Damn. Let the whole building hear your knocking. He opened the door with a wide smile on his face. “Hi, babe.”
He heard her huff and step past him into the apartment.
“Well, can I have a hug, Victoria? Jesus, I haven’t had you over in weeks.”
He stood there in his entryway with his arms outstretched, feeling slightly foolish. After a few too-long seconds, she was in his arms. He hugged her tight, basking in the embrace. He turned his lips toward hers and felt her draw back before he was able to make contact.
“I can’t have a kiss?” he asked, sure that his forehead was creased with a ton of frowns.
“I don’t want to smear my lipstick,
Pres shut those thoughts down immediately. He just needed to reconnect with Vikki again. She’d been sweet as pie when he first met her eight months ago in line at his bank. She immediately struck up a conversation about Josey as he led Pres through the line. Pres liked her forwardness and couldn’t resist asking her to dinner after he was sure not to be mistaking her flirting as simple kindness. But the way she brushed her hand over his as he held Josey’s leash was not easy to mistake. Pres enjoyed her company so much, and he felt alive again. Only problem was, over time, the visits to Pres’s home, and their dates, became less and less regular, but the phone calls for money were endless.
“Nothing’s going on, Pres. I’ve just been busy is all,” she said in a bored voice.
“Well you sound like you could use some fun. Hey, I just had a great idea. How about you and me get together tonight? I’ll make us a gourmet meal…the one that gets you real hot, baby. Remember my bourbon shrimp flambé? Then we’ll pack a weekend bag and go out on my yacht. Just us and the salty ocean breeze, good food, and good loving.” Pres moaned, already getting excited, because who could say no to that suggestion?
“I’ve already made plans to go meet some friends at this new bar on the beach tonight.”
“Okaaay. Do you mind if I come too? I mean, are you able to bring your significant others?” Pres tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but it’d been a while since he and Vikki had gone somewhere together.
She let out a long, exasperated sigh before finally responding. “Fine, Pres, you can come. We’re meeting there at ten.”
“Vikki, can you come and pick me up? If it’s on the beach, then you have to come past here, right? It’s just I gave Scott the weekend off.”
“Jeez, Pres. All right, fine, I’ll pick you up. Just don’t try to make me late.” Click.
What the fuck? Vikki was really going out of her way lately to make him feel like shit. He didn’t remember doing anything to make her act like such a bitch toward him. However, Pres was finally getting to go out on the town for a little while, so he didn’t ponder the negative thoughts for too long.
He had only forty-five minutes to shower and get dressed. All his clothes were labeled and color coordinated. His stylist put together complete outfits for him. All he had to do was feel the raised Braille label on the garment bag, unzip it, and voila! He was dressed like a Calvin Klein model.
Pres knew he was wearing dark denim jeans and an untucked cream-and-blue striped collared shirt. He pushed up the sleeves of the light-colored Kenneth Cole blazer, just like he’d been taught when he was going for sexy casual. He put a couple dabs of his most expensive cologne on his neck and waited for his date. He was lightly sipping his fourth glass of Merlot and feeling a slight buzz when he heard a persistent tapping at the door, not with a hand but with an object, probably her key fob or cell phone.
“Coming,” he called out and hurried to answer her impatient knock. Damn. Let the whole building hear your knocking. He opened the door with a wide smile on his face. “Hi, babe.”
He heard her huff and step past him into the apartment.
“Well, can I have a hug, Victoria? Jesus, I haven’t had you over in weeks.”
He stood there in his entryway with his arms outstretched, feeling slightly foolish. After a few too-long seconds, she was in his arms. He hugged her tight, basking in the embrace. He turned his lips toward hers and felt her draw back before he was able to make contact.
“I can’t have a kiss?” he asked, sure that his forehead was creased with a ton of frowns.
“I don’t want to smear my lipstick,
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