pieces.
something that's been on my mind for a while.
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I'd walk away but I'm in too deep..
I hate New York. It’s overly crowded, filthy and expensive. I’ve traveled all over the world and never have I been to any place like this. I’ll never understand the allure of this city. People flock here in bunches, take tons of photos and leave in awe. They're clearly misguided individuals. Now, Paris is a city of magic, culture and class – things New York would never be. Or maybe it did have those characteristics but I hated it far too much to see them.
I take the steps two at a time, happy to be out of the disgusting subway. The air down there was muggy despite the cool autumn breeze. The trash was endless and the rodents could double as domestic pets as far as size was concerned. It should be illegal to have people commute in those conditions. As I stand on the corner of 34th and 7th I begin to wonder why I hadn’t taken a cab. I torture myself time and time again with this damn subway system because I’m so used to taking the Metro is Paris but it isn’t the same. The Metro is actually clean and has people that say excuse me when they bump you. I shake my head in disgust and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air. God only knows what I was breathing in down there.
The skies are gray and a light mist falls from above. The weather matches my mood perfectly. The moisture in the air is causing a noticeable stiffness in my knee and I curse myself for not taking the proper supplements before leaving my hotel. I’ll for sure have to take a cab back to avoid putting any extra strain on my knee with the multiple flights of stairs the MTA has.
Pulling my neckwarmer up over my mouth, I observe my surroundings before taking off towards Park Ave. The streets are relatively clear and I’m beyond grateful. I’m not in the mood for people today. Actually, all I want to do is lay in my Soho hotel and read. My body is sore and my head is aching and has been since early this morning. But I had been expecting the call and I couldn’t say no. I never could.
What I’m walking towards makes me shake my head. Poison, I think to myself but despite my better judgment I keep walking. Shame covers my skin as my nerves quiver with eagerness. My brother’s words play like a song in my head but I ignore it all and speed up.
As I pull my gray hood over my head I curse my inability to listen to music in public. My earbuds are nestled safely in my pocket and they will stay there unless I want to end up on YouTube dancing in the streets again. I seriously can’t listen to music without dancing. The last time I had my earbuds in, I ended up garnering a crowd in the middle of Columbus Circle. Music controls me and while I don’t mind that, I’m not in the mood to dance right now. I’m on a mission.
I’m yanked from my thoughts by the blaring horn of a taxi. I pause and look down, finding that the cab is mere inches away from my frame and had almost hit me. Looking up, I see that I have the light. A wave of fury rushes through me at the possibility of someone fucking up my most prized possession – my body. My fists rain down on the hood of the taxi and a slew of curses leaves my lips as I point a warning finger at the driver. I don’t know whether I’m yelling in English or French but I don’t care – I’m pissed.
“You muthafucka!” The cab driver stammers. His skin is as dark as tar and his teeth are a florescent yellow that makes me wince. He’s going on and on and I sigh in exasperation. I’m seconds away from knocking that damn kufi off his head. “I call police!” He holds up a cell phone and I silently dare him to use it with narrowed eyes. Our encounter garners a few stares but for the most part people keep walking, minding their business. This is NYC after all – they’ve seen it all.
“Va te faire foutre!” (Fuck off) I mutter, before rounding the car and continuing my stroll.
I hate New York.
When I finally make it to my destination I feel a mixture of annoyance, relief and eagerness. I’m trekking through the colorful lobby and heading straight to the restaurant, ignoring the flurry of butterflies present in my gut. When the hostess comes into my line of sight I tug my hood off and greet her with a smile.
“Hi there!” She’s happy, I think to myself, wishing I felt half of what she was putting forth. Her blue eyes are glowing and her bright smile is nearly blinding me.
“Hey,” I grin, trying to add some joy to my tone. “I here to meet a friend… last name Espinosa.” Her eyes drift down to her podium that I’m guessing holds a table chart. I rub anxiously at my neck. If this was a less upscale restaurant I could just walk in and take a fucking seat but no…
“Right this way sir,” I cringe at the formal nature of it all as I nod and follow her through the bright restaurant. The color scheme matches that of the lobby and I find myself wincing at the fuchsia curtains. My black jeans, Jordans and gray hoodie sticks out like a sore thumb but I don’t care. My attire is the very last thing on my mind.
I spot her before I even make it to the table. My heart leaps forward in my chest and my tongue goes completely dry. I purposefully slow my breathing, fighting for control over my own body. I can’t be affected – I shouldn’t be affected but I am. I always am, regardless of how many times I see her. My heart will always race and my palms will always sweat – it’s bad. Here I am, a grown ass man getting nervous over a woman. It’s shameful and my brother teases me about it often.
I quickly school my features and take a deep breath. I’m anxious but she will never know. I stand back, watching as the hostess looms over the table, announcing my presence. Her eyes drift over to me and she gives me a devious smirk as I take my seat in the plush chair.
“Sup,” I greet her casually despite the tornado of emotions whirling in my insides. Her brown eyes trail over my face as they always do. She shifts in her seat, prompting her leather jacket to squeak. I ponder why she has on her coat but I don’t bother to ask the question aloud.
“You’re late.” Her voice is soft and raspy at the same time. That’s one of my favorite things about her – her voice. It’s sultry and reminds me a lot of a smoky blues singer. She purrs instead of talks and I love it.
“I’m here now.” I shrug, offering no apology. She had me leave the comfort of my bed to meet her at this stuffy, pretentious ass restaurant. The least she can do is not complain.
“I ordered you wine.” She gestures to the untouched glass that I’m just now noticing sits in front of me. I cast the glass a side eyed glance before looking up at her.
“You know I don’t drink.”
She shrugs and reaches for her glass, taking a sip. “We all do things with the right amount of persuasion.”
“You would know, huh?” She nods, not taking offense to my words. She never does.
I lean back, allowing my eyes to take her in. Her thick hair falls over her shoulders and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through the silky tresses. Her brows are heavy and they hover over a pair of smoldering brown eyes that fill my thoughts during the day and haunt my dreams at night. Her slim nose leads down to a set of the most pillowy, plush lips I’ve ever seen. I want to press my lips to hers and feel the vibration of her moans against mine. As I stare, I realize her mouth is moving and she’s actually speaking to me.
“Hmm?”
“How are you Laurent?” She repeats with a smirk.
“I’m good. I’m always good, Tatiana.”
“Mmm, whole name? What ever happened to good ole Ana or my fav, Tati?”
“It’s been a while.” I shrug.
She clicks her tongue in her mouth and follows with a nod. I watch her through narrowed eyes as she sips from her wine. Again Larry’s words are in my head but I sweep them away. “Too long.”
“What do you want Tatiana?” I sigh and rest my cheek in my palm. I’m bored with her games and agitated at the fact that my insides are still flipping. I’m disappointed at how good it feels to be in her presence. It’s the sweetest sin.
She shrugs and I spot the flicker of sadness in her eyes. Her inner battle nearly plays out before me until she blinks and then smirks. Le diable is back. “I missed you Laurent.”
“Really?”
“Do you doubt that?” She quizzes, instead of answering my question straightaway. Her fingertip twirls around the rim of her glass and I follow the motion with my eyes, noting that something is missing. Then again, it isn’t necessary or welcome for this meeting.
“I do.”
“And why is that?”
“I haven’t seen you since Italy.” I try not to let the sadness creep out in my voice. I try to force my face to remain neutral. It’s hard and becoming harder by the second. Why can’t I be like her? Why can’t I not feel?
“Italy,” She purrs. “That was a fun shoot.” Of course she would only acknowledge the shoot.
Tatiana has the ability to make me feel so small and insignificant. She’s the only person walking amongst the earth who can sweep my confidence off the table and then smile in my face. It’s sick yet, here I am watching my assurance hit the floor piece by piece.
“I missed you.” She repeats. “You didn’t miss me?’
“How you find the time to miss me? You always so occupied.”
“Why are you being difficult?”
“Why did you call me here, Tati?”
“Because,” Her eyes lower from mine as she brings her fingers up to her supple lips. I’m instantly jealous of her fingers.
“Because what?” By now my relaxed posture is gone and I wait, leaning forward as my elbows rest on my thighs. My twists fall forward, creating a curtain around my face. “Everything still the same, no?”
“It is,” She sighs. “But I don’t want it to be.” She adds quickly and I nearly roll my eyes. “I needed to see you. I tried but…” Her voice is now a light whisper. Her bravado is cracking. She is now morphing into the woman that I know quite well. The famed runway model is leaving the building and the intelligent girl with a love for poetry and Martin reruns is entering.
“You tried what?” I sigh, pushing my hair back. Stress is playing hopscotch on my muscles. I can feel myself tensing up and becoming rigid.
“I tried to be without you but I can’t. I need you, I crave you.”
“You crave candy Tatiana. I’m a man, not a treat.” I have feelings, I add silently.
“I know Lau, I know this,” She motions between the two of us. “I know it’s not ideal but we work. I was made for you… and you for me.” I don’t dispute her words. Half of me believes them as true. We shared many good times. I’m able to be me around her and I receive no judgment for it. I’m able to let go. She’s the light at the end of the tunnel, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She makes shit better. But she isn’t mine.
I reach out, pulling her hands down from their curled position in front of her chin. The spark that shoots through my body is a reminder of the affect she has on me and as I look into her sad eyes, I know she feels the same thing. Her skin is soft under the tips of my fingers. I touch her hand delicately, feeling like I’m touching a precious jewel that doesn’t belong to me. And in a way I am but that doesn’t stop my exploration. Without thinking, I pull her hand up towards my lips and place a feather light kiss on her pinky – the smallest part of her. She sighs inwardly and lowers her eyes from mine as I repeat the gesture. Her eyes lift and quickly scanned the restaurant. I’m again reminded of her circumstances and let go of her hand, watching it hit the table with a light thud. She quickly reels it back and places it in her lap with a sigh.
“Getting paranoid?” I quiz, unable to take the edge off my voice – unable to spare her feelings.
She looks at me with surprise and then sighs. “Can we, can we go to my suite. We can order room service and spend some time…”
“Nah,” I decline and straighten my back, already mentally preparing myself for the trip home. This time I’ll catch a cab.
“Why Lau?” Her leg rubs against mine under the table and I freeze. “I just want to be alone with you.” That may be true but there are other reasons she wants to transport our meeting up to her suite.
“I don’t sleep with married women.”
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she's got a man, another situation...
By: Brittney
