Mr. Mysterious In Black (7 page)

“Er, we’re heading out now. I’ll see you around sometime,” I said. If I stood in front of this steaming man any longer, I would self-combust.

“You mean you’ll call me,” he stated. It was not a question.

I hesitantly smiled. “Yeah. I’ll call you.”

He nodded. But he wasn’t looking at me, he was glowering deathly at Devon—whose eyes darted everywhere in the room but never at Natalio—and I half-expected to see Devon wizen.

I tugged at Devon’s rigid arm and he looked down at me and smiled, then we were out of that building.

In silence, we sallied to the parking lot. My silence was a consequence of still reeling from that über-awkward run in with Natalio. And Devon’s silence…of that I wasn’t sure. There was definitely something going on between him and Natalio. But I was much too hot and bothered to attempt any questioning. My reliance laid heavily on the air condition in Devon’s Porsche to calm me.

“So you know Natalio?” I asked a few minutes after we’d entered his car and were out of the parking lot.

“Knew. And apparently you do, too.” His tone was soft, holding no sarcasm, no chastising.

“I did say he looked familiar.”

“Familiar. From where?” I detected worry from him. Angst even. What the hell was he so anxious about?

“In a club. I’ve seen him there a few times. We spoke once and exchanged digits.”

“Oh. Okay.” Devon breathed something akin a sigh of relief and his body visibly relaxed. “Anyway, I’d completely dominated our conversation and you never finished telling me about your friends. Kelsy and Tevin? I got those names right?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “Your memory’s sharp.”

“So, um, how close are you and Tevin? Like sister and brother close or just casual friends close?”

What? That’s a weird question. “Sister and brother close.”

“That means he doesn’t hide shit from you, right?”

What’s with these odd questions? And why so focused on Tevin? “Everyone hides shit from others. It doesn’t matter how close two people may seem. Husbands and wives hide shit from each other. Even the pastor
tries
to hide shit from God.”

Devon glanced at me with a look that said he knew that I was being witted, knowing well that his questions were making me suspicious. I quickly launched a question before he could. “So how do you know Natalio?”

He shifted rather uneasily in his seat. “An old college friend.”

He said it and I knew it was a lie. But I decided to cease my investigation. I hadn’t a care if Devon and Natalio were rivals or…whatever.

Certain and without doubt I was of one thing: I wanted Natalio in a way that I have never wanted anyone before. My body sizzled at the thought of him. I wanted Natalio to want me, too. To want to be more than
friends
.

P
acing around my living room, I worried my lip in anxiety. Natalio’s name was selected in my phone book and my thumb hovered over the call button. Nervousness washed me. But I
needed
that job, so I needed to get my act together, put my lust aside and focus on what’s important. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button. His phone rang out and went to his voicemail that simply said “Leave a message.” I did no such thing. I hated voicemails.

Frowning at my Blackberry, I decided to try again. He answered on the third ring in the briefest of tones, “Speak.”

“Natalio?”

“Natalio it is. Get to it.”

Sheesh.
Was he always this grumpy? “Um, it’s Sadie…” Need I say more? He’d know exactly why I was calling, right?

“Sadie,” he said in a much softer tone. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

“No, I didn’t. When we last spoke, it was the starting of a weekend. I presumed a more appropriate time to call about this would be on a weekday day. I was assuming you hadn’t spoken to your friend about the interview yet.”

He chuckled. “I deduce you fancy making assumptions and presumptions. Using the terms
weekdays
and
weekends
are for teenagers and loafers. I work whenever there is work to be done and I sport whenever my life lends leisure time. And the people I associate with are the same. It’s not germane for me to know what day of the week it is. I rise in the mornings, thank God that I’m alive and I live. Doing what’s there to be done. So next time, don’t time a phone call, okay? Especially if it’s, as it is in this case, about
your
future.”

This man…

Yes, it has been said, I
do
like people who are a little distinct, but Natalio was…something else. He wasn’t normal. And the more he baffled me, the more I wanted him. Strange.

“I’ll do well to remember that,” I replied.

Natalio jumped straight to the point in a perspicuous, no-nonsense tone, “He wanted you to intern, but that doesn’t pay the bills now, does it? He owes me too great a favor to have my agreement on that. In the interview, it’s your job to let him know who you are, your competence in the field, your versatility, your variegated style etcetera, etcetera. He’s not a man of formality, and he gets bored easily. So, be yourself. Be candid. Hopefully you’ll nail a good position.”

Nerves racking in, I swallowed. “Who’s this designer we’re talking about?”

“Geo Lee.”

Geo Lee?!
The
world-renowned Geo Lee?
The
most famous designer in Los Angeles? “You’re taking me to see
Geo Lee
?” I shrieked.

He was silent for a moment. Damn me and my childish hormones. “Yes,” he dragged out as if talking to a child.

With the aim of not embarrassing myself further, I tried for nonchalance. “Okay, cool. Thanks.”

“You are most welcome, Sadie,” he smoothed, and I could sense his smile. “Now, let’s talk time. What are your plans for today?”

“The unemployed don’t normally have plans.”

The ensuing silence said he didn’t find me amusing. “I have to attend a meeting now. I’ll call Geo and set up a meeting for…hang on.” There was shuffling in the background and I waited with bated breath, hardly believing that he was getting me an interview with Geo Lee.

Natalio was back on the line. “Is two o’clock good for you?”

“Yes. Sure.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up forty minutes prior. See you then.”

He ended the call and I realized he hadn’t asked for my address. Knowing the oddness of a man who he was, he might already have it. But I texted it to him, nevertheless, not chancing a miss out on that opportunity. And the biggest opportunity of all: seeing Natalio again.

At 1:19pm, I was walking rather timidly towards the white BMW X6 that sat on the curb outside my apartment. I’d purposely donned an all-black outfit based upon the knowledge—or another assumption, maybe—that black was Natalio’s favorite shade. A black pencil skirt, a black silk shirt tucked in, and my black Geo Lee pumps proclaimed me ready for the interview, but also in the wish to evoke a desired reaction from a most desired man. After laboring to comb my twenty-six inches of wild curls, I’d managed only to pull it back, guising some semblance of a chignon.

Natalio hopped out of his jeep and walked, composedly, to the passenger side, holding the door open for me. He was engaged in a deep conversation on his phone; still, he didn’t seem distracted in any way. He was in control and, I’d say, rather excelled at multi-tasking.

A smile resided on my face as I walked towards him, my eyes locked on his. He flashed me a quick smile as I entered the jeep, then closed the door and rounded to the driver’s side.

“Uncle Thello, I do comprehend, and I am honored. But I’m just one man, I can’t live in two places at once. Especially a distant country like Japan…Well, there’s ample time to come about ideas of maneuvering the business from here. I can visit next month and we can explore our options…For the love of God, Uncle Thello, you’re not gonna die anytime soon. This conversation is irrelevant right now…”

That’s far. He sure as hell better not move there!

Pfft.
Hopeless was the perfect word to describe me right now. There I sat, drooling like a teenager over a man who wanted only friendship. A thought occurred: Was he pitying me? Thinking that I was some poor, lost soul that needed rescuing? I
was
lost. Albeit the truth, I didn’t need his pity. I needed
him—
carnally
.

Natalio wrapped up his call and shifted in his seat to face at me. He smiled a relaxed, life’s-peachy smile. His teeth impeccably white, his blue eyes bright. Whoa, I’ve never seen that smile before. I was expecting him to be petulant and weird as he’d been in our previous encounters. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I echoed.

“You look…lovely.”

And I blushed. His compliment made me self-conscious. “Thanks,” I acknowledged, hoping I wasn’t the color of the blood beneath my skin.

His penetrating eyes were a brighter blue than they’d been last Friday at the bar. And I just couldn’t look away. “I like your hair like that, it exhibits the length and smoothness of your neck,” he again commented in a velvety inflection.

I was positive that the color of my cheeks was crimson. The man had a profound effect on me.

“Are friends supposed to say stuff like that to each other?” I asked, hoping he would stop gazing at me in that licentious manner. It was what I wanted, but still, I couldn’t bear it. I liked him.
Desired
him. But I had to keep my wits about me for the impending interview. At that moment, I was warm, too warm, and I was fighting the burning urge to lunge myself at him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s inappropriate,” I said, trying and succeeding at disapproval.

“I compliment my friends all the time and they don’t think it’s inappropriate. It is, in fact, polite. And, for a female, requisite.”

“So, you retain a lot of female friends?” A tinge of jealousy swirled within me.

His lips twisted as if suppressing a smile. He turned in his seat, placed the gear in drive and pulled away from the curb. “No. Not really.”

I think he noticed that I rolled my eyes, because the corners of his lips twitched. Furtively, I admired his side profile. His hair was tousled as usual and I wondered briefly what he’d look like post-coital. He was superlatively beautiful and the act of wearing black enhanced his breathtaking features.

Humor and curiosity edged his voice when he asked, “Is it a coincidence that we are both dressed entirely in black?”

Shit, I’ve been found out. “Hardly,” I mumbled. “Do you always wear black?”

“For the past seven years. Yes.” His expression grew serious as he said this.
Whoa.
I was tip-toeing around landmines, wasn’t I?

“Why?” I prodded, ignoring his sudden change of mood.

He shot me a quick glance. “Because I’m mourning.”

“Mourning?”—For seven years? — “Who? What?”

Natalio emitted a rueful sigh. “Something immensely precious to me that I’ve lost.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Some friend I was, huh?

When he spoke again, his voice was laced with hope. “Whenever it is redeemed, I’ll switch to wearing white. Till death.”

“So, what you’ve lost, it’s recoverable?”

“I have my hopes.”

“Oh,” I nodded on a frown. Wondering who or what this beautiful man could be mourning for seven long years. “I do hope it gets recovered. It’s unnatural, I think, for anyone to be mourning that long.”

“What I’ve lost is worth being mourned a lifetime,” his voice fell lower than a whisper and I struggled to hear him. “I was young and senseless. My palms were greased, and it slipped from me.”

When I glanced over at him, he looked shrunken. He’d slid down into his seat and was leaning on the door, steering the jeep loosely with one hand. “It’s
so
close, you know. But still so, so far away.”

Not knowing how to respond, I could only stare at him. He was so lost in thought, I wondered if he remembered I was still there. It was as if he were talking more to himself than to me. And I felt incompetent and useless, because I didn’t know what to say to him in aid. Was this how I’d be if my mom should die? I shuddered at the thought.

Natalio pulled onto the curb of Geo Lee’s Fashion House HQ. Angst flurried in again.

With a mild harrumph, he was back to his height, composed and impassive.

This man…

“Geo’s expecting you. Just give the receptionist your name and she’ll inform you where to go from there.” He was all business again.

“You’re not coming in?”

“No. I have some errands to run. I’ll be back before you’re finished.”

I nodded and clambered from the jeep.

“Sadie,” he called and I spun around to face him.

His mouth opened, then closed. The process repeated before he finally said, “Break a leg.”

It was obvious that wasn’t what wanted to say, but I smiled and replied, “Thank you, Natalio.”

He closed his eyes and sighed as I said his name. What should I make of this man? Closing the door, I headed towards the building, shaking my head in thought. Once again I was left mystified by Mr. Mysterious in Black.

I’d walked into heaven. The atmosphere gripped me by the lapels and tugged me in, telling me that this was where I belong. The walls, the surfaces, the ceilings were all-white. The art on the walls and the sparse furniture were, contrastingly, bright colors. A neon green, serpentine sofa sat dominantly in the middle of the room. Colors. A mixture of really bright colors everywhere. Oh, I was in my zone.