Having pillaged the plates, we moved on to cheesecake drizzled with hazelnut chocolate sauce. I was too full to eat very much of it, but the rich, decadent taste of the hazelnut sauce would stay with me forever. It would bring this moment back to me for the rest of my life.
“Will you leave me the poem?” I asked. “Even though I freaked out, I’d like to have it.”
He nodded toward the side table. “It’s over there. Along with something else I brought for you. A gift. Are gifts allowed?”
“Yes, gifts are allowed.”
“I bet you get a lot of them.”
“I used to, when I had other clients.”
He downed the last bite of cheesecake as I stood up to see what he’d brought me. One thing I’d learned about presents…when clients brought them, they wanted you to open it in front of them and enthuse about how cool it was. I’d feigned ecstatic bliss over many a custom negligee or exotic sex toy, although I doubted that was W’s style. Maybe a book of poetry? Or a velvet noose, so I could choke myself whenever he wasn’t around to do it for me?
But there was no book or velvet noose, just a small ivory box beside the lines of poetry he’d written. I opened the lid to find a silver key on a bed of black satin. I blinked at it as W made his way to my side.
“It belongs to an apartment on Bleecker Street. An apartment for you.”
It belongs to an apartment? I tried to figure out what he meant. It belongs to an apartment on Bleecker Street. It was a key to an apartment.
An apartment for you.
That part finally registered in my brain. My head shot up. “You’re giving me an apartment?”
He shrugged. “I have more of them than I need.”
He was a real estate mogul. Of course. That explained all his money. I looked down in shock at the key in my hand. “It’s still yours though, right? I mean, you’re not literally giving me an apartment?”
“Yes, I’m giving it to you. It’s nothing fancy.”
“It’s an apartment. It’s crazy to just give someone an apartment!”
“It’s not yours yet.” W tipped up my face and looked into my eyes. “I have this ace lawyer, starshine. He’s worked out this deal, although you don’t get to see the paperwork. The apartment is yours, legally and officially, one year from now, if you follow two simple rules. First, you don’t rent it out. Second, you don’t let any drug-addicted assholes through the front door. Ever. I’ll take it back if you let Simon so much as step over the threshold.” His fingers tightened on my chin. “Remember that. It’s not a joke.”
I felt a little scolded, but I’d just been given the key to an apartment on Bleecker Street, so my irritation didn’t last long. “I d-don’t know what to say,” I stammered. “I expected, like, a necklace or something.”
“A necklace?” He snorted and let go of me. “After all the shit I’ve done to you, you thought I’d give you a necklace? No.”
He moved away from me, back toward the table. “Don’t get all bent out of shape about this. The thing is…” He poured a little more wine but didn’t drink it. “I kept thinking about you locking yourself in a room, and him banging on the door. You don’t have to live that way. You shouldn’t live that way.”
I blinked hard, swallowing past emotion. “I know.”
“So maybe this will help. I hope it does. But don’t ever let him in there, or I swear to God I’ll make you sorry. Don’t tell him where it is. Don’t even let him know you have it. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
The key in my palm was the key to my new life. I knew it and he knew it. I just had to be brave enough to make it happen, brave enough to cut those ties to Simon. I had a place to go, now, tonight if I wanted to. I had no more excuses or reasons to delay.
W was back at the table, holding my dress. I watched him for a while, feeling numb. I had an apartment. He’d given me an apartment.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said. “Did I say thank you yet?”
He grimaced down at the tear in the fabric. “No.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” There was a blank pause after “I really appreciate this” that I would have filled with his name, if I knew it. But I didn’t know it. He made a motion with his arm, brought his hand to his mouth and bit something off. I realized it was thread.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Fixing your dress. It’ll only take a minute. Are you tired? You should lie down.”
I needed to lie down. Life was too weird at the moment. First W gave me an apartment—conditionally—and now he was using a sewing kit to mend my dress. I needed to sleep a while and see if things made more sense when I woke up. I vaguely remembered W touching my hair and kissing my forehead just before I dropped off, but maybe it was a dream.