Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (17 page)

Three hours later, two pies cooled on the counter. I filled tortillas with grilled peppers, habañero chilis, black beans, and grated cheddar cheese. Then I spooned enchilada hot sauce over them and slid the pan in the oven.

There was a knock at the door. I didn't hear the intercom go off. Could be a neighbor or a wandering photographer.

I inched my way to the door and peeked out the peephole. The man himself held my empty basket. How did Ben get into the building? Probably charmed a female into letting him in. Or he could transform into mist and appear anywhere. I cracked the door open, and he snuck in.

"Are you lost little boy?" I asked.

"Travis needs more, and I didn't get any." Ben handed me the basket.

"I'll put you on my list."

"Have you had dinner?" He leaned in to kiss my cheek

"I'm making enchiladas."

"Enough for two?"

"Yes, would you like some wine?"

Ben dragged up a chair, sat at the table, and watched me. Good thing I didn't handle any sharp objects. His stare unnerved me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, I'm enjoying the view."

I pulled the baking dish out of the oven and put it on the table.

"It smells delicious." He filled the wineglasses.

"Thank you."

He filled me in on his activities, meetings with his financial people, drawing up the outline of the museum's needs, then an architect for a preliminary discussion of sites around Chicago, then his attorney's office to anticipate his father's objections. He did have a life besides being an internationally famous artist, and it was busy. We finished eating and cleared the plates when there was another knock on the door.

Knock, knock. Who's there? Alexia. Alexia who? Alexia who's becoming too popular for her own good.

"Miss Hale, its Roger Isler. May I take a moment of your time?"

Ben arched an eyebrow at me. Jealous? I could only hope. I mouthed 'my landlord' to him.

He lurched over, wrenched the door open, and hauled Mr. Isler in by his coat lapel. Ben slammed the door and drilled his attention to the little man.

"I'm Ben Cobb. What the hell have you done to secure this building and keep strangers from gathering outside to harass Alexia? You have some nerve showing up here unannounced."

"I've left several messages," Mr. Isler stammered.

"And decided to interrupt her dinner…"

"I'm sorry, but there have been complaints," Mr. Isler said.

"About your disregard for her privacy and safety."

"I never called the press."

"Or the police. Alexia will be leaving this building at the end of the week. This breach breaks all leases and contracts. Any further contact will be through her attorneys. Good night." Ben threw open the door.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience and commotion I've caused. Please accept my apologies and relay them to the other tenants. I promise to be gone soon." I shook Mr. Isler's hand.

"I spoke to your uncle yesterday and asked him to contact you," Mr. Isler said to me.

"It may have been a reporter trying to get information out of you," Ben said.

"He showed me his driver's license, name listed as Richard Hale."

"I don't have any uncles, and this is getting creepy," I said.

"They stop at nothing to get a story before someone else." Ben put his arm around me.

"I'm sorry to lose you as a tenant, but I have to think of everyone. Good luck to you." Mr. Isler edged around Ben and left.

"Now, you're stuck with me," I said.

"I'm grateful." Ben moved toward the window and peered out through the curtain. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"They're back?" I asked.

"Just like the poltergeist that spawned them." A flash lit up the room.

He reached in his pocket, took out his phone, and dialed.

"We're under surveillance. Don't come back tonight. Call a few people and plant the movie story. I want them gone by the morning." He hung up.

"What movie story?" I asked.

"An anonymous source scoped an actor and a director here scouting locations for an upcoming movie. Send the photographers scurrying like rats. We need to be old news. So where do I sleep tonight?"

I had a lumpy double bed, raging hormones, and one condom, expiration date unknown.

"It's not much, but it's all mine," I said as I led him to my bedroom.

Hours later, I could hear the television. He must have been channel surfing because I heard snippets of sound, then silence.

My stomach rumbled, and I had to pee. Just like Christmas morning. I would lie in bed petrified to move, afraid I would disturb Santa and find nothing under the tree. What would happen if I startled Ben?

I got up quietly and eased the door open. No lights on in the apartment as I snuck out and headed for the kitchen. Stomach before bladder.

I flipped on the kitchen light, and he shielded his eyes from the glare. I silenced a scream with my hand over my mouth. After a few stunned seconds, I exhaled.

"I'm sorry. I thought you would be asleep by now," I said.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not sleepy, just hungry."

"At least you're not Dopey or Sneezy." He smiled.

"You can name the seven dwarfs?" I smiled back.

"Of course, those three, leather, floozy, punchy, and bubbles. My mother not only wrote children's books, she read them to me too."

"She must have been wonderful. I'm surprised she didn't have a big brood of children."

"Couldn't. Had to settle for little old me."

"You were her muse. She lived to inspire and entertain you. You permeated her work. She loved you very much."

"Yeah." He swallowed hard.

My bladder threatened me with eternal embarrassment if I didn't answer the call.

"Excuse me," I said.

Afterward, his eyes were red and his face drawn. I sat down next to him on the couch. Misery loved company and apple pie.

He kissed me, and I started to tremble with need.

"All the condoms are gone," I said.

"Alexia, there's a lot more to lovemaking than the final act."

He positioned me on top of him, and I smiled as the overture began.

I finished making the coffee as he staggered out of the bathroom with an all-night binge vibe around him. I had a few positions in mind last night too, put him through some paces of my own.

A breakfast of
huevos rancheros
, fresh strawberries, and melon were the available fare.

"I could get used to this," he said as he sat at the table.

"To which service are you referring?"

"All you provide, lady." He kissed my hand after I filled his coffee cup.

After he did the dishes, we showered in my itty-bitty tub. So happy there was a safety grab bar attached to the wall for balance. I doubt we used it for its intended purpose, but I should send a thank you note to the manufacturer. After piling my wet hair up in a towel, I sauntered out and heard the Sunday morning news shows flipped on and off.

"Did you check outside?" I asked.

"Everyone's gone. According to your former employer's website, power couple, Dave Reynolds and Maeve Finley, were seen at a local restaurant last night. Also director, Joy Krause, is traveling with a film crew along the Chicago River. Let's leave now."

"Where are we going?"

"To my place to work and draw, I need some action shots," he said as he stood.

"I thought I had to stay still when I posed for you?'

He smiled, and that dimple winked at me.

A half hour later, I packed up my new baking pans, and Mark came to pick us up.

"Mark, the rest of Alexia's things have to be moved out today. Have some people help you and don't leave a crumb in the kitchen. She needs all of her supplies to cook, especially the spices in the pantry. There are canning supplies too."

"Did you inventory my apartment?" I asked.

"I like to be thorough, or hadn't you noticed?" Ben said with a wink.

"Should I stack everything in the kitchen?" Mark asked.

"I'll leave that to Alexia."

"I'll go with you," I said to Mark.

"No, you need to be gone. One of the neighbors would see you and tip off the scum. Plus, your furniture can be donated," Ben said.

"But then I won't have any," I said.

Both men shared a look.

"Alexia, you'll be living with me, you won't need it anymore."

But after our fling, I'd need it.

Ben kissed my hand then squeezed it. We rode the rest of the way in silence.

"Do you mind if I work in the library?" I asked as I walked into Ben's condo.

"This is your home—you're welcome to every room."

"Did I get evicted from your other condo?"

"No, think of it as an upgrade or downgrade, depending on your workload. Speaking of which, I've got too much going on with my meeting coming up. I need to concentrate on taking on my father and his buddies. Having you close calms me."

"Let me know what I can do to help."

He smiled and motioned me to join him in the library. From his profile, I couldn't tell if he carried a wrench or candlestick in his pants.

After another half hour of nookie, two solid hours of mail sorting and answering, one grilled pepper jack cheese sandwich, and a handful of barbeque potato chips, I took out a yellow legal pad and started writing. "The Helen Nance Cobb Children's Museum" headed the page, and I began the outline of my vision. Each book would be given space. The complete text of each on the walls. Hands-on exhibits. Interactive games. Computer programs allowing children to become the characters in the book. Story times and plays. The reprinted books only sold in the bookstore. The proceeds to be used for literacy programs. Promoting aspiring children's authors could also be worked in. Children would be encouraged to submit writing samples to be critiqued and possible scholarships to be awarded. I put all of my ideas on the paper. Three hours later, I had filled four legal pads.

"How are you doing?" He poked his head in the doorway.

I emerged from the haze after pouring my heart out. Would he approve? I turned the legal pads face down.

"Just getting organized."

"I've been thinking about the museum. I own some land by the Art Institute. I'm planning to demolish the building anyway. I've been bombarded with ideas for its use, but your idea makes the most sense. I'm thinking of contacting a couple of architects. I've been jotting down notes. I'd like you to look at them and add your own ideas."

I laughed out loud.

"If you're not interested, just say so," he said.

I stopped laughing and pointed to the slabs of paper on the desk.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." I held up the legal pads.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

He strolled over and picked up my notes.

"Come out in the living room. We'll be more comfortable, and it will be easier to ask questions. Bring more legal pads too."

"Yes, boss." I collected supplies.

"Careful. I intend to be your boss for a long time." He put his arm around me. "No critique, just reading for now. Agreed?"

"Okay."

His insights were extensive and the suggestions doable. My ideas melted into some of his thoughts. A slogan emerged: entertain, educate, and enlighten.

"Alexia, your ideas are brilliant. No hype or commercialism. Simply invite people to share in her delight and wonder. Giving away the bookstore proceeds is the icing on the cake. I've never liked the idea of profiting from my mother's death. There is a fortune to be made with the books. To find a way to revive the past with the original stories and provide for the future of needy children are at the core of Helen Nance Cobb's legacy," he said.

His enthusiasm was encouraging and contagious.

"Your architectural drawings are gorgeous. How much will it cost?" I asked.

"That's the board's problem." Well, the dream was fun while it lasted.

"How long will it take?"

"Our timing is good. We should have all the preliminary blueprints ready and everyone in place by the spring. With all going well I'd say a year from Christmas."

"What a fantastic time. It can be decorated like a present dying to be opened. I'm sure it will work out well for you," I said, handing the legal pads back to him.

"Not me, you. This is your idea. You're gonna help me pitch it to the board."

My jaw dropped open.

"You can't be serious. This is a huge responsibility."

"I know. Workmen need to be hired. Dinners have to be given to raise money. Contact the publisher and order the books. Schmooze my father. You're going to be very busy."

"What if they say no?" I asked, imagining the wasted money and effort.

"I own the majority of the estate. No one would dare fight me." A glint in his eye made me pause before I named his foe.

"Except your father."

"I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a long time. He'll like it up to the point where we give the money away."

"Your father is a very wealthy man."

"He's rich because he's a miser. He lives for control. My father finds overt giving distasteful. He believes in small well-timed drips so as not to spoil the receivers. But, I'm not worried because it's not my idea, it's yours." He sucked me in, and now I was stuck. "You need a stern facial expression and tone to use on my dad. Start practicing. We'll see my attorney this week and drop by a few architects. Check the schedule and start working it in. You can write a limited synopsis of this for the meeting next week. Whet their appetites."

"You are feeding me to the lions limb by limb."

"They're old. They'll gnaw with their gums. You won't feel a thing. We're in this together. Without you, it won't happen. I'm not sure how you did it, but you've tapped into my mother's soul."

Excitement filled me. A worthwhile project, a chance to make a difference in people's lives, and his approval all whirled around me. A trifecta of achievement presented me with my first taste of success with plenty of spices on the side.

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