New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred

This was temporary. She’d be out of his hair soon enough.

She put on a cocky smirk and looked around, anywhere but at him. “It’s great. Listen, I should go study,” she said and promptly fled the room.

FOUR HOURS LATER, SHE was already settled, sitting on her brand-new futon. The earlier flicker of fear had caught her by surprise. And it wasn’t just any fear. No, it was the dreaded man-fear. The implications of living with Gabe had suddenly hit her in places where she didn’t want to feel those complicated implications.

Denny had been the only man she had ever lived with, and in those young, naive days, he had convinced her that she didn’t need to worry about her future. College? Nah. If she only hooked up with Denny Ericcson, then all her dreams would come true. So Tessa deferred the college years, took a part time job as a bartender and spent her days tanning on the sunny Florida beaches. But then her twenty-second birthday arrived. Denny told her that the relationship had gone stale and he was ready to move on, because he wasn’t the one-woman-forever type. Putting her out to pasture at twenty-two.

Dreams could come true? Ha. More like nightmares.

Needless to say, the last four years had been manless. No hookups, no man dreams and, yes, there’d been times in the past when she’d felt momentary urges, but nothing lasting. As a bartender, it was expected that your customers would hit on you. You learned how to either brush aside the urges or act on them. Tessa was a brush-asider, always a brush-asider.

And, to be honest, she’d had urges for Gabe before, too, because, well, she wasn’t blind, or stupid, and Gabe was…

Oh, God. Living with him was going to kill her study skills.

Even her room was filled with his presence, and he wasn’t even here. She felt like an intruder in this place that was so obviously his.

A metal desk stood in the corner, covered with O’Sullivan family photos, papers nearly overflowing the top. A weight bench sat next to the window, and a monstrous collection of vinyl records sat in open boxes in the corner. Her first thought was to snoop, but that was a violation of all the roommate privacy regulations that she kept dear.

No, she was going to study, so Tessa covered her face with her accounting book, blocking out all temptation. Eventually the sinking fund method of depreciation brought her back to a mind-numbing cold reality. And then, as if to really drag her back to reality, her mother called.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, abandoning all pretense of studying and wandering over to look at the O’Sullivan family pictures.

“How did you know it was me? Were you thinking of your favorite mother?”

“Caller ID, Mom.” Her mom was a Luddite where technology was concerned, but Tessa forgave her for it.

“Your phone’s been disconnected.”

With a heavy and completely audible sigh, Tessa put back the photo of three dark-headed boys in Little League uniforms.

“I moved, Mom,” she said, before mouthing the word Again?

“Again?”

Argh.

“Mom, you don’t understand the Manhattan apartment market. Rents are always changing, fees are going up, rentals turn into co-ops overnight. You have to stay on your toes, ready to handle whatever comes your way.”

“That assumes that someone can handle whatever comes their way.”

“How long have I lived on my own?”

“You’ve been in New York for four years, but you never have lived on your own. You should come back to Florida, Tessa. Your family is here and we can help you.”

Tessa returned to the comfort of her futon and leaned her head against the wooden back. This was a horse that’d been beaten, eviscerated and then hung on the wall as modern art. “Thank you, Mom, but no. I love you, and Florida’s grand, but I’m doing fine here. Honestly.”

“I just worry. If something happens, who’s going to take care of you? Are you eating okay?”

“Pastrami and rye for lunch.”

“Getting enough sleep?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tessa answered, stifling a yawn.

“How are the classes going?” Her mom had never approved of her going back for a degree, which meant only one thing: there was an ulterior motive to this conversation, and Tessa probably wasn’t going to like it.

Time to transition from negative energy to something positive—like hanging up.

“Good. Listen, Mom, I have an accounting quiz this week and I need to study. Talk to you soon, ’bye.”

Because she didn’t like the idea of lying to her mom, she opened her accounting book and went after it again. However, her concentration was elsewhere, poking through the record collection, browsing the photos. In short, being everything she hated in a nosy person. So Tessa loaded up her book bag, stuck her feet into a pair of flip-flops and headed for the door.

Sacked out on the living room couch, sleeping peacefully, without a worry in the world, was the source of her wandering concentration. It must be marvelous to take a nap in the afternoon. Her lips curved into a smile as she watched him sleep. He’d been the one constant in her life since she’d moved to New York, but she’d never seen him sleep. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, one arm flung over the edge. He even snored a little, a comfortable rumble that was low and even. She’d have to tease him about that. A plaid throw dangled from one armrest, and she took it, tucking it around him.

Instantly the hazy blue eyes opened. “Problem?”

Tessa jumped back, caught red-headed in the act of intruding on his space. “Heading off to Starbucks.”

Gabe didn’t seem to notice her violation, instead rubbing at his forehead with two fingers. “Sounds great. Can you bring me back a cup?”

“I’m going to study and then I’m heading for class.”

He sat up, tossing the throw aside, and Tessa took another step back. Wow, twelve hundred square feet could really be tiny at times.

“You can study here. Set up at the table or the desk in the back room. I can toss my stuff on the floor.”

“I have trouble concentrating. It’s a self-discipline tactic. When I go to the coffee shop, I know I’m there to study.”

“Ha. Some people go for coffee. Unenlightened plebes.”

She was about to launch into a lecture, but he held up a hand. “I know, I know. I won’t interfere. Personal space. Sorry. This is new to me. What about dinner? I’m thinking either pasta or Thai.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab a sandwich after class. And FYI, I’ll be back around seven in case you want to get out, or, uh, have company or something.”

His mouth twitched. “Sure.”

TESSA’S ACCOUNTING CLASS was at the Knightsbridge Community College in Queens, which overlooked Flushing Bay. Forty people comprised her class. Young students, old students, an ethnic smorgasbord from all walks of life. Tessa had never doubted her abilities to breeze through this class with eyes closed, but…

Last week’s test was the first item on the menu, and Professor Lewis walked up and down the aisles, handing out papers with a smile or a frown. When he reached Tessa, he frowned.

She frowned in return.

Her frown grew even darker when she saw the fat red D scrawled on the top of the test. This had to be a mistake, because a failing grade was not part of her life plan.

She waited patiently through the lecture, sneaking a peek at the paper every few minutes, checking to make sure she had read it correctly—maybe it was a half-assed B—but, no, with all the red circles, there was no mistake.

After the clock ticked the hour and her classmates started to file out, Tessa walked up to the prof’s desk on slightly wobbly legs, reminding herself that she faced angry drunks at three in the morning. This shouldn’t be a problem. Professor Lewis was long past middle age, with a thin, ruddy face that indicated a long love affair with, most likely, scotch.