Interlude [Book 2] Read online

  “It’s an interlude.” My eyes remain fixed on the keys before me.

  “An interlude in Disappear?” he asks with curiosity.

  “No,” I answer with hesitation. “To my life.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m just being poetic.” Can I be honest that the title of my composition parallels my time with him? It is short and brief but the most passionate time in my life that will ultimately result in heartbreak.

  “That was beautiful. Just like everything about you.” I make my way to him, closing the distance between us. Rather than sit beside him, Julian gestures for me to sit on his lap. Placing the now empty glass of whiskey on the side table, he wraps his arms around me. Warmth spreads all over when I feel his stubble in the crook of my neck. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” He moves his lips close to my ear. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of you playing the piano here? Just the way you used to play for me when we were kids. I bought the Steinway for you. I had imagined being here in this room with you while you played it.” His soft lips plant light kisses along the side of my neck before he whispers, “And how far my imagination has taken me. I’ve never been this happy before.”

  Taken aback, I turn my head and capture his bottom lip. “Is it me or my music that makes you happy?” I ask, teasing him.

  “You. Your music. Your smile,” he says with tenderness.

  “You make me happy too.” I turn my body and straddle him with my legs. Staring directly into those gray-blue eyes of his that make me crazy, I lean slightly forward. My palm instantly comes to rest on his chest, feeling it rise and fall. The rapid beating of his heart startles me.

  He’s as affected as I am.

  “Lina, you unravel me.”

  Fifteen

  I lead two separate lives. Unlike my life in LA, my life here is nonstop. A few weeks ago, I would idle through life, time moving slowly with no purpose. It was difficult to get out of bed. Now that I’m back in the city I grew up in, time seems to move too quickly with not enough hours in the day. I continue to score for Darling Films, visit Marcel several times a week without Astrid’s presence, and spend every night making love with his son.

  Life is delicious.

  Julian left for a meeting in San Francisco early this morning, and tonight is our first night apart in weeks. Strange what being in love does to me. It makes the longing unbearable. I toss and turn, unable to sleep without my lover.

  My bed, or rather Julian’s bed, feels empty without him. I contemplate the idea of taking a cab to my loft even though it’s the middle of the night. Maybe lying in my own bed would help me sleep. But the need to have Julian close by usurps that idea. The pillowcases still hold his scent, and that is comforting. Plus, I can’t wake Mugpie. The play date with Samson wore him out. It’s one in the morning, and Julian’s calling me.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.” I yawn.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “No, I’m awake. I received an unexpected package today,” I say while cuddling in bed with a snoring bulldog. “I had never thought of buying an encyclopedia of film composers. So thank you. ”

  “I didn’t see a copy in your loft. And you’re included in the most recent edition.”

  “I am?” I ask incredulously.

  “You certainly are. So what did my favorite composer do today?”

  “I had dinner with Cosima and the music conductor a few hours ago.”

  “The Maestro?” I can hear the apprehension in his voice.

  “Yes, the Maestro.” I answer. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Do I need to be?”

  “Just because Chadwick David is young, hot and talented,” I say teasingly.

  “Lina.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re mine. No third party.” He deadpans before asking, “Miss me, darling?”

  “Maybe.” I face the framed photo of us on his nightstand. I’m staring directly at the camera lens while his focus is on me.

  “Well I won’t be coy with you. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. And now, I’m jealous of a music conductor.”

  “Really?” My head is on Julian’s pillow, inhaling it, thankful that it still held his scent.

  “Yes, really. Everything about you makes me … feel … and …”

  “And?” I stroke Mugpie’s wrinkly back before he turns to his side.

  “You’ve given me teenage fever.” He chuckles. “During my meetings today, all I could envision was you spread-eagle on my bed, waiting for me to feast on your tight, wet pussy.”

  “Julian, please, you’re making me blush.”

  “Darling, you know you love it.”

  “Love what?”

  “My filthy mouth and the things I can do with it. You make me hard all the time. I want to bury my face between your sweetness before burying my cock in you for hours.”

  Well, it didn’t take long for him to convince me to have phone sex. Just his raspy voice alone excites me. But his dirty talk takes me to another level.

  He continues without any restraints. “Imagine my mouth on your sweet, delicious cunt. What does it feel like to have my cock buried so deep inside you that you don’t know where you and I begin? I want to smell you, taste you, and have you come all over my face. My cock gets hard just hearing your voice ... fuck … Baby, my cock is aching … fucking hard just thinking of you. I’m going to fuck your arse soon. There isn’t going to be an inch of you that I haven’t possessed.”

  My neck and shoulder cradle the phone as my fingers circle my clit. In a matter of minutes, I scream his name as I come. On the other end of the phone line is a man who makes me crazy with lust as he chases his own orgasm. We don’t hang up right away. We talk for a good half hour before I fall asleep with a snoring Mugpie next to me.

  Julian is due back today. As I continue to work at his place, watching the reel provided by Darling Films, I find it difficult to concentrate. Although I had watched several footages that needed music cues, my creative brain has completely blanked out. Is it a creative block, or is it simply a case of falling in love? All I can do is relive the past few weeks with a certain Englishman. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I saw him, and my body is going haywire. We had phone sex last night, but that orgasm couldn’t compete with the ones my talented lover gave me. I shouldn’t complain. A few months ago, it was difficult for me to come. Now, with Julian, just his voice could get me off. He has become an addictive drug. Now, it makes sense how people get addicted to sex.

  But it’s more than sex. Because I think about how much I love hearing his ideas. I love sharing meals with him. I love walking the city streets with him. I love when we read passages from books to each other. I love lying in his arms as we share our day with each other. I love drinking coffee in comfortable silence with him because there’s never the need to make small talk. I love the middle of the day texts he sends just to let me know he’s thinking of me. I love making music playlists for him. I love it when he sits by me as I play the piano.

  Simply put, I love him.

  I stare up at the ceiling, and I see Julian’s face. His startling eyes. His Roman nose. His high cheekbones. His strong jaw. His full lips. And the pronounced scar on his cheek.

  I listen to music and wonder if he likes this song. I walk over to his closet just to smell his shirts. Parading around his vast penthouse, I find everything is Julian. I could go to my place, but no doubt I would still be obsessing over him. Lina, get a hold of yourself. Maybe going out with a friend would help. But there are less than a handful of folks whose company I seek.

  Although I’ve seen some of my friends these past few weeks, both of my closest friends have been away. Roger is in London with Alex. And for the past few weeks, Patti has been in Vancouver handholding another client. This time, a director caught cheating on his wife with his very young starlet, through a media blitz.

  My phone vibrates, and I grin, when a text from
Patti appears.

  PATTI: I’m finally back. I need a fucking drink. Let’s meet for lunch.

  I immediately respond:

  ME: I was just thinking of you. I’ve missed you. Where?

  PATTI: I have a meeting at 3 pm not too far from your loft. How about Carbone?

  ME: Definitely.

  Sixteen

  Carbone is a small restaurant around the corner from my loft. Housed in what was once my father’s favorite restaurant, Rocco’s, this will be my first time at the restaurant since it changed ownership. While waiting for Patti, I can’t help but be amazed at how my neighborhood’s transformed. More upscale buildings have been erected in the past seven years, and Thompson Street now contains several famous restaurants. Tomo, Lupa, Carbone, and only a few blocks south is SIXTY SoHo Hotel.

  With her big Gucci sunglasses, Patti strolls in like a movie star. My best girlfriend is wearing a bright red silk shirt and tight, black leather pants. She has often compared herself to a larger, Jewish version of her idol, Jennifer Lopez. The truth is, Patti is more like a taller version of Seinfeld’s Elaine. With her four-inch heels, she towers over the waiters, and as soon as our eyes meet, she quickly walks over to our table.

  Bending slightly, she offers me a warm, tight embrace. It’s been several months since we last saw one another.

  Her mouth opens as soon as she sits down. “Oh. My. Gawd. You look Fa.Bu.Lous. I want to hear it all!”

  With the crook of my forefinger, I gesture her to come closer. “I don’t even know where to start.” I chew the bottom of my lower lip before admitting, “It finally happened.”

  “What?” she asks as she rolls up her sleeves.

  “Something I thought I would never experience,” I whisper in the intimate Italian restaurant.

  “What? Spill it!” Patti demands before taking a sip of water.

  “I finally had an orgasm with someone, actually hundreds,” I exclaim with such delight as I sip a glass of Pinot Noir.

  Patti laughs so hard that her large breasts hit the table. Her hysteria causes her to almost fall out of her chair while all of the patrons in this tiny restaurant turn around. With less than ten tables in the room, I believe everyone heard her excitement. And it dawns on me; they may have also heard my admission.

  After her laughter dies down, she straightens herself and asks the waiter for another glass of Pinot Noir, having drank mine. Looking directly at me, she says, “So… what’s going on with you and this Julian guy besides mind-blowing sex? By the way, I am sooooo fucking happy that not only did you finally have an orgasm but you left that sorry ass fool in LA.”

  “I’ve made up for lost time.” I giggle, and a few seconds later, I’m serious. “Andrew is not a sorry ass fool. Even though we broke up, I just don’t know what will become of my relationship with him. Do you believe he hasn’t even called? Not once. I told you about the good luck text.” I study the new glass of wine before me before taking another sip.

  “When you mentioned the good luck text, I thought you were joking.”

  “No. He sent me a good luck text.”

  “I think you have your answer there.” She surveys the room, looking for our waiter. “What’s there to wonder? He let you go. You left. You found another man who obviously has made you happy. I can’t ever remember you looking this good. You’re glowing.”

  “He’s been amazing. But−” I realize that I can finally talk to someone about my reservations. “This thing with him is temporary. He made it abundantly clear that this is short term.”

  Reaching for my hand, she lightly squeezes it. “Just take it for what it is. Enjoy yourself, and when it’s time to walk away, just think of the great sex you had. It’s an … what is that term called between acts?”

  “Intermission?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Interlude?”

  “Yes, that’s it. A sex-filled interlude. Do you really want another long-term relationship after just leaving Andrew? You had been shackled for what, twelve years?”

  Sixteen.

  I ponder my friend’s honesty and don’t respond immediately. If I could have my way, I would spend my life with Julian. I often daydream of having little ones with dark hair and intense gray-blue eyes running around. When I’m with him, everything in the world is perfect. He makes me laugh. He makes me angry. He makes me desperate for him. He challenges me. He knows all my quirks. He knows all my fears. He believes in my talent. He accepts me for who I am, and most of all, knows who I am. He is home. It is now that I vocalize what I fear.

  “I’m in love with him.”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Patti tilts her head slightly. She stays mum for what seems like forever. She sighs before taking my hand again and petting it gently. “Lina, Lina, Lina.”

  “What?”

  “I had a feeling you’d fallen in love,” she says softly.

  “How could you have known?” I ask surprised.

  “Just looking at you. The times that we’ve spoken, it’s always Julian this, Julian that, and believe it or not, I can hear the huge smile in your voice. You’re deliriously happy. I would start singing J Lo’s “The One,” but my voice is shot from screaming so much last night. Louie’s stamina is insane. That man is a beast!” She chuckles until she notices I haven’t joined her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m a mess. A fucking mess,” I admit, more to myself.

  “No, you’re not. You’re in love, and although you still love Andrew, I think this might be the first time you’ve actually fallen in love.”

  Yes, it is the first time I’ve fallen in love.

  “What should I do?” There’s really nothing you can do, Lina.

  “Well, for one, you can show me a picture of Julian. I Googled him, and all the images I found were those of an awkward prepubescent teen with nerdy glasses and an octogenarian. I highly doubt that you’d be screwing either of them. Are you?” She’s cracking up; her body is actually shaking. Her boisterous laughter brings a smile to my face.

  “You Googled him?” I ask, wondering why I haven’t done that myself.

  Because you’ve known him your entire life.

  “Duh, because he’s become my best friend’s entire world! Of course, I want to know more about this Caine guy. I wanted to make sure that he’s legit, you know? Don’t you watch Dateline?”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry we haven’t really talked. And as far as Julian goes, no, I don’t understand why you felt the need to Google him.” I pause and out of curiosity, I need to know why there’s nothing online about him. “There are no pictures of him online? Isn’t that odd?” I always thought one could find anything online. As I think about it, he doesn’t participate in social media. He once declared himself the most introverted capitalist around. He doesn’t have a Facebook account, doesn’t participate in Linkedin, doesn’t tweet. Rather interesting, considering he invests in social networking companies.

  “I thought so, too. Do you have a picture of him on your phone?” She nods at my large black backpack.

  Retrieving my phone, I comb through several photos of Julian. Several pictures later, the selfie I took with him yesterday morning appears. This one is perfect.

  “Before you show me the pic, you know the question I have to ask.” Patti winks.

  Oh, God.

  I take another sip of my wine, disclosing, “Julian’s … definitely … big.”

  “Big, big? Or Oh. My. Gawd! He’s enormous, he can tear my pussy kind of big?” She has no filter whatsoever. Her hands are now about eight inches apart.

  “I can’t, Patti.”

  “Pleaaaaase humor me,” she pleads, before giving me an exaggerated wink.

  I grin so hard, remembering how sore he could make me. “Okay.” Returning her wink with a nod. I lean forward, and with my own hands, I move Patti’s hands farther apart. I pause when they’re about nine inches apart, and I smile. “Yup, that’s about the size.”

  Her big brown eyes
light up.

  “Patti?”

  “Wow. I thought Louie was big,” she discloses as she snorts with laughter.

  “He gives Bruce a run for his money,” I whisper softly as if the other patrons would care about my sex life.

  Patti’s mouth now hangs open. Her love for the porn star, Bruce Venture, knows no bound. She has a Tumblr account, IloveMr.Venture, devoted solely to him.

  My best girlfriend doesn’t hold back when she questions his ability as a lover. “He loves to eat pussy, right?” Tapping her manicured fingernails on the table, she waits for an answer.

  I don’t answer and only offer her a smirk. And now my friend has turned into the Grand Inquisitor. “Is he sweet down there, or does he go to town? Does he hang out there like it’s a chore, or does he make you feel like heaven is between your legs? Come on, now. You know that’s when you’ve found the right man!”

  My blushing cheeks redden.

  “Oh my Gawd! You’ve finally found a real man who loves to eat pussy!” she screams out loud like a woman who just won the lottery!

  All eyes are on us, and the patrons in this tiny restaurant have their mouths hanging open. Patti waves her right hand in the air as if she’s brushing them off. “Don’t mind them. They’re jealous.”

  We both giggle like teenagers, and then I remember I need to show her a photograph of the man who has liberated me. “This one is my new favorite.” I show her the photo of Julian looking straight ahead at the camera while I kiss his day-old stubble. We had just made love, and I knew he would be leaving for his trip. I’m not into selfies but I wanted one with him.

  Julian in the morning with his disheveled hair, day-old stubble, and the gleam in his light eyes is priceless. Patti continues to stare at the photo as I wait for the ‘I can’t believe how hot he is’ comment. But all I hear are other patrons conversing among themselves.