Chapter 123

I tug at the pleated skirt clinging to my waist. Other than my first date with Jack, I can't remember the last time I've worn anything so remotely girly.

Of course, I had to quash some of the femininity by throwing on a faded Taylor Swift tee over it, along with my white Keds. I re-tuck the shirt and bat away the feelings of self-consciousness.

Hannah is taking care of the kids this afternoon so I can accomplish two major goals:

1. Job.

(The credit card debt is bordering on an existential crisis at this point.)

2. Kadeem.

I yank at the skirt again and head into the health club lobby. I'm slightly tipsy, I'm not going to lie, but it's fine.

The freckly, red-haired man I saw the last time I was here is trying to multitask - busy on the phone and checking someone in simultaneously.

Good! I should be able to slip by unnoticed.

I do my best not to draw any attention to myself while dodging past him, keeping my head down and attempting to act nonchalant.

Just when I think I've made it, I hear his voice call out to me.

"HEY!"

I spin around, jumping about five feet in the air when I find him right beside me.

His name badge reads, "Rory."

"Jesus," I mutter, trying to slow my racing heart.

"I need your member card," he says.

His face is humorless. If there was ever a nark in school, it was him.

"Look, Rory," I say sarcastically, "Does it look like I'm here to work out?" I wave my hands over my skirt.

He gives me a, 'Bitch please,' sort of expression.

"Looks like a tennis skirt to me," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"Well it isn't!" I snap back indignantly.

I hear a whoosh from the front door opening. Someone steps inside.

He points to the tiny backpack purse strapped over one of my shoulders. "Or maybe you have clothes to change into."

"Yeah. The world's smallest pair of shorts," I quip.

A man is standing at the desk, waiting to be swiped in, but Rory ignores him.

He furrows his brow at me. "Lycra isn't known for its bulk."

"Please," I say. "Like I would be caught dead in Lycra."

I try to blow past him, but he holds out his hand and his voice comes in a warning.

"I'm going to have to call for security."

A hollow laugh escapes my throat and I keep going. Kadeem doesn't need security. He is the security.

"Go ahead," I giggle. "Call him."

I shake my head, walking unperturbed through the lobby when I feel someone tap me forcefully on the shoulder. I swivel around to come face-to-face with a broad-shouldered woman in a security get-up.

"You weren't bluffing," I sigh.

Rory is nodding his head. "That's the one," he says.

"Oh come on," I shout, exasperatedly, looking up to the ceiling for some kind of divine intervention.

"Miss," the woman says, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"No, you're not," I snap.

Her authoritarian tone pushes the (slightly) inebriated belligerence further.

I try to move around her, but she's muscling her way in front to block me.

"I'm here to see Kadeem," I growl.

"And what business do you have with him?"

"None of yours," I say haughtily. I stand up on my tiptoes in search of a familiar face. Where's Greta and Dylan when you need them? Or an old client, maybe?

"Let's go, Swiftie," she says, grabbing hold of my sleeve.

The nerve of her!

I yank my shoulder back. "Really," I say, my voice bitter, "This isn't the embassy!"

I attempt to shove past her and she starts manhandling me.

I grit my teeth. "Get off of me!" But she has her arms wrapped fast around me.

"What is going on?"

We both freeze at the sound of Kadeem's voice.

I look up to see an appalled kind of shock painted all over his face. He's standing in a gray tee, shorts, and Adidas. There's a towel slung over his shoulder and a sheen of sweat over his face.

The guard takes the opportunity to lock me tighter in a hold.

I expect Kadeem to tell her to let me go immediately, but his eyes are set in anger.

I try to rip my hands away. "Let me go," I snarl at her, but she only holds on tighter. A primal fight instinct hits me at the tightness of her grip and I start to fight like a cat, wriggling, and attempting ferociously to pull away from her grip.

"Don't worry," the guard is telling Kadeem, breathlessly, trying to hold me off, "She was just leaving!"

"No, no, lay off of her," Kadeem says, sighing as he rolls his eyes. He gives me a quick glance and shakes his head to himself.

The guard hesitates. "Sir?"

Kadeem nods and she drops my arms, grumbling. I wrench them away as she does, and stumble towards Kadeem, who catches me.

"Took you long enough," I mutter.

"Nora and Rory," he says, ignoring me. "This is my ex-wife. She can come in whenever she wants."

Rory's face goes as red as his hair. "Sorry, sir."

Ex-wife, I think, guess I'm only his girlfriend when it suits him.

We walk down the hall together, the tension rife.

"Do you always have to go about things the hard way," Kadeem asks.

"It's none of their business who I am," I say. "Just because they're new here isn't my problem. They should just -"

"What," he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Accept my obvious authority at being here."

Kadeem opens the office door, giving me a look of pure agitation. "I kind of hired them to do a job, Ardal."

We step inside and I close the door and lock it behind me.

Kadeem glances at the locked door, but doesn't say anything. He sits down wearily in his chair. There are dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired," I say.

"I am."

I decide to get what I came for. I sidle up into his lap. He looks, at once, surprised and exasperated, but he lets me.

"Long night," I ask.

Without waiting for him to respond, I kiss him, but after a moment, he breaks away. "You taste like champagne," he says. "Little early in the day, don't you think?" He's frowning at me.

"Says the man who looks hungover."

He rolls his eyes.

"It's called liquid courage," I say.

He pauses. "And what do you need courage for?"

I wrap my arms around him and kiss him again.

"This," I whisper.

Kadeem melts into my kiss, but then he pulls back again. "You need a buzz to make out with me?"

"This is definitely going to be more than a make-out session," I say.

I wore this skirt for a reason.

His brow wrinkles. "Why are you nervous? And second of all, I'm kind of at work. Can we wait till we're alone? At night - ideally, with a bed to fall into, like most sane people?"

I shake my head. "Who knows when that will be? And besides, I didn't want to wait. I'm tired of waiting."