Page 60 of Love is Strange
“Cinder,” the name rolled off of Gabriel’s lips.
“And actually,” she continued. “I’m from Tennessee.” She winked at me slyly.
“Oh, really?” Gabe replied sounding surprised.I was.“Nashville?” he asked, taking a stab at what southern town she hailed from. “I’m usually pretty good with accents… I had you pegged for a Georgia peach.”
“Oh, no honey,” Cinder replied with a chuckle. “There’s a lot more to Tennessee to the Opry and Music City. I’m from Pigeon Forge, about three hours away. That’s where I was born and raised.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was unsure what to say next.Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. It sounded as backwoods country as you could get. I wonder what brings a small town country girl like her to the big city.The question swirled around and around in Gabriel’s head until eventually he plucked up the courage to ask.
“So… Cinder. What brings a sweet lil thing like you to the mean streets of the Big Apple?” Gabriel asked, trying his very best not to sound like a judgmental dick. Hearing my voice, I was confident that I had left all traces of judgment from my tone and instead just sounded curious and inquisitive.
“Oh, I needed a change of scenery. But I love it here. I work here in the mornings, and I work at the theatres at night, over on Broadway, for a variety of shows.”
“Oh?” I asked, sounded more surprised than I probably should have let on. I did not expect this. She did not appear to be the typical Broadway stage diva. She was far too low-key to fit that particular mold. Cinder certainly was her own type of woman, and she marched to her own off-key beat. There was something that I found deeply attractive by her independent and rebellious nature. Breaking myself from my train of thought, I continued, “Which shows are you performing in?”
A smile grew upon Cinder’s face. Obviously the theatre was something that she was very passionate about. “I perform three days a week inA Streetcar Named Desire, twice a week inCats, and I am in the Saturday night performance ofTromperieeach week,” Cinder explained.
She smiled as she watched my expression morph from curiosity to muted surprise.
“You’re kidding?” I ask, knowing that just by the look on her face that she indeed was not kidding at all.
“No. You should come to a show one night. I’ll give a free backstage pass,” Cinder said with a sly wink. “I’ll leave it at Will Call,” Cinder offered jovially as she placed my coffee cup down on the table.
In her usual style, she wrote my name on the side of the cup in cursive and left her digits once again. I had been tempted to strike up this conversation with her for months now. Maybe this time, I would actually pluck up the nerve to call her. Imagine that. Mr. Big Time CEO is afraid to call a cute barrista at the coffee shop outside the skyscraper I own. What the fuck is wrong with this picture? Well let me tell you. It wasn’t shyness and it certainly wasn’t lack of confidence. That is something I have never lacked. What scared me, though, was that this time, it felt real. There was genuine chemistry and true interest. This wouldn’t be just another one-night stand. I could feel it in my bones. I hated breaking my rules. They had served me well so far... but something told me that Cinder would make it worth my while.
“Actually,” the word rolled off my tongue before I could even attempt to hold it back. It sounded tempted - animalistic, almost. The word was pregnant with expectation, like a dog who was having a steak waved right under its snout. “I’d love to come.”
Cinder jumped back a little in feigned shock. A vibrant smile broke upon her face and as her pearly white teeth were bared at me, I couldn’t help but notice just how happy my small gesture had made her. That told me a lot about Cinder in that moment. She wasn’t used to being supported in her endeavors. The tiniest bit of encouragement or support went a long way. I knew that she was different from the gate. She was not a spoiled, pampered Fifth Avenue princess. Cinder was salt of the earth, unique, creative and different. Her beauty was undeniable, but there was much more to her than that. Cinder had soul. She had depth; mysteries to be revealed and secrets to be unraveled. I was determined to be the man that uncovered them.
Cinder reached into her back pocket and plucked out a small notepad. Scribbling upon it, she wrote a note for me in broad floral script. She dragged the pen heavily across the paper and when she was done, ripped the page out of the notepad and tucked the pen away. Cinder looked at me with a charged expression in her eyes as she passed the paper to me.
“Here’s the address. Your ticket will be at Will Call,” she explained with a sly smile on her face.
“Awesome,” I said as I took the piece of paper from Cinder. “Thank you. What show will I be seeing tonight?”
Cinder smiled seductively at me, pursuing her mouth and tracing a single, immaculately manicured fingernail along the curve of her lips. “It’s Saturday…” Cinder began. “You’ll be seeing a little show called Tromperie.” She eyed me up and down, appearing to soak up the image before her. Then finally, with the corners of her lips curling into a soft smile, Cinder said, “See you at Seven, Mr. Cartwright… by the way, my stage name is Veronica Westerly.”
The Veronica Westerly?
Without another word, I watched as Cinder departed my table, running her fingers along the surface. My eyes lingered upon her red fingernails trace the edge of the table. Peering up, my eyes met her’s. She was glancing back at me, peering over her shoulders with the most seductive and enticing gaze I had ever encountered in my life. There was just something about her. She was magnetic. My eyes were drawn to her, and I wasn’t about to remove my gaze from the fine lines of her figure. As she sauntered away, I watched her silhouette, dreaming about the curves that awaited me under her dress. I watched the sway of her hips, the gentle way her legs swept away from me, the sweet curl of her strawberry red hair.
“Cinder”, I breathily said out loud.
She heard me. Her smile slid from her mouth. Locking eyes with me, Cinder winked, pursed her lips, and disappeared behind the kitchen door of the coffee shop.
Chapter Two
I wanta love that will scorch the night to ashes. I want a passion that will make the stars burn out. Ecstasy and agony, beautiful and brutal. I want something that cannot be ignored. I want something deserving of a spotlight and the headlines. When I first laid eyes upon Gabriel Cartwright, I was transfixed. It happened at the café I work at two summers ago. I would watch him as I served freshly brewed coffee and cappuccinos to the patrons. Mr. Cartwright, who insisted that I call him Gabriel, ordered a venti Espresso. As his hot drink steamed before me, I wrote his name in cursive on the side of the mug with a little heart next to his name. Slyly, I wrote my name and cell phone number just under his name on the cup. Pouring over his black hard-back journal, Gabe’s mysterious gaze focused on the words that streamed from his silver fountain pen. His earthy hazel eyes flickered up at me every few pages. He noticed me, but he didn’t make an advance. There was something about him – something different. Gabriel was watching me, observing me, it seemed. I knew then and there, I had to have him. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. Glancing at me with a charged glint in his eyes, Gabriel acknowledged what I knew.
Our love would set the world aflame.
Cinder hung up her apron in the breakroom and quickly proceeded to the timeclock. She punched out in record time, and hit the pavement, exiting the cafe through the back door. Stepping out into the alleyway, Cinder pulled on her vintage leather jacket tight over her chest to fight against the brisk autumn wind.
“Brrr…” Cinder said to herself as the brisk wind cut her to the bone. I hurry through the streets, the sound of her high heels clopping loudly against the cement pavement below announcing her presence to passerbys at the corner. A few of the men turn around to gawk at her.I don’t pay them any mind. They’re no Gabriel Cartwright, that’s for damn sure.
Gabriel Cartwright.My heart raced at the sound of his name. He is a man like no other I have ever encountered. He is brilliant, beautiful, sophisticated and timeless. There was often a shrewdness to his gaze; other times his eyes appeared soft and sensitive, pools of emotional turmoil. His business acumen preceded him - everyone in town knew all about Gabriel’s business reputation. He was a shark in the boardroom, and he’d draw blood to ensure the success of his business. But as a man, I was certain that he let his heart guide his actions. Gabriel Cartwright was much too tempestuous a man to allow his mind to inhibit him. A man like him was driven by a forceful passion - a passion which I had my heart on experiencing first hand.
Throwing her right hand up into the air, she attempted to hail down a taxi cab. A few zipped by, each with a passenger inside, so she waited my turn for a free cab. After a few moments, a bright yellow taxi cab came to a screeching halt outside of the café. The driver rolled down the window and glared at Cinder with an impatient expression oozing from his dark eyes.
