Otherwise Occupied

  “What did you go through?”

  I felt her body still beside me. She didn’t quite go tense, but I could tell she was just waiting. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she knew there was more, and she was going to try to out-patience me, and I let her. I never should have – I never should have let her get as close as she did. I never should have said anything at all to her.

  It could only end in tears.

  Or blood.

  “I was a POW,” I finally told her. “I was captured and held for a year and a half somewhere in the Middle East – Iraq, Afghanistan, or possibly both. I couldn’t really tell, and the people who did it weren’t exactly forthcoming with a lot of information. Once I was found and brought back to the States, the Colonel didn’t think I was fit for the military anymore.”

  “You were…captured?”

  I could barely hear her words, but I knew what she was saying – I’d heard similar reactions many times. It was part of the reason why I didn’t talk about it. It was everyone’s initial reaction – the disbelief that seemed to turn itself to some sort of plea to be told it was all a sick joke.

  Like anyone would joke about that shit.

  “The rest of my unit was killed a mile from our camp,” I told her. “Since I was the only officer, they figured I must have information, so I was taken prisoner and tortured for eighteen months.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered under her breath.

  “Don’t do that,” I growled. I turned my eyes on her and glared. “It was years ago. I don’t want that shit from you, got it? That’s just why I left – they said after all of that, the doctors didn’t think I was fit for combat any more, and I didn’t want some fucking desk job, so I was discharged.”

  My head was pounding again, and my chest ached with the labor of breathing. Aside from that, I still felt absolutely grimy, and talk of what had happened to me just made me think of sweat, sand, and dust.

  “I need a shower,” I muttered as I tried to push myself back out of bed.

  As soon as my feet hit the floor, I got dizzy and stumbled. I didn’t quite fall, but I had to put the palm of my hand on the mattress to keep the floor from coming right up to my face.

  Bridgett practically had to walk me all the way to the bathroom. Once I was there, the dizziness left just long enough for me to take a piss in private. I turned on the shower but immediately starting cussing the damn thing out when I couldn’t get the temperature right.

  “How about I help you?”

  Bridgett opened the door and moved up beside me. She reached around, adjusted the water, stripped, and then got in with me.

  “I need to shave first,” I told her as she reached for the bottle of shampoo.

  She looked up to my face.

  “I’m not sure I could do that for you.”

  “I can do it.” I wasn’t sure, but it was going to drive me crazy if I didn’t. She got the razor for me and helped me lather up my face, and then I used the little round mirror in the shower to make sure I didn’t miss anywhere.

  I felt a thousand times better.

  “We’re going to have to make this quick,’ Bridgett said when I was done. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Just lean against the tiles.”

  I was too weak to argue with her.

  The tiles were cold on my back, but the water and Bridgett’s hands were warm. She started with a small handful of shampoo, and I had to lean forward a bit so she could reach around my head and wash my hair. Her fingers massaged my scalp, and I didn’t want to think about how good it felt.

  She moved down my neck to my shoulders, filling her hands with liquid body-wash and coating my skin in lather. She washed my chest, my stomach, and down my legs. My eyes closed as she ran her hands all over me, and my cock remembered the way she had touched me in the past.

  With my eyes opened just a slit, I watched her mouth move close to the head of my cock as she washed my feet and legs. As my body reacted to her on her knees in front of me, Bridgett glanced up at me – her look questioning.

  I shook my head.

  “I’d just fall over,” I informed her, and she nodded.

  Her hands still ran over me, cleaned me from top to bottom, and I made a mental note to bring her back in here when I was healthy again. Images of her sucking my cock or with her back up against the tiles floated around in my dizzy head until she pulled me into the water, rinsed and dried me, and then hauled me back to bed, naked.

  By the time she got herself dried off, I was already asleep.

  * * * * *

  The next morning I was markedly better. I even took Odin out for a quick trip to the grassy area of Lake Shore East Park. It ended up being all I was up for, but I figured it was still progress. The air was warm for the end of February, and after I brought Odin back up to the apartment, I went out on the balcony and looked over at the lake.

  “You have such a beautiful view up here,” Bridgett said as she came up behind me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and placed her head against my shoulder. “Is that Millennium Park over there?”

  She pointed off to the south.

  “Yep,” I replied.

  “It’s on my list of places to visit,” she said quietly.

  “Visit?”

  “Yeah, when I first moved here I had this big long list of places I wanted to see – the Art Institute, the Shedd Aquarium – all those places. I haven’t been to many yet.”

  “What about The Bean?”

  Bridgett snickered.

  “Never been there,” she said with the emphasis on the pun, which I ignored.

  “What do you mean you’ve never been to The Bean?”

  Bridgett shrugged.

  “I only moved here a few months ago,” she said. “I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to check out the city. It was always part of the plan, but then again – there are a lot of things I had planned that didn’t happen. Ultimately, I have to make a living, and that pretty much takes up all my time. I never got around to doing any sightseeing.”

  “So what places in the city have you gone to?” I asked.

  “A friend took me up to the Observatory when I first arrived,” she said. “I’ve been out to Navy Pier and went to the area where all the museums are but never actually saw the exhibits. I was just applying for jobs.”

  “Why didn’t you go work at one of those places?”

  “I didn’t get hired,” she shrugged.

  I looked over to her and carefully observed her posture as she looked out over the balcony rail, obviously not actually looking at anything outside of her own mind. I watched her hidden memories move around in her head as her tears formed in the corners of her eyes but wouldn’t fall from her lashes.

  She’d come here – from where? – looking for something new, something better. So many people did. She was actually far luckier than a lot of those who ended up homeless and strung out on the street. Not that she was in the best of places, of course, but I had seen far worse. She had a good head on her shoulders, and had found a practical way she could get by. It was far from the ideal, but there were far worse options.

  Part of me wanted to keep asking questions – to pry into her background, her history, and get to know her better. The rest of me knew that was a really, really bad idea.

  This was just fucking.

  “You should see The Bean,” I finally said as I turned to go back inside.

  There was just no way she could live in Chicago without seeing The Bean.

  Chapter 9 – Evening Interlude

  “There’s something in the back for you.”

  I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but I was really looking forward to tonight. Reservations were made, certain people expecting us, and I even suited up, which I didn’t do often. I was decked out in a pinstripe suit, white button-down, dark purple tie, and dress shoes. I wasn’t wearing any socks – a habit I picked up from my Italian co-workers. I had planned for tonight far more than I had for any
thing that didn’t involve my Barrett and a hole in someone’s head.

  Bridgett glanced at me over the hood of the car with suspicion in her eyes. She’d been giving me the same look since I picked her up, and she asked why I was all dressed up. She leaned back a bit and looked at the package on the back seat of the car before she looked up at me again.

  “Get it,” I said with a nod, “but don’t open it until we get upstairs.”

  She pulled the box out from behind the seat and followed me up to my apartment.

  “I didn’t have you pegged as the gift-giving type,” Bridgett said as she sat down on the couch with the box in her hands.

  “Just open it,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

  Bridgett’s eyes opened wide as she stared into the box with the Armani name on the lid. The sleek dress inside of it was deep purple, matched my tie exactly, and had a black, wool shawl to go with it so she would stay warm. There was also a pair of black heels with straps that would go around her ankles. They weren’t too high, so she could still walk comfortably, but they were sexy as hell.

  “Put it all on,” I told her. “We’re going out to dinner.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am.”

  She looked back to the box and slowly pulled out the dress.

  “It looks like the right size,” she commented.

  “It is the right size,” I said.

  She looked up at me for a moment but didn’t say anything else. Her eyes went back to the dress and then the shawl below it.

  “This, too?” Bridgett asked as she held it up.

  “Of course,” I said. “That fucking rodent in Pennsylvania might have thought spring was coming, but he’s an idiot. It’s cold out there, and I don’t want you to freeze your ass off. I have plans for it later.”

  I raised my eyebrows at her, and she shook her head at me. Moving up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist.

  “I’m taking you for a night on the town – dinner, drinks, shopping – everything. You go get yourself ready.”

  I smacked her ass with the palm of my hand, and she shrieked as she ran to change in the bedroom. I leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from a bottle of flavored water, which didn’t taste too bad. Jonathan had been going on about them lately, so I had finally given them a shot. They were all full of vitamins instead of sugar, so they had to be better for you than a soda.

  Bridgett came out of the bedroom looking like she belonged on the television as a fucking fashion show celebrity. I had to admit that I had done a great job picking out the dress – it fit her perfectly – but the rest was all her. Round ass, long legs, face cleaned off of whore paint and just lightly made-up. She was all looks.

  “Beautiful.”

  She blushed.

  For dinner, we went to the restaurant on the other side of the little park behind my apartment building. It was a nice steak place, cozy and quiet enough that Bridgett didn’t seem to be overwhelmed or anything. Once we were done with our meal, I wrapped the shawl back around her shoulders and walked her out the front and over to Millennium Park.

  She started laughing immediately.

  “It is a giant bean!” she squealed.

  I couldn’t help but smile. I also couldn’t explain why I loved the sculpture. Sure, there were a lot of people who considered it more comical than artistic, but I thought it was absolutely brilliant.

  And shiny.

  I took a picture of our reflections in the polished silver with my phone before we walked back towards my building. I held her hand and helped her down the long staircase on the east side of the park, then across the sidewalk and into the parking garage.

  “We’re not going upstairs?” Bridgett asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. “We’re going to the Magnificent Mile.”

  I led her over to my parking areas but steered her away from the car she was used to being in.

  “This is your car?” Bridgett’s eyes widened as she examined the exterior of the Audi R8.

  “Shut up and get in,” I replied with a smile.

  It wasn’t quite warm enough to put the top down, but it was still a nicer ride than the Mazda for the kinds of places we were going. I drove in silence across the Michigan Avenue Bridge and up north towards all the best shops. Bridgett just stared out the window at the people going by, most of whom were looking over at us. Once I got to the general center of the area, I pulled off in front of a hotel and let the valet take the car.

  “Checking in, sir?”

  “No, just shopping,” I replied as I handed him some cash.

  “Very good, sir.”

  I took Bridgett’s hand again as she stepped out of the car and then escorted her across the street and up the sidewalk to one of the shops. I held out my hand to allow her to enter first.

  “Evan, what are you doing?”

  “Taking you shopping on the Magnificent Mile,” I informed her. “Once we’ve hit the highlights, we’ll have drinks at one of my favorite bars. It’s got a great view of Michigan Avenue.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she said quietly. “You aren’t going to buy anything here. The dress I can understand for the place we had dinner, but …”

  Her voice trailed off, and I just gave her a half smile as I grabbed her waist and shoved her through the revolving doors and into Tiffany and Co’s.

  The thing I found most noticeable about the store was just how sparkly everything was. It was like walking into a place full of tiny little disco balls – there were rainbows everywhere. I thought that chick who wrote about the sparkly vampires must have gotten the idea by standing in the Tiffany’s store and staring at the diamonds.

  I had a feeling Bridgett wasn’t going to just pick something out for herself, so I already had something in mind. I led her to the back where all the charms were kept.

  “Mister Arden?” A tall, lean blonde walked around the counter and held out her hand.

  “Hello,” I replied. I reached out and shook the salesperson’s hand. She smiled at Bridgett before leading us around to the back counter. She brought over a velvet box and opened it up as I watched Bridgett’s expression go from curiosity, to surprise, to bemusement.

  “That’s a gold bean, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is,” I said with a smile. “Rose gold with earrings to match.”

  The salesperson held Bridgett’s hand and slipped the gold chain around her wrist. The bracelet included a rose gold bean as well as a traditional Tiffany’s padlock charm.

  “Beautiful,” the salesperson said as she affixed the charm around Bridgett’s wrist. It jingled as she moved, and when she turned her wrist slightly, the charms sparkled in the store’s lights.

  “Evan…” Bridgett’s voice evaporated again, and her eyes started to brim over with tears.

  “Stop that,” I said quietly. I took my finger and placed it under her chin. “You deserve a night on the town after putting up with me for all that time when I was sick, and I’m going to make sure your night is perfect. This is just a little memento of the evening.”

  “It’s hardly a little thing,” she argued. “This is…”

  She glanced over at the salesperson, but she was now ringing up the bill and a bit out of earshot. Bridgett lowered her voice anyway.

  “This is more than you would pay for me for a whole week,” she said.

  “So?”

  I ignored her remaining protests, took her by the hand, and led her back out onto the street. We stopped at a few more stores but mostly just window-shopped. I pointed out the window of the Armani place where I had acquired Bridgett’s dress – she hadn’t known Armani catered to women as well – but we didn’t go inside. I wasn’t in need of a new suit just yet and probably wouldn’t need one until Moretti’s daughter got hitched or something. Then I’d come get one.

  Ice cream at Ghirardelli’s Chocolate and a quick carriage ride down a few blocks to my favorite drinking establishment came next.


  The 676 Restaurant and Bar was just a block down from the famous Tiffany’s jewelry store and in the same building as the Omni Hotel. I helped Bridgett dodge the drunks and other pedestrians as we made our way into the building. The downstairs was your usual hotel stuff – front desk, concierge, bellhops – but upstairs there was a small restaurant and bar that mostly catered to the hotel’s guests.

  I wasn’t sure what was better – the food, the drinks, or the banter between the staff.

  “This place is…nice,” Bridgett said softly.

  “Good service, too,” I informed her. “They have the best martinis in the city. You like martinis, right?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  Her hesitation caused me to stop in front of the elevator and take her by the elbow.

  “It’s okay?” I asked. I had no idea why I was feeling suddenly hesitant. I hadn’t been to 676 for a while, but I was there enough in the past to be considered as much of a regular as anyone was. I’d never actually taken a girl up there with me, though. I’d taken a couple away – or at least as far as their hotel rooms upstairs – but never brought one in with me.

  “Whatever you like,” Bridgett responded.

  I scowled at her lack of answer, which seemed to make her smile. Her hand reached up and touched the side of my face.

  “It’s fine,” she said.

  I leaned over and placed my lips against hers.

  “You’ll love it,” I swore to her.

  I took her up the elevator to the fourth floor and held her hand as we walked into the bar area. I recognized almost everyone there immediately and was glad to see familiar faces. Michele was tending bar, and Patrick was managing. They were an interesting duo – and just watching the two of them interact was worth the price of the drinks.

  The drinks were damn good, too.

  “What do you want?” Bridgett said. “A beer or something?”

  “No,” I said, “definitely not. Do you like raspberries?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Hey, Michele!”

  The bartender smiled and waltzed over to me. Her dangling silver hoop earrings danced around on her shoulders as she moved, and her mahogany hair swung back and forth in a high ponytail. She had on basic black from head to toe, like pretty much every bartender there, and her smile earned her a lot of big tips.