The Allure of Julian Lefray

  Holy fucking shit.

  The scene we stepped into was straight out of 50 Shades of Grey - Geriatric Edition.

  “JESUS!” Jo cried, letting her cup slip from her hand.

  I reached out for it just before it hit the floor, but Jack and Coke still spilled out onto my shirt and jeans. I glanced up and blinked to confirm that my eyes hadn’t betrayed me. Nope. It was real and it was too late to leave unnoticed. We were already in the doorway and half a dozen people were staring up at us…

  Half a dozen naked, old people. So very naked, and so very, very old.

  Candles were lit around the room. Hard rock music played in the background. A woman dressed as a dominatrix cracked a cheap whip in the corner and I flinched as if it were about to hit me. Two old people were going at it on the couch while others stood around and watched. I saw old, flat butt cheeks, and scores of boobs that had been around for the terms of over a dozen different presidents.

  “Julian,” Josephine whispered. “Am I dreaming?”

  I reached out for her hand. “No. We are definitely in the middle of an old person swinger’s party right now.”

  “Josephine,” Holly called from across the room. “Come on in, we don’t bite!”

  Of course you don’t bite, most of you don’t even have teeth.

  “I…um, I think I’m. Have to go. Yeah, actually.”

  Her words came out as a jumbled mess as her brain short-circuited.

  I gripped her hand, ready to drag her out of the apartment, and then Barney held up her tray of cupcakes. He was sitting on the couch with the tray on his lap.

  “These are great!” he said, holding one up before he shoved half of it into his mouth.

  The fact that he was completely naked as he stuffed Josephine’s vanilla cupcakes into his mouth only made the spectacle that much harder to stomach. I was seconds away from laughing until I either pissed my pants or blacked out from shock.

  “I’m so glad you…” Josephine murmured with a shaky voice. “I’m just going to um…”

  She let her sentence fade out as she stared up at the ceiling, pretending to study the popcorn paint as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

  “We need to back up slowly…”

  “Slow and steady,” Josephine whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

  All eyes were on us. We were expected to join in. Holy hell. Josephine’s landlady had invited her to a swaps party. What the hell has this world come to?

  I saw the dominatrix wind up her whip out of the corner of my eye and I knew she’d provide a welcome distraction in a matter of seconds.

  “On the count of three, we’re going to make a run for it,” I whispered.

  “Holly! Come lick this vanilla icing off me!” Barney said, rubbing Josephine’s cupcakes all over his naked chest. Josephine whimpered under her breath and I lost it. I couldn’t hold in my laughter any more.

  The dominatrix cracked her whip and I pulled Josephine back through the hallway, losing myself to a fit of laughter. We broke into a run and Josephine cried out after me.

  “You didn’t count down!” she yelled.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just run!”

  We ran out of her landlady’s apartment and bolted down the stairs. I held onto the banister with one hand and gripped Josephine’s hand with the other. We made it back to her apartment in record time. She unlocked the door, I shoved it open, and we both pushed through at the same time.

  She flipped the lock and we leaned against the door with a heavy thud. We stood there catching our breath and she slid her gaze to me. I turned to find her smiling from ear to ear as her chest rose and fell. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide with wonder. I’d never seen her look as beautiful as she did right then.

  “So that’s why she wanted to know if you would be having male visitors,” I said.

  I laughed and squeezed her hand. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Josephine

  I’d been given one night off in the middle of my NYFW job, and I’d spent it hanging out with naked old people. Not only that, I’d dragged Julian along with me. There wasn’t enough eye bleach in the world to clear the memories of that night from my brain, and I knew I had to make it up to Julian somehow.

  “I need you to read through that contract the realtor sent over last night,” Julian instructed from his perch at his hotel room’s dining table on Monday morning. Papers were scattered out around him and we were knee deep into our work for the day. We’d yet to discuss Saturday night and I had no clue how to bring up the subject.

  Maybe I could apologize with a tasteful ice cream cake. “Sorry for subjecting you to old lady boobs. Your best friend, Jo.”

  “Jo?” he asked.

  I glanced up and racked my brain for the task he’d just asked me to do. Oh yes, the contract.

  “I read it this morning and highlighted the sections I think you should take a look at,” I answered.

  “Good.” He nodded, typing away. “And we have a meeting with the general contractor for Lorena’s store tomorrow.”

  I nodded. I may have subjected him to a terrible party, but I was a kickass personal assistant.

  “I’ve scheduled a car to pick us up at 9:00 AM. We’ll be meeting the contractor at a coffee shop in Soho.”

  “And the email Lorena sent over last night?” he asked, peering at me over the top of his laptop.

  I smiled. “I replied first thing this morning.”

  “Looks like you’re on top of your game, Keller,” he said with a seductive smile.

  I stared at him for a moment before averting my gaze and staring back down at my keyboard. Hey vagina, let’s focus on other things right now. Like, oh I don’t know, WORK. It was his fault though. Perhaps I should have added one more rule the other night: no smiling with dimples. Frowning and flat smiles were allowed. Anything more and I couldn’t be held accountable for my hands or my lady bits.

  “Did you see anyone interesting leaving your landlady’s apartment yesterday morning?” Julian asked, barely masking his amusement at my ridiculous life.

  I closed my eyes and answered. “No, but Holly left my cupcake platter outside my door with a note that said ‘Thanks for the special treat’. She had washed the dish, but I don’t think it will ever be truly clean.”

  He choked on his coffee.

  “Never,” he agreed.

  He stood up to grab a napkin and I plucked my mug from the coffee table for him to refill while he was up. (We’d established this system early on: if one of us got up, that person was responsible for coffee refill duties. No ifs, ands, or buts.) I used the moment to study him while he was preoccupied; those moments were part of my routine. While he was typing an email or making a phone call, I always took a moment to covertly watch him. He always had a warm complexion, but his tan had deepened from his early morning runs. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and the subtle veins on his forearm were enough to make me swoon. There was something about a guy with strong, defined arms. Or maybe it was just Julian.

  “You have to move,” he said, turning back to flash a dimpled smile at me.

  For a second, I didn’t understand what he meant. Like move from his couch? Dammit, this is why I shouldn’t be checking him out at work.

  “Out of your apartment,” he clarified when I didn’t immediately reply.

  Ah, duh.

  “Believe me, I wish I could. Unfortunately, I can’t find a place that’s cheaper than my current lease unless I move to New Jersey or something.”

  Julian frowned over the coffee cup, and I wondered what he was thinking.

  “Don’t I pay you enough here?”

  I swallowed and thought of how best to reply. Julian knew nothing about the debt I was swimming in. Sure, this job was decent, but between New York City rent, groceries, college loans, and the damn credit cards I’d used to purchase books and stuff in college, I’d need a lot more than
an executive assistant salary to pay it all off. I didn’t want Julian to know about my money struggles. It wasn’t his concern, and I doubted he’d be able to understand. He came from old money and had made plenty on his own. I didn’t want him to look at me any differently.

  “More than I’d make breakdancing on subway platforms,” I quipped with a fake smile.

  Julian laughed and handed me back my mug full of coffee.

  “You could always move in here,” Julian said, motioning to the master bedroom just off the suite’s living room.

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s the one line you get today. Shock. Collar.”

  He rubbed his neck with a feigned grimace. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just an offer. I’m a noble guy like that.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Like when I rescued you from a swinger’s party.”

  I laughed and covered my eyes, willing away the images that flashed through my mind.

  “Let’s make a blood pact to never speak about it ever again.”

  “Okay, but only after we tell Dean about it tonight.”

  I glanced up and met his eye. “Tonight?”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “Didn’t I mention that we’re supposed to get drinks with him tonight? I cancelled on him for that party we agreed to never discuss again.”

  I ran through my mind, trying to recall any mention of it. The only thing on my schedule for the day was work, work, and more work. From 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM I was with Julian, and then I had to run across town to Lincoln Center for a NYFW shift from 5:30 to 9:00 PM.

  “I don’t think you ever told me about it.”

  He shrugged. “Well, we’re heading over to The Merchant at nine o’clock. Are you interested in joining?”

  I should have said no. God knew I’d be exhausted after my shift at Lincoln Center, but the idea of Julian and Dean alone in a bar together was enough to convince me. The two of them would attract women like moths to a flame, and even though he and I couldn’t date, it didn’t mean I wanted women flirting with him at the bar. No, with me there as a buffer, he’d have a harder time picking up women. I’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Josephine

  As soon as I finished up at Lincoln Center, I found the first available bathroom and stood in front of the dimly lit mirror. My appearance was cringe-worthy. If I asked the mirror who it considered to be the fairest of them all, it’d reply with, “Damn girl, it ain’t you. You’re a hot mess.”

  I pulled off my NYFW cap and inspected the rat’s nest on top of my head. I’d attempted to pull it back in a loose knot during my shift, just to get it off of my face. Somehow 90% of the strands were now out of the ponytail and sticking up around my head. My mascara was smudged under my eyes and I had some sort of black substance streaked across my left cheek.

  Hey God, if you’re up there, this would be a great time for you to work some miracles. Like maybe you could turn this bar of soap into a curling iron.

  God’s answering machine must have been full or something because the soap didn’t change and I was left with what little makeup I’d stuffed into my purse in recent months. In total, I had a small black comb, black eyeliner, and red lipstick. I pulled my ponytail out and ran the comb through my hair. Not bad, not bad. Starting to look more like a human. Next, I used a tissue to dab away the mascara beneath my eyes and the black streak across my cheek. I used the black eyeliner to rim the edges of each eye and thanked my lucky stars that my complexion was clear and even on its own. I coated my lips in red lipstick and then braided my hair so that it lay over my shoulder. In a matter of five minutes, I’d gone from a 1.5 to at least a solid 5.

  It’d have to do.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse as I walked through Lincoln Center to the front entrance to catch a cab. I had a few text messages from Lily waiting for me that I’d check later, and Julian had texted me to let me know he and Dean were at the bar; the final text from my mom was the one to catch me off guard. My mom usually preferred to call and leave me voicemails. They were always short and sweet, and had a way of feeling like a dagger to my heart. I opened the text and braced myself for whatever stones and arrows she was wielding that day.

  Mom: Josephine, your father’s 60th birthday is in two weeks and he’d really like you to come in town for it. I know that you have a busy life in New York, so I don’t expect you to stay for long. Maybe you could just come for the weekend?

  Ever since my mom had mentioned my dad’s birthday, the guilt of knowing I’d be missing it had started to eat away at me. I thought about it as I lay awake at night, trying to figure out a way to get down there to visit him. I didn’t want to miss his birthday, but I’d yet to figure out how it would be possible. After next week, my temporary job at NYFW would be over, which meant I’d need to find another job to help make ends meet. Not to mention, Lorena was getting out of rehab very soon and I had no clue what she planned on doing with my position once she was back at work. Julian had hired me, not her. Would she need an assistant? Would she want it to be me?

  If not, it meant I’d be completely unemployed in less than a week.

  Perfect.

  I was in the midst of some major changes, which meant that I should have been saving every single penny that came my way, not attempting to travel across the country for a weekend getaway. Unfortunately, I didn’t think my mother saw it that way. The situation was cut and dried for her: be there for your father’s 60th birthday or let him down. Simple as pie. Southern peach cobbler.

  I headed toward the nearest subway entrance and rang Lily, praying she’d answer.

  “JOSIE. Finally!” she screamed into the phone once the call connected.

  I hadn’t been expecting such an exuberant greeting.

  “Hey Lil. What’s up?”

  She sighed, exasperated by my lack of enthusiasm. “Uh, clearly you have not read the texts I’ve been sending you.”

  I cringed. “No, sorry. I was at work. Why?”

  “Guess who just put in her two weeks’ notice at work?”

  I stopped walking midway between steps so that the person walking behind me completely knocked into me. I didn’t even flinch when they cursed at me and told me to get out of the way. Who the hell cared? I was in complete shock as I tried to process the fact that MY BEST FRIEND WAS MOVING TO NEW YORK.

  “Is this a joke right now? So help me god, do you realize how much I’ll kill you if this is a joke?”

  Lily laughed. “This is not a drill, my friend. This is happening. I’m about to purchase a Greyhound ticket and everything.”

  “Lily, you just completely saved the day!”

  Yes. Yes. Yes. Things would work out. If Lily was moving to New York, that meant she’d be able to cover half of the rent. I’d have way less expenses when she moved to town and maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to have my peach cobbler and eat it too.

  In two weeks’ time, I’d head down to Texas to visit my parents and then ride back on the bus with Lily. I’d take her around and show her everything I knew. We’d hit the town together and I’d instruct her on which subway lines to avoid if she didn’t want to step in a puddle of urine, which street vendors had the saltiest soft pretzels, and which apartments to avoid if she didn’t want to stumble upon a random swinger’s party. I could hardly wait.

  “We have so much to plan, Lil,” I said, unable to contain the giant smile spreading across my face.

  She laughed. “Yeah, starting with how the hell we’re going to share that damn futon.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Julian

  It wasn’t a big deal that Josephine was late for drinks. I didn’t watch the door of Dean’s bar like she was going to stumble in any minute and I definitely didn’t hold my breath every time a brunette stepped through the doorway.

  Those would be the actions of a man in love. Me? I was just a regular guy having regular drinks with a regular friend.

  “You look paranoid. Do you need another drink?” Dean
asked, drawing my attention back to our table.

  I held up my scotch, still half full.

  He smirked and shook his head.

  “Are we expecting someone else?”

  “Jo,” I answered.

  “Ah, the lovely Josephine.”

  I glared at him over the rim of my scotch.

  “I thought this was supposed to be guys’ night,” Dean said, swirling his glass on top of the teak tabletop.

  “She’s sorta like one of the guys.”

  He narrowed his eyes, clearly calling bullshit on me. “I’m fairly sure the double Ds you’re so infatuated with make that the most asinine comment I’ve ever heard.”

  I shook my head and took another sip of scotch. Agreeing to drinks with Dean had been a bad idea. He loved calling me on my shit, even when I preferred to brush everything under the rug. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. My mother must have had fifty rugs in her palatial townhouse, all with secrets and lies shoved so far beneath that they would never see the light of day again.

  “Yeah, well, tonight she’s just a friend,” I said, putting the cork in the subject.

  He nodded slowly, eyeing me with poorly veiled skepticism.

  “Have you thought about what you’ll do after your sister gets released? Will you still help her with the company?” he asked, moving the conversation on to another subject I hardly wanted to think about, much less discuss.

  “I’m not sure. We’re right in the beginning stages of building her store. I might stick around for that and then see what other investment opportunities come my way.”

  “In Boston?”

  I stared down at my drink and shrugged.

  “Well if you’re thinking of staying in New York long term, I have a few projects I’d love your help on. I’ve been wanting to expand on a restaurant idea, but I need a partner before I even consider it.”

  My brows perked up at the idea. Would I be willing to extend my stay in New York to hang around and see what sort of trouble Dean and I could get ourselves into? The idea sounded pretty tempting.