“And then if it is at all possible can you get lunch reservations at Daniel for tomorrow?”
Amelia throws this over her shoulder to Charlotte as she steps in the elevator of the Pierre Hotel, Charlotte nodding and struggling to hold onto all of Amelia’s bags as she follows her inside.
“Ugh what a horrendous day,” Amelia groans with a sigh, slouching back against the railing as the elevator begins it’s ascent.
Charlotte can only agree. Four business meetings before lunch, a disaster with the florist in the early afternoon, and then some shopping therapy has left Charlotte feeling exhausted and thanking God it is Friday. She watches Amelia slowly rub her temples for a moment before turning her attention to the floor indicator.
“Who are we meeting here?” Charlotte asks offhandedly, turning her head to her shoulder, fighting back a yawn.
Amelia blinks at her. “No one. I live here.”
Charlotte looks at her, a bewildered expression covering her face. Amelia lives here? She’s surprised but still finds it completely fitting. Upon entry to the lobby Charlotte had felt instantly resized, the great round lobby with its blue sky ceiling and crushed velvet-covered chairs cozy and inviting although the patrons were not. The elevator continues to climb and Charlotte glances at the floor panel finding the penthouse button lit. Of course.
The doors finally open to a white marble floored lobby of sorts, the heavy oak doors in front of them large and somewhat foreboding. Amelia strides forward, pushing the door open and letting herself in. Charlotte follows, mouth slightly agape instantly awed by the sight that greets her.
The foyer is nothing more than a mass of black steps climbing high to a small landing where the stairs split and disappear into the ceiling. Rooms seem to hide behind the grand staircase, hallways slinking back into the recesses of the building, holding little pieces of Amelia’s life.
Charlotte finds it strange being in Amelia’s home. Amelia sleeps here, eats here, bathes here. All the normal things people do when they’re at home. In that moment, Charlotte finds herself guilty of something Amelia does everyday to her. She has forgotten that Amelia is an actual living, breathing human being. Charlotte had gotten herself so caught up in the business that is Amelia Domineck and had almost forgotten that she is first and foremost a woman just like herself.
“Good she’s still here,” Amelia mutters to herself, checking her watch. She looks up at Charlotte. “I need to talk to the maid about the mess she made of my Valentino gown.”
Okay maybe not just like herself.
“And Justin’s home,” Amelia says with a sigh, rolling her eyes and its then that Charlotte hears the soft tinkling of piano keys, the sound seeming to come from heaven. “And playing that god forsaken piano. I swear I’d get rid of it if it hadn’t been a gift from Sting.”
Amelia huffs, plucking her gloves from her long fingers, dropping them and her coat onto a small French arm chair next to the door. Charlotte shifts from one foot to the other, wiggling her fingers around the shopping bag handles, trying to alleviate some of the pressure while waiting for instructions.
“I’m going to find that maid,” Amelia says walking briskly around the staircase, her stilettos tapping smartly on the wooden floor. “Charlotte, go upstairs and tell Justin to stop with the racket please. I have a headache.”
“Um…okay,” Charlotte says uneasily as Amelia disappears into the recesses of the house.
Charlotte sets the bags on the floor, sighing in relief as she curls and uncurls her arm, her muscles screaming in protest. She takes a cautious step onto the staircase, biting her lip and eyeing the hallway Amelia just disappeared through. Was this a trick? Ever since lunch earlier that week Charlotte had been especially careful around Justin, weary that maybe Amelia was testing her as well. It was entirely possible. Justin did flirt with her, but no more than he did with anyone else. But Charlotte was relatively sure none of that mattered to Amelia, considering her boss was just interested in testing her fiancé. It didn’t really matter who the bait was.
She shook her head, trying to clear it as she climbed the stairs and if she hadn’t been out of breath already from the steep climb, the grandeur of the room would have stolen it from her lungs upon sight. Charlotte gazes around feeling almost as if she should genuflect, the twenty foot high rounded ceiling reminiscent of a cathedral, the blond oak floors gleaming like rays of light. French doors stretch from floor to ceiling overlooking the sunset on Central Park, sconce lighting and a magnificent chandelier illuminating the room.
The room is the size of a grand ballroom and Charlotte lets her mouth hang open as she takes in the quiet opulence of the space. It has the feel of a quiet French château on steroids. Her eyes travel around the room, roving over small settees and overstuffed chairs, heavy mahogany coffee tables and delicate floor lamps. She’s startled when her gaze falls on the piano, so caught up in her astonishment she had almost forgotten anyone else was there.
Justin is seated at the grand piano, his black suit jacket discarded on one of the nearby chairs, the sleeves of his sea blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He sways gently to the music he’s making, his eyes closed, letting the rolling notes of the piano move his body. She thinks she recognizes the song, but she can’t quite place it, stepping forward as she tries to decipher the tune.
His eyes open and she freezes where she stands, a deer caught in the headlights. He grins widely at her, his fingers still dancing across the keys.
“Hey Charlotte!” he beams jovially and she smiles at him uncertainly. He’s always so happy to see her, or so it seems. Such a charmer
“Hi,” she replies shyly and he tugs his head back, beckoning her closer as his song changes to something slow and pulsing and Charlotte would know that melody anywhere.
“You like this song,” he asks smiling knowingly and that’s when Charlotte realizes she’s grinning like a fool as she rushes towards him.
“Yeah, its one of my favorites!” Charlotte exclaims, bobbing her head to the beat that is so engrained in her.
It reminds her of crisp autumn days, coming home from school to find her father asleep in the armchair, soot smudged across his nose and the record player spinning. It reminds her of summer nights, sitting on the front porch of their Pennsylvania farm house, listening to the crickets sing and the radio crackle out this melody. It reminds her of her brothers playing football in the yard. It reminds her of her parents dancing in the living room. It reminds her of home. A dull ache settles in her chest at the remembrance, a pang of longing for her childhood home, for the lost years of her youth.
“Remember when the days were long / And rolled beneath a deep blue sky / Didn’t have a care in the world / With mommy and daddy standing by…”
Charlotte’s breath catches in her throat as his voice rings out into the large room, his shoulders shimmying just slightly as his long fingers glide across the keys. He grins at her as he sings and he’s just genuinely happy to have someone listen. He hasn’t performed in a long time and he finds, as he always does when it happens, he’s missed it, a tension in his chest lifting and he’s never more free than he is right now at this piano with just this one person listening to him sing.
“…Offer up your best defense / But this is the eeeeeeeeeeeend / This is the eeeeeeeeeeeeeeend of the innocence.”
He stops there, just after the end of the first chorus, fearing he’ll never stop if he goes on, the piano dying away as his hands pull back. He opens his eyes to find Charlotte staring at him in awe, her green eyes dancing happily and he can’t remember the last time someone has looked at him that way. He’s performed in front of thousands, millions if you count television audiences, but none of that compares to right now and the look on Charlotte’s face.
He smiles at her and she blinks, shaking her head as if to clear it and tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, an awkward silence stretching out between them.
“Hey, have you ever heard this one?” Justin asks, swallowing hard and shaking his head, cutting the awkwardness with a slow, deep melody.
Charlotte screws up her face and listens hard. “No…I don’t think so,” she resigns after a moment and he grins.
“Hush hush, sweet Charlotte / Charlotte, don't you cry / Hush hush, sweet Charlotte / He'll love you till he dies”
Charlotte gasps at him, blushing furiously and he laughs, his voice stopping but his fingers still coax the melody out of the instrument, grinning up at her.
“I didn’t even know there was a song with my name in it,” Charlotte confesses, her cheeks burning and Justin grins, nodding.
“Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte by Patti Page...” he says sighing, “who's other numbers also include…” he trails and the tune turns jaunty and playful, “How much is that dooooooggy in the window,” He barks playfully and Charlotte has to cover her mouth to suppress her giggles, “the one with the waaaaaaggly taaaaaaaaail”
“Justin what on earth are you doing?”
Its Amelia’s voice, annoyed yet slightly amused and the music stops, Justin’s hands jumping back from the keys and he smiles at his fiancé. She crosses her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him and Charlotte watches his neck redden slightly. He stands from his place at the piano and pads over to her opening his arms to engulf her in an embrace. Amelia allows him to kiss her cheek, her fingertips running down his forearms.
“Charlotte you can go now,” she says, frowning as she unrolls one of Justin’s sleeves. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Okay, see you Monday,” Charlotte replies, heaving a small sigh of relief that her day is finally over and moving towards the staircase.
“Nice talking to you, Charlotte,” Justin adds and Charlotte looks back, finding him grinning at her and she gives him a small smile in return before disappearing down the stairs
“What do you say we stay in tonight?” Amelia asks, buttoning Justin’s cuff and he gives her a bewildered look.
“It’s Friday night,” he says, allowing her to unroll his other sleeve and button the cuff for him. “You feelin’ okay babe? You weren’t abducted by aliens were you?” His eyes grow large, his voice alarmed, “You’re not a pod person are you?”
“Oh stop,” Amelia scoffs, reaching to straighten his tie
“Quick, what’s my nickname?!” Justin exclaims grabbing onto her biceps in mock panic.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Amelia mutters, rolling her eyes.
“Wrong!” Justin exclaims then screws up his face, pondering. “That’d be a pretty ambitious nickname.”
“Oh shut up.”
Justin grins cheekily. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his face softening, reaching up to hook his finger under her chin. “You always wanna go out on Friday nights.”
“And you never wanna go out on Friday nights,” Amelia snaps and Justin tenses, waiting for her to either blow up or move on “Ugh I’m just exhausted,” Amelia sighs, her eyes closing and Justin nods, pulling her against his chest, swaying her gently.
“We can stay in,” he says softly, his fingers smoothing against her hair. “Movie night?”
“That would be great,” Amelia sighs and he pulls back grinning
“Casablanca?” Justin asks bouncing excitedly. That’s just what he needs, not the fans, or the lights, or the music. Just a night with Bogey and his girl.
“Uh I was thinking The English Patient,” Amelia replies and Justin’s heart drops a little but he nods, smiling at her.
“You go change. I’ll get the movie set up,” he says, pecking her forehead and she pats his chest turning towards their bedroom. “Hey I’ll even let you wear one of my old t-shirts,” he hollers by way of suggestion and she doesn’t even turn around, just gives him a short wave of acknowledgement.
Justin sighs, trudging down the steps and snaking back around the staircase toward the entertainment room. Flicking on the lights, he grabs the remote trying to remember all the buttons it takes to turn the damn thing on. Best of the best, that’s what Amelia always has to have. God forbid it be convenient. He presses a few buttons, furrowing his brow and his head snaps up when he hears a click and the large flat-screen glows blue.
“Okay now for the DVD player,” he mutters to himself, pressing another button and the lights dim. He growls in frustration.
“Having trouble?”
Its Amelia’s voice from the doorway and he turns to find her in cream silk pajamas, a tiny polo player embroidered on the breast pocket. He frowns.
“I said you could wear one of my shirts,” he says, hoping she’ll get his hint but she merely blinks at him.
“Why on earth would I do that?” she asks taking the remote from his hands. “I have pajamas.” Justin sighs. “Go change. I’ll set up the movie.” She smirks at him.
He gives her a rueful grin before pinching her ass, receiving a yelp in return and darting out of the room before she can smack him. He returns minutes later in a thin t-shirt and pajama pants, finding Amelia curled up on one of the large couches, the previews playing. Justin bites his lip, sneaking up and then bounding over the back of the couch, Amelia screeching loudly in surprise as he plops down next to her. He dissolves into laughter and Amelia scoffs smacking his shoulder.
“You scared me to death!” she exclaims as he settles next to her, leaning against her slightly.
“As was my plan,” he replies, his arms going around her waist as he nuzzles at her neck and she squirms, reaching for the remote.
“You’re an ass,” she responds, pressing play and he grins cheekily at her, nibbling at her ear.
“You love it,” he says sighing, slouching down and resting his cheek against her bicep as the movie starts.
“I thought you were going to get rid of those pants,” Amelia says and Justin looks down at himself, brushing his hands on the balled up cotton on his thigh.
“I like these pants,” he replies.
“You have that nice silk set my mother got you for Christmas and you run around in that threadbare cotton,” Amelia sighs and Justin nuzzles her arm.
“I like these,” he says again, one large hand smoothing across her stomach and Amelia looks at him, a smirk pulling at her lips.
“Oh and you don’t like the ones my mother got you?”
Justin tenses, looking up at her and finding her eyebrow lifted, a questioning look on her face. He swallows hard.
“Um…I do! I do like them I just…like these better,” he replies, cringing slightly, waiting for her reaction.
She turns back to the television. “I like the silk ones.”
“Yes, dear,” he replies, settling against her again, struggling to get comfortable, his head resting against Amelia’s arm. “Hey babe?” he questions, his hand running down her thigh.
“Yes?” she replies, watching his hand out of the corner of her eye.
“Scratch my head,” he says, sliding all the way down so that his head lays in her lap, his feet dangling off the end of the couch.
Amelia sighs, irritated as her hand falls to his head, long nails scraping against his scalp soothingly. He sighs, eyes closing as he turns his face into her stomach.
“Your hair is getting long,” Amelia says off handedly. “You should have Felicity make you an appointment.”
“I can shave it myself, babe,” he replies, his hand coming up and letting his fingers brush the underside of her forearm as her hand moves over the short bristles of his hair
“Yes but then you get hair all over the bathroom,” Amelia chides, her fingers tugging on the short strands.
“I was thinking of letting it grow a little bit anyway,” he says, kissing her lower stomach softly and allowing his eyes to close as her nails scrape over the sweet spot on his crown.
Amelia’s hand stops. “Why? I like it short.”
Justin doesn’t open his eyes, hoping her fingers will start again. “Just something different,” he says, shrugging as he presses his lips to her stomach again.
“Do you wanna have sex?” Amelia asks suddenly and Justin’s eyes fly open, looking up at her slightly bewildered.
“Huh?”
“You’re all over me,” Amelia replies, a slight edge in her voice but her face is a mask. “I assume you wanna have sex?”
This is a dangerous question. Justin watches her for a moment but can’t discern her features. He hates when she does this to him. Poses a question that has a fifty-fifty shot of pissing her off. If he says yes then he’s an insensitive ass who only wants to get laid. If he says no, and that’s the wrong answer, then he has to sit through a forty minute conversation on why he doesn’t want to have sex. He takes a deep breath.
“I was just cuddling you, babe,” he says softly, hoping the smooth caress of his voice will calm her if need be. “You don’t wanna cuddle?” He gives her a charming smile and waits for her reaction, his stomach tight.
She stares down at him for three long seconds before cracking a smile and shaking her head. “Okay sometimes I really think you’re the woman in this relationship.”
Justin sighs in relief, chuckling slightly as he rolls so he’s facing the television, his cheek resting on Amelia’s warm thighs. Crisis averted. His stomach uncoils slightly and he fights the disappointed sound in his throat when her hand slides from his head to rest on his shoulder, feeling her settle in to watch the movie. His cheek rubs against the cool silk of her pajamas, wishing it was the smooth skin of her bare legs but he’s happy to just be here with her. Just him and her watching a movie. He loves her. He really does. Despite all she puts him through. He loves her.
