"No," he said, "I don't suppose I can. Maybe we should make the experiment?"
"For the sake of verbal accuracy," she said, "I suppose we probably should."
She spun her body around so she was facing away from him. She then scooted backwards, until she was leaning backward against his chest. His arms went around her middle, coming together just below her ribs. Her stomach was unbelievably soft beneath her shirt. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder. She sighed contentedly. "This is nice," she said softly.
"Yes," he said, his mouth suddenly a little dry as he smelled the fresh aroma of her body, as he felt the silky softness of her hair caressing his cheek. "Very nice."
"So?" she asked. "What's the verdict? Am I cuddly?"
"Oh yes," he said. "It has been confirmed. We have cuddly here."
The light in her eyes took on a particular shine and he responded to it. He lowered his face and put his lips to hers. Their first kiss was soft and gentle. So was the second one. She cooed during the third one. During the fourth, his tongue probed out just a little and hers came out to meet it. After that, the rest of the kisses merged into one. Soon they were making out like teenagers in the movie theater. She eventually let him lay her down on the blanket and put himself on one elbow next to her. He rubbed her stomach as they kissed, feeling that rich softness of her abdomen, but when he tried to push his hand beneath her shirt to touch her bare flesh she stopped him.
"We're moving a little fast, Jake," she said somewhat breathlessly.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"It's okay," she said. "I liked your hand on me. It's just that... well... I'm an old fashioned girl. I don't like to jump into things like I'm sure you're used to doing."
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Don't be sorry," she said, disentangling herself from his embrace. "I like being together with you. We'll have time for moving things along later, won't we?"
"Will we?" he asked.
She leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. "Do you want to see me again?"
"As much as I can," he assured her.
"And I want to see you again," she said. "So we'll have lots of time for kissing and touching, and... you know... working our way onto other things, won't we?"
He agreed that they probably would. But there was one small problem. "What about your agent?" he asked. Jake knew from their phone conversations that Georgette had all but ordered Mindy to stay as far away from Jake as possible. Even a rumor that she was seeing a scrungy, coke-sniffing, womanizing, Satan worshipping rock musician would derail the sweet and wholesome image that was her trademark and could potentially cost her future parts in future movies.
"That does put a bit of a kink in things, doesn't it?" she pouted. "I wish we could date like everyone else in the world without having to worry about what the public thinks."
By "we", Jake knew, she didn't just mean the two of them, but all celebrities in general. "This is the life we choose," he told her. "And we have to play by its rules, don't we?"
She kissed him again, a soft, lingering kiss, breaking it just short of the tongues coming out. "We'll get together whenever we can," she said. "We'll talk on the phone and meet in secret like spies. And, most important, we'll deny everything if we get caught."
"Should we carry cyanide capsules with us too?" Jake asked.
She could have gotten angry at that comment but she didn't. Instead she gave him another kiss. "Maybe when we get to know each other better."
It was when they were about halfway back to her house, as the horses were working their way down one of the slopes, that she finally asked the question she had so far avoided posing. "Did you really snort cocaine out of a girl's... you know?"
He lied without even thinking about it. "No," he said. "That was Matt's gig. I just got carried along for the ride when the reporter wrote the article."
She nodded, seemingly relieved by his answer. She talked about that particular issue no more.
She dropped him off in the same place she had picked him up. They said their goodbyes and they clasped hands affectionately but they did not hug or kiss. There were too many potential eyes on them. When she drove off he stared after her, watching until she turned the corner and disappeared. He had a smile on his face and a lightness in his soul he hadn't felt in a long time. There was romance in his life, something that had been absent from it for a long time now. He wondered how Matt managed to live without such a thing. Was it because he'd never experienced it?
He pondered this thought as he walked back to his building. A different doorman was on duty when he went through the entryway but he had apparently been briefed on Jake's AWOL status.
"Mr. Kingsley," he said. "Where have you been? We were worried about you."
"We?" Jake asked.
"Us on the staff," he said. "It's not like you to disappear on foot like that."
"Yeah? Well you'll have to get used to it, I'm afraid. It's going to be happening a lot."
"But, Mr. Kingsley," he said. "How will..."
"Here's a thought," Jake said. "How about you and your colleagues do this thing my mom taught me... oh... about kindergarten age or so."
"What's that?"
"It's called minding your own business," Jake said. "It's real easy if you try."
Jake continued into the building and went directly to the elevators. He pushed the call button. While he was waiting for the car to arrive he could see the doorman was already on the phone.
The lines of communication worked quickly. When he walked into his condo three minutes later, Manny was standing inside the doorway, waiting for him. He had the phone already in his hands. "It's Mr. Acardio," he said, handing the phone to Jake.
Jake took it and put it to his ear. "Wassup, Maxie?" he asked.
"Jake!" Acardio barked. "Do you know what time it is?"
Jake looked at his watch. "It's four twenty-eight," he said. With that, he hung up the phone and handed it back to Manny. "Here you go," he told the manservant/spy. "Can you mix me up a rum and coke? I think I'd like a stiff drink to relax with after this most interesting day."
Manny's eyes were wide with shock. "Jake, you hung up on Mr. Acardio!" He said this in the same tone a Christian would use when describing a particularly grotesque blasphemy.
"Yep," Jake said. "I sure did. So, how about that drink?"
The phone began to ring again.
"You get the phone," Jake said. "I'll mix my own drink."
"Jake," Manny hissed. "You're behaving like a buffoon."
Jake ignored him and walked over to the bar. He took out a water glass and filled it with ice. Before he could even select his rum, Manny came in, holding out the phone to him again.
"Mr. Acardio insists on talking to you," he said.
Jake sighed. "Just a sec," he said. "Let me get my drink going first."
And despite Manny's frantic gestures and whispers, Jake went about the task of constructing the perfect rum and coke. He took out two bottles of rum, opened them, and smelled each one. He thought it over for a few seconds, smelled them again, and then chose the Jamaican import. He used a shot glass and carefully measured out three individual ounces of the rum, one by one. He poured each over the ice in his glass. He added coke from the sprayer installed in the bar, waited for the bubbles to settle, and then added some more. He stirred slowly and carefully with a stainless steel stirrer. He had a sip and decided it wasn't strong enough so he poured another half shot into the shot glass, poured that into his glass, and then spent a bit stirring again. He tasted it once more and then nodded his approval. Only then did he take the phone from Manny's hand and put it back to his ear.
He looked at his watch again. "It's four thirty-one now, Max," he said. "Did you know that there's a number you can call that's specifically dedicated to time-telling?"
Acardio was infuriated. "You watch how you talk to me, you ungrateful punk! How dare you hang up on me! You'd be nothing without me. Nothing! You'd still be playing for those banjo strumming hicks in that dreadful club in Heritage!"