Read The Shoes Come First: A Jennifer Cloud Novel Page 15

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  After dinner we walked hand in hand back to his apartment. We passed a tattoo parlor, several bars, and a sushi restaurant before we came to a stop in front of his apartment building.

  “Do you want to come up?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, feeling a little tipsy from the beers at dinner.

  Jake lived in one of the converted warehouses. It was a little more upscale due to the fact that it had a small reception area downstairs with a guard and a doorman. A few rich and famous young people lived in Jake’s building. It was a mix of wealth and upwardly mobile executives trying to downplay their stuffed suits by living in an uber-cool neighborhood. I had run into a pro hockey player on the elevator one day, and I knew a relative of Ross Perot lived in the penthouse. Jake’s grandma Pearl had left him a small inheritance when she died—enough to allow Jake to pursue his dreams of becoming a CIA agent while living like a poor James Bond. Jake got stocks and bonds; I got an outhouse. Go figure.

  “Good evening, Mr. McCoy,” said the doorman, tipping his hat to me.

  “Hey, Mike, how are the Cowboys doing tonight?”

  “Pretty good, beating the Giants twenty-one to seven. It’s the third quarter.” He pointed to an earbud he had hidden in his left ear.

  “I’ll catch it upstairs, thanks,” Jake replied as we entered the elevator.

  Jake’s apartment was more of a New York–style loft. It was open and airy. Since it used to be a warehouse, the windows were big and tented open. He had huge pieces of art decorating the walls. My favorite hung over his brown leather sofa. It was a picture of the Beatles walking across Abbey Road. I sank down in the soft leather and propped my feet up on the rustic wood coffee table. Everywhere you looked, Jake’s apartment shouted comfortable. All he needed was a big hound dog lounging around to complete the ambiance.

  “Jake, you need a dog,” I called to him from the sofa.

  “I told you before, Jen, no pets,” he said as he came into the room carrying two beers. Mine was poured conveniently in a glass.

  “I think you are trying to get me drunk,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said, handing me the glass.

  “Well, maaaybe I’m trying to get you drunk so you will let me buy you a dog.”

  “I can’t have a pet,” Jake said, looking at me sternly. “I didn’t want to tell you since you were already having such a terrible day, but I am leaving in the morning. Jen, I am going overseas.”

  “Overseas!” I sat up quickly, spilling my beer down the front of my sweater. Another reason I preferred drinking from the bottle. “Damn, that’s cold,” I said, placing my hand on my chest and pulling my sweater away from my skin. “Overseas, like Europe?”

  “No,” he said, handing me a towel he had retrieved from the kitchen. “I can’t tell you where I will be, but I am getting a top-secret assignment.”

  I dabbed at the wet spot on the front of my sweater. “Jake, are you going somewhere dangerous?”

  “Not really. I am going to be in charge of a top-secret project that needs… sort of a babysitter.”

  “As long as you are the good guy and you aren’t going into a war zone, I guess I’m OK with that, but I will miss you,” I said as I took a drink of the remnants of my beer.

  “Me too,” he said. Removing the beer from my hand, he pulled me to my feet and gave me a long, deep kiss.

  “Your sweater is all wet,” he said, running his lips along the nape of my neck.

  “I should probably take it off.”

  He agreed, pulling my sweater over my head.

  “Well, since I’m the good guy…” And he unhooked my bra with a flick of his finger. I leaned into his arms, wrapping my legs around his middle, and he walked me into the bedroom with his lips pressed to mine.