The Devil in Apartment 13 Page 7

  Hmm, that’s an unusual text for her. Usually she’d say why. She immediately dialed her up.

  “Hey, Fiona, what’s up?” Vivian sat back and crossed her legs, enjoying the soft jazz music the driver played.

  “I went to the doctor… and uh… how do I say this?”

  “You’re pregnant?!”

  “Girl, no! Don’t even speak that into existence. You know I don’t want any kids!”

  “I’ve been trying to be an aunt so I don’t have to have any either right now but you just won’t do right!” Vivian teased. “All right then, what is it?” She was met with a wall of silence. “Fiona, if you don’t come on! You told me to call you. Don’t leave me in suspense like this.” Resituating herself, she took notice of a guy on the sidewalk in front of a fruit stand buying some lemons. I need to go shopping, too… Maybe tomorrow. Low on a few things… “Are you going to speak or not? Got me over here thinking about my grocery list as you remain quiet!”

  “Well, I, uh—”

  “With your metabolic syndrome, the diabetes and everything, you’ve been going more to the doctors and naturalists, and I am thankful you’ve been more on top of your health. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Fiona. Wait… is something wrong?” Suddenly, Vivian’s heart grew heavy with worry. Fiona was laid back and far from an alarmist. She was known for her dry sense of humor and tenacity, but there was no denying the quiver in her sister’s tone and her being tongue-tied now certainly didn’t help ease Vivian’s concerns. None of this made sense.

  “Okay, here it is. Something really strange happened. I kept waking up and my clothes were fitting looser and looser. I literally couldn’t keep my pants around my waist anymore, Viv. My rings were looser, my neck was more defined. This went on for days. Like drastic weight loss. I didn’t feel sick though, or like anything was wrong. I went to the doctor and they ran some tests. Somehow… the diabetes is gone. Like, I never had it at all. Also, I am down twenty-eight pounds.”

  “That’s amazing! I am so proud of you, Fiona! I always knew that you—”

  “No… no, listen to me, Viv. I have not done anything different to cause this sudden weight loss! Now sure, I’ve been eating more salads, walking more instead of taking the elevator, things like that, but twenty-eight pounds in such a short period of time?!”

  “So… you think, you think something may be wrong that caused the sudden weight loss and they missed it?”

  “Well, that was my initial reaction, and the doctor’s, too, but they took blood tests and I got the results back today. Not only am I fine, Vivian, my cholesterol levels are perfect, my blood sugar levels are normal, my waistline is also down four inches… my measurements are actually down all over! It’s unbelievable. I’m… I’m crackin’ up right now, sis! Viv, I can’t believe it!”

  “We’ve gotta celebrate! Oh, my God! Well, whatever you’ve been doing, keep it up.”

  “I will! I am joining that gym now, too. In fact, I am going over tomorrow morning to sign up. I had every excuse in the world before, but not anymore. I want to maintain these results and continue on my health and weight loss journey. I kept putting it off, but that’s over.”

  Vivian patted her eyes as they pooled with tears of joy. She adored her big sister so much. Fiona was sarcastic and smart, beautiful and a tough cookie, but when she’d gotten sick a few years back and never recovered, everything went downhill. She’d tried a million diets yet nothing seemed to work after she was diagnosed with metabolic syndrome. But now, something amazing had happened. Her health had improved in the blink of an eye. Perhaps it had been improving the entire time but her sister simply hadn’t noticed. That was certainly more likely.

  “I am on my way to the store to get a couple bags of lettuce and spinach. I think I want to try juicing now, too,” Fiona said.

  “Whatever you decide, you have my full support.”

  “I know… Love you, Viv!”

  “I love you too. Look, I’m almost home. I have that date tonight I told you about so you probably—”

  “Va va voom! The rich Moroccan man! Yeeeah, baby!”

  Vivian rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, so, depending on how well it goes, I will call you either sooner or later.”

  “Ask if he has a brother.”

  “You’re married, Fiona!”

  Her sister burst out laughing. The tease. “All right, just make sure you text me though to let me know you’re alive either way. These guys out here are crazy!”

  “So true and will do! Chat with you later. Gotta go!” Vivian disconnected the call and sat quietly for the last two minutes of her ride in a complete state of giddiness.

  My sister’s health is amazing! My ex-boyfriend’s relationship with my cousin has imploded and I have to admit, I’m a little excited about my date tonight with Shahzad. Please don’t let his ass be a nutjob or disgusting, or a total fraud. I’m so sick of losers. I just want to be treated well tonight, share some laughs and have a good time. No strings attached; well, maybe something else could happen… Who knows? One thing I do know is that I don’t want this string of good luck to end…

  Shahzad reveled at the sight of his naked reflection in his bedroom mirror. He’d just gotten out of the shower and felt clean from his head to his toes. He slapped on a bit of cologne and turned his face from left to right, checking himself out.

  Not fucking bad…

  It had been a while since he’d been home in his own penthouse on 100 West 31st street.

  Apartment 13 was now vacated for the time being. Well, at least for the weekend. It was nothing more than a souped-up office, a place for him to linger and think, enjoy some alone time. Most importantly though, it allowed him to see and get to know Vivian up close. He’d even moved some of his favorite toys and things to make those temporary digs as comfortable as possible. She hadn’t lied; the place was a fucking dump. He was tossing money at it left and right to even get it up to code, so he hoped to with everything within him that she was worth it.

  He’d even taken it upon himself to have her place professionally cleaned and organized, lying about all residents receiving the same service. He picked up his floating emerald green cigar, took a puff, and placed it back into the atmosphere. T. Rex’s, ‘(Bang A Gong) Get It On’ played through his speakers, putting him in a mood. He’d been thinking about Nizar’s words all day. It became painfully clear that his original analysis of Vivian may not have been accurate. She was not a guileless, uncomplicated person. She cared about people and more than likely would not dare fall in love with someone who showed little to no consideration for others. Fuck people! I can’t think like that though… that’ll backfire.

  The thought of having concern for humankind’s welfare and being sensitive to others nauseated him, but did he have a choice? In an effort to show a softer side, he tapped into her unspoken wishes while she’d worked at the bar that fateful day…

  He’d heard her aspirations, her call for help, and she divulged many things to him, but some of the more personal issues she’d kept to herself. She’d been thinking about her friend and co-worker, Liz, and how she envied the woman for being so carefree, even in the face of adversity. Vivian had thought about her sick sister amongst other things, so he’d decided to find out about this blood relative that she was so fond of – a far cry from her backstabbing cousin. So he’d called Adison and put him on the case: to find Vivian Carver’s sister. Once the information had arrived, he’d easily tracked her down at her job.

  The woman was a bus driver and worked part time at a music library, too. Once he set his sights on her, he could immediately see the resemblance between the two. What a lovely woman. The only difference was that Vivian was curvaceous and fit, but her sister carried a significant amount of weight about the stomach, waist and legs, and moved rather slowly for someone her age. He’d decided to grant the wish of healing that Vivian so desperately desired. A snap of his fingers and gentle touch on the lady’s shoulder, and it was d
one. He’d winked at her in passing as she’d leaned against a wall to catch her breath after a strenuous hour of walking, although she’d failed to notice. This wasn’t uncommon.

  Weight loss wishes for a Jinn were fairly easy to grant, but much harder to preserve. It was up to the recipient to show effort in order for the results to continue. If she met the granted wish half way, by eating a bit healthier and exercising at least every now and again, she could expect to lose between fifteen to twenty-five pounds each month until she reached her ideal weight.

  He was truly pleased with this dream scenario. Hopefully it would make Vivian happy to know her sister’s health was under control. His body dried off as he stood thinking, then went to pick his clothes from the walk-in closet. Choosing to dress down was something he seldom did. However, his mind was made up. No suits, silk ties, and the like. He had a new plan.

  He pulled out a pair of distressed designer jeans, ripped about the knees, a button-down denim shirt, and a black leather jacket. It wasn’t his typical get-up, but he wanted her to feel relaxed around him. She liked to dress in jeans, sweatpants, and similar clothing, so he wanted her to be herself. As she was – a beautiful woman. She’d seen him dressed in his formal attire the majority of the time. Time for something a little more intimate.

  Moments later, after going over his hair with a fine-toothed gold comb and applying enough hair spray to freeze the world on its axis, he grabbed the fob to his baby blue Stingray Corvette Convertible and headed out the door. ‘When In Rome’ by The Promise played through his car speakers as he started the engine and adjusted his rear view mirror. Leaning back on the white leather seat, he moved through traffic toward his destination. Typically, he seldom looked around at people anymore as he made his rounds. Human beings were so damn predictable. They hadn’t changed for centuries; they were hard-wired to devolve, it seemed, but tonight, he decided to pay a bit more attention to them, particularly the women, as he came to a red light.

  A young man and woman in jeans and turtlenecks, probably both around twenty-five, held hands as they strolled on the sidewalk. Going past them in the opposite direction was a middle-aged couple with their arms looped together. The attractive, older woman wore a knitted mustard yellow beanie and matching light swing coat. The man with her had thinning salt and pepper hair, a prominent cleft chin, and dark brown eyes that drew attention to his pale complexion. Looking past the physical, he took note of the twinkle in the woman’s eye and concentrated on what that truly meant. Was she simply smitten? Lusty? No… it went deeper than that to something much more soul-stirring. She had a thing for him. It was demonstrated in how she glanced at him on occasion, looking shyly away, then changing to a more confident stance… flirty perhaps? Maybe in love. The man glanced at her occasionally as he spoke, then they both burst out laughing. Despite Shahzad’s incredible sense of hearing, he’d missed the punchline. It wasn’t his focus anyway.

  Is he really that funny? Or is that the love she has for him compelling her? I can see the chemistry between the two. I have to keep looking at the women, studying them…

  The light turned green and off he went, sneaking glances at women walking solo, in groups, and more couples. Women wearing earbuds, professional women, older women, women lost in their own world and beating to their own drum. He saw the beauty in the way a skirt would lift just for a moment, caught by the wind. A woman wearing construction attire grabbed his attention, too. She wore a smile that brightened her grimy face. Her orange hard hat was dented on one side, but her matching vest in contrast appeared sparkling clean. Donning jeans and work boots, she made her way through the crowd, clearly on a mission. A stylish Black woman with a short, red afro sporting sunglasses, a white poncho, black boots, and black and white striped leggings walked past. She reminded him of a fashion magazine model.

  No matter what background, size, or look, these were all women – all dreaming, all wishing. Some were tall, others short or in between. They had diverse belief systems, lived starkly different lives. Something about watching them, truly observing for more than just his own sexual desires, hit hard.

  What did they want? What lay behind their wishes? What drove them to wake up every morning and have the will to live, like, learn, love? He swallowed when he noted one woman mulling over a wish as she raced to a bus right before his eyes…

  I wish I could afford car insurance and my license wasn’t suspended so I wouldn’t have to catch two damn buses to get to work! This fucking sucks!

  He contemplated working that out for her – more pro bono work. But that was unheard of! Jinns, especially Marid Jinns, granting wishes so freely and expecting nothing in return was considered to be a sign of insanity. They were high up the totem pole and expected compensation of some sort. Not always financial, but something which made them feel as if they’d received a fair trade.

  He pulled up to the apartment building he’d purchased, filling with anticipation as he parked. When was the last time he’d felt such a thing? His heart bursting with excitement? It must’ve been at least fifty years prior, perhaps longer. Just as he was about to get out of his car, he heard her voice calling to him.

  “Shahzad…”

  He turned around. She walked to him, her low-heeled navy-blue satin shoes clip-clopping on the concrete. How stunning she looked in flared navy jeans and a form-fitting black shirt. A sparkly silver purse swung off her shoulder and her hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun.

  “I figured I’d wait for you out in the lobby so you wouldn’t need to come inside.” Her bright smile lit up the world as she pointed behind her to the building.

  It’s an ugly cage. She deserves better trappings than this…

  “I see.” He walked around his car and opened the passenger side door for her, then helped her inside. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She settled in her seat and looked up at him. The remnants of the sunlight hit her face just right. She was a work of art, a beautiful creation right before his eyes. “You look nice. Never seen you dressed like this.” He smiled before closing her door then glided onto the driver’s seat. Turning on the engine, he backed out of the parking spot, merging with traffic.

  “I originally planned to take you to one of the most expensive restaurants in town, but… I decided to be a bit more creative. Which is why I told you not to dress fancy.”

  “Yeah, I’m curious as to what you have up your sleeve. I was looking forward to the restaurant actually. I never really get to go out to places like that but I tried to not protest too much,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. Laughing, he turned up the music in the car. With Depeche Mode’s, ‘Lie To Me’ playing, he reached across and took her hand in his. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her staring at their intertwined fingers. It took just over thirty minutes to get to Eleven Madison Park, one of the top-rated restaurants in New York City.

  “Is this where we’re going?! You lied to me!” she said in a panic, her hand on the dashboard. I’m not dressed appropriately for this place and neither are you.”

  “Just hold on,” he stated calmly as he pulled up to the valet. “You’ll see what’s going on in a little bit.”

  Moments later, they walked hand in hand into the restaurant. He didn’t miss her wide-eyed expression. Her jaw dropped to the floor, then, clamping her mouth shut, she broke into an ear-to-ear grin. Two well-dressed men approached him, each with towels over their arms. One stepped in front of the other, his head held high.

  “Mr. Haidar and guest, please follow us. Your exclusive experience awaits…”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Save the Date

  Vivian stood in the massive, loud kitchen of the Eleven Madison Park restaurant. The clatter of cookware scraping against hot, oiled pans, slotted spoons stirring fragrant broths, and boisterous discussions in various languages filled the space. Chefs dressed in their white uniforms moving to and fro was a sight to see, all of them busy, their faces solemn. The various aromas, steam
and heat were overwhelming, although in a good way. She managed a smile as she pushed her confusion aside, and was soon handed a flute glass filled white wine and a strawberry as garnish. Shahzad had somehow slipped away. The man moved like smoke. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. Amazing how such a tall, imposing energy could simply vanish like that.

  Getting worried, she finally spotted him about twenty feet away speaking with what could possibly have been the head chef. She looked away for a moment, a mere few seconds, then stiffened when she felt a hard, masculine form get close, so close… Shahzad rested his hand on her shoulder, then leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  A soothing warmth radiated throughout her body, like a liquid balm to her soul or the softest shawl known to mankind wrapping around her. Taking a sip of her wine to gather her wits, she looked up at him. When I tell you this son of a bitch is fine!

  The seductiveness in his eyes stunned her. His lids hooded, brows slightly furrowed, she caught a whiff of his intoxicating cologne and fell further under his spell.

  “Why are we in the kitchen and not at a table? Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” She broke the silence.

  “No. Sometimes it’s better to just observe and enjoy the experience.” He winked then slowly licked his lower lip as he eyed her. “Not everything needs an explanation.”

  Before she could protest, a woman with a perfectly coiffed dark blond braided bun approached her, holding a small white plate with a creative and colorful appetizer.

  “Welcome, Ms. Carver. I would like to present to you this delectable soufflé with clam, potato, and leeks.”

  “This looks delicious, thank you.”