Boss of Me

“I remember the first time I saw that view.” Cracking one open, he hands it to me. “I thought you might prefer it here to a smaller room farther down.”

“You’re right.” I cut my eyes at him, unable to hide my smile. “It’s incredible. So much bigger than I realized.”

“It’s the second largest city in the U.S.” He takes a sip of his water, going to the door.

I’m unable to move from my spot looking down at all the houses and buildings. To my left are more high-rise buildings, but we seem to be on the edge of them. We have an unobstructed view of the scenery.

Looking over my shoulder, Patton tips the bellman and rolls our luggage down the narrow hall to what I assume is the bedroom. The suite is long and narrow with matching beige furniture, brown wood tables and soft leather chairs. The bedroom is behind a wall with entrances on both sides. I climb off the sofa and go to where he’s hanging his suit and tux.

The wall of windows extends the length of the hall into the bedroom, which is gorgeous. It’s decorated in soothing shades of sand and cream, and the bed looks like it’s floating over a rectangular base. A thick white duvet is on top with a soft, knit blanket in the center.

“I think you’ll like this.” He turns and catches my hand, leading me past another wall to an enormous bathroom with a stone-lined jetted tub near the window-wall. “This time, we’ll use it.”

A little thrill zips through my stomach at his words. “I bet it’s beautiful at night.”

“We’ll find out, but first, dinner. Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving.”

“I’m sure you are.” He catches my hand, leading me back down the hardwood hall to the entrance. “Your body is two hours ahead here.”

We hop in the car, holding hands as usual. It’s almost like we’re afraid to let go, lest one of us slips away. Five minutes later, he’s helping me out in front of a large square with a brown sign reading Grand Central Market. It’s crowded with pedestrians, but it seems we’re a bit ahead of the regular dinner rush. He leads me to a white-tiled counter with Wexler’s Deli painted on the front.

We wait in line, and I scan the menu. It’s typical New York deli fare. The woman at the register smiles expectantly.

“Two MacArthur Parks and two Cokes.” As far as I can tell, Patton never even looked at the menu.

She rings it up, and he hands over the money. It’s like I’m not even here.

“You know what I want?”

He passes me a paper cup, and two guys behind the glass barrier get busy slinging rye bread, pastrami, swiss cheese, Russian dressing, and cole slaw.

“It’s the best pastrami in the city.” He takes his change and takes a pause. “Okay, the best pastrami in the city is Langer’s, but this is a very close second.”

They’re done, handing us a white paper bag, and he leads me to a table. I’m sipping my drink thoughtfully as I watch him.

“How do you know so much about LA?” We unwrap our sandwiches, and I confess, it smells delicious. “Do you visit here a lot?”

“When we’re talking to potential clients, it helps to know about the cities, the best and the worst, to get them to sign.”

“Makes sense.” I take a bite, considering how much additional homework I need to do when the smoky, tangy flavors hit my tongue. “Oh my…” I sit back, covering my mouth. “This is so good! How did you know I’d like this—”

“This isn’t our first meal together.”

I’m amazed and a lot thrilled that he pays so much attention to my interests. We chew quietly for several minutes. As usual, he’s nearly finished in five bites.

“You should slow down and let your stomach catch up.”

He seems confused at first, then nods. “Habit.”

“You have a habit of eating like it’s a contest?”

“Saves time.”

I finish half my sandwich and wrap up the other, putting it in the bag. My stomach is tight and my heart is beating so fast, I’m not really hungry.

“That’s it for you? I thought you were starving.”