out taking the stairs, but exhaustion had hit hard about two hours ago. Daniel still couldn’t believe he’d done it. Given up his place in Greenwich, Connecticut, to move to the city. The short commute alone was worth it, but that he’d found this place in Chelsea, well, that was something else.
Chelsea. Everyone knew about Chelsea. How the art scene had changed the landscape in the late eighties and expatriates fleeing the Village’s high prices had moved here, renovating lofts and garment buildings into high-end co-ops. The area had been predominantly gay, but now was home for an eclectic mix of people. That mix gave Chelsea a vibrancy, an aliveness, and had attracted him. In Greenwich, he’d had a nice place, but there was no… Hell, he didn’t know what was missing, except that his life had become stale. Boring as an old shoe.
His move had raised eyebrows at the firm, but he didn’t care. Well, he cared, but not enough to alter his plans.
They reached the lobby and headed for the double-parked truck in front of the building. Steve rested against the back bumper, reading. He held up a finger, making them wait while he finished his chapter, then closed the paperback. “Bed?”
“Yeah,” Daniel said. “And it’s your turn, so get off your lazy butt.”
Steve looked at the other two men. “Can you believe this guy?”
“I say we let him take up the mattress by himself,” Bill said, jumping up to sit next to Steve.
“Hey, I’ve got pizza coming in an hour. I’d prefer to eat it hot.”
Terry squished up his face and repeated Daniel’s words in a voice worthy of a cranky two-year-old.
Daniel ignored him, jumped up onto the back of the truck and whipped the guys into shape. Bill stayed behind this time, but they managed to get the mattress upstairs without him. Waiting just inside the door was a surprise. A woman stood amidst the jumble, tall, very thin, wearing a tiny stretch top that just covered her small, high breasts, and tights. Her abdomen was bared, and he could tell she worked out.
“Hi,” she said, giving him a wide smile. “Welcome to the building. I’m Corrie. 302. Married to Nels.”
“I’m Daniel.” He held out his hand. “Daniel Houghton III.”
She put her little birdlike hand in his, and he was careful not to squeeze too hard. “Sundays we have this dinner,” she said. Her voice was high and as thin as she was. “Everybody comes. We go from apartment to apartment. We all make something. Appetizers, salads, main course.” She blushed. It made her look like a teenager. “Anyway, first time, you’re off the hook for food. But please join us, okay?”
He nodded. “I’d love to.”
She smiled again. “I’ve got—” she nodded toward the door “—things to do.”
“Thanks, Corrie,” he said.
“We start at five,” she said, backing up, almost tripping over a box. “Oh, you can bring wine. Wine’s good.”
“Great.”
Behind him, the guys came out of the bedroom.
“Okay, then,” she said. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
“Now I get it,” Terry said.
Daniel turned. “Get what?”
“Why you moved here. All these straight women have so few straight guys to choose from.” He turned to Steve. “He’s not as dumb as he looks.”
“Well, thanks. Now get your ass back to the truck.”
Steve laughed as he headed out the door. Terry just glared. But they’d finish the job soon, and Daniel was grateful for that. He had four days to unpack this mess. Then it was back to work.
He was an architect. A good one. The firm he worked for, Kogen, Teasdale and Webster, was well respected in the industry, and he was inching his way up, slowly but surely, to partner.
Daniel checked his watch. He figured another three hours and he’d be alone. Not that he didn’t appreciate his friends lending a hand, but he wanted to get on with it. Get this place livable so he could begin this new phase of his life. Exploring the streets, checking out the architecture, the galleries, restaurants, finding his local market, the dry cleaners.
He grinned. Dinner with all the tenants. In the five years he’d lived in Greenwich, he’d met two of his neighbors, but he’d never shared so much as a cup of coffee with them. This was a good move. A new beginning. But he’d have to break out of his old habits, be willing to experiment. He headed toward the elevator. This felt right. Just what he needed. He hoped.
“OH, MY GOD, he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. I swear, Margot, he’s like six feet tall, and he has dark hair that’s tragically unhip, and he wears these round glasses that went out with the eighties, and his jeans were ironed. He tucked in his Polo shirt, for heaven’s sake. And I swear, if I wasn’t married I’d eat him up with a spoon. Wait’ll you see.”
Margot couldn’t help but laugh. When Corrie got going it was like listening to an auctioneer on helium. “Is he coming on Sunday?”
“Yep. He’s in. Oh, God, what a doll baby. I’m telling you, girl, we’re going to have so much fun with this one.”
“It sounds like a major redo.”
“From the ground up. His tennis shoes. Did I mention his tennis shoes?”
“No, but I can’t hear about it now. I’ve got serious staff issues.”
“Oh, I’m such a jerk. You’re having this first-day thing, and I’m going on and on about Daniel. Can you stand it? Daniel Houghton III. Have you ever?”
“Never. But they only gave me two assistants, which is insanity. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Break a leg.”
“Right. Bye.” Margot switched off her phone and watched as one of the assistants, Bettina, shaved lettuce. The other one, Rick, was sorting buns. She couldn’t believe there were only two, and neither one of them had enough experience to clean the fridge.
It was unheard of that there were so few people on a food commercial. She’d put in a call to her boss, Janice, but the woman hadn’t been there. Surely this was a mistake, and would be rectified soon, but in the meantime, she had to get her ass in gear if she expected to get anything out to the director.
They had almost a hundred buns that had to be sorted, looking for the perfect combination of symmetry, color, shape, size and the placement of the sesame seeds. Once they’d found the perfect bun, what they called the hero in the biz, they’d set that aside. The second best, they’d use as the stand-in, building a burger for the lighting guys. She had her bag of extra sesame seeds in her kit, along with glue, in case they had to make adjustments.
Then there was the lettuce to tear, the ketchup to drain, the burgers to shape and cook just enough so they wouldn’t look raw, the grill marks to place, the cheese to melt, the onions, the tomatoes… It was too much for so few people with so little time.
She
