VII

Richie looked at his watch: Frédérique had proved to be of the punctual kind so she should be arriving any minute now. He stood in front of the picture window and observed the privileged views of Philadeplhia.  It was a sunny but chilly afternoon, he had set the heating to a mild temperature and the rays that came through the huge windows did the rest.

He thought about turning on the radio, but then discarded the idea: it was a business meeting after all. Yeah, right. He sat at the piano across the room and started playing softly, but couldn’t get quite into it: his mind was busy entertaining thoughts about the person he was expecting. He had just put his hands back on his thighs when the reception phone rang, announcing that Frédérique was on her way up.

…

On the drive over to the building as well as on her way up to Richie’s apartment, Frédérique had had time to concentrate and focus on the task at hand, this meeting bared a high level of difficulty: not only did she have to do the presentation by herself (that, she could handle), but she had to take care of the legal papers (which she loathed) and of course…she also had to keep her hormones at bay.

She checked her hair and barely there makeup on the mirror in the back of the elevator. Her style fit into the hippie-chic category: it didn’t look all the way casual or all the way formal, either. She had adopted that style while she lived in Paris. That day she was wearing wide boot gray dress trousers and a white cotton shirt under a light brown vest, adding a note of color with a silk napkin wrapped loosely around her neck. She had taken off her coat as soon as she had entered the lobby and it was now hanging over the laptop case dangling from her shoulder. She was wearing pointy flat shoes that matched her vest. Her hair was done in a lose braid that hung over her left shoulder, some long thin tresses falling over her cheeks.

Frédérique was satisfied: the only adjustment she made was pull the tresses away from her face and closer to her ears. She was still at it when she heard the doors slid open behind her. Frédérique turned on her heels and stormed out, but found herself against a human wall, her face flat on a person’s chest. She felt the person stumble and take a step back to resist the bump, carrying both of them along. Here we go again. The person managed to avoid them falling to the floor by leaning on the wall in front of the elevator door across the corridor.

Recognizing the scent Frédérique automatically jumped back but the doors had closed behind her.

“Whoa”, Richie said and grabbed her arms, immobilizing them against her sides as if he was saving her from falling off a cliff.

Frédérique raised her gaze to meet his: “I thought I’d told you I was hazardous”.

“Oh, I KNOW you are, darlin': I've witnessed it firsthand…”, Richie replied and added: “...so I decided to wait out here in case there was some rescuing to be done”. He took a step back when he felt her struggling to release herself from his grip. “…I guess that backfired”.

She was then able to observe him. Yes, Richie was definitely decided to make things impossible for her, she began from the bottom up: he was dressed in simple blue jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves pulled up half way over his forearms, buttons undone down to the middle of his chest. She took a few more seconds on his pecs and the silver accessory resting in between them, then moved on up. When she reached his face she noticed he was checking her out, too. Busted.

She quickly recovered and looked at the open door behind Richie. Frédérique pointed at it, a questioning look on her face.

“Yup, please come in”, stretching his right arm, Richie waited for Frédérique to enter first and then closed the door behind him. He took her jacket and put it on a coat-hanger in the closet on his left. She timidly walked into the living room and took a look around.

“Wow, this is gorgeous”, she said, but stood still and stuck her head forward to look down the hall. “Is the office this way?”.

“Yeah, it is, but I figured we’d have more room here, AND it’s much more comfortable. I don’t like that little cage too much, this room has much better views”, he replied. Even better now.

Richie lead Frédérique towards the sofa in the center of the room. She sat down while he remained standing.

“Coffee? Tea? Water?” Richie asked.

“Um…OK, just water, please”, she said as she started setting the laptop on the low table. She pressed the “On” button. By the time he came back she was ready to start, her legs crossed and her hands on her knees in a very lady-like position.

There was an armchair on each side of the sofa and several other stools and ottomans, but Richie sat next to Frédérique on the sofa.  “Ready if you are”, he said.

Without further ado, Frédérique started by telling him the different ideas the team had come up, the inspiration from the surroundings and the kind of technology they were planning on using. Then she spoke about the possible materials and the overall aesthetics of the project. Richie listened without interrupting her - he himself hated to be interrupted when he was “in the zone” so he only made mental notes and questions, sipping from his cup of coffee every once in a while. The explanation was very thorough, and by the end of the almost two hours she talked non-stop without having even a drop of her water, most of the questions that he had come up had with early on, had already been answered.

"And that's about it", Frédérique finished.

Silence. She drank half the glass of water and waited.

“I love it, I really do”, he finally said. This was the first time Richie actually got involved in the construction of a building he owned, both the Cali house and the Philly apartment, together with a bunch of other houses he had bought on Jon’s suggestion, were already built when he had become the owner, so this was completely new to him. He was delighted to find how some of his very primitive ideas had taken a more palpable form. This was fun. Or at least SHE made it fun.

Frédérique took a deep breath and relaxed her posture but waited for him to elaborate.

“I wouldn’t change a thing, when do we start?” he said, rubbing his hands together and bitting his lower lip, his dimples appearing again.

Frédérique stood up, “I need to stretch my legs for a moment before we go over the contract, and that too may take a while”. “That is...-she continued-…if you approve of the project and decide to choose us to take care of it”.  Frédérique realized she was almost sweating. Damn, is it that hot in here?. She took off the napkin from around her neck and flapped the collar of her shirt, looking around. It must have something to do with his throat problem.

“Come on, ya gotta be kiddin’ me. How could I NOT choose ya, Fred?” he said, standing up, too. Second person singular. He took her hand in both of his and shook them together, emphasizing what he said next: “It’s wonderful and I can't imagine anybody but you making it happen”.

“Well, I have to ask, you know”, she was flattered but not surprised, she knew she was good at what she did. She smiled and let her arm drop down, “We have a deal, then”.

Richie noticed Frédérique looking around and stopping on some details on the wall.

“I can give you a tour of the apartment, if you’re interested”, he asked, “you could give me your professional opinion”.

“Yes, sure, why not?”, she accepted without hesitation, her interest was purely professional. Was it not?

“Alright then, but please be gentle: I’m not very good at decorating”, Richie laughed and was almost immediately followed by Frédérique.

“I’ll try”, she said. Richie then showed her the kitchen behind them and they walked along the corridor, passing through the small office and the two bedrooms on their left to finally arrive at his bedroom door at the end of the corridor. They walked through it but Frédérique could see nothing but doors and a wall in front of her. Yuk. She finally found another corridor on her left with the bed at the end. That was too complicated for her taste: kind of maze-like - she preferred open and free-flowing spaces.

“So...whaddaya think?”, Richie asked, scratching the back of his head with his left arm, what pulled the hem of his sweater an inch up. The other hand went into his front pocket, lowering the waist of his jeans. Frédérique followed each movement with her eyes until a well two inches of his stomach were showing. She quickly got rid of the thoughts coming to her head and looked back at the corridor. She was trying to find a comment that wouldn’t sound too harsh: some people weren’t good at taking criticism - specially about their own home - and took it personally. 

“It’s a long way to the bed, huh?”, she finally said, then turned to him. It was not until Frédérique saw the amusement on Richie's face that she realized what she had just said. She blushed but immediately composed herself as if nothing had happened.

“Are we ready for that contract?” she asked, and made quick steps towards the living room.

Frédérique was already half way down the corridor when Richie managed to speak: “Sure”.