New York City
April 23
That evening, Calliope stared out her bay window at the vintage Land Rover Defender in the traditional safari green idling in front of her brownstone. Tox stood in the seat and hopped over the driver’s side door to the street in a smooth vault. He was wearing a hunter green, long-sleeved, button-neck t-shirt, faded jeans, and brown leather lace-up desert boots. He looked…edible.
She glanced down at her little black dress and strappy sandals. He hadn’t mentioned where they were going or what to wear, so Calliope had dolled up. Leave it to this sky-high hulk to knock her off her game. Well, no sense in only one of them being unsteady. She pulled open the heavy door and leaned against the jamb, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked.
“So, I take it this is a casual date?”
Tox just stood at the foot of the stairs and stared.
“Just give me a minute, and I’ll run up and change.”
The only indication he had heard her was his fists balling at his sides.
“Well, come on in.” She unclasped the halter behind her neck and held the bodice of the dress to her chest with one hand as she climbed the steps. “Coco’s on the couch. I’ll be right back.”
The low rumbling growl made Calliope wonder if a motorcycle had driven down the next block.
Tox was parked on the couch with Coco’s head on his lap when one long leg made an appearance on the stairs. Her descent was like watching burlesque. An ankle, a knee, one thigh then the other. Tox shot to his feet, dislodging the dog. She had changed into frayed cutoffs, Chucks, and a cropped white t-shirt. Less formal, yes. Less sexy, no. She had pulled her ebony hair into a high ponytail that danced between her shoulder blades.
“So, where are we headed?”
“I don’t want to share you.” Tox stood stunned for a minute, taken aback by his uncensored blurt. His possessive remark was met with twinkling spectral eyes as Calliope grabbed his hand.
“Maybe I don’t want to be shared.”
“Let’s go. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
“Lead the way.”
Calliope gave Coco a farewell scratch and they headed out.
The Defender bumped along the rutted streets as Tox drove them deeper into Brooklyn. Calliope glanced out the window as the tree-lined blocks of charming brownstones faded into well-kept working-class homes fading into derelict apartment buildings and finally industrial sites. They didn’t speak for a while, but the air between them was thick. Calliope turned her head and watched his big hands effortlessly control the car, imagined those big hands effortlessly controlling her. They hit a particularly deep rut and Calliope went a few inches airborne. Tox put his hand on her shoulder to ensure she was back in her seat as if gravity wouldn’t do the trick.
“Sorry. It’s not the smoothest ride.”
“Don’t be. It takes me right back to Tanzania. We drove a car just like this at the Serengeti preserve.”
Tox grumbled “we” under his breath, and Calliope warmed at the idea that he was jealous. The concept of jealousy was anathema to her. She had never invested in another person to the point she would be upset if they left. If a guy she was dating was interested in someone else? Boa sorte e tchau—good luck and goodbye.
She guessed there had been men who had been jealous of her. A guy she dated briefly in Barcelona threw rocks at her window one night, shouting from the street that he knew someone else was in her bed. But she was never around long enough to address it. With Tox though… He was so happy-go-lucky, so unflappable, so comme si comme ça, that when something affected him, people took notice. There was lava flowing under the surface; upsetting the balance could cause an eruption. A very dark, very erotic part of her wanted to see it happen. But not yet.
“Adrian, the photographer I worked with, hated it. Said his husband drove a G-wagon and it wasn’t much better. When he wasn’t on a shoot, he was definitely a Tesla man.”
Tox nodded along, assuaged. He turned a final corner, one hand on the wheel, one on the back of her seat, and pulled to a stop on an empty street.
“Wait one sec. The door’s a little tricky.”
He vaulted out and came around the car to pry open her door and help her down.
“Where are we?”
“Bushwick.”
“I mean, where are we?”
Tox simply smiled and gestured for her to proceed down the uneven sidewalk.