Mister Moneybags(33)

Pulling Bianca aside, I said. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just peachy.”

That doesn’t sound good. “What’s the matter?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. I was thinking I’d take off now. The shoot seems to be almost done, and Cheri is more than happy to take care of anything you might need.”

I went with my hunch. “Actually, I do need you. We’re almost done here, but I thought the magazine should probably get an exclusive look at where I live.”

“Where you live?”

I turned to the photographer who was adjusting his camera lens. “Joel. How would you like to take some shots in my apartment on Central Park West?”

He nearly salivated. “That would be great. I think we got enough good photos here at the office. Some shots of where you live would really give the people an insight into the real Dexter Truitt.”

That’s exactly what I’m banking on.

“Great. I’ll call my driver. There’s plenty of natural light in my apartment. I think it’s safe we won’t be needing the services of a makeup or lighting artist.” I turned to look at Bianca. “Ms. George can let us know what she would like to see inside my apartment.”





“Smart dog,” I mumbled under my breath. Bandit had met us at the door, came to me for a quick pat, and went right to Bianca. She bent down and he buried his head in her chest, nearly knocking her over. No wonder we get along so well. You’re my new wingman, Bandit. Warm her up, but save me some of that, will ya, buddy?

“Bandit. Let Bianca at least come inside.”

“Your dog really seems to like her. He barely even noticed that we were here,” Joel said.

“Do you blame him?”

Inside, I gave Joel a quick tour of the kitchen and living room. While he was taking in the view of Central Park, I returned to the front door where Bandit was still mauling Bianca. Taking his collar, I gave him a slight tug. “Come on, buddy. I’ll bribe you with a treat.”

That bought off my wingman when he took the biscuit and trotted off to my bedroom in the back. He seemed to have commandeered that space as his place to hide his prized possessions.

Bianca was dusting off tiny, grey dog hairs from her black skirt, and I noticed her deep green blouse had a circle of wet over her left breast. “My dog seems to have left his mark on you.” My turn.

She looked down and laughed. “He’s a slobberer.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t get him to sleep anywhere but on my bed. Some mornings, I worry my housekeeper is going to think I’ve developed a bed-wetting problem.”

“I think it’s really sweet you’re allowing him to sleep in the bed with you. But it’s a hard habit to break, and dogs can become territorial when…you know…you have company.”

“Perhaps he needs to get used to it right away. Are you available to stay this evening?”

Bianca rolled her eyes at me. “Are you giving me a tour, or what?”

Joel was busy taking test shots of different places in the living room to test out the natural light streaming in from the windows, so I put my hand at Bianca’s back. “Of course. What do you say I show you the bedroom first?”

“What a shocker you’d suggest that?”

I gave Bianca the grand tour; she seemed curious as we walked around. Although I noticed she stayed in the doorway of my bedroom. She was trying to keep her distance, and as much as I understood that, my need to push closer was equally as strong as hers was to push me away. I got the feeling our standoff might be a test of endurance. What she didn’t realize was that we’d had our first battle, and due to my own asinine self, I lost that one. But this was a war—one I planned to win.

When we got to my office, I opened the door and then quickly shut it. Coming to my apartment wasn’t something I’d originally planned, and I’d forgotten the mess I’d left on my desk.

“It’s a mess in there,” I offered, and began to walk toward the next door. But Bianca didn’t budge.

“What are you hiding in there?”

“Nothing.”

She squinted. “More secrets?”

“It’s not like that.”

“So show me the room. What are you hiding from me now, Dex? Or should I call you Jay when you lie?” She folded her arms over her chest.

There was no way out of this one unscathed. I took a deep breath. “Fine.”





I didn’t know what to say. I just stood and stared. The oversized desk was a cluttered mess. There were piles of wood shavings, various wooden blocks that were carved and disregarded, an instruction book that was held open by a desk phone and all sorts of wooden-handled tools scattered around the long desk. But that wasn’t what got to me. It was the open first aid kit, along with an assortment of crumpled up, bloodied paper towels and at least half a dozen Band-Aid wrappers.

Dex was standing behind me. Neither of us had said a word since he’d flicked on the light. I turned to face him.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you tell me you whittled?”

“You want the truth?”

“Of course, I do.”

He raked a hand through his dark hair. “I have no f*cking idea. I wanted to sound like a regular guy, I guess.”