Nerves creep in as more people gather around us. “Why didn’t we?”
“Because someone had a hangover which set us back several hours. And it’s quicker to walk than drive in the city.” I don’t miss the irritability in his tone, despite using his body to shield me from the flock of women trying to close in with outstretched hands…reaching for him.
The bodyguards quickly usher us into a nearby building.
“One week,” I concede as we wait for the small crowd outside the deli we were shoved inside to wane. “That’s it.”
Eventually this will all die down and I’ll be old news. I just have to ride it out for a bit.
Phoenix thanks the staff for letting us take cover and quickly poses for some photos.
“There’s an exit out back,” one of the bodyguards tells us.
Phoenix finishes scribbling his signature on the wall—via the owner’s request—and takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
After slipping out the rear door, we walk down some alley until we have no choice but to return to the main street.
Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, Phoenix takes out an extra pair of sunglasses and hands them to me. “Put these on.”
I do without protest, even though we’re back to being inconspicuous people again.
A few minutes later, his steps come to a halt, and he looks up. “We’re here.”
I glance around and my stare snags on a street sign that says Central Park West. “Central Park?”
I’ve never been here before, so I’m excited.
That excitement fades, though, when Phoenix shakes his head. “Nope.”
Lacing our fingers again, he leads me to some Victorian Gothic-looking building.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful piece of architecture—in a mysterious and haunting kind of way—but I have no idea why he brought me here.
Maybe it’s a museum or an art gallery?
Dear God, please don’t be another World War II exhibit. I came dangerously close to falling asleep at the one George took me to on our date.
I’m even more baffled when Phoenix stops in front of a gate under an archway. I also notice another sign. Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.
And an angry-looking doorman.
“No loitering.”
Given I don’t want to spend the rest of my afternoon in a jail cell, I tug on his hand. “Let’s go.”
Phoenix juts his chin at one of the security guards who walks over to the doorman and whispers something in his ear…then he slips him some cash.
The guy looks a lot friendlier after that.
“Ten minutes,” he tells Phoenix. “But I’m not allowed to let you go inside. You’d have to obtain special permission for that, and it’s above my pay grade.”
“It’s cool,” Phoenix says. “I appreciate it.”
Okay, this is just getting weird now. I have no idea why we’re standing outside of what appears to be the entrance to whatever building this is.
“Where are we?”
“This is The Dakota.” His lips part on an inhale. “It’s the place—”
“John Lennon was killed,” I finish for him as a spike of uneasiness flows through me.
My father told me he came here once, and it was so upsetting for him he shed a tear and vowed never to return.
I can understand why.
“This is your idea of a date?” I point to myself. “You realize I’m Lennon, right? Why on earth would you take me to the place in which the person I was named after was shot to death?”
Phoenix really didn’t think this one through. Or maybe he did…the asshole.
His lips turn down and his brows pull in, as if he’s the insulted party here. “This isn’t just the place he died. It’s also the place where he lived and created.”
My uneasiness turns to horror when I realize we’re standing right where the horrible event happened.
I drop my voice so as not to draw attention to us or the conversation we’re having. “He was murdered right here. What the hell is the matter with you?”
His jaw flexes, and even with his sunglasses on, I can feel his glare. “This is the main fucking entrance, Len—Groupie. We can’t go beyond this point.” Visibly rattled, he waves a hand in the direction of the doorman. “Right?”
Pity flashes in the man’s eyes and he gives him an affirmative nod. “Yes, sir.”
His face falls. “I’ve never done this dating shit before. But, hey, fuck me, right?”
A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. He’s so endearing right now, it trumps my frustration.
As eerie as this date of ours is, it’s obvious he put a lot of thought into it.
It’s also something I’ll never forget…so there’s that.
Phoenix scowls. “And now you’re laughing.” Removing his glasses, he drags a hand down his face. “Christ. Let’s g—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because I rise on my tiptoes, grip his shirt, and kiss him. Taking him—and me—by surprise.
My pulse races as his tongue teases and coaxes mine. Cupping my face, he tilts his head and kisses me deeper. All I can feel is the thud of my heart against my ribs as I lose myself in this moment. In him.
Evidently a little too long, though, because the doorman clears his throat. “Your ten minutes are up.”
“We need another ten,” Phoenix murmurs against my lips before backing me into one side of the archway.
He’s like quicksand, pulling me under and I’m helpless to stop it.
Ten minutes later, there’s another throat clear. “Okay, sir. You really have to go now. Some of the residents are beginning to complain.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment as we break apart. “Sorry.”
My eyes swivel around, taking everything in.
“We need another minute,” Phoenix says behind me.
A weight filled with longing settles in my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve written.
Since I’ve created.
So long I probably lost the ability to do it even though my mind and soul yearn for that outlet.
I miss it so much it hurts.
Like a phantom pain from losing one of your limbs.
My heart beats slower—weaker—as though it were slipping away.
I peer down at the ground. Like dying.
Phoenix stands in front of me…eclipsing me.
Just like he always does.
“We can’t stay any longer. Not unless I buy an apartment here.”
I hike my purse up my shoulder. “Where to now?”
Slipping his shades back on, he points to a nearby hot dog stand. “Food.” His throat dips. “Then the airport.”
My heart beats even slower and my next breath is a struggle. “Oh.”
This is it.
He holds out his hand, and I take it.
“I thought you weren’t leaving for Europe until tomorrow?” I utter as we walk over to the stand.
It’s nuts that they’re already starting another tour so soon.
“What do you like on your hot dog?”
“Ketchup, mustard…and sauerkraut.”
His lips quirk. “Same.”
He quickly rattles off our order and gives the guy some cash.