man standing behind her roommate.
Ciara smiled at the driver. “I’ll see you later.” She walked into the suite, closing the door.
“Who was that?” Sofia asked, slipping into a short silk robe she hadn’t bothered to put on when she went to open the door.
“My driver.”
Sofia Martinez plopped her petite body down on the sofa separating the living room from the suite’s dining area. She hadn’t seen her friend and roommate in weeks, but had to admit she looked better than she had in a very long time. Her face wasn’t as gaunt as the last time she’d seen her, and even her jeans fit her hips a bit more snugly. When she and Ciara didn’t catch up with each other by phone, they usually exchanged emails. Ciara was the ideal roommate. Sofia didn’t have to be concerned about Ciara entertaining men, because in the two years they’d lived together she’d never invited one home with her. “Whoa, chica. Usted está llevando la gran vida realmente.”
Ciara understood two words: grand and life. “Chica. I’m living la vida loca.”
She smiled at the woman who was like a sister to her. The thirty-five-year-old, five-foot-one, hundred-and-ten-pound former dancer was always bubbly and optimistic. She’d given up her dance career after she’d discovered her choreographer husband had been sleeping with a female dancer in their troupe. Sofia moved out of her Tribeca loft, and after her divorce and a sizeable settlement, she bought the two-bedroom co-op in West Harlem.
The two had first met at a dermatologist’s office. Sofia had been undergoing a procedure to minimize the appearance of acne caused by her heavy stage makeup. Sofia had shown Ciara an ad for a three-thousand-dollar pair of designer shoes. Ciara had admitted the most she’d paid for a pair of shoes was four hundred dollars, and that had been a bargain, because not only were they last year’s model, but the original price was twice that much. Sofia disclosed because she wore a sample size she was able to indulge in her shoe fetish to her heart’s content. She’d given Ciara two tickets to her dance troupe’s off-Broadway opening. After seeing the performance, Ciara had been awed by the exceptional talent of the woman with the long, black hair, large dark eyes and friendly smile.
Ciara went back to see the performance again, this time with several nurses from the hospital. They were invited backstage to meet the cast and joined several of them for a late dinner at a nearby restaurant. The gathering set the stage for a close friendship between Sofia and Ciara spanning eight years.
The two women had had one argument, when Ciara had offered to pay her share of the maintenance on the spacious co-op. Sofia went into high-drama mode, declaring tearfully that she couldn’t take the money because Ciara had let her live with her rent-free during her separation and drawn-out divorce. They finally reached a compromise: Ciara was responsible for paying the cable bill.
Sofia threw up a hand in a dramatic flourish. “My life should be so crazy.” She folded her legs under her body. “Now I want to hear all about it.”
Ciara, kicking off her sandals, feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“I want to hear all about you and Brandt Wainwright. I don’t need to know the juicy details, because all it’s going to do is make me more frustrated.”
“Why are you frustrated?”
“No puedo creerlo. I can’t believe you,” Sofia translated without taking a breath. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met a man who makes me want to sleep with him. It’s like that with Bobby.”
Pulling her feet up under her body, Ciara leaned in closer. “Does he feel the same way?”
Sofia lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. He hasn’t sent out any signals that he wants more than friendship.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re coworkers.”
Shaking her head, Sofia worried her lip. “I don’t think it’s that. I believe he thinks I want to get married.”
“But you don’t want to get married again. Or do you?” Ciara asked when seeing the faraway look in her friend’s eyes.”
Sofia’s eyelids fluttered wildly. “I would never marry again, even if I met what I thought was the perfect man, because there’s no such animal.”
“Not all men are cheaters, Sofia.”
“The only thing I’ll say is that all men aren’t control freaks like that butthead you finally threw out with the garbage.”
Ciara recalled her accusing Brandt of monitoring her whereabouts to try to control her. But he hadn’t wanted to control her, only to