by Wolf, Alex
She stares at me for a long second.
“Please, I’ll pay anything. And your sign says you don’t close until six.”
She smiles her ass off. “Well, I was with you until you busted my balls for leaving early.”
I nod, grinning. “I’ll definitely tell your boss.” I smile wider to let her know I’m just giving her shit. “Lengthy email is already writing itself in my mind.”
“I am the boss, smartass. Now, come in before I shut the door in your face.”
I don’t even think, just take off past her before she can lock me out. I have to move quickly, and truth-be-told, I should be nicer because I don’t even remember what orchids look like. I didn’t even glance at Mary’s earlier. Just grabbed what the other lady gave me at the florist by work, paid, and left.
I fumble around staring at a couple rows of flowers, then back at the lady for a second, trying to give her a hint.
She puts her hands on her hips again, clearly amused, then sighs and says, “Follow me.”
“About time.” I walk after her.
“Your date is in for a real treat tonight.” She smirks and leads us over to some purple flowers that look different from all the others.
“That’s what I keep telling her.”
She laughs this time, a genuine, real laugh. “How many for the lucky lady?”
“A hundred!”
She dies this time. “How about this arrangement with six? You might actually be able to carry it.” She holds it up and it looks better than all the other ones.
“Done.” I yank them out of her hand, toss a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, and haul ass out the door.
“Be on time if we do this again, asshole!”
I can’t stop laughing and throw up a middle finger as I run out of the store.
“Good luck!”
I smirk as I cross the street. I don’t need luck. I just need an opportunity. Just one foot in her door, so she can’t slam it in my face.
Thank God it’s nice outside, about seventy degrees. I’m still close to sweating my ass off as I make my way back to her building.
Luck is on my side once more, an additional sign of fate for Mary and me, as a couple come out the door when I need to go in. I trap it with my foot once they leave, then shimmy my way inside, without spilling any water out of the vase.
There’s a line at the elevator of people getting in from work. I glance around the lobby, then head for the stairs. I take them two at a time, all the way to the third floor.
The whole time I fly up them, I tell myself I can do this, over and over. We’re meant for each other. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. All I know is that I know. I’ve always known, from the first time I saw her. I’m not taking no for an answer. She’s going to be mine. That’s how it is. I don’t give a shit if I have to memorize the Bible and live in a damn church, as long as I’m with her, life will be right.
As I walk down her hallway, my shoes feel like they fill up with cement. My legs grow heavy, my heart thuds in my chest. I’ve never been this nervous in my life. Maybe because it’s all been a game so far. I’ve done what I always do, manipulate, use my skillset to get what I want, and been beyond obvious about it. Mary’s too good for that. She’s deserved this right here from the beginning, and I never gave it to her. Maybe it was out of fear, I don’t know. I don’t pretend to know what it is every time I look at her, but I want to find out. I will find out.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.
There’s only one problem.
After I look down at the flowers, straighten my collar, take a deep breath, muster up every ounce of courage I have in my body—I ring the doorbell.
She doesn’t answer.
Mary Patrick
I watch Rick, standing in front of my door through the Ring camera app on my phone. I can’t believe he actually showed up, and only a few feet separate us right now. He’s holding the most gorgeous arrangement of orchids I’ve ever seen, even better than the ones at the office that now sit on my counter. I played it off as a coincidence that he guessed right earlier, but I was kidding myself. Of course he knows my favorite flowers. I have no idea how he got that information, but it shouldn’t surprise me. It’s what he does.
I glance down and scold myself for being dressed up for this date he basically demanded. I tried to force myself to go for a drive, be anywhere but here when he showed up, but I couldn’t. No, I came home and got ready because there’s something about Rick Lawrence that I can’t stay away from, no matter how bad I want to.
I know who he is. Sure, he’s never shown me the real him. I’m not one to usually judge someone, but I’ve heard unanimously from basically every female in the office that he’s a misogynist, player, crude—take your pick. Nobody ever describes him as being the way he acts when he’s around me, and everyone looks like they’re permanently in shock every time they see us together somewhere.
Which is a major problem. I don’t like to be deceived. I don’t enjoy being manipulated, and that’s what he’s doing. I graduated high school, and I won’t relive it as an adult. What if this is like the movie She’s All That? Maybe someone bet him he couldn’t get a date with me, and the second he gets what he wants a curtain is going to fall, and there will be a crowd of people laughing at me for being so stupid and falling for it.
Rick stands there for a while. It has to be a good three or four minutes, but it feels like an hour. He doesn’t budge, just stares straight forward, waiting.
For some reason I want to open the door so bad, but I just can’t. What if none of it is real? I think that’s the hardest part. What if it is some kind of sick game, and I give in, only to be humiliated?
Finally, after several minutes, his head drops, and he walks away.
My heart pinches in my chest. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have feelings for this man. I’m not perfect, but I’m a moral person. I try to do good, do the right thing. If I ever end up with a man, Rick is not who I would envision myself with. He’s so… James Dean-like, and I always pictured myself with a boring corporate lawyer or someone along those lines. Someone nerdy who listens to audiobooks of classic novels or nonfiction during his commute. Someone predictable.
Regardless of what people think about me, I’m not that innocent. I like men. I’ve had sex. I just happen to be religious and think reading is fun. I’m pretty boring. If they knew some of the books I’ve read, they’d probably change their entire outlook on me, though. I’m not afraid to dive into some dirty romance when the mood hits me.
None of it matters right now, though. Rick walks away and takes every ounce of excitement in my life with him. In that moment, I realize just how different my life has been with him following me around like a puppy dog. The funniest part is, I immediately miss it. I don’t want to, but I do.
I think what cemented the whole thing was when he followed me home the other night. He didn’t try to come up or take credit for it. When it mattered, he was there, even though he knew I was pissed at him. There’s something admirable about that, and I know there is so much more to him. The problem is, he won’t show me that part of him. He even hid it the other night and never mentioned it.
I start to turn around and go change out of my cute date outfit. It’s nothing special, just a black midi-skirt and red blouse, but it’s more intriguing than what I usually wear. My hair is curled. It’s a normal outfit for anyone else, but it’s dressed up for me, and I know I look cute in it. I find myself wishing he would’ve seen me.
I step forward and rest my forehead on the door, staring down at the ground, regretting my decision. What would it have hurt? I never take any risks in life, and this might be one I end up regretting forever. What harm could’ve come from having one date with a hot man who is nothing like me?
“It’s happening, Mary.”
The words resonate through the door and freeze me in my tracks. My heart pounds against my chest, coming alive at the sound of his words. I lean back g
ingerly from the door and look down at my phone screen. He stares right back at me in the camera, as if he’s looking into my soul.
“I know you’re there, right on the other side, warring with yourself over what to do. Open the door.”
I want to yank it open, I’m paralyzed. I can’t move. What just happened here? I’d totally written this whole thing off in my mind, and he just appeared out of nowhere, like he did it on purpose.
He exhales a large breath, and his jaw relaxes a little. His eyebrows rise, and he stares right at me on my screen and says, “Please?”
I shake my head, as if he could see me, even though I know he can’t.
He came back.
Without thinking anything through, I say loud enough for him to hear, “How did you know I was here?”
His lips immediately curl into a smile when he hears my voice. It’s so natural when he does it too, and all I can think is isn’t that how it should be? Shouldn’t a man smile any time he sees you or hears you if he really cares about you? If he’s crazy about you? This whole moment went from disaster to perfect in the blink of an eye.
“I saw your car around the corner, parked on the side street. You tried to hide it behind the dumpster, but I could see the scratch on the bumper from where you clipped a pillar in the firm parking garage. I figured that’s where you’d try to hide it. There aren’t a lot of options. Not to mention, the shadows come out from under your door when the sun is setting through your west windows.”
“It’s so creepy that you know all that.” I smile, even as I say the words. Part of me loves that he can’t see me, but I can see him.
“I think that’s what you like about me. How obsessed I am.”
In what world would a woman smile about a man admitting he’s obsessed and practically stalking her? But here I am, doing just that.
Here it is, Mary.
Moment of truth.
I want to see his reaction when he sees me. I want to read his eyes, see what they tell me, see if I can get a peek at his real intentions.
Slowly, I turn the knob and open the door.
His eyes don’t disappoint. They say everything I want them to say. His reactions tell the whole story. He’s a confident, cocky man, but I catch the slight reaction on his face, when all the breath leaves his lungs when he sees me, and I can nearly hear his pulse quicken.
I do my best to remain calm and just stare at him, despite the fact I can hear my own heart pound in my ears. Despite the tingles that shiver down from my head to my toes, I don’t know if I’ve ever taken a man’s breath away before. Just from him looking at me the way Rick’s looking at me. That’s never been me. I’ve always been the girl at the front of the class, the last one picked for dates and social gatherings, and first for a science project or to help out at the church.
His look says it all. He thinks I’m beautiful.
And, he tells me so.
“You look incredible.” The corners of his mouth turn up as he hands me the flower arrangement, then his eyes dip down and up at the speed of light. “Got yourself all dressed up for me, didn’t you, Mary?”
I try not to blush, but I’m sure I do. It’s impossible to hide how I feel right now, especially from him. He’s a private investigator. You can’t mask your thoughts from anyone at The Hunter Group. They all read people like hawks.
The only option left is give it right back to him. “You catch on quick.”
He laughs. “Take it you found the note on your desk. It’s 6:06, I’m not wasting another minute of my time with you.”
“I haven’t said I’m going yet,” I say, as I sniff the flowers. They’re gorgeous and smell heavenly. I set them down on a small table next to the door where I always drop my keys and purse.
Rick holds out a hand in front of me. “Oh, you’re going. Come on.”
“Is that so?”
He keeps his hand out in front of him, as if it’s an invitation. I think this may be the thing I admire most about him. Sure, he’s cocky and confident and pretending to be demanding about this, but beneath the surface, his hand is out. It’s my choice, whether I want to go or not, and he knows that.
I stare at his fingers, then up to his eyes, and man, he really is hot. So hot. I wasn’t the only one who got a little dressed up for this. His hair is slicked back, and he has a dress shirt on. It stirs things inside me that shouldn’t be stirred, but I’m still a woman with the same biological urges as everyone else.
Our eyes lock for an eternity. Finally, with every ounce of sincerity I can muster, I say, “One condition.”
He sees the way I look at him, and his whole demeanor changes. “I’ll do anything, tell me what to do.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t want to say this, but it’s the only way. It’s the only way this thing can be real and not some stupid game or some ridiculous fantasy between the two of us. “I want you to be yourself.”
His eyes dart away the second I say it, and he starts to respond, but I take a step toward him and cut him off. I don’t even know who I am right now, because this is so not me to be this upfront and forceful about something. My body and mind just take over, like someone else is steering the ship.
“I want the Rick from the other night, who beat up the homeless guy, who followed me home and made sure I made it back to my apartment.”
His eyes widen.
“Yeah, I saw you. You’re not the super sleuth you think you are.”
He starts to say something, but I take another step closer to him, so that we’re inches apart, and his hand hits my stomach.
“I want the Rick everyone else gets to see. Not fake, choirboy Rick who memorizes Bible verses just to impress me. I want the real you, or there is no deal.”
His eyes burn a hole in my retinas. I don’t know what I just did or how he’s going to react, but he’s definitely showing me the real Rick right now. He looks nothing like the happy-go-lucky, carefree man who waltzes around the office. The silence is so long, I think I may have broken him. He might be catatonic.
Finally, he shakes his head just slightly. “I can’t.”
My chest squeezes tight, because it wasn’t what I expected. I thought he just said he’d do anything for a date with me. My voice might crack if I try to speak, but I go ahead anyway and barely get the words out. “Why not?”
He glances away, then his eyes fall back on mine. “I don’t want to be that guy when I’m with you. You deserve so much better than that guy.”
Under normal circumstances, I would think he was feeding me a line. But I can see the sincerity in his face, the conviction. He means every last word of it. My heart comes alive once more.
I reach down and take his hand, nodding. “Okay.”
The second our fingers touch, something in my life changes. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but life just morphs into something else. Something divine just happened. A new stage, a new era of life that now includes someone else.
All I know is, it makes me happy.
Rick pulls me down the hall, and just like that, I’m setting off on a new adventure.
Rick Lawrence
Well, fuck me. How about this right here? Mary’s riding in my car with me on our real first date. I mean sure, she’s been to weddings and company stuff with me, but it was always made abundantly clear we were attending as work colleagues.
No, the universe just bore witness to the fact that this is a date, and a consensual one at that. I have to force myself to watch the road because I just want to keep staring at her.
She’s so beautiful. I mean sure, there are tan women with fake tits and plastic surgery all over Chicago, but Mary is naturally beautiful. She tries to hide it most of the time, but it’s still there. Not tonight, though. Fuck, I want to kiss her so damn bad already.
“Where are you taking me?”
Shit, I forgot to have conversation along the way. I gotta play this off like it was on purpose. “It’s a surprise.”
“Come on, tell m
e.”
“To Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Yeah, I know that. But where are we going before? Why’s it a big secret?”
“You’ll see.” Fuck, I hope this pays off. “Think we’ll see Pastor Jeremiah tonight?” I waggle my eyebrows at her.
She grins and shakes her head. “You’re the worst.”
“Maybe he’ll have a hot date there too. We can hit a bar after the play.”
She dies laughing. I’m relieved too, because the joke just kind of slipped out. She did say she wants the real Rick, though. And that was tame-as-fuck real Rick. Probably best to ease her into my actual personality, or just completely change altogether. I think she’s actually already changed me a lot; more than she knows.
She’s laughing, though. That’s all I know, and that’s a good thing.
“What?” I give her a side eye.
“Just picturing him at a bar. Or even seeing us out together like… this.” She smiles. “I think he’d be less surprised than we are, actually.”
“You’re probably right. He’s a cool old man.”
Mary nods. “Yeah, he is.”
“I wouldn’t know him if it weren’t for you. Thanks for that.”
Mary glances over, and I wish I didn’t have to drive so I could gauge her reactions better, watch every detail about her on our date.
Finally, she blurts out, “I can’t believe you volunteer there. That’s when you really upped the whole charade.”
I laugh. I love how out in the open our conversation is right now, but she’s not wrong. Part of me, the reasonable part of my brain, has wondered what the hell is wrong with me for the past seven months. What is it that makes people do crazy shit, when they know everyone around them knows it’s not authentic, but they just keep doing it anyway to the point it alters their own reality? To where they believe the bullshit they’re putting out there? Just live in denial about it. Like someone who comes in late for work every day and pretends it’s normal and everyone else doesn’t notice.
