by Jae
Tricia watched her for a second, admiring the unselfconscious way she moved, before she made her way toward the back of the store. With a triumphant cry, she dove into a chair at the last free table. After a quick glance toward the cash register, to make sure Jennifer was busy paying for her novels, she checked her cell phone. Her battery was still at eighty percent. Good.
In about fifteen minutes, Chi Lo would call, providing her with an excuse to leave should she need it. They had done that for each other since they had met in college.
When Jennifer walked toward the coffee shop counter, carrying a bag with her purchases, she quickly put the cell phone away.
She watched her interact with the barista, ready to catalog each and every one of her flaws so she could report back to Chi Lo.
So far, she came up empty. Jennifer said something to the barista that made the woman smile—or maybe she was a generous tipper. But in a moment, the latte oracle would probably earn Jennifer her first strike. She would walk over and set a pretentious concoction on the table, just to show off her ordering finesse. Maybe a low-fat decaf latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla that should have been named Why Bother. Her last date had ordered one of those.
But when Jennifer slid two mugs onto the table, neither of them held a fancy latte—at least not the low-fat type. Both mugs were topped with whipped cream and adorned with sprinkles of dark chocolate shavings.
“I took a chance that you’re not the low-fat-sugar-free-latte type,” Jennifer said as she took the seat across from her.
“I’m not.” Tricia took a careful sip of her beverage. Yum. It was hot chocolate. She started to laugh.
“Something wrong?” Jennifer asked. “You don’t like hot chocolate?”
“I love it. It’s what I get every time I come here.”
Jennifer grinned, and for a moment, Tricia’s overactive imagination showed her flashes of Jennifer taking off her glasses, pulling the pencil out of her messy bun, and shaking her hair loose.
She fanned herself, pretending it was the beverage making her hot. “So,” she said to distract herself and get a conversation started, “do you come here often?” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Real smooth. It really had been too long since she’d been on a date. “Uh, I mean…you’re a fellow book addict, right?” She gestured to the bag of books Jennifer had put down on the table.
“Oh yeah. Some months, I think my clients should make their payments directly to the bookstore, because that’s where my money ends up anyway.”
Tricia laughed. “What did you get this time?”
Jennifer slid her mug to the side and pulled her treasures from the bag, holding each one out to Tricia.
“Trish Hoffman,” Tricia read off the cover. She put on her best poker face. “Do you like her books?”
“Well,” Jennifer traced the letters of Tricia’s pen name with her fingertip, “she can definitely write, and I love her sense of humor.”
Tricia beamed.
“But I often can’t relate to her characters,” Jennifer added. “They’re all rich, beautiful, and glamorous. None of them would be caught having hot chocolate, dressed in a hoodie.”
Tricia’s ear-to-ear grin fell. No, she admitted to herself, they probably wouldn’t. Suddenly, she wondered why not. Watching Jennifer lick a bit of whipped cream off her bottom lip was damn sexy.
“Oh.” Jennifer studied her with a concerned look. “I didn’t just insult your favorite author, did I?”
“No. I just…” Should she tell her? But that would only make things between them awkward, since she had talked about Trish Hoffman in the third person. Maybe she would tell her during their second date, should they end up having one. “I never saw it that way, but I guess you’re right.”
“So you have read her books?”
Tricia gave a vague nod. “I’ve got them all.”
“All of them? Wow. You must have quite the collection.”
“You could say that. I’d let you share them, but I never loan out books before the third date.”
Her charming grin didn’t have its intended effect. Jennifer just stared at her.
“Um, do you think that’s weird?”
“No. I’m the same. If I lend someone a book, it’s like an award of my trust.”
Was it strange that Tricia wanted to earn that award more than she wanted another literary prize?
Jennifer took a sip of her hot chocolate and let out a happy hum. She seemed entirely relaxed, with none of the nervousness or forced attempts to impress her that Tricia was used to from previous dates.
“So,” Tricia said, “tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?” The question was out before she could stop herself. Damn. What was she supposed to say if Jennifer returned the question?
“Um…” Jennifer squirmed a little.
Tricia arched her brows. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one reluctant to reveal her job.
“I’m a hypnotherapist,” Jennifer finally said.
“Oh, wow.” She had read about hypnotherapists when she had researched ways to cure her latest main character’s insomnia, but she had never actually met one. “That’s…”
“That’s what?” Jennifer prompted. She sat with her head held high, a stubborn tilt to her chin. For the first time, tension had entered her shoulders.
“Really cool. I mean, helping patients lose weight, stop smoking, or deal with anxiety… That must be pretty rewarding.”
Jennifer squinted over at her.
“Let me guess. Most people who find out what you do for a living think you make your clients flap their arms and squawk like a chicken.”
Jennifer burst out laughing.
The sound of her laughter sent tingles down Tricia’s spine and made her smile.
“Something like that,” Jennifer said. “Most people confuse hypnotherapy with a party trick or a stage act. How come you don’t?”
Without looking at her, Tricia stirred her hot chocolate. “I read a lot, so I know you don’t actually have superpowers.”
“I didn’t say that.” Jennifer’s eyes sparkled.
“True. So, what are they?”
Jennifer licked whipped cream off her spoon. “I can read minds.”
Tricia snorted into her hot chocolate. Hopefully not, or Jennifer would know how erotic she found the way she had just licked her spoon.
“What? You don’t believe me? I did guess your beverage of choice, didn’t I?”
“That you did.” Finally a woman who could hold her own when it came to banter.
Jennifer wrapped both hands around her mug as if wanting to soak up its warmth.
Amused, Tricia watched her huddle down in her hoodie, even though it was June and a pleasant seventy-two degrees outside. “What happens in winter?” she asked with a nod toward Jennifer’s warmth-seeking hands.
“I go into hibernation,” Jennifer answered without missing a beat.
Tricia couldn’t remember when she had last laughed so much on a date.
“How about you?”
“No hibernation for me.” Tricia playfully batted her lashes. “I’m naturally hot-blooded.”
“No, I meant…what do you do for a living?”
“Oh. Um, I…” The ringing of her cell phone saved her from having to answer. Chi Lo’s name flashed across the screen. Was there a word that described being grateful and resenting a person at the same time? She could fake an emergency and leave without revealing her identity.
But truth be told, she didn’t want to go, so she left-swiped to reject the call and slid the phone back into her pocket. “I don’t normally reveal my job before the third date either,” she said with what she hoped was a charming grin.
“Let me guess… It involves superpowers too.”
Tricia thought of the T-shirt she had worn earlier today. “Oh yeah. Lots and lots of them.”
Jennifer lifted her mug. “To jobs with superpowers.”
They clinked their mugs against e
ach other.
The barista cleared her throat next to them. “Excuse me, ladies. We’re about to close.”
Tricia looked up. The coffee shop was deserted, and the staff had already flipped up the chairs on the tables surrounding theirs. Wow. When had that happened?
Jennifer stared at her, apparently just as amazed at how fast time had flown by while they had talked about books, their families, and college adventures. “Sorry. We should be going.”
They stood and made their way through the empty bookstore to the exit.
Outside, Jennifer—Jen, as she had told Tricia to call her—shivered a little, making Tricia smile. She wished she had worn a jacket so she could offer it to her. Next time, she’d come prepared. There would be a next time, no doubt about it.
“So…,” they both said at the same time and bobbed up and down on the balls of their feet, then smiled at each other.
“Want to give me your number?” Jen lowered her gaze to the ground before looking back up with a grin. “To discuss the possible loan of my books, you know?” She hefted the bag with her purchases.
“Why don’t I call you? I’ve already got your number from Sarah.”
Jen’s brow knitted. “You do?”
Tricia nodded and tapped her phone. “Yep.”
“Well, then…”
They looked at each other.
Should she kiss her? Her characters probably would have. But Jen had said she couldn’t relate to her characters, so she opted for a quick hug instead.
Jen smelled like hot chocolate, books, and honey shampoo. She shivered a little, but Tricia couldn’t tell whether it was from the evening air or their physical closeness.
She stepped back. “I had a great time. Now go home before you freeze to death.”
Jen laughed. “Me too. Talk to you soon.” With a soft touch to Tricia’s arm, she walked away, a spring in her step and cheerfully swinging her bag.
Tricia watched her retreating back until Jen disappeared around a corner. Her phone started to ring. She fumbled it out of her pocket.
“How did it go?” Chi Lo asked without a greeting.
“Great!” For once, she didn’t have to fake an enthusiastic response.
“Nuh-uh. I know what you are doing. You think if you pretend to like her, I won’t set you up on another blind date anytime soon. Let me guess… Jenny was a complete bore and about as entertaining as cleaning out your cat’s litter box.”
“What? No!” Tricia scowled at the now dimly lit bookstore, surprised at how defensive of Jen she already felt. “She was…she was…wonderful. She reads more than I do, has a wicked sense of humor, and gets cold when it’s seventy-two degrees outside. It’s the cutest thing ever.”
Only silence filtered through the line. Then came Chi Lo’s suspicious voice. “You’re not shitting me, are you?”
“No. We really hit it off. I’m definitely going to call her and ask her out on a second date.”
“Huh,” Chi Lo murmured. “Just when I thought I’d spend my evening listening to you whine about your horrible blind date.”
“Nope. No whining this time.” She started walking in the direction of her car, which was parked two blocks away. “Hey, Chi Lo? Have you ever thought my characters might be a little too…flashy? Too unrealistic?”
Chi Lo paused. “Uh, it’s fiction, right?”
“Yeah, but I still want readers to be able to relate to them.” Readers like Jen. “I’m thinking of rewriting my work in progress a little. Do you think it would work if I make Corey into a psychologist or a social worker or something?”
“What? She’s a millionaire. Why would she have to work? Are you drunk?”
Tricia grinned. “Maybe a little high from all the hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate?”
“I’ll tell you the details later.” Once they had said goodbye, Tricia unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel. She put the phone down on the passenger seat and stared at it for a moment. How long did she have to wait until she could call Jen for a second date without appearing desperate?
Just as Tricia walked into her house, her phone rang again. Apparently, Chi Lo didn’t want to wait to find out the details of her date. She grinned and slid her finger across the screen.
“I’m on to you!” Chi Lo said, again not bothering with a hello. “Tell me the truth. You didn’t even set foot into the bookstore, did you?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Of course I was there. They had to kick us out when they were closing.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, me and Jen.”
“The Jen who just called Sarah to apologize for standing you up?”
“What? Now who is drunk?”
Chi Lo sucked in an audible breath and released it slowly. “Do you swear by…by your shiny awards and everything else you writer types hold sacred that you met with a woman in the bookstore?”
“Of course I did. You were the one who set us up, remember?”
“What did Jenny look like? Is she tall, thin, blonde, and blue-eyed?”
Tricia closed her eyes as she imagined Jen’s face and body. “Nah. Her hair is so dark that it’s almost black. She’s got curves in all the right places, and her eyes make me think of the richest chocolate.”
“Check your e-mail,” Chi Lo said. “I just sent you a photo of Jenny.”
Tricia moved the phone away from her ear to open her e-mail app. Some blonde grinned at her from a photo that had clearly been taken in Sarah’s living room. What the…? “That’s not Jen.”
“That’s Jenny, the woman you were supposed to meet at the bookstore.”
Her knees turned into paper-mache. Tricia plopped down onto the couch. “Then who did I spend the evening with?”
Chi Lo chuckled. “Some unsuspecting stranger with a fondness for Karin Kallmaker novels.”
Tricia lay in bed and stared at the dark ceiling. In front of her mind’s eye, every second of her date…or what she had thought was a date…replayed in slow motion. God, now she understood why Jen had looked so confused when she had asked her to have coffee with her and when she had joked about their third date.
She rubbed her face with both hands, then suddenly had to smile. Their first meeting made for an amazing story. What were the chances of another woman named Jennifer browsing the LGBT section at the exact time Tricia was supposed to meet with her blind date? If she focused, she could already hear Jen’s laughter when she told that incredible tale.
But to do that, she had to find her first.
Determined, she swung her legs out of bed and hurried to her laptop. It couldn’t be so hard to find a hypnotherapist named Jennifer, could it?
Two hours later, she had an answer to that question.
There was no hypnotherapist by the name of Jennifer, Jenny, or Jen in the entire city, at least not one that she could find. Had Jen lied about her job too?
She shook her head. No. Jen had seemed so genuine.
Maybe she had only recently set up her practice and didn’t have a website or any other information online yet.
She had called Sarah earlier, but her friend didn’t know anyone working as a hypnotherapist. The Sarah Jen was friends with clearly wasn’t the one Tricia knew.
Damn, this is all so unbelievable. If I tried to use it in a story, my editor would tell me my plot wasn’t realistic.
The screen blurred before her eyes. She clicked the laptop shut and trudged back to bed, trying not to think about how Jen would feel when days, then weeks went by without a call from her.
No. Don’t give up. Her characters always fought for their happy ending, and so would she. Think. What would the characters in her novels do?
An idea popped into her mind. That’s it!
In her second novel, a romantic suspense, her fictional detective had solved a murder case because the suspect had paid for duct tape with his credit card, enabling her to find out his name and address—and if she wasn’t mistaken, Jen had paid for her
books and their first round of hot chocolates with her credit card too.
First thing tomorrow morning, she would head to The Booklover’s Lair and beg the clerk or the barista to give her Jen’s full name.
The bookstore clerk at the register stared at her as if she had just demanded he hand over all the money instead of merely a customer’s last name.
“I swear I’m not a stalker.” Tricia leaned closer to make sure no one could overhear her. “Look, this woman and I…we went on a date right here in the store, and I’d love to see her again, but I, um, I’ve got the wrong number, and I can’t find her without her last name. Do you really want to stand in the way of true love?”
Okay, that was maybe a bit over the top, but she was getting desperate. She had been begging and pleading with him for ten minutes, and she hadn’t been any more successful with the barista. Clearly, finding a person via their credit card purchases was easier if you could flash a badge or a court order, like her fictional detective.
The clerk gave her a blank look. “We can’t give out private customer data, ma’am.”
Unromantic bastard. “What if I—?”
“Is there a problem?” someone asked from behind her.
She turned and came face-to-face with the store’s manager. Damn. “Oh, hi, Mr. Ashby.”
“This lady wants us to—”
Tricia interrupted the clerk with a glare. “Thanks. I’ll ask him myself.” If she wanted the bookstore to keep carrying her books, she needed to act like a professional, not make the manager think she was a lunatic who bothered his customers.
She tugged Mr. Ashby out of earshot. “Um, I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Trish Hoffman. I’m a local author.”
“Oh yeah. I remember. My wife loves your books.”
His wife read lesbian fiction? She stared at him.
“So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”
Tricia’s mind raced as she tried to come up with something. “I, uh, was wondering…um…”
An understanding smile spread over his face. “You want me to set up an author reading for you.”
Shit. She hated reading in front of audiences. But it was the only way out. “Um, yes. Yes. That’s it. A reading. Of course, I’ll understand if it’s just not possible at the moment. After all, my genre won’t draw a big crowd, and you need to keep an eye on the bottom line.”
