by C. M. Lally
His eyes are still striking. Today they look grayish-green, but clear all the same. He must have been up late because I can see red streaks running through them, but I guess he’s up late every night in this line of work.
“So, what brings you all the way across the street to me today?” he asks. “The commute must have been awful with the heavy traffic.” He laughs at his own jokes. He’s a funny jerk. Great!
“I came to call a truce. I’d like to take you to lunch to discuss getting our businesses on the same page again. I’d like to maintain the business that we fought for. Surely we can find some common ground to allow that to happen,” I suggest in earnest.
“So, you got in trouble,” he says nonchalantly.
“No, I didn’t get in trouble,” I exclaim. “I just don’t like losing things that are mine. It reflects poorly on my character, and for a young, single woman in the business world, character and reputation is all I have."
“So, you don’t need my business to save your ass?” he asks.
“Wow, you’re a cocky bastard,” I snap. ”Does that usually get you very far in life?” Tension instantly fills up the space between us. Why does he taunt me the way he does? He brings out the competitor in me, and I’ve got a fuel fire of mixed emotions running through me. I pray to God he doesn’t have a match or we’re both going up in flames.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, raising his eyebrow and smirking at me with my own words from yesterday. “And my father may not be around, but never doubt that I know who he is.”
I stand suddenly, realizing that I’m not accomplishing what I came here for. It’s worse. I grab the strap of my bag and throw it over my arm spinning out from between the two stools. How did this go so wrong so quickly?
“I’m sorry but I can’t continue this today. I came here to thank you for the flowers and to possibly start over with the best of intentions, but those have all gone to hell. Maybe we both need time away from each other to cool off,” I advise. “We obviously bring out the worst in each other, and that doesn’t bode well for our professional relationship.
He smiles, goading me on. He makes me second guess myself constantly: my actions, thoughts, words and feelings. I don’t like the way he sets me on fire. “If that’s how you feel, then so be it,” he chimes, fiddling with the paper napkin holder.
I take a few steps and hear him call my name. “Ava,” he says, “you’re still beautiful, but you’re stunningly gorgeous when you’re mad.” I turn slightly to look at him. He’s not laughing or teasing, but stoic and serious. Within seconds, a wide smile breaks across his face, and I don’t know if I can believe his words or not. He’s goading me. Again.
“You’re an ass,” I holler back to him over the music playing. More than a few people turn their heads and look. Some of them were close enough to watch the whole ugly mess unfold. I turn and run, dodging past people as quickly as I can. Hot tears burn my cheeks. I bump into a tall man who asks me if I’m okay. It’s the same deep voice that saw me crying yesterday. Oh, great! He’ll run and tell on me again.
I hate tattle-tales!
Chapter 5 – Dante
FUCK. I WATCH HER BUMP into Thiago again. He’s gonna have my ass on a platter.
“Dante, what the fuck is going on between you two?” he roars at me. “That’s the second and last time I bump into her crying. Never, ever fight on the floor again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Thiago,” I drone. “It started out playful enough. I was teasing her about yesterday, and suddenly she got all righteous on me. I can’t help it that her tears fall easily.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that not everybody likes to be teased?” he asks. “Some people actually take life seriously.”
“Why?” I ask, completely annoyed with that line of thinking. “Life was meant to be enjoyed, and that means laughing...especially at yourself.” I twist the stool around to face him.
“Your youth and ignorance of the world will be your downfall. Stop thinking the world revolves around the philosophy of Dante. Life sucks for most people and they’re just trying to find a way to survive,” he rants. He narrows his eyes in disappointment at me. “Fix this, again.”
Fuck. I don’t even know how to fix it this time. Flowers won’t work on a second mistake in less than 24-hours. Tito comes over to take away her glass of water. The light shimmers through her lipstick imprint on the glass, and my heart clenches. “Damnit. She drives me crazy!” I exclaim.
“That’s usually a sign,” Tito remarks, wiping down the bar next to me.
“Sign of what?” I ask, “That I’m crazy for letting her get to me?”
“No. A sign that you’ve got some kind of invisible string that pulls you together. She’s gotten deeper than you meant her to get,” he rambles, not making much sense to me.
“Invisible string, huh?” I inquire. I’m not being strung along by this chick. She’s too bossy and opinionated for me. “I guess I need an invisible pair of scissors to cut her loose.”
“You fight it too hard. And that tells me you’re going to fall the hardest of all,” he says, laughing loudly as he walks away.
“I only fall in lust, not love,” I holler. He looks back at me over his shoulder and smirks. Several of the men at the bar shout out in agreement with unifying “Yes’s” and “Amen’s”.
I head back to my apartment, thinking about what Tito said. It’s almost time to report to work, but first, I need to eat and change clothes since Thiago doesn’t like us working in jeans. I jump in the shower, attempting to wake up more and de-fog my brain. She already had me up most of the night, and then she shows up early sending Claryssa to wake me up.
When I closed my eyes last night to sleep, her face was branded to the back of my eyelids. All of those images of her big brown eyes and full pink lips had me tossing and turning. I even dreamed we were at a football game together. I don’t know where that came from...must have been a picture I saw but don’t remember.
Maybe Tito is right— I’ve let her sink into me— I mean I practically memorized her college volleyball stats and one of her employee of the month speeches that I found on Google. But the sad part is I don’t even know why I did those things.
It’s not like there are steps to re-trace to question my words— they occurred in the heat of the moment. And I can’t go back and change our first introduction. She thinks I’m an A-1 asshole, and that bothers me. I’ve never really cared what anyone thought of me since I already knew everyone was talking about me and my brothers. Those poor Solis boys. Living with their scandalous father and seeing only God knows what. They’re probably going to end up in jail. Well, look at us now, haters.
No, I can’t go back and change my past, but I can apologize and start all over. Ava is a romantic; she’ll give me a second chance, well actually—a third chance, to make a first impression.
Hurrying to finish my shower and get dressed, I exit the back of my apartment and skip across the alleyway to CVI.CHE 105. I’ve already done the flower thing. Now, I’ll try winning her over with great Peruvian food and a fabulous chocolate dessert. After all, she was planning on taking me to lunch, and now that I’ve ruined it with my big mouth, this should make it all better.
Walking into the restaurant, I see the manager standing off to the side evaluating the dining area and I stroll over to her. All I can think to do is explain my problem to her (well, the shortened version) and pray she’s a romantic soul too. Females usually fall for the Solis charm that I exude— every female except Ava. Just as I start to tell my story of what happened, she pulls out a menu and starts writing down an order for two that will be “simply lush and sensual to bring her back to you” as she says.
Within twenty minutes, she has me hooked up with two bags full of hot and cold boxes that look like they would feed an army. And the best part, all at no charge. I kiss her cheek and promise her passes to the club for this huge favor. See, the Solis charm gets ‘em every time.
“May I help you?” she asks, continuing to twirl her hair in her fingers. She’s chewing gum and pops a small bubble while waiting for my reply.
“Um, yes. I’m here to see Ava Kimball. I believe she’s in the sales and marketing department,” I smile wide with sincerity in return, silently begging her with my eyes that she’ll just tell me where her office is and let me be on my way. But with security being what it should be these days, I doubt that’s going to happen.
She glances down and immediately starts typing on the keyboard; I assume looking up her number or sending her a message.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but her IM says she’s away from her office,” she informs me, sputtering. “But I thought I saw her come back in. Rushing actually...through the doors on her way to the elevators. Maybe I’m wrong.”
“Could you please check to make sure?” I plead. “We were supposed to have lunch and I said something I didn’t mean. She’s upset with me. I really want to take back my words and surprise her with this lunch before it gets cold.”
“Aww. That’s so sweet of you. What a great boyfriend!” she says, mumbling something about teaching her boyfriend lessons under her breath. I don’t correct her about our relationship because right now, it might get me what I want: lunch with Ava.
She picks up the phone and dials someone. “Marie, could you do me a quick favor?” and I hear the other person briefly respond through the phone receiver. “Thank you. Could you please walk over and just see if Ava is at her desk? Please don’t say anything to her though. I have a surprise for her, but I need to know she’s there.” She winks at me, as she says those last words, and we wait. I swear I can hear the tick tock of the clock, just like on Jeopardy. After a short minute, the voice comes back on the line and I can hear her say, “Yes, she’s in there.” Whew. Thank God!
“Thanks, Marie. I appreciate it. Yes, have a great day too,” she says before hanging up. She stands and points in the direction of the elevators “Take the elevator up to the fifth floor. Turn right off the elevator, and she’s the...one, two, three, four, fifth office down on the left,” she says counting out the offices like there’s an invisible map hanging between us.
“Thank you. I promise, this good deed will come back to you,” I blurt out as I rush to catch the elevator with hearing it ding. “Hold the elevator please?” I holler out to the person inside.
The ride to the fifth floor is smooth. The smells of the boxed food are wafting around in the confined space and I see the older gentlemen eyeing my bags. “Are you feeding an army?’ he asks.
“No, just one upset lady. I hope she’ll forgive me after this feast,” I say, my words coming out shaky. Anxiety is rising up in me, as the bell dings and the doors open to my floor.
“Well, they say the way to the heart is through the stomach,” he laughs and winks before the doors close him in again.
I make the right off the elevator and immediately see the doors leading down the hallway. It’s so quiet; you could probably hear a pin drop on the carpet. The bags rustling as I carry them is the loudest noise on the floor. I grip them tighter to quiet them. The first few offices are empty as I pass them. At least no one will see me and give my surprise away.
The fifth door down is slightly ajar. Good. She won’t see me approach and I’ll still have surprise on my side. I just pray she doesn’t have any sharp objects to hurl at me in there. I jostle the bags from one hand to another and knock on the door.
“Come in,” I hear her say. Her sweet melodic voice washes over me, and suddenly I’m excited to be here. My nerves vanish, but within the blink of an eye, I feel bad for not giving her the break that she requested back in the club. I elbow the door open with a new resolve; I’m here and I might as well make the best of it.
“Hi Ava,” I say a bit too cheery and loud. I watch her startle and look up at me. “I know. I know. If I had time, I would have stopped and gotten a white flag to wave, but I think you’re a reasonable woman and will forgive me as soon as you see what I’ve brought you.” The bags make a loud thud on the credenza in her office as I set them down.
Her eyes roll with mockery at me, as she pushes her chair back from the desk and stands. “Have you come to argue with me on my home turf?” she asks. “Because I’ve got friends that will gladly escort you out of here if I ask them to.”
I ignore her slight rant and begin taking the boxes out of the bags. The aromas waft again in the air, but are much stronger here in her office. She eyes each container as I open the lids—curiosity getting the best of her as I watch her raise up on her tiptoes to see what’s inside the Styrofoam box marked ‘Chocolate Ganache Cheesecake’. “Mmmmm Mmmmm, dessert,” I tease, lowering the lid back down so she can’t see inside.
“And I have no doubt you would call them, but I have a white truce flag flying high, albeit an invisible one, and we are going to sit and partake of this lovely meal while mixing business and pleasure,” I inform her. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it, baby. And to ensure it’s a great meal, we are going to start with dessert, because there is only one way to guarantee I have room for it...and that’s to eat it first!”
I hold my hand out to her. She narrows her eyes, giving me a look of distrust, but takes my hand anyway after a brief internal battle of will that played across her face like a movie. Stepping forward and moving around her desk, I guide her to the empty visitor chair in her office. I slide the side table holding her Zen water fountain in between the two chairs, and begin to serve her dessert.
Her eyes go as round as saucers when she sees the chocolate cheesecake covered in Ganache and decorated with chopped hazelnuts and broken Oreo pieces peeking out from inside the box. There are little tufts of chocolate mousse rosettes rimming the edge of the crust. She dips her finger into the mousse, and time slows as I watch her stick that finger between her lips, tasting the ecstasy that is chocolate and cream. Her eyelids drift close dreamily in reverence, and when they open again her soul smiles at me.
I’ve never in my life seen anyone look more beautiful.
I’m speechless.
Chapter 6 – Ava
HE’S LOOKING AT ME funny. Like I have chocolate on my face or something. I can’t stand not knowing if I’m making a fool out of myself, so I give up and ask, “Do I have chocolate on my face?,” I ask, wiping away the corners of my lips but I don’t feel any crumbs. He raises an eyebrow to me, giving a quizzical look, but he can’t respond because his mouth is full of cheesecake. “You keep staring at me like I do.”
“No,” he assures me, swallowing the remaining piece. “I was enjoying watching you devour your dessert.”
“Now I need a gallon of milk to wash all that chocolate down,” I admit.
“I don’t have any milk. Sorry. The restaurant did give us two waters. Here,” he says, twisting the lid off mine and handing it to me. He’s being such a gentleman. Is this a trick?
“Sorry if I was unladylike,” I offer. “Chocolate is an indulgence that I rarely give in to. So when I do, it’s thoroughly enjoyed.” I close the container and set down my plastic fork. He quickly grabs my garbage, placing it back into the bag it came out of. He’s a neat freak. That’s an admirable quality in a man, quite rare and surprising.
“Okay. Let’s see what’s in the main course boxes, shall we?” he asks, shuffling the bags around and pulling out two very large Styrofoam boxes. One is marked beef anticuchos, and the other is marked salmon ceviche. He sets them down and digs back in, pulling out several small containers marked green rice and roasted aji amarillo dipping sauce. He finally sits down and asks, “Do you want to split the two meals so that
we both get a sample of each?”
“Yes, that’s a great idea,” I agree. This food has my mouth watering, and if I have to wait one more minute to eat it, I’m really going to be unladylike. I’m not above scooping rice into my mouth with my hands. He separates a little of both meals into each container, adds rice to each one, and gives us each a heaping dollop of the yellow sauce. It smells divine and I inhale deeply as the steam rises from the beef.
It’s delicious! As I chew, my feet do a little happy dance; tap, tap, tapping on the carpet. He notices my feet and grins, but now I’m embarrassed and stop.
“Did you try the yellow sauce?” he asks. “Dip the beef in it. It’s amazing.”
I do as he instructs, dipping it in tentatively and swirling it about to absorb some of the sauce. I pop the beef into my mouth, grazing my teeth on the fork and savoring every minute of the creamy sauce seeping into my taste buds. He’s right; it’s amazing. I scoop up a small bite of the green rice onto my fork and taste it next. Delicious. I jab my fork at another bite of the beef, dunking it into the sauce this time and not even bothering to let any of it drip off the beef before chewing it heartily.
I reach for my water and take a long cool sip. Perspiration has started to form on my upper lip. Letting out a slight cough and clearing my throat to talk. “You’re right. That is amazing,” I admit. I take another sip of my water. “It’s a little spicy, that’s for sure. Do you like spicy foods?”
“I’m Portuguese. I love anything hot and spicy,” he says, winking at me with that charming smile. It’s a little crooked, and I can see a slight dimple forming in his cheek. All of a sudden, he sets his food down and moves toward me. “Are you okay?”
