He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at me, an intoxicating smile that made his green eyes sparkle. “It was my fault. That’s why they usually keep me behind the bar.”
I smiled at him.
“God, look at your dress.” He grabbed the towel that was hanging from his belt. “I probably ruined it.” He acted like he was about to start dabbing my dress with his towel, but I grabbed it from him, my hand touching his slightly as I took it. Just touching him made me feel a charge.
“That’s OK. It’s just…fabric,” I told him, thinking that was a dumb thing to say.
As I looked down, I realized that my sheer lingerie was exposing me through the soaked dress, like I was part of a wet t-shirt contest. I think he noticed too, since he stared down at me for a moment then cleared his throat before he looked back up again.
The other wait staff rushed around us to help clean up the mess, and he began helping them. Monica and Veronica were also at my side, asking me if I was OK. Veronica asked another waitress if we could get our salads to go as Monica grabbed our things and led me toward the front door. I looked back at the waiter, who was still kneeled down, picking up glass. Once we were outside waiting for Veronica to get our to-go boxes, we looked at each other and burst out laughing.
I shook my head. “I’m such a klutz! Poor guy. I hope he doesn’t get reprimanded. I’m sure I ruined his day.”
“I don’t know. Not by the way he was eyeing you in that dress,” Monica said.
I threw out my hand. “I’m too old for him.”
“He wasn’t looking at you like you’re too old for him.”
Suddenly the waiter came rushing out. “I am so sorry again. Please let me repay you somehow,” he insisted, piercing me with his green eyes again as he looked deep into mine.
“It’s OK, really. It’s an old dress.”
He let out a deep breath, now knowing what to say next. “OK. I just hope you’ll be brave enough to come back sometime.”
I smiled at him. “I will.”
He kept staring at me for a moment. “OK, well, I better go back in. I hope the rest of your day goes better.”
I laughed. “You too.”
Veronica looked at him with curiosity as she passed him through the doorway.
“He feels really bad,” I told her.
“He also can’t keep his eyes off of Sarah,” said Monica.
I quickly stopped the topic. “Can one of you drive me to my car, please? So I can go home and change?”
“I’ll drive you,” said Veronica.
“OK. I’ll see you two later then,” said Monica, sad that our lunch ended so suddenly.
She thanked Veronica for the salad and kissed us goodbye on the cheek.
“I don’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I told Jessica.
“You’re doing good!” she said breathlessly as she jumped up and twirled around the silver pole like it was as easy as walking.
I could only barely mimic her movements. A pole dancing class? Was I insane?
As the music slowed down, she slinked around in a circle then lowered herself down the pole seductively, only to pull herself pack up again, turn around, and slide back down. She looked incredibly sexy in her platform heels and long, wavy blonde hair that she threw around.
“Are you sure you weren’t an exotic dancer before I hired you? I didn’t see it on your resume,” I told her.
She threw her head back and laughed. “I promise I wasn’t.”
She walked over to me and tried to help me with my moves. My muscles ached. I had to agree that it was great exercise. I felt completely awkward, but it was certainly doing the trick.
“I feel like an idiot,” I reiterated.
“Why? I can see that you’re improving,” she said with encouragement as she helped lead my movements.
“Haven’t you noticed by now that I’m clumsy?”
She laughed. “Like when you crashed into the waiter?”
I chuckled and shook my head. Finally, the song ended, and I realized that our session was over as well. I quickly grabbed my towel and started gulping my water. “At least it helps get this body in shape.”
“Like you need to. You have no idea how hot you are.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You just have to let go of your inhibitions, and then it will come naturally. It’s kind of like sex,” she winked. Suddenly, she grabbed her phone as it started beeping, and then she laughed as she read a text message. “Speaking of…I’m meeting Aaron later.” She grinned with excitement.
“OK, well, have fun. I’ll see you in the morning. Do things I wouldn’t do,” I joked, causing her to throw her head back in laughter again. “But be careful!” I added. Surely I sounded so much like a mother.
“I will. See ya in the morning,” she waved as she headed out the door.
It was drizzling outside when I left. I drove home slowly, stopping for a take-out salad on the way. Something meaty and greasy just didn’t feel right after a good workout.
I sat down in front of the TV with my cat, catching up on the shows I had recorded while I ate. After a while, I decided to take a nice, long bubble bath to relax. I was still wound up from the class. I put on some acoustic rock music and was about to climb in before I stopped to peek at myself in the mirror. I took a good look at my body, something I didn’t do too often. There was no denying that I wasn’t as firm as I used to be, but maybe Jessica had a point. I could look a lot worse at my age, and I did notice the cute waiter checking me out after I was drenched with beer.
Perhaps I just needed to learn to loosen up more, like Jessica suggested. I let my hair down and practiced one of our moves from class, letting my mirror be the judge as I tried to look seductive, and then I laughed at myself and climbed into the tub.
I spent the next week interviewing part-timers for the gallery. It was exhausting. There were at least a couple of good prospects who seemed to be genuinely interested in the business and would strive to do a good job. The rest were mostly art students who gave me the impression that they chose to major in art because they simply had no other aspirations and thought that it would be easy.
After the last interview, which lasted until nearly 7:00 PM on a Friday, I was completely spent. I sprawled out on the gallery sofa and rubbed my temples.
“Thank God that’s over,” said Patrick.
I was too tired to answer.
“Wake up,” he said, shaking my knee. “I was going to ask you if you want to join me for a bite to eat.”
“Oh, thanks. I don’t want to be out long, but I am starving. Maybe something nearby.”
“Sure. I’m up for about anything. I might even splurge and eat some meat tonight,” he said. He was thin and health conscious, but he didn’t take it to the extreme.
“Hmm, well, Bamberger’s is close, and you can get a good steak there,” I suggested, embarrassed that I felt my heart flutter at the thought.
“Oh yeah. I’ve been wanting to try that place. Didn’t you eat there last week?”
“Yeah, I…got the steak salad. Just let me go freshen up, and I’ll be ready.”
When we arrived at Bamberger’s, the place was completely packed. We were told that it would be a good thirty minutes before we could get a table.
“That sucks,” said Patrick. “We can go somewhere else.”
“Oh no. That’s OK.” I suddenly felt revitalized as I looked around the restaurant. “I see a couple of seats at the bar.”
We grabbed two seats immediately and shamelessly as two people emptied them.
“This place is hoppin’, so it must be pretty good,” said Patrick.
I barely heard him speaking as my eyes scanned the wait staff. What the hell was I doing? I quickly gazed down and began looking at the drinks menu, commenting to Patrick on what sounded good, laughing at the crazy names of the cocktails. “Well, since I’m missing Paris, I think I’ll have a French Kiss,” I said to Patrick.
“Very
good choice,” he said, only ‘he’ was not Patrick.
I looked up to see my former waiter standing in front of me tending the bar. He was smiling brightly, with his sexy eyes glistening. He looked even better than I remembered. His skin was glowing too, like he’d been kissed by the sun.
“Nice to see you again,” he said.
I was surprised that he remembered me. Then again, he probably didn’t spill drinks on someone every day.
“Oh, hey. How are you?” I asked. I could feel myself blushing while I tried to play it cool.
“Good, thanks. I’m glad you were brave enough to come back.”
I laughed, trying not to over-giggle. He glanced at Patrick, having noticed we were together, so he explained to him, “I spilled a drink on her last week.”
“It was my fault, though,” I said, smiling and trying again to persuade him.
Patrick didn’t miss a beat. My demeanor always gave me away, and he could read me like a book. He smirked at me, and I tried to ignore him.
“Well, your drinks are on the house at least. You still want the French Kiss?” he asked, trying not to smile.
“Sure. That sounds good,” I replied, biting my lip.
He looked at Patrick. “And you, sir?”
“Gin and Tonic. Thanks.”
Our bartender nodded and walked away.
Patrick continued to stare at me, smiling for a moment before he spoke. “So that’s why you wanted to come back?”
I rolled my eyes. “The food is pretty good here.”
“I’m sure it is. The bartender looks pretty good too.”
I threw out my hand as if to dismiss his comment, just has our bartender was about to set our drinks in front of us. I nearly knocked my drink out of his hand, and he laughed.
“We’re bound to collide again!” he said.
“She’s very clumsy,” interrupted Patrick. “You ought to see her at work.”
The bartender just smiled.
Patrick added, “We’re colleagues…just colleagues.”
I shot a look at Patrick to warn him, while he just smiled and winked at me.
“So, where do you work?” the bartender asked us while he continued to mix drinks. My eyes finally left his face long enough to notice his name tag, which read ‘Dylan’.
I finally found my voice again. “At an art gallery nearby. It’s called Sarah’s Collections.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen it. So, you’re Sarah,” he said, staring at me.
I nodded and introduced him to Patrick as well. Funny how he assumed I was Sarah. I could have just been an employee.
“And you’re Dylan,” I said.
He looked surprised that I knew his name, and then he quickly realized I had seen his name tag. “Yeah. I keep forgetting I have this on,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.
Just then I heard the hostess call us for our table. I tried to hide my disappointment. “Looks like our table’s ready. That was quick.”
I thought that Dylan looked disappointed too, but then he was back to business. “We have excellent service here,” he said with a grin. “It was nice to meet you, Sarah, officially. Enjoy your French Kiss.”
“I will. Thanks,” I said, smiling back at him.
Patrick was whispering in my ear as soon as we walked away. “He’s really into you.”
I shook my head. “I’m too old for him.”
“How could you not notice how he was looking at you?”
“Well, you were practically throwing me at him.”
“You need a boost sometimes, especially with the way he was flirting.”
“He probably just wanted a good tip.”
I suddenly gasped, realizing that I forgot to leave him one. I started to turn around, but Patrick stopped me.
“I gave him plenty…along with your business card.” He smirked at me again.
I playfully punched him in the arm like I was mad, but my pulse went up at the thought of being pursued by Dylan.
33. Dylan
“Dude, you can stop staring at her now. We’re slammed in case you haven’t noticed,” said Jake, my co-worker and roommate, who was never reluctant to speak his mind. He managed to break me out of my trance as I watched Sarah walking away.
“I know,” I said, before I placed drinks on the tray that the waitress was impatiently holding.
Jake continued to talk to me while we worked. “So you know her? She’s pretty hot.”
I couldn’t help smiling in agreement. “She was here last week.” I didn’t mention my drink spilling incident again.
“She single?”
“I think so. Hope so actually. Apparently the guy just works with her. He left me her business card.”
“That guy plays for the other team, I think.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Cause you kept looking at her.”
I laughed a little. Was I making a fool of myself?
“She was into you too, don’t worry,” Jake assured me.
“What makes you say that?”
“Her eyes,” he said, as if it were blatantly obvious.
We worked until about 1:00 AM, hustling the whole time. It had been our busiest night since the restaurant opened. I didn’t want to complain, though. I was grateful for the work.
Despite our exhaustion, Jake tried to convince me to go hang out with most of the other wait staff after we closed. I declined. I wasn’t in the mood for another night of drinking in a pot-filled room with another waitress trying to flirt with me. I refused to date my co-workers. I knew it worked out sometimes, but mostly it led to complications and a crappy work environment. Therefore, my answer was no. I would pass. I told him that I just wanted to go to bed. Only that was not the whole truth. It was because of Sarah.
My whole day had already been long and aggravating until I saw her sitting at the bar. I knew who she was immediately, and I practically knocked Jake over so I could be the one to serve her. Even though I had idiotically ruined her dress, she never acted angry about it. On the contrary, she seemed happy to see me again.
I wondered if she had come to Bamberger’s just to see me, but I quickly dismissed the thought. This was a sophisticated, somewhat older woman, not like the young waitresses who were always trying to get my attention. However, after we started talking, I was beginning to think that she really was interested. Jake noticed it too, so it wasn’t my imagination.
I continued to think about nothing but Sarah as I finally lay on my bed, trying to fall asleep. I had never been so immediately attracted to a woman. All I could see was her face, that body, her smile. I had to see her again.
34. Rendezvous
“I love it,” said the woman. “At a faraway glance one would think that it’s abstract, but then you look closer, and you can see what is conveyed. It has a French feel to it.”
I stayed silent and allowed her to take it in. She studied all of the paintings in my gallery, but kept coming back to this one. It was one of the paintings by an artist in Paris that was one of my favorites, and it was expensive, but she looked like she could afford it.
“I’ll take it,” she said, turning to me with a smile.
“Excellent.” I tried to stay calm, but I wanted to jump up and down.
Just then I heard the little bell to alert us of someone coming in the door. I hated the bell, but we needed it to prevent theft when we had to run to the back room. I quickly turned around, my heart jumping at the sight. It was him. I felt my face turn red, but I had to hide my nervousness while in the middle of a sale.
He spotted me immediately and smiled. He looked great of course, better even, out of uniform in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked rested up, and like he had just showered. He looked really good.
Jessica was behind the counter and perked up as soon as she saw him, but she noticed that his attention was on me when he walked in. Seeing that I was busy, he didn’t walk toward me, but began looking at the artwork. Jessica looked at m
e and motioned that I should bring the lady to her.
I shook hands with the customer, thanking her and reiterating how much I was sure she would enjoy the painting in her new condo. I took it over to Jessica to ring her up.
I slowly walked over to Dylan, trying not to show my anxiety. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He smiled at me brightly and then looked around the room. “Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks. It’s my second home.”
“Are any of these yours?” he asked, nodding toward the artwork.
“Some of them. I drew this one.” I pointed to the drawing to our right. I drew it while I was in Paris. It was an older woman, probably in her 50’s, very stylish, sitting outside at the café smoking a cigarette. There was a look in her eyes that I remembered distinctly, a sadness that I wanted to capture.
He walked over to the drawing, staring at it intensely before he spoke. “Wow, you’re really good. This woman has sorrow. Probably not everyone can see it, but you were able to portray it well. It’s like you can see her soul.”
I was astonished by his description and his choice of words. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “So, are you looking to buy?”
“Uh…” He chuckled nervously. “Really I came here to see you,” he said with a low voice, since sound travelled easily in my little gallery.
My heart skipped a beat again. I bit my lip as I smiled at him.
“Would you, um, like to go out sometime?” he asked, looking at me anxiously for an answer.
I didn’t allow myself to think about it and listened to my heart instead of my head. “Sure,” I answered.
He smiled with relief. “Great. When are you free?”
“I’m free tonight.” Way too anxious.
Sarah's Solace Page 28
