Gorilla Dating

by Kristen Ethridge

  “But maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” Jack stops in mid-step. “This weekend is Memorial Day weekend. Why doesn’t everyone come out to my ranch on the Blanco River? It’s in Wimberley, just south of here. I was already planning on spending the weekend out there, so let’s just have everyone meet there Saturday around noon.”

  And so, that is how my forlornly empty calendar suddenly started to be a little bit booked up (for at least a day) with a good-looking man over Memorial Day weekend.

  “What a great idea, Jack. See what happens when we all work together? Oh, this is going to be so great.”

  Now seems the best time to disconnect my laptop from the projector, if for no other reason than Laura Lynn’s cozying up to Jack is about to catch up with my gag reflex, and if I don’t find another way to occupy myself—quickly—I will likely find myself saying something I regret, not once, but twice, in one meeting.

  “I think you’re right, Laura Lynn,” Jack says, offhandedly, as he shuffled a few papers in his portfolio.

  “So, I’ll just put it together and e-mail everyone the weekend’s agenda, if you’ll send me directions, Jack.” The way she keeps inserting his first name into every sentence makes me wonder exactly what she’s up to, beyond just simple kissing-up.

  “That won’t be necessary. It’s at my place, so I’ll take care of the details. If I need anything, I can ask Kate to pinch-hit again, since she did such a great job here today.”

  With my laptop zipped back up in the case, I catch a glance at Laura Lynn. The look in her eyes at this very moment is not so much mild-mannered zoological chimp as it is equatorial forest-dwelling wild primate.

  It didn’t occur to Laura Lynn that just because she’s Cindy’s favorite does not automatically mean she’ll be Jack’s favorite, too. The genus Queen of the species Chimp is a territorial breed, and it’s not in her biologic nature to play second fiddle to anyone. Ever.

  Making a good impression on Jack and getting some kind of recommendation from him to Al is very important to my ability to have a career at Brown & Company. I’m not going to lose this opportunity to a Chimp who already has a more than adequate career champion in Cindy. I stare Laura Lynn down for a split second, to let her know I see her challenge and accept it.

  I almost want to sniff the air for scents and signals, just like a real chimp would do.

  Jack steps to the door. Laura Lynn exits first in a motion which can only be described as “flouncing.” Logan trails in her wake. Jack holds the door for me.

  “Actually, I just thought of some things you can help me with for Saturday.” He places a hand on my arm to stop me. I feel electricity pulse from his hand, through the fabric of the blouse which covers my arm. Like everything else about him, Jack’s touch radiates self-assurance in a way that is tangible. I should use him as a mentor for how to be corporately confident without putting my big ol’ sarcastic foot in my mouth.

  “Do you have time to walk downstairs and grab a quick coffee with me?” he asks.

  Do I have time?

  An old Rolling Stones chorus pops into my head, complete with Mick Jagger stretching out the key vowel for several beats.

  Oh, yes, time is indeed on my side. Yes, it is.

  But one glance at my co-worker tells me not to get too confident. Although she’s a few steps down the hall, she’s looking back over her shoulder to size up the situation between me and Jack Cooper. Laura Lynn looks like she wants to throw a banana peel under my shoe right now and make me trip.

  Time may be on my side, but Laura Lynn Connors, Dallas princess, Queen Chimp, and self-appointed future bride of Jack Cooper—is not.

  4

  “I’ve spent many hours pondering how complex and sophisticated are the workings of a chimp’s mind, but I still have far more questions than answers.”

  --Bill Wallauer, Jane Goodall Institute videographer

  * * *

  Merely walking down Congress Avenue causes liquid energy to flow through my veins. I feel as though I am a kid again, drinking in all the sights and sounds which surround me. This area of downtown Austin is growing quite a bit. I suppose it is best described with the trendy term of “revitalization.” From the Frost Bank Tower to the mega hotels and spacious convention and performing arts centers, downtown Austin is becoming about more than just politicians and songwriters.

  My office overlooks the opposite shore of the lake, so I don’t get to see this side of downtown very often. Mark and I used to come down here once or twice a month, to hear a cool band or eat a nice dinner. But seeing as how my dating life has resembled the dunes of the Sahara since our breakup, I haven’t been here much in the last six months. It’s not just the hum in the air and the new projects towering skyward on the street corners—I find myself revitalized by seeing the new growth. It makes me think that maybe anything and everything is possible for me too.

  In spite of all the changes enveloping me as I step down the sidewalk, I decide this tingle buzzing between the layers of my skin could also simply be because I’m not just walking down Congress Avenue, I’m walking down Congress Avenue with Jack Cooper.

  Okay, I admit it.

  I probably am coming to have a teensy-tiny, itty-bitty crush on the man.

  I know that I shouldn’t. I need his thumbs-up regarding my work on this project. But, if that weren’t the case and he weren’t a client, I think my crush would be healthy in a way. Experiencing crushy feelings proves to me that the breakup with Mark didn’t do any permanent damage. Nothing in me appears to be broken from the breakup. I can still, apparently, find men attractive, and I can still work them into those little harmless daydreams that all women have.

  You know exactly which ones I’m talking about.

  Anyway, the keyword here is “harmless.” Little harmless daydreams. Because Jack is a client—and a very important one to my future in business—I can’t act on anything more than what’s happening right now. Simple awareness of some kind of nebulous, potential crushiness. Nothing more.

  In a very real way, this knowledge is both powerful and comforting. It gives me some boundaries. I can ease back into this whole realm of attraction (and subsequent dating with someone somewhere down the line) but not have to worry about what to do or moving too fast, because I can’t act on anything when it comes to Jack Cooper. I feel very grown-up, even thinking about this. I’m adulting. Go me.

  “Thanks for saying yes, Kate. You don’t mind helping me this weekend?”

  “Or for the rest of my life.”

  Oh.

  Fudge.

  Bunny.

  Isn’t adulting supposed to come with a filter? One of those things that stops the stupid words you’re thinking before they flow foolishly out of your mouth? Isn’t that the deal?

  You get maturity, you get the filter.

  Even department store cosmetics counters offer a gift with purchase. Buy a quart of moisturizer, get a pocket-sized spritzer of some overly floral perfume and two tubes of lipstick in colors that don’t match your skin, but you’ll still try anyway. The same rules should apply here.

  I swear, the whole world would be so much better off if it worked like a mall.

  “What?” Jack’s monosyllabic reply to my asinine statement pretty much sums it all up.

  I am too mortified to look at his face, but the tone of Jack’s voice tells me the corner of his mouth is turned up, even though he’s trying not to smile too noticeably at my expense.

  “I’m sure it’ll be the time of my life,” I belatedly—and pointlessly, I might add—correct myself. Quick thinking there, Cormick. That statement used the correct last word and everything. He’ll totally be fooled, right?

  I put my hand up to my cheek, trying to hide the red Rudolph-like glow now creeping up my face. Jack steps to my other side and pulls open the door to a cute downtown coffee bistro.

  I stare at my feet and mutter a mellow “thank you” as I walk past, figuring if there are fewer words that make it past my lip
gloss, the fewer opportunities I will have to remind everyone around me that on the day verbal filters were handed out to all the mature folks, I was clearly on sick leave or in some worthless office productivity software training.

  Wherever I was, it wasn’t in line for the secrets to adulting.

  The barista moves the caffeine addicts in front of us through the line in quick succession, and I step up to the counter in front of Jack. The woman behind the counter gives me a scanning look best described as “too cool for school.” As soon as Jack comes into her view behind me, though, the quirk of her thrice-pierced eyebrow noticeably softens.

  I wonder if he’s just oblivious to all these once-over looks that women bestow upon him like unexpected surprises in the toes of Christmas stockings. He pretty much laughed off—ignored, almost—my earlier verbal faux pas, so I guess it’s probably old hat to him. He probably has women fawning over him and talking about a future together every time he ventures out.

  I’ll never need to discover how to deal with such outpourings of attention, myself.

  “Ma’am?” The barista—Meadow, according to her nametag—queries for my drink order with an obvious touch of exasperation. She even taps her tongue ring against her front teeth for emphasis, so that I am made aware of just how much my momentary brain digression is delaying the flow of her business.

  I guess she hasn’t noticed that the only two people left standing at the counter are Jack and me.

  Tap-tap.

  “I’ll take a chai tea latte, and…” I say, skillfully avoiding anything overly caffeinated, like a Frappuccino. Frappies make me happy. When I’m happy, I’m chatty.

  And when I’m chatty, well…we’ve all just seen what can happen.

  Tap-tap.

  Meadow stares me down, daring me to finish my sentence.

  “Oh, and a cranberry-orange scone.”

  Tap-tap. “Fine. What size is the drink?” The expression of her eyes clearly inserts the one word her mouth left off the end of the sentence: dummy.

  “Tall.”

  Meadow punches the numbers into the cash register. “Six forty-eight.” She’s looking at me sideways again. I reach in my purse to find my wallet, while simultaneously trying to break loose of her tractor-beam stare.

  “She’s with me.”

  Ah…my fake office crush has claimed me. Albeit, he’s done so in front of a milk frother to a girl who is wearing attitude like a perfume. But after a recent bad breakup and a coffee date kicked off by my acceptance of a non-existent marriage proposal, this portion of my day really has nowhere to go but up.

  “A Venti caramel macchiato, with two of those croissants there.” Jack points at the front of the case. He sounds like a caffeinated pro. Meadow looks up from the cash register, deliberately reaching to make eye contact with me, as if to say that’s how you order.

  I look for a table and realize that—apologies to a U2 song from a number of years ago—I seem to be stuck in a moment which I can’t get out of.

  But I need to.

  I really need to.

  I need to stick with my resolution from earlier this morning, and just treat Jack Cooper like any other co-worker. I mean, he’s not even really a co-worker. He’s a client. And an important one for me. And I’m pretty sure that nowhere in that services contract between his company and mine is a description for any kind of action like “have Assistant Account Executive drool on principle contact of client.”

  A barista—thankfully not Meadow—calls out “Tall chai tea latte and a Venti caramel macchiato” and Jack steps over to the counter to pick up our beverages.

  While he’s standing up, I can sneak a good look at him with no one noticing. His shoes are a soft camel-colored leather, polished to such a high shine that they remind me of a new apple at the grocery store, glossed with a lacquered finish. His pants are a lightweight summer wool, with a subtle, yet interesting plaid—Burberry, perhaps?—in a calm taupe shade which compliments his button-down starched designer shirt nicely. He’s definitely easy on the eyes, and he seems to know his way around a clothing rack. Although this isn’t a typical male attribute, it does score quite a few points with me.

  The two paper cups are each snugly ensconced in a brown insulating ring, and Jack sits each down carefully in the middle of the table, then smiles at me.

  I wonder if he’s single?

  Uh-oh.

  Maybe this hyper-awareness isn’t about Jack at all, but rather an expression of my excitement over doing the presentation so well. It makes sense that something like that would just naturally rub off on him because he was very supportive during the meeting. I’m sure that’s it. Or at least some of it.

  Of course it is, I try to convince myself—in one of the most unconvincing manners I have ever experienced.

  I can hear Bono singing about that moment again, and I know I’m really stuck.

  I roll my eyes upward, trying to signal God for some drive-by style help.

  Please, don’t let there be any quicksand at the river this weekend.

  “Kate?”

  I wish the sound was Jack’s voice saying my name, but it isn’t.

  I’m no longer worried about quicksand in a few days’ time. I’m worried about the here-and-now. I know that voice, and I can feel myself being sucked into an immediate quagmire.

  Mark clearly noticed me the minute he walked through the door to the coffee shop--with a bleached-blonde on his arm. I know instinctively that this is the fiancée. Naturally, I give her the ex-girlfriend once-over. She’s okay, I guess, in a completely-opposite-from-me kind of way.

  “Hey.” I try to sound as aloof as possible, in the same manner in which I hoped Joan Crawford or Bette Davis would have greeted an ex and his new woman.

  “It’s been a while. This is Missy.” He gestures toward the blonde, whose eyebrows, I notice, are about five shades darker than her chemically-enhanced hair. “I guess Mimi told you about us.”

  I magnanimously extend my hand. “Kate Cormick.”

  I will be the bigger person here. This is definitely a test of “love your enemy” in action. Mark isn’t my enemy, but he is my ex, and that’s definitely worthy of its own special classification.

  Jack stands up beside me. I know he’s just being courteous, but his presence feeds me with some kind of strength. If I had to run into Mark sometime, at least it is happening when a good-looking man happens to be at my side.

  I decide that this is a good time to introduce my coffee companion. “This is Jack Cooper.”

  “Mark McCoy.” They exchange a businessman’s handshake. Short, to the point, with one pump of the arm, and it’s done. “You’re with Lone Star Consulting, right? I’m the media representative for Clay Watkins, the new Speaker of the Texas House. I know I’ve seen you at the lege before.”

  “Sure, sure.” Jack’s head nods familiarly. “I don’t make it up Congress Avenue too much these days because I’m swamped with the opening of the new zoo. In fact, that’s what Kate and I are working on right now.”

  “The new zoo.” Mark gets that gleam in his eyes that I’ve seen too many times. He’s thought of a way to add a new contact to his Rolodex. “That’s right, Lone Star is putting that together. Listen, Speaker Watkins would really like to be involved in the opening somehow. Is that possible?”

  Jack shrugs in a non-committal manner. I can only assume this happens all the time to a well-connected consultant. “I’m sure we can find a way to work him in. Maybe something with the Governor.”

  “That sounds great. We’re running late this morning, but I’ll be in touch. I’ve got Kate’s e-mail.”

  Oh no. That’s the last thing I want. I do not need my ex-boyfriend contacting me to get a hold of my office crush. The muscle fibers in my left shoulder contract tightly as the cortisol kicks in at the very thought of having to talk to Mark more, much less to be his go-between with regards to Jack.

  “Sounds good.”

  Ugh. I’m going to have more contac
t with Mark. I prefer it when my past relationships stay in my past. My stress hormones continue to surge. The folks in the coffee shop really need to crank down their air conditioner.

  Missy, who has remained oddly silent the whole time—she didn’t even say hello when we were introduced—presses her fingertips down on Mark’s arm in a clear non-verbal gesture. She’s ready to go.

  Quite frankly, I agree with her.

  “It was great to meet you, Jack. Kate, good seeing you—it looks like things are going well for you. I wish we could talk more about the zoo, but Missy keeps a tight schedule. We’re due at the bakery to sample wedding cake in about ten minutes.”

  My palms start to sweat in a most unattractive way. Man, it is hot in here. I think the moistness on my upper lip is perspiration. Wedding cake? Already? In short order, Mark and Missy pick up two cups of coffee from Meadow, then head out the door. As soon as they are out of the store, I notice that it’s a lot cooler now inside the building. Hmmm…the air must have cut on.

  Jack and I focus back on the business at hand.

  “How do you know him, Kate?” My nose wrinkles inadvertently. This is not the business I want to get back to.

  “We met in college.” I pause, wondering just how much to say. “Now, he’s just my roommate’s brother.” It’s the truth. That’s all Mark McCoy is to me anymore.

  “Oh, I hear you.” Jack draws out the “oh” ever so slightly. Does he hear the words I’ve left unspoken? Before I can dwell on that train of thought, he scrolls his thumb across his smartphone and unlocks it, one swipe across the polished glass allowing the ghosts of my youth to float out of the coffee shop.

  After about thirty minutes of discussing goals and objectives for Saturday’s meeting and team-building event, my head is spinning. Through focusing on the job at hand, I’ve put running into Mark and Missy behind me.

  When we’re through, I head back to the office with my notes to finalize the details for the day, then send out an e-mail to all the participants. Although Jack had originally said he was going to take care of details, since we ran long at the coffee shop, he asked if I’d send out the invitation and gave me directions to include in the note.