Stop it, Kate. Why are you even thinking like that? I have no idea what he wants to talk to me about, but my mind automatically assumes the worst. I’m annoyed with myself for letting anxiety grab a hold of me.
Jack doesn’t say much in the car on the way to the café. I can tell he’s thinking about something. I decide it’s best to leave him alone with his thoughts until we’re seated at Mozart’s. Unfortunately, this leaves me alone with an iceberg in the pit of my stomach. I can feel the coldness reaching all across my body. I hit the volume control on the stereo twice, trying to lessen the silence that’s settled in the car.
We found a spot to park in the lot out front of Mozart’s, which is unusual—I almost always have to park across the street. Just before we enter the building, Jack speaks up again.
“You’re very blessed Kate.”
I agree with him—I am thankful every day for the life I lead—but I’m not quite sure what he’s getting at, so I just nod.
“I mean it. You’ve gotten involved with this great group of people who are making a huge difference for real people all over the city. My mom was like that. She had a way of reaching out and helping others. I used to love working on projects with her—but then I pushed it all away when she died. I feel like I’ve wasted all these years by being stubborn and angry.”
He stops, and I do as well. Jack puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me toward him. When he’s looking me in the eye, he places his other hand on my other shoulder. “Bobby didn’t know it, but he used the perfect metaphor tonight. I am the Prodigal Son, Kate. But my mom isn’t here to see me come home. She was there for the first eighteen years of my life. I spent the next fifteen years on my own and all over the map. I think you’ve come into my life when I most needed someone like her to show me where I needed to be going.”
He leans in and I prepare for a kiss. But he stops short.
“I don’t want to scare you, but I need to be honest with you, Kate. This is the first week of the rest of my life, and you’re a big part of that. I know our working situation makes this complicated, and I hate that for us, but it won’t be that way much longer. I want to see where this goes between you and me.”
The glacier that had been in my stomach since we got in the car must have floated down to the equator and melted, because all of a sudden, I don’t feel it anymore.
“I’m falling for you, Kate, and I mean it—I can’t wait to see where this goes between us.”
Finally, he leans a fraction of an inch closer and kisses me. Hold the Espresso. The adrenaline and cortisol surge through my veins in a way a double shot of any caffeine never can imitate.
Once we order and find a table, the whole night relaxes into a smile as we sip on our beverages—Jack’s a coffee, mine a steaming cup of green tea—and share a large slice of chocolate mousse cake. From our table next to the railing, we can happily watch both the waves lapping across the surface of the lake and the blinking of the red lights atop the radio towers on the far shore. I have no idea how long we’ve been sitting there when a girl in a Mozart’s shirt comes over to our table.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closing now. It’s two o’clock in the morning. You can leave your mugs on the table and I’ll take them back to the kitchen.”
The hours slipped by so smoothly, neither of us had any idea we’d been there long enough for the nighttime to pass into the earliest of mornings.
When we get back to the apartment, Jack walks me up to my door. He plants another soft kiss on my forehead and whispers in my ear. “Good night and sweet dreams, my Bear. I can’t wait until I get to see you again.”
I feel like a princess. If I had a tiara to wear to the black-tie ball at the end of the week, I’d seriously consider it. But when I walk into the ballroom at the Driskill Hotel, tiara or no, I am certain my inner princess will be radiating through. How could it not, with Prince Charming on my arm?
13
“The western lowland gorilla is characterized as a quiet, peaceful, and non-aggressive animal. They never attack unless provoked. However, males do fight over acquisition and defense of females.”
--From the Friends of the National Zoo website, www.nationalzoo.si.edu
* * *
I can’t find my desk.
I’m sitting in my cubicle, and what I have feared all week has finally occurred. I have so many piles of various projects on my desk that I cannot find the slick-topped horizontal surface which I am sure lies somewhere beneath. The fact that the papers are still suspended in mid-air and that the computer has not come crashing to the ground gives me hope that the desk itself still exists. I guess this is one of those times where you must not necessarily have to see in order to believe.
The problem with all these piles of paper on my desk is that Jack is coming to pick me up for a baseball game between our respective alma maters in exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. And in that time, I have to post three press releases out on the wire, send out two calendar invites for next Monday, and get home, shower, fix my hair, re-apply my makeup, paint my toenails and get dressed.
Or maybe I’ll just shove a green baseball cap on my head, put some tennis shoes on, and call it a day. That seems like such a cop-out. I remember what Al told me. Jack Cooper could have any woman he wants in Austin.
I can’t compete with that. I’m just casual, quirky me.
But I’m learning I can’t control it all. I need to enjoy the ride. It might be the first time in my life I’ve ever said something like that, but there’s truly nothing else I can do. I’m going to enjoy Jack’s company and attention until he realizes I’m not the type of girl he’s used to in his fast-paced, high-profile life.
But until then, I’m going to get my work done so I can go home, get ready, and watch some baseball.
It’s been a topsy-turvy week. It started with a relaxing day on the Blanco River with my…wait. Not going to say it. Just enjoying the ride, I remind myself. No labels or expectations.
It started with a relaxing day on the Blanco River with Jack. There, that’s better.
Then, there was Tuesday morning’s office meltdown with Cindy, which has affected my entire week here in the office. Although I did finally have start having some renewed interaction with Cindy yesterday, the amount is minimal.
Then, Wednesday featured the community action group meeting. I still can’t forget how on our way out the door, Jana emphasized how Jack needed to call her—but was positively frosty to me. Thankfully, nothing eventful—positive or negative—showed up Thursday.
And now it’s Friday. I’m cramming in last-minute work for clients and trying to confirm interviews to happen next week with the director of the Capital of Texas Zoo on all the morning newscasts in town. So far, Dr. Amanda Ashland is booked on two of the local major station affiliates. I had hoped that the other two newscasts would have confirmed today. But that will just have to resolve itself on Monday because I am out of here.
Scratch that. I’m almost out of here. One final e-mail just popped into my inbox.
To: [email protected]
From:[email protected]
Subject:Meeting?
Since I didn’t hear back from you, I guess you no longer like to jog around Town Lake with me. I know a lot has happened between us, but I do need to see you, Kate. I’m tied up Monday, but I’d like to get together with you Tuesday morning—just like we used to. Town Lake misses you. Please be there.
-M
That little electronic note has practically stopped me dead in my tracks. I feel glued to the fabric of my swivelly desk chair. I didn’t reply to Mark’s first e-mail because I didn’t know what to say. Six months and one engagement have passed since I talked about anything with him. I don’t think there’s much to say, really.
Obviously, though, it’s important to him. We did spend several years together. I guess I owe him at least a quick reply.
With trepidation slicking the pads of my fingertips, I poise my hands over the keyb
oard. I have no idea what I’m going to write. This may be the ultimate test of my fledgling PR career.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject:RE: Meeting?
* * *
6:00 a.m. at the usual bridge.
Six words and I’m feeling a different emotion for every single one.
But—the one emotion I feel complete certainty in right now is excitement about a fun time at the baseball game with Jack tonight cheering on our two central Texas universities. And so, I really, really do need to get out of the office.
After checking my Outlook calendar for next week’s meeting schedule, I shut down the computer, grab my bag and head for the door. At the end of the row of cubicles I like to call “The Pen,” a Chimp thumps into me. Neither of us saw it coming.
It’s the Queen Chimp. Even though she actually collided with me, in the interest of team harmony, I will take the initiative and apologize to her.
“I’m sorry, Laura Lynn. I’m in a hurry and didn’t see you coming.”
“Well, you should be more careful, Kate. I’ve got places to be, too. And I’m holding a bottle of Vitamin Water. What if I’d spilled it on my arm and ruined my new Fitbit due to your carelessness?”
Laura Lynn is completely overloaded. She is carrying a bottle of orange-flavored designer water in her right hand and has her beloved electronic gizmo pinched in between the second and third fingers on that hand, where the water could easily slosh all over both the small device and the purple fitness tracker bracelet that encircles her wrist. In the other hand, she is carrying not one, not two, but three shopping bags from various stores in the high-end shopping center around the corner from our office. Her purse is slung over her left shoulder, and like a cherry atop whipped cream, a red leather designer backpack crisscrosses her shoulders.
I study her for a moment longer and mentally chuckle that she looks like a blonde pack mule. But in reality, the closest she’s ever gotten to any kind of hard-working equine is a Mustang convertible.
“What’s the big rush?”
Her eyelids narrow together and her head cocks skeptically. “Not that it’s any of your business, Kate, but I have a date tonight and one tomorrow night. I have a very busy weekend ahead.”
“Oh, and that’s what all the bags are for? A little last-minute lunch hour accessorizing?”
“Precisely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” She forces her left hand forward and uses the Nordstrom bag to clear a path for herself in front of me.
I just stand there, rooted by an amused sort of amazement at the force of nature which is Laura Lynn Connors. They certainly broke the blinged-out mold when they made her.
“Have a nice weekend, Laura Lynn!” I can’t keep myself from being a little cheeky as I laugh internally to myself. I stick my free left hand in the air and wave it at her. “Good luck on your date.”
All I get in reply is the sight of silver elevator doors, sliding closed as the Queen of all Chimpdom is hydraulically whisked downstairs to the parking garage.
* * *
Dijon greets me first when I walk through the door to the apartment. I give him a thorough scratch behind his fluffy ears.
“Mimi, I’m home. And I’m running late.”
My part-time roommate is sitting at the dining room table eating a bowl of granola cereal. “Nothing unusual there. How was your day?”
“Nuttier than a fruitcake, as they say. How was yours?”
“Okay, I guess. I had to go get fitted for a bridesmaid’s dress, and it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Kate, it’s chartreuse.”
I’ve never heard of a good chartreuse bridesmaid’s dress before. I try and nod sympathetically. We’re talking about Mark’s wedding here, so it would be difficult for me to say anything at this point that wouldn’t come off as completely uncharitable. The ex-boyfriend having almost-neon green attendant’s dresses at his wedding pretty much says everything right there, without the need of further commentary from me.
“I’m going to look like a giant bottle of Gatorade, Kate.” She looks at me, with all the tragedy that can be mustered up by someone in their early twenties.
As for me, I’m in my late twenties and I have a date in just over half an hour, for which I have to at least freshen up and make a baseball cap look effortless and stylish. I’d better get a move on.
I dig in my closet and pull out a pair of khaki shorts and a Baylor T-shirt with some green sequined bling in the design. I kick shoes out of the way until I find the sandals I want, and then I stand back, run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. Without the time to take a shower and re-do my hair, the cap is happening. I fling a few more things around and quickly pull on the outfit. I’m rushing, but that’s okay. Every minute that passes moves me closer to spending more time with Jack.
I pull out a basket of my makeup samples and decide to try a new eyeshadow duet and a different shade of smoky eyeliner. If I have to go cap n’ casual, I’ll at least try to look gorgeous where I can. When I’ve completed all the powdering and dusting, I look very dramatic. I like it. I hope Jack does too.
I hear a knock at the door. I cram the baseball cap on my head, fluff my fingers through the ends of my hair and try to give it some extra volume.
I hear voices chatting near the door—it sounds like Mimi is making small talk with Jack. I kind of wonder if she’s sizing him up against her brother.
Oh no.
One look at Jack and my pounding heart comes to a screeching stop. I can’t go out with him. I can’t be seen in public with him.
He is covered, almost head-to-toe, in burnt orange.
My family has a long, multi-generational connection with my university. I’ve been conditioned from an early age to dislike the school colors of our in-state rivals. I feel a little dirty; like I’m going on a date with the enemy.
It’s like collegiate espionage.
But one look in Jack’s eyes, shaded by a white cap with an embroidered longhorn, the bill perfectly curving just so across his forehead, makes me feel very stirred…not shaken at all. Maybe this is why all the ladies love James Bond. Espionage appears to be downright hot.
“You look…very green.” Jack’s smile reminded me of Rhett Butler’s when he first spied Scarlett O’Hara on the staircase—part pleasure, part pirate.
“Gotta balance out all your orange.” Honestly, as long as he keeps smiling like that, he can paint his chest orange and go shirtless at the game, and it won’t bother me at all.
“Let’s get going, Green Bear.” He reached a hand toward me as he scanned the pattern of the bling on the front of my T-shirt with his eyes. “Mimi, it was nice to meet you.”
“Have fun. Hook ‘em.” Mimi put her pointer and pinky up and folded the rest of her fingers in, quickly flashing the hand sign that represented the Texas Longhorns.
Jack reciprocated and gave that pirate smile again. “Hook ‘em.”
I raised my own hand in a representation of a bear paw. “I am outnumbered.”
“Like your baseball team is about to be on the scoreboard.”
“I heard that.”
The Texas Longhorns’ baseball stadium buzzed with excitement. This was an NCAA Super Regional, one step away from the College World Series. ESPN personalities walked the sidelines, fans carried peanuts and popcorn and soft drinks back to their seats, and mascots tried to fire up the crowd. I saw Bruiser, the Baylor mascot in the distance, and I couldn’t help the reflexive smile that spread across my face.
As a kid, I’d made trips with my family to see the Houston Astros play at the Astrodome. Houstonians called it the Eighth Wonder of the World, and I agreed there was something magical about the place. I’d caught a fly ball (well, my forearm did, which was better than my nose), eaten cones of chocolate-and-vanilla swirled soft serve, and even caught myself on the jumbotron once, dancing during the seventh-inning stretch.
Those games and the tim
es with my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in those rainbow-colored seats had been some of the best memories of my childhood.
But now, I hadn’t been to a baseball game in longer than I cared to remember. I’d allowed time and distance to pull me away from something I’d used to love dearly. I thought it was part of growing up, of moving on with my life, of doing what I was supposed to do and putting the past behind me.
But here, looking at the green grass and the red dirt between the white bags…I feel completely at peace and completely home. It was like reconnecting with a long-lost friend.
“Ok, turn right. We’re at the end of the dugout.” As we come through the concourse, Jack points down the first baseline.
“I figured you’d be right behind home plate.” I’m trying to navigate through the sea of orange. The visitor’s side is down the third baseline, and I feel very alien over here. Kermit the Frog was right. It isn’t easy being green in a sea of orange-wearing fans.
“My dad has seats in box six, which is directly behind home plate. He played baseball for Texas back in the Seventies and he’s had those season tickets forever. We sat there when I was a kid.”
“So are these your seats?” I realize I like the feel of Jack’s palm at the small of my back as he guides me through the crowd.
He slides his hand from my waist and takes my hand as we make our way down the shallow steps to the front row.
“Yes ma’am. I played baseball here, too. Played in one of these Super Regionals, even. I like to be close to the action.” A spark shimmers in the corner of his eye and the edge of his lip quirked up mischievously. “And I like to heckle the opponent’s first baseman.”
Gorilla Dating Page 15
