I thought I could handle this. I thought I could go on a date with no expectations and no feelings and eat a decent dinner with a new friend, but I can’t. I’ve tasted rejection my entire life, and sure, maybe that sounds overly dramatic, but being in this car, having watched Michael look at my outfit and my cheap shoes with scuff marks, clearly wondering if I was good enough for Entrée. I just can’t take it.
Michael stretches his arm out confidently along the bench seat. Luckily, the car is so huge, I manage to wiggle out of grasp range. “So, you know how Entrée is nearly impossible to get into? Well, I’ve been reserving a restaurant every month. It forces me to get a date and keep it, regardless of how I’m feeling about women.”
“That’s nice,” I say, hoping he won’t elaborate. He begins to elaborate.
“Some days I just don’t feel like ever seeing another female. I want to take that rib of Adam’s and stomp on it before woman gets created.” Michael laughs. “Nate told me you were a Bible thumper, so I thought you’d like that analogy.”
Next subject, please! “I was sorry to hear you’re divorced. That must be rough.”
“I’m sorry to hear you’re unemployed.”
He doesn’t sound all that sorry. “Yeah, thanks. Hopefully, this is a foray into something bigger.”
“San Francisco is land of the entrepreneur. If you can afford the employee taxes, you can make it work. What’s on your mind? Stocks? Real estate? What are you hoping to invest in?”
“I’m actually raising capital right now,” I say, curious to know if not buying Big Gulps actually warrants the term “raising capital.” Considering I only gave them up yesterday, probably not. “For fashion design,” I continue.
“Waste of time. The last thing women need is another frock. I’ve got a lot of friends in venture capital when you come up with a marketable idea.”
Frock? What is this, 1810?
We drive to the financial district and the newest restaurant to receive acclaim in the City. No easy task in San Francisco. Whatever Michael’s downfall is, it’s not frugality. He pays for valet parking, and the Buick boat is whisked off, leaving us amidst the horns and city noises of San Francisco.
Michael puts his hand in the small of my back and leads me inside the restaurant. It’s like being in a 1960s Bond movie at a supper club. The décor is modern, with straight lines everywhere and unexpected orange boxed lights in the ceiling. Small pendant lights hang haphazardly around the room, like a wave of brightened triangular balloons. There are men in tuxedos. Granted, they’re the waiters, but still. I’m half-expecting Austin Powers to join us under the orange glow of the period lighting, and I’m hearing that theme music in my head.
The thing that really gets me is the smell. It’s like heaven, a mixture of garlic and cilantro and I can see the fresh crab lined on ice, but can’t smell those thankfully. My mouth is watering, and I don’t even want a pickle! See? I’m only attached to cured cucumbers when I can’t afford the good life. This is the life I was born to live!
“I’m Bond. James Bond,” I whisper to Michael.
“What?”
I shake my head, embarrassed by my attempt at humor. “Nothing. I thought the place looked like a Bond set.”
Slight smile, then it’s back to scanning the room to see who might recognize him.
The mâitre d’ seats us in chairs that are black and Asian in influence. Bamboo boxes cordon off tables, and the rustic orange must provide some really great feng shui vibes. The waiter places the linen napkin on my lap, and I feel a little violated. Who needs help with a napkin? See, there are advantages to Denny’s—your personal space is not invaded for manners’ sake.
“So Nate tells me you have a Stanford education,” Michael says, while checking the cleanliness of his butter knife.
“I’m a fashion designer,” I say, squaring my shoulders as if to say, Check out this jacket! “My gowns can be seen in San Francisco’s Saks under the name Sara Lang Couture,” I boast proudly. But you know what they say about pride and the fall.
“Fascinating,” he says. “Tell me what you majored in at Stanford. I went to Berkeley,” he says condescendingly. Ah, the old Cal/Stanford rivalry—how droll. Have I been transported back to high school and the popular table?
Fine, he wants impressive. I’ll give him impressive. “I majored in finance as an undergrad, went on to get my masters in business administration, but I went to design school at night. Design has always been my passion.When I was a small girl—”
“What are you doing with the degrees? It seems sort of pointless to get them and not use them.”
“I’ve been designing for Sara Lang. Have you heard of her? She’s quite famous with operagoers. San Francisco’s premier designer, actually. I use my business skills every day.”
“When you were working, you mean?”
“I guess I do mean that, yes.”
“Nate told me you could discuss what I do: tax law.”
“Is there a quiz?” It’s a joke, but obviously not all that funny to Michael. Michael is a bit self-absorbed. This meal is suddenly not feeling free. Pretty costly, actually. Sort of like my education.
“I’m curious because my wife was not too bright. I think it hurt me with clients, and I want to ensure that I don’t get caught in that same predicament. You understand.”
“We’re just having dinner, right? After all, I shouldn’t send away too many clients with one dinner.” And trust me, you’re feeling like a one-date guy. That is, if the gal makes it through the first one at all.
“The thing is, women present themselves one way, and turn into another. Do you remember the movie Gremlins?”
“No.”
“Well, you couldn’t expose these cute little creatures to light or feed them at night. There was just a whole bunch of rules, or they turned monstrous. I feel like that’s how life with my ex-wife was. If I didn’t do something right, I paid for an eternity when she turned into the ugly, scary gremlin.”
“So how did she turn on you?” This, I gotta hear. You know it’s not his fault!
“All my wife wanted to do was spend my money. It was like going to work and leaving a running faucet. I didn’t know what disaster I’d come home to—more shoes, garden hoses littering the backyard, new flowers—”
“Was she into couture?” I ask understandingly. I’ve seen many a wife drain their husband’s wallets at Sara Lang.
“She went to Target three times a week. Every time it cost me fifty dollars. That’s $150 a week.”
How much did it cost to divorce her? “She spent $150 a week? In San Francisco? Good luck finding one more frugal than that.”
For the first time, Michael breaks a smile.
“What did she do, your wife?”
“Nothing. I just told you; she spent my money.”
Gosh, I’m feeling for the gal. A few trips to Target? “Maybe she was bored. What did she do before she married you?”
“I met her in a shop. She was selling high-end candles.”
There’s your first clue, dude. She was in retail. “I’ve seen women in Sara Lang’s shop spend more than $10,000 a day in clothes, so $150 doesn’t sound like that much to me, actually.” And I’m poor.
“It’s the respect issue. A woman needs to respect that her husband is out working hard to earn money.”
“Women nest. Maybe she was nesting, getting ready for the children to come and all.”
“No, no children. Did Nate say something about kids?”
“He didn’t tell you I want a bunch?” I look up dreamily. “Oh yeah, I was an only child, so I want about six, and just constant noise in the house. I want to be the neighborhood home where all the kids congregate, and other people’s kids call me Mom J or whatever my last name is.”
Houston, we’ve lost contact. Hallelujah! I believe the marriage discussion is officially over. We are officially unengaged.
I look up and, to my shock, see Morgan walk in with a man who must be
twice her age. “Um, excuse me, will you?” I stand up.
“You know her?” Michael asks me.
“A little. She’s an acquaintance.” An acquaintance who’s one of my best friends, but we’ll let that go as I’m not willing to share anything more with Michael.
Michael pulls a card out from his chest pocket. “Give her my card, will you? Tell her I’m available, and my divorce is final.” Michael begins to nod and rub his chin. “Morgan Malliard would definitely help my business prospects.”
Must…hurt…him. “You know, I don’t think I will do that.” I hand him back the card. “She’s out for a meal, and she’s not looking for companionship from what I understand. I’ve never known Morgan to be without a date.”
See, there really is no such thing as a free lunch. Or dinner.
I walk over to Morgan, and she has the oddest expression. Dumbfounded, perhaps. “Morgan?” I say.
She squires me away from the old man. “I’ll be right there,” she says to her date, before looking at me as if I’m guilty of the ultimate betrayal. “What are you doing here?”
“Once in a while, they let me out for good behavior.” I giggle. “I’m on a date.” I wave a hand in the direction of Mr. Sloan.
Morgan looks over and asks, “Is that Robert’s brother?”
“Just never mind. What are you doing here?”
“Just pretend you didn’t see me, okay?”
“But Morgan, I—”
Morgan rushes off behind her “date,” and he pushes the chair in while she sits down. I’m standing alone in the middle of the restaurant now, and I can see faces staring. I march over to her table, but I can see by the look in her eye she’s serious, so I back away slowly.
I lift my lapels and look at one of the women staring hard. “Couture,” I say, fingering the jacket.
I walk back to the tax attorney sheepishly.
“She’s busy,” I explain.
“Okay, let’s order.” Translation: “Let’s get this over with.” I couldn’t agree more.
“I’m not really that hungry—just a soup and salad for me.”
“You really should put some meat on your bones if you want a man.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that into consideration.”
“Seriously, a guy will think you’ve got anorexia and can’t carry a baby. I assume most of the religious sorts are interested in that. Want you barefoot and pregnant and all that.”
I’m going to kill Nate, and then I’m going to find him a nice girl who works for the IRS.
I drop my head in my hands, trying to regroup and praying silently that this date could just end. I knew better, I knew better, I knew better…
“Lilly?” Robert, my formerly beloved “white wall” is standing in front of me with Katrina on his arm. This is why I have no friends. They’re all in fancy restaurants I can’t afford! And why didn’t Robert ever take me to a place like this?
“Robert,” I say, and I force myself to add, “Katrina.”
“Who’s your friend?” Robert asks, and I look over. Michael has shoved an entire breadstick in his mouth, and what didn’t fit he’s now wearing on the front of his suit.
“Michael Sloan, this is Robert and his girlfriend, Katrina.”
“Pleasure,” Robert says as he thrusts out his hand.
Michael wipes his hand across his chest and reaches for Robert. I look over at Morgan, and she’s got her hand in the old man’s clutches. What the heck?
“Lilly, it was good to see you,” Katrina says while yanking Robert away.
“Yeah, you too,” I say absently, still mystified by Morgan and her nameless geriatric.
The soup arrives, and I have to admit I’ve lost my appetite, but I’m going to consume every bite lest I get the anorexic sermon again. Although I evidently know a rather large proportion of the restaurant patrons here with me, I have never felt more alone. I shove another spoonful of soup in my mouth. Nate, you are so gonna pay for this.
chapter 9
When I get home, I slam the door hard. “Nate!” I scream, knowing he’s there. I watch his popcorn fly since I’ve scared him, but now he’s laughing. So is Kim as they sit in front of some fuzzy television show. “So you both think this is funny.”
“You dating Michael Moore’s twin? Um, yeah, we think that’s funny. It’s like there’s this endless parade of them waiting to date you.” Kim pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “For one thing, going out of here you looked like Shrek and his Q-tip.” She laughs. “I’m sorry, you just got your hair straightened. Shrek and his toothpick!”
“Are you trying to help, Kim? I thought you had a date.”
“Didn’t work out,” she says cryptically.
“Nate, do you want to explain this?” I ask, tapping my toe. “Because Nate knows Michael’s size has nothing to do with his downfall. I like teddy bear men. Grizzlies, not so much.”
“I know you’d be content to sit in this box every night, Lilly. I thought I’d do you a favor and move you forward. You waste so much time being too above dating. I figured you’d get that first nervous tension out of your system after Robert, and you’d be fine.” Nate shrugs. “Plus, if you could survive a date with Michael Sloan, you’d be ready!” Nate turns back to Kim. “The women at work just hate him. He was hired as a consultant, and the women scurry away like rats when he comes to the office. He’s as abrasive as a scouring pad.” Nate and Kim are both cracking up.
“You knew that? Nate, how could you? I thought this was for Michael,” I say in all innocence. “You told me you thought he was looking to see what he did wrong with women?”
“Michael? Oh no, Michael doesn’t do anything wrong. It’s always the women. More than half of the American population has the problem, but not Michael. Michael’s perfect.” Nate and Kim break into laughter again. “But you’re such a sweetheart, Lilly. I knew if he couldn’t make it with you for an evening, he might listen to reason. The women at my office thank you.”
“I cannot believe you let me go out into the night with that man!” I’m stunned. Nate does not have a mean streak in his body. At least I thought he didn’t, but he’s sitting on the Goodwill sofa cackling, like all the kids in seventh grade did.
“He’s perfectly harmless. I’d never put you in danger, and I figured you’d eat well. Maybe bring us dessert as a thank you,” Nate says. “You didn’t bring us dessert, did you?”
“Michael would have thought I was going home to eat it and throw it up. He’s convinced I’m anorexic or bulimic. I heard about the benefits of nutrition all night! Ugh, I had indigestion before the meal started! That was my last mercy date, you understand?” I bend over to point my finger in Nate’s chest. “I’m not desperate!” I cry urgently. I stand up straight, dropping my finger to the side. “Besides, I’ve got to concentrate on my business, not men. I’ve got to find capital, and that’s my goal right now. Romance can wait.”
Don’t I sound so strong? Romance can wait. As if I have a choice.
“Didn’t you ask Michael for money? We figured you’d at least make the most of your time there,” Kim says. “You’re so pathetic, Lilly. You just sort of expect the money to drop out of the sky because you need it.”
“Michael didn’t really understand ball gowns as an investment opportunity. He had a little issue with women spending his money.”
“Don’t they all,” Kim says.
Kim looks good. She’s happy and glowing, and her coloring is back to normal. Nate definitely brings out the best in her. “Why do you two watch television down here when Nate has all the best equipment upstairs?”
“Nate’s place stinks,” Kim says. “No offense, Nate. Lilly, you gotta finish Charley’s new bed.”
“Charley can’t help it,” Nate shrugs. “It’s his ears.” He pauses. “The vet says he’s not sure he’d survive an operation to fix them. I keep Lysol at the door. Do you want me to buy Vicks VapoRub for when you come over, Lilly?”
Yeah, he’s not a nic
e guy at all. I smile at him and see his espresso machine is still here. “Can I make one?” I ask, pointing at the gleaming machine.
“Be my guest,” Nate says. “I bought you fresh coffee today. Kim says I can’t have my machine back. I can only come down here and visit it.” He laughs. “You’ll be sorry if I wander down in my boxers for my morning java.”
“Oh, trust me, you’ll be the sorry one,” Kim says. “By the way, Robert called right after you left. I told him you were on a date. He commented that you moved on quickly.”
“You’re kidding! I saw him on my date. Did you tell him where I was?”
“I didn’t know where you were, Lilly.”
It pains me to admit this. “He took her to Entrée,” I say sullenly. “I was only worth Lyon’s or Denny’s.”
Nate gets up and puts his arm around me. “You’re worth Entrée in our book, Lilly.”
“What did he want?” I ask, knowing that hearing from an ex is never really a great omen. But hearing from Robert has me on edge, especially after he saw me tonight. Robert rarely called me when we were dating.
“Robert’s thinking about getting married to Katrina. He wanted to talk to you about if you thought he should. He says he trusts your opinion.”
I set the coffee cup down with a bang. “I don’t think I really feel like coffee after all.”
“You had quite an impact on Robert, Lilly. It’s a bit flattering, don’t you think? That he cares about your opinion?”
As I’m heading behind the screen, I look at her. “He could have asked me what I thought of Katrina when I was dating him. It would have saved him the phone call now.”
“It turns out you were the other woman while they were getting serious. He thought it was good not to put all his eggs in one basket so he wouldn’t get hurt. You actually came after Katrina. He thought you should know that.”
“He told you this?” I never heard Robert that chatty in the three months that we dated.
Kim nods. “He called to find out if you were still angry with him, and asked me to tell you that he was really sorry for not telling you earlier about Katrina. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit to her. So he was testing things with you. He never meant to hurt you, and he sounded totally aboveboard.”
She's All That Page 8
