“Would you like to order anything?” She offered a menu, but he didn’t take it.
He looked at the empty plate across from him. “No, I’m gonna go.”
The waitress came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
He tried to shake her hand off, but it was glued to his shoulder. “That’s OK,” he murmured. “It’s OK.”
The waitress finally went away, and Brandon got up. He looked at the bouquet of red roses on his table, picked it up, and chucked it in the trash.
Then, he looked at the bouquet. He was sad to see a fresh, gorgeous bouquet just sitting there in the trash. He retrieved it, and looked around. He noticed that the twenty-something couple had no flowers.
Brandon approached them and put the bouquet on their table.
“Here,” he said to them. “I won’t need these anyway.”
The girl looked at him. “I’m sorry you were stood up.”
He said nothing, and turned around.
He was about to leave the restaurant when he realized that he had left his wallet on the table.
Brandon returned to the table, and picked up his wallet.
He paused when he saw the candle on his table. The flame had eaten the wick and melted the wax. It was now a very ugly piece of art work.
*
He returned to the Tipton Hotel in downtown Toronto. His friend Patrick was waiting for him in the lounge on ground level. Patrick, a guy with wavy blond hair, waved.
Brandon headed toward him and noticed that he was not alone. On both sides were two girls, a thin Asian girl and an even thinner brunette girl.
Patrick stood up from the bar stool, glancing at his watch. “Uh oh. It’s only 9 o’clock. Did your date suck?”
Brandon crossed his arms. “In order for me to rate it, she has to show up.”
Patrick tugged at the collar of his casual lounge shirt. “Yikes, I’m so sorry, man. I don’t know what happened. She’s usually not flaky. Let me call her and see what’s up.” He took out his cell phone.
Brandon put up one hand. “No, don’t bother.” He sighed. “I don’t really care. I just want a good night’s sleep before I fly back to Vancouver tomorrow.”
The brunette girl, who had hair so dark it looked black, got up from her stool, and went over to Brandon. He saw that she reached up only to his chest. “You’re going to turn in so early? It’s only 9 o’clock. I was hoping we’d get to have some fun.” The girl moved in closer, and Brandon could catch a whiff of cherries.
She smells good, he thought.
Then he looked at Patrick, who was mouthing something to him. He pointed to the brunette and smiled.
Brandon thought he saw Patrick mouth For you, as he pointed to the brunette.
Brandon frowned and shook his head.
Then, he looked at the girl in front of him. Her long brown hair was shiny in the dim lights of the lounge. Her face and mouth were signaling liveliness.
She was wearing mascara and eyeliner. A little too much eyeliner, Brandon thought. He then noticed her long eyelashes. They looked glued on.
He paused, then finally said, “Nah, I’m gonna hit the hotel gym, then turn in. I got a fundraiser in the morning.”
He saw the girl’s eyes light up. “That’s no fun. I was hoping that we could get to know each other. I’m Maggie.” She twirled a strand of hair in one hair as though it were spaghetti.
Brandon was well acquainted with the classic signs of flirting. “I’m Brandon, but I’m really tired. Maybe another time.”
Patrick looked sympathetically at his friend. “Look, you were stood up. I’m sorry. Anita normally doesn’t do that unless there’s a very good reason. But there’s no reason you can’t enjoy some time with Maggie here. She’s a friend of mine who really wanted to meet you after I told her about you.”
Maggie looked at Brandon with big dark brown eyes. “Too bad you were stood up.That sucks.”
Brandon was about to turn around when Maggie grabbed his shoulders. A rhythmic beat came on.
“Oh, I love this song,” Maggie squealed. She ran her hand down his arm until it rested on his bare forearm. She gave it a little graze with a finger.
Brandon almost shivered.
Maggie smiled a cute little smile. “Let’s dance. I’ll make you forget all about Anita.”
Brandon looked at Patrick, who only shrugged, then turned his attention to the brunette next to him.
Brandon looked at Maggie and nodded. “Sure, why not?”
He held the girl’s hand and led her out onto the dance floor. They danced for a while, and at one point, Brandon felt Maggie’s hands on his ass. In response, he put his arms tighter around her waist, and pulled her in. He tried to remember the last time he had a beautiful girl in his arms, but could not recall when.
She leaned into him, and the pleasant cherry smell filled his nostrils.
“Having fun?” she asked.
Brandon was about to answer when he noticed something on her breath. Alcohol.
“Yeah. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not a lot. Couple tequila shots.”
They continued to dance for the next little while, but then, Maggie began to slow down.
Brandon looked down and noticed that she was starting to get sluggish. “Are you OK?” he asked.
When she did not reply, he held her at arm’s length. Her eyes were half closed, her cheeks were a deep scarlet, and she had a goofy smile on her face. A drunk smile.
With the music still blaring, Brandon led the girl off the dance floor and back to Patrick and the Asian girl.
“Patrick,” he began, then stopped he saw that his friend was making out heavily with the Asian girl.
“Patrick,” he said again, louder this time. “I think Maggie is a little tipsy.”
Patrick pried his face away from the brunette’s long enough to say, “Then take her back to her room.” He then smiled, and pointed to the Asian girl. “This is why I work in fashion.”
Brandon started to protest, but it was too late. Patrick had already returned to his make-out session.
Brandon turned to Maggie, and saw her with her eyes closed. “I’m so sleepy,” she moaned.
He held her in his arms. “You OK?” The smell of alcohol on her was stronger now.
Maybe she had on a lot of perfume to cover it up, he thought.
When she did not answer, he said, “I’m going to take you back to your room.”
He thought he saw her nod, but he was not sure. “Where are your keys?”
“Pocket,” she mumbled.
He rummaged around in her pocket and touched plastic. He held the object up to the flashing lights. Room 1132.
Brandon steadied the girl, and led her to the elevator. They got inside, and Brandon pressed the button for the 11th floor.
The doors closed, and there they were, all alone. She buried herself into his body, and Brandon shifted uncomfortably. He would have separated himself from her if she hadn’t needed him to steady herself.
“I think you’re ssssssoooooo shot,” she slurred.
He turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “And I think you’re drunk.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened on the 11th floor.
He pulled her out, and she stumbled and almost fell. He caught her just in time. She burst out laughing as though it were the funniest thing in the world.
She continued to laugh as he led her to her room.
They passed by rooms 1127, 1129, 1131.
They stood in front of room 1131, and then turned around. Brandon put the keycard in front of the scanner. Beep! The door opened, and he led her in, holding her hand so she would not fall.
Unfortunately, she must have stumbled on own her two feet, because her tiny body fell on Brandon, knocking him to the ground. The two of them lay there in a mess of entangled limbs.
He felt something on his chest, and realized that it was Maggie’s head. She was just lying the
re, listening to his heartbeat. For a moment, he enjoyed the feel of a girl’s head on his chest, but then he knew what he had to do.
He got up, and carried her over to the bed.
Brandon put her on it gently, and then lifted the cover and blankets. He then picked her up, and slid her into the bed, making sure she was tucked in snugly.
He was about to leave when she grabbed his wrist. “No, don’t go. Stay with me.”
He hesitated.
“Please,” she said, her voice going all soft and flirty. “Just for a little bit. Until I fall asleep.”
“OK,” he said, and then sat down on the bed.
She released her grip on his wrist, and held his hand.
Her hand was soaking his in sweat.
Brandon thought about releasing it, but then he reminded himself that this was a girl that needed him.
His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see that she had her eyes open. She looked at him in a way that made him think that she wanted a little affection.
Sure enough, he felt her hand on the back of his head, pulling it down to her face. She puckered up her glossy lips, and just as Brandon’s face neared hers, he managed to pull away.
Undeterred, she started to strip off her pink tank top. “Come get me,” she said, throwing her tank top over to the chair.
Brandon sat there on the bed, taking in this gorgeous girl in the bed, now with nothing but a bra on. He would be lying if he said he was not tempted.
He turned his head away from her.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you think I’m pretty?” the girl whined.
Still keeping his head turned, he said, “I think you’re a very beautiful girl, but you’re drunk. I can’t do this with you.”
She tried to get up, nearly knocking the blankets off. “No, you can. You can.”
She thrust her chest out at him, but he did not see.
He looked out the window at the Toronto skyline at night. The rainbow lights twinkled back at him. There was something about seeing the skyline of a massive metropolis at night that made him feel a sense of wonder.
As he gazed at the distance, he was glad that he was distracted from the half-naked girl that was throwing herself at him.
Yet another girl that just wants a casual fling, he thought.
After a few minutes, he finally had the nerve to look at Maggie.
She was now lying back down, her head on the pillow, her eyes closed. She was even snoring a little.
He put a hand to her cheek and stroked it. It was warm and fleshy.
“Maybe some other time,” he whispered. “When you’re sober.”
He was about to leave when he took another look at her. That long brown hair. That way she was sleeping. Her soft, feminine face.
“You remind me of a girl,” he mumbled. “A girl I used to know.”
The resemblance was uncanny.
Shaking the image from his mind, he made sure that the blankets covered Maggie’s body completely. Then, he left the room, closing the door behind him softly.
*
The next morning, Brandon hit the hotel gym. He used all the machines, and then did some free weights. He lifted a dumbbell and began doing reps.
Sweat dripped down his forehead and onto his face. He wiped it away with one hand, and thought about the charity fundraiser that he was going to host later that morning.
It’s going to be fine, he assured himself. You’re going to kick ass and get enough donors to fund that children’s hospital.
He did his last rep, and allowed the weight to heave onto floor. He sat on the bench and stretched, panting.
He looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a drenched muscle shirt. His hair now had bangs.
“You can do this,” he said. “You can get that money for those kids.”
After showering, Brandon stood outside Conference Room A in a suit. He was about to enter when he heard his name.
“Brandon!”
It was Patrick, who had his hair combed and was in a suit. He was looking very neat and professional, in direct contrast to the night before.
“Sorry I just left you there last night. My girl wouldn’t let me leave. Did Maggie get back to her room alright?”
Brandon nodded. “Yeah, I took her back.”
Patrick nudged his friend on the shoulder, winking. “Did you do a little something something?”
Brandon looked at Patrick with a serious expression. “You know I’m not that kind of guy. She was drunk.”
“Of course I know that. You’re still hung up on Katie.”
Brandon said nothing, his face stoic.
Patrick said, “Forget I said anything. Now go inside and knock them dead.”
They did their best-buddy handshake and Brandon entered the room.
The crowd of wealthy businessmen greeted him with applause.
Brandon smiled and stepped up to the podium.
“I want to thank you all for coming this morning to the annual United Hearts Charity Fundraiser. This year, we are aiming to build a new children’s hospital.”
More applause.
Brandon smiled out at the crowd. They were hanging onto his every word. He saw Patrick smiling at him from the front row.
You’re doing great, he told himself.
*
At the same time that Brandon was giving his speech, Katie was in kindergarten teacher mode at Sinclair Elementary across town in the suburbs. She was wearing her teaching glasses and teaching hairstyle. Sporting a purple suit with a jacket and a matching skirt, plus a blouse, she was sight to behold.
Katie, or Ms. Simpson as her students called her, stood in front of the blackboard facing her students, who were all sitting in a circle on the floor.
Using a wooden pointer, she indicated the flashcards on the ledge of the blackboard.
“Now say it again,” she said. “Yesterday was Monday. Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow will be Wednesday.”
Her class of adorable five-year-olds repeated after its teacher, except for a little redhead boy, who was silent. Blushing, he was staring at a blonde girl next to him.
Katie made a mental note to talk to him after class.
She held up a storybook. “Story time, children. I’m going to read you Cinderella.” She started reading and noticed that the kids were in a trancelike calm.
She finished reading the last words. “Then, Prince Charming married Cinderella and they lived happily ever after.”
The class burst into thunderous applause, especially the girls.
Katie heard excited whispering among her students.
“I’m Cinderella for Halloween,” a blonde little girl said to her friend.
“I’m gonna marry Prince Charming,” her friend said.
Katie held up one hand. “Alright, calm down, everyone. Did you like the story?”
“Yes,” her class responded in unison.
The little blonde girl raised her hand. “Ms. Simpson?”
Katie pointed at her. “Yes, Alison?”
“Will I marry a Prince Charming?”
Katie considered her questions. Little kids asked the most interesting questions. She had no idea what to tell her. She decided to tell the truth.
“We all hope for it. Sometimes, it does. And sometimes, it doesn’t.”
Katie lowered her head, and the class grew totally quiet.
It didn’t happen for me, she thought.
She noticed that her students were all gawking at her, so she decided to get down to business.
She cleared her throat and put on a more authoritative expression. “Boys and girls, Ms. Simpson is getting married soon, so I have to fly back home to tell my family. You will have a substitute teacher for the next week.”
A cute little brunette raised her hand.
Katie pointed to her. “Yes, Alana?”
“What’s marriage?”
She smiled, and looked at the little girl. Again, she was unsure of what to tell her.
“It’s when two people love each other very much and want to spend the rest of their lives with each other.”
“Then you must love Mr. Simpson very much.” The brunette said it innocently, with a smile of pure delight.
On the other hand, Katie’s smile vanished as she thought about it. Little kids did indeed think of the most interesting things. The smile popped back onto her face again. “Actually, it’s Mr. Solomon. I’m not married yet.”
Then, she continued to teach, realizing that she had neither confirmed nor denied the girl’s statement.
At noon, she dismissed the class and requested that the little redheaded boy stay behind.
“Billy? I noticed you didn’t repeat after me. Is something wrong?”
The little boy looked up at her with big eyes, and then shook his head.
“Then why didn’t you try to learn the lesson?”
The boy shrugged, his hair whipping back and forth.
Katie pointed at the blackboard. “Why don’t you repeat after me? Yesterday was Monday. Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow will be Wednesday.”
The redhead stared at his teacher, but was silent.
Katie decided to change tactics. She recalled that he was staring at Alana, the little blonde girl, as though he was getting his first crush.
“You know, I heard that Alana really likes boys who can read and tell the dates. She really likes boys that are good in school.”
The little boy’s face lit up. “Yesterday was Monday. Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow will be Wednesday. Yesterday was Monday. Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow will be Wednesday.”
He repeated it as though it were a chant.
Katie smiled and put a hand on the little boy’s shoulder.
Whatever it takes to get them to learn, she thought.
*
At 8pm that evening, Katie heard Steven come home from work. She heard him climb up the stairs.
Katie was standing beside the bed, her suitcase all packed.
Steven dropped his briefcase. “Hi, honey.”
He leaned in and hugged her perfunctorily.
She reciprocated.
He started to undress. “I’m going to get into more comfy clothes, and then I’ll take you to the airport.”
“OK,” she said, her face blank.
He looked at her as if he wanted to say something more.
Katie looked back expectedly, but he said nothing.
Meet Me at Taylor Park Page 2
