by Misty Walker
“I was kind of hoping I could make it up to you. Maybe take you to lunch?” she asks with eyebrows scrunched together in apprehension.
“I’m not sure I can today. I’m a very busy man.” I may feel sparks between us, but I’m also out of control when she’s around, and it’s not an emotion I enjoy.
“Come on. It’s lunch. You have to eat, right?” She smiles at me and I know I’ve lost the battle already. She’s just so beautiful.
I sigh and check my schedule. I don’t have a lunch meeting today. “I suppose we can go to lunch, but I only have an hour, so it will have to be quick.”
Thea jumps from her chair. “No problem, let’s go!” Her excitement is a tad bit infectious and I’m off my chair and tidying my desk.
“What are you doing?” she asks as she watches me put papers into their files, stack them nicely, place my pen and pencil back in their tray, close all my open windows on my laptop, and power it down.
“What do you mean?” I peek up and she’s standing in the same spot with her head tilted, watching me. “I’m getting ready to go to lunch. You said we should go now.” I have no clue what it is she’s getting at.
“Yeah, but in an hour, you’ll come right back to this spot where you will just have to get all of those things back out again.” Her raspy voice makes even the most annoying comments sound pleasant.
“Yes, but for that hour, I would like to relax. And I can’t relax knowing my desk is in disarray.”
“You won’t be here to see it,” she says, but her tone adds a “duh” to the end.
“It has no effect on you one way or the other, so if it bothers you, you can wait in the lobby for me.” She isn’t the first person to be annoyed with my habits, but they’re just that. My habits. I don’t force anyone else to live by my standards, so they can all bug off. Except Chloe, she had to adapt all the time, a voice in my head says. However, that was different. Chloe was sharing my space and therefore should adapt to my rules.
“Geez, sorry.” Thea inches her way back toward the door. “I was just sayin’.”
“Well, don’t say.” I finish tucking away my laptop and stand straight. “There. Finished. Ready?”
She rolls her eyes at me and opens the office door.
“Let’s boogie.” She gestures for me to go ahead of her, but I’m a gentleman, so I hold the door above her head and guide her in front of me. “Oh, okay. You do the whole chivalry thing. It’s not necessary.” She ducks under my arm and stands behind me, pushing me through the doorway.
Now through the doorway, I turn to the side and place a hand on the open door and once again, gesture for her pass. “I insist,” I grit out.
“Law, I’m perfectly capable of holding the door open. It’s not a sign of weakened masculinity for me to open it for you. I swear your balls won’t shrivel.” Her snide comment makes Monica gasp because no one speaks to me this way. I don’t think anyone has my whole life. Thea cringes when she realizes the entire bustling lobby of coworkers and assistants have heard her comments.
“I understand, Thea, but you’re going to lunch with me and when you’re with me, I open the doors. Now please, stop causing a scene and just walk out the door so I can lock up.” Properly chastised, she finally does as I ask and after locking my office, we begin our walk to the parking garage, side by side. I stare straight ahead with purpose, but I notice Thea is stealing glances at me through my periphery. I think I might unnerve her as much as she does me, and the corners of my lips crook up at this. “May I drive, or would that be a crime against your independence?”
“You may.” She agrees. “But only because I don’t have a car and I took a bus here.”
I try to hide my shock. The summers in Reno are very warm and the winters are frigid. How does one get around without a car?
“What about the van from last night?” That heap of metal was nothing to look at, but it was theirs. Wasn’t it? I hope they didn’t steal it.
“Oh, that’s my parents’. My dad does some labor jobs here and there and right now he’s doing some housing construction. So, no car. Plus, there’s the whole no license thing,” she says nonchalantly.
“No license, how do you—” But I stop myself and respond with a simple, “I see.” I know better than to be rude, despite her trying my patience at least once a minute.
We arrive at my car and I unlock it with the fob. I try to not walk over to her side first and open the door, but it’s no use. Dad taught me how to be a proper gentleman and it’s so deeply engraved into my psyche. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Despite the tension in her jaw, she bites out, “Thank you” as she sits in the passenger seat. I get a whiff of incense as she passes, and it’s intoxicating. Before I allow myself to bend down and sniff her like a dog, I close her door and round the car.
“Where would you like to go?” I ask while buckling my seat belt and starting the car.
“How about The Green Olive? It’s just around the corner.” She suggests.
“I’ve been there. It’s good.” I’ve actually been there numerous times because Chloe loved Mediterranean cuisine. I push that thought aside. So far, I have mostly compartmentalized the breakup and it will sit in that little cubby of my mind until I have the emotional capacity to deal with it.
“Great.” Her hands go to her hair and she pulls it through her fingers again. We start the drive in relative silence, but after only a few minutes, Thea presses buttons on my touch screen control panel.
“What are you—” I try to swipe her hands away, fearful she’ll accidentally call emergency services, but what she does is worse. She clicks the button for a pop station on the satellite radio. Music blares through the speakers at a volume this car has not used. I attempt to turn it down while also staying on the road, but she smacks my hand away. I huff in irritation before returning my hands to ten and two. She just smiles while singing and moving to the music.
Trying to pay attention to the road and her is difficult, but I manage. Her hands are in the air, moving fluidly to the beat, but that’s not what captivates the most. It’s her voice that has my mouth hanging open. She has perfect pitch and tone. The song is annoying and the lyrics, ridiculous, but when Thea sings it, I can’t help but enjoy myself.
The restaurant is only five minutes away, and when I park, I’m regretful the drive is over and her singing has stopped. Of course she jumps out of the car before I can open the door for her. I had no misgivings she would allow me to.
There’s a host standing at the entrance to the restaurant and he holds the door for both of us. She doesn’t argue or cause a scene, just smiles and thanks him. This makes me stew.
“Why is it okay for him to hold the door and not me?” I whisper as they lead us to a booth near the window.
“It’s his job. He wasn’t being chivalrous.”
“Regardless, when someone opens the door for you, you just say thank you and move on. It doesn’t have to be a thing every time.”
“Is this okay?” the host asks, gesturing to the booth.
“Yes, it’s fi—” I begin, but Thea cuts me off.
“Actually, can we get a table near the door?”
I nudge her, both for being rude and not accepting the table and also because, why does it matter?
“Sure,” he says through tight lips. People stare at us as we weave between their tables again just to go back where we came from. I scratch the back of my neck in irritation. “This okay?”
“This is perfect, thank you.” Thea smiles, satisfied finally. We both sit down and place our napkins in our laps.
“What was wrong with the booth?” I ask, genuinely curious how her mind works.
“I just like being near an exit.” She shrugs and places her elbows on the table, her chin cradled in her hands. Her cat-like eyes seem to know way too much about me. It makes me uncomfortable.
I open my menu and search for my favorite meal here, the lamb saffron kebab. “Do you know what you would like?” I peer around
my menu at Thea, but she’s still staring ahead, elbows on the table.
“I’ll let you order for me.”
I sit the menu down and look at her in shock. “Explain how that is not chivalrous.”
“It’s not chivalrous at all, it’s actually barbaric. But if you must know, I’m not a very good reader.” For someone admitting they’re uneducated, Thea doesn’t even bat an eye. I don’t think she even understands the implications of adult illiteracy.
“Did you not learn in school?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“I would have, if I had gone to school.” Her tone implies she’s saying something benign when she’s really dropping a bomb. “I can tell by the look on your face you’re shocked. Let’s order some lunch and I’ll lay it all down for you and get it out of the way.”
I nod curtly and luckily, we don’t have to wait long to place our order because our waiter comes by not two minutes later. I order a hummus plate for starters and two lamb kebab plates. I add two mint lemonades and hand our menus to the waiter.
Thea sighs when she sees the expectant look on my face. “You already know my family are Romani,” she starts, and I nod. “My great, great grandparents emigrated here from England. They were unfairly discriminated against, so they came to America.
“Every family is different. Some live in stick built homes and some travel, like us. We go to where there’s seasonal work and then we move on.”
“So, you’ve never lived in a house? Or gone to school?” I ask incredulously.
“Uh, no,” she answers timidly. “I’ve lived in the same travel trailer my whole life. My parents got it when they were married and we traveled too much to go to school regularly.” She shrugs. “But even if we were settled in one place, my family doesn’t encourage girls to go to school.”
My eyes go wide. “Why on earth would they not encourage girls to get an education?”
“They’re more… traditional. You know, men work and women are the homemakers type of thing.”
“And you’re okay with it?” I blurt out.
“It’s not that I’m okay with it, it’s more like, that’s just how it is. It’s how I was raised, it’s how my mom was raised.” Her fingers twirl her hair.
Our waiter delivers our appetizer and we take a break from the heavy discussion. Thea takes a piece of warm pita bread and scoops a heaping amount of hummus and cucumber onto it. I watch transfixed as her beautiful lips part. The sound she makes when the food hits her taste buds is orgasmic and I’m suddenly jealous of the food.
I clear my throat to break the spell she cast on me while she made love to her food. “Isn’t it against the law to not go to school?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t really exist. At least not to the government.” She takes a sip of her mint lemonade, her lips wrapping around the straw and making me wish for things I can’t have. “This is so good.” She’s driving me wild, which is making me mad because I do not do this. I do not have this strong of a reaction to women, especially women who are polar opposites of me. She wipes her hands on her napkin and continues, “Anyway, I was born on my parents’ bed. My four siblings were too. My parents didn’t want to chain us to the government, so they never asked for birth certificates.”
“What about a social security number?” I ask slowly, while watching her take another bite.
“Nope. Don’t have one of those either.” Our entrees come and things are quiet while we eat. My mind is reeling and I have a million questions, but don’t want her to feel interrogated, so I shelf them. I won’t likely see Thea again. We have no excuse after this.
“Do you like the kebabs?” I’m certain she does because the groans that have been coming from her mouth as she eats are the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard. I would love to know the sounds she makes when… no, can’t think about that.
“Oh my God, they’re so good. I don’t get to eat out often and my mom makes the same things over and over, so I have a limited palette,” she gushes.
“I’m glad.” I place my napkin on my plate. I managed a few bites, but my time is better spent watching Thea eat. She devours the entire plate, and when she runs a finger along the leftover sauce and brings it to her mouth, I want to equally cringe for the poor table manners, and also ask her to do it again, only to let me suck it off this time. I’m going insane. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like lay her down on the table, spread the sauce all over her body, and lick it off. Slowly.
The waiter comes by, removes our plates, and leaves the check. I go to grab it, but Thea gets there first and holds it to her chest so I can’t steal it away.
“Nuh-uh. It’s my treat.” She shakes a finger in front of my face.
“Thea. I don’t mind. Please let me pay the bill.” I’ve never once had a woman pay for my meal and the idea short-circuits my brain. Part of being a man, to me, is always taking care of the check.
“Nope. This is my apology lunch and I’m paying for it.” She digs in her purse for a moment and then looks up at me. “You should go get the car. I’ll take care of this and meet you out there.” She’s obviously not going to give in, and if she has to pay in quarters or something, I’m sure she doesn’t need an audience to embarrass her, so I do as she asks.
I move the car to directly in front of the restaurant where I wait a few minutes for Thea to come out. She jogs out, the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. Her eyes sparkle with what I think might be mischief, and as she nears the car, she looks over her shoulder. I follow her line of sight. Our waiter and the host run out of the restaurant, waiving their hands in the air and yelling something I can’t make out.
“Go!” Thea shouts. I stall, trying to put the pieces together. “Law! Drive! Go!” Everything is happening so fast, I have no time to compute the situation, so I put my foot on the gas and bolt out of the parking lot. Thea just laughs. A deep, rich bellow makes me grin, even if I feel left out of the joke. “You did it!” she exclaims.
“What did I do?” I’m still smiling at her as I drive back toward work.
“You drove a getaway car!” She claps her hands and my face falls. I hang a right into a grocery store parking lot and stop.
“What do you mean I drove a getaway car?” Anxiety swims in my chest.
“We just dine and dashed!” Again, full of excitement.
“No. You said you were taking care of the bill.” That’s what she said, right? I quickly replay the conversation in my mind and I clearly remember her saying that.
“I did take care of it. In a way. I took care not to pay it. Do you know those mint lemonades were seven dollars each? I could grow a lemon tree and mint for maybe seventy-five cents. Then I could make an endless amount of mint lemonade and save myself the extra.” Whatever she sees on my face makes her smile drop. She sets a hand on my shoulder. “Law? You all right? You look a little green.”
I push her hand away and jump out of the car before pacing back and forth. I just committed a crime. “I’ve gone thirty-two years without knowingly committing a crime and now I just committed at least a misdemeanor. Or is it a felony? Oh God, am I going to prison? Did the waiter get my license plate number? Did they recognize me from the many times I had been there? This can’t be happening.” My breaths are short and shallow, my vision narrowing.
“Law, come sit down. You don’t look so good.” Thea places one hand on my back and the other clutches my arm as she guides me to sit on the curb. “Take some deep breaths for me. Come on. In.” She sucks in a deep breath through her nose. “And out.” She expels the breath through her mouth. “Do it again.” I mimic her breaths and after a few more times, I come back into myself. “Feel better?” she asks, still eyeing me closely.
“Yeah, I think I’m okay now.” Until I remember what I’ve just done. I jump from the curb again and point a finger at her. “You!” I accuse. “I can’t believe you made me an accomplice to your crime. I need to get away from you.”
“Law, wait. You’re
just so uptight and I thought I could loosen you up. Show you some fun,” Thea pleads.
“That is your idea of fun? That was not fun, that was a crime spree!”
“A spree would indicate there was more than one crime,” she says under her breath, but I hear it.
“You think this is funny? Did you stop to think I could lose my job over this? What casino wants a thief working for them?” I’m shouting now.
“Come on, Law. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!” She throws her hands in the air as if I were the frustrating one right now.
“Out of proportion? You don’t even have a job. There’s no way you could understand. I just need you and your family of criminals to stay away from me. I’ve known you for two days and both days have taken years off my life.” I stomp over to my car and get in, slamming the door. I normally wouldn’t leave a woman in a parking lot, but this woman rides the bus and there is a bus stop right on the fucking corner. She’ll be fine.
I’ve never met anyone as uptight as that man. He should thank me for trying to dislodge the pole rammed up his ass.
I walk the few steps to the bus stop, swinging my purse back and forth the whole way. I look at the posted bus schedule and realize I have a half hour to wait for the bus that will take me home. Plopping down on the curb, I recount my afternoon. I really thought he would get a thrill from the minor crime and the adrenaline would get his heart pumping. Something tells me that doesn’t happen often with him. But instead, he’s pissed off and I’m stewing in the desert heat, waiting for a bus.
As justified as I feel my actions were, I do also feel bad. Our lunch was going so well and I was having such a good time. Law is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Him in a three-piece suit is a mood I have never felt before. Strong, capable, and sexy as fuck. When his eyes turned dark and intense as he watched me suck my finger, my body turned warm and liquid. I pictured placing my finger in his mouth and carnal need took over my body. I bang my head on my knees a few times to rid myself of those memories. He’ll never want to see me again after this and honestly, I shouldn’t see him again, anyway. I have less than six months until I’m married and I have absolutely no business getting involved with any man, let alone a gorger.
