Kiss and Tell 3

by Faith Winslow

  We, the Millers, were just another ingredient in the mix, and we blended in easily as we were seated at a table adorned with minimal accoutrement. A split-second after the sleek hostess left us at our table, a man, just as sleek, though slightly older, appeared at our table with a handful of menus. He handed the three of us three large folders listing foodstuffs, then handed Dad a smaller folio listing drinks and spirits.

  I wanted to trade menus with Dad right away but fought back the impulse. He looked at Mom briefly before turning to the waiter, who was still beside our table.

  “We’ll start with Saki,” he said. “Warm, please.”

  “All three of you?” the waiter asked.

  “Yes,” Dad answered without thinking. He didn’t bother to ask me if I wanted any. I guess this was a privilege or being over-21, or perhaps a reward for my day (if only he knew how much I actually deserved to be rewarded, he’d have ordered something a little stronger, I’m sure).

  I’d never had Saki before—warm or otherwise—but I appreciated Dad including me in the drink order. Mom, however, didn’t seem so receptive. She shot Dad one of those “How could you?” looks, and he just let it roll off of him, like water off of a duck’s back.

  When she failed to get any type of response from Dad, Mom turned her attention to the menu. “Everything’s so good,” she said. “What should we get?”

  We read over our menus and discussed our options. Eventually, we decided to each select two items, which we’d all share with each other. Mom chose a nigiri platter and a tuna sashimi, while Dad opted for a California roll and a shrimp tempura roll. I went with the less obvious choices and kept it even simpler, ordering fried tofu skins and a platter of crabsticks.

  The Saki arrived just moments after we placed our order—and, fuck, was it disgusting. If I’d thought a martini was bad, I had no idea what was coming when I put the tiny little cup of Saki to my mouth. Why did fancy drinks have to taste so bad? I guess I wasn’t cut out to be fancy—or to be an alcoholic.

  I sipped at my Saki like a kid sips at medicine. I hated it, but was thankful for the opportunity to drink it. The fact that my dad had ordered it for me meant that, at least in some way, he saw me as an adult, and I was grateful for that—and hopeful about it. Maybe if I was old enough to drink with him, he’d think I was old enough to do other adult things too, like make my own decisions about important personal things… such as dating.

  If I didn’t say it earlier, let me say it now—Ramaka was packed. Even though we were seated promptly, our orders were taken swiftly, and out drinks arrived in no time, our food felt like it was taking forever to get there, which was incredibly frustrating. Remember, we’re talking about sushi here, so it’s not like they actually had to cook it! My mouth watered every time I saw a waiter or waitress walk by with a tray of food that was never destined for us.

  Mom and Dad are more socially slick people than I am, but even they were drooling a bit as they watched others around us receive, and eat, their food. Every now and then, one of them would perk up a little when they saw out waiter with a tray, only to be let down when they saw him unload it at another table.

  I was starting to think I’d never eat again when I saw Dad perk up again—and, this time, he maintained his posture. Mom turned her head, too, to look in the direction Dad was looking, but I continued to look straight ahead, running my fingers over the top of my Saki glass, opining its wretched taste.

  I was distracted from my glass a moment later, when, rather than having food placed in front of me, I saw Dad push back his chair and stand up. He reached his hand out across the table, and Mom flashed a huge smile across her face.

  “Good evening, sir,” Dad said in that fake voice I’d heard far too often over the years. “Imagine running into you here… like we don’t already see enough of each other at the office.”

  Dad had just told a fake joke in his fake voice, but nothing about the situation was funny. I looked up from my Saki glass and saw that salt-and-pepper hair and those piercing blue eyes.

  “Funny, huh?” Anthony said. “I don’t know what came over me—but, earlier, I got the overwhelming urge to go out for sushi.”

  Chapter 10

  My heart was racing. What the hell was Anthony doing at Ramaka? What the hell was he doing standing at our table? He knew I was going out for sushi with my parents. Why would he show up here like this? Was he going to confront them? If so, shouldn’t he have given me some type of warning?

  Or was he here for some other reason? Was he playing games with me? Or, wait—had something gone wrong?

  What the hell was going on here?

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just my heart that was racing. It was my mind too. My brain was flooded with so many questions, and they kept swelling and colliding. I couldn’t even think straight. My blood was boiling.

  “Are you here alone, Mr. Swift?” Mom asked. “Would you like to join us?”

  Dear God, I thought to myself, why’d she have to ask that??

  “I just came in to get something to go,” Anthony answered. I felt a cool air of relief rush over me, but, just as quickly, I was hit with something else.

  “But, I’d love to sit with you and wait while my order is filled,” Anthony added.

  Of course, the three of us were seated at a four-top table. The fourth, vacant seat had been removed, but, as soon as Anthony raised his hand, a nondescriptly sleek busboy was at our table with another chair.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting any type of special family dinner,” Anthony said, taking a seat. “But, when I saw you over here, I had to come over.”

  Anthony glanced at the glass of Saki in front of me and raised his eyebrow. “I’m sure Kirby told you about how our appointment had to be cancelled this morning,” he added. It was actually pretty presumptuous of him to do so. How did he have any idea what I’d told my parents? A lot had happened since we’d come up with the story we agreed on. How did he know I had the wherewithal to stick to it?

  “I wanted to apologize for that,” Anthony went on.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Swift,” Mom said, jumping at the chance to speak to the man sitting beside her. “We understand that you have a very busy schedule.”

  I felt a little guilty sitting there with my parents so oblivious to the secrets that hid behind this superficial exchange of words.

  “I do,” Anthony responded. “But, there’s always room in it to extend a helping hand… I’d like to try and meet with Kirby again this week, if that’s okay with you?”

  If we had a script, Anthony definitely wasn’t sticking to it. Where was his wherewithal?

  “Of course,” Mom said. She didn’t even have to think before she answered. Dad simply bobbed his head up and down.

  “How about Wednesday?” Anthony asked, turning his attention toward me. I hadn’t spoken yet and was still speechless. Like Dad, I simply bobbed my head up and down.

  “Wonderful,” Anthony said. “Come by my office around—”

  “Hold on,” I interjected. It took me a second, but I remembered. “I have an interview on Wednesday, at 3:00,” I said.

  “Oh, Kirby,” Mom whispered, leaning toward me. “You can reschedule that if you have to. Here Mr. Swift out and see—”

  Now Anthony interrupted Mom. “That’s okay, Judy,” he said. “If Kirby has an interview at 3, we can work around it.” He looked at me coolly yet curiously. “Just come by my office after you’re done. I’ll tell my secretary to expect you around 4 or 4:30.”

  “That’s very accommodating, sir,” Dad said, edging his way into the conversation. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Anthony said. He smiled at Dad, and Dad smiled back. In fact, smiles were exchanged all across the table, though my smile felt more forced than ever.

  What Anthony had just did bought us time, or, at least, it bought us time together, but I didn’t understand why he had to go about getting it the way that he did. Why did he have to show up at Rakama and do something t
hat amounted to asking for my parents’ approval? And, what was he asking their approval for anyway? He was asking them to approve a meeting, not a relationship—and, we were ever to have any type of relationship, how would he explain this away later? Did he even see us having any type of future together? What was I—his plaything?

  My mind was racing again, along with my heart. I was so confused. I was frustrated and relieved, on-edge and at-ease, and I jolted slightly when a waitress showed up at our table.

  She had a bag in her hand, which she handed to Anthony. He took it from her, looked at us, and smiled. “Guess I’ll be going now,” he said, lifting the bag.

  “Thanks for the chat,” he told my parents before turning to me. “I look forward to seeing you Wednesday,” he said with a coolness that warmed me.

  As Anthony walked away from our table, some of my tensions left with him. His coolness really had warmed me and melted away a lot of my concerns. If anything, once he was gone, I was rather impressed by what he’d just done. He’d managed to arrange a date with me, right in front of my parents without their knowing—and, on top of that, he’d managed to get his take-out a hell of a lot quicker than we got our food.

  Chapter 11

  So where’s this interview?

  The question popped up on my cell phone about 20 minutes after my parents and I got home from Ramaka. Our bellies were full and we’d talked about Anthony’s visit to our table exhaustively, so, as soon, as we got home, we all went our separate ways.

  I was changing out of my clothes when Anthony’s message rolled in, and, as soon as I saw it, I felt a tingle in certain parts of my body.

  Dessert Oasis, I texted back.

  Sweet, Anthony replied instantly.

  I wracked my brain for something cute to say in response. But, luckily, I didn’t have to think much longer.

  Then, after your interview, you have another important meeting, right? Anthony replied. I’m sure both will go well. :)

  Humor is one of those things that’s hard to sense via text message, but I could tell that Anthony was trying to be funny. I hope so, I replied.

  Sorry about tonight, Anthony texted a moment later. I’d wanted to address the issue myself, but didn’t know if I should, or could, type about it on my tiny phone.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about you and had to see you again, just to look at you and see you better off than you were when I left you this afternoon.

  Something inside my chest fluttered. If I was a romantic, I’d say it was my heart. But, the practical side of me would have said it was the raw fish swimming in my tummy.

  I’m glad I could make plans to see you Wednesday, Anthony added with another text. Let’s lay low until then. But, when the time comes, so will you… I promise. :P

  Anthony was still trying to convey humor via text, and, this time, he added flirtation to it. I smirked at his message and felt a ball of warmth swell in my belly, then I texted him back.

  Until then, I typed. And, when the time comes, so will YOU, too.

  I waited a minute or two before setting down my cell phone, just in case Anthony texted something else. When I was satisfied that he wouldn’t, I put the thing down and laid back in my bed. The moment my head hit my pillow, I realized that I’d just lived an incredibly intense day, from start to finish. More things—good and bad—had happened to me in this one day than had happened to me in months, maybe even years, before, and something about that fact was invigorating. It made me feel alive and surrounded by, even if not full of, energy.

  I knew that I had a long road ahead of me as far as many things were concerned. I still had to deal with this situation with Anthony, both with Anthony himself and, possibly, with my parents, and I still had to deal with my situation with my parents. I was still living at home with them and was still unemployed, and they probably still thought I was dating.

  There was a lot of chaos I had to clean up in my life. But, if I was able to tolerate what I tolerated today, I was pretty sure I’d be able to deal with it. The thing about going through hell is that, once you’ve done it, you’ve got a good idea of the layout.

  With my Dessert Oasis interview and me “meeting” with Anthony only a couple days away, it looked like some of that chaos, quite possibly, could clear up. And, what didn’t clear up then, I’d clear up later. Everything would be okay… I knew it.

  Maybe the warm Saki at Ramaka came with a slow burn. I felt a little giddy as I laid there in my bed. I wasn’t drunk, but I felt intoxicated. My head was light, and my cares were gone, and I was foolishly proud, and foolishly optimistic, about every aspect of my life.

  My eyes started to feel heavy, and I knew that the drunkenness I felt was the drunkenness of tiredness. I was only inches away from sleep, and my body could no longer fight it. I drifted off to dreamland, though I slept so soundly I don’t think I dreamt.

  The next morning, I awoke, rather abruptly, to the sound of screaming. I looked at the digital clock next to my bed. It was 9:23 a.m., which meant I’d slept about nine or ten hours.

  The screaming came from outside my window. I ran to it and saw London and his dad arguing outside, in their driveway.

  “You deal with it, London,” Mr. Gallagher said as he got into his car. “I’m already late for work, and I’m not gonna wait here for the guy any longer.”

  “But, Dad,” London shouted. His father peeked his head out of the car window and shouted back before he could continue.

  “It’s your fault anyway,” Mr. Gallagher said. “You let that guy into the house. You gave him the keys… and he robbed us! So you should be the one to deal with the police when they get here, not me.”

  With that, Mr. Gallagher rolled up his window and drove away, leaving London standing, barefoot, in the driveway. As the car sped away, I saw London start to cock his head and look up, and, quickly, I darted back from the window, hiding myself behind the curtain.

  I spied out from behind it and saw him looking up at my window, but I was confident he hadn’t seen me. But, wow, what I had seen… what I had seen sure was something.

  I guess that Luke fellow—the pool guy—ended up robbing the Gallaghers?!?! How and when did that happen? Talk about things happening right under your nose! And, the whole thing actually made me feel kind of bad for London. First his blackmail plan fell through, then he hands the keys to his parents’ multi-million-dollar home over to someone who robs them. He sure didn’t have good luck!

  I slunk away from the window and went off to the bathroom to take care of my morning business and freshen up before deciding what to do with my day. It was Tuesday morning, and I had nothing planned until late Wednesday afternoon, and what I had planned were big things, which made it seem like it’d be a million years before Tuesday morning gave way to Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t know what on earth I was going to do with myself in the meantime.

  Chapter 12

  Once upon a time, I had more than four dozen T-shirts in my closet, 26 pairs of jeans, and 18 hooded sweatshirts. I also had about twenty dresses, twenty blouses, and a score of skirts, shorts, and trousers. But, by Tuesday night, I had about half of that.

  Yep, that’s what I decided to do all day to distract myself. I cleaned out my closet—and my dresser—to rid myself of my excessive and outdated clothing. I hadn’t gone through it in years, and hadn’t gotten rid of anything since I was a teenager, so it was an arduous task, and I knew it would take the greater part of a day, which is exactly the amount of time I needed taken away from me. The time between “now” and “then” would have killed me if I didn’t have something to do with it.

  I’d bagged up several garbage bags full of designer clothing and accessories and was planning on delivering them to the thrift store the next day, before my other appointments. That was part of the itinerary I’d come up with for myself while sorting through my closet.

  I figured I’d start getting ready around 10 a.m. tomorrow morning and leave home by noon. I’d drop my donations off at the
thrift store as soon as I got to town, and I’d stop in and have a leisurely lunch at a causal eatery close to Dessert Oasis, and wrap my meal up just in time to show up a wee bit early for my interview. Then, after that, I’d be off to Anthony’s office.

  My plan was a great one. But, the one thing I hadn’t planned on was the time that would pass between making the plan and executing it. Before tomorrow came, I still had to get through the rest of today. Cleaning my closest helped me get through a lot of it; but, it was now nearly 11 p.m. I was exhausted, and my body ached a little. But, I knew there was no way I’d be getting any sleep. I felt like a child on Christmas Eve. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow and what it could hold for me. I had the possibility of a job and a relationship—of some sort—on the horizon.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t fall asleep. Sure, I drifted off a few times, but I’d wake up just as quickly, and I couldn’t maintain anything solid or steady. After tossing and turning in bed for a couple hours, I decided to do something more useful with my time, and started sorting through other things in my room.

  I ended up collecting another bag of things for donation. This one was filled with stuffed animals, knickknacks, and home décor items. I set it with the others, near my bedroom door, around 7 a.m., which is when I finally felt like I’d be able to catch a few Z’s.

  I laid down, and, like a lightbulb hit with a baseball bat, in an instant, I was out. It felt like I’d only been sleeping a matter of moments when the alarm on my phone rang, alerting me that it was 9:45 in the morning… It was 9:45 on Wednesday morning!

  As exhausted as I still was, I jumped out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. I wasn’t going to shower yet, since I didn’t want to start my day too much ahead of time, but I had to pee—and, then I was going to refill my bladder with a tall glass of orange juice.