by Leanne Davis
When she stopped and looked up at him expectantly, he asked, “You’re ready?”
She hesitated. “Don’t I look it?”
“I’m used to Erica. She takes about an hour and a half from start to finish. It only took you about ten minutes.”
“I don’t look like a beautiful, tall, blonde model.”
“No. But I sure like the difference in waiting time.”
She followed him out of his room and the condo after he grabbed a leather jacket, his keys and his wallet. Then he took her hand in the hall, and waited for the elevator. He felt her stiffen when he grabbed her hand, and she glanced at him, looking unsure. He ignored it, and continued to hold her hand as he would any date he’d just slept with. He didn’t know what else to do, but date her as if she weren’t married, weren’t separated, weren’t traumatized, weren’t in love with her husband, and weren’t in love with him. He only knew he should date her like they were average and normal, with every reasonable chance of becoming a couple.
What other choice did he have?
Once on the street, he glanced down the sidewalk. The daylight was fading into twilight, in the cool, clear Seattle air. Streetlights were already coming on, and lights shone from random windows up and down the buildings that towered over them. He started up the street, towards the waterfront. She came along, quiet as always, with her taking two steps to his one. Her hand was small in his, and to him, it felt like holding his niece, Poppy’s, hand. All except the smooth gold band she wore on her ring finger, her wedding band. He felt it, but didn’t know quite what to make of it, or what to surmise.
“Nick?”
He glanced down at her tipped up face, and raised an eyebrow in question.
“Let’s not go anywhere that’s too, you know, Nick-like. Just something casual.”
“Nick-like?”
“The clothes, the car, the condo, the offices, the buildings, the hundred employees, you know the extravagance that you surround yourself in? Not tonight. Just something low key. No symphony, no fancy dinner. Normal. Like where any other couple would go.”
“Normal. Normal is not Nick-like?”
She smiled, and blushed before looking away. “No, not like you.”
“I was planning on it. There’s this seafood grill down on the waterfront, a couple of blocks. Is that normal enough? It has plastic booths and big, crusty, stained menus.”
“Sounds normal enough to me.”
They walked for a bit and finally came to it. It had big fake clams and a rope twisting around the illuminated sign that said, Seawarfs. Inside, they were seated at a booth, where they ordered and finally could look at each other over a table and drinks with some sense of normalcy on a regular date.
Joelle would hardly meet his gaze. She looked around the restaurant as if he’d taken her to the top of the Space Needle and she was overseeing the city lights. She watched people come in, and walk out, as well as the waitresses moving around. He wondered what she thought, and could only guess at what she was feeling. No doubt, guilt about being here and being alone with him like this.
She lay her hand on the table, and he reached over and casually took it in his. She looked up, startled again at the familiar contact, then nothing. But it seemed like everything to her.
She licked her lips before asking, “Did you run into Erica?”
“Yes. And yeah; she guessed why I was walking across her living room with a handful of your clothes.”
“What did she say?”
“Besides giving me a gloating smile that said she told me so?”
“Yes, besides that.”
“I don’t know. Be nice to Joelle. And oh yeah, she hates your money, so good luck with that.”
“She didn’t say that.”
“Just about. And you do.”
“I just don’t like needing it so much lately.”
“Not tonight you don’t.”
“Was Erica mad at me?”
“You? No.”
“And you two really are just friends?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I guess because our relationship never progressed much beyond the point of being friends. It’s hard to hate someone whom you never really felt passionate about.”
“I don’t get it. Have you looked at her?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve looked at her. She didn’t do it for me, I guess.”
“How could she not?”
“Because you do it for me.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and she visibly swallowed. She stopped talking. She didn’t know what to say to that.
“How long did you two date?”
He leaned back against the booth and asked with a smile, “Why all the questions about Erica? Are you trying to fix me back up with her?”
“No. It’s just where the conversation led. I’ve always wanted to know. I didn’t think it was my place to ask.”
“You can ask me anything you want, at any time. I’ve never hid things from you. Erica and I met a couple of years ago. We were dating for about a year or so before I met you. So do the math.”
“That’s awhile.”
“Had longer.”
“You have? I didn’t realize that. What’s your longest?”
“Four years.”
“What happened?”
“She moved to the East Coast for work, and I didn’t. It died a natural, long distance death.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yes, I did. If she hadn’t moved, I’d probably be married to her now. I was in my late twenties, and she was too. She was a lawyer in one of the firms I used.”
“Why didn’t you follow her then?”
“Why didn’t she stay? I don’t know. I guess we didn’t love each other enough.”
“It must be easy for you to get a date.”
“Yes. The gold-diggers crawl right out of the woodwork.”
“Don’t you hate that?”
“Depends on what I’m after, and if I care about what they’re after.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes, like with Erica, I knew she was into who I was, and that’s probably why she wanted to date me. She was way too successful, and too classy to pretend to be into me just for my money. Others are after the money, and that’s when I use it, to use them.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Should it? I’m not looking for a relationship with those women. Why would I? Sometimes I want a relationship, sometimes I just want to get laid. I told you, it depends on who I’m with, and what I’m after.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so honest.”
“I’m always honest with you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Except for when you think it’s for my own good.”
He grinned. “Except then.”
“You don’t even try to deny it?”
“No.”
“What are you after with me?”
He caught and held her gaze in a smoldering, heated moment. She dropped her eyes to her lap. “That’s best answered when you’re not married.”
Dinner was set before them. She looked down, then back up. She obviously didn’t know what to say about his Rob-statement. Maybe saying nothing was better. It was too soon. They weren’t “there” yet. They weren’t ready to discuss her husband. She picked up the piece of fish from her fish ‘n’ chips selection and bit into it, grabbing for her water as the hot steam rose up and painfully singed her mouth.
He ate some of his own, and let her eat in peace. He’d said enough for now. Her being there on a date with him, talking to him, even asking him questions was quite enough.
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” he asked glancing at her, and taking a long sip of iced water.
“Walking into a place and knowing you could buy anything?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He didn’t figure Joelle to come right out and ask him. “Something I’m used to now. At
first, it makes a person go a little crazy. I did what you’d expect, bought the clichéd cars, a house for my mother, big toys for myself.”
“And your clothes.”
“Yeah, and a new wardrobe. Now though, I don’t notice or appreciate it like I should. You get used to it pretty quickly.”
“Is that why you seem to forget it is a big deal? Especially when talking to someone like me?”
“Someone like you how?”
“Someone who can’t even grasp the amount of money you must have. Someone who doesn’t get being the owner of a building in the middle of the city.”
He hesitated. She was asking. His money affected them, whatever they were, no matter how much he didn’t want it to. And unlike most women, Joelle didn’t like what it did to her. “My money isn’t me. All it does is give me the ability to be an ass. Sure, I get respect, and people think I have power, but it’s simply because I have the money to do whatever I want. My activities are not confined or limited by poverty. I can do things, like pay for stuff you can’t, and it’s not a big deal. I know what it’s like to feel small and indebted, and how it is not to feel like that. The money allows me to sometimes be an ass where I might not have been before.”
“You’re not an ass, especially not to me.”
“I think you told me once I was a lot more than that.”
“I’ve said a lot of things I shouldn’t.”
“No, some of it you should have; and as for the other, why did you?”
“Because I hoped you’d fire me, push me away, and get me away from you. I was afraid of you. And what I felt around you.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t,” she mumbled, frowning at her half eaten fries.
“Yeah, I did. That’s why the day on the elevator, when you asked me what my money couldn’t buy, I couldn’t tell you the whole truth. My money can’t buy you. And you make me happy.”
She shut her eyes, keeping her face downturned and away from him. A heated blush started in her neck and flushed her entirely. Finally, very quietly, she said, “You don’t need to buy me.”
She started eating her fries, and he let it go, taking a deep breath. That was hard for Joelle to say. But she wasn’t ready to hear anymore. Soon they finished, and spoke of lighter subjects: music, movies, and her insipid TV shows. He pulled his wallet out to pay the bill, when he noticed her staring strangely at him.
“You’re not going to argue with me buying dinner now, are you? It is a date.”
“No. I was just staring at it.”
“At what?”
“The cash. You can’t carry around that much money. There must be a thousand dollars in there. Who does that? What if it gets stolen?”
He shut his wallet quickly. He hadn’t thought about it, and wasn’t trying to flash it. He threw money on the bill, took her arm and started out of the restaurant. “I have more. How about a movie?”
“Are you trying to shut me up?”
“Yes. How about it?”
She laughed, as she finally relaxed, looking up at him and smiling. She let him take her hand again. “Okay, a movie. Only because I haven’t been to one in years, not because I’m shutting up.”
They walked the few blocks to the movie theater. He let her choose a chick flick, that was so pop-culturish, he was surprised she picked it. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t quite as rebellious, or anti-popular anything as she pretended. Still he didn’t mind. It felt normal to sit there in the darkened theater, her shoulder close to his, and his hand over hers. Aware of her every fidget, every head turn, and every laugh. It was like being back in high school on a first date with his yearlong crush beside him. Except this was much better.
The city was dark by the time they came out into the streets. Lights and shadows were dancing along the sidewalks and car-lined streets as people moved about, heading to various establishments. He took her back to his place, and didn’t bother to ask if she wanted to go home. She didn’t argue, or point out why she shouldn’t. She quieted down though, and her posture became more cautious as they walked the hallway towards his front door. Still, she didn’t protest when he unlocked the door and motioned for her to go in first. He turned on the lights as he passed through the penthouse, pulling her along with him to his bedroom. He couldn’t stop marveling that somehow, he’d finally managed to bring Joelle Williams home with him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nick moved around his room, as comfortably in his skin, and the situation, as if he’d been alone. Joelle, on the other hand, stood there, bobbing her weight from one foot to the other. What should she do now? He kicked off his shoes, removed his watch, unbuttoned his shirt and walked into his closet. She stood in the dead center of his room, stiff and unnatural.
Their night had been like the first date she’d never managed to enjoy in high school. Never with Rob. The perfect date, except for the sex beforehand, she supposed. But that was perfect too. Unbelievable. Unexpected. Unexplainable. The date was casual, fun, and totally different than she pictured. Nick managed to actually make her feel at ease, and right. He made her feel special. He held her hand, and touched her arm, her cheek, and here or there, in casual, easy caresses. It seemed as if he just had to touch her, and couldn’t resist her. It wasn’t something she was used to. Nor could she get used to being with Nick. People looked when he entered a room, and noticed him. And he was at ease, and confident in that. She was just the opposite, preferring to hide, and shrink from any gazes and attention. She was sure everyone wondered what that man was doing with her. She wondered herself.
Now what? Why didn’t she just go home? Or push her number in the elevator? She could have bypassed all of this awkwardness. This again. She was back to feeling unsure. To feeling wrong for being there, although she wanted to be there more than anywhere else, which made her feel even worse.
“Joelle, don’t.”
Joelle turned towards Nick’s voice. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t worry. Stress. Over think it. Not tonight. It was fun, wasn’t it? And now we’re tired, and going to bed.”
“Just going to bed? Together. No big deal. Sure, of course it’s no big deal.”
He leaned against his closet door, his t-shirt, hanging loose over his pants. Her breath caught just looking at him, so relaxed, sexy, and confident. She quaked inside at how inadequate she felt next to him, yet it thrilled her in a way she couldn’t explain, that he wanted her there.
“Do you want to go home?”
She should have said yes, but instead, she shook her head no.
“Then you’re going to have to quit looking like you’re in line for an execution. It’s kind of hard on my ego.”
How did he do that? Make her smile? Make her feel less afraid of herself?
He smiled a crooked, boyish grin that instantly had her heart beating faster, and her insides twisting in happiness.
He turned and wandered into the bathroom. It had taken her a full year to get used to moving around private things like being in the bathroom with Rob. How could she do this with Nick? Nick, who she wasn’t married to? How could she start this over? Her heart raced, hammered, and yelled at her, but still, she stayed. She heard him brushing his teeth, and he called out to her he had a spare toothbrush if she wanted one.
She finally moved and went into the bathroom as he was just unwrapping a toothbrush. She didn’t believe he kept just one. She took it and grasped it as if it held the answers to her life. Then she waited for him to leave before getting ready for bed. She slipped out the door, turning the lights off behind her as she walked to Nick’s bed. He was already in it. The covers closest to her were drawn back, in anticipation of her. It was a thoughtful gesture; and one Rob never would have dreamed of doing for her. She clamped her brain down, and chided herself no comparisons, that wasn’t fair.
Nick was bare-chested. She got under the covers and he moved closer, leaning over her to click the lamp off.
She was back in bed. In a new a
nd unfamiliar man’s bed. His feet touched her first. They crossed the space she allowed between them. One of his legs lifted over her legs, enveloping her. He scooted closer, close enough she could feel his body heat and smell him. He smelled wonderful. Aftershave, she supposed. It was heavenly, light, but there all the same. She wanted to turn toward him and take a big sniff of his skin, but she didn’t. She just lay there like an inert, frozen statue.
“So do you sleep with it like this too?”
“What?”
“Your hair, do you leave it back while you sleep too? Doesn’t that hurt to sleep on?”
Her hair. “Sometimes, I do. I’m used to it, so it doesn’t hurt.”
His hand tugged on the knot at the nape of her neck. “You have a fistful of it.”
She snorted. “I know.”
“If you don’t like it, why don’t you cut it?”
“Because I do like it.”
“Oh. I thought it annoyed you or something so you kept it off your face.”
She shifted, turning towards him. He was on his side, his face close, his eyes watching her.
“No one’s ever noticed I don’t wear it down.”
“Everyone has too. It’s always up.”
“No. Seriously.”
“Even–”
“Yeah, even Rob. I mean he’s seen it down, just not while I’m out.”
“Why?”
Why? Good question. An innocent question. A question that shouldn’t lead to anything. She could simply say she didn’t like her hair down, but instead she answered, “I guess it started with my dad.”
“Your dad?” Nick flexed his arm; she had captured his attention.
“He used to tell me how special I was. He would flip my hair and say, I was the prettiest girl in the entire world. And I always believed him. Until one day, he was gone. And I didn’t know why. I thought I’d done something wrong. My mom wasn’t too sympathetic. She said good riddance, with little concern for me. Then later, after my mom went to prison, I was living with this foster family that was more of a halfway house. And I hadn’t heard from my mom, or Trina, or anyone else I knew. It was almost as if I was dead, and no one cared. I looked in the mirror one day, hating what I saw, and who I was. I thought, of course they don’t want to contact you, you’re a loser, even your parents don’t want you. So I took scissors to my waist-length hair. Hair I’d never done more than barely trimmed in my entire life. I shredded it. I made sure I wasn’t pretty anymore. I thought seriously about taking the scissors to my wrists at the same time. I was hideous. I was distraught. When my hair finally grew back, I couldn’t bear to cut it, because it reminded me of how bad I’d gotten, and the horrible things I thought about doing to myself. So I never cut it again and it kept growing, but I hated it because it was everything I didn’t want to be anymore. It was what my dad said was so pretty. So I let it grow, but I never wear it down, never again will I let it be used to make me look pretty.”
