Tailor-Made

by Yolanda Wallace

  “You’re such an asshole. And I don’t have a fear of missing out.”

  Joey scooted out of reach after Dakota took a playful swipe at her leg. “I might be an asshole, but it’s not like you to take a pass on an opportunity to meet someone new.”

  Dakota’s smile faded as she turned back to the images of the French countryside flashing across the simulator. “I think I already did.”

  “Yeah? Tell me all about her.”

  “How much time do you have?”

  Joey turned off the neon Open sign in the bike shop window. “Loads.”

  Dakota glanced at the chalkboard menu above the bar. “I’ll have a bottle of Kronenbourg and a plate of buffalo wings, Whit. This could take a while.”

  * * *

  Grace and her date had agreed to meet at the Tea Room, a gay bar within walking distance of both Grace’s office and her house. Grace had hoped to get to the bar early so she could scope things out while she waited, but Dakota’s late arrival had thrown her off schedule. She hated being late. Even if, as in this case, she was technically still on time.

  She walked into the Tea Room and paused to get her bearings. Most of the usual suspects were in attendance, but she did spot a few unfamiliar faces. Which one was she supposed to be looking for? Lynette hadn’t shown her a picture of the woman she was meeting tonight. She had only said her name was Renee, she was twenty-eight years old, and she was a personal trainer based out of one of the most exclusive gyms in Manhattan.

  Once she started searching in earnest, Grace spotted Renee right away. And wished almost as quickly that she hadn’t let Lynette talk her into this.

  Renee was standing in front of the crowded bar staring at her reflection in the mirror behind it like Narcissus falling in love with his own image. She had a gorgeous body and she obviously knew it. Despite the unseasonably cool temperatures outside, she was wearing a barely-there tank top that showed off the muscles in her impressive arms, shoulders, and upper back. Her jeans fit more like tights, hugging her round butt and flared thighs like spandex instead of denim.

  “I should have known Lynette couldn’t be trusted.”

  Grace had been friends with Lynette Walker since junior high school. They knew each other better than they knew themselves. And Grace knew Lynette well enough to know that if Renee was as great a catch as Lynette had made her out to be, she wouldn’t need help finding dates.

  Grace felt like she had gotten played. But she wasn’t about to get played for a fool. After spending a few minutes watching Renee practically make love to her reflection, she turned to leave. She thought better of it before she reached the door. Though her first impressions were normally spot-on, perhaps she was seeing what she wanted to see instead of what was actually there. Deciding to give Renee a second chance, she forced herself to stay. She made her way through the growing crowd and over to the bar.

  “Renee?”

  Renee turned away from the mirror, set her drink down, and fixed Grace with a lingering look that was naked in its appraisal. She nodded as if to say, “I can work with that,” then stuck out her hand. “You must be Grace.” She indicated a pair of empty bar stools nearby. “Have a seat and tell me what you’re drinking. The first round’s on me.”

  The first round? She must have liked what she had seen during her thorough visual inspection. Grace’s spirits lifted. Perhaps she had passed judgment too soon. She climbed on a bar stool and ordered a tequila sunrise.

  Renee made a face. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Why?” Grace asked, shrugging off her coat. She had been looking forward to the drink all afternoon. Longer than that, really. She abstained from alcohol during the week so she could keep her head clear for work. The sacrifice often made the first drink of the weekend feel like a celebration. After the long week she’d had, she could use some good cheer. “Do you know something I don’t? There hasn’t been another produce recall for E. coli, has there?”

  “Not that I know of. Between the grenadine and the orange juice, that’s way more sugar than you should ingest in one sitting. One of the rules I teach my clients is you should eat your fruit, not drink your fruit. A glass of bottled orange juice contains more sugar and calories than a can of soda.”

  Grace thought she had agreed to a blind date, not a lecture.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

  Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Renee responded before she could. “She’ll have a skinny margarita.” She turned to Grace after the bartender left to gather the ingredients he needed to prepare the drink. “You can thank me later.”

  Grace wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t feel like arguing. “How long have you been a personal trainer?”

  “Five years. I started out small. Now I have a roster of about a dozen clients. That’s not counting the various celebrities I train on the side. I would tell you their names, but most of them have asked me to sign confidentiality agreements in order to maintain their privacy. For the amount of money they pay me to get them in shape for their next movie, TV show, or concert tour, I’m willing to sign anything they want.” Renee took a sip of her drink. Something see-through and probably sugar-free. “How much do you weigh?”

  “Excuse me?” Apparently, no one had told Renee it wasn’t polite to ask such questions in general, let alone on a first date.

  “You look like you’re somewhere between a size eight and a size ten.” Renee slipped two fingers in her back pocket, pulled out a business card, and slid the card toward Grace. Grace glanced at the card but didn’t reach for it. “I could get you down to a size six in no time. A four if you’re really dedicated.”

  “And have me looking like a balloon-headed stick figure like Oprah did when she lost sixty-seven pounds and traipsed across the stage in skintight jeans? No, thanks. I’m fine the way I am.”

  Renee frowned in disapproval. “I’ve always been health-conscious. I expect any woman I date to be as well.”

  Grace didn’t appreciate Renee’s condescending attitude. “How do you know I’m not health-conscious? Just because my body doesn’t have zero percent fat doesn’t mean I don’t care what goes into it.”

  “Perhaps, but I see definite room for improvement. Don’t you want to be the best version of yourself that you can be?”

  “Of course, and that version includes exercising three times a week, eating in moderation, and splurging on the occasional piece of cheesecake, not giving in to body shamers who want me to starve myself in an attempt to achieve their ideal of beauty. Could I stand to lose a few pounds? Certainly. Who couldn’t? But if you can’t see and appreciate the woman I am instead of the one you want me to be, that’s your loss.”

  The bartender placed Grace’s drink in front of her. She took a sip and found it was not only lacking in sugar and calories. It was also lacking in taste.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Renee said. “Do you want to start over?”

  “No, I think we should call it a night. Thanks for the drink.”

  Grace grabbed her coat and walked out. She wanted to kick herself for going against her own instincts. If she had followed her gut, she could have avoided this tedious—and testy—encounter. Outside, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and called Lynette.

  “What did you think of Renee?” Lynette asked without bothering to say hello.

  “Beautiful body, ugly personality.”

  “She just takes some getting used to, that’s all. She’s direct. Straight to the point.”

  “She’s also rude, obnoxious, and stuck on herself.” Grace decided to walk instead of hailing a cab to give herself time to calm down before she got home.

  “Okay, yeah, she is, but did you see her arms? They’re to-die-for. Anyway, since Renee didn’t work out, I know someone else you might like. Her name’s Karin and she’s—”

  Grace cut in before Lynette could finish making her pitch. “I’ve had enough of your matchmaking for one night, Nettie
. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She ended the call and shoved her hands in her coat pockets as she continued on her way. When she made it to the corner, she saw Dakota speeding along the cross street. Dakota had ditched her mangled bicycle in favor of one that looked as fast and as sleek as a greyhound. When Grace raised a hand in greeting, Dakota must have thought she was trying to flag her down because she braked to a stop and joined her on the sidewalk.

  “Where did you get the new wheels?” Grace asked.

  “A friend of mine owns a shop not too far from here. She sold me this bike after we put my old one out to pasture. Where are you headed?”

  “Home. My date didn’t go as well as planned.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “That’s not what you said earlier.”

  Even by the soft glow of the streetlight, Grace could see color rise in Dakota’s cheeks.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been told I have a knack for saying all the things that are often best left unsaid. How far is your place?”

  “It’s about a five-minute walk,” Grace said warily. She hoped Dakota didn’t expect her to invite her in for a nightcap because she wasn’t in the mood to play happy hostess. Or anything else, for that matter.

  Dakota seemed nice enough, but based on the articles Grace had read about her, everything was a joke to her. She didn’t seem to take anything seriously, especially relationships. Why would any woman want to trust her heart to someone like that?

  “Would you like a ride?” Dakota asked. “You can be my first passenger.”

  Grace took a long look at the bike’s skinny tires. “Those don’t look substantial enough for one person, let alone two.”

  “You never know until you give it a try.” Dakota climbed off the bike and moved closer. “Hop on,” she said, patting the handlebars.

  Grace let out a nervous giggle. “I haven’t ridden that way since I was a kid. The last time I did, I fell off and nearly broke my neck.”

  “So is that a no?”

  Grace thought it over. The idea that a grown-ass woman—in a skirt and heels, no less—would pass up traditional methods of transportation in order to climb on a relative stranger’s handlebars seemed abjectly ludicrous on one hand and delightfully frivolous on the other.

  “If you’re worried,” Dakota said, “I’ll let you borrow my helmet.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Then what are you waiting for? I won’t let you fall, Grace. I promise.”

  Dakota unbuckled her chin strap, pulled off her helmet, and held it out. To Grace, the move felt like a challenge. Logic said she should have shrunk from it, but Dakota’s promise made her feel like nothing could go wrong.

  Grace grabbed the helmet and cinched it into place. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  * * *

  Dakota had offered to be Grace’s ersatz Uber driver on a whim. Now she had to figure out how to make the idea work. She held the bike steady and offered her shoulder for support while Grace tried to climb on the handlebars.

  Grace let out a squeal of alarm when she slipped and nearly fell. The death grip she held on Dakota’s arm nearly took them both down. Bracing her legs, Dakota wrapped an arm around Grace’s waist until she regained her balance. The helmet she had loaned Grace drooped over one of her eyes like Veronica Lake’s famous peekaboo curls. Dakota used the tip of her finger to nudge the helmet back into its proper position.

  “Are you okay?”

  When Grace met her gaze, she looked both determined and adorable. “Take two.” Grace hitched up her skirt and tried again. Her second attempt was touch-and-go for a while but ultimately proved successful. “I did it.” She sounded surprised—and a little pleased with herself.

  Dakota took a second to savor the sight of Grace perched on her handlebars like a queen on a throne. “Hang on. Here we go.”

  She walked the bike forward a few steps to gain some momentum, then started pumping the pedals as hard as she could to make sure she didn’t lose it. She wobbled a time or two as she struggled to get up to speed, but it was smooth sailing once she found her rhythm.

  Grace’s scent—light and citrusy like a summer day—made Dakota feel homesick. She wanted to take her to Georgia and get to know her while they sat in a porch swing and shared a pitcher of sweet tea.

  A honking car horn snapped Dakota out of her reverie. “Where to?” she asked, swerving to avoid a pothole almost as deep as the Grand Canyon.

  “Take a right at the next corner. I’m two blocks down on the left.”

  Dakota made the turn and let the bike coast on the slight downhill slope. She didn’t want to build up too much speed because if she had to hit the brakes in a hurry, Grace might go flying off. The ride was going well so far. She didn’t want to be responsible for dredging up bad memories.

  “Over there.” Grace let go of the handlebars long enough to point out a set of three-story brownstone row houses. Each house was painted a different color. Some were a muted gray or conservative off-white while others were as bright as Easter eggs.

  “Which one’s yours?”

  “The sepia one with the pot of begonias on the stoop.”

  Dakota crossed the street and gently squeezed the brakes to slow their speed. “Those are pretty. Do you like plants?”

  “My mother does.”

  “Oh, your mother lives with you?”

  “My whole family does. My parents live on the first floor, my sisters are on the second, and I’m on the third.”

  “How did you get lucky enough to have a floor of your own?”

  “The third floor is the hottest one in the house. No one else wanted it, so I called dibs.”

  Dakota stopped in front of the sepia brownstone, then offered Grace her hand to help her climb down. “What’s wrong?” she asked after Grace gingerly stepped on the sidewalk.

  Grace grimaced as she placed her hands on her butt. “It looks so romantic when couples do that in the movies, but no one ever mentions how painful it can be to sit on an unpadded metal bar.”

  Dakota couldn’t hold back the laugh that erupted from her. Nor did she want to. “I would offer to rub out the kinks, but I’m afraid you might take it the wrong way.”

  Grace unbuckled the helmet and tossed it to Dakota. “Is there any other way to take a comment like that?”

  “I could think of several,” Dakota said with a grin. “In case you’re wondering, unless it’s an incredibly hot day, getting caught in the rain is overrated, too.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind the next time the weatherman says I should grab an umbrella on my way out the door.”

  “You do that.” A slight movement over Grace’s shoulder caught Dakota’s eye. She looked up to see someone peeking out the front window. “I think we have company.”

  When Grace turned around, the figure let the curtain fall and quickly moved away from the window.

  “That would be my nosy sister checking to see if I got lucky tonight.”

  “Did you?” Dakota asked before she could stop herself.

  “In a way,” Grace said mysteriously as she climbed the steps.

  When Grace reached the top of the stoop, Dakota felt like Romeo staring up at Juliet on her balcony. A rose by any other name.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Grace said.

  “Anytime.”

  Dakota waited until Grace was safely inside before she began to make her way home. She secured her helmet, then turned her bike toward the nearest subway station so she could take the train back to Greenwich Village. She told herself not to turn around, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to have one last look.

  When she sneaked a peek at Grace’s brownstone, someone was looking out the window again. Except this time it wasn’t Grace’s sister staring at her. This time, it was Grace.

  * * *

  “Oops.” Grace closed the curtains and backed away from the window. Dakota had turned around unexpectedly and had nearly caught her staring. “
That was close.”

  She turned to head upstairs, but her sister Faith was standing in her way, a half-empty plate of food in her hands. “You certainly changed your tune in a hurry.”

  Grace knew exactly what Faith was referring to, but she tried to play it cool. “Where is everyone?”

  “Mommy and Daddy are at church and Hope is on a date.” Faith sat on the couch and propped her feet on the coffee table, a sure sign that their mother wasn’t home. If she had been, she would have been yelling at Faith to get her feet off the furniture. Charity Henderson was a firm proponent of the notion that a lady should keep one foot on the floor at all times, whether in mixed company or not. “Don’t try to change the subject. That was Dakota Lane you were talking to, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “You’ve always said you don’t find her attractive because she looks too much like a boy.” Faith speared green beans with her fork and waved them in the air as she made her point. “A very pretty boy, but a boy nevertheless.”

  Grace grabbed a piece of baked chicken from Faith’s plate. “I never said she wasn’t attractive,” she said, going back for more. “When have you ever seen a model who wasn’t gorgeous? But that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her.”

  Faith stabbed at Grace’s fingers to prevent her from pinching a piece of corn bread. “That’s not what Lillie said.”

  “Oh, God.” Grace got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What rumor is she spreading now?”

  Faith’s eyes twinkled the way they always did when she had a juicy secret she wanted to spill. “It’s not a rumor if there’s truth behind it.”

  Grace sighed in exasperation as she headed to the kitchen to fix herself a plate of leftovers for dinner. “Just tell me what she said.”

  “That you and your new client were so busy making googly eyes at each other you could barely get her measurements right.”

  Grace lifted the lids to see what was in each pot. “Mom never cooks this much on a Friday night. What gives?”