"Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked him.
Michael was about to shake his head when his wicked nature took hold.
"Actually, I'll have a half-caf, half-decaf, with one sugar, one artificial sweetener, and non-fat whip," he said while holding in his smile.
Melanie nodded to him as if that was the simplest thing in the world and left the room, but not before Michael felt a sharp pain to his shin.
Looking across the table, he could see that his mother was not a happy camper; and her kick had been hard enough to demonstrate her anger. Her jaw was set and she glared at him. Michael could just about guess her thoughts. He was having fun, and that fun was causing his mother some embarrassment. However, it ended up working for the best, and Mrs. Angel actually calmed when Jennifer could be heard chuckling.
"It's your funeral, Mr. Angel," the young woman said.
"Oh, call him Michael, and you can call me Susan," she said. Jennifer nodded and returned to her paperwork.
"I didn't mean to cause any problems," Michael stated to the room.
"Oh, not to worry, Michael," Thomas said as he passed a document to him. "Melanie is a good person and the daughter of a long time friend. She is actually fairly smart, and when I can get her to focus, she does fine work."
"Ah, well she doesn't seem to quite fit in here," Michael stated.
His mother glared at him, and Michael couldn't dodge another kick to the shin. If the other two occupants of the room were aware of the physical abuse happening under the table, they didn't show it.
"Yeah, well that's me being kind to an old friend," Thomas said. "Her father seems to think that a serious environment will help her mature." Thomas handed another document over, and Mrs. Angel dared Michael to speak. He took that dare.
"Mature? She looks like she's thirty. It's been my experience that if a person hasn't matured by this point in life, they may never mature," Michael said in all seriousness as he took the document.
Thomas just shrugged and didn't bother to counter the logic. Instead, he turned the topic over to all manner of boring items—a durable power of attorney, medical release forms, bank authorizations, etc.
Melanie eventually returned and this time had one ear bud in her ear as she placed a cup before Michael. He was tempted to grab the other bud that dangled near him, but decided he didn't want to be that mischievous. Besides, the string that was coming out of his coffee cup and wrapping around the handle had him worried. For her part, Melanie barely acknowledged any of them; she was too deep in thought as she left the room. Michael picked up his cup and took a sip.
"How's your coffee?" his mother asked in a slight mocking tone.
Michael nodded his head and proudly proclaimed that it was the best tea he had ever had. He then smiled. His mother did not.
The meeting concluded satisfactorily and Thomas assured Michael that he would not have to return. Mrs. Angel tried to insist that Michael return and even hinted at getting Jennifer's cell number in case he had questions. Michael just rolled his eyes and politely asked Jennifer for her contact details; it was a safer tactic than ignoring his mother and having to deal with her nagging at a later time.
"Oh, you can simply call the office and they'll patch you through," she said. She then found a card in a pocket and handed it to him. He glanced at it; it was as he expected— plain and simple.
Very professional, he thought.
Those thoughts didn't bother him as he made his way to the restroom for one last trip; Jennifer was pleasant but she held no allure for him. Michael was a professional himself, and his office building was filled with women similar to Jennifer, and few of those women interested him either, except for the occasional sexual partner, but even that was difficult to deal with as he often discovered those partners had a larger interest in him than he had in them. So, in an effort to keep the peace, he kept his dating to a minimum and his sexual exploits even more so.
As he passed Melanie, who was dancing to her tunes again, he paused, smiled, and tapped her on her shoulder. She turned to him and waited; he understood her odd stare and didn't let her wait long.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.
"Why do you want to know?" she replied.
"Why does any man want to know the answer to that question?" he replied with a wicked smile. She was amusing him and he didn’t hide that fact.
"Because they want to have sex with her and don't want a pissed-off boyfriend hunting them down," she replied easily.
"Ah, well let's start with dinner and see how it goes," Michael chuckled.
Melanie raised her left eyebrow and looked at him carefully. Her initial glance was to determine if he was serious. After that, she gave him a good look from his shoes to his slacks and then his entire form. Michael felt like a piece of meat being eyed at a butcher shop. When Melanie shrugged her shoulders and said "Okay", he didn’t know if he should be flattered or insulted. She’d been very nonchalant; almost as if to say, "You'll do."
"Great," Michael said as he pulled out his phone. "How about Friday night?"
"Oh, just call me and we can set something up," she replied.
"I don't work like that. My schedule can get busy and I work by appointments," Michael stopped suddenly, shook his head, and chuckled. "That sounds bad. I just meant to say that I have learned to book a meeting when I have a chance. So, I would like a definite time and place."
"Well, I'm more of a free spirit than that," Melanie replied.
"I've noticed," Michael said with a chuckle.
"And just what do you mean by that?" Melanie eyed him skeptically.
Michael put his hands up in defense, "Nothing cruel I swear. I just noticed that you let the spirit move you and you may be forgetful."
Melanie came in closer to him and put her finger in his chest for emphasis. "That's why I said to call me. If I'm available then we'll go out. You'll just have to suffer without a definite appointment," she said as she pulled her hand back and put her fingers in the shape of quotes to accentuate the word "appointment."
"All right, how about a compromise. Would tonight after work be okay for you? That way I get my appointment," he said using his fingers as quotes, "and you get your free spirit fix by making plans on a whim."
Melanie thought about it for a moment, and the idea seemed to please her.
"All right, meet me here at five," she said. "I don't live far from here. You can walk me home, and we can get something to eat on the way."
"Okay, but you should still give me your number just in case something comes up," Michael said.
Melanie nodded her head in agreement and then rooted around her body for a pen. Michael watched in confusion and amusement as she patted herself, and when she came up empty, she began to pat Michael as if they were old friends. He could only watch her with amazement, and was unable to help her or stop her. Eventually she shook her head with frustration, headed off to an office, returned shortly with a pen, grabbed his hand, and wrote her number on his palm.
He continued to be amused and let this little pipsqueak of a woman handle him in any manner that she wished. He even noted that she took the time to write her name, as if he would forget whose number was on his hand. She even dotted the 'I' with a little heart.
Of course, he thought.
She stared at him when she was done, and Michael had to bite his lower lip in an attempt to keep his mouth shut. It didn't work, and his logical mind made him ask a daring question.
"Isn't your cell a Smartphone?" he smiled.
"Yep," she replied as she pulled it out to display it for him; the ear buds were still attached.
"Well, doesn't it have the ability to send your contact information to another phone?"
Melanie saw where he was going with this. She put her phone away, crossed her arms, and started to tap her foot. After a few seconds, she piped up.
"Do you want this date or not?" she asked him directly.
Michael held in his smile as best h
e could, but it escaped him as he spoke and he grinned like an idiot.
"Yes, I do."
"Then leave the office and come back at five. I'll meet you out front, okay?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Michael replied with a chuckle, and then left his foot tapping partner so she could get back to her work and he could get back to his mother.
Chapter 2
Michael waited patiently in front of the building and was eventually rewarded when Melanie exited at 5:15. She was late, but he quickly forgave her; she was nodding her head up and down to music and was as cute as he remembered.
His forgiveness stretched a bit thin when she looked up at the bright sky, smiled, and then abruptly took off in another direction. Michael was unsure if she had noticed him; her actions made him think that she had forgotten about their date entirely. Deciding not to take offense, he chuckled to himself and followed her.
It took him a block to catch up to her, mostly because he was amused as he followed and saw no need to interrupt her movements and head bobbing. When she was forced to stop for a crosswalk, he approached and tapped her on the shoulder. She quickly turned around and stared at him. He stared back and then smiled.
"My name is Michael Angel, by the way," he stated.
"Oh, okay. I'm Melanie Price," she said, and then without addressing the fact that she had forgotten about their date, she asked him where they were going to eat.
Michael looked around the area. He was not familiar with this part of the city, but it was full of skyscrapers and other buildings; finding a restaurant shouldn't be a problem. Melanie witnessed his confusion and offered a suggestion.
"I know of a great place a few blocks away. It'll be happy hour, and my friends usually show up," she said.
"Oh no," Michael replied. "I've been on that date. The friends monopolize the time, and I get stuck with the bill. No, thanks."
"You don't pay for a date?" she asked carefully.
"Oh, paying for a date is fine. I just don't like to pay for a play-date for a woman and her friends," he answered, and Melanie nodded her head as she began to understand.
"Okay, then where should we eat, Hotshot?" she asked him skeptically as she looked around at the local neighborhood.
"How about the Crab Pot?" he suggested. He knew the restaurant was on the pier and not too far of a walk.
"Hmm, I've never been there," she said. "What kind of food do they have?"
"Crab," Michael said plainly, and she gave him a glare. He just smiled and began to lead her down the street.
"So, Michael Angel, what kind of work do you do?" she asked him.
"I'm an architect," he replied. "I design office complexes and tenant improvements for commercial applications."
"Oh, that sounds…"
Melanie didn't finish her thought. She didn't appear to know how to finish it.
"So, how do you like working in an attorney's office?" he asked, and then after a quick pause he asked another question. "What are you, a file clerk?"
"No," she said with a shake of her head, "I'm a paralegal, like Jennifer."
Michael became wide-eyed with that comment. He found it hard to believe she was a paralegal, and when he did eventually come to grips with the idea, he had to conclude that she was definitely not like Jennifer.
Oh, well, he thought to himself, at least my mother will be amused.
In fact, his mother had been ecstatic. When they had left the law firm earlier that day, she had begun her subtle nagging, and Michael had been forced to admit that he had a date. The fact that his mother assumed it was with Jennifer wasn’t something he wanted to correct, that revision in her thinking would undoubtedly lead to more nagging.
Melanie and Michael continued to talk and eventually made it to the restaurant. Their conversation was light, and Michael found that he continued to enjoy this spunky little woman. They didn’t appear to have much in common, but she was certainly entertaining.
"Okay, so you like Steampunk, whatever that is," he said as they were seated. "How about the theater?"
"Oh, I love the theater, but not the mainstream. I like the smaller theaters and odd productions," she replied.
A waiter came and took their drinks order, wine for Melanie and a stronger drink for Michael. Michael also took the time to place their meal order; Melanie had never eaten at the restaurant before, so she just smiled and waved her hand as if to say it was all right for him to order for both of them.
"Rough day?" she asked him after the drinks were brought and he took a sip.
"Oh, it wasn't too bad, but I'm working with a difficult client. We're designing their new corporate office and the demands are tough," he replied. "I have to pitch a new company headquarters to them in a few weeks, so I have constant meetings with designers and engineers."
"I have no idea what all that means," she said as she took a sip of wine.
"It means I spend a lot of my day doing nothing," Michael replied. "I'll have two or three meetings, send out five emails, and before I know it, it's five o'clock. I barely have time to actually create the designs."
Melanie nodded her head as she tried to understand what he was saying. She then gazed about the restaurant and began to enjoy the atmosphere; Michael believed the odd look of the restaurant with its view of the water, the location on the wooden pier, and the picnic style tables with red checkered tablecloths would appeal to her. She then zoned out for a minute as she watched the patrons, and Michael had to work to get her attention back. Luckily, all he had to do was tap her hand a few times. When she looked at him with curious eyes as if to ask "What?" he just shook his head and chuckled.
The waiter soon arrived with a large stainless bowl and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the table. Michael smiled as Melanie watched the affair. Before them on the table was a mess of broken crabs, clams, oysters, and other seafood; it looked like a garbage heap.
Melanie eyed him warily as she put on a bib and he followed suit. Michael cast about for his mallet and went to grab it.
"What you have to do is…"
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Michael turned back to the table and saw Melanie beating a broken piece of crab. She had a determined look on her face and was certainly not deterred by the hodgepodge of seafood in front of her. Apparently, when she had cast her eyes about the restaurant, she had learned what to do while eating at this establishment.
A frown graced Melanie's face for a moment. Michael watched her eyeing the food in front of her. She appeared to be debating her next move, and deciding the crab wasn’t to her likening, she hit it several more times, doing so with a violence that startled Michael.
"Remind me never to get you angry," he said with wide eyes.
"Fine, never get me angry," she said as she picked up the crab with her hands and tore into it.
She ate the meat she could retrieve, set the shell aside, and then reached across the table to rip a large crab leg from a carcass; Melanie grasped the idea of this place very well and was not averse to eating with her hands. Michael smiled and thought this fit her personality very well.
She certainly is not shy, Michael thought to himself as he gingerly grabbed for a clam.
Dinner was much more of the same with regards to talking and beating of dead seafood; Michael enjoyed himself immensely. He hoped that Melanie did as well, but feared to ask her. Instead, he just kept her talking and kept himself amused with her actions and words.
"Well, I'm more of an artist," she said. "I like odd music and poetry and the alternative scene. Seattle has a lot of that."
"Does it?" he asked.
Melanie just nodded her head as she ripped open a mussel.
"Do you ever visit museums or go to the opera?" he asked her.
"Oh, I love the Rave at the Seattle Art Museum," she said. "Do you ever go?"
"I've been to the museum of course, but not the Rave. What is it?" he asked.
"It's a party at the museum. They serve alcohol, have bands, and even allow danc
ing. There's also jugglers, clowns, and other performing arts. It's very nice."
Michael nodded his head and could certainly see where she would love something like that. When she later suggested taking him to a gay bar, he became wide-eyed again. She just laughed at his reaction and gave him a wink. Michael thought she might be joking, but there was part of him that believed she was sincere.
"Michael, I think you might enjoy getting hit on by men," she said as she laughed. "I know I'd find it entertaining to watch."
She smiled at his slight discomfort, and even that turned out to be entertaining to Michael. And why not? He had been laughing at her antics all day. She certainly had a right to laugh at his. So, in the end, he smiled and agreed the idea was interesting.
"Sure, why the hell not," he said, and Melanie put on a devilish grin.
They finished dinner and began the trek back into the city. Melanie continued to amuse Michael, and she appeared to be entertained by him as well. She poked fun at his mainstream beliefs and smiled as his expression became odd when she removed her shoes and walked the city streets barefoot.
"Hey, look," she said as she pointed to a nearby bar. "You need to take me dancing."
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Michael was in shock, but allowed her to drag him across the street and into the establishment.
The place was not overly large, but it was newly remodeled, had a dark wood bar, a sports theme, several flat panels TVs, and a small hardwood floor for dancing. At the moment, the bar and seating area were half filled, but the dance floor was not being used. This fact didn’t deter Melanie, who quickly found a jukebox, inserted money, and made several selections.
"I don't dance," Michael said cautiously.
"You do tonight," Melanie replied with a smile.
"No, I don't," he replied. This time he added a headshake to his refusal.
Melanie approached him as the music began to play and put her finger in his chest.
"Listen here, Mr. Angel. You’ve been laughing at me all day. Don't think I didn't notice. Now, it's my turn to laugh at you. Now, get on that floor and dance with me," she said as she pointed to the floor.
Enticing An Angel Page 2
