Perfect Little Plan

by Jennifer Miller

  Picking up my phone off the bed, I see that Rixton continued to text me while I was in the shower.

  Rixton: You can’t be mad at me, I’m too sexy.

  Rixton: I will make it up to you, I promise. Let me show you ALL the ways on Saturday night.

  Rixton: I will get down on my knees and beg – with my mouth.

  Rixton: I keep thinking about the marshmallow on your lips. You tasted so sweet. I want more.

  Rixton: Seriously, Red, I’m sorry. Walking away killed me.

  Each text sends a thrill through me that I can’t contain. He’s so cocky and sure of himself and it makes me crazy. But underneath, he’s vulnerable and that’s the part that makes me want to relent. I’m just about to type out a response when my doorbell rings. I’m surprised to find Henry, the doorman, at my door. “Hello. These were delivered for you earlier. I tried dropping them off, but you must have been out.”

  “Thank you so much, Henry.”

  He smiles and hands me a large bouquet of sunflowers. “No problem, Miss. Lexington. Have a nice evening now.”

  “Thank you. You too.”

  As soon as I get inside, I set the flowers on the kitchen island and pull out the card. A scratchy barely decipherable scribble says, “I’m so sorry I had to cut our evening short. Let me make it up to you. R.”

  I head back to my bedroom, intending to text him, then decide I’d like to have the flowers with me, so I pick up the vase and bring them to my room. Sitting on my bed, I grab my phone and type out a reply.

  Me: Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.

  Not even a full minute later, the texts start coming in again.

  Rixton: Not as beautiful as you.

  Rixton: Do you forgive me? Say you’ll go out with me again.

  Rixton: I want another chance to kiss those lips of yours. They’re haunting my dreams. What are you doing to me?

  Biting my lip, I ignore his texts and decide it’s a good night for a facial mask. I pull my hair into a bun on the top of my head. Then, I spread my favorite green goo all over my face. Leaving it to dry, I return to my room and stand there, hands on my hips staring at my phone. Giving in, I quickly tap out a reply.

  Me: I can’t go out with you Saturday night. I have plans, sorry. Thanks again for the flowers.

  There. I was nice and thanked him again. Grabbing the polish I selected earlier, I begin painting my nails. The polish is deep purple and I add a silver sparkly accent to the ring finger of each hand. I’m admiring my work when my phone dings again… then again…. and again.

  Carefully, so I don’t smudge my polish, I push in my password and view the texts I’ve received.

  Rixton: Plans? Break them! I promise I will make it worth your while.

  Rixton: I want to see you.

  Mixed in is a text from Olivia: Thanks again for coming with me today! I love the bridesmaid dress we picked out. I wouldn’t want to do all of this with anyone but you. Love you!

  Not knowing what to say to Rixton, I ignore him for now. I use my voice command to send a reply to Olivia telling her I love her too. Then I go into the kitchen and carefully pull out a frozen pizza from the freezer and preheat the oven. Walking into my living room, I pick up the remote and flick on the TV. A new episode of Supernatural is on tonight and I’m excited to watch!

  Flopping back on my couch, I wait for my show to start. I miss watching it with Olivia. Really… I just plain miss Olivia. She’s been spending more and more time at Luke’s place. I mean… of course she has. I wouldn’t expect anything less, but I still feel her absence. The only reason she still comes here is because she’s indulging me. She doesn’t want to leave me alone. I need to have a talk with her because I know she’s going to move into Luke’s after the wedding, if not before. I need to tell her it’s okay. I’ve loved having her here the last year. I still remember how excited I was when she finally moved back after her nasty divorce. So excited that I completely decorated a room just for her. When she arrived, we were inseparable and I find myself missing her a lot sometimes. But still, her happiness is much more important. I need to tell her it’s okay if she wants to move out now. I’ve just been avoiding the conversation for selfish reasons and it’s not right for me to have done that.

  After hearing the oven beep its readiness, I check my nails making sure they are dry, then happily put a pizza in the oven and set the timer. I’m taken off guard when the doorbell rings again. Looking through the peephole, I see Henry standing there again. When I open the door and see his eyes widen, it occurs to me that I still have the green gunk all over my face. Awesome. “Uh, hi again Henry. Please ignore the sea monster you see before you.”

  Henry clears his throat trying to remain professional, but I swear I see his lips twitch as if he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Miss Lexington. These were delivered for you.”

  He hands me a huge bundle of bright red balloons. With a wink, he does smile this time and walks away. “Until next time, Miss.”

  “Goodbye,” I murmur wondering if my face is flaming as red as the balloons in my hand under the green facial. I see a card attached to the balloon’s ribbon, so I pull it off.

  I smile and laugh. He’s ridiculous. I mean, balloons! What are we? Six? I don’t think he’s going to give up. Staring at the balloons, I have no clue what the hell to do with them. Shaking my head in amusement, I take them to my room and tie them to my door handle. Picking up my phone I send him a text as I make my way back into my kitchen. “Thank you for the balloons, but I think I’ll pass on the saloon.”

  With a ding, Rixton texts back as I’m getting the pizza out of the oven.

  Rixton: I will take you anywhere else. A platoon? Buy an antique spittoon? We can dance a jig while someone slaps spoons? We can listen to some tunes? Gaze at the moon….

  Laughing, I reply, “Please stop. You are so cheesy!”

  Rixton: I can’t help it. You better just agree to a date so that I’ll quit!

  Me: Okay fine, I’ll think about it okay? But really, it would have to be another day. I can’t go out Saturday night.

  Rixton: Darlin’ I will take you any way I can get you.

  I think a long time before sending my next text because I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. Will he have one? Will it just draw me in more? For the thousandth time I ask myself why I even care, then I type, “Why are you being so persistent? Why me? I don’t get it.”

  He doesn’t text me back. He calls me.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  His voice brings an involuntary smile to my face. “Hi, yourself.”

  “I really am sorry about last night.”

  I grab the pizza cutter from the drawer and cut my pizza in even triangles. My stomach is growling. “I know you are. You’ve made that pretty clear between the flowers, texts and balloons.”

  “Good. That was the point.” I hear rustling on the other end of the line and I wonder where he is. What he’s wearing. How much he may not be wearing. I am totally thinking like a dude. “You asked me why you. I feel that my response warrants a phone call and not a text.”

  My brow furrows at how serious he sounds. I lick my fingers after placing a couple of pieces of pizza on my plate. “Okay… sounds serious.”

  He chuckles, “Don’t sound so nervous. Look, Red, all I can say is that there’s something about you. I’m still figuring out what it is exactly, but you create a fire in my blood that started the minute my lips met yours. It won’t let go. It won’t die out. It’s raging and burning and refuses to be extinguished. It’s clear that one night with you, wasn’t enough. I want more.”

  “I don’t know how much more I can give you, Rixton. You and I… we aren’t… what I mean is… this relationship or whatever it is, isn’t going to go anywhere.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean the same thing I’ve been saying. I don’t know how to get you to hear me. I have a specific plan for my life and I�
�m not sure there’s room for a detour with you.”

  “Wow,” he laughs, “you sure are great for a guy’s ego. A detour, huh?”

  “Hey, you asked. I’m just trying to be honest.”

  “You’re right I did ask.”

  My throat feels dry. I feel myself wanting to relent, to give in to his words and admit to him that I feel a need for him screaming inside of me as well, but I can’t. This is hopeless. “Rixton, I had fun with you that night. It was definitely… a night to remember. And our date at the steakhouse was a lot of fun. Truth is, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m attracted to you and a huge part of me wants to get to know you better. But, I just don’t think this is going to work.”

  “How can you say that? You haven’t even given it a chance.”

  “I just know, okay?” I walk to the living room and set my pizza on the coffee table, but then walk to the window and look out. I can see the magnificent mile, Navy Pier and Lake Michigan from this window – at night, the view is simply stunning.

  “Fuck that. What kind of answer is that?”

  I sigh and try to shake the feeling of sadness that wants to emerge from my heart, “The one you are getting.”

  “No, Pyper. I don’t accept that.”

  I think that’s the first time he’s used my name. It makes me realize how serious he is about this. “Well, you have to.” He’s not listening and it’s making me angry. “Besides, you aren’t even my type.” I throw that out there because I want to push him away. Because making him angry is easier to deal with.

  He laughs deep and dark, “That sure is funny, because I seemed like just your type when you were writhing around breathless with me inside you.”

  Now he’s done it. I can hear the growl and anger in his voice and now I just want to lash out. “I can’t go out with you Saturday, Rixton, because I have another date. Sorry. That’s all I have to say about this.”

  There is complete silence on the other end and for a moment I think he’s hung up.

  “A date?” He spits out the word like it’s a curse – fierce and sharp.

  “Yes, a date. Thanks again for the flowers and balloons. I’m sure I will see you around again because of Luke and Olivia. I want to be friends, okay? Seriously. I don’t want what happened between us to make things awkward. No hard feelings, okay?”

  “Oh darlin’, there is going to be lots of hard feelings. With you, naked. Just you wait and see. I’m not going away. You want me – just as much as I want you. That fire between us isn’t normal, and I’ll get you to admit it. I can’t wait. I’ll see you soon.”

  He hangs up the phone, leaving me to stare into the night contemplating his words. The view blurs before me, and all I can think is ‘shit.’ That doesn’t sound good.

  THE WAITRESS LEADS R.J. and me to our reserved table. The restaurant is packed. The club restaurant is opened to the public on the weekend and it’s always this way. It’s a good thing we have reservations.

  Our table is near a large glass window, overlooking the pool. The Italian restaurant is lovely and serves great food. The club, however, remains a bit old fashioned, requiring all men to wear jackets. The décor is a soft cream with Old World gold accents everywhere. The Tuscan influence is evident. Gold candle sticks, gold gilded picture frames on the walls, even cream flowers with gold accents. Crisp linens and candles dress every table and the lights are purposefully kept low, creating an intimate ambiance. It always reminds me of a wedding reception type locale, as it feels a bit romantic – and certainly more than I care for tonight, but I’m choosing to ignore those sensations and get through this night of obligation.

  The hostess hands us our menus, then recites the featured wine and entrée specials. “I would love a glass, please.” I’m going to need some alcohol to get through this evening. That’s for sure.

  “I’ll take some too, thank you,” R.J. tells her. The hostess pours a tasting glass for R.J., he nods, and then she fills our glasses. Meanwhile, I take in R.J. He’s not bad looking by any means. With blonde hair and blue eyes, he has what some would call all American good looks. His nose is a bit too large for his face, but it isn’t horrible. He lacks significant symmetry and his coloring is a bit bland. I pause my thoughts, aware I’m being overly critical, recognizing I’m totally comparing him to an amber-eyed man that takes my breath away without even trying.

  Dressed in a well-tailored, navy blue suit, he certainly looks nice. He put an effort into his appearance, which is evident by the meticulously styled hair, complete with just the right amount of gel. Too bad I don’t feel one iota of attraction for him. At all.

  Taking a sip of my wine, I browse the menu to decide what I’d like to order. “I don’t come here too often, but pretty much everything I’ve had, has been good. I’m partial to their lasagna; their alfredo is good too.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you don’t come here very much. We rarely miss a weekend at the California country club where we belong. I enjoy golf and they have one of the best courses in the state. Plus, it seems they have a different party every weekend for one reason or another. It’s usually a pretty good time. A lot of younger people attend.”

  “That’s cool,” I respond, taking a sip of my wine. It’s crisp and has a slight after taste of apples. Delicious.

  “Yeah it is.”

  He proceeds to name drop various celebrities and sports athletes he says he hangs out with at the club. I’m not sure if he’s expecting me to be impressed, or maybe just interested in the conversation. I’m neither. I couldn’t care less. “My parents socialize with most of their friends there and my mom has a ladies luncheon every two weeks, so they frequent it much more than I do.”

  “Hi, I’m Holly. I’ll be your waitress this evening. Do you have any questions about the menu?” R.J. and I shake our heads no, so she takes our orders. R.J., who orders before me – such a gentleman – goes with the lasagna I suggested, and I decide to try their ravioli.

  When Holly leaves, R.J. and I look at each other in awkward silence. I sip my wine trying to fill in the quiet, not having a clue what to discuss with him. “So, you said California, huh? Do you like it there? I mean other than the country club?”

  “It’s great. I really like being so close to the ocean. Our home is right on the water in Malibu. I enjoy surfing when I’m not working, so it works out well.”

  “Our home? You have roommates? That’s cool.”

  “No.” He clears his throat, “I still live with my father.”

  “Oh. Cool.” Seriously? He has to be at least my age, twenty-six, if not older.

  “My dad wants me as close as possible. He’s teaching me all the ins and outs of his business, fully intending for me to take over one day.” He leans forward across the table and lowers his voice, “Between us, it will likely be sooner rather than later. I think my dad is approaching retirement. He and his new wife want to travel, and that’s hard to do when you’re running a software company.”

  “I imagine that would be the case. New wife, huh?”

  “Yes, his fifth.”

  I choke on my wine, “Oh, wow.”

  “Yes. Not many women can handle the demands of my father’s career. He has very specific expectations; therefore, he doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for women that aren’t able to support him the way he expects.”

  Seriously? I’d like to tell him his father sounds like an asshole. “What are your views on that? Do you think having a busy career makes having a relationship difficult?” Could this conversation be any more boring?

  “I understand where my father is coming from. I think it’s important to find a woman that understands that the needs and demands of the business will often come before her own. I’m sure you understand what that’s like. Your father must stay very busy.”

  “Yes, he is very busy. Yet somehow he’s managed to find a balance and stay married to the same woman for twenty years.”

  “That is definitely impressive, but I’m sure
that it’s just because your mother knows exactly how to do what your father wants. Most likely as long as she follows his rules, then they are fine.”

  “I’m sorry, what? Rules?”

  “Yes, you know. Hosting his work associates at a moment’s notice. Dressing appropriately to support his image. Being loyal. Attending all kinds of events. Being understanding of his long hours and that the job comes before her.”

  We hold eye contact, my annoyance with him clearly displayed on my face, I’m sure. We are interrupted by Holly, “Here are your salads.” I’m thankful for the interruption, because a moment more and I may have said something I wouldn’t be able to take back.”

  I pick up my fork and take a bite, chewing slowing, using the time to calm down. I decide a change of subject is the smartest idea, “What do you like to do for fun besides surf?”

  “I don’t really have a whole lot of time for fun.”

  “You see that’s something that I just don’t understand. I get that running a business is oftentimes maddening and time consuming, but I think if you don’t take time to take care of yourself that you’ll just get burned out. And we all know that burn out lends to inefficiency and ineffectiveness, let alone a grumpy attitude.” I smile slightly.

  “The money motivates me to care more about my business than having fun.”

  “Well that’s too bad for you. Life is more than just work. And money. And yours will pass by in no time and you’ll wish you had enjoyed it while you could. Plus, haven’t you ever heard the term that money can’t buy happiness?”

  He scoffs, “I’m sorry, but what do you know about it? A woman’s place is to care for her husband and help run the household. I know you aren’t married yet, but surely your father has already taught you that much.”

  It takes everything I have in me not to pick up my fork and stab him in the eye with it. I am going to kill my father for doing this to me. Is this really the kind of man my father wants me to marry? Is this the kind of man I’m going to end up with because I’m so determined to marry a successful businessman, an entrepreneur? One that cares more about how deep his pockets are, and how smoothly his business runs, than about nurturing a loving relationship with me? I know my father loves my mom. I can see it in the way he looks at her. I’m not stupid enough to believe that every successful man is like the wannabe sitting before me, but in the circles my father moves in, how likely am I to find a good one? One that has values that I can share and possesses qualities I want to support?