Cole

by Xyla Turner

  Accurately enough, he shared he knew I’d still be an active member in my charity organization. I’d probably been divorced a couple of times. I would relax and lay low after all the fame and fortune came. I’d wisely invested my money into good stock and was frugal with spending. He’d been accurate on all counts. That led to my next question of how that knowledge would help pair me with a mate. He shared those tidbits had everything to do with a mate. He had an important call, so I excused myself to the waiting room, since he was making time for me.

  Sitting on the expensive leather sofa, I leaned forward to nab the first magazine on the pile of many and started to flip the pages. Up until that point, I was the only one in the waiting room but then the door opened and in walked a woman with a smart phone to her ear. She stopped at the receptionist booth, put the phone against her chest and spoked quietly, probably giving her name. Instead of coming farther into the waiting area, she lingered on the outside with the phone to her ear.

  “Darling, that’s fine as long as you’re fine with it,” she said with a melodic voice that was smooth as velvet.

  Taking her in, she had a nice toasted almond coloring to her, dark hair with big shoulder-length waves and a three-piece suit. She wore stockings and mid-sized, black heels. The woman was curvy, and the suit looked tailor-made for her. Her lips were burgundy colored which went well with her shading like they were meant for that hue.

  Her eyes were a deep, dark brown, sharp and assessing any and everything, even though she was distracted by the phone call.

  “And, I said, that is fine,” she continued. “I support your decision to be with a buffoon who will leave you high and dry. Is that what you’d like for me to say?”

  I nearly choked with laughter when it registered what she’d just said.

  “I’m your mother and I care about you. I said it was fine and when the inevitable happens, you would like me to say what exactly?”

  Oh, I liked her.

  “Oh, don’t say anything just support you.” She nodded her head. “I see, darling. Well, here lies the problem. I only support smart decisions and you know this. The reason you’re conflicted is because you know this is a foolish one and you would like me to cosign on foolishness. That is something I simply cannot do. I love you. I’ll always love you but sometimes love comes with making the hard decision to love you from a distance, and of course, tell you the truth. I’m a mother and the fact—” She stopped speaking. “Hello?”

  The woman extended the phone away from her ear, looked at it and shook her head. She dropped the device in her clutch under her arm and glided over to sit across from me. She made eye contact, and it felt like we were old friends. I easily said, “Bad boy, good girl and no happy ending.”

  Her mouth slid into an easy smile when she said, “More like bad boy and girl and hell no to the happy ending.”

  I smiled too.

  Easy.

  “You have any kids?” she asked leaning forward to get a magazine.

  “No, I don’t,” I admitted. “After that conversation, I’m a little grateful.”

  This time, her smile morphed into a small laugh.

  “Was it that bad?” Her eyes lit with amusement. “Months of therapy with this girl and I’m supposed to listen to her, let her explain and support her. How do you support following after a boy around the country who is trailing behind a band?”

  My eyes grew, and I leaned forward and asked, “She’s following a band?”

  She mimicked my actions and said, “I would actually feel better if she were following a band or a band member for that matter. My lovely daughter is following around after a band groupie who can’t play an instrument to save his life.”

  After she said that tidbit, the woman turned the top part of her body to the side, swung her right leg over her left, rocked back in her seat and gave me the side eye as if to say, ‘You know that ain’t right’.

  That little number had me laughing out loud while she simply shook her head.

  “Not the drummer or even the guys who set up the show. Nope, a roadie.” She kept shaking her head with her lips pursed.

  Damn.

  “Well,” I offered. “At least, she’s traveling.”

  “Oh, aren’t you the optimist?” She smiled and then uncrossed her legs to lean to one side just like a professional woman would. “Such a shame you don’t have any kids; I have nothing to tease you about. Oh, I mean, to be optimistic about.”

  The woman was funny and had a quick wit. I was about to tell her she could tease me anytime, but Roger’s voice boomed from behind me. I turned to see my friend standing in the doorway with half of his body leaning out from the threshold.

  “Cole, man. Sorry about that. Come on back to my office.” He was smiling from ear to ear. He looked to the side of me and saw the woman. “Ah, Ms. Wade. It’s so good to see you finally. I’ll be with you right after Cole.”

  “Hey, Roger,” she called to him as if they knew each other. “That’s fine.”

  “Yeah,” I said to him and then I turned to her and said, “Nice meeting you Ms. Wade.”

  I stood up to leave, but I didn’t want to leave without getting her information. So, I asked, “Do you have a card?”

  She gave me another side-eye and noted, “You don’t even know what I do.”

  “True but I know you made me laugh more in five minutes than I have in a while.” I shrugged. “I’m sure your daughter will have more shenanigans soon.”

  She laughed again and this time I found myself staring at the beautiful woman with her mouth wide with glee and the lightheartedness about her manner.

  What was she doing here?

  “We’re here for the same reasons,” she finally said. “So, how about if by date three, they are all losers, then I’ll call you?”

  “Cole,” Roger called, but I waved him off.

  “Nah.” I shook my head. “Too much of a chance. If you give me your number, you’ll never have to worry if I’ll call.”

  That was extremely forward and almost desperate, but I didn’t care. That woman, Ms. Wade, I wanted to know more about her.

  “You are a cutie but my offer stands,” she said with a smile, just like she called her daughter’s boyfriend a buffoon. “I’m committed to the process.”

  All of it with a soft smile.

  My heart was racing at the possibility of losing her or even the connection we had. It was with such comfort and familiarity we easily chatted and laughed. She had a daughter, but I was okay with that. Hell, she wanted to tease me about something and I wanted to give her the opportunity. A working woman, like herself, didn’t strike me as the type to have a lot of time on her hands but she was here and committed to the cause.

  “As she should be,” Roger chimed in as he stood next to me.

  I took the necessary steps over to the receptionist to grab a notepad. I wrote my name, number and the words, Call Me, at the bottom. Tearing the sheet, I brought it back to the lobby. Ms. Wade sat waiting with a sly smile as if to say, come get it. I placed the sheet in her hand, bent down and whispered close to her ear, “Use the number. Talk, drink, dinner, laugh or even to tease me. I have a laundry list of items to choose from.”

  Her hearty laugh rang close to my ear, and I almost wanted to bend down to stop it with my own lips. Instead, I rose to my full height and repeated, “Use it.”

  “Three dates.” She waved the paper in front of me between her two fingers. “Three.”

  “Come on man.” Roger patted me on the back. “You promised three dates, too. Remember, the process.”

  I almost told Roger what he could do with that process, but instead I walked through the door to his office.

  “Man, what was that?” he asked. “You’re not here to get hooked up. Well you are but by using the system. Le One.”

  “I want a date with her,” I said with no room to argue. “Nobody but her.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Roger shook his head. “Come on man, w
ork with me. Ms. Wade might be a fit or she might not. We have to look at the comparable but remember it’s random with the top choices from your application and your friend’s recommendations. Which is me.”

  “Roger, I want a date with her. I’ll do whatever promo you want me to do but it’s with her,” I repeated. “It has to be with her.”

  As I should have known, Roger’s eyes grew wide but then his facial features returned to normal.

  “What if you try the three dates…” He held up his hand. “Hear me out. Even if I would match you or even lie and say you were matched. She would not trust it. She’s committed to the process. She will want her three dates that aren’t you. Then, I swear to God, I’ll set you both up on a date myself if I have to.”

  As much as I wanted to protest, he had a point. She wouldn’t do it or anything unless there were three dates.

  “Fine,” I agreed. “Three.”

  “Perfect,” Roger said with a clap of his hands. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 3: Dates

  Bethany Wade

  Date one had not been what I had expected from Le One. It seemed the machine started at the bottom of the pile when it chose which people I should date first. Ethan Wickers was a reclusive engineer who barely answered any question loud enough so I could hear him. At least three times, I had to lean in and ask him to repeat what he said.

  Then he had the nerve to huff, roll his eyes, while blowing out an exasperated breath, like I was annoying him. It felt like I was talking to Jiminy Cricket and he was annoyed. After that little display, I said loud enough so even the waiter could here, “This isn’t going to work out but good luck.”

  Quickly standing, and looping my purse around my shoulders, I made my exit. Before I went home, I stopped by the ice creamery. I ordered two scoops of butter almond for my troubles.

  The second date was in two days. If that was anything like the first, I would demand Roger have Curtis do the questionnaire sheet again. There was no way I’d be compatible with a recluse and surely not a mute. Life was too short for that.

  The second date, David Niles, was five times better, but this guy was more interested in himself than he was interested in getting to know me. He liked to hear himself talk and after the fifth, ‘I’ve got a story for that too’, I tuned him completely out. I had nothing to take my focus off his constant chattering. So, I sat quietly and ate everything on my plate. At the end of his conversation, the man had the nerve to lean in for a kiss at my truck.

  I kindly placed my hands on his chest and said, “I think a kiss would mean I had a good time. Have a nice evening.”

  Slipping my body inside my truck, I drove off with an open-mouth David staring at my retreating vehicle.

  This time on my way home, I stopped by one of my favorite coffee shops and ordered an iced coffee with a warmed cinnamon bun. They were absolutely delicious and especially when they were heated. This time, when I went home, I saw my voice mail light on my home phone blinking. The only people that had the number was Bryce, my ex-husband, and my daughter Brittany.

  Pressing the voice mail, I heard the somber voice my daughter used when she really needed something.

  “Mom, this is Brit. I just wanted to apologize for hanging up and let you know I’m in Denver, Colorado and I wanted to come home for a bit. I’m out of money though. If you need to reach me, I’ll be staying at the Westline Hostel in Bearbanks. Here’s the number. Hope you get this message in time.”

  Beep

  The utter nerve of this girl calling my home number, and leaving a message, instead of actually calling my cell so she could speak with me directly, was not left unnoticed. So she could say what she needed to say in a way she wouldn’t get a response and it’d play on my heartstrings.

  What she didn’t know is I was not Bryce, and I did not make it a habit of bailing her out when I knew full-well, she had made a decision to do exactly what she knew not to do. It wasn’t that I was a horrible mother, I simply wanted to prepare Brittany for life outside of the four walls of my home and as long as she knew Mommy and Daddy would bail her out, she’d keep on doing stupid shit.

  She was twenty-three years old, didn’t go to college, never could hold down a job, no real career aspirations and her father still gave her an allowance.

  I had failed.

  At marriage, rearing a productive citizen and the only thing I had done well was my job that I was retiring from in six short months. Then what the hell was I going to do?

  I put Brittany’s message out my mind and sat down on my oversized loveseat with the intentions of watching the Walking Dead. Rick, the main character in the drama, zoomed in and he slightly resembled my bearded friend from Le One. The man, Roger had called him ‘Cole’, had been on my mind lately. A lot, to the point, more than I was willing to admit.

  Cole was cute in a rugged sort of way. Hell, who was I kidding, the man was gorgeous. Even beyond all of that facial hair, which had my fingers itching to grab it to pull him down to me. That move he did, whispering in my ear, caused a rapid flap of butterflies in my stomach. All I could do was respond with sarcasm. Those pale blue eyes promised wicked things I would gladly participated in when the three dates were over.

  Curtis, my co-worker, and also a friend of Roger, met his girlfriend of almost two years through Le One. I’d lost a bet, and a client. As retribution he made me apply and he’d filled out my form. He and I had been co-workers a long time, and he was there for me through my divorce seven years ago. There were many a night the wine had gone to my head and he drove me home to sleep it off. He was the one to suggest I take some time off. I went to Paris, on that suggestion, for three months and saw the sights. A tourist for two weeks was one thing, but living there for three months, that was the dream. This ignited my want to travel which also prompted me to put in for my retirement six months away.

  When I was propositioned by the gorgeous man, named Cole, I tried to find my base. It wasn’t my nature to throw caution to the wind, say screw the process and just start dating the first guy that throws a compliment. That would be something Brittany would do and after bailing her out of situation after situation, I would not indulge in the same fool hardy behavior.

  Quite frankly, I was too old for that.

  I felt the connection. But, if it was really a connection, then I wholeheartedly believed the two of us would meet again. Was that casting fate to run its own plan? Maybe, but I was okay with that. I also believed, even when Bryce decided to leave me, there were no accidents. He thought I was a cold fish. During one of our many arguments, he said he wanted a divorce. I told him, ‘okay’.

  There was no fight, fuss or even a bat of an eye. I’ll never forget the look on his face, it was as if everything we’d shared for twelve years came to a head and a new dawn shadowed over him. He was done. He thought I didn’t care whether he stayed or went. That was never the case at all. But, if he thought, without any marriage counseling or even the suggestion of it, we needed a divorce, then who was I to stop him? Everything happened for a reason and that was no different.

  My phone buzzed, pulling me from my post-divorce thoughts. It was a confirmation of my third date, which was oddly enough right on time. This guy looked promising, but I refused to get my hopes up after the first two guys. This was definitely looking great for Cole which was also something I tried to not get my hopes up about either.

  We were going to meet tomorrow night at the Chatteu, a private club and restaurant for the elite. I’d never been because that wasn’t a place I’d ever take my clients and I heard some interesting things could happen there. Was it first date material? Well, I’d reserve my commentary until after the date.

  The next day, around noon, my personal phone rang three times, signaling it was something important.

  “Hello,” I answered before looking at the caller id.

  “Beth, have you heard from our daughter? She said she called you and told you she needed help but hasn’t heard from you yet? What is
going on? She’s trying to come home. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” Bryce spewed all of that without greeting me.

  “Hello Bryce,” I said as a reminder about greetings.

  “Fuck!” he hissed. “Have you heard anything I said? I know you can be heartless, but I thought that was reserved for just me. This is our daughter, and she needs our help–”

  Before he could continue his diatribe about the ‘ours’ and ‘we’, I interjected. “Then you help her. I’m not stopping you from enabling a twenty-three-year-old who’s decided to follow her roadie boyfriend around as he chases some band. I told her that wasn’t practical or feasible. How would she make it? How was she planning to survive? She stood flat-foot in my house and shared I needn’t worry because she had everything figured out. Therefore, Bryce,” I lowered my voice so it was soft and calm again. “I suggest you let our daughter do that. She’s spoiled rotten and feels Mommy and Daddy will always bail her out. Therefore, she keeps doing these asinine things. Then, she calls me on my house phone and leaves a pitiful message. Now, she’s ringing you, but she has yet to call my cell phone. Do you want to know why, Bryce? That’s because she knows I see through her bullshit and yours too. We’ve been divorced seven years and still I’m the heartless bitch? So, let’s do it for our daughter? No, if you want to bail her out, once again, please know you’ll always be bailing her out. I love her just like I loved you, but both of you are grown, capable of making your own decisions. Therefore, you do NOT get to blame me for your outcomes.”

  I calmly tapped my finger on the red END call button and continued doing what I was prior to the disruption. The nerve of him. The nerve of her and this is what made me take an early lunch. Then, I was tapping the number of a man I knew I’d eventually call even when I said I wouldn’t.