by June Beyoki
Clarke looked down at her manicured nails and tapped them on the table, feeling weird sitting there and waiting for some man to bring her food and coffee. This was why she avoided being with a guy between the hours of seven a.m. and ten p.m. She looked up to see Joe staring at her while wiping up one of the tables across from her.
“You know, if you keep scrubbing the same table like that, you’ll have to repaint it,” she commented, feeling more annoyed with him than usual.
“Someone is in a bad mood. Trouble in paradise?” Joe asked with an irksome grin, walking over to her and sitting down in the chair next to her. He nodded over to Vince who was waiting on the order at the other end of the counter.
“We’re not really…” She stopped herself, realizing that she was about to let the cat out of the bag. “We’re fine, Joe,” she said harshly.
“Well, you know I’m always here if you realize you made the wrong choice.” Suddenly, he didn’t seem so cute or funny anymore. Joe was officially annoying her. It was feeling almost like harassment.
Luckily, Vince showed back up, standing in front of Joe and clearing his throat. Joe jumped up and went back behind the counter without another word. “What was that all about?” Vince asked, setting her coffee and sandwich down in front of her.
Clarke ran her finger through her hair and let out a long breath. She tried to loosen up her shoulders and failed. “He’s hit on me every day for the last six months or so. It’s now gotten to the point of feeling harassed.” She said the last word loud enough so that others could hear. She saw Vince get a nervous look for a second before digging into some peanut butter crackers he got.
“Shouldn’t you be flattered? I wouldn’t make such a big deal about it.” Vince shrugged and popped another cracker in his mouth. “So, what is it that I need to know about this dinner or your mother or whatever it is we’re meeting about?”
As if she wasn’t already upset and annoyed enough, how casual he was being about the whole thing just made her feel like she was about to have a nervous breakdown. “Look, I gave you an out, and you’re still welcome to take it if you can’t take this seriously.”
“Clarke, I can tell this is a source of a lot of negative feelings for you, but if we’re going to be pretending to date, then you’re going to have to learn to relax and let go just a little and do something a little more care free and less planned once in a while.”
She was about to snap at him again, but it wasn’t really him she was mad at. He was almost a stranger, and he’d come to her rescue. The least she could do is give him the benefit of the doubt. “Fine. I’m sorry. It’s just that for the last 33 years she’s been making me feel inadequate, and she’ll tear you down just the same if we aren’t ready for this.”
“She’s really hurt you, hasn’t she? And yet you still care what she thinks. It’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” She nodded at his statement. It was her harsh reality. “So, what’s so bad about her?”
“Nothing’s good enough, and she doesn’t believe I’m truly capable of anything. I thought the shop would prove her wrong, but it hasn’t so far.” Clarke shrugged. “Anyway, she’s a lawyer and is all about perfection and arguing the winning side and all that. She has made a lot of really high society friends over the years, but don’t ask me how. She goes to these parties with them. They’re really formal and stuffy with lots of weird and expensive food and banter about money and vacation homes. Sometimes they talk about their children, bragging about their accomplishments. She tends to compensate for the fact that I don’t have any by having some thinly veiled insults passed across the table. Anyway, I think she invited you because she was calling my bluff. She knows I don’t really date like that. She wants to expose us in front of everyone somehow; make one of us break and tell the truth maybe.”
“We have two choices, the way I see it. Either we prove her wrong and make our dating for real, or at the end of all this we can declare ourselves Best Actor and Actress at this year’s Academy Award,” Vince said while looking at her in a strange way and continued, “What exactly do you mean by you don’t really date like that?” Vince asked curiously.
“That’s not important,” she shot back, feeling too vulnerable already.
“If I know nothing about you, especially about your dating history, then that is really going to make it obvious that we’re lying. I’d say it’s very important.” She knew he was right, but explaining her love life to someone else suddenly made it sound worse than it had always seemed to her.
“I don’t date at all, okay? I find a certain comfort of having the occasional, sometimes more than occasional, man in my bed, but that’s where it ends. I generally never see the person again unless I need something.”
“That actually sounds kind of sad, Clarke. You’re really missing out.”
“You’re crazy,” she scoffed. “Most men dream of finding a woman that can give them what they want without any attachment. The only thing I’m missing out on is being stuck with someone; being tied down or being heart broken.” She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.
“Those are not men; they are boys. And they are liars. Deep down, we all want more but are too afraid to go for it. Guys are bad at failing. You’re missing out on the adventure of being in love. That is a tragedy, Clarke.” Clarke glanced up into his eyes for a moment and then looked away.
“Love is a joke; something made up. It doesn’t last,” she responded, matter-of-factly.
“How do you know? Have you ever been in love?”
“No, but I know someone who was.” Her mind drifted back to the picture of the blonde man with the pretty eyes who had his arm around her mother. Love had turned her mother into a bitter perfectionist when she used to be this beautiful care free young woman.
“Well, I know that if love came along for me, I wouldn’t want to miss it even if I knew I’d only lose them in the end. But I’ve always wanted to experience everything out there, you know?” But back to this dinner party. What should I wear? I don’t know if my wardrobe is that up to par with what all these rich people are going to be wearing.”
She looked Vince up and down and made a face at his dirty torn jeans. Hopefully he owned something else because he was right. “Think Sunday best or nicer if you have it.”
“What’s nicer than my Sunday best?” he asked, sitting forward in his seat and pulling up one eyebrow questioningly.
“You’ll find out Friday,” she answered with a grin. If nothing else it was going to be fun seeing him try and interact with her mother’s snooty friends.
Chapter Twelve
Clarke looked at herself in the mirror that stretched the length of her closet door. She had opted for a flowing, Grecian style indigo dress with a split up the right side. It was sleeveless and made her look like she had bigger breasts than she actually did. She had placed a silver clip in her hair to hold it back from her face. She looked a lot like an old Hollywood star, ready to attend a red carpet event. At least she looked the part even if she couldn’t play it very well. Though, she was sure as usual her beauty would drive her mother nuts.
A knock came at her door, and she grabbed her clutch and walked out, locking the door. She wanted to get it over with. Vince looked taken aback by her rush as he struggled to keep up with her pace as she led the way towards her car. They had compromised on how they were getting there. She’d wanted to go separately, but Vince had pointed out that wouldn’t look good. So, they were taking her car. Clarke knew that a white pickup wasn’t going to get them very many points at the party.
Vince was able to rush in front of her and open her door for her. She looked at him for the first time, noticing his nice jeans without any tears with a lilac shirt tucked in and a black suit jacket. He actually looked pretty good. “You clean up well,” she commented before climbing into the passenger seat. He followed, coming around the car and getting into the driver’s seat. She laughed as he adjusted the seat backward and down. She had never had a man i
n her car before, so she didn’t realize just how small a space she left on the driver’s side.
He took off towards the address she’d already plugged into the GPS, and they sat there in silence on the way there until he finally turned on the radio. Now, instead of whistling, he was singing along to none other than “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns N Roses. His voice was surprisingly good, but she chose to ignore it and looked at the window, watching the apartments and average size houses turn into large custom builds behind large gates. She found herself wondering about networking while she was at the party, but her mother had probably already poisoned them all against her. Hell, they probably remembered her from years past as Ms. Bennett’s pitiful spinster of a daughter. Perhaps she wasn’t that unlike Elizabeth Bennett.
Once there, she found herself feeling jittery and held onto Vince’s hand even as they walked up to the dark blue door that led into the room where her fate would be decided. Was her mother going to figure them out? Was she going to embarrass her?
Luckily, it wasn’t her mother who answered the door. It was a tall man in a suit that looked like it had been around for the last 50 years; a butler. He gestured them to go to the dining room where a group of overdressed people sipping out of champagne flutes. Clarke spotted her mother near the front of the group chatting it up with the Colemans. Was she really still pushing that one?
She met eyes with her ex and looked away quickly, inadvertently squeezing Vince’s hand harder. Hopefully her mother hadn’t already talked to him and set up some kind of old world betrothal; not that Clarke would put that past her.
“Oh, Clarke!” her mother called, weaving through the crowd to get to her, causing everyone to turn their heads and watch. It was the only time her mother would even pretend to be enthused with her presence. Her mother got to them and leaned over far, kissing Clarke on each cheek like some French movie star. Clarke didn’t respond, just plastered an even smile on her face. Mrs. Bennett was wearing a fur shrug that made Clarke feel sick over a dark green wrap dress that probably cost way more than it was worth. “So, I see you brought your boyfriend,” her mother said with a wink. It was going to be even harder to convince her mother than she thought.
Vince let go of her hand and snaked his arm around her body to her hip, tugging her to him. Clarke mirrored his stance, taking cues from him. She would have to leave the talking up to him since he definitely seemed to be more convincing than she was. “It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Bennett,” Vince said, nodding to her. Mrs. Bennett’s eyes trailed down to where their hands were and back up, making her disposition turn as she narrowed her eyes.
“Same to you,” she replied, a little shorter. “Well, now that everyone’s finally here,” she said loudly, like she wanted people to know it was Clarke and Vince holding everyone up even though they were on time according to the information they’d been given. “We can all have a seat and get started.” She waved her hand in the air and ushered the couple towards two seats that were labeled with name cards. It put Clarke between Vince and her mother, and they were directly across from the Colemans. It was clearly a purposeful setup.
Clarke bounced her knee under the table nervously as two butlers in suits came around; one with plates and silverware and the other following with food. She watched as everyone smoothed napkins over their laps with perfection and sat up straight in their chairs. Clarke was sure her back would break if she tried to sit that straight. As the men came up to them, Vince’s hand slid over to her knee to still her leg. His hand felt warm and strangely calming. She glanced over at him for only a second to see him mouth, “Calm down.” Then, she watched her plate as the second man placed two meatballs in some kind of sauce that smelled unappetizing on her plate.
Everyone remained quiet as the man serving the food came around three more times with roasted asparagus, rice pilaf and a stuffed date. For all the trouble that the cooks went through to make the food, it wasn’t going to be that satisfying.
Clarke looked over at Vince sympathetically, thinking he was sure to be pushing the food around on his plate with a sour look on his face. But instead, she saw him digging in the minute everyone had been served, downing the food in record time. She wasn’t sure if he did it to be respectful as fast as possible so he couldn’t taste anything or if he was actually enjoying it.
“You know you don’t have to take this that far, right?” she told him, leaning in to whisper into his left ear.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, shooting her a look as her leg began to bounce again. He squeezed her knee harder, forcing it to be still again. She was sure he was leaving fingerprints in her skin, but she also needed his support. “This stuff is great. Food can be such an adventure!” he whispered excitedly back to her. Before she had a chance to comment, her mother spoke up.
“What are you two love birds whispering about over there?” Mrs. Bennett asked with that underlying hint of hatred and annoyance that only Clarke’s ears were tuned into.
“Vince was just singing the praises of the food, that’s all,” Clarke answered, trying to keep it together. Her mother was starting to poke at their armor, and she knew the worst part was coming.
“Oh, is that so?” her mother asked with wide eyes. Clarke was sure she could see the wheels turning as her own mother tried to think of ways to use that against her. “Well, at least your date has good taste, even if you don’t.” Mrs. Bennett let out a cackle after she said it, like that would suddenly make the thinly veiled insult better if it seemed like a joke to her.
The Colemans laughed politely and dabbed at their faces as Clarke felt eyes on her from several people at the table.
“It’s so nice to see you again,” Mrs. Coleman said in hopes of changing the subject. “And with a man by your side.” Clarke tried not to roll her eyes or do anything rash. Vince somehow sensed that she might have a problem and moved his hand from her leg to her arm, rubbing it up and down in a comforting way. Husbands were nothing more than status symbols in her mother’s world. Clarke wasn’t single because no one wanted her; she was single for so long because she didn’t want them. She wanted to be successful without emotions and other commitments getting in the way and causing messes that couldn’t be cleaned. Plus, why weren’t they on her mother’s case for being single?
“It’s nice to see you again too, Mrs. Coleman,” she said quietly, taking a few bites of the asparagus.
“So, what have you been up to lately? We haven’t seen you in a few years,” Mrs. Coleman continued, eyeballing her son like she was asking all these questions for him. No way was he that hung up on her. Her mother had been up to something.
“Well, I got my business degree at…” she began, but she was promptly cut off by her mother.
“She’s been dabbling in some things for a while now, you know, exploring her options. I think, though, that she’s almost done with that and getting ready to really settle down and do something great; maybe even be a full time wife or something. I’ve been looking into some of my connections to help get her a more stable career, so keep your eyes out. Isn’t that right, Clarke?” Mrs. Bennett turned to her daughter with pleading eyes and a big fake smile. Clarke nodded and then looked over to Vince for help. There was no way she could stay sitting there after that.
Vince nodded to her plate which was still mostly full. So, she sighed, turned to it, and began to eat a little bit, downing her glass of wine in between bites until at least half of the food was eaten. “Well,” Vince began, clearing his throat. “I thank you all for having us, but if you could excuse us, I have work really early in the morning and need to get going. Again, the food was fantastic.”
Vince stood up and pushed in his chair before helping Clarke to her feet and pushing in her chair as well. They walked slowly to the door as the man form before opened it for them, knowing that there were dozens of eyes on their backs.
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as they made it out to the car, Clarke let out a breath she did
n’t know she had been holding. It was like she hadn’t taken a good breath at all while she was inside that house. Vince was still holding her hand, trying to comfort her in any way he could. She leaned up against the car, putting her forehead up against her forearm. She just breathed in and out, trying her best not to sob. She wasn’t a big crier; never had been. In fact, only her mother seemed to bring it out of her. But she needed to suck it up. She forced the tears away and turned around, letting go of Vince’s hand and slumping over.
“I know you’re upset, but we should probably get out of here,” Vince suggested, looking at her sympathetically. That was exactly why she didn’t want him or anyone to be exposed to that. She didn’t want sympathy, just to be seen separate of all of that drama. She nodded, though, knowing he was right. The last thing she wanted was for her mother or someone else to catch her out there looking upset. She let him help her into the passenger seat and shut the door before coming around to get in the car himself.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” she begged through gritted teeth. “I don’t want that.”
“Okay,” Vince agreed with a simple nod. As he started the car the radio came on, but he turned it down as he slowly pulled off of the street. “So, do you just want me to take you home?” he asked. Clarke looked over at him curiously still sniffling a little.
“Not really; what’s on your mind?” she asked, surprising herself by actually wanting to know. He had really saved her back there, and it had impressed her a little.
“Well, I thought after that you could use a little fun, but I know you don’t like that word very much,” he teased with a wink. “I was just wondering if you’d let me take you somewhere for a bit,” he clarified.
Clarke shrugged, knowing that she would just go home and sit on her bad mood all night if she didn’t go with him. If she was pretending to date him, then why not just let him show her how to have fun? “Alright, but this is not a date.”
