by Carol May
Spotting Lana sitting across from Terrance, Rose, and some others I have met a few times I move to the group. It’s nice that Billy’s really isn’t that far from my apartment. A quick cab ride gets me home and in bed before my buzz disappears because the bar staff makes great drinks, not weak like some places. So a cab means no designated driver required. We talk, we laugh and after a couple of lychee martinis I excuse myself and head to the restroom.
Glancing down at a table, low and behold sitting alone, twirling a tumbler of some gold liquid, is the man from lunch. He seems lost in thought. I think to myself that I would like to make him smile, which makes me smile. He glances up allowing our eyes to meet for just a moment. Whew, the temperature of the room rose at least ten degrees. I give a small smile and move onward. I wonder if he recognized me.
Ready to leave the restroom, I look in the mirror, deciding I’ll speak to him. In the words of my brothers what the hell besides it must be fate that I see him three times in one day in a city the size of Miami. Yes, my hair looks good. Just a little fluff wouldn’t hurt as I bend over. Raising back up, I check my teeth-nothing on them. I reapply my lipstick. Ok ready. I give myself a little pep talk- I can do this, I can do this.
With a deep breath, I walk out ready to take one giant step moving me forward into a new experience. As I near his table, I notice, he is no longer alone. Darn! So much for me sitting down and saying hello. Mr. Perfect Hair glances up from the stunning red head that is sitting across from him and our eyes meet for just a moment. The thoughtful expression is now a scowl. I put an extra swing in my step and mumble the word smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I think this place is boring. What do you think? Do you mind if I join you?”
Looking up, I raise my eyebrows “Since you’ve taken the liberty of sitting down, why not? As to answer your first question about this establishment, obviously, I don’t think it is boring. I wouldn’t have been sitting here on my second drink,” I smirk. I see the beauty from lunch approaching me. This night might be turning around. I almost choke on my drink as I hear a gentle word escape from her luscious lips. Smile. Which I do as she walks on past. Signaling the server, I drown out the mindless chatter of the woman sitting across from me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I sit down, I decide I will have one more drink and then head home. Terrance and Lana are on the dance floor as well as Rose and Joel, I think his name is. T and Lana together, finally. The red head is still there. I was just about to turn to our server for another drink, when she sits one down in front of me. As I pick my drink up, I realize the word smile is written on the base of the glass. I automatically look to the area of the room where I think my drink benefactor is sitting but unfortunately his back is to me. I shrug my shoulders just a little, smile and take a drink. Turning to talk to those of our group that are still sitting.
After a few minutes, I stand take my “smiling” cocktail over to the windows and enjoy the beautiful view of this city. I can’t believe that my life has brought me to this place. Who would have thought? I was becoming just a little melancholy as I was loosing myself in the view. My mind is drifting back to a happier time when my life had true meaning. My life has meaning now but the direction in which I am going is a little fuzzy.
“Such a beautiful face looking at a striking view shouldn’t look so sad.”
Which causes me to glance over at the person standing beside me. He is attractive in a nerdish kind of way.
“Huntington James.”
“Hello, Mr. James, I agree the view out of these windows is beautiful. I wasn’t sad simply loosing myself in thoughts that I have to admit could sadden me.”
“Well, let’s change those thoughts by dancing?” As I stand there for just a moment, I think sure why not. We head to the dance floor, just as the band goes into their retro set of songs. Which really is better for me because some of the current music is not my taste. Who am I kidding almost all of today’s sound doesn’t fit my taste. We dance through several upbeat songs, seems if right on cue when I need a break, a much slower number is beginning. I turn to head off the floor.
“Where are you going beautiful?”
“I need a drink, I am thirsty.” As he directs me to a smaller more intimate table away from my group, I glance over and catch Lana’s eyes. She gives me a questioning look as I slightly shake my head back at her.
We each order a drink. I decide to have another lychee martini. Huntington commented that he rarely if ever met a woman that ordered one of those. I shrug my shoulders explaining that the fruit is very sweet tasting but has a tropical taste at the same time. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that Huntington James isn’t interesting. He seems nice but as we sit I also notice the lighter skin on his ring finger of his left hand. I finish my drink, and try as politely as possible to tell him that I am calling it a night. He really doesn’t want to accept my refusal of another drink.
“Huntington, it would be my suggestion that you remember to do one of two things. Either, wear a ring on your left hand or take your wedding band off the minute you get out in the sun. My best advice is to think about why you married in the first place and keep it in your pants. Somewhere, I assume there is someone that loves you and would be deeply wounded by your actions tonight.” His mouth dropped open as I stood and walked away.
Returning to my original group, I sit with my back to the dance floor for a bit giving Huntington time to move on. Finally, I announce that I am going to head home. To a round of boos, I stand, do a quick check in Perfect Hair’s direction but to my great disappointment he isn’t there. I go over to pay my tab but find it has been paid. I quiz the bartender as to who has paid it but he just smiles, hands me a card with a smiley face and a phone number written on it. Well, that just ticks me off. On top of the Huntington episode, I am fed up with my night. Signal received loud and clear party gods, I’m going home for sure. I scan the bar once more not finding the face I am looking for. Thanking the bartender, I turn to leave, stopping by the group telling them all goodnight one more time. The more I think about that number the angrier I get. I take the elevator down to street level and hail a taxi the way I have watched Lana do it. OK, I might not have her skills but one stops. The minute I sit down, I jerk out my phone and send a text.
Thx 4 paying tab BUT NO THX!!! WHO DO U THINK U R?
Take that!
Arriving back at my apartment building, I storm into the lobby, only to find our kind night security guard. “Evening, Ms. Jensen. Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine, George thanks for asking. Just a little ticked off.”
“Excuse me for saying so but I can tell. Sure hope I haven’t done anything to upset you.” Looking at this man who has been nothing but helpful to me, I shouldn’t take out my mood on him. “No, just a message I received earlier.”
I feel my phone vibrate as I step into the elevator. Poor George probably thinks I have flipped my lid, as I mumble about leaving a phone number for me, you have got to be kidding. I am still fuming as I unlock my door. I know who that message is from and I just can’t wait to answer it.
You are most welcome. Houston Donovan
Well, Houston Donovan u have some nerve!!!
Meaning?
Meaning!
Meaning leaving your phone number as if I want to thank you for paying my tab. I don’t know who you usually pay bar tabs for and what you get in return for that but you have the wrong person if you think I am … Oh, Oh, Oh YOU ARE JUST TO MUCH!!!
Shouting not necessary. A simple thank you would have worked.
Thank you! Thank you! Oh goodness you have got to be kidding. I turned my phone off and put it on the charger, take that Mr. Houston Donovan. As I stepped into the shower, my thoughts remained on Houston but that long hot shower helped calm me. That night my dreams were filled with dark haired men and shouting texts.
Chapter 5
Damn woman. Shouting at me through a text. However, after that lit
tle exchange, I sure wouldn’t mind hearing her be vocal in person. She seems to be a spitfire. That is just what I need in my life, a little fire. I push away from my desk and lean back in my chair. Standing, I walk into and across the living space, sliding back a panel in what looks like a wall of glass. I remember now why I put off coming down here, damn heat. I close it. I’m edgy tonight.
“Nash.”
In response to my text, Nash walked into the room just as I rack the balls for a game of pool. Reading my mind, he picks his stick. It’s game on. We play our usual two out of three with Nash winning easily tonight.
“What’s wrong Hugh?”
“Restless, I suppose
“Really? Nothing personal man but the Houston Donovan I know wouldn’t have come home alone tonight which I’m assuming you did since we have shot two games of pool.”
“Come home alone? Me? No, I didn’t but she’s gone. I sent her home not long after we got here. She was a red head, a fake one at that, not my thing.” My remark stops Nash in his tracks. He looks at me with his left eyebrow raised, head cocked just a little to the right in what I’ve learned to interpret as his what the hell look. Without commenting, he continued on to the fridge, grabbing two beers, opening both on his way back to the table. “Nice to know you feel at home here,” I say to Nash as he leans against the table.
“Hugh, give it up man! We’ve known each other for what twelve, thirteen years?”
“About that.”
“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you send a woman away.”
Taking a long drink from my bottle, I finally break the silence, “I’ve got a number I want verified. It’s on my desk.”
“Tonight or in the morning?”
“Morning’s fine but by eight”
“No problem”
“Oh and Nash, I need you to do it.” We stood there leaned against the table just looking out into the Miami night.
Breaking our silence, “By the way, what was in that yellow bag?”
Shaking his head, “Not much. Typical woman stuff, along with what looks like a hard copy of a pretty good presentation for The Blaine Company.
Walking over to the window, I continued to stare into the vast nothingness. The Blaine Company. Hum. I might need to do something about that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joan enters my office with some items for me along with a small package. Looking up, as I say “Thanks Joan. Just sit it down, I ‘ll get to it in a minute.”
“Ok, by the looks of your desk, I think I’ll just sit this stuff in this chair.” Jokingly she adds, “If you ever want to see it.”
Smiling, I wave my hand “out, out. Looking at my desk, she is right, it is a mess but developing a project for the philanthropist, J. Elliot Miltman requires a no holds barred presentation. If this gathering is as successful as we hope then his executive retreat might be our next step. That would mean Supreme Corporate Travel would have an excellent advantage over other companies for later excursions. J. Elliot will receive proposals for his elaborate gathering of friends/company executives from across the globe beginning in early August. Each year’s retreat is held at a different worldwide venue. Since, next year’s gathering will be hosted at his estate on the Keys in late spring our concept centers on the wealth and decadence of the 1920s. With a wrap of the weekend being a costume party based upon movies from the era when men were men as the saying goes. I feel really good about this proposal. I should, I’ve spent untold hours on it.
Deciding to take a break, I open the mail Joan dropped off in my chair. Picking up the package I examine it. No return address. I’ll have to remember to ask her about the delivery. As I open the envelope, I discover the contents. Taking it out, I begin to tremble. As I lay it back inside, I begin yelling, “You have got to be kidding! He has some nerve!”
Both Lana and Joan burst into my office. Lana looks at me and asks, “Is everything alright?”
Almost yelling, “No everything is not all right!” Look inside. I jerk up my phone as Lana cautiously approaches. Joan is taking all this in with a look of confusion. She has never heard neither, Lana or I yell, much less at each other. My dear friend Lana, carefully reaches into it, I can tell she is almost afraid of what she will lift out. When she raises her hand, she laughs. “OMG, it’s just a very large chocolate bar”. I snarl at her, “Look in it again”. This time Joan comes over, picks up the package, pulls out a small card with two things handwritten on it, a phone number along with a smiley face. “What in the world?” Turning it over, looking at the back and rubbing the texture of it. “Charli, do you know this number?”
I don’t respond as I jerk up my cell phone, and type U Must be joking? hit send.
“Yes, I know that number.”
I recognized Lana’s crossed arms stance, she isn’t going anywhere until I explain. With confused looks on their faces, they listen to how this whole thing started. I omitted that we had been exchanging texts two or three times a day since.
“Charli, that was two weeks ago when we were at Billy’s.” As Lana comments Joan chirps in with, “This isn’t the first envelope she has received, right Charli? I am pretty sure she has gotten the same package every other day this week.”
“Well, he might be interested but believe me I am not! Who leaves their phone number like he did unless they’re wanting one thing and only one thing- sex? I’ll tell you who, a man that is so egotistical that he thinks women will drop at his feet. Namely one Houston Donovan. Now, I don’t have any idea what your desk looks like but you can see mine and that should tell you, I have work to do.” Both, Lana and Joan look at me as if I am crazy, turn and walk out the door. Joan said, “I wonder who that might be?” as my phone buzzes, with an emoticon of a smiling face. My response is a frowning face. I put my phone in my bag. I don’t want to deal with him. I have work to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Needing a brief break, I walk out into our outer office just as a package arrives. I sign for it, look at the name and realize it’s for me. The return address on this wrinkled envelope I am holding is causing me to hesitate opening it. I have a decent idea what will be in it though. I am being dishonest with myself. I have no idea what is in the package, but I am pretty sure it will have a phone number and a stupid smiley face. Returning to my office, I sit down behind my cluttered desk and lean back in my chair. I turn the manila envelope in my hands examining it thoroughly. What am I doing? I don’t back away from things. Using my letter opener to attack the packing tape it’s sealed with, I finally reach the contents. With some trepidation, I reach in and pull out a small, lightweight book. No, it’s not a book but more of a journal. Not a journal because it has a title. Listen to me rattling on. The title just sets me off.
Communication Techniques
A Manual for the Socially Weary Female
He has some nerve! I am yelling as both Lana and Joan enter. Lana looks at me and asks, “Is everything alright?” Throwing my hands in the air I respond, “I wish everyone would stop asking that. Do I sound alright? No everything is not all right! “Look at this thing!” As I stick the journal/book out at them. Being brave, Joan reaches out and removes the reprehensible thing from me.
“It is beautiful. Charli, look at this cover.”
“You may think it is beautiful Joan but I think it is horrible. From a man that is just as irritating. Get that thing out of my sight!”
As straight faced as she could possibly be, Joan handed the thing to Lana. Lana looked at it, turned it over and examined the back of it. If Lana knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t do what that mischievous grin was preparing me for. She opened her mouth and not a word came out. What did come out was a howl of laughter that broke my barrier down.
The next thing I knew we were all laughing so hard that if someone had entered the outer office they would have mistaken us for escapees from the happy farm. Wiping the tears away from our faces, I looked at them and suggested we all get back to work. My p
hone pinged. I ignored it. It pinged again. I ignored it again. My phone rang, guess what I did? I ignored it. I didn’t want to be disturbed so it went to voice mail. I muted it and went back to work. I was putting together the presentation for the Miltman Affair weekend and needed to remain focused.
As I stuff my laptop into my bag, I look over my desk to make sure I have everything. I look at the book. Jerking it up, I stuff it into my bag, shaking my head in wonderment as to why I am bothering to take it home with me. Knowing those two busy bodies that skulk around the office, I will never hear the end of it. Hopefully, out of sight-out of mind. Who am I kidding? I love those two even if they really do irritate me beyond no end.
Chapter 6
Escaping the workday out the back door, I walk over to my good old Ford. Well, It’s actually only a couple of years old. Somehow it just sounds right to say that. I suppose that is the Midwest girl that I thought was buried deep down within breaking out. Just about the time I open my car door, the back door to our building closed.
“Hey.”
Squeezing my eyes tight I’m willing myself to remain calm.
“Wait a sec. I have a quick question.”
Putting my yellow bag in the back seat, I stand there for just about a minute, before I turn around. “What is it Lana?”
“Did you get your reading material for tonight?”
“What? What reading material? I’m not taking any work home with me, tonight. My plans are actually vegging out in front of the TV.”
“You know, your new reading material to help with your communication techniques,” she laughingly replies.
Sharing my death ray glare with my dear friend, “I tell you what, Missy, when I finish it, how about I loan it to you? We can compare our notes on what revelations we garnered from it.”
