Desperate Measures

by Elle Casey

  Kiki looked at her like she was crazy. “Oh no! Run! Hide in the closet!”

  Aimee instantly relaxed. Kiki did have a point. “Okay, fine. I’m a big girl, I can do this. It’s not like it’s my first date or anything.”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Just my first one in twelve years.”

  “It’s like riding a bike,” Kiki said as they went down the stairs together.

  Aimee froze before she got to the bottom, grabbing Kiki’s arm in a panic. “What if it’s Jack?!”

  “It can’t be. We have security, remember?”

  “Well, how did Joe get in, then?”

  Kiki peeled Aimee’s hand off her arm. “I called the guard and told him to let Joe in. Now relax.”

  “Oh. Okay,” said Aimee, patting her chest a few times to calm its crazy rhythm. “Of course you did. That makes complete sense.”

  They stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. Aimee looked at Kiki, who just stared back at her. “Well?” Kiki asked.

  “Should I answer it?”

  Kiki rolled her eyes. “Only if you want to go out with him tonight.” She left Aimee standing there and went into the kitchen.

  A very small piece of Aimee wanted to run up the stairs and lock herself in her bedroom. But instead, she took a deep breath and went to the door, unlocking it and opening it up before she could chicken out.

  Joe was standing on the front step, looking handsomer than she thought it was possible for a guy to be. She felt herself go weak in the knees. Now she knew exactly what her romance novels were talking about when they said that. She’d always thought it was silly before.

  He was wearing khaki pants and an expensive-looking dress shirt, open at the neck. She could see his hairy chest beneath and tried very hard not to picture what the rest of it might look like. And that chest … it was so broad it made her feel absolutely tiny. She loved that about him instantly. His waist was trim but not small. No one could ever describe Joe as small. His legs were thick too, and muscled - she could tell from the way his pants fit. Good lord almighty, what have I gotten myself into? She broke out in a sweat, wishing she had worked out an extra hour. Or three. I should have douched.

  “Hi, Aimee. Ready to go?”

  “Hi, Joe.” She smiled shyly. “Yes.” She stepped out and began to close the door behind her.

  “Wait a second,” he said, pulling a pink rose out from behind his back. “You may want to go put this in water first.”

  A smile bloomed across her face. “Oh, it’s so pretty! And thoughtful! No one’s bought me a flower in … years,” she said, losing a little of the happy glow that had appeared, remembering why no one had bought her flowers in ages. Jack. Talk about a wet blanket. “Come in, while I get a vase.”

  She opened the door back up, putting her clutch purse on the front table and leaving him in the foyer, before going into the kitchen. She caught Kiki standing in front of the sink, her mouth full of cookie.

  “Caught ya!” she said, pointing at Kiki’s mouth. “I need a vase. Where are they?”

  “Oh vats fo fweet. Eee boough oo a fwowah.” Kiki pointed to a cabinet above Aimee’s head.

  “Yes. He did.” She grabbed Kiki’s arm and leaned in, squealing as quietly as she could, “And he looks ah-may-zing!”

  The sound of a man clearing his throat in the kitchen doorway made Aimee’s blood run cold.

  Kiki was looking over Aimee’s shoulder, her eyes showing her surprise and then mirth.

  “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” Aimee whispered.

  “Mmmm hmmm,” said Kiki, struggling to swallow her food. “Hey, Joe. Want a cookie?” she asked, grabbing the nearby plate and leaving Aimee to walk over to him with it held out in front of her.

  “Oh, no thanks. Nice seeing you again. Kiki, right?”

  “Yes. And I can’t take no for an answer. Our lovely and talented Aimee made these. You must try them.”

  Aimee was glad for the distraction so she could look into the cabinet Kiki had pointed out and get down a vase. She kept herself busy with unwrapping the rose and getting it in water, hoping to avoid facing the guy she had just called gorgeous within hearing range, for as long as possible. So much for playing it cool. She sighed as she turned on the water and filled the small blue bud vase. Like Kiki said - I might as well just be myself. If he doesn’t like the fact that I’m a flaming dork, he can just move on. She turned and watched him roll his eyes in pleasure at the taste of her cookies, and sent a quick prayer out to the universe that he would like dorks.

  “Ready to go?” she asked, trying to act like she wasn’t so nervous she wanted to barf.

  “Well,” he said, chewing slowly, “I thought I was a minute ago. But now I’m not so sure.” He reached over and picked up another cookie, taking a bite out of it and smiling. “I’m kinda busy with these cookies.”

  Aimee smiled. “Those are Kiki’s favorite.”

  “I can see why,” he said. “I’ve eaten a lot of cookies in my day. In fact,” he said, leaning a hip on the counter, “I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur. And these could very possibly be the best I’ve ever had. Even better than my mom’s.” He nodded his head as he continued to savor the flavors, raising an eyebrow at Kiki in a silent exchange of mutual cookie adoration.

  Kiki’s eyes widened. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man admit that about someone else’s cooking.”

  “Yeah, well, if you ever tell my mom I said it, I’ll deny it.” He winked at Kiki, and the vision of it made Aimee go all funny inside. Oh my god, he is the cutest, hottest guy I have ever, ever seen. What is he doing with me? He’s going to figure out I’m a goofy housewife and leave me in the dust. She tried to smile, but felt her happiness sliding away.

  Joe looked over and stood up, reaching out to take her hand as he popped the last bit of cookie in his mouth. “Come on. We have reservations.” He grabbed another cookie off the plate, explaining, “One for the road. Thanks for sharing, Kiki.”

  “Oh, any time,” she said, taking another for herself. “You two have fun!”

  Aimee followed Joe out of the townhouse blindly, battling with herself the entire time. Should I just try to have fun anyway, knowing this is doomed? Should I try to make conversation, or wait for him to do it? What does a cop like to talk about?

  She heard him clear his throat and realized she was standing like a statue outside the car door he’d been holding open for her. “Oh. Sorry,” she said, snapping to attention and getting in, trying to keep her dress from riding up too high. It was loose at the bottom and fitted at the waist with a low neckline. When she’d put it on earlier it had seemed perfect. Now she was worried it wasn’t right for the occasion. She fretted that her makeup was too much. Or not enough. She wondered if she should have just worn the lip gloss instead of the tinted stuff. Is he thinking about blow jobs right now? Or just wondering when he can gracefully get out of the date?

  Joe got in on his side and put his key in the ignition, but he didn’t turn the car on. Instead he turned a little in his seat to look at her. “Are you okay, Aimee?”

  Aimee could feel her game-face disintegrating. He doesn’t want to go out with me. I’m a freak. She turned her head quickly, looking out the side window so he wouldn’t see her tearing up. I’m going to be single forever. No wonder Jack was embarrassed by me.

  She felt him take her hand. “Listen. I know you’ve had a hard time recently. And if this is too stressful for you, this date thing, we can go do something else. No pressure.” He rubbed the back of her hand gently with his thumb. “We can do anything at all. We can take a walk downtown, we could just drive around for a while, we could … I don’t know … go to the batting cages.”

  She smiled through her tears. He was trying so hard - that had to mean something. She turned to look at him. “Batting cages?”

  He gave her a guilty grin. “Yeah, well, that’s me just trying to impress you. I figured maybe if I could hit a few home ru
ns and look really manly, you’d give me a chance.” He reached up to touch her face, wiping away a small tear that slipped from the outside corner of her eye. “Don’t be sad. I promise I won’t hurt you. At least not intentionally, and not carelessly. I’m a nice guy. You can call my mom right now and ask her if you don’t believe me.”

  Aimee laughed. “That will never happen.”

  “Well, I’m just sayin’. If it would make you feel better, you could do it.”

  “I appreciate the thought. It’s not that I don’t trust you to be a gentleman … ” She looked down at her lap, not even really sure what she was thinking other than the fact that she was at an all-time low in the self-confidence department.

  “Okay, so what is it? I can tell you’re upset or nervous or something. I just want to put your mind at ease so we can enjoy ourselves tonight.”

  Aimee sighed heavily. Might as well get it out of the way. “Well, the truth is, I am nervous. Like really nervous. I haven’t been out on a date in twelve years. Maybe longer. My divorce isn’t final yet, and the last few years that I was married, I didn’t get out much. I haven’t kissed anyone but Jack in more than a decade.” She cringed at how pitiful that sounded.

  Joe took her hand and squeezed it. “Well, then. It’s time you did go out, don’t you think? A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be shut up in a house all day and night.” He bounced her hand up and down a few times to get her attention.

  She looked into his eyes and saw only sincerity.

  “Let me take you out and show you a good time. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

  “You sure about that?” she said, smiling tremulously, trying not to hate herself for it.

  “Absolutely,” he said, squeezing her hand one more time before letting it go and starting the car. “First stop, a surprise. And then out to dinner. After, you can choose what we do - a movie or whatever you want.”

  “Okay. I can handle that.” I think. She was hoping it was the truth; it felt like it was. Now she just needed her badly bruised and battered ego to go along with the plan.

  “What’s the surprise?” she asked.

  “Now if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, would it?” He smiled, as he looked out the windshield, negotiating the small streets that led out of the neighborhood and into the city.

  Aimee stared at him in profile, taking in the view of his strong jaw and full lips. She wondered how a guy this gorgeous and who seemed this nice could possibly be single at their age. He probably had a checkered past. Maybe he has an ex-wife. Or two. Or three!

  “What is your little mind concocting over there?” he asked, good naturedly.

  “Nothing. Much.”

  “I’m serious, you can call my mother. Here … I’ll dial it for you.” He picked up his phone and started pressing buttons.

  Aimee grabbed it away from him. “Joe! No! Don’t call your mother! Are you crazy?” She looked down at it, trying to figure out how to shut it off. Then she heard a voice coming from it … an older lady’s voice.

  “Hello? Joe? Is that you?”

  A huge grin split his face. “Hi, Ma!” he said loudly.

  Aimee was frantically pressing buttons, whispering, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually called your mother. How do I shut this thing off?”

  The voice came out over the speakerphone next. “Why are you pressing all those …,” BEEP! BEEP! “… buttons? Stop that, you’re giving me a headache.”

  Aimee’s fingers froze, the phone hanging in her hand, held out at arm’s length in between her and Joe.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, Mom … I need you to do me a favor and vouch for me.”

  “For what? Are you in trouble again? I told Mrs. Malkovitch twenty-five years ago, and every year since then - it wasn’t you who colored her poodle’s hair pink with Kool-aid. She’s not going to let it go, Joe, no matter how many times I vouch for you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Yeah, I know. It was Lolo Pancetti. That’s not what I’m talking about. I have a girl here with me, and she’s a little nervous about going out on a date with me, so I thought maybe you could tell her I’m a good guy.”

  “Lolo? I should’ve known. That kid was always doing stuff like that and blaming you. Wait a minute … you’ve got a girl with you right now?” Her voice perked up. “Who is she? Put her on.”

  Aimee’s eyes felt like they were going to fall out of her head, they were bugging so bad. She shook her head as fast as she could, whispering, “No, no, no, no …,” but Joe wasn’t listening.

  “She’s on right now. You’re on speaker. Her name’s Aimee.”

  “Aimee? Hello, hon. This is Estelle. I’m Joseph’s mother. I can vouch for him. He’s a nice boy. I raised him to be a gentleman. If he doesn’t hold your doors open for you, you call me back, okay, sweetie? … Can she hear me? Can you hear me, Aimee? Hello?!”

  Aimee couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Mrs. … Joe’s mom.” Joe’s last name had escaped her, making her feel like a complete nincompoop in front of his mother, of all people. “Joe opened my doors for me already. He seems … nice.” She mouthed the words, ‘I’m going to kill you’ at Joe who just shrugged, as if it wasn’t his fault. Aimee could see a devilish grin just below the surface of his calm demeanor. She was willing to bet it wasn’t Lolo whatever-his-name-is who had turned that poodle pink.

  “One thing about my Joey, though, you gotta watch for this, is that he is very picky about his work. Everything is just so, with Joseph … always has been. He won’t cut corners, and he doesn’t let anyone get away with any shenanigans. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing, but don’t ask him to fix any speeding tickets for you, because he just won’t do it. Not even for his own mother.”

  “Mom, I told you before. I can’t fix tickets for the ladies in your bridge club. For you, maybe. But not all of them.”

  “I didn’t ask for you to fix all of them. Just a couple. For my partners.”

  “Mom, can we talk about this later?” He grabbed the phone, his thumb hovering over the Off button.

  Aimee grabbed his arm, saying, “Wait,” in a low voice. Then she spoke up. “Thanks for vouching for Joe. I feel better now.”

  “It was my pleasure, sweetie. Do me a favor, if you can. Talk some sense into him about the speeding tickets, would you please?”

  “I’ll try,” said Aimee, trying not to laugh.

  “Bye, Mom,” said Joe, not waiting for her answer, pressing the button to end the call.

  “There,” he said, looking smug. “Are you happy? I’ll have you know that my mom does not lie. She considers it a sin.”

  “But she believes in fixing tickets for her bridge partners.”

  “Of course. That’s different. Those tickets are what she calls a travesty of justice.”

  “I’m sure,” said Aimee, feeling much better about her choice to go out with him tonight. Crazy as it sounded, his mother vouching for him gave her a sense of security that at least she wasn't going out with a serial killer. Or another Jack. Jack hardly talked to his mother, and even if he did, Aimee doubted the woman would vouch for him. She was a pretty harsh person.

  Aimee let her thoughts wander as Joe drove on, which did wonders for her nervous stomach. By the time they pulled up to a gravel parking lot, Aimee was almost feeling like herself again.

  Joe shut off the car and got out, coming around to open her door and help her with a strong, steady hand. She tried to drop it once she was standing, but he held onto it gently. She smiled at him tentatively before looking around. “Where are we?”

  “Just a place I like to hang out sometimes.”

  “It looks like an art studio.”

  “It is. They give lessons here in all kinds of media - clay, paint, photography. You name it, they probably have classes for it.”

  “Are we going to take an art lesson tonight?” she asked, confused.

  He laughed. “Maybe another time. No, tonight I’m going to
show you something that always helps me relax. I thought you’d be interested in seeing it.”

  He led her in between some buildings and into an attached garden. They walked along the gravel path that had flowering bushes on either side at varying heights, and stone benches spaced every so often, inviting people to stop and rest. Aimee noticed sculptures and statutes made of plastic, metal, clay, and stone, interspersed between plantings. One looked like a giant ostrich, made with recycled soda and water bottles of all shapes, colors and sizes.

  “What is this place?” she asked in wonder. It was beautiful. Not only was the art and the landscaping nice, there were two huge trees with limbs that spread out forever, Spanish moss tangled amongst the branches and hanging down to trail almost to the ground. It gave the place a very mystical feel.

  “I call it a contemplative garden. I’m not sure what it’s officially called. I come here to think.”

  “I can see why. It’s very peaceful.”

  “Yeah. Even when there are people around, it’s quiet. I can escape the rat race here whenever I need to. It’s never closed.”

  They sat down on a bench that was on the edge of a pond. Some artist had put a giant Loch Ness Monster sculpture in the center of it. “That is so cool,” said Aimee, happily. It was fun looking at art that had a sense of humor and adventure mixed with a little bit of legend to it.

  “That’s my favorite piece out here.”

  “Is any of your work in the garden?”

  “Nah. My stuff isn’t this good. I just do it for fun. I started in second grade, and it hasn’t improved much in quality since then.”

  Aimee laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “No, unfortunately, I’m not. Even my own mother told me to give it up and find another hobby.”

  “No, she didn’t!” said Aimee in mock outrage.

  “She might have had the ulterior motive of wanting to recruit me for her bridge club, which I will join no earlier than at the age of eighty-five, but still. I’ve had enough people look at my work with pity in their eyes to know it will never leave the safety of my house to be on display anywhere. But I’m okay with that.”