18. Jeanie
CHAPTER 18
Jeanie
The man across from her is balding, Jeanie realizes with a sinking feeling in her heart. Not that she holds any ill will towards bald men--she doesn't! It's just that he's taken it upon himself to comb what hairs he does have across his shining pate, and he's been talking for what feels like ages about the money he's invested in a steel company, and that he hopes will pay off and allow him to buy a house on a golf course in the next ten years.
Jeanie smiles and nods as she sips her frozen margarita, willing herself not to wince at the brain freeze that attacks her skull.
"So, tell me where you see yourself in a decade, Jean," the man says, picking up his margarita, which he'd ordered on the rocks, extra salt.
Jeanie wants to correct him: she hates being called Jean, but she already knows she won't be seeing him again after tonight. And without the pressure of trying to impress a man, her mentality changes course entirely and she decides to just have some fun. She grins at him.
"Well, Harvey," she says, tapping her fingertips against the red-and-white checkered tablecloth at the seafood restaurant he's taken her to. "In ten years, I'd like to have launched my career as a fashion model."
Harvey's forehead creases. "Well, you're certainly pretty enough," he says, letting his eyes drift down to her barely-visible cleavage. "But I thought you were an engineer?"
"Oh, I am," Jeanie says. "But only because I wanted to see if I could do it." She takes another sip of her margarita. "I was on my way to New York City to meet a photographer and start modeling, but I got lost and ended up on a college campus instead. I signed up, and voila , here I am."
Harvey looks confused. "I thought your aunt said you were a brilliant engineer who was securing her financial future?"
Harvey hasn't been able to grasp that Vicki is not her aunt, but rather her aunt's best friend who he met in a bar, so Jeanie ignores this. "Well, I am brilliant," she agrees, nodding eagerly. "But I want to cash in on my looks--while I still have them."
"Huh." Harvey puzzles over this, until he finally realizes he's being duped. "Wait a second, you're pulling my leg, aren't you?" He laughs and wags a finger at her.
Jeanie, who is licking salt from the rim of her glass, gives him a little smile. "Yeah, I was," she admits. "Although I have always thought that modeling sounded incredibly glamorous. And I bet you get to keep the clothes. And maybe the makeup."
Harvey seems to appraise her with fresh eyes as the waiter stops by with a bowl of clam chowder for Harvey and one of lobster bisque for Jeanie.
"So then, you are actually planning on sticking it out at NASA and helping men land on the moon?"
Jeanie picks up a spoon and spreads the white napkin on her lap. "Definitely." She takes her first bite of the hot soup. "And then after the men take their turn, I'll be going to the moon myself."
Harvey watches her, and she can tell that he's utterly bewildered by her quirky responses. He also appears to take issue with her last proclamation.
"So, wait--you think women will go to the moon at some point?" His tone implies scoffing, and Jeanie can see it on his face. "You think that's even a possibility?"
"You don't?"
Harvey appears to be loath to even explain the finer points of why this isn't possible, but he sets down his drink and leans both elbows on the table, looking as though he's prepared to explain something very simply to a dim-witted child.
"No, I don't. Women aren't physically fit for space, nor are we going to allow that to happen."
Blood is rushing in Jeanie's ears. She has no clue how Harvey thinks he knows anything about a woman's fitness to travel to space, but beyond that, she'd really love to hear how men will stop them from going.
"You won’t allow us to go?" Jeanie nearly chokes on her own words. "Why not?"
Harvey is ready to put the nail in the coffin of this discussion, and he leans back in his chair as he does so. "Because," he says expansively, as if this will end the debate. "Who would keep the men in check? And who would watch the children?"
Jeanie cannot believe that Vicki would set her up with a dullard like Harvey Miller. Sure, she's pushing thirty and single, and sure, Vicki knows that she's trying to get out more and to forget all about Bill Booker, but in no way should she give off a vibe of desperation that's strong enough to reel in a non-catch like this guy. She pushes her lobster bisque aside and stands up just as the waiter approaches with their grilled grouper.
"I don't think I'm hungry anymore," Jeanie says with a tight smile. She drops her napkin on the table. "Thank you for inviting me out, but this isn't going anywhere."
Harvey's mouth is hanging open, and Jeanie can see the gold fillings in his back molars. She hasn't gotten close enough to him to experience it firsthand, but she'd be more than willing to bet that Mr. Miller here has coffee breath and a darting, probing tongue--not that she would ever let this dolt kiss her goodnight.
Without waiting for their main courses to be delivered, Jeanie grabs her purse and walks out of the restaurant, letting the heat of the mid-July evening hit her in the face. She lifts her chin high as she walks to her car, hair streaming out behind her.
She might not be the right woman at the right time for a guy like Bill, but she is most certainly not going to lower her standards in order to be the right woman at any time for a man like Harvey Miller.
Jeanie drives home with the windows down, drumming her thumbs against the steering wheel as her favorite song of the summer so far, "Summer in the City" by The Lovin' Spoonful, plays at top volume from her car radio.