Arlo #4
“Good,” she said, looking at me and flashing another smile. “I hope you enjoy your night, Arlo. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to speak later, but you must excuse us. I see a certain senator who has been in sore need of conversation.”
“Of course,” I said, stepping out of her way as she walked past us, her husband close behind. He gave me a wince as he went, but he never once let go of the drink in his hand. “Mmm, that was as tense as you described.”
“That? That was practically loving,” Ward said with a chuckle. “I have to ask, you do drink, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, fighting the urge to roll my eyes and chuckling instead. “I am known to get drunk on occasion. But I’d prefer to have something more substantial in my stomach if I’m going to have more than one drink tonight.”
“That can be arranged,” he said with a snort, taking my arm again. “Let’s see...you don’t strike me as a martini or cocktail person...straight neat or on the rocks?”
“Depends on the liquor,” I said.
“Any you don’t like?”
“Tequila.”
“One of those people, huh?”
“No, I just don’t like the taste.”
“Fair enough,” he said, smiling and gesturing to a passing server. “A dirty martini, if you would, pickle and spicy, please, make it filthy. And a bourbon, finger and a half, on the rocks. Thank you.”
The server zipped off, and we continued walking. I glanced at him. “Confidence.”
“What’s that?” he asked when we finally reached a table near the front. He pulled out a chair for me.
“You ordered that drink with the confidence that they would get it for you and know who you were to find you amidst all these people,” I said as I sat down. “And you did it with authority without being aggressive or demanding.”
“My mother might win with steel and fire, but I prefer a bit of honey before I draw my weapon,” he said as he sat beside me.
I watched him as he ruffled his jacket and adjusted his shirt, and I turned before he could see the amusement on my face.
It was hard to tell if he didn’t understand what I was trying to say or if he simply chose to ignore it.
Even the most confident, self-assured, self-aware person could miss things about themselves, especially positive things.
Obviously, his mother wanted something from him that he wasn’t willing to give, or perhaps couldn’t.
I didn’t know what it was, but if he refused to see what I was saying, perhaps it was tied to that.
He had a good sense for people, knew how to make them comfortable, and was more than capable of getting them to do something for him, while keeping them in line and happy.
Leadership skills like that weren’t taught; they were developed over time.
Given enough time and willingness, he could get people’s attention in a way his mother never could.
“Thank you,” I murmured to the well-dressed man who set our drinks down, and I took the martini glass. Ward shot me a wry look as I took a sip, lip twitching as I set it back down. “That...tastes like pure pickle juice with a dash of liquor you can barely taste.”
“Oh, good, I’d hate to taste my liquor if it isn’t in a shot glass,” he said as he took his glass back, and I picked up the bourbon. “I never understood people’s love of wanting to taste their liquor. It just tastes like…liquor.”
“Isn’t that the point of a martini? Especially if you have quality liquor?” I asked and took a drink of mine. “Kind of like this...my God, no wonder so many of the rich and famous turn out to be alcoholics.”
A laugh made me stiffen, and an older couple joined us at the table.
It was the woman, dressed in a soft blue dress that made her eyes even bluer, who laughed.
“The eternal boredom of having the world at your fingertips but no desire to risk anything would make the top spot for me, but the good drinks certainly don’t hurt. ”
“My apologies,” I said sheepishly.
“Oh, don’t,” she said as her husband set a drink down beside her, smiling as he sat. “There are far too many things to be sorry over, but the truth is not one of them. I take it this is your first time being around people like us?”
“She means people from a different socio-economic background,” her husband amended.
That was and wasn’t what she’d meant, and I smiled. “To say we’re from different socio-economic backgrounds is like saying that Earth and Mars are simply a few miles from one another.”
“This one understands just fine,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “You can call me Eleanor, and my husband, if you couldn’t tell is in public relations, is Aaron.”
“I’m Arlo,” I said, glancing over at Ward, who shrugged.
“He works for my mother’s office; they know who I am,” he said, raising a glass. “But it is always a delight to talk to you again, Eleanor. I wasn’t aware we were sitting at the same table this evening.”
“Your mother thought Aaron’s influence might tone down whatever urges you might have,” she said with a fond smile. “As if anyone but you could keep you in line.”
“Now if only someone would tell my mother that.”
“Oh, no one is going to tell her anything any more than they are going to tell you.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” he said with distaste.
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t think he liked being compared to his mother.
Or perhaps more accurately, he wasn’t fond of the idea that they were not dissimilar in some ways.
Not all ways, he didn’t have her coldness, and if his assessment of her was right, and I had no reason to believe otherwise, he didn’t feel the need to control people.
“Now, before I do the polite thing, is there...anything I shouldn’t ask you about, Arlo?” Eleanor asked politely.
Ward was not wrong; people really did expect him to invite someone who stuck out like a sore thumb...did she think I was a hooker? “Not that I’m aware of, but if it eases your mind, I can tell you when a question has gone too far.”
“Polite but direct, ah, a rarity in this world,” she said with a titter. “Now, tell me about yourself, Arlo. Where are you from? What do you do?”
“I grew up in Portland until the age of eight. After that, I ended up in the foster care system for a little over a year. I was eventually located here in Cresson Point, where my now mother, Matilda, adopted me. As for work, I’m a funeral director.”
“Well, we certainly don’t hear that very often,” Eleanor said, narrowing her eyes. “Please do tell me, Ward, that you were not so tasteless as to invite this man because he was once a part of the foster system. That would be beneath you.”
“It’s nice to see that someone has some standards for me, low as they are,” Ward said wryly, but I could see fondness coming off him.
Not that that was surprising; she was sharp of mind and tongue, but didn’t seem bothered by what she knew about him.
“And no, that is not why he’s here. He’s here because I want him here. ”
“You’re a handsome one...in a hard-to-describe sort of way,” Eleanor said, looking me over. “Has he seduced you yet?”
“I...suppose that depends on your definition,” I said carefully.
“Elly,” Aaron warned.
“You know what I mean,” she said, giving her husband a look. I had the feeling she was prepared to be far more blunt, but was playing nice for her husband’s sake.
“Seduced? No.”
“Seducing?”
“Yes.”
“I love that you’re honest. The last couple of dates I’ve seen him with attempted to pretend they would play hard to get. As if this one couldn’t charm the last penny off a destitute beggar if he wanted to,” Eleanor said with a wink at Ward.
“Destitute beggar is so close to redundant that it counts,” Ward told her.
“For you perhaps.”
I smiled at her. She reminded me of Matilda in many ways, though perhaps a little more...blunt. “What would be the point in pretending his charms aren’t working? I like to think that for whatever reason, he is equally charmed or near enough.”
“Considering he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you, I’d say you’ve charmed him more than most of the groupies he lets float around him.”
“Thank you, Elly,” Ward said with a sigh.
I glanced at him, amused. “I think she’s trying to make me feel better by insisting the chain is being tugged in both directions.”
He leaned in closer, turning so he could speak softly. “I’m more of a soft rope or scarf man, less chafing...but if you want something a little rougher, you won’t hear me complain, no matter which of us is...pulling the chain.”
“Good to know,” I said with a small smile that felt polite and interested. The fire that had flared to life in my gut in the limo was now sparking again.
“Oh, to be young,” Eleanor said and then turned. “Ah, the food. Excellent.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ward said as the food was wheeled up to the table, each plate covered and set before us before the lids were pulled off. “But I chose the meal for you.”
The dish in front of me appeared to be fish, skin still on it, and heat coming off it as it sat on a bed of vegetables and sauce. “You won’t see me turn my nose up at fish.”
“Chilean Sea Bass,” Eleanor said, revealing she had also ordered it. “I’m telling you, it’s everywhere now. You can’t go to a party without...for a reason, it’s quite good.”
It turned out she was absolutely correct.
Once the skin was peeled away, steam and the fresh smell of the cooked fish rolled out.
I couldn’t make out what was in the sauce, but it was rich with just enough of a lemon bite to make the taste glow rather than drown it.
The herbs and vegetables turned the whole into the most perfectly balanced meal.
Clearly, it wasn’t the drink that made it easy to get a prodigious belly in their world; even I could picture myself putting on a few pounds if I had food like this available at all times.