Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
CALLIOPE
Nervous much? Let’s just say I’m past being nervous.
Helping Jerry made me realize two things: I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone and I honestly believe you are never too old to try your hand at love.
I’ve been talking to Glen every day, sometimes two or three times a day.
Now he wants to Skype. He wants to try tonight at eight.
My mind is telling me it’s the next logical step, however, my stomach is telling me a whole different story.
Fear: it can be crippling at times. I bet if I ask Jerry about fear, he will come up with a Frank Reagan quote.
Except that would mean I have to tell him what I’m going through, hence, what I’ve been through.
It took years before I was ready to share it Gramercy.
My cuckoo clock starts chirping, and I start the countdown.
I know when the little people come out spinning around to the music, time is up.
I slam my laptop shut, race into the kitchen and grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer.
I scrape at the hard block of ice cream, digging out as much as I can.
It’s cold and sweet, and that first taste is amazing.
After that, all I can think about is my hips spreading with every loving spoonful.
Ugh, why do I do this to myself? I look down at the ice cream and it’s half gone.
Finding the strength to stop and put it back in the freezer takes a lot of willpower.
When I glance at the clock, only fifteen minutes have passed.
Surely, he is gone by now. As I reach for my laptop with shaking hands, I open it up and Skype comes to life.
Boom, there he is. “Please, let me be brave,” I whisper as I accept the invitation to talk.
“Hi Glen, I got tied up.” The lie is easier than the truth.
“Did you get tied up with some chocolate ice cream?” His laugh isn’t cruel by no means, yet my stomach is in knots.
“How did you know?”
“You have chocolate on the side of your mouth.” I quickly dip my paper napkin in my water glass to clean my face, which is now the color of a tomato.
“Don’t worry, Calliope, it’s cute. I thought you chickened out. Although, I don’t know if I should be worried that ice cream beat me out of the call.” He smiles as if he enjoys the thought of my chocolate ice cream winning the game of tug a war.
“Glen, I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time, so I’m nervous.”
“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
“So, why did you reach out to me?”
“Well, the dating site said we had a lot in common. When I read your profile, it made me laugh. Why did you answer me?”
“You look like someone who reads the back of wine bottles. I don’t know why that popped into my head.” I really wish I had a brain-to-mouth filter. He throws his head back and laughs.
“Well, I’m going to take that as a compliment. You said in your profile that you’re an indie author. I tried to look you up, but I couldn’t find anything. What’s your pen name?”
“You seem to know a lot about how all this works, why?” I ask quickly.
“I have a vested interest in some different businesses, and one of them is a vanity publishing company.”
“So, are you going to throw me a sales pitch as to why I should sign with you?” I feel my neck start to flush. It only does that when I’m sexually excited or pissed off. We all know which one it is.
“Do you have an aversion to vanity publishing?”
“Actually, yes. I would still have to do all the work and then you get part of the profits. I never could understand how it benefits the writer.”
“You would get an advance to help with your expenses,” he offers.
“Yeah, see I don’t need that. What else do you have your hands in?” I need to move this conversation off of writing.
“Why don’t we get together for coffee on Friday and talk about it?
” I want to tell him to bring his portfolio, so I can see exactly what he is invested in, but that would be rude.
I take a few calming breaths, but then I freeze.
“Calliope, it’s just coffee. We can meet in a very public place during the day.
I promise I’m not a serial killer. I can supply references from my dog, Charlie, if that will make you feel better.
” I laugh and mentally remind myself to use that line in one of my books.
“Okay, there is a little place called Casa Toscana in Bryant Park. It’s near the fountain in the northwest corner of the park. I can meet you at ten, if that works for you?”
“Yes, I can do that. You have piqued my curiosity, Calliope. You are very skittish but I’m not going to let you run away. I will see you Friday.” Before he leaves, I take a quick screenshot. I can’t believe what I just did. I run into the kitchen and pull out the wine before calling Gramercy.
“I made a date with Glen. I don’t know why I said yes. I Skyped with him. I ate chocolate ice cream, and now I’m having wine,” I ramble on before she barely gets her “Hello” greeting out of her mouth.
“Hello to you too, Calliope. Maybe I should come over.”
“Maybe you should pick up more wine on the way here.” She hangs up without another word.
I sit here and replay my conversation with Glen over and over again.
The buzzer nearly makes me jump out of my skin.
I live in a third-floor walk-up. Gramercy races up the steps with wine in one hand a box from our favorite pastry shop.
“When the hell did you find the time to stop at Heritage bakery?” I ask while secretly thanking the pastry gods.
“After I went to Zabar’s for Jerry. I figured we deserved a treat after all this dating stuff.
From the sound of your voice when you called, I figured you needed it.
” She passes me the box as we head into the kitchen.
She slips the bottle of white into the fridge, grabs a glass and pours some from the open bottle while I put the pastries on a plate.
“These look amazing,” I say as my glands are already salivating. We head into the living room where Glen’s screenshot is still on the screen of my laptop. Gramercy stops and stares at it.
“That’s him—Glen,” I say very apprehensive.
“There is something familiar about him. It’s probably just me.” She shakes it off. “Tell me what he said?” I quickly fill her in, which there isn’t much to tell.
“Look, you wouldn’t have taken it this far if you weren’t interested. You’re not marrying him, Calliope; it’s just coffee. What else did you find out about him?”
“He’s divorced and, if he was telling the truth, he has a dog named Charlie.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He said he has different investments. One of them is in a Vanity Publishing House.” I cringe as the words come tumbling out.
“So, did he hit you with a sales pitch, yet?”
“No, but he did say he tried looking me up. Before you ask; I didn’t tell him my pen name.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I’m not ready to share that part of my life with him right now.”
“Do you think he could be the scammer?”
“No, I don’t think so. He seems too nice for that.”
“Do you hear yourself?!” She throws out her hands as if she is in disbelief.
“What should I do?” I ask, white flag in the air. She drains the rest of the wine in her glass, turns toward me and grips my hand.
“I have a plan. Let’s refill your glasses, and I will fill you in.” With shaking hands, I refill my glass and settle in for what I’m sure is going to be some wild plan.