6HarperPatterns & Colors
Harper
Patterns & Colors
Harper stared at her clothing rack with a frown.
Ash had texted details for their date, including the scheduled pick-up time and his getting dressed time slot, in case she found that helpful, which she did.
She had thoroughly perused Ash’s thoughtfully prepared dossier.
It was way better than the dating profiles she’d been dejectedly sorting through.
Now, she had his stats, preferences, and quirks at her searchable command.
Focused on her clothing options, she answered her phone on autopilot when it rang and instantly regretted it.
“Hey, Mom,” said Harper, bracing for whatever unpredictable but negative thing would come next.
“You could sound more excited to talk to me.”
“Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out what to wear for my date. I was thinking.”
“You have a date?” Yvonne’s voice went up in intonation.
“Mm-hmm.”
“With who? How’d you meet him? What does he do?”
Ash’s self-described work title was Investment Manager, which was probably accurate but seemed vague. She wasn’t sure it would mean anything to her mother.
“I met him in an elevator on the way to a party, and he’s an Investment Manager.” She tried to sound confident. If she couldn’t say it to her mother, she probably wouldn’t be able to say it to Ash’s friends either.
“Oh, nice. A banker like Cooper. OK, well, don’t wear one of your Rainbow Bright outfits. Be tasteful.”
Harper looked longingly at the green dress she loved. Her mom might be right. Ash had seemed to know a lot of bankers. Then she remembered his dossier. He loved all the colors. Harper pulled the green dress off the hanger.
“Where is he taking you?” asked her mother as Harper surveyed her shoe options.
“He is taking me to a work event, and then we’re going to a noodle house called Reckless.”
“What’s a noodle house?” asked her mother, sounding skeptical.
“A place that I couldn’t get into last month,” said Harper, knowing it would matter to Yvonne. What Ash had actually said was to pick something that made her happy. She’d picked noodles, and Reckless was the best noodles he could think of.
“Well, that sounds promising! OK, I won’t keep you, but just remember to be nice and compliment whatever he’s into and show an interest. Men like that.”
“OK,” said Harper, knowing better than to argue.
“Even if it’s crypto,” said her mother. “Don’t do the thing.”
Harper had once tried to point out to one of her stepfather’s friends that crypto bordered on a pyramid scheme and a scam, and they were still complaining about how she had almost ruined the friendship.
“He isn’t a crypto bro,” said Harper. “He does tech investing.”
“Fantastic!”
Having uttered the magic words to ward off her mother’s strictures, Harper was set free to get ready.
Thanks to following Ash’s schedule, she was ready a whole two minutes early.
Usually, she was running around in a panic at this point.
The deviation from her usual pattern was both soothing and frightening.
She perched on the arm of her sofa so she could take her weight off her feet but wouldn’t wrinkle her dress.
She looked around her sparsely furnished apartment.
She might not have been able to take many things with her in the move, but she loved every piece that had come with her.
Seattle felt different, and maybe this was why—it didn’t feel like her usual pattern, but it felt like it was all hers.
Ash texted that parking was unavailable and she ran downstairs while he circled the block and hopped into his black sports car.
“This is a Porsche,” she said once she was buckled.
“Yes?”
“I just remembered,” she admitted.
“Ah! Well done!”
“But I forgot to look at the outside to see what Porsche’s look like.”
“There will not be a pop quiz later,” he said confidently.
“Do you ever have that dream that you’re in high school and there’s a pop quiz and you haven’t studied?”
“And I’m naked? Yes, I do.”
“Me too,” said Harper. “Usually, I have clothes, though.”
“Lucky you. I am told that it is a frequent dream among overachievers and those with imposter syndrome.”
“Oh. I just assumed it had to do with an overwhelming fear of failure and public vulnerability,” said Harper.
“The speed with which this conversation has veered off the rails and into uncomfortable truths is impressive,” said Ash.
“It really is,” agreed Harper.
He pulled up at a stoplight and glanced over at her.
“You said you were fine with weird,” she said nervously.
Ash burst out laughing. “I really am. Let’s not tell anyone else about the naked school dream, though.”
“Good call,” agreed Harper.
Once out of the car, Ash confidently guided her to a hotel event space where her first impression was nineties carpeting and noise.
“Okayyyyyy,” said Ash, looking around the crowded room.
“This is a lot of people,” said Harper. Somehow networking event hadn’t conveyed how many people there would be. She surveyed the bodies in front of her, trying to assess whether or not she’d gauged her outfit correctly. “I shouldn’t have worn green.”
“What?” Ash looked down at her in confusion and then seemed to check her dress.
“You look professionally hot. Hot professionally. No. Those adjectives cannot go together without making enemies. You look professional and also extremely attractive.” He beamed as he found the correct combination of English words.
“They are all wearing khaki, black, and grey,” said Harper when he finally stopped talking.
“That is because they are white people,” said Ash. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the colors of our people are pumpkin spice and taupe.”
Harper couldn’t help laughing. “I believe that is also pejorative.”
“Pejorative or accurate? People who work in finance are mostly white, and majority boring.”
Harper giggled. “I think that’s correlation, not causation.”
“Maybe,” said Ash, sounding unconvinced. “But the point is that you look great and stand out in a good way.”
“That is a really nice thing to say. Thank you.”
“Well, you are my girlfriend,” said Ash, taking her hand. “If you don’t get at least one compliment per day, I’m probably not doing it right.”
Harper immediately tried to calculate what Cooper’s compliment rate was. One per week? Maybe. Ash’s standards for fake dating were higher than hers for a real boyfriend. She probably ought to reevaluate her boyfriend criteria.
The party wasn’t as awkward as she had feared it would be. Ash kept them moving so she didn’t have time to get nervous before he took them to a whole new group. It also helped that everyone seemed happy to see Ash. She could see why—he was outgoing and had a way of making people feel included.
“This is working great,” he said when they paused. “I never remember anyone’s name, and having you here makes them introduce themselves all over again.”
“What happens if I meet them again and I can’t remember their name.”
“Just say you think Ash told you the wrong name last time. Most people who go to these things are very understanding about re-introducing themselves. I’m pretty sure I’ve met the last guy at least four times and I’ve already forgotten his name. Again.”
“Scott.”
“Scott! I should remember that. I know at least six.”
They meandered through the party a bit more, but Harper Ash was getting impatient, which made the party less fun. Abruptly, Ash grabbed her hand and pulled her close. She liked the feeling of his body against hers. For a moment, she thought he was about to say something romantic.
“OK, I just realized that I didn’t eat lunch, and I’m kind of spazzing,” whispered Ash. “I don’t suppose you could grab me some snacks while I talk to this guy?”
His romantic message was a snack request. Harper swallowed her disappointment. This was what she had signed up for—to be his low-maintenance, big-help date. And at least he was being polite, unlike Cooper. He had just demanded that she carry his wallet, keys, and snacks in her purse.
“No problem,” Harper said and headed for the line of tables against the wall.
Neatly draped with black linens, they held a variety of hors d’oeuvres.
She had just taken a plate when she saw Stephanie Richland standing a few steps away, glaring at her.
Harper didn’t know how she was supposed to behave.
Was Harper allowed to pretend not to recognize her? Was she supposed to say hello?
Stephanie was wearing a restrained gray dress, and was talking to a gentleman in a flamboyant flamingo-print shirt under a black suit jacket. Harper decided that interrupting their conversation would be rude and focused on finding snacks that would suit Ash.
“Apparently, she’s Ash’s new paramour.”
Harper didn’t have any trouble hearing the note of derision and she decided to take a politely firm approach. She turned around and smiled.
“I’m sorry. I think the word you were looking for was girlfriend.”
“Well, you did say that at my husband’s birthday. Rather loudly. How did Ash meet someone like you anyway?”
“In an elevator on the way to a party,” said Harper, gritting her teeth.
“Amusing. Tommy, what do you think?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t in that elevator,” said Tommy. He attempted to take a drink but found only ice in his glass. “I should get a refill,” he muttered.
“Why, Tommy! Don’t tell me you haven’t met Ash’s girlfriend either?” asked Stephanie, reaching out and pulling Tommy back. “I thought you and Ash were friends.”
Harper realized the buffet line was moving and took a forced step, trying to keep track of the plate and the conversation.
“We’re friends,” said Tommy, sounding annoyed. He looked near sixty and had a crisply coiffed hairstyle and pink leather loafers. “I don’t keep him in my pocket.”
“Oh,” said a familiar voice and Harper turned to see Colin Kwayana, a few paces away, making his way along the food table as well. “Harper’s great. Tommy, you’ll love her. Harper meet Tommy Dean. Tommy meet Harper Smoak.”