6 BEN #2
“See you,” I say casually, even though it doesn’t feel casual.
It should. She’s an acquaintance, not a date.
She’s not new, not particularly friendly and not at all interested in spending more time with me.
And yet I think…I think, even as a bloke who makes thrill seeking a part-time career, I’m more excited now than I have been in ages.
_____
I smile at the woman, who may or may not detest me, as she breezes out of her hotel lobby toward my limo.
“Darling, we meet again.”
“Food,” is all she says.
I snort and open the door for her. She climbs in and I follow.
With both of us inside and the door shut, I say, “Thank you for asking, love, my afternoon was dreadfully dull without your elbow jabs and eye rolls. And yours?”
She smirks, “It was awesome. I fell asleep in million-count thread sheets to the sounds of women being catty on the TV. I can’t remember the last time I took a nap.”
I frown, “What exactly do you do on the weekends, then?”
“Chores? Errands? All the things I didn’t have time for during the week when I was doing this weird thing called WORKING.”
“For me. At my condiments empire,” I smile, she glares and we freeze that way, her refusing to be charmed by me and me refusing to be ruffled by her.
My driver clears his throat, “Sir?”
“Oh, right,” I mumble. We’ve just been sitting here, blocking traffic. “Where to?”
“Sushi?” she asks.
“Whatever my employee wants, she gets!” I say loudly. “To Nobu!”
“May take a while to go down the strip at this time, sir?”
“You can go round the other way,” I tell him. Janie looks over at me so I ask her, “Unless you want to drive the strip? See the sights? It seemed like I ought to get you to the food as soon as possible.”
“Yeah, food first,” she agrees.
“Why are you all way down here at the Strat anyway?”
She shakes her head slightly and looks out the window. “I’m guessing because Mellman’s Mayo is pretty low on the Clark Industries totem pole.”
“Hm,” I don’t disagree.
She lifts an exposed shoulder in the same tight but work-place-acceptable one-piece halter thing, this time with a light sweater over top, as she says, “I get it. It does feel very small-town Mom-and-Pop. I was surprised it was one of yours.”
“That was meant to offend me, yeah?”
She glances over, “Not really. I mean, maybe a little.” Her eyes twinkle in the passing lights. “But I’d also be surprised if it was part of Procter and Gamble or—”
“How dare you mention P&G aloud!” I cut her off.
“Oh right! Sorry. They warned me about that. That and Unilever and—”
“Stop, woman, my ears are bleeding!” I joke again.
She almost laughs.
So close.
Then she says, “It’s just kind of a hokey brand.
Did you know the office has been fully decked out in Halloween decorations for weeks?
” I raise an eyebrow but don’t interrupt.
She’s getting animated, “I don’t mean, like, a bulletin board either.
I’m talking wall to wall webbing, spiders, each division has a theme and an entry arch with things that make noise and pop out at you. ”
“Sounds…fun?”
“One, no. Two, maybe happy-holidays-people could think that was fun from October twenty-first to thirty-first. They put it all up in September, Benedict. Sep.Tem.Ber.”
“Right, yeah, I see your point.” I imagine what I can remember of the Mellman’s office from images at the expo.
I try to picture her there, rolling her eyes at some jump scare grim reaper.
I start to remember a bit more about the place.
“Wait, isn’t Mellman’s the office who goes a bit mad for the holidays? ”
“Well, it’s not really Mellman’s. It’s Juniper Falls, the town.
It’s a whole thing for tourists from October to New Years.
But since basically all the residents work at the factory, it’s crept into Mellman’s building and the whole company culture.
That’s why Halloween goes up so early because I think on the actual thirty-first a team goes in and redecorates for Thanksgiving. It was an interview question.”
My brow scrunches, “What was?”
“Do you enjoy celebrating all the fall holidays?”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not, and they had some serious judgy eyes about it too.”
“And, so? Did you smile and say ‘Happy Christmas?’”
“Merry Christmas. We say Merry Christmas here.”
“Right. That. Did you lie?”
She locks eyes with me and gives me the biggest, fakest smile I’ve ever seen, and she raises her voice like a peppy cheerleader. “I love it so much! Is it too early to put up a tree in September?!”
My head jerks back. “Bloody hell.”
Her smile drops, “Scary, right?”
“That smile should be your bit for Halloween. Terrifying.”
She laughs.
Yes! Score one for me.
“I know, and I didn’t like lying but I needed the job.”
“You don’t enjoy the holidays then?”
She looks off into the distance. I can almost see the truth in her brain, things she’s editing out, or trying to reword. She ends up saying, “Can you imagine being from Juniper Falls?”
“Wait, from? You actually grew up there?” I ask, slack-jawed.
“Weird, right? And it was as horrible as one would imagine. I mean, as a little kid you think it’s great.
Then you get older and realize year after year it’s the same cheesy stuff.
The town got smaller and smaller too. Everyone is in your business.
You think I don’t have a filter? Forget it.
” She says the words with a slash of her hand.
“Anyway, if you’re a people person maybe you’d love it even as an adult but, as you know, I am not the most social person.
” I chuckle, but at the same time I wonder at her estimation of herself.
Sure, she likes to call an early night but she’s spent two days with me and honestly, I’ve had a blast. She goes on, “It’s just a very social time.
So many parties, photo opps, people being fake. ”
“The small talk,” I add.
“So much of it! I don’t want to hear about your epic pumpkin bread recipe again, Gary!”
I laugh loudly. Her eyes glance my way for a beat before she looks back out the window.
Reminded of how little she likes chatting, I leave her be for the last few minutes of the drive. Nigel guides us through a back door of the restaurant to a secluded corner booth.
Janie looks around us as we sit and whispers, “I’m pretty sure your fans can still find you back here.”
“One can only hope,” I whisper back. She chuckles into her menu and I wish the big leather thing wasn’t blocking her mesmerizing face.
“So, was Nigel keeping people away from you at the bars last night?” She asks.
I grimace, sure she won’t like my answer, “It was dark.”
“And?”
“And he told the manager not to seat anyone else around us.” I quickly add, “It’s not that I’m a prick, it’s just one person one table over takes out their phone to snap a photo, then others, then my location is posted on social media, on and on.”
“Wow. That sounds awful.”
“I hardly notice it anymore. And you didn’t notice last night, right?”
She thinks. “No, I guess I didn’t.”
“Nigel, you get a raise mate!” I call to him.
“Aye, you said that last month.” He grumbles.
“Poor guy,” she says.
“Ugh, fine.” I get out my phone and type a message to Mitch, then make a point to show it to her. Nigel gets a real raise this time. She smiles wide. I fight the urge to tack on a raise for Mitch and my drivers too while she’s watching.
We order drinks and food and settle into more getting-to-know-you questions.
In few, carefully chosen words, she says she and her brother were close until their teens. I answer what it’s like to be a twin with my brother Byron.
She admits yes, she was a dancer in school.
I admit I played polo, as did my brothers. I accept the justified teasing from an American about that. Yes, it’s field hockey on horses. It is just a bit too British, I agree.
There’s a brief moment my brain stalls out at her groans over the food. Apparently she loves fresh sushi almost as much as napping. Her head goes back and her eyes close and I have to adjust myself under the table.
I snap myself out of it and finally we arrive at the University years. She says she went to NYU and then quickly redirects the questions back to me. I tell her a few hilarious memories from my days at Cambridge. I almost get another laugh.
“That’s it!” She cuts me off as I’m about to start a third story. “You need to think through your friends in college.”
“What?”
“For your little marriage problem.”
“Oh. That.” I’d blissfully forgotten about that the past day and a half.
She nods, “Yes, back when you had real friends, not people trying to climb you.” I choke on my drink and she corrects herself. “ Social climbing. C’mon Mr. Threesome, get a grip.”
I pound my chest and cough before I ask, “You think the scheming and politics were better at University?”
Her face falls, “They weren’t?”
“Definitely not. The women there, as brilliant and remarkable as some of them were, many were just there because their father sent them there to get an M.R.S.”
“Still,” she tries to rally, “What about your best friends from back then. Or even your friends now, real friends, surely some of them have nice sisters? Cousins? Single friends?”
I think through my best mates… Aiden, Collin, Dennis, my two brothers. Two of the those last three ended up with Canton girls. I suppose those guys, Emerson’s brothers-in-law, are all good friends now, Skye and her husband…the others…they all have a good friend…
I lean toward her involuntarily, “And what about you, are you single?”
She doesn’t understand the question. “Yeah, but my friends-of-friends pool doesn’t include any great single people. Plus, I’m not looking for…” she pauses when she realizes I’m staring. “What?”
“You’re single.” I say.
“Ye—”
“And you’re not trying to climb me. In fact, I’d venture to say you don’t particularly like me very much.”
She squirms in her seat, “I, uh, I mean…”
“You won’t be a bore, plying me with shallow compliments. You’re stunning, of course, wicked smart, we already know each other and, if I’m not mistaken, you are in need of money.”
“What are you…”
“Don’t know if you’ve heard, love, but I have loads of it. Heaps. Mounds,” I draw out the last word and her eyes blow wide.
There it is.
And three, two, one…