6. A Mermaid & A Disaster
6
A MERMAID & A DISASTER
Sarah
No, no, no. This can’t be happening!
I rampaged through the room, desperately looking for him. I’d just won a date. My dumb, unattainable fantasy had come true, and now it had slipped away with a sequined girl into the night, my dreams going with it.
The table with his fiance was now deserted. He wasn’t at the bar or at the stage, or any of the other tables. What did he even look like, exactly? I’d only glimpsed him for a moment over my shoulder. Kensy reached my side, panting, and between breaths, she pointed to a door leading outside.
Bursting out into the parking lot, I looked around frantically. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of mermaid heading into the darkness. Narrowing my eyes with purpose, I scurried toward those sequins uncomfortably, cursing my heels.
“I don’t see why we have to leave now. You’re embarrassing me!” The mermaid was protesting to the man who held my hopes in his wallet .
“Hey!” I yelled, when I was close enough for him to hear.
They both turned around and stared at me. He looked as uncomfortable as my feet were in that moment and my eyes blazed at him.
The mermaid looked at him and asked, “Who’s that?”
“Oh, er,” he dallied, searching for something reasonable to say, “She’s the new… Secretary.”
The mermaid looked at me unimpressed. When I didn’t say anything, she blurted out rudely, “Well, what do you want?”
Just at that moment, a shriek rang out behind me.
“Laaannaa! Where did you go?”
“Christiieeeee,” the mermaid bawled back, “Oh my god, Edward says we have to go!”
I saw my chance as the girls went to embrace each other and quickly approached him. “You’d better write that check right now, or I’m about to tell that girl everything that happened in there.”
The man - the one I’d just found out was called Edward - gulped, considered his options, and realizing he didn’t have any, pulled out his checkbook.
“How much are you short?”
“Eighty-three thousand dollars!”
His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.
“Edward!” the mermaid howled, “Let’s stay for just one more!”
“Get on with it,” I growled at him under my breath.
“Okay, just one!” He called back, and then he scrawled out the numbers on his checkbook.
“You should be thanking me,” he hissed as he thrust the paper into my outstretched palm.
In return, I threw him a look that told him exactly what I thought to that, before I turned on my heels to go and claim my rightful prize. Striding back into the ball, Kensy was by the doors, looking for me.
“There you are! Did you get him!?”
I nodded, looking down at the check in my hands like it was a golden ticket. In a funny kind of way, I guess it was. Was this really happening?
“Then let’s go get him!”
It only hit me properly then. By him, she meant Hayden Raynor. I actually had a date with Hayden Raynor !
We found the auctioneer’s assistant by the stage, looking annoyed.
“There you are! You’re meant to come straight up to the stage.”
Kensy chimed in, “Bathroom break. I have a weak bladder. Is that a problem?”
He stared back at her uncomfortably, and then sighed painfully.
“Check?”
“Oh, actually two checks!”
After I handed them to him, he seemed a lot more relaxed. “Well, Mrs. Mitchell…”
“Miss!” I corrected him, still in disbelief.
“Okay, Miss Mitchell. Just go through those doors and enjoy your evening.”
Kensy was hopping and clapping her hands together next to me. We hugged excitedly, before I turned in a daze and left her to go and meet my destiny.
Through the double doors, he was already there, waiting. For a moment I could hardly breathe as I looked up at him, actually standing in front of me, waiting for his date with me .
“Hi Hayden,” I said, with shy velvet on my tongue .
“Yeah. Hi.” He barely took a glance at me.
“Nice shirt,” I offered.
It wasn’t really a nice shirt, it was just a white t-shirt. But I suppose what I really meant was love that torso on you . Maybe he’d throw me a compliment back, something I could really savor for weeks - or even months - afterward, and then we’d smile and go on our date.
“Huh? Okay.” He grunted, looking down at the cotton that covered the ripple of muscles below.
He looked back up at me dumbly, before mumbling flatly, “I guess let’s go eat or something.”
“I’d like that,” I gushed back at him.
Should I slide my arm into his? Take his hand?
He turned and walked away from me, so I ended up just trotting behind him, awkwardly trying to keep up with his impossibly long strides in my five-inch heels.
As we headed toward the end of the corridor, there was a man waiting for us. Hayden nodded at him as we approached, him striding, me trotting.
“So, Fletch, am I supposed to drive or…”
“No, there’s a limo waiting for you outside,” the man said. To which Hayden visibly rolled his eyes, before he turned his giant head back to me.
“After you, Sandra.”
“Sarah,” I corrected him.
“Sure.”
I looked up at him, and when he didn’t bother to look back, I just followed his outstretched arm out the back of the building.
The ride was a short one, but the silence made it feel like forever. Hayden stared glumly out the limo window while I smoothed out my dress and tried not to blush the whole way. This was my chance to go out on a date with the great Hayden Raynor. I couldn’t waste it.
“Do you know the place we’re going to?” I asked.
“Nope.” He said, still staring out of the window, his chin resting along one big meaty fist, looking bored.
I felt a sharp pang of disappointment and embarrassment. I’d let myself get carried away. Of course, I wasn’t what he had hoped for, or would ever be interested in. I had to try, though. Once we broke the ice, surely we could have some fun. Maybe I just needed to get on his level.
“Hey, I saw you take down that Sampson guy in the last game. You were brilliant!”
“You were there?” He grunted back.
“No. I mean, I saw it on TV.”
“Oh.” was his one-word response to this.
Damnit, why wasn’t I there? Because tickets were going for over three hundred bucks was why!
“Think the team have got a chance next year?”
“A chance for… what ?”
“Y’know, the Championship!”
He grunted and shrugged.
This was not going how I had hoped, but I wasn’t ready to give up and spied the ice bucket next to us.
“Ooh, champagne! Shall we be naughty and have a glass?”
“You go for it,” he waved his hand at me.
With nothing else for it, I poured myself a glug into a long-stemmed glass and we sat quietly for the rest of the drive while I sipped slowly on the fizzing glass of bubbles. In truth, it tasted as sweet and bad as gas station sparkling wine, and I would know.
Things got worse at the restaurant. Hayden didn’t pull my seat out for me, didn’t ask me what I liked on the menu, or even if I’d like a drink. When the waiter first approached us and asked if we’d like to order drinks or starters, he just said, “Beer and chicken wings.”
“Oh, we don’t do chicken wings here. Perhaps I could recommend the duck confit?”
“You don’t do wings?” He asked incredulously.
“Um, okay. Let me ask the chef and we’ll see what we can do.”
Hayden turned back to the menu while the waiter looked nervously at him.
“And for the lady?”
“Oh, a glass of red, please.”
“Okay, which one?”
“Erm, whatever’s a good one, but not too expensive, just, y’know, a normal one.”
I sounded stupid and flustered and I would have been annoyed with myself if Hayden had even noticed.
“Okay, I’ll come back for your food order when you’ve had a chance to look at the menu,” our waiter said, flashing a nervous glance at Hayden who was now aggressively chewing the nails on one of his massive paws and still pretending to read the menu.
I wondered for a moment if he could even read. What if he was just insecure and being like this because he couldn’t? He’d never even had to with being a hockey player. I could help him and bring him out of his shell and turn his life around. Imagine the world of menus and other foods that would open up to him!
“What’s potato dolphins?” He asked without looking at the waiter, who had nearly made his escape.
“Um, potato dauphinoise? It’s a sauteed potato in a rich creamy bechamel sauce that our chef prepares in a very special… ”
“Yeah. That. And the wings.”
“If we can do them, how many of those would you want?”
“Like, ten pounds I guess.”
“Ten pounds! That’s quite a lot of…”
“Uhh, I know my wings. That’s what, forty wings? Forty is good.”
The waiter stood staring at Hayden with hatred burning in his eyes.
“I’ll just have the duck confit, thank you,” I said, handing my menu back to the waiter, hoping that taking his earlier recommendation might oddly smooth things over.
“Very good,” the waiter said, before fleeing. I wondered how that conversation in the kitchen would go.
“Would you really eat forty wings?” I asked after a moments more silence, trying to sound interested.
“Uh huh,” Hayden said, still not looking up from the menu.
“Gee, lotta wings! Well… What do you do when you’re not playing hockey?”
“Eat wings. Drink beer. Drive around I guess.”
“Oh. Well, do you have family here?”
He flinched at this and then decided not to answer me.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I finally told him, receiving no response. I really wanted to kick him under the table and tell him to have some manners, but I don’t think he would’ve noticed that either.
In the bathroom, I looked at my miserable face. I was wearing my cutest dress, my make-up delicately conjured to show off my nice eyes and mouth. My long brown hair pressed, straightened, and then lightly curled to perfection. On my neck was a soft and delightful hint of my favorite French perfume that was down to the last couple of drops in the bottle. Not to mention all that had gone on under that dress. All this, and the man couldn’t even look at me. Was I that bad? That unworthy? I felt those old and strong feelings of rejection and torment return. The same ones that I’d spent the last five years trying to lock into a box I would never have to open again. Yet, there they were, rising again to mock me.
I took a long breath and gave myself a steely look. You get back out there and you try harder damnit! This isn’t over yet.