Chapter 4
I am not a psycho who fell for a man in clown makeup and caught feelings in the subsequent twenty-minute exchange.
Despite my limited experience with romance (one lukewarm boyfriend in law school and a few dates as an undergrad), I do have better taste and judgment when it comes to men than to fall for jerkfaces.
Before I let any inner judge, jury, or critic deliberate over my verdict, I have more evidence to wade through when it comes to Mike Benedick.
So I’m going to revisit that evening last April.
I’m leaving my brother’s escape room, and I have every intention of getting in my car and schlepping it back to Del Mar. But then I see Mike standing on the corner of Garnet Avenue and Cass Street. He’s got one hand in his hair, the other pressing his phone to his ear.
I feel a wave of unexpected relief realizing he actually did have a phone call he had to take. That’s the reason I spend a beat taking in the sight of him on the corner. Laughing, chatting, doing all the things normal people do. So why am I so transfixed?
I think it’s his shoulders. They should be bunched, conveying the ubiquitous tension that comes to eat all our lunches because of modern life. Instead, they’re relaxed, down and back. He’s talking with passion, his hand conjuring success and every other good thing out of the ether.
It’s attractive. He’s attractive. Yes, he’s talented and has wildly convincing intensity when he’s in cosplay, but when we were chatting for the photos, he was playful and so wonderfully aware.
He was going to ask me out before he took that phone call.
He flirted with me. And I didn’t even get a chance to flirt back.
I came all this way. I may as well walk to the pier. Who knows, I might even kick off my shoes and stick my feet in the water. And yes, heading to Crystal Pier means I’ll have a reason to walk right past Mike. Won’t that feel nice?
I smile and politely, if coyly, wave as I saunter past him. I was expecting a return smile. I was not expecting Mike to fall into step beside me.
“Fantastic,” he says, still on the phone. “Yeah, we can touch base next week after I’ve scheduled rehearsals. Cheers.” He hangs up and beams at me. “You walk fast.”
“I’m in a hurry.”
“If it’s in hopes of getting us a table before the dinner rush, I’m afraid we’re a little late. We could try—”
“I’m headed to the pier.” I have my standards when it comes to actual dates, and Mike will have to work harder if he wants the pleasure of my company for a meal.
“What a coincidence, so am I.” His lips press into a quiet smile while his eyebrows draw upward.
“Has that ever worked before?”
“I’ll let you know in about twenty minutes.”
I shake my head, laughing. “Smooth.”
“And no, I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“A psycho in real life. If we’re headed to the pier, I figured I might as well tell you.”
“So all the slithering intensity was…”
“Just an act. A caricature, really.”
“So you are an actor.”
“Yes and no. I’m a student. Not part of any official guild. And… This place makes the best cookies in all of PB.” Mike holds the door open for me, and we step inside a modest café with a counter filled with cookies.
“It smells amazing.” Which must be why there is a line out the door.
“Order for Mike,” the cashier calls.
Mike shrugs. “I ordered ahead.” He collects a bag from the cashier. “Thanks,” he says to the man. To me, he says, “Nutella chocolate chunk or the flavor of the month?”
“I’ll take my chances on the flavor of the month.”
“It’s baklava-inspired.”
I nibble on the nutty, honey cookie. My fingers are going to be a sticky mess, and ordinarily that would be no big deal, but…I’m already primed with all the first-date awkward discomfort. “So, you’re a comics fan? Like Adam?”
“Oh, um, no, actually. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the appeal. Superheroes just don’t get me out of bed in the morning. What about you?”’
“I’m a lawyer with a corporate nine-to-five.
” It’s supposed to feel so good to say that.
I’m a lawyer. It’s part of who I am. But it never does.
Maybe it has something to do with my nine-to-five turning into seven-to-eleven.
“I don’t have much say when it comes to getting out of bed in the morning. ”
“But if you did?” Mike takes the smallest bite of his cookie.
“I like books better than comics.”
“Oh, come on. You must have grown up watching superheroes on the big screen at least.”
“Adam and I spent many Saturdays at the matinee.” I inhale the last of my cookie. “Honestly, Starship Cruiser has always been more my speed.”
“Wonder why Adam didn’t go in for that franchise?”
“I’m sure it is only a matter of time and market analysis.”
“He does have a keen eye for the business of entertainment.”
“He’s lucky that way.” Lucky to have landed somewhere he feels passion. Lucky his soul has room to breathe. No danger of it getting crushed by the monotony of corporate work or sold to the highest/most patient bidder.
“May I call?”
“Don’t you need a number to call me?”
“Beatrice McKinney of McKinney, Rosenberg, and Wallace. If I ask nicely, your receptionist will transfer me to your corner office.”
“Cubicle. Only the partners get corner offices. Lowly associates get cubicles.”
Mike smiles. “Well, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you’ve secured exactly what you want.”
We find an empty stretch of the pier and watch as the tide comes in and crashes against the wooden pillars below.
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
An intensity flickers in Mike’s eyes. “Careful, Miss McKinney. Devils might take your words as an invitation.”
“Devils?” I laugh.
“‘Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.’”
I’m too captivated by Mike’s charm to stop and interrogate him, but did he knowingly quote Shakespeare’s The Tempest just now?
Mike leans against the railing. “Some would try to convince you that what you want is, in fact, what they want.”
“Really?”
“Truly,” Mike says so earnestly I might actually swoon. But later. Right now, I’m having too much fun.
“Can you give me a for instance?”
“For instance, some might use all their cunning to persuade you that what you want is to spend the rest of your evening walking on this beach with a scoundrel who is determined to keep you up all night…” Mike pauses and seems to be choosing his words carefully.
I lean in closer, resting my chin on my hand. “Talking?”
“Exactly.” His eyes narrow before a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Others would drag you to every last restaurant on this boardwalk, using each menu as an excuse to prolong the evening. ‘Oh, the small plates are better farther down. No, we have to get the entrée back up the road. Oh, the only dessert worth having is a forty-five minute walk away.’”
“I think I’d see through that.”
“Maybe, but the lava cakes at this bakery I know in Bird Rock are legendary. They’re usually only open from five a.m. to noon, but the owner hosts a dessert night for the local crowd every Thursday.
And if I can’t convince you with my description of rich tempered chocolate, then maybe the live music scene can get you the rest of the way. ”
“Jazz guitar?”
“And piano some nights. Dancing and dessert. It’s a good time. Especially if we get drinks at JRDN, tapas at Costa Brava, followed by a table at the Fishery for halibut.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“It is. Every corporate lawyer should try it at least twice in her life. Preferably in April. Preferably with me.”
“I…” Want nothing more than to take this man’s hand and spend the rest of the night eating, walking, laughing, and talking with him. But I can’t. I have work to do before those depositions in the morning. “Have to go. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“Well, should you want to get a hold of me, you’ll know exactly where I am every weekend once the escape room opens next month.”
“What if I want to get a hold of you sooner?”
Mike leans in. “You’re resourceful. I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”
The sea breeze picks up. Mike tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, and before he can pull away, I slide my hand on top of his.
My lips part. Our hands linger. I’ve never been part of one of those cliché couples who stare deeply into each other’s eyes on the beach.
But I have to say I now completely understand the appeal.
My eyes drift closed as Mike brings his other hand up to my face.
His hands are calloused. But so warm. Hopefully, his lips are even warmer.
That’s when his Apple Watch vibrates in my ear, and I realize I was about to kiss a man even though I can’t even remember his last name.
“Sorry,” Mike says, sounding as chagrined as I feel. “I swear I’m usually not this in demand.” He sighs. “I have to take this call.”
“It’s okay. I need to get going anyway. Traffic.”
He half smiles. “Yeah.”
We left it at that. He didn’t even say goodbye after he picked up the call. Just nodded as I awkwardly waved when I turned around at the end of the pier. It was a sign I should have recognized.