Cera #2
The call catches me off guard, the question more so.
"I did manage to survive the terrifying distance between the airport and my front door."
He doesn't laugh, but I hear something shift in his breathing.
"Good. Just wanted to check on you."
I press my palm against my forehead, a giant smile breaking out across my face. No one checks on me.
"Thanks for asking."
"Of course. Have a good night, Cera. See you Monday."
"You too, Wells."
He ends the call, and I sit there, phone still in my hand, trying to make the moment more casual. It doesn't work.
I stand outside the dressing room holding three ties Locke tossed over the door five minutes ago.
"I look like I'm about to sell you insurance."
I glance at the navy pinstripe draped over his shoulder.
"You look fine."
"Fine is what people say when you've already lost. You know I don't do fine."
He disappears back inside, and I lean against the mirror, bags from the last two stores clustered at my feet. We've been at this for hours. Locke has a day-trader conference in Vegas coming up, and apparently his entire wardrobe has personally offended him.
The door swings open again, and he steps out in charcoal slacks and a white button-down, no tie this time.
"Better?"
"Much. This is more you, hands down."
He turns to the mirror, tugging at the cuffs.
"I need night clothes too. It's Vegas. I fully intend to be on the prowl."
"You say that every time."
"And every time I'm correct. I'm a tiger, I prowl, Cera."
He grins at me in the reflection, then heads back inside to change.
I move to the rack near the window, fingers brushing over fabrics I'm not here to buy. Sunlight pours through the glass, loud after the quiet of my apartment this morning.
Locke emerges in his own clothes, arms full of hangers.
"Okay, verdict time. Keep or return?"
I point to the charcoal slacks and two of the shirts.
"Those. Lose the rest."
"Even the blue one?"
"Especially the blue one."
He sighs, dramatic and wounded, then dumps the rejects on the counter.
We move to the next store, and Locke picks up a tie covered in tiny geometric shapes.
"Thoughts?"
"Are you going to a conference or a middle school dance? Big fat no."
He puts it back. At the register, while the clerk rings him up, Locke turns to me.
"So. You've been suspiciously quiet all afternoon. I was trying not to ask, but it's clear you're not going to volunteer, sooooo….." He drags out the o's in so, as if that somehow negates his prying.
"I've been giving fashion advice for two hours. How is that quiet?"
"You know what I mean. Quiet about the work trip." He squints his eyes when he says the last part, as if it's code for something else.
I lean on the other end of the counter as the associate rings him up.
"You want me to tell you you were right?"
Locke hands over his card, eyes still on me, now with a giant smile across his face.
"I knew it."
I smile despite myself.
We leave the store, and Locke steers us toward the food court. He orders a smoothie, I get coffee, and we sit at a table near the fountain where kids are throwing pennies and screaming.
"Okay," Locke says. "Now that Judy at the counter isn't eavesdropping. I want details. Don't hold back."
I wrap both hands around my cup.
"As I'm sure you've guessed, Wells and I slept together. Again. And you were right, there is no logical reason I needed to go, so, I'm not really sure what else to say about it, except I liked it and I'm okay with him creating reasons to take me places. How's that?"
Locke's eyebrows lift, but he doesn't look surprised.
"And?"
"And it wasn't just sex this time."
Locke leans forward, smoothie forgotten.
"What does that mean? You're being insanely vague."
I try to find the right way to say it. Wells kissing me before we left the hotel. The call last night just to check I made it home. The coordinates on his ribs, and how he told me about his brothers without hesitating.
"He's different than he is at work. We talked. Really talked. Underneath all that gruffness, there's a genuinely interesting man, and I'm enjoying getting to know him."
Locke watches me, his expression shifting into something I can't quite read.
"I knew the minute you told me about your interview that you would like him. I knew it."
"I actually really like him."
Locke smiles genuinely.
"I love that for you. I'm glad to see you allowing yourself to go there. No more guilt about the faceless Midnight. Speaking of, did you break up with him?"
"Locke, as you said, there's no breaking up because we are not dating. It's a business arrangement. So no, I didn't break up with him. We have a call tonight, as a matter of fact."
"And no more guilt there? You've made peace with it, one of them real and the other a fantasy?"
"Mostly. I'm still fond of whoever Midnight is, but I've got a better handle on what that is now. He's been weird lately, anyway." I tip my cup, watching the coffee swirl. "I'm starting to think you're right on that, too. Maybe he has a wife."
"Really? Maybe the timing is perfect, then. What's he doing differently?"
"It's hard to explain. Pulling away, but not.
" A kid at the fountain shrieks over a thrown penny, and I wait it out.
"We still talk three times a week, and he still pays me like we agreed.
But several nights he doesn't want to, you know…
at all. The other night, he let me turn off my camera and just wanted to fall asleep together. "
Locke sets his smoothie down.
"Interesting"
"Yeah. I stopped trying to figure out what it meant. So things are cooling there, right as whatever this is with Wells starts to take shape." I pick at the lid of my cup. "Which could be a whole lot of nothing come tomorrow."
"What makes you say that?"
"After the first time, at work, it was like nothing happened. I'm not sure what to expect tomorrow at work."
"Ah, I see. In his defense, I get it." Locke stirs the last of his smoothie. "It's not like you two can flirt and run off to the janitor's closet every day. You've got work to get done and coworkers around."
He has a point there.