Chapter Three #2
The Uber was at the curb just seven minutes later and I hopped in. The car wound away from the little house that Tara and I had found in the Old Navy City part of Bainbridge. And as we pulled up to the ferry terminal, I realized why they had paid for so many hours.
Ferries were involved in getting to Seattle.
I wasn’t used to not having bridges everywhere—that was the standard on the East Coast. The only places that you couldn’t reach by car or public transit were way down in the Outer Banks and up by Rhode Island and Massachusetts.
Everything else was accessible at least by walking bridge or public trans.
Here, everything was ferries. I kind of got it; you couldn’t build a bridge where boats were built unless you had an enormously tall span and that didn’t really work.
Also, building a bridge like that on an active fault line was kind of stupid.
That was why there were no tunnels, either—though even thinking about a tunnel under the Sound was insane.
So, the Uber lined up and waited for the next ferry to Seattle from Bainbridge.
It was a thirty-five-minute sail across the Sound, but the load was ten minutes, and unloading was fifteen because there was always some dingbat who came running down at the last minute instead of sitting in their car as the ferry docked. It was no different this time either.
…I had the feeling this was why my date had paid for so many hours. They were Seattle natives and knew this.
The Benaroya Theater appeared and I was impressed. It was no Lincoln Center, but it was well done and well lit. The Uber pulled up at the end of the limos and parked.
“Would you like me to get in line and get the royal treatment?”
“I’m good, I can walk it.” I tapped a few buttons on the app and paid the driver. I hopped out with a thanks and headed inside the building. I was immediately stopped by an usher.
“Ticket, sir?”
I grimaced internally, reaching into the jacket pocket hoping I had put the envelope in there. My fingers felt the paper, and I let out a small breath. I wasn’t used to being asked, and that sounded really arrogant to my own mind.
The ticket was right at the front of the envelope when I opened it and handed to the usher. “Sorry about that. Didn’t want to lose it.”
“Understandable,” he nodded, looking at it then handing it back. “I’d keep it a little more accessible, sir. We have been instructed to request tickets from anyone we don’t recognize.”
“Recognize?”
“Yes, sir. This is a Matthew Shepard Foundation fundraiser. We are always on the look-out for anything out of order. I’m sure you understand.”
Nodding, I took the ticket back. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” I did understand but it was weird being an unknown. I’d been a “known” for years on the New York scene.
More things to get used to.
The inside of the theater was modern, and gorgeous. I was starting to annoy myself with how I kept thinking, this isn’t what New York would do-have-be. Of course, it wasn’t and that was the whole point. I purposefully moved 2,836 miles to get away from that hell.
Not the city, the city was fine. My life there.
I looked around again. Seattle was a new city; things were made of glass and fancy materials.
It made sense for these windows to be so big and bright because it was cloudy and rainy nine months of the year.
And recently, it was just hot the other three.
The glass wouldn’t be efficient for that, but the other nine were harder on the psyche.
The main lobby was decorated with lights and rainbows, and I loved it.
The foundation had always been one of my favorites, and I already felt like I belonged here.
I walked along the corridor, snagged a drink and headed for the balcony, which was oddly the level I was on. I didn’t understand that, until I did.
The corridor opened up to the massive windows I had seen earlier, and the lobby floor appeared at the bottom of the stairs just ahead of me. The decorating theme bloomed out and flowed down them, out to the lobby and the tables and just… it looked lovely.
Finally pulling my eyes away from the lobbyscape, I looked back to the balcony. The instructions said that I should wait by the table opposite the stairs. I moved that direction and leaned against the wall just next to the table that was full of more champagne glasses.
I glanced at my watch. Another reminder of what I used to have, it was an entry level Philipe Patak that I had spent weeks researching and there was no way I was leaving it behind or hawking it.
Well, I would have if it had gotten down to that. I was glad it hadn’t. Standing there, dressed for a date through a dating agency was the reason I hadn’t. Weird twist of fate.
As inconspicuously as I could, I pulled out the envelope that had a picture of my date, and I had to admit… he was cute. Very cute. Not my usual type, but I couldn’t find fault in that.
Considering.
I tucked the photo back in and started looking around for my date. He was going to be wearing a dark navy tux with an powder blue bow tie. Pretty unique, wouldn’t be hard to spot.
Meanwhile, I got to people watch, which was one of my favorite things to do. It kept me occupied while the room started to fill up more and more.
And then, I could see a navy suit walking down the hall with that blue bowtie. Next to him was an objectively beautiful young woman in a spectacular purple dress.
That navy tuxedo, though. He was even better than his picture.
Just a little shorter than I was, his hair was artful natural messy, and the suit was clearly custom.
It hugged in all the right places, and his creamy, warm skin stood out against it.
He had dark eyes, and long fingers that fiddled with the bowtie.
Cute.
I didn’t move and just watched the two of them. Siblings, I guessed, I knew I was right a moment later when the original templates appeared behind them, also objectively good-looking people. The cutie’s eyes came from dad, and the hair from mom. He had mom’s cheeks and dad’s nose and forehead.
It all worked, and it worked for me.
Oh.
That was the first time in the six months since we’d been here. I hadn’t felt any attraction at all for four months before that, after finding out that Jarrett had screwed me over and I spent that time trying to save my own ass. I didn’t have time, and here I didn’t have interest.
Apparently, I did now.
The sister flowed down the stairs, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a few flashes of paparazzi cameras. Weird, I hadn’t seen anyone well known in the room, but I could have missed them to that point—I wasn’t circulating.
Her parents chased her down the stairs, clearly distressed that she was trying to be so independent. I’d have put money on them not liking that dress, the hair or that giant gem she’d been sporting.
The navy tux shook his head with a smile on his face and looked around.
His glance traveled right over me and landed on the champagne next to me.
He walked over, glancing around, but landing on that flute again.
Grabbing it, he looked to be thinking about something—not the drink, not the party—and just let out a little sigh.
I stood from the wall and walked toward him. A few different emotions flew across his face before I reached him.
“Hi, are you Andrej?”
He looked tempted to yeet himself out the window. “I am Andrej.”
“I’m Quinn, your date for the night.”
His lips pinched and then he let out a giant sigh. “My sister set this up and I’m going to kill her.”
“The woman in the liquid satin?”
“Woman—” he shook his head. “Yes, her. I had no idea you were going to be here.”
“Oh.” I was a little defeated.
“No, no… I had an idea someone was going to be here, but I didn’t expect a man.”
“You didn’t… Ah. Okay. I see.” I cleared my throat. “Well, if this is something that doesn’t work for you, I can cancel and head on home. I would just—”
He suddenly grabbed my elbow. “No. No, don’t… do that.” He stared at where his hand was resting on my arm. “Give me moment here. Currently the only thing going through my head is that I’m going to kill my sister, so let’s let that kind of percolate for a moment.”
“You had no idea your sister set this up?”
“I knew she set it up. I had no idea she had set it up with a man.”