“No, thank you.” I shake my head and she stands there for a moment, like she wants to say something, but then decides better before walking away. I don’t watch her leave. I don’t watch the minutes ticking by on my Breitling, and I sure as fuck don’t watch the door.
From the outside, I am a study of relaxed patience, sipping on my water, mildly observing my surroundings without actually seeing any of it or making eye contact with anyone. It’s seven thirty when I find with some amusement that I might have actually been stood up. How entertaining. I decide to wait another ten minutes before leaving.
The whole time I find myself wondering what Essie Floyd is playing at.
Fine. If this is how she’s going to behave, then perhaps I will too. I wonder if she’ll be able to handle me playing a few games along with her.
FOURTEEN
ESSIE
I’m leaving my apartment when I hear someone calling my name. It’s a guy, and for a second I think it’s Aidan. I think that he’s somehow found out where I lived and come to pick me up, but when I turn I see Matt Campbell hurrying toward me.
“Fuck.”
“Essie!” He looks excited. Relieved. “Thank god I caught you. Why haven’t you been returning my calls or texts? Did you get them?” He looks me up and down. “You look amazing. Big plans?”
“Something like that. What are you doing here?”
He takes a step closer. “Ahh, come on now, sweetheart. I had to see you. I’ve missed you. Haven’t you missed me?”
I take a deep breath. “No.” Matt flinches. “I haven’t.”
He shakes his head, like he really can’t comprehend what I’m saying right now. “Why not? Why are you being so pissy?”
“I haven’t missed you because you’re a mediocre lay, Matt. Oh, and my pissy mood might have something to do with the fact that your wife paid me a visit actually. You know, the wife you told me you were separated from?”
His face blanches. Yeeeaahhhhh, this is what a guy looks like when he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Okay. You’re right,” he admits. “I should never have told you I was separated. But I’m unhappily married,” he says, as though this makes any difference. “If I were happily married—if my wife were giving it up the way you do—I wouldn’t need to do this. I wouldn’t have strayed.”
“So you’re blaming her?”
“I’m not blaming her, I just—” He sighs, as though I’m being difficult by somehow not understanding why he’s been cheating on his wife. “There’s no way that the sex Ellen and I have will ever be as hot as the sex you and me have. No fucking way.”
“I get it. I really do. But it’s not happening again, Matt, I thought I’d made myself clear on that front. Now I’m late. I don’t have time to be standing around having this argument with you.”
His expression darkens, turning angry. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“It’s nothing personal. Just…talk to your wife, Matt. Take her out for dinner. Jesus. I’ve got my own dinner that I’m already late for. I’ve gotta go.” I start to walk away.
He grabs my arm. “Please,” he says. “Just once more? For old time’s sake. Can you do that for me? Call it closure.” He smiles a lop-sided smile, his voice taking on a bargaining tone. “I’ll stop phoning you. I’ll stop texting, I’ll stop all contact. You have my word. I just need to be inside you one last time. I’ve been thinking about you for weeks. I can’t get you out of my head. Please.”
I actually consider it for a moment. I don’t do charity fucks, though, and I can’t let myself get sidetracked right now. Aidan is my goal. Getting to Aidan is the only thing that matters. I stare up at the man standing in front of me, still holding onto my arm, and I scowl.
“No, Matt. No. Now, please… get your hands off me before I break every single last one of your fingers.”
******
I’m pretty late by the time I get to the restaurant. Late enough that it wouldn’t surprise me if Aidan is already gone. The hostess greets me with a smile until I tell her who I’m here to see.
“Right this way,” she says, an icy tone in her voice. Her look clearly indicates she can’t believe that I’m the person Aidan has been sitting around waiting for. Clearly, she was expecting someone…more. “You’re very late. Mr. Callahan has been waiting quite some time.”
“I’m sure he’s not used to that.”
She shoots me a look but doesn’t say anything.
He’s sitting there at the table, nursing what appears to be a glass of water. His expression is hard to read, though it could be one of irritation or complete boredom. I sit down.
“You’re late,” he says.
“I am late. I had an unexpected visitor.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so.”
“Yes. But I’m here now. Did you order yet?”
“Of course not. A gentleman doesn’t order before his companion arrives.”
I open the menu and look at the list of entrees. The prices are staggering. “So…what do you recommend?”
I look at the menu for a few more seconds before I realize his menu is just lying there and he’s staring at me. “What?” I ask.
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here,” he says. “I mean—what’s your deal? You email me about paperwork. That I can understand. But then you ask me to go out to dinner. I agree, and you show up almost an hour late. Without even bothering to let me know.”
“I don’t have your phone number.”
“The restaurant has a phone.”
“And I told you I had an unexpected visitor. I was all ready to go. I would’ve been here on time if he hadn’t dropped by. He didn’t want to leave. It took some serious negotiating on my part to get him to go.”
“Are you trying to be cute?”
“No, not particularly. Why? Is the idea of me having an uninvited male guest over cute to you?”
For a second, I think that I’ve pushed it too far. That he’s going to get up and walk out of the place and never look back. Inwardly, I reprimand myself. I’m going to have to take it down a notch. I’m going to have to tread a little more carefully here. His expression is certainly hard to read, but it’s easy to tell that he’s annoyed right now, and me talking about my uninvited male visitor is not making things any better.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We’ve kind of gotten off to a rough start. That wasn’t my intention. I really do want to have a nice dinner. I swear I didn’t mean to be late. Thank you for waiting. I appreciate it, really, I do.”
Aidan holds my gaze for another few seconds, but then something close to a smile starts to form on his lips.
“You are something else,” he says. I can’t tell if he means that as a compliment or an accusation. Eventually, our waitress comes to take our order. He gets swordfish. I get veal medallions, even though I’ve never actually had veal before. When the waitress leaves, we both sit there in silence. I’m not sure what I want to say. He’s taking a sip of his drink and not looking at me, but as I watch his face, I realize he’s feeling uncomfortable. Ha! Well, isn’t that a turn up for the books. The great Aidan Callahan’s not quite as perfect or confident as Chicago’s elite has made him out to be.