Chapter 32: Red FgFollowing the waiter, Dan led me to the table, one of the nies he tree, an actual living tree at the tre of the restaurant, its graceful limbs unfurling towards the gss dome ceiling and glimmering with coiling fairy lights. The pce was busy, an intimate and well-dressed Saturday night crowd, swelling with a gentle murmur of polite versation, men in dress shirts and women—like me—in fashionably precise femininity: short dresses, tall heels, and makeup, the fsh of jewelry and nails apanying the tinkle of cutlery on ptes and gsses chiming in cheer.

  And Dan pulled back my chair for me, he’s such a fug gentleman, and I slid in with a practiced motion, smoothing down my dress and he pushed my chair babsp; I’m trapped now in this date, this forced evening performanbsp; I could’ve brushed him off, he was an hour te and if it hadn’t been for that goddamn stalker, I’d have escaped and that would’ve probably been it for Dan, I could’ve dumped him by text on the bus ride home.

  Instead, I sat there haunted by the final glimpse of Jeff looking almost pathetically forlorn as Da me up in his arms. There’d been such a look of hungry longing that I immediately thought of Julia, and her rapacious o humiliate me.

  Where was Jeff now? Still here, probably, maybe tapped into the restaurant’s security system, assessing and evaluating, watg whether I ed to his expectations of dy-ness. Was he rep back to his boss that David Sanders remained nowhere in sight?

  Time to focus oe. Truth is, Dan’s an alright guy. A year ago, I would’ve probably had him w on my team, te hours, shown him the ropes, taken him out for a beer. Gotten him drunk, pat on the back, dumped him in a taxi. He’s young, wet behind the ears and full of shit, bit of a dork but yeah… he’s okay. Pretty good shape, too: takes advantage of the pany gym, fundraiser marathons, that kind of shit. I respected that about him.

  Doesn’t mean I wao date the guy, though, wao sit opposite him half-naked in this nothing of a dress Julia chose for me, ed in strig derthings, sthered in makeup. Still, I smiled pleasantly at his bullshit, because that’s what a pretty girl does on a date, right? But something’s a bit off. He’s a little flushed, red in the fad not from running to get here te, and not only from the enter with Jeff. He’s already had a drink, or three.

  And when the waiter arrived to take our drinks, I opened my mouth to order anin a his hand over mio stop me. “It’s alright, babe, I’ve got this,” he said and ordered a bottle of Moet.

  Babe?

  And what the fuck’s up with men cutting me off tonight?

  He’s never shown this kind of fidence before, b on cocky with a dominant streak he’s kept well cealed until now. I’d have appuded him for it – if it weren’t damn well directed at me. Now looking at him closely, I he dress shirt, unbutto the colr, and strip of sweat hinting at a tie removed a beer or two ago. There’s a heavy, ky watch fshing at his wrist, showy and very new. He’s flushed, eyes bright with both eagerness ament – and fusion; he doesn’t know what to make of anuy, clearly hitting on me, breakers against which the cresting wave of his excitement just crashed.

  I left my hand under his just long enough to show her offense nor particur i—hopefully; how the fuen evaluate this shit?—before withdrawing to examihe menu. And immediately I’m struck that this pce is a hell of a lot more upscale than I’d thought. These prices – there’s no way I could afford this kind of pce—I could probably just about manage a starter without ft-lining my credit rating. Eating here I’d literally be in Dan’s debt. Goddammit, but Julia must’ve known that when she pushed me into this date.

  “Dan,” I whispered, leaning close. “I ’t afford this!”

  He grinned. “Hey, don’t worry, babe. I’ve got it.”

  That wain. “But Dan, it’s so expensive ….”

  “Hey,” he interrupted, suddenly authoritative. “I’ve got this,” he said, his tone final.

  dy, slightly abashed, hid her reddening face behind the menu, searg for the cheapest thing she could find. I’m merely bemused by this ge in attitude. Two weeks ago, before I’d drunk myself stupid, there’d been something genuinely charming about this guy, in a slightly geeky, trying-too-hard kind of way. This new Dan, spshing cash and taking charge was… ued; and annoying, to be ho.

  Maybe he picked up on dy’s surprise, because he mollified his tone a little. “Hey, holy,” he tinued. “Don’t worry about it. I afford it. Haven’t you heard?”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Heard what?”

  “Promotion, babe!” His grin split into a wide, ho smile. “Your boyfriend’s just made Lead Researcher at Volumina Iional!”

  Boyfriend?

  I gaped at him, and he burbled on before I could protest: “I k was in the works but didn’t expeything just yet. But then Fatima handed in her notice st week, and the boss was very happy with the Ariel Jeans trad…,” he took a breath. “Are you listening?”

  “Of course!” I said and smiled. “But… boyfriend?”

  He leaned closer across the table. His hand reached for mine; our fiouched, and he held them gently, my shaped nails a soft shimmer against his darker skin. “Well… yeah,” he said.

  Fortunately, the waiter arrived just then with a pair of elegant flutes in one hand, bottle of Champagne iher. She popped the bottle and poured the fizz. I chewed my lip, anxiously; and picked up the gss by the sleem, and they rang out their clear tone of celebration as we cheered.

  “To promotions,” I announced.

  “No,” he said. “To us.”

  When the waiter took our order, I tried asking for the cheapest main on the menu, some kind of vegan risotto, but again Dan interrupted. “Chateaubriand,” he ordered, “for the dy and me.”

  “Dan….” I tried, meekly, but he ignored me as he ordered starters and sides, and a bottle of red: a Pinot, a poor choice to pair with the steak but I suspected he wasn’t ied in hearing my opinion on this.

  “Dan,” I tried again after the waited left.

  “You have to admit,” he tinued over me as though I hadn’t spoken. “I’m quite the catch, right? Up-and-ing, right?” His hand, once again finding mine, csped it more firmly this time. “Don’t you think? You could do a lot worse than a guy like me.”

  And the thing was, this heady mix of taking-charge and pathetic openness was… well, there was almost something endearing about it, if it hadn’t been quite so rude. Despite the dress and makeup, heels and lingerie, and the apparent differences in es, I felt an almost paternal instinct to take him under my wing, as it were, and show him how’s it done, how to win a woman over without falling ba brute rudeness and boasting. His approach was almost hirious in its iness, and I swallowed a gulp of champago hide my smile. The bubbles sparked against my tongue as I sidered my response.

  I couldn’t ugh at him, though I wao.

  I could tell him to fuck off: an hour te, for me, interrupting and bragging – those were an obvious red fg for most women, right?

  But what about dy? I didn’t want to sell her short: she was a damn fi herself—cute; no, more than just cute, sexy, damn sexy and frankly, nobody knew her potential. A guy like Dan would do well to have a girl like dy hanging off his arm.

  At the same time, well--she was young, inexperienced and to be ho, Dan wasn’t wrong: he was a catch firl like me, retively o town in a low-paying, dead-end job, on her own and friendless. He was good looking, he had a good job, had friends, and professionally heading in the right dire… what was there not to like?

  Well, the fact we were both guys, obviously. There were implications to a meal like this. A guy didn’t spsh out cash like this, spend the night with a girl the day after his promotion, without certain expectations. Expectations dy might eagerly promise but which I couldn’t fulfill.

  And of course, there was the possibility that Jeff was still watg from the wings….

  I gave his hand a little squeeze and pulled away. “Why don’t you tell me about your job?”

  He looked momentarily annoyed but, given the invitation, also eager to talk about his promotion. Which he did—at length: “This is such a big step for me,” he started, “you ’t uand, dy, I’ll finally be….” And he unched into it, first about all the amazing things he’d doo get noticed, the hard work and long hours, and then he moved on to the big step up in responsibility he’d accepted, leading a team, direg the research, managing the t reports and data analysis, qualitative and quantitative colle; and the opportuo work with bigger brands, flying abroad, the adventure aement. And at no point did he pause long enough for me to get a word in edgewise, and as my attention drifted I began to wonder: did I ever talk at women like this?

  No. At least, I didn’t think so. I’d always been good at reading people, at pig up on what the other person wanted. Some girls, yeah, they don’t have much to say—especially if they’re not with you for the stilting versation. Some are nervous as hell and I’m happy to carry the versation for them until they’re ready to talk. And some chicks just don’t know when to shut up.

  But if I’d been sat opposite dy, I’d be pig up on her boredom, her frustration, her desire to get a fug word into the versation without getting cut off nored.

  Besides, smiling slightly at the memory of the few women I’d gotten to know beyond a one-night stand—I ’t imagihey’d have let me get away with this kind of bullshit.

  “Are you listening?” Dan’s voitruded, one part angry to one part pintive.

  “Of course,” I said, and smiled tiredly. “It’s just a lot to take in.” His eyes betrayed his annoyance, and so I added, “And I ’t really pretend to uand half of what you’re telling me! It all sounds terrible plicated—aing!—but a lot of work.”

  Somewhat mollified, he sat bad grinned. “Stepping stones, babe! A couple years leading a team, build up some experience, build up some tacts and then….” He made a gesture with his hands, like a rocket ship taking off, plete with whooshing sound.

  “You’ll bee an astronaut?”

  “No!” He sounded annoyed by my attempt at humour. “I’ll jump ship, go indepe, be my own boss! Work half the year as a sultant, spend the other half traveling, or just kig back, you know, and—”

  Thank God the starters arrived at that point, steaming hot shitake mushroom stuffed with real cheese and real garlid some delicate filo pastries oozing something that smelled amazing. With food in his mouth Dan couldn’t talk, and there was a moment of blessed silence.

  I picked tentatively at the food. It looked… amazing, but I found myself without much appetite. Part of it was down to the clothes I wore, the tight stri of lingerie and the ongoing disfort of sitting on my tucked away nuts all night. And part of it was residual ay: was Jeff still out there, watg this car-crash of a date?

  And finally – dear God, how I just wao get away from this guy.

  Which is why, with his mouth full of mushroom and garlic, I took the opportunity to stand up. “Ba a sec,” I told him, and fled to the dies’ room.

  Author's Notes

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