Page 37 of Minus

I was so hellbent on making a good impression tonight, I’d even worn a jacket and tie. Of course, I hadn’t packed any nice clothes, not that I had many in my wardrobeanyway, so I had to hit a store, with minutes left to change before we were set to meet. I felt like I was back in my Catholic school uniform. Fortunately, I didn’t have to stand there squirming in my new duds for long, as Cricket’s Uber car pulled up minutes after I’d walked down to the hotel’s front entrance.

Cricket got out of the car, thanked her driver, and in a very business-like tone said, “Thank you for meeting with me, Jase.”

Shit! She wore a tight, black pencil skirt, a silky white button-up blouse, and a pair of four-inch heeled, fuck me shoes. Her hair cascaded down her back in loose curls and I couldn’t help but compare her to some eighties video vixen when the wind caught those curls as she walked toward me.

All I wanted to do at that moment was to put her back in that car and tell the driver to get as far the hell away from here as possible. I could scarcely imagine why I was about to sit this intelligent, beautiful woman down and try to convince her to go along with some crazy scheme that I barely believed in. Only loyalty to my club and my president could make to me do such a dumbass thing. And as much as I was convinced that Cricket would laugh in my face, I’d resolved myself to relay Cutter’s plan as promised.

“Like I said, I really was gonna call you and apologize,” I said sheepishly. “I was kind of caught off-guard by you, and Cutter and, well, everything, and I acted like an asshole.”

“No, you didn’tactlike an asshole. Youwerean asshole,” she corrected.

“Fair enough.”

“I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that you will not behave as such tonight, but you’re on a short leash.”

“Look, if you want to bring leashes and collars into this, we can—”

“And no dirty sex jokes!”

“I’m sorry.” I smiled. “You make me nervous. You always have. Whenever you made me nervous back then, I’d always crack some stupid joke to make you blush just so youwouldn’t notice how scared I was. I guess old habits are hard to break. I promise, I’ll be a perfect gentleman from here on out.”

I made the mistake of looking directly into her eyes for just a moment too long, which was kind of like staring straight at the sun. I saw her expression soften, before she snapped back to no-nonsense mode.

“Okay, then. Apology accepted.” She extended her hand straight out, and I did my best to suppress a smile as I completed the handshake in my most business-like manner.

“So, you wanna eat here at the hotel? The food’s supposed to be good. Apparently, the head chef was runner up on Chef Battle, U.S.A.”

“As long as it’s not served from a food truck, I’m happy,” she said.

“Not down with the wholemeals on wheelstrend, huh?” I asked.

“I have no personal objection, per-se, but our office is downtown, near where the food trucks park. Unfortunately, we’re down-wind from them, so at lunch-time the combined smells waft towards our building.”

“And that doesn’t make you hungry?” I asked.

“Far from it. Imagine the combined smells of curry, barbeque, smoked salmon, falafel, fish tacos, and smeat, all blowing at you on a hot summer day.”

“What the fuck is smeat?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but they’ve got a food truck that specializes in it.”

“Well, according to Yelp, this place appears to be more of an upscale, smeat-free establishment… with proper ventilation.”

“Then, by all means, lead the way inside.”

“Good, because it looks like it could start raining at any second,” I said, as I held the door open for her.

The restaurant at the Hotel Dufrane was as beautiful as advertised. I slipped the hostess a little something for a private table, and she instructed our server to seat us at booth number three. He led us to an intimate spot, located in theback corner, and sat us down.

“Wow, Mr. Bond, I’m impressed. A tie, a private booth. What next, a ride in your Aston Martin?” Cricket teased.

“Fat Boy.”

“What?”

“Along with putting me up in this fine establishment, and paying for this dinner, Cutter has also purchased me a brand-new Harley-Davidson Fat Boy.”

“Wow, he’s really trying to wine and dine you, isn’t he?” Cricket razzed.

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