Page 42 of Meet Jon, the Billionaire

I’d done my job at the racetrack all too well. Not the part about the zoning board, no. That had yet to be proven effective. The task I had overperformed turned out to be acting like I didn’t know who Jonathon really was.

I’d convinced myself of that fact. That’s how good of an actress I was, apparently. So when he turned down my offer for a nightcap, I felt a huge swell of disappointment. Not the least of which was that I would have an empty bed instead of a warm Jonathon to look forward to.

As I watched his taillights fade, however, I came to my senses. We weren't really dating, not anymore. Now it was two enemies scouting out information on each other, waiting for the chance to strike. Only, he still thought I was fooled. I actually held the advantage on Mr. Billionaire, go figure. How long that would last was anyone’s guess at that point.

And yet, I had to admit, I really loved spending time with Jonathon. A lot. I never thought a day at the racetrack with some rookie noob bettor would be so much fun. Jonathon made it okay for me to be my goofy self. Most guys would stare at me when I did an impersonation like that, or laugh nervously. Sometimes they’d even get mad, because my acting that way wasn’t perceived as ‘feminine’ enough for them.

Jonathon didn’t mind. Hell, he seemed to love my sense of humor, my goofy side, and my propensity for throwing myself into situations like Don Quixote tilting at windmills.

I was starting to feel as if I were in fact tilting at windmills. Certainly, I could picture Acme Bread as a great giant swinging a club.

I headed upstairs to my apartment and appeased queen Tickled Pink. Her pink eyes watched me as I moved about the apartment. I stopped to stare at her.

“What, are you making fun of me for coming home alone?” I put my hands on my hips. “It’s not as easy as you think, finding a good man. I mean, sure, Jonathon is funny, handsome, and successful, and sexy…”

I cleared my throat as I recalled seeing a lap full of his hair in the back of the limo.

“Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes. It’s hard for us human females to attract a mate. You cats just go into heat and they all come knocking, right?”

Pink’s eyes slowly closed, and she went back to eating.

“You know, that’s a good example, Pink.” I rubbed my belly. “Never did get my taco.”

Jonathon had insisted on splitting his winnings from the all-in bet on Genghis Bob, even though I picked more losers than winners. I decided to put my ill-gotten gains to good use and ordered tacos. I texted my aunt to see if she maybe wanted to have tacos, too, but she didn't answer. I figured she was already asleep or at her friend Loretta’s playing five-card stud.

I ordered tacos, and some queso and dip besides. The problem with working at a bakery is that you get to a point where you crave something besides sweet stuff. This is a problem when just about every drink offered is loaded with sugar or a sugar substitute. On the other hand, I happened to love horchata. I wound up sipping a huge cup of the cinnamon-flavored rice water along with some super spicy tacos.

While I ate, I played over the second date with Jonathon in my mind. He seemed to be holding something back, too. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. I wondered if maybe he was toying with the idea of telling me who he really was, as in the CEO of Acme Bread.

Then again, that could have been wishful thinking on my part and I knew it. I felt all prickly on the inside. Like, I felt warm, too, when I thought about Jonathon, but he put me into a state of nearly constant turmoil. I wanted him close so I could kiss him—but also so I could shake the shit out of him. ‘What the fuck are you doing? What is this to you? A crazy game or are you really interested in me?’

I realized I was pantomiming out loud, so to speak, when tickled Pink jumped up on the back of the sofa to meow quizzically at me.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just that this guy is driving me apeshit.”

“Meow,” she said.

“Yeah, I get it. I should just go ahead and come clean. Be like ‘I know who you are, you yo-yo. Let’s stop fucking around and get real.’ But if I do that, then I give up any possible advantage I have over Acme Bread winning the bid for that corner lot.”

I felt a flash of anger, and stood up to start pacing.

“You know, the hell with him anyway,” I snapped. “He’s richer than God. He could have any other corner lot anywhere else in the world, but he wants this one. Jerk.”

I kicked a throw pillow which had been dislodged in my sudden stand across the room. “It’s not fair. Of all the people in the world I have to meet and actually like, it turns out to be the exact guy I’m in competition with.”

I lifted my head to the skies, as if I were addressing the Almighty. “I don’t know what you're planning here, but maybe you could give me a clue? Because right now, it sure feels like you’re messing with me, hardcore.”

I sighed and settled back onto the couch. What was that old saying about arguing with God? You might as well be arguing with yourself?

Well, I was arguing with myself. It was a complicated situation. How often do you hit it off with someone, especially someone who isn’t already taken? How likely is it really that that same person is also going to be your arch-nemesis? I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, but I think I wasn’t really mad at Jonathan at all. I was mad at myself. Why? For the unpardonable sin, the unmitigated gall, to actually enjoy myself at the racetrack. With Jonathon.

“Fuck.” I plopped down on the sofa, scaring the cat into jumping onto the nearby end table. I caught a glass deftly before it could fall on the floor, then sat back and idly toyed with it. “I think I really like this guy, Pink. What am I supposed to do? I can’t give up on getting that corner lot just because of what I want. That’s just selfish… isn’t it?”

“Meow?” She said from the end table before settling onto her haunches and licking her paw.

“Yeah, right, I could probably use a bath, too.”

I went into the bathroom and started the water. I yelped at the sight of a tiny spider who crawled under the shower curtain. The idea of it just being ‘there’ bothered me, so I lifted up the curtain and made a big production of finding it. I was not successful.

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