Page 16 of Love Is an Art
“Did he frame them?”
“Yes, but he did such a crap job, they had to be reframed.” I sigh. “Anyway, so because Scammer Guy was in earshot, I said I was an artist. And then we were discussing other stuff. And I was about to tell Zeke the truth when he said he hates lawyers.”
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
Lakshmi leans her elbow on my desk and rests her chin in her hand. “That’s not good. What are you doing to do?”
I lean forward over my desk, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know. I have to tell him I’m a lawyer, obviously—but in person so I can gauge his reaction. The problem is that we saw him talking to Scammer Guy, so I have to figure out first if Zeke’s somehow connected to him. But Zeke seemed like a good guy.” But bad guys are supposed to seem like good guys. “Anyway, I read your memo last night. You need more case support in sections four and five. I’ll email my comments to you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your feedback,” she says. “And especially because I know how busy you are.”
My cell phone rings. Capital Management. But not Brooke’s number. I pick it up.
“Hey, it’s Zeke. I thought I better call, in case you were worried about whether I got home safely.”
I laugh.He’s calling the next day!
Bold. No “wait at least two days” games here.
I motion to Lakshmi that it’s him, pointing at his picture on my screen.
“I respect that you’re giving me a hard time for taking the cab and not sharing,” I say. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No worries. There was another cab right behind. But I couldn’tnotgive you some flak about it.” His deep chuckle does things to my stomach. “Are you free for a date on Thursday?”
I can’t go out on a date yet. Not while I’m working on this litigation. And not while he thinks dating an artist is all fun and games and dating a lawyer is some sort of purgatory. I spin my chair around to face the window, my back to Lakshmi.
“I can’t. I have to work.” That sounds too vague.Embellish.“I’m bartending that night.” I do sometimes pick up Miranda’s bartending shifts when she has a deadline and my schedule is free. It’s oddly relaxing. It’s like being at a party but with no pressure to make small talk.
“Any other days you’re free?”
“My schedule is crazy right now.” I wish I could go out on a date with him. The guy in the window across the street is packing up his stuff to go home. He turns off the light. Most of the rooms in that office building are now dark. They must look at ours blazing away at all hours and congratulate themselves for not being lawyers at White & Gilman.
“Where are you bartending? I can keep you company.” His voice is deep and confident.
“You’d be way too distracting.”
“Distracting?”
“Yes,” I say.
“And here I was beginning to think you weren’t interested. Especially after the way you left last night.”
He is up front. I like that.Ironic if my appeal is I’m not falling over myself for him. With my law firm schedule, this playing-hard-to-get thing could be easy for me.
“Is that a new feeling for you?” I ask, a teasing inflection in my voice.
“Do you think it would be?”
“Possibly.” I can’t help smiling. “Anyway, I’m definitely interested. Just busy next week.” I prefer being up front as well, despite my current lie that I’m an artist.
“Shall I leave the ball in your court, then?” he asks. “You have my number now. If you free up and you’d like to hang out, call me.”
“Let me see what I can do about my schedule. I would like to see you. I’m just swamped right now.” Piles of paper tower on my credenza in front of the window. And this weekend is going to be a crash course in housing law.
“Okay,” he says.
