Page 13 of The Sky in Summer
Remodeling grand-mere’s home has proven to be even more complicated than I anticipated. Especially since it is in Paris, and I am in Montana. The fact I am fluent in French has come in handy many times over the course of my career. In life really. Now it has taken me in a new direction. Thanks, Dad.
Ricardo’s Mexican Restaurant announces itself in bold black letters edged in deep red, above the double doors. I pocket the valet ticket and adjust my collar. Zipper up, cuffs even. Wearing an expensive suit and a tailored white shirt is a comfortable uniform in my world. Besides, coming from an important showing, I didn’t have a choice. She will be dressed up a little too, I’m thinking. Dressed to impress. No matter the denial of interest, the real story will show in her wardrobe today. This is the first time it will be planned. Up to now, I have only seen her in beach cover-up, shorts, or yoga pants. This will tell the real story of how much she wants me. Effort equals desire. How sexy will the outfit be? Heels, I hope.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lyon,” the hostess says as I approach.
“It is a good one, isn’t it Jeannie?”
“Your table is ready. And your party has arrived.”
“Oh. Good. I know the way,” I say, heading back to the private alcove tucked against the far wall. So she got here early. The twenty minutes I gave myself to settle in, make a few calls and order appetizers is now blown. Oh well. I can’t fault her for a lack of enthusiasm. First positive sign.
Walking up to the table, I notice a leg sticks out. Jeans and tennis shoes. What’s next, a generic high-necked t-shirt? Yep, that’s exactly what’s next.
“Hi!” she says with a sunny smile.
“Hi there. I see you started without me.” I slide across from her, into the booth.
There are chips and salsa on the table. Guacamole. A large soda. She gestures to the choices made.
“I hope that’s okay. It’s about the time crunch I’m in. Sorry. The boys game time changed. They need to be at the field an hour earlier than planned. I saved us time by ordering appetizers.”
The news sucks. Why do I give a damn? It isn’t like my prom date stood me up. And clearly, she does not give two shits. This whole friends crap may be real.
“No problem. Did you order my entrée too? Or are we even having lunch?”
Shit. Didn’t want to sound disturbed or shrill like an angry old man. By the look on her face, that’s how it came across.
“I’m really sorry, Van. This is the reality of life as a parent. Just when you think you’ve carved out a little time for yourself, it’s snatched away. I’ve learned to roll with it, and my friends learn to accept it.”
How am I supposed to argue that point without sounding like a big dick? I grab a chip and a big scoop of guacamole with onions. Hell with it. I hope it gives me bad breath.
Layla smiles and tilts her head. “We have time for lunch. A quick one. But I was thinking…”
“What were you thinking? How can I frustrate Van again?”
Surprisingly she laughs. Okay. Her face is really cute. And the laugh? I like it because I sense something behind the gesture. A hidden message that says having an effect on my frustration pleases her. Or could be I am fantasizing a different story to feel like I am not being rejected.
“You have a choice,” she says, crunching a tortilla chip. “We can eat a hurried meal,orhave a few appetizers, a soda, and cut this date…excuse me, lunch, short. Then we can schedule a meal for this weekend. With margaritas.”
My eyebrow raises in interest. Hey now!
“The boys are going to be with their father and you and I can focus our full attention on each other. I will even make dinner for us. What do you think?”
The whole picture just did a one eighty. And, she said the word date. I heard it. Brilliant girl.
“I choose the second door,” I say before she has a chance for a change of mind.
“And please, come casual. You probably need a break from dressing like this.”
“Don’t you like this?” I say, surprised at her take.
“Who wouldn’t? You look very nice.”
Nice seems lukewarm, but it’s said so genuinely I’ll take it.
“I just feel bad, because you consistently look better than me.”
“That isn’t true. But per your instructions I will be in shorts and a t-shirt. As ordered by the bossy girl eating chips.”
