Page 36 of Domino
“Pestering and stalking you? Me?”
I spread my hands out in front of me, giving her the best look of innocence I that can muster. The incredulous expression on her face tells me she’s not buying it, which makes me laugh. Stopping by and hassling Ashley hadn’t been on my agenda today, but when I was rolling down Harrison and saw the Golden Gate, I just felt compelled to stop in. There’s something about her that’s compelling to me. It’s almost like she’s a drug and I kind of needed a fix this morning or something. It sounds trite, but there’s no other way for me to really explain it.
“Didn’t I already tell you that this thing, this—whatever it is you have in your head about us—is like, never going to happen?”
“You did. But you didn’t exactly sound entirely convinced yourself,” I tell her. “So, I came to give you another chance to reconsider your position.”
“Reconsider my position?”
“Yeah. Have dinner with me tonight.”
She’s wearing an expression of surprise, but there’s a faint upward curl to her lips I find encouraging. Then, she bursts into laughter.
“You really are ridiculous. You do know that, don’t you?” she asks.
“That’s not a no.”
She turns to go, rolling her eyes at me, though she continues to give me a grin that’s half amused and half annoyed.
“Hey, aren’t you going to take my order?” I ask.
She stops and turns back to me. “Country fried steak, hash browns extra crispy, two eggs over easy, sourdough toast with grape jelly, coffee, and a large orange juice.”
I nod, my smile even wider. “You remember. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be, I’ve just got a good memory. It’s why I’m good at this job.”
“Maybe so, but I still think it means something.”
“It means I’m observant. You’re a guy who relies on routine, so I figure that extends to your food choices.”
I cock my head and look at her. “And how do you figure that?”
“I noticed the way you arrange your silverware and your napkin. The way you arrange all of the things on top of the table, making sure everything is neat and orderly. Precise. You’re pretty obsessive-compulsive about it. And in my experience, people who are kind of like that tend to prefer routine in all things,” she says, giving me a slight shrug.
“What are you, a shrink?”
“I have a degree in Psychology, yes.”
Before I can say anything else, she turns and walks away, leaving me there staring after her. I look down at the tabletop and see that everything is, in fact, lined up and orderly. I guess the need for order is so strong in me that I never even notice that I do it. It’s just an involuntary reflex or something, I suppose. But I’m still kind of blown away that she noticed it after one time here.
She really is observant and had an insight about me that I never knew about myself. But then, if she’s got a degree in psych, maybe she’s trained to look for that sort of behavior or something. I don’t know. How she knows it, I’m kind of blown away by it all the same.
She comes over and drops off my coffee and orange juice at my table and starts to walk away, but I stop her. She turns around and looks at me with exasperation on her face.
“What?” she asks.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“And what question was that?”
“Dinner. You and me. Tonight,” I say.
“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“I might. But you never actually said no,” I remind her.
“You’re ridiculous.”
