He looks down at the paper cup in front of him that’s half-filled with coffee. “Who is Chloe?”
“Chloe is Jane.”
That draws his gaze up to my face. He’s clean-shaven, black-haired and his eyes have been called everything from piercing to intense. I’d call them green, but the women who have hit us up when we’re grabbing a beer often say they get lost in them. All I’m seeing in them right now is curiosity.
“You finally got her name out of her?”
I don’t dive into the details of how I spend the early part of my day. I’m still riding the high of my rendezvous with Chloe.
I pushed her to give me her number once we were back in the hotel lobby, but she held firm. She’s wounded. I see it when I look at her. Some idiot fucked her over and made her wary of every other human being with a dick.
After we’d played a back-and-forth game about whether she’d give me her number, I dropped it, kissed her and told her to keep getting her coffee at Roasting Point. My schedule is jam-packed for the next three mornings, but I’ll get back there to see her as soon as I can.
“I got her first name,” I confess. “It’s a start.”
“You like this woman, don’t you?” He tips the coffee cup toward me before he takes a mouthful.
I shrug. “I do. I don’t know what it is about her, but I like being around her.”
“Have you two been hanging out? I didn’t think your work would leave you time for a mistress.”
That old fucked up joke about me being married to my work started the day I graduated from med school. When we met years before on a college campus, we hit it off even though I was knee deep in my studies and he was coasting through business school.
Now, he runs a boutique financial services company.
Jack keeps people’s finances fit, and I keep their bodies healthy.
“I’ve seen her a couple of times now.” I nod. “We both go to the same coffee shop.”
He looks around the crowded hospital cafeteria. “I thought you got your coffee here. You seem fond of this particular blend of swamp water.”
I laugh. “It’s not that bad, Jack. I don’t meet Chloe here. It’s at a Roasting Point Café uptown.”
“She has excellent taste.” He pushes back from the table. “I came down here to see if you were still alive and kicking. You could answer your phone sometime.”
I stand because I know he’s got a meeting three blocks away in ten minutes. He told me as much when I finally answered his call an hour ago while I was between patients.
“We’ll get together for a beer when I get a night off.” I round the table to hug him. “You’ve fallen a notch or two on my priority list, Jack. Don’t take offense, but you’re not as pretty as Chloe.”
He pats me on the back as we break the embrace. “I worry about you. I have to say I’m glad you finally have your eye on something other than your career. Maybe I can meet Chloe sometime?”
Considering the fact that I don’t know her phone number, her surname or where she works, I doubt like hell I’ll be setting up a meet-and-greet with her and my best friend anytime soon.
“I don’t want to scare her away.” I step back. “I’m letting Chloe set the pace on this, so I’ll take it as slow as she needs me to.”
“You’re smarter than you look.” Jack buttons his suit jacket.
“Fuck you too, Pearce. Fuck you too.” I wave a hand as I walk away.
***
I step into my apartment after midnight. It’s cold, so damn cold because I turned the heat down when I left this morning. I see no reason to pay to heat this space when I’m not in it.
I toss my coat on the back of my worn leather sofa and walk toward the radiator. I live in a pre-war building. In this city that can mean one of two things; the first is that you’re paying too much rent on a space that someone has invested a lot of money in to fix up.
In my case, it means that a shitty landlord did bare minimum repairs before he rented the apartments out for a little less than premium.
The building is what it is. I knew that when I moved in. I’d rather sacrifice luxury for less debt and a savings account. I’m comfortable here. It provides me a place to come to where I can be at peace.