“Well, you ambushed me when I walked through the door so when would I have been able to grab a snack?” I asked. He laughed.
“We could head downstairs. Jerry could cook up whatever you want,” he said.
“I love those little dumplings he makes. The ones with the duck meat and the greens?”
“How about we switch it up tonight? I don’t think I’ve taken you out yet,” he got up, then helped me. “Wait a minute, I don’t think I’ve ever taken you out at all, ever.”
“For a rich guy you sure are cheap,” I said.
“Don’t call me that. It sounds like an insult when you do.”
“What? Cheap?”
“No, a rich guy.”
“That’s the part you’re mad about? Not the part where I called you cheap?” I asked.
“Baby, we both know that’s simply not the case,” he said smugly. I rolled my eyes and kicked him out of my room. How was it endearing in a way when he flaunted his wealth instead of annoying?
Because you like him, Brenna.
He told me to be downstairs in twenty minutes and to wear something nice. I probably wouldn’t tell him, but I was excited. The day had been a challenge from the moment that I woke up. First, I was late for work while simultaneously thinking Charlie had bailed on me after a night of sex. Then I was sexually harassed by my boss, and then Charlie, the guy who hurt and confused me this morning, gave me the third degree when I got back home. A nice dinner was the least he could do. Besides, I was starving.
Barry dropped us off at a building where we took the elevator up to the twentieth floor. We exited in a restaurant which immediately screamed ‘you couldn’t afford this in your whole life’. The cute, yet simple knee-length dress I had worn, thinking it was nice enough was far from it. The maitre’d greeted us, well, greeted Charlie with a smile and directed us to a table.
“How did we get a table here? This seems like the kind of place that’s booked out for weeks.”
“You don’t stand in queues when you’re with me, babe,” he said with a wink. I giggled, shaking my head. It was interesting seeing which version of some words he chose when he was speaking, the US or British version. I looked around. The dining room was beautifully outfitted, modern and sleek with contemporary art and sculpture. The combined net worth of the people in this restaurant alone could solve climate change. Some people cast their eyes our way, probably looking at him, not me. That was what I was telling myself so I didn’t end up breaking out in a cold sweat and needing to excuse myself.
Charlie looked totally at ease. This was his element. He wasn’t the kind who had to google a restaurant to see whether he could afford anything on the menu before he made plans to go. He was used to these circles. I was not part of this world. This was just a restaurant and I felt out of place. I wasn’t even the one paying. What about someplace else where you actually had to talk and mingle like one of those charity things he went to the other day? What then? He’d never ask me to go with him, would he?
Did I want him to? I didn’t want him to hide me away like he was ashamed of being with someone like me but then again, I didn’t really care about being seen at fancy functions. But that was what being with him meant, right? Doing this shit. He was a chameleon. He blended in completely as a lifeguard at Dana Point Beach and then changed his camouflage to suit places like this just as easily. I didn’t know how to do that.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked suddenly.
“Whether this is the kind of place where I can get some decent tacos or not,” I said, contemplating bringing up my insecurity, and then deciding not to.
“Soft or hard shell?” he asked, humoring me.
“You know the answer to that question.”
“Your tastes might have changed after seven years,” he said. The answer, of course, was soft. Double tortilla always, otherwise the ratio of filling to tortilla was off.
“So, yes or no? Will the kitchen give me tacos here if I ask them?”
“For enough money, they’ll go harvest the corn for you first,” he said. I laughed, feeling some of my anxiety lift. He could probably sense it. He knew this wasn’t my usual scene but when we were together, I could deal with it. Who knew? Maybe after enough of this, I’d be too good for the local taqueria.
No, that would never happen. I was going to thank him when a woman approached and put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. He looked up at her.
“Charles, what a pleasant surprise,” she said. I looked her up and down. She wasn’t looking at me, she hadn’t even registered my presence before she closed in on Charlie. She had brown eyes and light brown hair that looked salon fresh. She was in a dress that fell elegantly over her very slim figure. Model? She was tall enough. They knew each other, clearly. I felt something hot in the pit of my stomach.
“Elizabeth,” he said.
“I saw you walk in and I just had to come and say hi,” she said. Her hand moved from his shoulder to his bicep. Comfortable, weren’t they? My jaw worked. “Will you be at the Carlisle estate this weekend? Their Hamptons residence; Benjamin is having a party.”
“I made other plans unfortunately, so no. Send my greetings if you end up making it.” She pouted like a three year old looking at him. She looked so ridiculous that I laughed. I tried to disguise it by taking a sip of my wine. She finally looked at me. It was like all the super-rich women of New York City went to the same school where they learned to mean-mug the commoners. That look on her face had been copied and pasted right off Veronica Hampton’s.
“Brenna, this is Elizabeth Thomas, she and my mother are friends.” She didn’t look at me and say it was nice to meet me, the way good manners and convention dictated. She just looked down at Charlie with puppy dog eyes and ran her hand up and down his arm.