I sat down at my computer and started to work, mulling over the designs I’d made for the operating system and testing code out. The track playing on the record was “New Blues Up and Down,” a frenetic and fast-paced jazz that seemed to perfectly match what was going on in my head at that moment. I zoned out, the music fading away to the background until I wasn’t paying attention to it at all.
My whiskey sat untouched in its glass. I only realized I’d been working for several hours when the orange glare of the setting sun flashed into my eyes. I looked up, bewildered, and then went to pull the needle off the silent, crackling record. I went back to my desk and stared at the work I’d done.
“Fuck, this is garbage,” I muttered to myself, scrolling through the code. “What the fuck was I thinking?” Inelegant. Boring. Useless. Unoriginal. This still just seemed like a clone of BluTech’s current phone OS. I groaned and fell into my chair. What the hell was I doing? I looked at my phone. Christ. Five hours of working, and this was what I had to show for it?
This was how it’d been for a while now, and nothing seemed to be helping. The least I could do was stick to my routine, stick to my guns, and trust that I hadn’t lost whatever talent I once believed I’d had.
Life is good. Look around.
I looked. I lived in an awesome penthouse loft downtown. My bank account still had two commas in it. I had everything I could possibly want to buy. So why did I feel so empty? Why did I feel like I had nothing, and that this was all going to come crashing down any second?
Five hours of working, and no progress made.
Five hours.
“Fuck!”
I shot out of my chair and ran to the bathroom. It was fifteen minutes past five. I gargled some mouthwash before shooting Kendra a text message.
> Melany: I’m on my way right now. Got caught up in work, so sorry about that. If you’ve already left, I understand.
A text arrived back nearly immediately.
> Kendra: No problem.
I cursed under my breath. Well, so much for making a good impression.
I grabbed my keys and bounced into the elevator down to the parking garage. I could’ve walked, but I wasn’t going to waste any time.
Kendra was waiting for me right by the spot where we’d first met. She wore a black leather jacket over an olive, military style button-up, and ripped jean shorts with combat boots. Androgynous and hot as fuck. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and she wore a stoic expression on her face. Kendra had dark brown eyes, and I hadn’t noticed just how deep they were. Not the color, but the feeling in them, like they were focused on some far-off dimension, deep in her thoughts. It was incredibly sexy. Such a musician. She snapped out of her distraction when I walked up, and a faint smile flicked over her lips.
“Sorry again,” I said. “I got caught up with my work.”
“No worries,” she said. “Now I won’t feel so bad about you buying dinner.”
I laughed, and touched my hand to the small of her back to guide her. “Come on, I know an awesome Indian place nearby.” If I wasn’t sure about a girl’s preferences, the guiding touch was one of my first tests to get an idea of whether she was receptive to being with another woman.
Typically, I could feel the energy change with a straight woman, though sometimes it could be difficult to tell. Usually she’d keep some distance, and sometimes, on rare occasion, she might actually get angry and defensive. It was always good to know those types early, so I wouldn’t waste my time. Girls like that had no value to me, no matter how interesting they might’ve been. If I did detect any discomfort, I wouldn’t move on to my phase two, which was increased physical interaction. A touch on the arm here, a lingering touch on the waist. Nothing that could be mistaken as just friendly. Third phase was deep eye contact, and that usually sealed the deal. Either they were in or out at that point, and I could always tell.
Normally I didn’t care so much one way or the other if phase one failed. If it turned out the girl was straight, we’d usually have a good time out anyway, and I’d end up with a new friend. Right now, though, I actually felt a little nervous. I anticipated her reaction, silently hoping that she wouldn’t pull away. And she didn’t.
I snuck a glance at her face to read her expression. She was looking straight ahead, and didn’t seem to even acknowledge t
hat I’d touched her in a sensitive area. Orientation verdict? Still unknown. Too early to tell. She obviously had a lot on her mind, and I was curious to find out what.
“Have you ever been to Malabar before?” I asked, holding the door open for her.
“Never,” she said. “It’s a little pricier than what I’d normally eat, which is instant ramen and a boiled egg.” She smiled sheepishly. “How’s your, uh—” She gave a little nod towards my chest.
“It looks like I have a bowling ball on my chest,” I said, laughing. “It’s all black, now. No, it’s fine, really.”
“I still feel terrible about that. I mean, what if the stick had hit some kid in the eye? I need to pay more attention to what I’m doing next time.”
“Drumming on stones and stuff isn’t like drumming on drums, I’d imagine,” I said. We walked up to the host’s stand. “Table for two, please. Outer balcony, if you have room.”
“Certainly, miss,” the host said. “Please follow me.”
Malabar’s outer balcony had an incredible view over the water, and the twinkling string lights that crisscrossed all along the patio’s canopy gave it an incredibly romantic feel. It was probably my top spot to woo.