CHAPTER 7
Amelia
I’ve got the lights out and the curtain cracked, as I sit back from the window just a little. I don’t want him to know I’m so excited for his arrival that I’m literally waiting by the window with bated breath. It seems childish, and that’s exactly how I don’t want this worldly man to view me.
At two minutes to nine a dark sports car pulls up. I don’t know which one it is, but it sure looks like the one Lefty Larry has on a small poster pinned to his cubicle wall. What kind of dream world am I about to enter?
He steps out of the car and pulls on his lapels, straightening his suit. Is he ever off the clock, or is this the way he dresses all the time? I don’t know, but I do know I like it. I’m looking forward to being on the arm of not just a guy like that, but him. And it doesn’t matter if it’s just for one night, and it’s not sexual. I just want to experience an elegant and luxurious lifestyle that I know nothing about.
He presses the buzzer at exactly nine. Is he ever smooth.
I count down from thirty, but throw my plan out the window at twenty-one when I jump up and move swiftly to the door.
“Good evening, Amelia. May I call you that?”
“You may,” I say.
“Thank you. Please call me Carson.”
“Okay, Carson.”
“Shall we go?”
“Yes,” I say, thankful he didn’t ask for the tour of my place.
He places his hand on the door handle on the passenger side of his car. It’s in a funny position. He starts to open the door, but it doesn’t open at all. It lifts.
The door is up in the air as he offers me his hand and helps me inside.
The seats are low, and deep, and I feel safe as the seat wraps around me so tight, but also nervous at the low position. I imagine we’re barely off the ground. Southern California is full of big, bulky SUVs and I can only imagine how traveling in this way is going to give me a whole new perspective.
He slides into the seat next to me, and turns on the engine. I’ve never heard a car growl before, until now. I can feel the power reverberate throughout the car. Having so much power in the engine makes me feel so powerful, that I blurt out, “I like your car.”
“Thank you. It was a gift.”
This was a gift? I need the same kind of friends he has, pronto.
He pulls away from the curve and I hear the light sound of something that sounds like the Gypsy Kings coming from the speakers. My head is spinning. The power of the car makes me feel powerful, and the music makes me want to channel that enthusiasm by jumping up and dancing, or at least rolling down the window and yelling, “I’m the queen of the world.” Leonardo DiCaprio’s got nothing on me right now.
He lets the music play without talking. He must be reading me like an open book, because I need the time to adjust and take everything in. A good ten minutes or so go by before he says, “Are you originally from L.A.?”
“Born or from?”
“Whichever you prefer.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Not sure which you prefer?”
He must feel like I’m messing with him…not giving him a straight answer.
“I’m not sure where I was born.”
He doesn’t flinch at my reply, and doesn’t pry. I appreciate it, but feel like his question deserves a proper reply.
“I grew up in foster homes, mostly in L.A., but no one’s really sure where I’m from. I was found at a truck stop on the way to Vegas.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks, but it’s okay. It was such a long time ago, and of course I don’t remember it. I was only a few weeks old.” I catch myself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you all this, and freak you out. It’s just that I’m a little nervous and excited…okay maybe more than a little nervous, and when that happens sometimes I talk a lot. It’s about the only time I do.”
He removes his hand from the stick shift and places it on my knee without taking his eyes off the road. “It’s okay. I hope I wasn’t prying.”
“No, not at all. It’s an innocent question.”
I like how his hand feels. It’s comforting and although I’m still a nervous wreck, it does calm me a little.
“I like that you’re honest. This town is full of fake people. An honest and open person is a breath of fresh air.”
He removes his hand and places it back on the stick shift, downshifting and dropping speed as we approach a turn.
We’re driving along Pacific Coast Highway, and I can see the full moon overhead. It’s big and powerful and reflecting off the ocean’s surface. It’s absolutely perfect.
“I bet in your line of work you deal with a lot of interesting people.”
“You have no idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“It runs the full gamut. I get the celebrities that pretend they want you to be their friend, to show they’re down to earth. I get the important and not so important people who need to feel important. And I get the everyday Jane’s and Joe’s who vary so much from one to the other. I often find them more interesting because they’re less predictable.”
Great, I think to myself sarcastically. Does he think of me as an “everyday Jane?” Am I some psychology experiment to pump and dump? Some simple girl that’s easy for the picking? I don’t like what he said.
He turns his head toward me and I turn to meet his gaze. “But I’ve never met someone like you.”
It sends butterflies to my stomach, but I’m not falling for it, at least not yet.
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re cut from the same cloth as I am, but you’re a woman.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“The highest I can give.”
“So you feel pretty good about yourself?”
“I have a high level of self-confidence and self-worth, yes.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I came from nothing, and worked my way up to where I am today. And I’ve done so all while managing to keep my personal life mostly just that…personal, and private.”
He sounds like one of those American Psycho narcissist types, but he doesn’t have that tone. He’s not fishing for compliments, or a pat on the back. Not from me or from himself.
“And where you are today defines your success?”
“No, but it allows me to do things that define success. At least in my book.”
“What are those things?”
“There are many, but they mostly center around one theme. Change.”
“Change? But if you’re successful why would you want change?”
“Because I want others to experience what I’ve experience for myself. Because I changed my own life, and I know the tremendous journey and struggle that it entails. Because I know that once you have money and influence you can then help other people change their lives as well.”
“Is that what you want to do with me? Change me?”
“I don’t want to change you one bit,” he says, turning to look at me again. The roads are winding along the coast, so he has to look back. “I’m more interested in learning if you can enact change with me.”
I’m on an emotional roller coaster. The nerves have faded and now I’m having a real conversation with this guy, but it’s nothing sexual as I expected, and if I’m honest with myself, hoped it would be.
What kind of guy talks like this on a first date? Is this even a date? And why does he seem to think so highly of me, even after my huge mistake at the office?
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” I say.
“You’re not supposed to at this point. We can save it for later. Right now let’s just enjoy each other’s company and see where that takes us.”
And just like that he’s pressed a button within me and my mind shifts to what I want this man to do to me. How I want his hands all over me. Those big hands that are gripping the stick shift and the steering wheel. Those thick, long fingers that can do things to me that other men couldn’t do with their entire bodies. Just by the way he handles this car, I can see he knows how to handle a woman. But just how many women has he handled? The paparazzi haven’t seemed to be able to dig up anything on him. How does he keep such a low profile, unlike other big names in Tinseltown? Okay, technically we’re in L.A., but the place is full of aspiring everything. Aspiring actors, athletes, writers…you name it. Seems like everybody’s trying to make it here, but not him. He’s already made it, and maybe that’s why he’s so confident…why he doesn’t waste time and why he cuts through the superficial.
I have no idea what he’s going to say or do next, and that excites me.
He pulls off Pacific Coast Highway, and takes the car down a hill. Right on cue it looks like he’s about to surprise me all over again.