Chapter Thirteen
I met Sailo at his place and parked my car in one of the guest spots beneath his building. From there, we walked to a café a couple of blocks away.
“I’ve been here a million times,” he said as he held the door. “I think you’ll love it.”
As soon as I stepped inside, I believed him. This was one of those places Capitol Hill was known for—kind of quaint, kind of hipster, with food that smelled utterly amazing. If it was anything like the rest of this neighborhood, the food would taste incredible too.
The hostess—who was probably my daughter’s age and had at least half a dozen visible piercings—greeted us with a smile and showed us to a booth near the window.
It was hard to tell if I was just starving, or if the café’s smells were fucking with my head—all I knew was everything on the menu sounded amazing.
“So what do you recommend?” I asked.
“Anything except the duck.” He made a face. “This place can make anything, but that? No.”
“Okay, that narrows it down to about three hundred options.”
Sailo laughed. Furrowing his brow and pursing his lips, he scanned the menu. “Hmm. You vegetarian? Gluten-free? Any of that?”
“I’m not big on red meat, but otherwise, anything goes.”
“Well, I guess that rules out the steak salad.” He looked over the list again. “You a salmon fan?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You’ll love the…wait…” He turned the menu over and looked at the back, then the front again. “Aw, damn. They don’t have it anymore.”
“What?”
“The salmon filet.” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Those were to die for. But you really can’t go wrong here.”
“Aside from the duck?”
“Yes.” He nodded sharply. “Definitely aside from that. Okay, let’s see what else they have. The lemon chicken is good, pretty much anything they put hazelnuts on is good…”
As we continued looking through the options, I kept glancing at him. How weird was this? A few days ago, we were strangers. Now we were sitting in a restaurant, about to enjoy a leisurely meal together, with another night in the same bed a foregone conclusion. We’d already hooked up a few times, but this felt like an actual date. The kind people went on when they were sizing up a person for more than sex.
Too soon? The ink wasn’t even dry on my divorce papers.
Right. And there was already a man practically living in my house, so it wasn’t too soon.
But was it too soon for me? Was I ready for dating? Not just exploring this uncharted side of my sexuality, but…dating?
I looked across the table at the beautiful, tanned, black-haired man who’d been burning up the sheets with me lately. What did dating really mean? Spending more time with him. Getting to know him. More of that addictive sex.
Yeah. I was ready for this. Even if it was only sex and nothing more, I was ready. Because damn it, whether this thing was a brief rebound fling or stuck around for a while, it felt good to be with someone who was interested in being with me, in or out of the bedroom.
It sure beat the hell out of moping around at “home.”
We finally settled on our meals and closed our menus. A moment later, the waitress appeared.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
Sailo handed her his menu, looking at her with sad puppy dog eyes. “You don’t have the salmon filets anymore?”
She frowned and shook her head. “They just weren’t selling very well, so it didn’t make sense to keep them in the kitchen.”
“But…but I liked them.”
“I know.” She smiled as sweetly as she could. “That’s also why we took them off the menu.”
I snorted, and he shot me a glares. Then, sighing dramatically, he looked up at her again. “Fine. I guess I’ll settle for the beef tandoori.”
She laughed as she jotted it on her notepad. “I’ll tell the chef to half-ass it just for you.”
He put his hand to his chest. “I’m offended, Lisa. I really am.”
“No, you’re not.” She swatted him playfully with the notepad—obviously, they knew each other—and turned to me. “And for you?”
“How about the chicken bruschetta”
“Got it.” She noted it and smiled. “Anything else?”
“No, thanks,” I said.
“Not for me either.”
“Wasn’t asking you, dear.”
They exchanged glares, then laughed, and she headed back to the kitchen.
“I take it you come here often?” I said.
“How’d you guess?”
“Call it a hunch.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m here, uh, a lot. But it’s really good food, so…”
“Can’t blame you. I’m kind of looking forward to living in this neighborhood. Seems like the food up on Capitol Hill is amazing.”
“For the most part, yeah.” He rested an elbow on the table. “By the way, sorry I couldn’t meet up last night. My son had a thing at school.”
“Oh no, that’s fine. I was taking care of some shit last night anyway.” I poked at ice cubes in my drink with my straw. “I went out with some friends. And the night before, I had a nice uncomfortable evening of sorting through boxes with my ex-wife.”
Sailo grimaced. “That sounds…fun?”
“It was awkward, but…” I hesitated. “I think I feel better about things now. With my ex.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“I guess…” I thumbed the edge of the table to keep my hands busy. “I guess it really drove home that even though Becky didn’t drop the divorce hammer until recently, we’ve been done for a long time.”
He nodded slowly. “It’s funny how often that happens. A breakup seems to come out of nowhere, but when the shock wears off—”
“You realize the engine’s been knocking and the warning lights have been on for the past thousand miles?”
“Yes. Exactly.” He paused. “How have your kids taken it?”
“They’re not thrilled, but I think they’re doing okay.”
“Probably relieved, to be honest.”
I winced. “You think so?”
“Well, if there was some tension brewing there, they might’ve picked up on it. Even if you didn’t.”
“Does that make me an oblivious idiot?”
“Nah. I think stuff like that’s always harder to see when you’re on the inside. Shit, a couple of my relationships? I thought everything was going great, and then when I looked back, I thought, was I drunk the whole time?”
“Still.” I gazed out the window at people and passing cars, trying to ignore my own semitransparent reflection. “I feel like I really did miss some pretty big warnings.”
“They’re hard to see. I mean, if a plane’s engines are on fire, it’s easier to see from the outside than the inside.”
I turned to him, eyes wide. “That’s…kind of a morbid metaphor, but point taken.”
Sailo laughed. “Well, think about it. You’re in the plane, you know something’s wrong, but you don’t know what. Maybe it’s just some turbulence. Maybe it’s something worse. Can’t really tell. If you’re on the outside, you’re like”—he pointed toward the street, as if he were gesturing at an imaginary plane—“whoa, dude. The wings are one fire.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “I definitely hadn’t thought of it that way. But…I’m off the plane now. Ready to move on. And move into a place of my own finally.”
“You found one yet?”
I nodded. “I get the keys tomorrow, and next weekend I move in.” Rolling my shoulders, I exhaled. “After that, I think I’ll feel more like I’m actually moving on with my life.”
“Yeah, everything must feel really up in the air right now.”
I nodded. “Big-time.”
“Well, if you need some help moving, let me know.”
“Are you sure?” I chuckled cautiously. “That isn’t against gay dating protocols?”
He laughed. “Eh, maybe it is. But I know what a pain in the ass it is to move, and every extra pair of hands helps.”
“Yeah, true. I, uh, just don’t want to be presuming too much. About this. What we’re doing.”
Sailo smiled. “Relax. I’m offering to help you move, not asking you to move in with me.”
“Okay, fair enough.” I glanced toward the kitchen as the waitress emerged carrying two plates, but she continued past us. Facing Sailo again, I said, “Anyway, enough about my divorce.” I waved the thought away like it was a mosquito. “The sooner it’s behind me, the better. So how did you get into working as a deejay?”
His face lit up. Man, did I admire someone who was still that excited about his job. “I kind of stumbled into it. I mean, I was always into music, and one of my dad’s friends was a deejay who did weddings. He needed some help during the summer, since that’s his busy season, so I went to work for him to make some money when I was a kid.” He laughed. “Doing weddings sucks, but I really enjoyed the deejay work, so I kept at it.” Smiling broadly, he added, “Now it’s all I do.”
“What about Wilde’s? Do you enjoy working there?”
“Oh hell yeah. That place is great. I go in, have an awesome time, and they cut me a check for a lot more than I’d charge for a freelance gig. I can’t complain.” He glanced toward the waitress, but again, she was taking plates elsewhere. “The people I work with are great too. The bartenders are a riot. So…” He shrugged. “I don’t see myself giving up that gig any time soon.”
“I don’t blame you. Sounds like a fantastic job, especially if you still enjoy it after all this time. And you get paid well.”
“Yeah.” Some bitterness crept into his tone. “Tell that to my parents.”
“What? I thought your dad helped you get into this business?”
“He did, but he didn’t think it would be a permanent thing.” He rolled his eyes. “Basically, my parents insist that especially now that I have a kid, I should be looking for more stable work.” He quirked his lips. “Pretty sure they mean ‘more respectable.’”
“I think respectable is seriously overrated. There is absolutely something to be said for spending your life doing something you enjoy.”
“Right? And I do love it. Especially now that Mika, my son…he wants to learn how to deejay.” Sailo beamed proudly. “Every time I’m packing up for a wedding or something, he asks to come along.”
“You haven’t brought him?”
“Not yet. He’s not quite old enough. I’m teaching him at home, though. I’ve got an old turntable I don’t use anymore, so I let him practice on that.”
“Yeah? So you think he wants to deejay, or is he into music in general?”
“Hard to tell when he’s this young, but he does seem to have some pretty strong musical aptitude. So his mothers and I, we figured in a year or so, we’ll let him pick a basic instrument and take some lessons.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to put any pressure on him, but he’s interested and seems to have some natural talent, so as long as he’s enjoying it…”
“Good idea. By the way, I think I still have my son’s trumpet and my daughter’s clarinet. If he’s interested in either of those, I can check. He’s welcome to use them, since they certainly aren’t.”
Sailo nodded, smiling. “Thanks. I’ll definitely keep that in mind. Were they into music?”
“They did band when they were in elementary school. They enjoyed it for a while, but they kind of lost interest. My youngest was the more musically inclined one. He started playing guitar in junior high and never stopped.”
“That’s great. Electric? Acoustic?”
“Whatever he can get his hands on. He’s been in a few bands over the years. He says himself he doesn’t think any of them will ever go anywhere, but he enjoys it.”
“That’s good. Very good.”
Our waitress emerged from the kitchen again, and this time, she came right to our table.
“Here’s the chicken bruschetta.” She laid the plate in front of me.
“Oh wow,” I said as I put my napkin in my lap. “That looks and smells awesome.”
“Enjoy!” The waitress put Sailo’s plate down too. “And the beef tandoori. Half-assed, of course.”
“Of course.” They exchanged playful glares, then she patted his arm and left us to our meals.
As I cut off a piece of chicken, I said, “So, you mentioned you got your tattoo while you were in college. What were you studying?”
“Business management, if you can believe it.”
“Really?”
He nodded and took a bite of his beef tandoori.
“Decided it wasn’t for you?”
“Mmhmm.” He took a quick sip of his drink. “I’d rather work weddings every day than spend forty hours a week in a cubicle.”
“Oh, I can’t argue with that.” I took a bite and nearly had to groan as the mix of savory flavors met my tongue. “You weren’t kidding. This is great!”
“Told you.” He winked, and skewered another piece of meat on his fork. “Just wait till you try Brew-Ha, down in Fremont?”
“Oh really? Better than this?”
“Better than anything you’ve ever tasted.”
“Well, now you have my curiosity…”
* * * * *
After a lovely meal, and lingering until the waitress was starting to give us a less good-natured side-eye, we paid the check and walked back to where I’d parked.
“That was really nice,” I said. “Thanks for introducing me to that place.”
“Any time.” He smiled, looking almost shy, which was strange—and insanely cute—on him. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again. You know, just going out.”
“Yeah, same here. Maybe we could try that place you told me about in Fremont.”
“Tell me when, and we will.” He put his hands on my waist and drew me closer. The shyness evaporated in favor of the devilishness that, without fail, turned my knees to liquid. “And, um, going out like this—that’s not to say I’m opposed to everything else. Because I enjoy doing that with you too.”
Goose bumps prickled beneath my shirt. “Well, as you say…tell me when, and we will.”
He laughed. “Pity we can’t tonight.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’ll see you soon, though,” he whispered, and drew me in for a long, light kiss.
“Yeah,” I murmured against his lips. “See you soon.”
* * * * *
In a daze, I drove back to Ethan and Rhett’s. They were watching a movie on the couch, so I said a quick hello and then slipped into my room.
Hands laced behind my head, I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. Eventually, I’d get undressed, brush my teeth, and get ready to turn in, but for now, I needed a moment. And I wasn’t sure I could concentrate on anything anyway. Not when my mind was all wrapped up in the evening I’d just had.
We hadn’t even done anything physical beyond a couple of long kisses before parting ways for the night, but still. Spending the evening together, talking, enjoying the best meal I’d had in ages…
Smiling, I closed my eyes and sighed. What wasn’t to love about this? And the best part was realizing that if nights like this still existed on this side of my divorce, then there was definitely hope.
My life wasn’t over after all. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was just getting started.