Nine
Archer
The week went by slowly. I kept second guessing myself, thinking that I was making a mistake in calling Zoe, but every time I pulled out my phone to call her, I thought about the first time I saw her leaning against the bar. I felt like I could identify with her right away. That’s what made her so dangerous. It wasn’t just a physical infatuation. It was the way she moved, the way she talked. Everything about her screamed discipline, hard work, and that aching need to succeed.
She’d given me a taste, and now, I needed more. I couldn’t control myself. I spent more time thinking about her than I did working. Messages piled up for two days straight, and all I could do was stare into space imagining what it would be like to move inside her, to touch her, and to bring her to that point where nothing else mattered but that feeling. The look on her face would be reward enough.
This was too big of a risk. It was wrong. Maybe that’s what made it so exciting. I’d been pent up in my office so long that I was starting to act out. It made sense, considering my rigid lifestyle. This could be one of my biggest mistakes ever.
But that didn’t stop me. More than once I thought of calling her, just to hear her voice and exchange a few words, or maybe stay up all night like two hormone-crazed teenagers who couldn’t get off the phone, but I knew that she probably wouldn’t have time to talk.
I was lying in bed early Saturday morning when I heard Abel crying. I knew it was him because he was usually the first one to go off, but his brother joined in right away. Together, they filled my room with their terrible howling as I reached into the mini-fridge to pull out their bottles. I checked the clock before I left the room. It was six. Finally, two days of sleep in a row.
The boys were a lot easier when they were hungry. I sat them down side by side in their swings and took a seat in between them so I could feed them both at the same time. After a few minutes, they both started to get drowsy and fell back asleep. I actually did it, and on the first try, too. I felt like dancing.
Saturday was usually when I could spend all day with the boys. I would get them dressed and take them out somewhere. I wanted them to experience things as early as possible so they could get used to the world. But this Saturday was different. I’d been so distracted this week, work had turned into a nightmare. So, instead of bonding with my sons today, I was stuck in my home office trying to focus.
It wasn’t easy. Every time I looked down at my computer, I saw myself walking up to Zoe. She’d be smiling, glad to see me. She’d wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me. We’d lay in bed together for hours, talking about the things we wanted to do and how we wanted to make our lives better.
We’d probably only have the one night, and it wouldn’t be enough. But maybe it was better that way. I was an independent man. A woman would probably just hold me down. She’d invade my space and try to start telling me what to do, and I’d just end up getting tired of her.
By six o’clock, I was holding my head in my hands, so worried I nearly forgot all of the paperwork I needed to go through. What was wrong with me? I barely knew this girl, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It’d been a long time. Maybe this was me projecting my desire onto her.
I didn’t know much about her other than the fact that she owned a bakery and that she seemed to be a hard worker, but even that was enough to lure me in. I kept thinking about how uncomfortable she seemed when I first saw her. Maybe she wasn’t happy. Maybe her life was terrible, and I was talking to the wrong woman. That would’ve been easier. At least then I could stop thinking about her.
Mona called at six-thirty. “How are the boys?” she asked.
“They’re fine. They’re playing in their cribs.”
“Have they been fussy? Did they wake you up last night?”
“No, they’re fine. They’re a little tired though. Maybe when you get here, you could give them dinner. That way they can fall asleep in the car.”
“You never fail to surprise me. Where did you come up with a genius idea like that?”
“Months of grueling torture and hard labor.”
“That sounds about right. I’m pulling up now.”
“I’ll see you in a minute.” I got up out of my chair, still dazed from having sat there for so long. Mona meant the world to me. She made it possible for me to be a single father and still run a successful business, and that was a blessing.
I met her at the top of the stairs when she came in. “What are you wearing?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at my gray t-shirt and old jeans.
“I don’t know.” We walked back into my room. “What should I wear?”
“Something casual. The first date is all about trying to prove you’re not a psycho. The worst thing you could do is show up in a dress shirt. She’ll think you’re too into her.”
“What about this?” I pulled out a tight gray sweater. It was a gift from Cara.
“No, it’s knitted. It doesn’t look right.” She walked up to the closet and started pushing hangers aside, moving from one shirt to the next. Then she stopped. “This one.” She held it out for me to see.
It was a simple black v-neck. “It’s too small.”
“That’s the point. You’re built like a gorilla. Show it off.” Having an octogenarian tell me that was kind of awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice. She moved onto my jeans. “Something tight, but not too tight. You don’t want to give everything away on your first night.”
“That’s a generational thing.”
“No, it’s a moral thing, but you still don’t want to look like an idiot.” She handed me a navy-blue pair of fade-wash jeans. “Go try those on. I wanna see how it looks.”
“Okay.” I felt like she was my mother. She acted like it, or at least, I think she did. I never met my mother when I was growing up, but I imagined she’d be just like Mona.
“What do you think?” I asked when I walked out.
“Turn around and lift your shirt.”
“What? Why do you want me to do that?”
She walked around behind me and lifted my shirt up. “That works.”
“Are you sure my butt looks good? You don’t wanna take another look?”
She walked around to face me. “Now you listen to me.” She pointed a finger at me. “You treat that girl like there’s nobody else in this world that matters, and don’t you dare hurt her, or I will kill you myself. You understand me?” I nodded my head. “Good.” She reached up and gave me a hug. “Now, where are you taking her?”
“Francisco’s.”
“That hole in the wall? No, it’s got to be something nice, but not too nice. You don’t want her to think you’re about to give her a ring or something.”
“What about Murphy’s?”
“That’s better, and don’t eat too much. Use your manners. You might not notice it at the time, but if that girl has any sense, she’ll watching everything you do.”
“She was when I met her, and she’s coy about it, too.”
“Good, that means she’s immune to your bullshit.”
“Mona…”
“You know I’m just joking.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She left so I could get ready.
I was so nervous. I know that it didn’t make any sense. We’d basically agreed to fuck at this point, but for some reason, I kept worrying about what she’d think about me.
My impermeable confidence seemed to melt away when I got into the car. I was so sure that Zoe wanted me. She did want me, but at this point, there was nothing I could do to ease my anxiety. I just had to push through and hope that things went okay.
Zoe lived in a corporate owned apartment complex on the north side. It was a decent place, but it was small. I couldn’t imagine somebody as wonderful as her living in a place the size of my living room. She deserved a palace as majestic as the Taj Mahal, not a cockroach-ridden closet.
I parked in the back lot and turned off the car so I could find my bearings. I couldn’t walk up there looking like an adolescent boy who just figured out he liked girls. I had to be confident, cool, and calm. That woman could probably smell weakness, and I wasn’t about to let her see me unless I was at my best.
A quick spritz of breath spray and a look in the mirror, and I was ready to go. She lived on the other side of the back building in a one bedroom on the first floor, where she had a small collection of potted plants sitting next to her door. They were all herbs. She must’ve been growing them for her cooking.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Just a second.” She sounded frazzled like she was rushing around the apartment. When she did open the door, there was flash, like we’d both seen something shocking, and we both went quiet.
She was wearing a pair of jeans and a purple shirt that hugged her curves so tight I nearly dragged her back into the bedroom.
“Hey,” she said finally.
“Hi.” We started walking back to the car together.
“So, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” I said.
“I don’t like surprises.”
If she didn’t like them, then I wasn’t going to give them to her. “It’s a restaurant called Murphy’s Downtown.”
“I love that place. They have the best scampi.”
“And their meatball marinara.”
“Like it was shipped in from an Italian kitchen.”
I nearly laughed, but I just didn’t have the energy. I was putting up a good front, but inside I was ready to explode. Was she watching me? I took a peek out of the corner of my eye. No, she was staring straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to be so quiet.”
“I don’t mind.” I started the car and put it in reverse.
“So, this has been killing me all week. Obviously, you’re not a millionaire, not with a house that big. You have to have more than that. I don’t mean to scrutinize, but…”
“But what?”
“It’s just—you never told me what you did for a living.”
“Does it matter?”
“You said it was worse than a drug dealer, and you don’t want to tell me what you do, which means you probably work for the government or the mafia.”
“Technically.”
“Technically, what?”
“Look.” I pointed out the window to my right where the airplane graveyard was sitting in the waning light.
“You’re a pilot? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I built a company that designs aeronautical equipment.”
“That’s crazy. How did you manage that?”
“I started out as a mechanic and worked my butt off. Then, the right people started noticing.”
“You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?”
“I couldn’t be anything but. It’s a part of who I am.”
“I feel the same way,” she said.
We got off at the downtown exit and parked the car in a lot across the street. When we walked in, the hostess was staring down at her phone. As soon as she saw me, her eyes went wide. She jumped up and took us straight to my booth in the back room. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”
“Wine?” I asked Zoe.
“Fine by me. I’ll have a water, too.”
“We’ll get a bottle of merlot,” I told the hostess.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’ll be back with your drinks, then.”
Zoe was looking around the room. It was dark with burgundy walls and lamps in the corner. I watched her, not even trying to hide my interest. There was no point. “I have a question.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“What is the one thing you love more than anything else?”
“Baking.” She didn’t even hesitate.
“Why?”
“Because I love to cook, and baking allows me to be creative. What about you? What do you love?”
My boys. “Flying.”
“You can fly?”
“When I have a free moment. It’s been years though.”
“Too much work?”
“It seems like it only gets worse with time.”
“I am thoroughly convinced of that.” The waitress came and took our orders. We both got the scampi.
When the waitress left, I found myself sitting in an awkward silence, tense and unsure of what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to click. We were supposed to fuck and part ways, not get entangled in some demented mess of emotions and insecurities. Maybe I was jumping ahead. She probably just didn’t know what to say, but neither did I.
To my relief, it didn’t take long for the waitress to walk back over with the wine. “Here ya go.” She popped open the bottle and poured our glasses. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, I think we’re fine,” Zoe said. When the waitress walked out, Zoe turned to me. “So, you’re not in the mafia, and you’re not working for a bunch of corrupt pigs in Washington.”
“Nope.”
“Then what’s the catch?”
I had two screaming infants living with me. “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “That’s for you to figure out.”
But that took time and effort, and it didn’t seem to me like she was willing to put up with all of that. She wanted to know for certain that I was the right one. I couldn’t give her that certainty. I couldn’t even bring myself to accept that this night wasn’t a huge mistake.
She seemed to shrink down into herself. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t ever have to apologize to me.”
“It’s just that I haven’t done this in a long time, and I’m not the kind of person who eases her way into things. I don’t play games or wonder what’s going to happen. I study, and I plan.”
“I do the same thing.” I took a sip of my wine. “But there’s always something that gets in the way, some demented surprise or disaster that ruins everything.”
“I worry about the unexpected all the time. But it’s different for me than it is for you.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Your life is stable. You’re already successful. You’ve made your money. I’m just getting started. I’ve got at least six hours a day when nobody comes into my shop. And we’ve been burning through our food shipments so fast, I can barely keep up.”
“Wealth is never stable,” I said. “My well-being is tied to the company, just like yours is. I lose money every time the stock goes down. One bad day, one failed project, and I’d lose everything.”
“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that.” She took a sip of wine. “That doesn’t sound very stable, at all.”
“It’s not. I used to get these nightmares where I’d wake up and find out the stock market crashed.”
She shook her head and took a sip of her drink. Then a smile curved her lips. “We’re a lot more alike than I thought we’d be.”
“We are.” I picked up my glass and took a swig. I didn’t want to let her think we had a chance. We’d both end up getting hurt. Besides, I wasn’t ready for anything serious. I’d just lost my girlfriend, the mother of my children—I was struggling to hold my life together. Adding another person into the equation would just complicate things.
She smiled, swirled her drink, and downed the rest. “You were in the military, weren’t you?”
“The Army. How did you know?”
“It’s all over you, the brutish charm, the haircut, the way you sit with your back straight.”
“Brutish charm?” I laughed.
“Not brutish. I don’t know what to call it.”
“Manliness,” I said.
“It’s more than that. I don’t know what to call it. Whatever it is, it’s just sexy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…”
“You sure I’m not too rough for your taste?”
“Positive.”
I drank the rest of my wine and poured us both another glass while we waited for the food to arrive. When it did, she ate slowly, glancing up at me every few seconds, her eyes moving down my face and over my chest. I could practically feel her reaching out to me, aching to be touched. She barely even tried to hide it. What was the point? I’d know if she was.
She was rough, quick, and brisk, not at all elegant or refined. I loved it. She was a real person, not some silicone queen trying to get into my bank account. This was a person with substance, discipline, and a good work ethic, somebody that I could easily see myself spending time with.
I didn’t want to rush through. I wanted to delay things as long as I could because I knew that this would probably be our last night together. So, I ate slow and took my time. When we were done, she sat back, and I poured us one last glass of wine.
“What is the best part about being rich?” she asked.
“The cars.” I took a sip. “I can get anything I want, from custom made models to research vehicles.”
“Why cars, though?”
“It’s kind of like a form of controlled excitement, I guess. I can get a thrill without the danger.”
“You like thrills, but you don’t like taking risks?”
“I guess so.” I took another drink. “But sometimes you have to take risks.” I trained my eyes on her, and nearly caught her jolt—just a bit.
“Like tonight?” she asked.
I nodded slowly. “I’m going to fuck you senseless.”
She went still, her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat.
“Come on,” I said, getting up. I took her hand and helped her up out of her seat.
“Hey, I—”
“No.” I wrapped my arm around her to lead her out to the car. “You’re coming with me, and there’s nothing you can do.” She let me guide her out toward the lot and into the car. Then, when I got in, she jumped on me, her lips tasting of red wine, her mouth responsive. Every touch, every swipe of my tongue, every flutter of breath was magnified by the electricity pounding through my veins.
She pulled away. “Drive,” she said.
Driving meant turning my attention away from her. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t wait a second longer. I peeled out of the lot and hit the gas as soon as I got onto the freeway. She went stiff, holding onto her door handle for dear life as I wove through traffic.
Every turn was another thrill. Her eyes would go wide, and she’d gasp. I turned it into a game, going as fast as I could safely get away with while watching her silently freaking out.
“Having fun?” I asked her.
“Are you trying to kill us?”
“It’s fun. Admit it.” I merged off the freeway and threw the car around a loop.
“Jesus!”
I belted out laughing. “Too much?” I let my hand slip up her leg.
“You’re crazy.”
“You know you love it.”
Once we got off the freeway, she seemed to relax a bit and watched as the city passed us by.