Chapter Eleven
Christian
When it came down to it, I didn't date that many girls. There wasn't a reason to; after all, most girls practically threw themselves at me. The closest I came to dating anyone was meeting someone at a bar and buying a couple of paltry drinks for her. We all knew where the night was going to end, though; that was never a question.
For some reason, things felt different with Gretchen.
I called up Mark a few hours before the date. “I need to get a suit tailored,” I told him.
“Oh,” Mark said, sounding a bit flustered. “I know a good place that I can take you to.”
“Good,” I said. “Meet me here in twenty minutes.”
When Mark pulled up in front of my hotel, I was already impatiently waiting outside, even though he got there a few minutes early. “What do you need a suit for anyway, man?” Mark asked as we drove.
I shrugged. “I'm going on that date tonight; remember, I told you about it?” Actually, I'd asked him for recommendations about where to take Gretchen to. He'd been a bit taken aback by that, especially when I'd shot down his first recommendations, which were for a couple cheaper, less formal places.
I supposed it didn't fit with his image of me for me to take a girl to a nice restaurant. All the media ever focused on were the clubs that I walked out of and things like that. It wasn't like I didn't have the money to splash out if I wanted to, though. And anyway, I wasn't always such a player. And I had a feeling Gretchen might appreciate going someplace nicer.
“And, what, you didn't bring anything nice with you?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
I shrugged. “I did.” God, I would sound like such a girl if I admitted that none of it seemed quite right. I was going to look sexy no matter what I wore. But I didn't want to wear a charcoal gray suit next to Gretchen, as tan as she was. It just wouldn't look right. Blue, on the other hand, might.
I searched through the racks at the shop that Mark brought me to, fingering the material, pleased to find that it fit my standards pretty well. Of course, the material was all a lot thinner than what I'd find back home, but that only made sense given the heat in Hawaii. I didn't want to wear something thick and coarse in 80-degree heat; that would be crazy. It got a little cooler at night, but not that much cooler.
“This is the one,” I said, pulling a navy-colored suit off the rack. “Just need to get it fitted.” I glanced over at Mark. “You might as well pick something out too,” I told him. “My treat. You've been great while I've been here, above and beyond what I would expect from a cab driver.”
Mark raised an eyebrow at me. “Who are you dating tonight: Gretchen or me?” he asked teasingly.
I rolled my eyes. “I don't go that way,” I told him.
I stood still as the seamstress measured me and made some sketches in chalk on the suit. I frowned when I saw Mark was looking at plain black suits, though. “Come on,” I told him. “Unless you have a fucking funeral coming up, when are you ever going to wear a black suit?”
Mark looked over at me, seemingly startled. Poor kid didn't know anything about fashion. I couldn't help rolling my eyes again. “No one wears black suits anymore, man,” I told him. “Grey, or blue, or you're a surfer, you could probably pull off coral jacket even if you wanted to. Just don't go with black, of all things.”
Mark laughed a little, shaking his head ruefully. Then, he bowed ironically. “I defer to your judgment,” he said. Then, he frowned. “But coral pink, man? Seriously?”
I shrugged, much to the dismay of the seamstress. “I mean, probably.”
“What about tan?” Mark asked.
“Boring,” I said, not even having to think about it.
“You don't know the women around here, though,” Mark said.
“And what, you do?” I asked, scoffing a little. It was a tease, but I could see from the expression on Mark's face that he didn't appreciate it.
“Rude, man,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said, only partly sincere. “But seriously, what do I need to know about the women here? Women are women no matter where you are, right?”
“Oh no,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Your New York women are impatient. The New York women who come down here book up their days with massages and beach appointments and they drink all day. It's just not anywhere near the same. Our women here, they're sweet. They're soft.” He paused. “I don't want to tell you this because you're Christian Wall, of course, but know that Gretchen isn’t going to fall into bed with you tonight. That just will not happen.”
I frowned over at him. “Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Mark said, sounding a bit more confident as he saw that I was listening to him. “You can take her to a nice place and everything, and girls like that, they respond well to money. You're going to have no problem impressing her and whatever. But don't expect that to automatically get her into your bed.”
“So, how do you get a sexy Hawaiian girl into your bed?” I asked, even though honestly, I didn't think I needed his advice on the matter.
Mark shrugged, though, looking glad that I'd asked for his opinion. “The thing to remember is that no matter how hot you think Gretchen is, she's just another woman at heart,” he said. “Sure, she's just like other women here, she's independent, and she'll want you to remember that. And she's probably got a stubborn streak. But at the end of the day, the thing to remember is that she isn't so different from other women.”
I laughed. “You sound cynical, Mark,” I observed.
He shrugged eloquently. “I am cynical,” he said, giving me a knowing look.
“The girl you like still isn't putting out for you?” I surmised. I could tell from his grimace that she wasn't. “Come on, get a suit,” I urged. “You can take her out someplace nice at some point, and I'm sure she'll be all over you after that. We all know women love a sharp-dressed man.”
Mark laughed. “I could never afford to take her someplace nice like that,” he said.
I snorted. “Are you asking for a raise?”
“Maybe,” Mark said cheekily, winking at me.
I rolled my eyes but made a mental note of it. It wasn't like I couldn't afford to give him a little extra money, and he was a good driver.
When I got to the restaurant that night, Gretchen was already there and seated. I grinned a little, remembering what Mark had said about her being independent and probably stubborn. I'd probably expect most girls to still be hovering by the door, waiting for me to show up. But not this one.
And I kind of liked that.
I slid into the seat across from her, grinning. “You're looking lovely this evening,” I told her, even though I'd only given her dress a cursory glance.
It was enough to get her blushing, though, and shyly ducking her head. “Thanks,” she said, her eyes lingering on my suit. “You look pretty handsome, yourself.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I figured I'd get a new suit for the occasion. Tailored just this afternoon. Cost a little bit of extra money to get the thing done on such short notice, but I figured you were probably worth it.”
Gretchen grimaced a little. “Honestly, I don't know what to say in response to that.”
I shrugged a little and flipped open the menu. “Have you ever been here before?” I asked. “My driver recommended it.”
“I usually go out to places that are a bit more relaxed than this,” Gretchen said, looking around. She gave a little nervous laugh. “Don't get me wrong, it's kind of thrilling to be here and all dressed up and everything, but this is just…wow.”
Good, she's impressed with it.
I wasn't sure why that mattered so much.
“Pick anything you want,” I said, waving toward her menu. “Don't worry. I'm paying.”
“Um, thanks,” Gretchen said, biting her lower lip as she looked through the menu. “Gosh, this place is fancy. I don't even know what half the things on the menu are!”
I snorted. “Yeah, there is a lot of French on here,” I agreed. “Which seems kind of silly since we're in Hawaii, but I guess maybe that's the kind of crowd they're trying to draw in.”
The waiter came over, and we placed our orders. I frowned when Gretchen ordered a simple seafood pasta, one of the cheapest dishes on the menu. “I told you, I'm paying,” I reminded her. “You can get something fancier than that.”
Gretchen gave me a look. “I don't want something fancier than that,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “The one time in your life that you get to go to a fancy place like this, you're going to stick to some plain-Jane pasta dish? You could go for a good steak, or-”
Gretchen stood up, frowning down at me. “Look, I thought you seemed nice when I met you before, but you were kind of a pompous ass. And if that's how you're going to be, then honestly, I don't think I should be here.”
She turned and stalked out of the restaurant, her floral dress fluttering after her. I could only stare after her for a moment, totally flummoxed, and then I got up as well, running after her.
“Wait,” I said, catching at her arm. It was a strange sort of role-reversal from what I was used to. Usually, the girl was running after me, rather than this. I should feel embarrassed. Instead, I just felt uncertain about what had happened.
Gretchen turned toward me, her hands on her hips. “I'm sure you can find ten different women in that restaurant who will be impressed by your money and connections and whatever else,” she said.
I frowned at her. “Yeah,” I agreed. “But there's a reason I asked you on a date.”
Gretchen snorted. “I'm sure there are at least five women in that restaurant who will be impressed with your money and who will also come home with you at the end of the night,” she said. “I appreciate that you're just trying to get laid, but-”
“That's not it,” I interrupted. I frowned deeper and shook my head. “Gretchen, you know I normally don't ask women out on dates.”
“So, what, I should feel special?” she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.
“That's not what I'm saying,” I told her impatiently.
“So, what are you trying to say?” Gretchen challenged.
I took a deep breath and then plunged into it. “You know this island better than me, right? You take me out someplace. I'll still pay, of course. But let's go someplace and get some decent food and just enjoy one another's company.”
Gretchen gave me a doubtful look and then shrugged, laughing a little. “Okay,” she said. “Come on. But your suit is going to look weird at this place.”
I snorted. “Better to be overdressed than underdressed,” I told her. “Plus, it'll just be like prom, round two.”
“I'm not going home with you at the end of the night,” Gretchen warned me, then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified at the words that had just come out of it.
“Okay,” I said easily. “You seem more like a three-date girl anyway.” I winked over at her.
“Five dates,” she managed. “You take me out for five dates, and I'll go home with you.” She looked embarrassed to have said that as well, and I couldn't help laughing.
“I'm going to hold you to that,” I teased. I linked hands with her and let her lead me down the street to a little hole-in-the-wall burger place that she knew. Eating a burger while dressed in a nice, new suit wasn't my idea of a good time.
But it was hers, so I was all in.