Chapter 4
I press the phone to my ear and try to do the meditative breathing they teach in the yoga classes I sometimes go to down at the Y. No matter how hard I try though, I can’t seem to get my lungs to function at normal capacity.
“Please pick up,” I mutter, as the phone rings and rings.
Finally, it stops. Her voice comes on other line.
“Hey, babe,” Sarah says.
“Emergency girls’ night,” I burst out.
“Whoa. Okay. What’s up?”
“I… have a date. I think.”
“What? That’s great!” She exclaims. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s with Jacob Bradley.”
“Who?” I can picture the way she’d be wrinkling her nose right now.
“Jacob Bradley… my dad’s old business partner.”
“Ohhh,” she says slowly. Then, “Wait, what?! I thought he was in prison? I thought he was…”
“Just get over here,” I half laugh. “It’s too complicated to explain over the phone.”
“I’ll be right there,” Sarah says, without a trace of hesitation. “Just hold tight. Ice cream, chips or wine?”
“I…”
“Nope, never mind — I’ll just bring all three.” She hangs up before I can say anything further, and I huff out a nervous laugh. I knew I could count on Sarah.
Less than half an hour later, she bursts through the front door like a whirlwind, carrying plastic bags from the little grocery store that’s halfway between her home and mine.
“Take the snacks,” she says, shoving two of the bags into my arms. “I’m opening this wine. Stat. Then we’re going to go into the living room and drink our faces off and you’re going to tell me everything. Starting with how and why you’re going on a date with an ex-con.”
I laugh and follow her into the kitchen, shoving the ice cream into the freezer for now and grabbing a big bowl for the chips. Sarah opens the bottle of red and pours most of it out into two huge glasses. She hands me one and we make our way into the living room.
“Okay,” she says, taking a huge swallow. “Spill.”
I take an equally huge swallow and collapse backwards onto the couch. I tell her everything — about seeing Jacob at the fundraiser earlier, about finding out he was out of prison, about his invitation. The only thing I don’t mention is the way his blue eyes had seemed to bore right into my soul. Because that just seems silly.
“He wants to see me Friday night,” I say. My throat feels dry, despite the wine. “He’s sending a car to pick me up.”
“So… wow.” She’s been leaning forward this whole time, and now she flops back against the couch. “So you finally have a date. But it’s with a criminal.”
I shrug. “A reformed criminal,” I point out.
“Who screwed your father out of his business.”
I swallow. “True.”
I take another drink of wine and then bite my lip.
“Sarah?” I say tentatively. “Am I a terrible person for wanting to see him?”
For a minute, my best friend just stares at me. I feel my cheeks redden under her scrutiny. She must think I am a terrible person.
“Well, there’s one important question we need to ask ourselves before we can make a determination on that.”
“What?”
Sarah raises her eyebrows wickedly. “Is he hot?”
I giggle, finally relaxing a little. “Oh yeah.” I grab my phone and pull up a photo of him. I’d saved it ages ago — it was just his corporate head shot, taken before he went to prison obviously, but I didn’t have anything newer. I hold the phone out to Sarah and she grabs it to inspect the photo more closely.
“Oh yeah. He’s definitely hot. A little old, but hot.”
Jacob was younger than my dad, but still at least ten years older than me. Even in his head shot, he managed to look commanding and powerful, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that reminded me of all the time he spent playfully teasing me at the office.
“I like that he’s older,” I admit, taking the phone back and zooming in on his soft pillowy lips. I fight back a swoony little sigh. “It means he’s experienced, and mature. That he’ll be able to take care of me.”
Sarah snorts, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. “Take care of you? Lily, the man’s been in prison for three years. I don’t think he’s exactly looking for an intimate night of lovemaking.”
I swallow nervously. It’s not like the thought hasn’t already occurred to me, but somehow, hearing Sarah say it out loud makes it seem that much more real.
“Do you think it’ll be that bad? That this is just… wham, bam, thank you, ma’am?”
“I think he’s been in prison a long time,” Sarah says carefully. “And that probably changes someone. Just… be prepared. And remember you can say no whenever you want.”
“Right.” I lean back on the couch, clutching my wine glass so tightly I’m afraid I might shatter it.
Sarah grins wickedly again though. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t be good,” she adds. “A man like that… well, let’s just say, sometimes it feels good to be destroyed.”
—
By Friday, at Sarah’s insistence, I’ve gone through every bit of a grooming a human female can possibly endure. She said if I was going to wait this long to go on a date, I might as well go all out. I admit that it’s been reassuring to feel like there’s a part of this process that I have complete control over. I don’t know how the date’s going to go or what Jacob’s going to expect, but I can make damn sure I look the part. So, I’ve had my long hair trimmed and blown out. I’ve had my nails and my toenails done, in a soft peachy pink that looks pretty against my pale skin. I’ve been waxed in places I didn’t even know it was possible to be waxed.
None of it makes me feel fully prepared for what’s about to happen, though. Does a man like Jacob expect sex on the first date? And is he going to be disappointed when he realizes how inexperienced I am?
I shiver at the thought, and try to turn my attention back to getting ready. Sarah had helped me pick out an outfit the other day, but now I just stare at it, hanging on the back of my closet door. Can I really wear that?
The dress is pale pink, satin with a lace overlay. It’s fitted through the waist and has delicate little spaghetti straps. It all sounds lovely, and it is, except for the fact that it feels like it’s meant for a little girl half my size. My boobs spill out the top and the flimsy spaghetti straps do nothing to offer any additional support. The dress is also so short it barely covers my ass.
Sarah swore Jacob would love it though, and I have to take her word for it, because she clearly knows way more about all of this than I do. Now I pull the dress down over my head and try to tug it into place. I spin around to check out my reflection in the mirror, and am horrified to see that my butt is practically hanging out the back.
I can’t wear this. I’m just about to change when there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I know it’s Dad, so I quickly pull on a little white cardigan and then yank the door open.
Dad looks me up and down. His eyebrows furrow.
“Where are you off to?”
“I have a date.”
“Dressed like that?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad. Dressed like this. I’m an adult, remember?”
He sighs, rolling his eyes up as if he could draw strength from the ceiling somehow.
“Who is this boy?”
I bite my lip. I hate lying to my father, but I can’t tell him the date isn’t with a boy, but with a man. And worse, that it’s with the man who ruined him. The truth would kill him.
“Nobody you’d know,” I lie, hating myself the minute the words are out of my mouth. “Just someone I met at the bake sale the other day.”
“At the fundraiser thing? Okay. I guess if you met him doing volunteer work, he can’t be all bad, right?” Dad tries to smile.
“Right,” I say nervously.
I glance out my bedroom window, which looks out onto our quiet little suburban street. I suck in a breath — shit. There’s a limo parked outside the house, gleaming in the early evening twilight.
“I have to go, Dad,” I kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t wait up, okay?”
I start to head out of the room but catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Jesus. This dress is seriously ridiculous.
I grab a pair of jeans off the floor and yank them on under my dress. Much better.
Then I’m out the door.