My release had brought me a moment of clarity.
Dex needs to win Bianca over from Jay.
As fucked-up as that sounded, if she liked real me more than the fake me, it gave me a better shot at her accepting that real me was worth looking past all the lies I’d told. Maybe I was fucking delusional in addition to being newly schizophrenic. But at this point, it was the only plan I had. I needed to at least start to feel her out.
Dex: Hello, Bianca. I’m here now. Sorry about the delay. How has your evening been?
Bianca: It was very good, thank you.
Dex: What did you do?
Bianca: I had a date, actually.
Dex: A date that ended before eleven? Couldn’t have been very good.
Bianca: My work takes priority.
Dex: I still maintain that it could have been better if you chose not to blow me off.
Bianca: It was amazing, actually.
It was amazing. I could still taste her on my tongue. And there were still so many more places I wanted to taste her.
Bianca: Are you there?
Dex: Yes. Tell me about your date. What was so amazing about it?
Bianca: Well, you know how with most people, you spend a little time with them and the puzzle pieces fall into place? You sort of get the full picture after you connect a few of the odd shapes?
Dex: I suppose.
Bianca: I feel like this guy is a ten-thousand-piece puzzle, and it’s going to take a long time to see the picture.
Dex: And that’s a good thing?
Bianca: It is. It means he has many layers.
I wasn’t sure I agreed with her. The thing she liked best about Jay was his layers—but most of them were bandages to cover lies.
Dex: Tell me what you liked best about him?
Bianca: You want the truth?
Dex: Of course.
Bianca: The way he kissed me. I could feel he was trying to hold back—but at some point, he lost the battle. I liked that his attraction to me seemed to be uncontrollable. It made me feel sexy.
I had to laugh to myself. I’d thought I was doing such a great job hiding what being around her did to me. I guess I was way more transparent than I thought.
Bianca: BTW, I think we have our roles reversed tonight. I’m the one who is supposed to be interviewing you.
Dex: I find hearing about you way more interesting than telling you about myself.
She was quiet for a minute or two after that. I knew I shouldn’t be pushing, but what the fuck—I was in this deep.
Dex: Are you and this jigsaw dating exclusively?
Bianca: No. We’re not there yet. I don’t have any dates with other men planned, but that’s not intentional.
Dex: So, if say, a handsome, young, wealthy man with a six pack were to ask you out on a date, you’d be open to the invitation, then?
Bianca: Are you referring to yourself?
Dex: Maybe…
I waited eagerly for her response. When it came, my stomach sank.
Bianca: Then, no.
My mood sucked after that answer. I was pissed and just wanted to get the rest of our chat over with. She had no interest in the real me and would rather spend time getting to know a man who lived in his dead aunt’s apartment and whittled.
Dex: Why don’t we get started with your interview?
For the next thirty minutes, Bianca asked me questions. Since I was feeling ornery, my answers were less candid than I’d been the last two times we’d chatted. Toward the end, she mentioned she was going to be away on a business trip and planned to use the time to go through her notes and write up a draft of her story. She’d suggested we chat next week so that she could fill in any holes in her story, and I’d agreed.
Dex: How about next Tuesday at our regular time?
Bianca: That would be great.
Dex: Have a safe trip, Bianca.
Bianca: Thank you.
Feeling utterly deflated, I was just about to shut my laptop when another message popped up from her.
Bianca: Dex? Are you still there?
Dex: I am.
Bianca: For the record, I have a firm rule that I don’t date men anymore whom I have a business relationship with.
Dex: Does that rule apply after your business with a man concludes?
She took a bit longer to respond that time.
Bianca: No. I don’t think that rule would apply once my business was concluded.
Fuck you, Jay. Game back on.
Dex: Good to know. Sweet dreams, Bianca.
The next afternoon, traffic was even heavier than usual. The meeting I’d slated one hour for had turned into a three-hour unproductive waste of time. I looked at my watch when the light turned red again—we hadn’t made it more than four car lengths in two damn green lights. There was a heaping pile of documents waiting for review back on my desk, and my secretary would be gone by the time we made it across town. I emailed Josephine and asked her to order me some dinner to the office before she left and to pull the files I knew I’d need to get my work done tonight, if I ever arrived.
Frustrated, I rested my head back against the leather seat and stared out the window thinking about Bianca. Last night, she’d led me to believe she would be willing to go out with me—the Dex me—at the end of our chat. Which had to mean she felt some sort of connection to the real me. I just couldn’t figure out how I was going to get out of the mess I’d gotten myself into. If there was one thing I had learned in business, it was that anything was possible if you wanted it bad enough. Perhaps that was the key—I needed to look at my situation with Bianca like a business problem. I’d been letting my own emotions get in the way.
What would I do if Bianca was a business I wanted to obtain, yet the owner wasn’t interested in selling to me? That was easy…I’d get to know that business better—the likes and dislikes of the owner—what made him tick. Then use that to show him why I was a good fit to take over his company in a way that was meaningful to him.
I shut my eyes for a moment.
What makes you tick, Georgy Girl? What do you like and dislike and why?
I racked my brain for a few minutes and still came up with nothing I could think of that would help me gain an edge. Discouraged, I opened my eyes when we stopped at yet another red light and looked out the window again. To my surprise—the answer was right there in big bold letters. I was looking for a sign and found a literal one on the corner of West 21st and 7th Avenue. The big storefront sign was illuminated in silver letters.
Forever Grey
“Are you here for the six o’clock class, sir?”
“Umm.” I looked around the room and caught a sign taped to the door advertising that tonight was a training class for new volunteers. “Yes. I guess I am here for the class.” Any chance you also have a psychotherapy session after that? It was totally normal to make a pit stop to become a greyhound dog walker when I had a full day’s work ahead of me this evening, right? Even the woman at the counter thought I’d lost my marbles. She looked me up and down.
“Umm. That’s a pretty nice suit. You do realize these dogs tend to slobber a lot, right?”
“Yes. I was planning to change before we started.” My mind, perhaps?
Suzette, as her nametag indicated, thought that was a good idea. Since we had ten minutes before class started, I filled out the registration form and went back outside to my driver. “I’m going to be a while, Sam.”
He was rightfully confused. I’d basically yelled at him to stop and then marched into what appeared from the outside to be a pet facility, yet he knew I had no pets. “Is everything okay, sir?”
No.
“Yes. I forgot I’d signed up to volunteer at the greyhound rescue tonight. It’s part of some charitable thing that Caroline somehow roped me into.”
This lying thing was really beginning to come naturally now. It wasn’t unlike criminal behavior—starting out with petty crimes—one day you’re whacking a gumball machine on its side to make a plastic container filled with a broken ring pop out, and before you know it, you’re robbing a bank at gunpoint.
“Why don’t you take off? I’ll grab a cab back up to the office when I’m done here.”
After Sam drove away, I stood outside of Forever Grey and looked up and down the street to see if there was anywhere to pick up a change of clothes. Finding a Modell’s Sporting Goods store, I headed over and grabbed some sweats, a t-shirt, and running shoes. Ironically, it was almost the same outfit that Jay had on when he met Bianca in that elevator. That actually seemed fitting for some reason.
Ten minutes into the class, I realized that dog walking was more complicated than I thought. Length of leash, walking in front of the canine rather than behind him to show which one of us was the pack leader, rewarding positive behavior, socializing the dog…and here I always thought you clicked on a leash, and the rest took care of itself.
My greyhound was a three-year-old named Bandit. Suzette informed me that Bandit had torn his cruciate ligament during a race and, although he was perfectly fine as a pet, he was no longer a contender when it came to dog racing. As such, his owner was going to put him down—hence how he came to be at Forever Grey.
After my hour-long training was complete, Bandit and I took a walk on our own. There was a small, local park two blocks away that allowed dogs, so we set off—me ahead of my short-leashed, canine companion. When we got there, even though the sun was already setting, it was still hot and humid. Bandit looked like he needed a break so I took a seat on a park bench. My trusty companion took a seat, too, only he faced my way and stared straight at me.
“What’s the matter, buddy? I don’t have any more treats for you.”
The dog cocked his head and continued to stare at me.
I leaned forward and scratched his head. “You want me to pet you?”
When he inched closer to me and made a sound that sounded an awful lot like a purr, I took that to mean I was doing the right thing. Using both hands, I dug my fingers behind his ears and scratched. As he sat, one of his hind legs began to move in unison with the rhythm of my scratching. “You like that, huh.” I got a kick out of watching his leg slow with the speed of my scratch, then speeding up again when I did. At one point, he suddenly jarred forward and began to lick my face.
“Guess this is as good as it gets. You’re a smart dog, you know that?”
Bandit licked my face again as if to tell me he agreed with my assessment.
“Tell me, if you’re so smart, what makes Bianca tick? Because I can’t for the life of me figure that one out. Maybe you’ve even met her? Long legs, caramel eyes, comes around on Sundays. Smells damn incredible. You’d notice her, buddy. Trust me.”
I was acting pretty nutty lately, although I wasn’t really expecting an answer. But one came; only it wasn’t Bandit that spoke.
“Got yourself in a pickle, huh?” An old lady sat down on the bench next to me. She had a head full of rollers covered by a bright, multi-colored scarf and was wearing a hot pink smock. In her hand was a bag full of birdseed, which gave me caution.
“You’re not going to feed the birds right now, are you?”
“I’ll wait until there aren’t any more dogs left in the park.” She lifted her chin toward Bandit. “From the conversation you were just having with him, it sounds like you’re already in hot water. Don’t need me calling the pigeons over for your dog to try to chase.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“So what did you do, anyway?”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t walk as fast as I used to. Heard you telling the pooch you couldn’t figure someone named Bianca out.”
I sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Not much I can offer these days except my time. Try me.”
I didn’t generally talk to strangers. Certainly, I didn’t tell them problems with my love life. But, hey…why not? I was batshit crazy these days anyway. This was par for the course.
“I’ll give you the short version. Met a woman—lied to her. One lie turned into two—which now seems to have snowballed out of control.”
The woman shook her head, tsking. “Since you seem to care about her finding out, I take it you like this lady?”
“I do.”
“Whatever it is, you need to come clean. Better to be slapped with the truth, then kissed with a lie.”
My shoulders slumped. That’s exactly what I’d done. Kissed her with a lie, both in the literal and figurative sense. “The funny thing is, I lied because I thought I needed to lie for her to give me a shot. But in the end, she was getting to know the real me and now that one lie is going to make her question all of the truths.”
The old woman pointed to Bandit. “Is she a dog lover like yourself?”
I was too ashamed to tell her that even my dog walking stint was part of my lie. “She is.”
“That’s good. I have six dogs and two cats. Leave them home when I come to feed the pigeons each night. Animal lovers like us are a different breed. I always say, look at how a person treats an animal to know what’s in their heart. If she’s an animal lover, she already knows how to love unconditionally—it’s likely she has a good spirit and has it in her to forgive an old dog like yourself for making a mistake.”
“You think?”
“I was married for forty-three years. But when I first met my Walter, God rest his soul, he hit the sauce a little too hard one night and kissed a pretty bar maid.”
“And you forgave him?”
“Hell no. I dumped his ass. Made him grovel for a good month, went out on a date with a guy I knew he didn’t like and made sure he knew about it. But in the end—I hated the sin—but really missed the sinner.”
I laughed. “Thanks for the advice. I think.”
Since I’d kept Bandit out long enough, we said goodbye to the old lady and walked back to Forever Grey. Suzette was waiting in the lobby.
“I saw you coming up the street. You two seemed to have hit it off.”
“We did, didn’t we?” I leaned down and gave the dog one last pet.
“Will you be able to donate some time to dog walk each week? We can try to put you with Bandit if you’ve bonded.”
I had zero available time, yet… “Sure. My calendar is full during the weekdays, but perhaps we can work something in.”
“How about Sundays?”
“No,” I snapped…perhaps a bit too quick. “I meant—it’s hard for me to get away on Sundays but I should be able to figure a time during the week. Do you have a card? I can call you once I figure it out.”
She reached behind the counter and pulled out a card, handing it to me in exchange for Bandit’s leash.
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch soon.” Before my sanity returns.