FIVE
Fil had insisted on driving. Fynn sat in the passenger seat fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as they watched the crowd coming and going while waiting for the appointed hour. She would slip into the bar after Fynn went in.
“Look at these two!” She pointed while keeping her hand low.
Fynn stared openly before remembering her manners. “Is that the odd couple, or what?”
“Or what. Definitely.”
“I don’t know what to make of it.” Fynn blinked.
Fil snickered. “The one is a total meathead. Obviously, a gym junkie with testosterone to spare.” Her snicker changed to a hard snort. “I mean, look at him. His muscles have muscles that have pet muscles. Who needs to be that big?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone larger.” Fynn countered, still not believing her eyes.
“And,” Fil added, “What’s with his man Friday? He looks like Renfield.” She commented carelessly.
“Keep your voice down.”
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s totally cute. I’d do him. But, it’s an odd pairing. Don’t you think?”
The alarm on Fynn’s watch went off, stopping the conversation. It was time. “I guess it’s time for me to go in. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
Fynn sighed. “No seriously, wish me luck.”
“I just did.”
“You really have to get better at nuances.” Fynn grumbled, pulling the latch to open the door.
At the hostess stand she waited to be acknowledged.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. It’s under Ms. Wilder.”
“Ah, yes. This way please. The other member of your party has already arrived.”
Fynn could clearly determine the trajectory. She felt smaller with every step as though, not her clothes so much, but her very skin was shrinking against her bones. Seated and waiting was the man with muscles to spare.
“Mr. Hevir, your guest has arrived. Might I present, Miss Barrow?”
The man stood, dwarfing her. Without measuring, Fynn would be surprised to find if she actually reached his nipples. “Hevir? Is that what he said? My God, you’re big.” Her words tumbled out before she realized she spoke them.
He chuckled in response. It was a rich, vibrato baritone sound. “I get that a lot. Should I say ‘My God, you’re not.’?” He asked teasingly. “Please, call me Addian.”
“I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t mean to blurt that out. Please call me Fynn.”
The host cleared his throat, pulling the seat out for her to sit.
Recovering, she opted for cliché once they were both seated. “Do you come here often?”
He looked around nervously. “I can’t say I ever have. Have you?”
“A time or two.”
“What’s good?”
Fynn grimaced. “I hear everything is good, but I am a vegetarian, so beyond those offerings, I cannot say from personal experience. Are you a vegetarian too?”
“Uhhh, no. I’m a meat-atarian.” He said lightly with a broad grin.
“A carnivore.” She corrected, kicking herself as she said it.
“Yeah.”
She smiled, trying to recover. “I hear they have that here.”
He fidgeted, stilled, and blurt abruptly. “I have no idea how to do this. I am honestly no good at dating, which is why I seldom do. I don’t know that I want to be good at dating either. I positively suck at small talk. So, I apologize, this must be incredibly awkward for you.” He grimaced. “So, I’m just putting that out there from the beginning.”
“Then why…”
“Why, is a long story. My associate had a hand in it,” he explained as he looked up past her to see Omen giving him two thumbs up from his spot at the bar. Addian groaned, refocused his attention, and continued. “So I am trying. But, I have no idea what I’m doing. What about you?”
Fynn’s eyes were wide at his brutal honesty. In her mind she could appreciate his position. “I got tired of being let down. So, I decided to find a pro and skip the players. I’m a ‘Mr. Wrong’ magnet. Since we are here because of that, I assume you are a…”
“I’m a something all right. Presumably, so are you.” He winked, without actually answering.
“But…” She hesitated. “What are you?” She whispered.
His smile was blinding. “How about, for now, I’m just a guy? And, you’re just a girl.”
She looked at him with her head canted. “You aren’t at all curious what I am?”
“Look. We just met. And, at some point, maybe that all becomes important, but if we don’t hit it off, or don’t get along, or any number of other don’ts, that’s just one more thing that didn’t matter. So, why start with that? Did Ms. Wilder ask you for criteria, or did she only ask you, like she asked me, if you would be open to this deal, and to try?”
Fynn considered his questions, but still glared openly. He had a point, but her curiosity was nipping at her. When her wine was delivered to the table, she regretted the decision, noticing that he only had water. “Don’t you drink?” She asked abruptly after the waiter was away.
“I do, but it makes my head fuzzy, and dulls my senses. I’d like to stay clear tonight.” He winked.
She felt like she was mis-stepping with every motion, noticing he didn’t as she picked at the basket of breadsticks. “So, what do you do?” She asked, opting again for cliché.
“I’m a general contractor. Nothing fancy, something to keep me busy, and pay the bills. What about you?”
“I am an interior designer.” She replied brightly.
“I’ve used those before.” He quipped.
She managed to take it the wrong way. I’m sure you have. She thought to herself. “What about free time?” She asked, taking a sip of wine.
He shrugged. “You know, Gerri asked me that too. I don’t do much. I guess I like to fish.”
“Fish?!” Fynn spluttered, choking on her drink.
“Yes. Fish. Do you?”
“Fish?”
Addian couldn’t fathom where the miscommunication was happening. He was pretty sure that everyone knew what fishing was. “Yes. Fish. You know… Fishing? Bait your hook, cast your line, real in a big one, give it a pat, and tell it better luck next time? Fish?”
She was stunned stupid. “Fish?” She couldn’t believe Ms. Wilder had paired them together.
“Yes.” He said slowly. “Do you not understand? Or? I mean, I don’t kill them if that helps. I’m a catch and release guy. It’s just for the sport.”
“Sport? Catch and release…” She stammered, taking it completely wrong in her mind. ‘Sure. Catch and release…been there, done that before. “Okay.” She finally eeked out.
“You seem to be having trouble with this. Do you…”
“I don’t like to fish.” She managed to get out.
Addian shook his head, thinking to himself, Let’s move on… Before changing subjects. “What about you? What do you like to do?”
“I like to swim.”
“Swimming’s good. I know people who like that. I can’t swim.” He blurted without thinking.
They sat in stunned, awkward silence as their meals were served, both digging in aggressively. Finally, between bites, he tried again. “So, tell me about your work.”
“It’s mostly private, professional offices, or homes. Though, I do staging work for real estate agents.”
“Real estate agents need designers? I would not have guessed that.”
“Yes. It’s easier for some people to see the potential for a space with stuff in it. It helps the home sell. But, I only dabble in that. Mostly I do professional spaces.”
“Oh? Maybe you could do me. Mine.” He amended, awkwardly realizing it was the worst segway ever, but he had nothing else.
Freudian slip much? She thought to herself, stammering. “Do yours?”
“Sure. My offices. My residence. I do have clients. Maybe you should take a look, and see what you would suggest.”
“Really?” She queried, obviously surprised. “You just met me. You don’t know my work, my taste, my aesthetic. You might not like my style.”
“Perhaps…” He smiled, “I should learn. If nothing else comes out of this, maybe we can help each other. It sounds like we have compatible career paths, and professionally, it could be a good thing.”
Fynn relaxed at the offered compromise. “I think I’d like that.”