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“No thanks, Grant. Early start tomorrow and all.” I lean down to reach for my bag as a hint that this night is over. O-V-E-R, over.
“Oh, you’re one of those girls.” His face takes on a mean expression. “You flirt with a guy online, and then when the time comes for some action, you play hard to get.”
Is this guy for real?
“No, Grant, that is not the situation here. You appear to be functioning under a false impression of what meeting up for a date is all about,” I tell him, my voice rising along with my temper. “We had dinner, some not-so-interesting conversation,” I add, spearing him with a look. “And now it is time to part ways.”
“Fine,” he says with an attitude. “I am just going to the bathroom, and then we can leave.” And he gets up and walks away from the table. As my gaze follows him, I watch in complete shock as he walks in the opposite direction of the bathroom and straight out the front door. Did he seriously just walk out and leave me to pay the whole bill? What is happening right now?
I rub my temples, trying to stem the beginnings of a headache forming there, and decide on the spot to take an indefinite hiatus from dating. As I reach down for my purse to pay the bill, my hand encounters only air where my bag should be. Hang on! Where is my bag? In a swift motion, I look under and around the table, but it is not there where I left it. I grab the waitress as she walks by and ask her with quiet desperation in my voice, “Has anyone turned in a handbag? It was a cute black leather bag with a red zip?”
She gives me a sad shake of her head when she sees that my loser date has gone.
“This is some dreadful night you are having, hey hon?” she says with sympathy, popping the gum in her mouth.
I take a minute to gather my thoughts, absorbing the fact that I now have no money to pay for the meal or an Uber, no phone to call a friend for help, and therefore no way of getting home, and say to the waitress, “You’ve got that right. Can I use your phone?”
Without my mobile phone and its comprehensive list of contacts, I call the only number I know from memory (other than my parents’). Please pick up, Amy. “You have reached Amy and Oliver. We are not here at the moment. Please leave a message, and we will get back to you.” Damn it.
“Uh. Hi, Amy, are you there? It’s Lilly. Now is not the time to be screening your landline calls. I’m not a telemarketer…” I pause, hoping she will pick up. “OK, you obviously aren’t home,” I say after a beat. “I’ve gotten myself into a little bit of a sticky situation, and I kind of need your help. This date was really bad, by the way. Anyway, I’m a bit stuck—”
“Lilly? Is that you? Are you OK?” Oliver’s voice comes on the line, filled with urgency.
“Yes, Ollie, it’s me,” I reply with resignation, knowing I am going to need to ask him for help. Again.
“Where are you? Why are you calling on the landline? What happened to your date? Are you OK?” he fires off.
“Oliver,” I interrupt his rapid-fire questions. “I’m fine. I’m sorry to call you on your Friday night. It’s just that my loser date left unexpectedly, leaving me with the bill no less, and I may have been mugged.” Is it called mugging if your bag just disappears? I wonder to myself. “And I don’t have my mobile phone because someone told me I needed to charge it before I left, and that is where it now remains, at home on the bench.” I trail off. “Oliver? Are you still there?”
There is another moment of silence as Oliver obviously collects himself.
“So you are telling me that you are stranded, with no phone or money, after being mugged? After your date just left you there?”
“Well, you make it sound so dramatic. But really, I’m fine. Just a bit stuck.” I look around, and the staff is starting to pack up for the night. “And I have no way to pay for the meals and no way to get home,” I finish in a small voice.
“Lilly, tell me where you are, and I will come and get you.”
I tell him the name of the restaurant. “Thanks, Ollie, and sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”
More silence on Oliver’s end before he adds, “Just stay there until I can get to you.” And he hangs up. And I wait to be rescued again.
CHAPTER 16
Lilly
Fifteen minutes later, as I am sitting chatting to my new friends who are busy cleaning up behind the bar, a harried-looking Oliver rushes into the restaurant and makes a beeline for me. He grabs me off the bar stool, looking me up and down with concern, before pulling me in for a full-body hug.
“Lilly, you had me worried,” he says into my ear, pulling back only a small amount to look me in the eye. “Are you really OK?”
“Oh, sure, I’m fine. A bit embarrassed to be in this situation, but as my new friend Sally tells me,” I say, pointing to the bartender behind the bar, “men suck.”
Sally gives me an emphatic nod while she continues to clean the glasses. “They sure do, honey.”
I turn to see that Oliver is still looking me up and down, focusing mostly on my legs in my high heels, almost mesmerised.
“I can walk in them,” I tell him, hoping to put his mind at ease. “It’s fine.”
Oliver clears his throat and steps back from me. “Who do I need to pay so we can get you out of here?”
