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After we climbed into the back of the Escalade, Jenny’s coconut-y scent engulfed me. I ignored it. I ignored the fact that she was shivering beside me. I didn’t ask the driver to turn the air conditioning down; I didn’t say a fucking word.
We navigated the waterfront traffic to the Financial District and pulled up in front of the Prudential building. The skyscraper stretched up before us, lights twinkling in the windows.Viva Luxewas located on the top floor.Boston Magazinevoted it the most romantic restaurant; it apparently had the best views, ambiance, and drinks.
The driver opened my door. I got out and waited on the sidewalk, but Jenny didn’t follow me. “What’re you doing?” I peered inside.
She sat in the corner with her arms wrapped against her chest, staring up at the moon roof. “Just give me a sec.” She was either studying the darkening night sky or praying; I wasn’t sure which.
After a full minute, Jenny climbed down from the SUV. She let the driver help her; her metallic spiked heels wavered on the Escalade’s running board, but she landed steady on her feet. Jenny wouldn’t look at me. The driver bowed to us and hustled back behind the wheel, speeding away. We had palpably lousy energy. No one wanted to be around us for long.
“Shall we?” I kept my hands in my pockets.
Jenny still had her arms wrapped around herself. She stayed rooted to her spot on the sidewalk.
The bellhop waited at the door, holding it open. He made a point of not looking in our direction.
“Aren’t you coming?” A note of exasperation crept into my voice, even though I knew that wasn’t fair.
“I’m not sure.” She shivered again. “I don’t want to do this.”
“It’s a job, remember?” My voice was cold, cutting. She might not know it, but it was cutting me, too.
“Oh, I remember.” She snorted. “It’s not like I’d be back for any reason other than the money.”
We stared at each other for a beat. Jenny was the first to look away. Then she fluffed her hair, straightened her shoulders, and, without another word, marched past me through the Prudential’s doors.
Another bellhop held the elevator for us, and Jenny sashayed by him and headed directly into the back left-hand corner. I made a beeline for the right. I wanted to be as far apart as possible in the too-small space.
The doors closed, and another icy silence descended over us. Jenny wouldn’t look at me. I wondered if maybe buying her a sexy dress and taking her to a romantic restaurant were two of the dumbest ideas I’d ever had. Not to mention hiring her back.
Who was winning here? It certainly didn’t seem like it was me.
TheViva Luxehostess greeted us. She smiled, chatting as she brought us to our table by the floor-to-ceiling windows. We stared at her blankly, even though she was friendly and the view was gorgeous. Boston stretched beneath us, its lights twinkling as evening crept over the city. Old Jenny would’ve loved this view—she would’ve beenoohingandaahing. New Jenny was sitting stiffly, careful to keep her distance from me.
“Mr. Bryson? The wine list…?” The hostess was standing there, holding the menu for me.
I snapped back to attention. “We’d like theMarcassinPinot, please. Bring two bottles while you’re at it.”
“And I’d like a rum punch,” Jenny chimed in. “Make that a double. And can I have two, please? Two doubles.”
“Yeah, I’ll have two of those, too. Two doubles,” I added. “And the lady would like a straw.”
The hostess blinked at us, then hurried away.
“Thanks for remembering my straw,” Jenny said. She sounded like a robot.
I shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”
“We gotta drink the rum punches first,” Jenny instructed. “Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.”
“Beer before liquor, never sicker,” I added.
She nodded. “I don’t know if that applies to wine, but I’m not willin’ to find out.”
Our server arrived. He served us our four double rum punches, complete with straws, and then opened both bottles of wine without batting an eye. He silently handed us our menus and then left us to peruse them. I decided that I would tip him generously.
“Mmm, this is good.” Jenny sucked down her first rum punch in a nanosecond. “I needed that.” She started on her second.
“Me too.” I downed my drink in one gulp. It tasted like coconuts and the Caribbean and made me nostalgic for our recent trip to the islands.
