Page 24

Twelve

Why on God’s green earth did I do that? Now I have to take her out to dinner, as in an actual date. Where do you even go on a date, a dinner one? Will she expect sex?

By the time I get home, I have worked myself up into quite a panic. My hands are sweating, and my mind is racing with all the things that could go wrong. I play back the conversation on repeat, why was it so forward? I was making sexual innuendos. It’s like when I stood close to her, knowing she'd been thinking about my cock, my brain short-circuited. For those few minutes, I felt young again. Like the twenty-something guy who used to be a man-whore. Like — myself. For the first time in a very long time. It’s unsettling, and exciting, thrilling even. But, absolutely terrifying. Because I am not in my twenties. I am forty-five with three kids, a successful business that can now run itself. I am old. Except, for those few minutes flirting with her, I was young again. I liked it a little too much.

What would people say about me dating someone fifteen years my junior? And would she want babies, and weddings — because I am not about to fall into that trap.

I’m skipping twenty years ahead of this date, by the time Tala finds me in my study.

“Hey, where were you?” she asks plopping down in the latter chair.

“I went to have coffee with Channing.” She sits forward now, completely engaged. She even puts her phone down.

“And?”

“And I asked her out, on a dinner date,” I say covering my face with my hands because my cheeks are already getting hot. “Everything you said not to do, I did.”

“Did she say yes?” Tala is squealing, “When are you going? She’s so hot for you.”

“I don’t know if she said yes, I said I’d let her know when I am available.”

“You are literally available ALL the time, Dad,” she huffs out at me. “You need to call her right now and make a proper arrangement.” It seems a little soon to call, I just left there. “Or it’ll never happen.”

“I just left there.”

“So?” She rolls her eyes. “Call her.”

“I don’t know where to take her, or when to go. Or anything about dating, Tala.”

“Sushi, every New York woman likes sushi. Wednesday night, I need the car Tuesday. And you pick her up, like a gentleman, but don't be offended if she says no. Axe murderers are a real thing and some ladies like to be their own ride.” She is tapping at her phone, and I wonder if she’s bored with talking to me. “Hatsuhaha, on East 48th, can help you with a table at seven on Wednesday. I booked it for you.”

“How did you do that so fast?”

“The internet, Dad, you should use it for more than just finding stamps.” She’s not wrong, it's all I use it for now that I am not working anymore. “Now call her.”

“Can I text her?”

“No, don’t be a douche.”

“A what?”

“Just be a gentleman, Dad, you do it well. Call her and ask her if you can pick her up for dinner on Wednesday.” Everyone wants texts, now they are telling me to call. I hate the world today, it’s the most confusing place. “I’ll wait here while you do.” Tala wiggles in her seat. She’s far too excited about this. I hold my finger over the dial while I eyeball my daughter. This is not a good idea; the way my stomach is churning with a combination of butterflies and vomit is a sign. I believe in signs, I should stop before this becomes a wreck. I don’t though, because I liked the way Channing made me smile, and the way she had other parts of me dying for attention. I push the green circle on the screen and hold the phone to my ear while it rings.

“Hello,” she answers, cautious like she’s not sure it’s really me.

“Hello, Channing,” I say, and I don’t miss the short sharp breath she takes. “It turns out I am available for dinner on Wednesday evening, I have made a reservation. Would it be okay with you if I picked you up?” Silence. She’s thinking of ways to say no.

“What time?” I nearly drop my phone.

“I will pick you up at six, traffic might be busy then.”

“Okay, where are we going so I know what to wear?”

“Clothes, Channing. Wear clothes, it’s Manhattan. We get dressed for dinner,” I say with a smirk, I like playing with her. I can just imagine her face right now. “I’ll see you at six on Wednesday, Channing. Enjoy your Saturday. Don’t work too hard.” I don’t wait for her reply, she’s still trying to come up with one. I hang up, with a smile on my face, and wonder what it is I am doing.

“Daaaad,” Tala says, shocked that her old man has some game. “You don’t need my help. I take it back, I’d date you. If you weren’t my dad.” She winks and disappears out of the study, leaving me to have a nervous breakdown over this mess I have walked right into.

It feels like the days between Saturday and Wednesday take nine thousand years to pass. Other than a few simple texts, I haven’t chatted to Channing in between. I’m not sure if that’s made things better or worse, my nerves are shot to shit. I have felt sick to my stomach all damn day today – at the car wash, at the dry cleaner fetching my suit. Now sitting here waiting for time to pass — watching the clock has slowed it down about sixty percent I am sure. I’m in that time warp where it’s too early to go shower and get ready, but I have fucking nothing else to do. I have been to the gym, I have scrolled the internet for stamps, I even called into the office and was reminded that I don’t have to do that anymore.