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“Make it an hour and a half,” he says.
“An hour and fifteen minutes.”
He mulls this over, and then smiles. “All right. Deal. We better get going. Clock is ticking.”
Gloria is staring at me from well behind him, listening in. Now, she steps forward. “I can run — ”
“Chester,” I call to my bartender, “you’re in charge until I get back.”
Gloria looks like she might start whistling like a tea kettle any second, but instead of letting loose right here and now she turns on a heel and stalks to the other side of the lounge, where she’s supposed to be cleaning.
Jake glances over his shoulder at her, following my gaze, and then sighs. “She’s ah… real friendly, isn’t she?”
“It’s your cologne,” I tell him.
Jake frowns. “I’m not wearing cologne.”
“Then you’re a cheapskate,” I laugh. “But no. The only cologne Gloria smells is money.”
He laughs again, and we leave to go on our first…
Lunch. Just lunch, that’s all.
It isn’t a date.
Poetry of Pho is every bit as remarkable as the reviews say, and Jake is, again, a perfect gentleman throughout lunch. We chat about easy stuff — what we did in college, our hobbies. Jake, it turns out, has been training in mixed martial arts for years and after some prodding admits that he’d like to start a gym of his own someday.
“What’s stopping you?” I ask.
He’s quiet, distracting himself with the last piece of goi cuon that I’ve told him he’s welcome to. He looks around afterward, and waves the waiter down for the check.
“Did I hit a nerve?” I ask, confused about the sudden silence.
Jake shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. Want to get out of here?”
I check the time. Nearly four fifteen. “We’re just about out of time,” I inform him. “Per our agreement.”
He chuckles. “Well, we can always catch up on that story next time unless…”
“Unless?” I wonder, intrigued.
“You trust your guy, Chester, to run the place while you’re gone, right?” Jake asks, a smile tugging the corners of his lips a bit.
“Jake, I can’t stay gone too long — ”
“Just a little while longer?” He looks so hopeful that I can’t quite bring myself to tell him no.
“I have something going on at the lounge later in the evening. I can’t miss it, so… a little while but that’s all.” I’m trying to be serious, but can’t keep my lips from turning up at the corners. I don’t even remember the last time a guy made me want to ditch school or work.
Jake is overjoyed, it looks like, and after he pays the bill we leave, and skip the car to walk toward the waterfront. It’s a beautiful afternoon, not too chilly for late summer, and while we start the short walk out at arm’s length I find myself drifting a little closer to him. Jake is easy to talk to, and there’s something about the fact that I know his father wants to put me out of business that makes me feel… secure? I don’t need to have any expectations, which is fine by me. Most people never meet them.
The beach here is beautiful, the sand a clean white, and the midday tide is in, making it a thin strip of white that cleanly divides the great blue from the beige and gray of the city. Jake looks out over the water. “I’d love to start my own gym,” he says, quietly, smiling a little even though his tone seems sad. “But I have some pretty big shoes to fill and it’s my job to fill them.”
“Your dad, you mean?” I lean against the railing with my back to the ocean as he leans to face it.
“The one and only, the great and powerful Reginald Ferry,” Jake announces, as if his father personally brought in the tide. “He thinks the idea of a gym is childish and poorly thought out. Most small gyms never come close to making a profit. I wouldn’t even need it to, frankly, but… Reginald doesn’t appreciate most things that don’t turn a profit.”
I frown; he sounds like he’s talking more about a boss than a father. “You call your dad by his first name?”
