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My phone vibrated in my pocket - for the third time.
I planned to ignore it again. I knew it was Andre, wondering where the hell I was. Radio silence was dangerous. He probably had half the crew out looking for me.
I let go of Suzanne’s hand. “I’m sorry. I have to get this.”
“Sure. I don’t mind.”
Of course, she didn’t. Suzanne was too nice to mind something as banal as a phone call.
I hit the ignore button. I would text Andre, not discuss my business in front a stranger. I noticed I already had about twelve missed messages. I ignored them. It wasn’t right. I knew that. Andre was doing his job which was to keep me out of trouble and alive.
I just didn’t feel like being babysat at that particular moment.
I typed the words quickly.
Me: I’m fine. Now fuck off.
Andre: Prove it.
I rolled my eyes. He wanted the damn code. I’d never used it before, but I didn’t usually disappear for hours without communicating with him, either. It was a reasonable expectation - prove I was alive and well, that my phone hadn’t been hijacked by one of the many people who might prefer I not live to see the next sunrise.
Me: 101843
The month, the day, and the minute our conversation took place.
Me: Now will you fuck off?
Andre: Must be going well (stupid kissing face emoji)
I didn’t answer him, but his message was a link back to the real world. I had a long drive back to Connecticut. And yes, my first meeting with Suzanne St. Valentine was going very well.
She intrigued me which was a good thing. If I was going to use her to discover information about her brother, then at least I wouldn’t be bored.
“Everything okay? You look a little irritated.”
And she was perceptive.
“I am. I have to leave, and I really don’t want to.”
Her cheeks pinkened again. I spent little time with women who were still capable of blushing, if they ever were, and this was at least the third time Suzanne’s face flushed and she sought refuge by staring into her coffee mug.
“I’m going to do something I haven’t done in a very long time.”
She tilted her head. “What’s that?”
“Ask for your phone number. I’d like to see you again.”
Her mouth parted.
“Does that surprise you? I just spent two hours on one of the most uncomfortable chairs I’ve ever sat in, missed several calls, and probably at least one meeting.” My voice dropped. “I don’t do that. Since you’ve disrupted my day, the least you can do is make it up to me.”
“Make it up toyou? If I decide to see you again, and that’sif, it’s because I’m going to have to work overtime today because you totally wrecked my routine. I’m two hours behind schedule now. I should insist you take me out to make it up tome.”
She thought I was bluffing. That I wasn’t really interested in her. She laughed off the idea of a date with me because she couldn’t see it actually happening.
I scrolled through my phone to get to my contact screen and hit “new.”
I pushed the phone across the table to her.
