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The sun is already sinking in the summer sky by the time I emerge from the lab. I’m late. My nemesis has insisted we meet at a restaurant of her choosing, which requires driving halfway across town. I agreed in haste, which is always the wrong way to go about a thing. But there’s something about the competition that I’ve always loved. I was in the middle of something at the lab when her text came through, and if traffic is any indication of how the rest of it will go, I should have known better. Multitasking is merely the opportunity to screw up more than one thing at a time.
In any case, my good mood lingered from a productive afternoon. I saw photos on Instalook. Thank the engineering gods for creating the ability to tag. My wife can block me, but her lover’s friends can’t. Long story short, they attended some backyard barbecue a few weeks ago. There were three photos of my lovely wife. She wasn’t smiling in any of them.
Nothing, not traffic nor Marcia Louis insisting on dinner, can screw that up.
When I arrive, she’s seated at a center table, which irks me because she knows I like to hang out on the fringes. She offers a half-wave and a big smile, unfitting, considering my tardiness.
“Sorry,” I say as the maître d’ discards me at the table.
She watches me sit.
“You haven’t ordered a drink?”
She looks over at me while simultaneously massaging her temples. “Alcohol is the last thing I need.”
“I’ll have a water as well,” I say to the server.
A menu is offered. As I study it, my mouth waters. My appetite has come back. A good day in the lab and knowing my wife is unhappy can have that effect.
“So you don’t hate it then,” Marcia says, reading me.
I glance around the place and shrug. “So far, so good.”
“I hear there’s an offer on the table.”
“Did you know that during a person’s lifetime they’ll produce enough saliva to fill two swimming pools?”
She cocks her head. We’ve known each other a long time, so nothing I say surprises her. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Elliot.” She says my name like she’s going to reel me back in. If only she weren’t so good at it. “I heard you’re close to closing.”
“Did you?”
“Nathan said things are progressing with the contract.”
Ah, there it is. Just needed to know where the leak was. I should have figured. “You should ask him, then.”
She purses her lips. “I’m asking you.”
“I have nothing to say.”
I glance at the menu. I glance at my watch. If I wrap this up quickly there’s still time to get back to the lab. I’ll probably spend the night there. “The brain is much more active at night than during the day,” I offer.
She says nothing.
We order. The food comes. We discuss banal industry stuff. Nothing that interests me.
As I’m settling the bill, she places her hand on my wrist. “For what it’s worth—”
“One hundred and sixty-eight dollars.”
She looks confused. “What?”
“That’s what the meal was worth.”
“Jesus. Elliot.” She shakes her head. “Can’t you be serious, even for a second?”
