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“That’s very kind of you, but I already have plans. Enjoy your lunch.” He smiles and returns to the table, giving his meal his full attention.
Unfortunately, the girls don’t get the message and keep trying to get his attention back. To my surprise, Joe holds his ground, smiling politely but otherwise focusing on our conversation.
Charles, on the other hand, is dropping hints that he’s working on this hot new movie until the girls ask for his number.
“I was thinking of taking a stroll through town, scoping out a few different locations,” he mentions, not so subtly.
“We’re heading downtown ourselves. If you’d like a second opinion or someone to stand in for test shots ...” Blondie has her charms turned on Charles, not that he needs any encouragement.
“We’re pretty much done here, if you want to head out,” I say when the girls finish their salads, no dressing and he heads out, a girl on each arm, the third trailing behind.
“Reminds me of Patrick Laporte,” Joe says and chuckles.
“You’re not wrong.” The quarterback of the Rockville football team had his pick of the cheerleaders back in the day. They’d hung around him like a flock of chickens. “I wonder what happened to him.”
“He played a couple of seasons in the NFL. Last I heard, he has a car dealership in Atlanta.”
We chat about a few other people we went to school with that we’d either stayed in touch with or heard of through acquaintances. It’s strange how quickly we fall back into old-familiar patterns, and I’m not going to lie. The way he handled those women bought the man quite a few bonus points. Even if I’m still confused about where we stand.
I do my best to suppress a yawn and fail miserably.
“Espresso?” Joe asks.
I shake my head. “Not my favorite. But there’s a coffee shop a few doors down. We could pick up some iced coffees and take them back with us.” I insist on picking up the tab for lunch, on the company dime, of course, and we head out.
“I don’t think Charles got around to talking to the owner,” Joe says as we stroll down the sidewalk.
“I’ll remind him when we get back.” I stumble, and his arm shoots out in time to catch me.
“Everything okay?” Joe looks concerned.
“I’m fine. Just a little woozy from the wine.” I can’t believe how hard it is hitting me. I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Are you sure that’s all it is? You look a little pale.” Joe opens the door to the coffee shop and motions for me to walk in ahead of him.
“Don’t worry. Nothing a little caffeine and sugar can’t fix.” I scan the offering. The Vietnamese Iced Coffee is new and sounds good.
“I’ll take one as well,” Joe says after I place my order and insist on paying for the afternoon treats.
“Do you mind if we sit for a minute?” I ask. I’m not sure I can stay on my feet much longer.
“Not at all.” He pulls a chair out for me and insists on getting our drinks when the barista calls out our order.
“This is good.” The coffee is sweet and rich with a hint of bitterness for balance. Best of all, it’s ice cold and revives me enough to make it back to the car.
“Why don’t we work from home the rest of the afternoon? I don’t think there’s anything pressing, and Spike would be a lot more comfortable at my place than in the writer’s room.”
“Where is he?” I hadn’t thought about the kitten since this morning.
“With Cara. Do you mind stopping by the office to pick him up?”
“Of course not. I need to grab my laptop, anyway.”
When Joe offers to drive, I hand him the keys without an argument.
“I wonder what was in that wine.” I’m starting to think the owner poured a shot of something stronger in there. Not that it tasted like it. The wine had been light and crisp.
“Are you feeling okay?” Cara asks when we walk into the office. She hands a sleeping Spike in his box to Joe.
