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“I have been going nonstop all day,” I tell them.
“Well, we came by to see if you wanted to go to lunch with us, but it looks like you have your hands full.” Sage smiles.
I wince. “I’d love to go to lunch, but if I’m going to have this order packaged up and ready to ship by the end of the day, I’ll have to skip lunch. Can I take a rain check?”
Sage waves her hand. “No problem. How about we bring you something back?”
My shoulders slump. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Just then, the store phone rings. Juniper jogs over to the counter. “I got it.” She answers the call. “Belladonna’s.”
Sage and Juniper know all there is to know about my products since they use them in their salon, so I trust Juniper to handle the call.
I return my attention to Sage as she asks, “Do you want me and Juniper to stay and help?”
I shake my head. “I got it, but thanks for the offer. You and Juniper are doing me a huge favor by bringing me some food.”
Juniper skips back toward us, and I notice the strange look she gives Sage before tugging on her arm. I’m curious about why Juniper is acting weird, and I’m about to ask when the bell over the door signals a customer.
“We’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Juniper says, dragging Sage out of the store behind her.
I eye Juniper skeptically. “Okay. See you two later.”
That evening, once I’m back home, I get ready for my first date with a guy I met on the dating site. I woke up this morning to four matches interested in taking me out. I filtered through them and ultimately decided on a guy named Steve. One of the matches was a guy who was old enough to be my grandfather. I’m not bothered by the age gap, but I have limits. The second guy was straight to the point and asked if I was down to fuck. I admire him for being upfront with what he wants, but hookups are not my forte. And the third guy was my eighth-grade Math teacher, which creeped me out. Mr. Peterson was a hard pass. My skin crawls when I recall Mr. Peterson’s bad combover and the yellow pit stains in his too-tight white dress shirts.
“You know it’s not too late to back out.”
I peer over my shoulder at my mom standing in the doorway to my bedroom. “I don’t trust those dating sites. You could be going out with a serial killer for all we know,” she grumbles.
I roll my eyes as I slip on my black pumps. Steve is meeting me at the new steak house in the next town. After looking the place up and noting how fancy it looked, I decided on this dress I found at a boutique on my way home from work. The dress is black, and the hem ends several inches above the knees. It has a plunging neckline with split lantern sleeves. I paired it with some black heels with little sparkly silver stones across the straps.
I walk over to the mirror to take myself in, momentarily second-guessing my clothing option and wondering if it looks like I’m trying too hard.
“You look beautiful, Sukie.”
My heart warms at my mom’s compliment. “Thanks.” I walk over to my bed and pick up my purse. “Don’t worry; I doubt Steve is a serial killer.” I stop on the way out of my room and kiss her cheek. “I know you’ll be waiting for me when I get home, anyway.”
“Being a mom means you never stop worrying about your kids, no matter how old they are.”
An hour later, I’m sitting across the table from Steve at one of the nicest restaurants I have ever been to, and I’m already trying to come up with an excuse to leave. I’m not sure how much longer I can tolerate Steve’s company.
I knew the date would not end well when he arrived fifteen minutes late to the restaurant. I sat at the bar nursing a glass of wine and accepted the fact I had been stood up. I was relieved, since I had been second-guessing this stupid idea of online dating. But then there he was. Things got progressively worse from there.
The guy sitting across from me is not the same man as shown on his dating profile. Well, he is the same guy, just ten years older. Not that he’s unattractive. In fact, Steve is a good-looking guy. He has blond hair and is a smidge under six feet tall. He looks like a guy who goes to the gym regularly.
The problem is his personality.
He’s about as interesting as a gnat. And he drinks like he’s still living in his frat-boy days. Steve is already on beer number four for the night. Another mark against him is his lame apology for being late because he got caught up in a game and lost track of time, leading to him going on in depth about his online gaming. From there, he recalled his glory days as a high school and college football player. He blew out his knee in college, which led to the end of his football career, and now he sells cars at his father’s dealership.
So far, Steve has spent the entire date talking about himself and never asked anything about me. The only interest he’s shown in me is when he not-so-subtly leers at my breast, which has me wishing I hadn’t worn this dress. I’m kicking myself for wasting such a beautiful dress on this tool. Something tells me this guy lives in his mom’s basement, too.
The unfortunate thing is I keep comparing Steve to Harlem. I was determined to go on this date, hoping to forget about Harlem, yet all I can do is compare the two. Steve doesn’t hold a candle to him.
9
SAGE
I’m putting dinner leftovers away and wiping down the counters when my cell phone buzzes. Walking over to the dining room table, I pick up my glass and take a sip of wine as I peer down at my phone and see a text from Juniper.
