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He raises the glass to his lips, takes a sip, then says, “Say what?”
I can take sarcastic, taunting, complaining, and moody Logan, but this casual stillness is something different. It’s unsettling in a way that has my stomach flipping like I’m riding a roller coaster.
“I can see you’re wanting to make some comment. Just say it. Get it over with,” I demand but my soft voice is weak, not at all convincing. Rather than stand waiting for his response, I walk over to the cupboard, pull out a glass, and fill it with iced water from the dispenser in the fridge door.
The silence behind me remains deafening and I don’t dare turn in his direction until I absolutely have to. I bring the glass to my lips and gulp it down, too quickly. All under his watchful gaze. This silence is worse than his words.
I puff out a breath of frustration loudly, then rinse the glass and place it in the dishwasher.
With one hand on my hip, I glare at him. “Well?”
He stands and then looks down at me, saying, “You look beautiful tonight. Enjoy your date.” He picks up his glass and walks over to stand with his back to me, staring out at the city lights.
My jaw hits the floor with an imagined thud. I’m speechless. The words seem to have been pulled from him like a dentist pulling out a tooth. His face expressionless, his tone flat. He appears to have taken no pleasure in giving me a compliment. Well, I think it was a compliment, it’s hard to tell when it was delivered so matter-of-factly.
There’s only one thing left for me to do, escape. I need to get far away from this moody, complicated man before I say or do something that gets me kicked out of his apartment. The door bangs behind me and I check the time on my cell while walking briskly to the elevator. Great, I’m now running late to meet Dana.
Luckily, we had arranged to meet just around the corner at a bar where Katie and I would often meet when I was in the city. It’s a speakeasy-inspired local bar that’s not hidden but is tucked away enough that the clientele is usually local. Roaring twenties vibes hit me when I walk through the door. Black walls, ceilings, and soft cushioned seating are contrasted with bare brick, wood, and gold fixtures and fittings. It has an old-world opulence that a lot of places try to pull off but don’t do as successfully. Soothing Jazz music filters through the speakers and my body takes on the sway and rhythm as I make my way to where Dana is sitting at a small wooden table about halfway down the narrow bar. Couples and small groups fill about two-thirds of the dimly lit tables. A quiet Saturday night which is perfect for us to finally catch up properly. One brief coffee meeting a few days after I arrived back in Manhattan was not enough.
Dana stands when I reach the table and hugs me. I met her about eighteen months ago on a night out with Katie, at the time she’d only been working for Carlson Publishing for about six months as the head of HR. She’s a few years older than us and while her work credentials are extensive from what Katie has told me, she seems far more innocent of the world. Maybe it’s because she grew up on a small farm in Upstate New York or that she hasn’t really traveled much beyond her home state. Either way, it doesn’t matter because she’s a genuinely kind, sweet person, and since that first time we met, I’ve considered her to be one of my good friends. She slipped into our close friend group so seamlessly that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t part of the group chat.
Excited to have finally managed to meet, we place our orders for a traditional margarita. Another reason Dana is one of us. We are margarita girls. Not those fruity ones that bartenders like to create, no way. We like the original traditional kind with the crusty salt rim on the glass and a tang that has you pursing your lips in a perfect pout.
Only once we both have our long-stemmed cocktail glasses in our hands, can we really get into the evening. With a tinkling of glass hitting glass, we touch them together and take a first sip. My taste buds do a salsa dance in my mouth. That first sip is always the best.
“It’s so good to see you, again. I can’t believe you’re here permanently … and living with Logan.”
I laugh. Dana hasn’t wasted any time in getting down to the interesting stuff. She knows what Logan and I have been like in the past, having been an unwilling spectator to a minor blowup early in the year at his parents’ anniversary party. Logan took exception to one of his friends from college talking to me and I took exception to him interfering. I’ve seen his overprotective behavior with Katie over the years and I wasn’t about to let him do the same to me. He’s not my brother, far from it.
Leaning an elbow on the table and placing her chin on the palm of her hand, she says, “Come on, spill. I’ve been dying to hear how you two are getting along as roommates.” I smile, nothing beats having a girls’ night out where we get to share pretty much everything.
“Argh. You can’t imagine how difficult he is to share space with. Everything has to be his way or no way,” I tell her, still smiling. It’s a true summary of Logan as a roommate, but I’m finding it’s not bothering me anywhere near as much as it did that first week.
She nods. “I think I can actually. He’s exactly the same at work. Moody. But for all his demanding ways and high expectations of his staff, they love him and don’t want to work in any other team, not even on a short secondment.”
“There’s no accounting for some people’s taste,” I murmur, a little surprised by this revelation. “But why do you think they like working for him? Maybe I can pick up a few tips that I can adopt for my current situation.”
She laughs. “Maybe.” She takes another delicate sip of her drink. Dana is a classic beauty, with fair hair and pretty, fine features that give her an ethereal fragile look. “His staff swear by his fairness and willingness to pitch in when they get super busy. They tell me he rolls up his sleeves and stands shoulder to shoulder with them when needed.”
“Hmmm, I guess I’m not surprised. Logan has always been a hard worker. Back in high school he spent as much time in the library studying as he did on the athletics field or gym training. And he’s always been incredibly loyal to Katie and his family.”
Maybe if I’m being fair that loyalty has even extended to me at times but I don’t mention that.
Instead, I think about our rocky friendship over the years. There have been times when I could call our interactions comfortable and other times when it felt like there was a rift between us as deep as an Atlantic Ocean trench and probably just as unfathomable.
Dana interrupts my thoughts. “He’s a workaholic. Jason is always telling him to ease up. But he just seems to live for work.”
“Do you know if Logan has a girlfriend?” I ask, my finger picking at the corner of the cardboard coaster. I don’t mean to use my friend to spy on Logan, but something that’s been bugging me lately is wondering where he spends his evenings?
She smiles at me. “Jason told me that Logan hasn’t dated anyone for months. There was someone about six months ago that he was seeing but only for a short time.” That would have been around the time of his parents’ anniversary party and the last time I’d seen him before moving back. I wasn’t able to stay the whole weekend that time, but I did make the lunch that Katie had organized. I remember Logan was in one of his darker moods, so I ignored him for the most part.
Forgetting Logan for a minute, my brain snags on the thought that Dana has been mentioning Jason a lot tonight. I don’t remember a time when Dana has ever really talked about a guy.
“You and Jason seem quite friendly.”
She shrugs. “We are … but just friends.” The huge smile stretched across her lips seems to belie the words just friends.
We continue to chat over a second cocktail until about an hour later when Dana looks down at her cell.
