Page 10 of A Different Kind of Hooker

“I forgot to ask what kind of dressing you liked,” I said as I sat down.

“I like Thousand Island,” she replied, still grinning. “Hence, all the calories.”

“I’ll make sure to grab some when they call our order,” I assured her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Normally, this would be where things got awkward, but Eliza quickly avoided that by asking, “So, why do you want to come on my show? You said that you’d explain in person.”

“You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a fan of clutter,” she replied in way of an explanation.

“Clutter?”

“When people don’t communicate clearly, it causes clutter,” she clarified. “It causes all kinds of a jumbled mess when people aren’t direct with one another. Assumptions start to being made, untrue scenarios start to form, and then there’s nothing but a cluttered mess of emotions and confusion because of all the hemming and hawing.” Eliza leaned back in her seat. “I prefer to be direct if possible.”

“When would you consider it not possible?”

“When it might hurt someone’s feelings for no reason,” she answered. “I think it’s okay to have difficult conversations with someone, even if it hurts their feelings, if it’s part of the path to a solution. However, if you’re speaking just to be mean, then that kind of honesty has no value in it.”

The more that Eliza Dodger spoke, the harder that I was falling for the woman. She really was a breath of fresh air, and I loved the simplicity of her logic. Not a lot of people subscribed to her point of view on communication, and it was a shame because the world would be a lot nicer place without all the ‘clutter’.

“Like I mentioned earlier, I’m suffering from insomnia at the moment,” I said, finally answering her question. “I was looking for things to either entertain me or put me to sleep, and your second episode popped up on one of my social media feeds.”

Eliza winced. “How unfortunate for you.”

I grinned. “I disagree,” I chuckled. “I saw a person that wasn’t afraid to fail, and that intrigued me. Most vloggers edit their videos before posting them, so that all everyone sees is the perfection of their creations, but not you. Even knowing that you might not end up producing the perfect product, you still aren’t afraid to try, and that’s very…rare.” I cocked my head to the side a bit. “In a world where all everyone cares about is image and projecting their perfect lives, you’re inviting people to get to know the real you, and that’s commendable, Eliza.”

“I started it as a side gig to help me save up for a house,” she replied, ignoring every compliment that I’d just thrown her way. “I work as a medical data clerk, and though the pay is decent, there’s not a whole lot left over to really pad my savings account.”

“Buying a house is a lot more noble reason for making videos than fame,” I pointed out.

“It’s still a selfish reason,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s not like I started the channel to change the world.”

“Baby, it’s okay to be selfish,” I told her. “It’s okay if you’re not changing the world.”

“Says the firefighter,” she snorted, making me grin.

*****

Eliza~

Before I could stick my other foot in my mouth, Heron’s name was being called out, our order ready. As he got up to go grab our food, I couldn’t help but feel giddy over him calling me baby. Though stupid and presumptuous, I couldn’t remember the last time that a guy had called me something sweet. Granted, being a professional athlete and a sexy firefighter, he might call all women baby, but I found myself hoping that wasn’t the case. Like a putz, I also noticed that he didn’t wear a wedding ring, though that didn’t really mean anything these days.

When Heron returned with our food, he placed the tea, salad, and dressing right in front of me, then asked, “Did I miss anything?”

I smiled up at him. “Nope. It’s perfect.”

Looking over at his lunch, Heron had ordered himself a club sandwich, the house salad, and he was drinking water, which made sense. I imagined that he had to spend most of his life hydrated with how taxing both of his jobs were.

“So, you’re trying your hand at influencing to save up for a house,” he remarked.

I grimaced. “I hate that word.”

Heron’s lips twitched. “What word? Influencing?”

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