Page 46 of Dirty Dealer
I allow a smile to take over my lips as I pull out a chair for her, the one with the best view, then take the seat to her left. Walter spins in a circle, his usual one-and-a-half rotations before resting between our feet. I deftly go through the motions as the hostess hands over menus and conversation floats around us, but it’s as if a sheer bubble surrounds our table. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the way Rachel’s lips press together as she studies the menu, or the way her eyes soften when they drift to the ocean.
She’s beautiful, but that word doesn’t do her justice. There’s an essence about her, and sitting next to her does a strange thing to my heart. It sounds ridiculous. I’d never dare admit it. But the emotion is there all the same. Anticipation builds in my chest, a feeling I can’t quite name. One I don’t really want to dissect. It’s thrilling and terrifying, and my God, I can’t stop staring.
Rachel glances up from her menu, her eyes widening when they find mine. “What?”
It hits me that I’m probably smiling like a loon. I should stop. God, I’ll probably scare her away. Instead, my pulse speeds as her lips widen with amusement. There’s a good chance she’s holding back the urge to laugh at how ridiculous I must appear, but I don’t even care. Not if it brings her joy.
“Ma’am. Sir.” A server stops by to pour two glasses of wine. We place our orders and I include a few appetizers for us to share. And maybe to extend our dinner. We’ve only just arrived and already I don’t want this night to end. I might get to take her home after, and she’ll be sleeping in my bed, but it’s without me. Something I aim to rectify as soon as possible.
“So.” I take a sip of wine and lean forward. “Tell me about this wholesome childhood of yours.”
“Oh, I don’t know how wholesome it was.” She laughs.
“That sounds like a story right there.”
“Well, my brother was sort of obsessed with Madonna. He was always organizing these shows in the neighborhood. We’d practice for weeks, then perform his latest masterpiece for the parents. He was really creative and bossy too, the perfect director. Although he was sort of a stage hog because he also cast himself as the lead.” She laughs to herself and shakes her head. “After the Madonna show, I’m surprised my parents didn’t move.”
“Why’s that?”
“He had all the little boys dressed in drag and we were all singing “Like A Virgin.” The neighbors were horrified. Now that I think about it, after that he had to get song approval for future shows.”
“Is that how your makeup career started?”
“No. It’s more where my singing and acting career ended. I hated being in front of everyone, so I made myself useful creating props and decorating programs, that kind of stuff. It wasn’t until my brother and his best friend became obsessed with cosplay that I started playing with makeup. The rest, I guess, is history.”
Our server brings a plate of bread with different dips, then dinner soon after. The food does not disappoint, and I enjoy every second of our conversation. Rachel tells me more about growing up in Iowa. About living in Chicago through her twenties. Her brother, who must be a riot, but very clearly is protective of her. With each refill of her wine glass, her inhibitions fade and sharing comes easy. I’m enthralled. I could sit here all night. It doesn’t escape me that I’ve never before cared to listen to these kinds of tales. Not by anyone I’ve dated anyway.
Not that this is an official date.
I wish it was. So much so that while I respect the boundaries she’s set for us, I wait for a sign that maybe she’s changed her mind. A lingering glance at my mouth. A touch on my forearm as I say something to make her laugh. Anything. But if Rachel is interested in me that way, she does a phenomenal job hiding it.
I’ll have to work harder.
The sun hangs low in the sky by the time our plates are cleared and the wine is gone. “I’ll order another,” I say as I empty the last of the bottle into her glass.
“No, no.” She holds up her hand. “I’m good. Another bottle and I’ll break into song. Might even try to dance on the table.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“No. Trust me. You don’t.” She rolls her eyes. “Tipsy Rae is cute. Drunk Rae breaks things.”
“Can’t have that. This is one of my favorite restaurants, after all.”
“You come here a lot.” Not a question.
“I do, but it’s been awhile.”
“Oh?” Her smile boarders on flirtatious. “That’s surprising.”
“How so?”
She twirls a finger in the air and her cheeks appear flush. “Your date the other night would probably love this place.” Her tone teases, but do I detect a hint of jealously? I can only hope. Then my interest wouldn’t be one-sided.
I scrunch my nose. “Jenese? She’s an . . . acquaintance. I don’t take her to dinner. And I’d never bring her here.”
“Ah, that’s how it is.” She leans back in her chair.
A rueful chuckle reverberates in my chest. “Oh, no you don’t.” I shake my head.
