Page 36 of Swiped
Rami watched him for a beat. “That’s it?” He peered at Ian’s scruffy face. “Weren’t you going to that Oakland art thing tonight?”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
Rami went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water for Ian. “So, you’re just going back to sleep? At seven o’clock? On the clean laundry?”
Ian waved a limp hand in the air to shoo the water away. “You still haveyourphone, right? Call me if she tries anything funny.”
“Of course, but that’s not the point.” Rami put the water on a coaster on the table.
Ian’s tanned surfer facade showed the rare glint of actual anger. “Then whatisthe point?”
“Of you not melding into one being with the sofa while I’m gone, or of my date with Gemma?”
“The second one.”
“Obviously beating Nat Lane by partnering with someone who is a modern-day Luddite would be a symbolically loaded victory.” He put Ian’s pipe onto the brass tray in the center of the table and moved away the precariously high stack of oldNew Yorkermagazines. “I mean, it might even turn this whole stunt into something more meaningful. It might inspire people to, how did Gemma put it, ‘engage with technology with intention.’ It could be a movement! The spark that created sea change.”
Rami pulled on his coat and checked his reflection in the hallway mirror. Now he thought his eyebrows had never looked better.
“Cool, send me the link,” said Ian, voice muffled by the towels.
“I definitely will,” he said, and headed out.
* * *
Nat again found herself in the packed lobby of a downtown hot spot. Nick had suggested this place, a tapas bar where Nat had never been able to get a table despite many attempts and Sara’s pull with the restaurant community from her time as abartender. She checked her phone. He was late. Only fourteen and a half minutes, but still. And he hadn’t texted to let her know. The supermodel-thin hostess with long hair like shining glass gave her yet another dirty look. Nat shrugged, feeling like a different species entirely from this sublime human woman.
The hostess rolled her eyes and approached. “You’ve been waiting a while. Reservation?”
“I’m meeting,” she hesitated in front of the woman’s symmetrical, poreless face, “I’m meeting a friend.”
“We can’t seat you until the entire party is present, and parking the car doesn’t count.” Her glossed lips turned down like she’d whiffed a bad egg, but somehow it seemed like a smile. A frown-smile. “I’m gonna have to move you to the lounge area, thank you.”
She gestured with pastel, almond-shaped nails to a small armless chair and end table shoved into an alcove next to the bathrooms. A couple with identical hangdog expressions was squeezed butt-to-butt on the chair.
Nat squatted next to them and checked her phone. Nothing from Nick. And now it was approaching the twenty-minute mark. Her feet already hurt. She fiddled with her phone as she felt the panic rising in her chest. She opened up a text to Rami.
Nat:Have you ever been stood up for a BeTwo date?
No typing dots appeared. The clock ticked forward. She turned to the couple on the chair. “Twenty minutes late isn’t bad, right? I’m sure you two are late for dates all the time!” She tried a breezy laugh.
“I won the punctuality award in fifth grade,” said the one in a blue blazer. “So . . .”
The one in the green sweater shrugged. “I guess it’s better than thirty?”
The Hostess Goddess breezed toward them. With a flick of her long fingers, the couple leapt up as if they’d won a prize. The punctual one patted the seat for Nat to sit and gave her a sympathetic smile before practically skipping away to their table.
“I’m sure he’s on his way,” said Nat, to the empty alcove.
Her phone buzzed. It was Rami.
Rami:I’ve only been stood up once.
Twice if you count the second time.
Nat laughed in spite of the tears building like storm clouds behind her eyes.
Nat:Haha
