Page 15 of The Plus Ones
“My pleasure,” he says, grinning, and he probably does think he just did me a favor.
Asshat.
I wave Aunt Dolly inside.
Keaton gives her a quick peck on the cheek too, just to show everyone that what he did to me was no big deal.
It wasn’t a big deal.
It wasn’t even a small deal.
It wasn’t anything.
“Have a good night, Dolores!” I sprint down the steps before she insists that the holiday tradition involves tongue.
Of course, there are no cabs around.
I text my work friend to let her know that I’m on my way to her party and walk in the direction of Fort Greene, just as I realize that it has started to snow. A tiny snowflake lands on my cheek, right where Keaton kissed me. I wipe it off because I can still feel it there. The kiss, not the snowflake.
“No luck finding a cab?”
I spin around to find Keaton a few steps behind me.
“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I’m pretty sure that doesn’t qualify as sneaking up on you, but okay. Just let me call my driver.” He’s not wearing his coat, and I can see his minty-fresh breath.
“Where’s your coat?”
“At their place. I’m going back.”
“Well go back now. It’s cold.”
“Not until you get into a car.”
“I will find a cab eventually. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m calling my driver. Where are you headed?”
I sigh. “Fort Greene.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, taps it a couple of times, and says, “Hey, can you come pick up my friend to drop her off at Fort Greene? We’re on Seventh. By Barnes and Noble. Thank you.” He slides the phone back into his pocket. “He’ll be here in a minute.”
I have to dig my nails into the palm of my balled-up hand and force myself to say: “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
“You don’t have to wait with me.”
“Actually, I do. So my driver knows where to stop.”
“Does your driver have a name?” I ask accusingly.
Keaton takes a deep breath before answering. “His name is Manny. He is forty-seven years old. His birthday is June tenth. He is married with three children. His wife’s name is Juanita, his kids’ names are Jasmine, Samuel, and Lorenzo. They live in Queens. He’s a big Yankees fan. I’ve employed him for seven and a half years, and he doesn’t hate me at all.”
“How can you tell?”
“They named their youngest son Lorenzo Keaton Perez.”
