Page 10 of Van Cort
The wine was easily drunk at dinner, but I deserve another glass. So, I pull the half-empty bottle from the door and pour a small glass before curling up in the lounge chair. My favourite chair.
The apartment is compact and perfectly serviceable for one. It’s in a nice building in a good part of Seattle. And while I was more than happy, even pleased, to pay my half of the dinner bill, I’ll begrudge the cost for the rest of the month.
And then I think about Everett’s eyes again. Maybe they would be worth the cost.
And maybe they’re worth the weird pickup arrangement with the driver, Andre.
I sip the wine. The difference in taste between what’s in the glass and what I was drinking earlier is stark and bitter.
I check my phone and ignore the text from my mother – I’ll call her tomorrow on my way to work. Instead, I text April.
Good food, great company and only one slightly red flag. I’d call that a win.
I pick up my glass and walk over to the bedroom to change.
She replies soon after.
We can all live with a little red flag? Although it will depend on if he still lives with his mother. Hard no.
I smile at her message.
Nothing like that. I hope. He sent his driver to collect me and had to wait for him at the restaurant. It was a midweek date.
He has a driver?
He’s $$$
Did you do your usual and insist on paying your half?
I roll my eyes and finish getting ready for bed before sliding under the covers and hitting the video call button on my phone. It will be easier if we talk.
“I wondered how long it would be before you called,” she says as she springs to life on screen. Her hair’s already tucked into her silk bonnet ready for bed, but April even looks good in that. Her dark skin and even darker eyes don’t need any assistance in making her look beautiful.
“I’m never going to assume, and a part of me likes paying. Keeping my independence.” My words come out defensively.
“Even if he’s ‘I’ve-got-my-own-driver-rich’?”
“Even then. Especially then.”
“It’s not a crime to accept a dinner from someone, Andie. No one’s going to judge you.”
“I know that. But I can pay my own way. I don’t need handouts.” April has known me since before college and knows the scholarship I had was the only reason I was able to go to Berkeley. She also knows that money is a sensitive issue for me.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Maybe? I’d like to. He’s very formal, I mean, you could cut a finger on the edge of his suit. And oh-so good-looking.”
“Call him.” She’s always the optimist and never holds back from what she wants.
“Well, I have his driver’s number. So I’m going to have to wait.” And I can’t appear too eager. I already know what could happen if he comes to the door, which is exactly why I asked him not to.
“The driver’s? Really? That’s a little weird.”
“I told you that.”
“Being picked up by his driver is one thing. Having a buffer so you can’t contact him is a whole other level.”
“Well, we’ll have to see. Catch you soon.”
