Page 13 of Raise The Bar
“No reason.” He disarms me with that boyish smile I’ve come to simultaneously resent and crave. “I wish you all the best with the next one.” He starts to back away from me on the sidewalk and I’m surprised at my disappointment at seeing him walk away.
“Thanks for saving me again, Clark,” I call after him.
“Anytime, Lois.”
Chapter 7
Callum
“Can I get you anything else today?” The eager teenage boy in the Vinyl Coffee apron asks.
A lobotomy maybe?
“No, just the coffee, thanks,” I say to the kid. The teen, who I’m guessing is new, hurries to start my order. It’s black coffee, so I couldn’t have made it easier for him. As I wait, I take in my surroundings. Vinyl Coffee has been here for close to a decade and has done well. It’s a coffee shop that’s built for conversations. Acoustic indie music plays softly, setting a tone without being too loud. Soft leather booths line two walls and small tables with chairs occupy the main floor space. A refurbished wooden counter separates the employees from its patrons, and behind it the standard stainless steel coffee contraptions are lined up against the exposed brick wall. I’m reminded of the espresso machine I have at home that cost me four thousand dollars that mostly collects dust. Or it would if the cleaning service I employ didn’t wipe it down twice a week.
Maggie isn’t here yet and after I over-tip the grateful barista-in-training, I settle into an available booth in the corner. I can see every table from this location, so regardless of where Maggie and her date choose to sit, I’ll be able to keep an eye on them.
Do you hear yourself right now?
I’ve had a lot of good ideas in my life, some of which have earned me widespread praise and made me a very wealthy man. But appointing myself the role of chaperone as Maggie Morales dates the single male population of Boston? I’m not sure that was one of my better ones.
What was I supposed to do, let her go on all these dates alone? What if some creep tries to take advantage of her, like on New Years? Maggie’s a smart woman who can handle herself, but sometimes men just don’t know how to take “no” for an answer. I’d like for her to have an exit strategy, and why can’t that be me? Only when things go wrong, of course. If they go wrong.
And what happens if they go right?
And if she happens to find the right one?
If I’m honest, the thought of Maggie being with someone else leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Is that selfish of me? Absolutely. But it’s the truth.
I don’t know how old I was when I realized that I wanted to fall in love. It was probably in the second grade when Stacey Fisher transferred into my class. She had long, golden hair that actually shone in the sunlight and a shy smile that made my stomach feel funny. I remember her laugh was a bit too high and one time she started laughing in class and couldn’t stop. She wound up being sent to the principal’s office for giggling. Don’t get me wrong–I didn’t fall in love with Stacey Fisher, didn’t even want to. But that was when I first remember thinking that falling in love wouldn’t be so bad.
And then I witnessed it. Saw my mother fall, no, dive into love with Steven. Without hesitation, without looking down. And for a while, she was so happy. Even if my step dad didn’t care for me, it was obvious that he loved my mother. Until he didn’t. Watching my mother find love and lose it was enough for me to change my mind about wanting it for myself. My mother is strong, much stronger than I am. If I were to let myself fall, and I mean really fall in love, I’m certain I’d never survive the landing.
And I’ve been fine with that. Hell, more than fine with it. Despite not wanting to be in a relationship, I’ve never had to look very far for female companionship. Being a decent looking guy with money doesn’t hurt. I’ve always been upfront with the women I see. They know exactly where I stand and what I’m looking for. Sure, there have been a few women who have decided they want more than I’m willing to give, but for the most part, they’ve appreciated and respected my honesty. And I’ve never wanted more.
I still don’t want more, I remind myself.
Then why are you here?
“Gee, Clark. What are the odds of meeting you here?”
Torn from my thoughts, I look up to find Maggie standing across from me. My senses flood as I take in the sight of her. She’s wearing khaki shorts that show off her toned legs and a fitted white t-shirt hugs her ample chest. Her hair is once again in a high ponytail and her sunglasses rest on top of her head. She smells heavenly, like vanilla and citrus, and the scent makes me a bit lightheaded; I taste it on my tongue. I snap out of my stupor and notice she’s staring at me, expectantly.
“Maggie!” I feign surprise, smiling widely at her. “What an amazing coincidence. I didn’t know you liked overpriced coffee and trendy atmospheres, too.”
“What are the odds?” Her head tilts to the side ever so slightly like she’s trying to be cute. She’s succeeding. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out if I want a late breakfast or an early lunch.” The lie slips out easily as I force myself to relax. I lean back in the booth and let myself look at her again. “You look nice.” That one wasn’t a lie and her color deepens the slightest bit.
“Thank you,” she answers with a small smile, running her hands over the front of her clothes as if to smooth out non-existent creases. “You really didn’t need to come.”
“I wanted to.” I really did. Today was the first time in a long time that I woke up feeling like I had a purpose. “Nervous?”
“A bit,” she admits. “I don’t want a repeat of last night.” There’s a vulnerability in her eyes that I haven’t seen before and it takes all of my self control not to stand from the booth and put my arms around her.
“Hey,” I say softly. “There is nothing to worry about. It’s a casual coffee date. You’ll meet, you’ll talk, and you’ll see what happens. If you hit it off, that’s great.” It would not be great, it would be awful. “If you don’t, I’ll be here with an elaborate, yet completely plausible reason you have to bail.”
“How elaborate?”
