Page 32 of Desire
Holy shit, was he implying a do-over? Shock made my head feel light, then I remembered to breathe.
“Aren’t we all?” I managed to say. But I didn’t like how suggestive that sounded. “I mean, experienced ineverything. I’m a better journalist than I used to be. I’m now a reporter for this new show on BCN,Deep Source Real News…” Damn, I wish I’d been able to remember the name of the show when Jasper was in my suite earlier. It would’ve lent veracity to my claim about being in New York for work and not because of him.
Rod smiled weakly, and I could see his disappointment as he gazed at me.At least he’d gotten the message I had intended to send by way of my carefully crafted comment.
His posture was a lot looser. “Oh, we’re part of the same show,” he said.
I wanted to be that ant again, the one I’d envisioned earlier in the lobby of the hotel. I wanted to crawl out of the back seat of the limousine and through the creases and crevices of the door.
I forced asmile. “Finally, we’re colleagues.”
He smirked. “Maybe we can have lunch or dinner together soon.”
“What about you?” I asked with gusto in an effort to change the subject.
He frowned. “What about me?”
“Do you have a girlfriend? Wife?”
Rod scoffed. “No wife. I had a girlfriend. She was crazy,” he said with a snarl.
I smiled. “Aren’t they all?”
Heappeared even more irritated. “Aren’t they all? What do you mean by that?”
I shrugged timidly. Apparently my little, and very bad joke, had gone over his head. “Ex-girlfriends.”
He shrugged indifferently. “It takes two.”
“Then you’re crazy too?”
He frowned as if he hadn’t comprehended my meaning.
“You said she was crazy, and then you said it takes two. So…”
“I see,” he finally said.
Thank goodness our car stopped in front of the Guggenheim, the venue for the gala. The hoopla of our colleagues getting out of vehicles and walking into the circular structure with flashing lights following them stole my attention.
“Are you nervous?” I asked, my eyes shining while I rubbed my hands together.
A veil of disappointment coveredRod’s expression. “It’s just a gala.”
I had hoped my manufactured enthusiasm would infect him, but it hadn’t. Finally, the driver opened my door. I scooted out in a rush. For some strange reason, I felt free and wanted to get as far away from Rod as I could. Time sped up as we got out of the vehicle and began mingling with colleagues we hadn’t seen in ages. It was as if I had stepped intoa time machine, as a lot of people I had known from past jobs or journalism conferences were there. By the time I made it to the setup to take my press photo, Rod and I had lost each other, and that was a relief.
