Page 18 of XX Love Affair
“That’s younger than you, Dad,” Delia couldn’t help but cheerily say. “Didn’t you just turn sixty-three?”
An obnoxious shadow struck Eustace’s face, but he never got angry at this daughter. Later, he would probably call her up and give her a sob story about how great and generous Emma was to her parents and how much it moved him. Oh, Emma was so much like Delia, didn’t his daughter know? So patient. So understanding. And so pretty!
Delia threw up in her mouth.
“It was nice of you two to stop by,” Delia begrudgingly said. “Normally I’m not in the office on Fridays. This week is a bit of an anomaly.”
“So Jerry told me when we arrived. You get to work from home now, huh? Wow. I can barely fathom it. Back in my day, we pulled twelve-hour days sometimes. Real estate doesn’t sleep, does it, Deely?”
“It sure doesn’t, Dad.”
Their visit inevitably left a bad taste in Delia’s mouth after they departed for Boston and she was left to finish up the very last of her work. There were last-minute emails to fire off, calls to clear, and foreign men whose asses needed kissing while their wives idled in boredom. Delia was best apt at entertaining the wives, some of whom barely spoke English, but she didn’t have time that evening. Not even for a quick drink at the cocktail bar next door.
At five after five, she was free.
Normally, Delia did not drive to work unless the weather was crap. Like her father, she attempted to get exercise where she could, and she only lived seven blocks away from the building. Since she was heading to the other side of downtown to pick up her date and double back to a lounge, though, she thought it prudent to drive her Mercedes to the employee lot on the second level of the basement parking garage. Since everyone else was leaving at the same time, Delia was trapped in line as one car after another filed through the automatic gate hurrying them to rush hour traffic.
Lo-fi beats thrummed through her car. Her finger tapped against the wheel. GPS lit up on her phone, mounted on her dash. She had a notification from ChatSnap. It was Helena, wondering if she had time to run a quick errand before Delia was due to arrive at the hotel.
Delia enacted voice command to tell her date it would be fifteen minutes with traffic.
Helena was waiting in the lobby of her hotel when Delia pulled up into the driveway.
Even with a coat on, she was knock-out gorgeous.
“Don’t you look like a thousand dollars?” Delia kept the engine running as Helena opened the driver-side door and slid into the seat.
The door shut. “Only a thousand?”
Delia gestured to the outfit on her right. “That’s a 2018 Seville St. Clair… fall collection, yes?” She meant the wine-red cocktail dress poking out of Helena’s coat. “Retailed three grand off the rack, but something in your possession that old was probably thrifted. Still pricey, but perhaps $500 depending on the condition. Two-hundred-dollar Valentino heels, hair that smells like you did it yourself, albeit with very nice products. Yes, if I include your Sephora addiction, you were put together for a thousand dollars.”
Helena slightly shifted. She had yet to put on her seatbelt. “You like it, though. You’re already thinking about ripping it off me.”
“So what if I am?”
“As long as you know I’m hot.”
“Honey.” Delia put the car into drive. “That was never up for debate.”
The traffic meant they didn’t have much time to eat before their 7:30 reservation at Le Salon, one of the most exclusive lounges in the city for those with expensive tastes. Delia hated to admit it, but parents like Eustace guaranteed she desired only the best after coming of age. Like the woman sitting next to me. She was one of the best. At what? Delia was still trying to figure that out. Hopefully, only good things.
Helena was right at home in the most expensive Italian restaurant in town, something Delia noted when her date ordered for herself with an almost impeccable accent. She had shed her coat and showed off the Seville St. Clare dress that gave her cleavage in conjunction with a very powerful bra. The way Helena sat, with her legs to one side and her hair pulled over one shoulder, was so effortlessly flirtatious that Delia wondered more and more if this young woman was at one point an escort. Maybe not anymore, but she was too good at this.
Well! This was all working. She was getting expensive Italian food and wine out of Delia, wasn’t she?
“Tell me about yourself,” Delia said after they ordered and two glasses of wine were left on their table. “Where do you come from, Helena?”
“The West Coast.”
“Come on. Even if you’re lying, do better than that.”
Helena absentmindedly brushed her fingers against her curly hair. “I’m not really from anywhere. Military brat. Moved around bases most of my life. But…” She shrugged. “Spent the last few years in Washington. So, I guess I’m from there.”
“That’s quite a way to travel to get here.”
“I’ve been all over the country. Three thousand miles is nothing with enough airline miles under your name. And you? You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I’m mostly from New York.”