Page 39 of Callow
“What’s the question?” he asked. “Smaller is better here, right? Forces things to get… cozy.”
“Depends on how many women you want to have in there with you,” I said, shrugging.
“Right you are, right you are,” he said, creating another fucking rectangle. Perish was going to have a conniption. “So, what’s the problem with the hot mom?”
“We had a, er, date,” I admitted. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?” he asked, brow quirking up.
“We had coffee at She’s Bean Around.”
“Okay. And you want to ask her out again?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“But you don’t want to be a fucking lame-ass who takes her out to dinner.”
“That’s about the way of it, yeah. She doesn’t get much time away from work and the kid to just be a person. I want to do something fun and memorable. Let her unwind a bit.”
“I’m assuming getting some shrooms and taking an erotic art class is off the table?” he asked.
I wanted to burst out laughing. But the fucker was serious.
“Yeah, how about I don’t have to get the woman stoned to have fun?” I asked.
“Don’t knock it, man. Alright. Well, no shrooms and art. So I’m guessing Molly and a rave are out too. How about… a nighttime kayak ride across the bay to one of those private sand bars?” he said. “It’s private. You bring food and a blanket. Play some music on your phone. Get sweaty under the stars…”
“How… how the fuck do you come up with this shit?” I asked. Even if I’d been given a fucking year to come up with an idea, I’d never have come up with that.
“I am a man of many layers,” he said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart to sell the joke. The thing was, though, that it was true.
When people looked at Sully, they saw a lot of surface. To be fair, he had a lot of surface to show. But there was a lot of shit underneath that. He just didn’t often share that with anyone.
“This time of year, you shouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing you. Could pay off the local park rangers or cops if you’re worried, though.”
It was a great idea. Fun enough to make her feel young and carefree again. Tame enough not to have her worried that she was going to get locked up or some shit.
“Go on. Go invite the girl on the best date of her life. Just know, as you’re post-coital and happy, it’s all because of your friend Sully.”
“Christ, man,” I said, wincing. “That’s an awful fucking thing to put in my head.”
Sully’s laugh followed me back into the clubhouse where I made my way into my room, pulling up the text, then stressing the fuck out of how to word the invite.
In the end, I kept it simple.
Got any plans for Thursday night?
I knew she said Fridays were for her friend Britney. And with such a small support system, I didn’t want to cut into her time with her friend. Thursday night meant she still had work the next day, but, hey, who hadn’t pulled off a lazy Friday at work now and again?
I expected not to get an answer until she was home from work, but my phone beeped almost instantly.
Not a damn thing. Got any ideas?
Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings, making me feel as giddy as a fucking kid about to go on his first date.
Meet me at the clubhouse at seven. Dress in layers.
And, just like that, I had a second date.