Page 5 of All The Wrong Notes
With a deep sigh, he slunk further into the corner to watch the merriment as it went on without him.
* * *
Over the next few weeks, Elise spent quite a bit of time with Janet and Carlos. They went for a picnic, to a play in High Park, spent an afternoon out on the lake on a yacht, and went walking through the city’s networks of parks. And on almost every occasion, Will Snootypants joined them. Elise could hardly complain. He insisted on buying the tickets for the play and the picnic fare, and it was his yacht, after all.
A yacht! Seriously? Elise knew from his LinkedIn profile that his family business was a huge deal, but a yacht? The guy couldn’t be much more than 30. She was nearly there, and the only yacht she could think about buying was a little toy one.
To his credit, he wasn’t rude anymore, but he was hardly any more talkative, and no matter what Elise did, his eyes followed her with a disapproving glare. Seriously, what was she doing wrong? Was she applying her sunscreen incorrectly? Not wearing suitably trendy flip flops? Should she have taken her diamond earrings to the beach? She kept her temper in check and made an effort to be polite, but it was vexatious.
Even more annoying was his habit of always lurking around her, listening to her conversations but not joining them. This was understandable, she supposed, when it was only the four of them—her, Janet, Carlos and Will—but when they met with others in larger groups, it was downright stalkerish.
“Are you trying to decide which, of the many things I’ve been talking about, is the most wrong?” she asked one evening near the end of August.
Janet had invited several friends to the small green space behind her condo building, a little oasis in the city. Tall, mature trees shaded the area from the late-setting sun, and a small table held a selection of snacks. An ice-filled cooler on the grass contained cans of soft drinks and beer, and between the metal and folding chairs and some blankets on the ground for people to sit on, everybody was comfortable and chatting in small groups. Except for Will. He had been hovering behind Elise’s chair for most of the evening, not saying a word, but scowling whenever he drifted to the side and caught her eye.
“Do you disagree with my views on imported wine? Or am I completely mistaken in my thoughts on the Blue Jays’ prospects next baseball season?” She twisted her head around to face him. “It’s the wine, isn’t it? You don’t think local wine can stand up next to French or Italian, do you?”
“I believe people have the right to their own preferences of wine.” His tone was flat.
“So, you think we’re all uncultured rednecks who drink the local plonk, but you know we’ll never develop a taste for the good stuff, so it’s no use telling us.”
He stared at her. “I meant no such thing. I have my preferences, as does everyone. Some like Bordeaux, others prefer Riesling. It was only an observation. I believe there are some local wines that appeal to the most sophisticated palates.”
“Then it must be thoughts on creating pedestrian-only streets that have irritated you so much.”
Something approximating a smile touched the corners of his lips. Or was it a grimace? “By no means. Your thoughts are… interesting.”
Interesting? What did he mean by that? Interesting, as in I’d like you to provide references and footnotes, preferably from peer-reviewed journals, interesting? Or interesting, as in that orange plaid shirt with the pink and green floral accessories and the purple marabou boa is interesting, interesting? Because if he really had something to say on the matter, why didn’t he open his mouth and actually join the conversation?
Elise tried to suppress a scoff and gave him a fake smile, and his lips twitched again. They were beautifully shaped lips, and looked soft. Damn the man for being so gorgeous. Someone with the personality of a cardboard box should have blah looks to match. It really wasn’t fair.
Perhaps it was time to be a bit more provocative. “What, exactly, do you find interesting about my thoughts? You must have something to say.”
He scowled again… or was he just squinting against the setting sun? “I do have more thoughts on wine, but perhaps those would best be explored through a tasting. But your comments about closing streets to traffic caught my attention.”
He remained standing, and Elise felt at a disadvantage, seated as she was and having to crane her head up to him. The others in her little group had continued their own conversation, so she stood up to meet him, eye-to-eye. Or eye-to-collar. Damn, he was tall. He watched her, still silent, as they moved a few steps away to talk a bit more privately.
“And what are your thoughts, then?” she prompted him.
He blinked and cleared his throat. “I suppose I understand the appeal of traffic-free areas for some people, but they do lead to greater congestion on the other streets. It’s busy enough downtown that diverting all those vehicles makes accessibility a real issue. If people can’t get there, they can’t enjoy the pedestrian zones. And if people can’t get to the business on the closed streets, they won’t do well.”
“Other cities have done this, and with great results,” she countered. “If they keep the streetcars on those streets, people can still get there, without having to worry about dodging cars every two seconds. There have been studies done on commercial activity… What’s that scowl all about? Don’t you approve of streetcars?”
Will let out a puff of air that sounded like a huff. “They are efficient when they have dedicated lanes, I suppose, but the effect on car traffic—”
“Surely, car traffic should be discouraged in the busier parts of town. Replacing private vehicles with public transit should be at the top of the agenda. It would make life better for everyone.”
“Not for me.” His words punctuated the air, and she glared at him as she waited for his explanation. At last, he continued. “I drive to the office. Traffic is bad enough as it is, without taking pains to make it worse.”
“Is the bus not good enough for you?”
“It is,” he glared back, “inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” she spat back. “You drive downtown every day? What about pollution and carbon emissions? What about the increased congestion for people who have to drive, like patients trying to get to hospital appointments, or fire engines, or ambulances? Every car is a hazard for people who try to do the responsible thing and bike or walk, and another delay for people on the streetcars. Do you ever think about them?”
Fire lit his grey eyes, turning them to razor-sharp steel. “You were the one who asked me. I don’t have to justify my choices to you. I have reasons, which satisfy me, and that is all I have to say.”
“Do you never think about other people? Oh, never mind. I don’t suppose you’ve ever taken transit, have you.”