Won't Last Long Page 3

  “I keep trying to find him a boyfriend so he’ll leave me and Tina in peace,” Juan said. “She’s in Vancouver getting her master’s, so weekends are our only quality time, if you know what I mean.”

  “What about you, Joshua?” Eric asked. “With this place, you’ll be getting plenty of dates.”

  “I’m looking,” Joshua answered slowly. “I’m just starting to get what it feels like to be single again, so I’m not trying to rush into anything.” He explained briefly about his split from Crystal, whom he’d met in high school and dated on and off through college.

  “Joshua can afford to be picky,” Stephanie said protectively. “The last thing he needs is another pushy girl trying to fit him into her life, rather than appreciating him for who he is.”

  “Let’s not get carried away,” Mark cut in. “Maybe what Joshua needs is a fun date—someone who isn’t all serious. Someone hot,” he wiggled his eyebrows at his wife, “and who cares if she’s not the type to bring home to mother? It doesn’t matter if it won’t last long; he’s not trying to get married right now.”

  “You want hot? You should go out with that girl Melina,” Juan said. “She’s smokin’.”

  “Who’s that?” Mark asked.

  “Josh talked to her at the party. Those legs. She works with Eric.” Joshua and Mark exchanged looks over the legs comment.

  Eric volunteered a few details. The youngest senior account executive in the company, Melina was known for her killer instinct. Eric liked working with her—usually—because although she was often critical, she never criticized his work unless she could suggest how to improve it.

  “You could call her. I’ll give you her number,” Eric offered.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Stephanie frowned. “She seemed really pushy. She strolled into your party like she owned the place, like you threw it in her honor, Eric.”

  Eric smiled. “That’s just part of Melina’s shtick. She does it everywhere. I’ve never seen anyone who could so thoroughly own a room. That’s why she’s so successful—she’s totally cultivated the ice queen persona and it works for her. But she’s smart and she’s hot and I think she’s single, so why not go out and have some fun?”

  ***

  Aussie leapt to attention as Stephanie’s brother Derek slammed into Joshua and knocked him flat on the basketball court.

  Derek reached a hand down and helped Joshua up, laughing it off. Aussie turned in a semicircle, constrained by his leash, and settled back under the park bench to wait.

  The six men played hard, moving purposefully around the court. Puffs of breath shone in the cold winter air under court lights. Eventually, the players left the court, bending low to catch their breath and making the half-block trek to their usual convenience store.

  “So, who’s buying the Gatorade?” Derek asked, a grin curling his lip. Clearly, it wasn’t him.

  “I got nothing,” Rick said, palms up.

  “Ditto,” Greg added. “It’s gotta be Mark again.”

  “It’s not fair—just because I’m married, you guys think I’m the only one getting any action,” Mark complained.

  “Guys? What’s the big deal? I’ll buy the Gatorade,” Juan volunteered, new to the basketball group and oblivious to its protocol.

  “Um, you can’t,” Mark explained. “Well, maybe you can. It works like this: the last guy to get lucky is the one who buys the Gatorade. It’s kind of like when you win the lottery, you gotta pay the taxes. I mean, you can’t be too mad—you just won the lottery, right? Well, you suck it up and pay the tax.”

  Juan still looked confused.

  “Here’s the deal,” Joshua said, lowering his voice. “If you’ve gotten lucky lately—I mean, more recently than the rest of us—it’s your job to buy the Gatorade after basketball. So, Rick, Derek, Greg and I are out. It’s you or Mark.”

  A smile spread across Juan’s face at the odd, totally juvenile tradition.

  “OK, I’ll play. Mark? What do you got? I haven’t seen Tina in almost two weeks—she’s coming down on Friday,” Juan offered.

  “Damn it.” Mark headed into the convenience store for six bottles of Gatorade. When he emerged, he pinned Joshua with a look. “So, did you call her? The girl from Juan’s party?”

  “Not just yet,” Joshua hedged. He’d stuffed her number in a drawer so he wouldn’t have to think about it. “Not sure if I’m ready for the Ice Queen.”

  But she hadn’t seemed icy at the party. She was intriguing. She seemed like ... a challenge.

  “Do it!” Mark boomed. “Don’t let Stephanie put you off. The point is, you gotta get out and have some fun. You were stuck in that rat-hole duplex with Crystal for so long you never got a chance to go out and enjoy the single life. It’s time to live a little, so call that hot chick and go out. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

  I could just go and have fun, Joshua thought. Hell, I ought to be buying Gatorade. Melina doesn’t have to be The One.

  Satisfied with his pep talk, Mark slapped Joshua lightly on the shoulder and Aussie pulled Joshua toward home.

  ***

  Joshua hit the shower in his bathroom, letting the water warm as he shucked off his sweaty clothes. He was starting to enjoy this living-alone thing.

  He could take a shower without running out of hot water. He could do laundry without hauling stinky bags to a lonely night at the coin-op. He could even parade around naked without running into any of Crystal’s friends who were “just crashing for a week or two.”

  Hard-luck stories brought an endless string of couch-surfers to their duplex: one bounced a rent check and her landlord threw her out. One broke up with his girlfriend and needed a place to stay. One moved back from a soul-searching trip to India and needed time to find new roommates.

  The unwanted houseguests grated on Joshua because he’d only ever wanted to share a home with Crystal. It made Joshua feel disconnected, as if reliving his transient roots.

  But Joshua could rarely bring himself to tell Crystal no. Rocking the boat risked losing her, and the few times he’d stood up to her had ended explosively. She’d shriek and slam, hurl insults that still cut him. But she’d always come back after a few days or weeks, and he’d always take her back. With his parents in Turkey and his brothers in Alaska and Africa, Crystal was the closest thing he had to home.

  Now, he was rebuilding. Even though he’d uprooted his life in dozens of moves—friendships lost and new friendships formed—leaving Crystal felt like more than a change of address.

  He was untethered, a confused mixture of pain and possibility.

  Joshua showered and dressed, pulling the scrap with Melina’s name and number out of a drawer. It stared at him as he padded around the apartment, turning on music and tidying up. Aussie followed him from room to room.

  I should cook something, Joshua thought, pawing through his shoebox for a recipe that felt right. Eventually, he settled on an omelet, because cooking for one lacked the excitement he felt when cooking for a crowd.

  Joshua turned the omelet on a plate and set his dinner on the table by his phone. No messages. It was up to him to make the call.

  ***

  “Hello, Melina? This is Joshua—we met at Eric’s party? I got your number from him? How’s it going?”

  “Do you only ask questions?” she fired back.

  Joshua plunged his hand into damp, unruly hair. Get a grip, man. You’re rusty, but you’re not dead yet. “No. Sorry. I just wasn’t sure if you remembered meeting me a few weeks ago.”

  “Joshua. Joshua, Joshua, Joshua. Nope. No match. I haven’t met any Joshuas recently,” Melina countered, but he thought he heard a smile in her voice. “You said we met?”

  “Yes, at Eric and Juan’s party—”

  Melina cut him off. “No, we didn’t meet. You never told me your name or asked me mine. But I saw you there.” She paused. “We talked for a moment.”

  “You called me dastardly,” Joshua feigned injury. “I remem
ber that. I wondered who used that word anymore, unless they were describing a villain from the nineteen twenties.”

  “So how did you get my number?”

  “I had Juan and Eric over for dinner, and Eric gave it to me. I wanted to talk to you more, without a video game grabbing your attention.” Joshua’s tone took on a sudden intensity as his confidence returned. “So hello, my name is Joshua, and I would like to take you out on a date.”

  “I see. Exactly what do you propose?”

  “Dinner, drinks, conversation. Isn’t that what people normally do on a first date?”

  “I don’t. I don’t do dinner. But I’ll meet you for a drink. Do you know the restaurant Next in Belltown?”

  “What do you mean, you don’t do dinner?” True surprise registered in Joshua’s voice. “You mean you only eat breakfast and lunch?”

  “I don’t do dinner on a first date,” Melina said simply. “So, Next? Have you been there?”

  “No, but I’m sure I can find it. How about Thursday at six?”

  “Six-thirty would be better,” Melina countered.

  “Can I pick you up? I’m not sure where you live,” Joshua offered, curious. He knew nothing about Melina beyond what Eric told him, and he hadn’t Googled her—it felt a bit too stalker-ish before a first date. He liked the idea of seeing where she lived to get a sense of who she was.

  “What kind of car do you drive?” Melina asked suddenly, catching Joshua off-guard.

  “Short answer or long answer?”

  “Short.”

  “A Porsche.”

  “I’ll meet you there. See you Thursday.”

  Joshua heard the dial tone. What just happened? Did I give her the right answer, or the wrong one?

  Whether Melina turned out to be worthy of romancing or they never got past the first date, Joshua knew: She is sure to keep me on my toes.

  FIVE

  Melina perched on a barstool, sipping a pale pink cocktail. She angled her hips to show off her legs and her sleek blonde hair fell in a curtain to her shoulder blades.

  Melina knew she could turn heads; it was one of the reasons she always showed up early to a first date. It gave her a chance to scope out the restaurant or bar, make it her turf, and flirt with the bartender to ensure better service.

  Often, a man would approach her, and Melina liked that. She liked the excuse, “I’m waiting for someone”—a legitimate way to put off all but the best suitors—and she didn’t mind the possibility that her date might see her chatting with another man at the bar.

  It tells them they have competition.

  The Belltown restaurant just north of downtown felt like a space age cave, with glossy black surfaces punctuated by sparks from multicolored pendant lights. The bar surface was an expansive, freeform curve, lit from beneath by an orange glow.

  Joshua entered the bar and peered through the dim light. Melina turned quickly, her hair sliding across an emerald green silk top.

  “So, did you come straight from work?” Melina sized him up, curious about what he did all day. It was nearing the end of happy hour and the bar buzzed with conversation.

  “Not exactly—I had to swing by my place for a bit,” Joshua said. Melina wondered if his smart casual shirt and slacks meant he had dressed down from a business suit or simply showed up in what he wore to work. His lean frame was an inch or two shy of six feet, Melina guessed, and he moved with easy grace.

  “I live downtown, so it’s not much of a detour,” Joshua explained. “I actually parked in my building and walked here. So, would you like to get a drink?” Seeing her near-finished cocktail, he corrected himself, “Or should I say, another drink?”

  Joshua steered Melina toward the hostess, his hand briefly brushing her lower back. Melina felt a shot of electricity from that touch and her head swiveled to look at him more closely. There was some energy, some intensity that she hadn’t immediately seen.

  The hostess seated them in the restaurant section and Joshua glanced at the wine list suspiciously fast—either he’s an expert, or he lied and he’s been here before, Melina thought. He asked whether she would like wine or another cocktail.

  “White,” she said, automatically.

  “What kinds of flavors do you like?”

  “You mean, like chardonnay or riesling?”

  “No, I mean, do you like sweet or tart? Are your favorite foods usually bitter, like coffee, or salty, like French fries?”

  “I’m not sure what that has to do with what I’ll be drinking,” Melina said, a snap creeping into her voice. “I’m not ordering coffee or French fries, but thanks.”

  “Sorry, that’s not what I mean,” Joshua’s brow knitted. “I was just going to help you choose a white wine you’d like. A couple on the menu are great, and they’re both local. Do you prefer the flavor of green apples or caramel?”

  Melina relaxed. “How about caramel apples?”

  Joshua smiled at her small joke.

  “I’ll go for the first one, the one with green apples.”

  Joshua ordered for both of them and asked for an appetizer. When the waitress returned to take their dinner orders, Melina shook her head no. She was already breaking several rules.

  ***

  Melina had a lot of rules about dating.

  If they don’t call, don’t bother. Men will walk through fire to get in touch with a woman they really want.

  If they’re more than fifteen minutes late or if they stand you up, don’t go out with them again and don’t return their calls.

  Don’t go out more than three times per week, or with more than three men at a time. Four or more make it hard to keep track of the conversations you’ve had previously.

  Melina’s rules for a first date were specific.

  Always be early. Make it your turf.

  Always choose the location. Your choice speaks volumes about you, so it should be hip, expensive, exclusive and a little mysterious.

  Always drive yourself. It’s easier to leave a date.

  Always have drinks, not dinner. It’s acceptable to leave after one drink, and OK to stay for two.

  Never eat. You could get caught with your mouth full when he asks a question, or get something stuck in your teeth.

  Always leave them wanting more.

  One of Melina’s tried-and-true rules was to ask a man what kind of car he drives as soon as he asks her out. The answer was important, of course—Melina couldn’t see herself dating the kind of guy who drove a lifted pickup truck or a sedan that looked like it came from a rental car fleet.

  But Melina asked the question not only to size up her date, but also to watch him size up himself. The answer, either with pride from the owner or with stuttering explanations, spoke volumes about his confidence.

  In Melina’s book, Joshua’s confident answer was spot-on.

  Despite her rules, Melina wasn’t doing a good job of keeping up the sophisticated façade she usually maintained on a first date. Caramel apples? How lame is that?

  She surprised herself by letting him order her wine. Does that make me look like I don’t know my way around a wine list? She caught herself nibbling on the appetizer he ordered.

  And she felt her mind wandering back to that first touch—it was as if he’d found her “on” switch. Now all of her senses were on high alert, watching, anticipating, and considering this man across the table from her.

  ***

  On their second glasses of wine, Joshua and Melina found some common ground. One, a range in taste from highbrow art to lowbrow laughs. Two, both were middle children and Seattle transplants. And three, both liked virtually every kind of food.

  Joshua impressed Melina by being well-traveled and comfortable in any environment, no matter how foreign. But Melina, who had never traveled out of the country, held her own. She told Joshua about how she enjoyed being the strategist at work, the go-to person who could solve any crisis with a cool that communicated: “It’s not a problem until I say it’s a problem
.”

  Joshua laughed in all the right places. Of course he laughed. I tell these stories on every first date. Practice makes perfect. Melina thought her stories were like an audition monologue, as if she were trying out for a role. Isn’t that what a first date is? An audition to be someone’s girlfriend or wife?

  Melina also listened carefully. Joshua’s open expression and genuine laugh made him easy to talk to. He made her feel more interesting, made her stories feel fresher and funnier. She liked the way he could follow any topic with details from his own life—he seemed well rounded and adventurous.

  And accomplished? She wasn’t sure. Melina made several covert passes, trying to get a sense of what he did for a living, where he worked, how important Joshua was at his company. She gleaned that he was an engineer with a master’s degree and he worked on medical devices.

  That could be important, or he could be some kind of lab rat, Melina thought. But Joshua was interesting enough for her to give him the benefit of the doubt—at least for now. She didn’t get to check out his Porsche, but he didn’t seem to be too wrapped up in it, either.

  Assuming he does drive a Porsche. Any guy confident enough to not bring it on a date has to be in some serious money.

  “I’d offer to take you home, but I don’t know where you live,” Joshua said after signing the check. Melina sidestepped his implicit question with a laugh and a smile.

  “No thanks, I can handle my booze. I’m sure a couple of glasses of wine won’t make me cross-eyed,” Melina joked. “Besides, you don’t have your Porsche here anyway.”

  Joshua’s eyes flickered. “No, I guess I don’t. Well, if this is the end of our first date, maybe I could ask you about your problem?”

  “My problem?” she asked, on edge.

  “Yes, your aversion to dinner,” Joshua said smoothly, smiling as she took the bait hook, line and sinker. “I know your mother told you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but I’d like to suggest that you give dinner a chance, at least on another date with me.”