A Kind of Romance (4 page)

“Dad….”

“Life is precious. It should be shared with those you love and cherish. Looks like we’re at your stop. Off you go now, son. I’ll forward Benjamin’s phone number this afternoon. Have a good day.” Dad waved at me before tapping on Hector’s seat. “Hello, good man! Shall we head back to Brooklyn?”

I stood on the sidewalk and watched the Mercedes fade into traffic. Dad’s parting statement rattled me. Not because he’d confirmed finding me a mate was one of his top priorities. Sure, that was irritating, but I was used to his over-the-top interfering style. The part that alarmed me was how casually he spoke of my mother and his own fear and loneliness. The sentiment was poignant and wasn’t easily dismissed.

THE FOLLOWING
morning I was sitting in a strategy meeting with a prestigious client discussing market expectancies. In other words, shooting the shit. We were all fairly intelligent people who understood there were no guarantees in the investment world. However, good business dictated that we find ways to convince each other we could predict the future to a small degree. I discreetly glanced down at my phone when it lit up with a number I didn’t recognize. A moment after missing the call, I received a text message.

Let’s meet for a drink tonight.

I ignored the message. It couldn’t be anyone I knew well enough to interrupt a client who’d made me millions of dollars over the past few years. I actually didn’t think about it until later that afternoon when I scrolled through my phone and saw it again. I sent a quick reply.

Who is this?

Benny. Your dad has called five times today to see if you’d called me yet.

I stared at the display for a moment. This was ridiculous. Did other people have to deal with this much parental interference in their adult lives? None of my friends did. Hell, none of my exes did. Avoidance wouldn’t work. Like any bitter pill, it was best to swallow it whole and get it over with. I pushed Call.

“Hello!”

“Hi, Benny. It’s Zeke. What’s this about?”

“Nice try.” He chuckled. “You know exactly what it’s about. Your dad wants to marry us off. As sweet as that is… I’m gonna have to pass. But somewhere between call three and four I started thinking the best thing to do was get it over with. Then we can honestly tell him we talked, had a drink, and mutually decided to part on friendly terms.”

“You don’t want to marry me, Benny?” I joked. His breezy tone set me at ease. I was relieved he didn’t take my father’s quest seriously. Moreover, I was glad he found it humorous.

“I’m flattered, but no, thanks. Unfortunately, George won’t let it go until we can at least claim we tried. So let’s have a drink. You can bore me senseless with stock market trends, and I’ll pretend to hang on your every word for an hour or less. Agreed?”

I couldn’t even pretend to be insulted. I was grateful he caught on quickly and was of a like mind. Besides, he was right. Going through the motions would appease my dad. We could truthfully claim we’d tried.

“Agreed. So tonight?”

“Sure, but ask me the right way.”

“What?”

“Ask me like you mean it. I’m Catholic. If I have to lie I’d like to do it with as little guilt as possible. Go on.”

I squinted at my cell. Was he for real? “Uh… okay. Would you like to meet me for a drink tonight?”

I made my way around my sleek wood desk and walked toward the window. As one of the senior officers, I’d been awarded a prestigious corner office with a view of the Hudson. It didn’t matter how many times I gazed out at the Statue of Liberty and the Jersey skyline, I would never tire of this view. The one from my loft was equally impressive, but this one meant more to me. I’d earned it through hard work, long hours, and dedication. I had to earn the right to keep it through more of the same. Nothing came easy in life. Nothing was free. Complacency led to certain failure in my field, and failure simply wasn’t an option.

“Can’t. I’m busy.”

“But you—”

“Just kidding! Love to! Let’s go somewhere fabulous.”

I winced at his word choice. “Fabulous?”

“Aka, not boring.”

“Okay. How about Antigua?”

“That’s on Broome Street, right? I’ll be there at eight. Don’t keep me waiting.”

He hung up before I could respond. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and wondered if this was a good idea after all. On the one hand, Benny was right. The effort should placate my father. On the other hand…. I shrugged. There was no downside. Anyone could get through an hour.

ANTIGUA WAS
a beautiful bar in SoHo with a warehouse feel and a splash of elegance. The ceilings were low with exposed antique wood beams. Corrugated metal covered the walls on one side while reclaimed brick anchored the other. Tastefully framed posters of old movie stars or rock-and-roll heroes covered the walls, and crystal chandeliers hung throughout the space, creating an interesting juxtaposition. Down-to-earth meets over-the-top opulence. The combination was a hit. This place was always crowded. I’d chosen it because it was within walking distance from my place and because I liked it. The added bonus of knowing the bartenders ensured I was served quickly. With any luck, I’d get out of this silly “date” in less than an hour.

I found an empty stool in the corner of the old-fashioned carved-wood bar and ordered a martini before turning to study the Friday night patrons. They were a mixed bag of ultra hip with bohemian affectations, overgrown beards, numerous tats and piercings, or more subdued young professionals like myself who liked an edgier ambience. Contrary to Benny’s fear I’d suggest something stuffier, I never would have. I wore a suit all week. I didn’t want to wear one on the weekends and definitely not when I went out. My navy-striped Hugo Boss oxford shirt and designer jeans were on the conservative side, but I was comfortable. And blue was my color.

“Can I get you another?” the handsome bartender asked, pointing to my empty glass.

I smiled and glanced at my watch. Benny was late. Or he wasn’t coming. Either way… what the heck? “Sure. Thanks, Don.”

I sent a quick text to let my friends know I’d meet them later. Carter mentioned something about grabbing a late dinner in Greenwich Village and then heading to a club in Chelsea. Anything sounded good. I’d had a long week, and I was ready to play.

A flash of fuchsia caught my eye when I looked up to thank Don for my drink. I did a double take. And then a triple. Holy fuck. Benny? He was wearing a short-sleeved, bright pink, fitted shirt with a pair of black jeans strategically frayed near his crotch that were so damn tight they looked like he’d painted them on. His Doc Martens were black, but the laces were floral. Yes, floral. I was pretty sure my seven-year-old niece had a pair just like them. While his outfit was brow raising, his hair was truly the icing on the proverbial cake. His dark bangs were streaked bright pink to match his shirt. To say he was colorful would be a gross understatement. He was… flamboyant. And I was fucked.

Benny waved his hands in the air as he made his way toward my corner of the bar. “Sorry I’m a smidge late. The subway is notorious. Is there any room here for me to squeeze in? I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

The pretty blonde on the stool next to me turned to face us with a smile. “We’re just leaving. You can take my chair.”

“You are an angel,” he replied theatrically.

She giggled as she slid off the barstool, squeezing between us in the cramped confines. The bar was hopping. My great idea was turning into a questionable one. It was hard to hear unless you were sitting very close, and frankly… I didn’t want to sit close to Benny. He made me nervous. And uncomfortable. The girl obviously didn’t share my reticence. She was giving him
that
look. The one that befell certain straight women who adored gay men. It was a cross between starry-eyed admiration and reverence. I did my best to keep my eye roll in check as I listened to their exchange.

“Do I know you? I don’t mean to be nosy, but where do you work?” she asked.

“In the Village at Johnny’s, and I just started over at Bowery Bagels. Maybe you’ve—”

“It’s must be Johnny’s. I was there last weekend with….”

I listened to her singing the Italian restaurant’s praises and idly decided this could work to my advantage. She could gladly take up what was left of my time here. I sipped my martini and checked my messages, in a zone until I heard her friend ask if she was ready to go. I watched them leave before taking a good look at Benny.

“You look… brighter than the last time I saw you,” I commented lazily as he swiveled to face me.

Benny smirked. It was a dangerous expression, not friendly in the slightest. I waited for him to let me have it. Instead, he waved to the bartender, who smiled and nodded in what looked like a silent communication. A moment later, Don set a fruity-looking drink in front of Benny, then pointed at his pink-tinged bangs and smiled broadly.

“Looking good. Anything else, Benny?” the bartender asked lasciviously.

Benny batted his lashes and chuckled. “No, thank you.”

Don grinned at him before turning to me. “I didn’t know you were waiting for this guy. I would have helped you score a table, man. Let me know next time.”

My brow was knit with confusion. Or irritation. I couldn’t tell yet. “How do you know Don?”

“I know lots of people. But don’t worry. You have my undivided attention for—” He checked the time on his cell before raising his glass in a mock toast. “—fifty-two minutes. Use it wisely.”

“Wisely, eh? You’re funny.”

“I try. So….” He took a sip of his drink and made a rolling motion with his hand, indicating I should start talking.

I really couldn’t think of a thing. I was gobsmacked and unprepared for… well, for him. I asked the first question that popped into my head.

“How old are you?”

“Speed dating for beginners! Slow down. You’re supposed to buy me a drink before you get too personal.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re trying to make me uncomfortable. You’ve turned up the volume and you want to see if I can take the extra dose of fabulous,” I stated with a slow grin. “I’m onto you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Right. Well, I’ll happily buy you a drink or two, but remember… this isn’t a date. It’s a—”

“Wrong. It’s a date. It’s supposed to be a date from hell. The ‘fuck that dipshit. I hope I never see him again’ kind of date. You’re doing a great job, by the way. I literally just walked in the door and you’ve already managed to be offensive in at least five different ways.”

I couldn’t formulate words quickly enough to catch up. I opened my mouth, then closed it before trying again. “How am I— What did I do?”

“You really don’t know, do you? Fine. I’ll play along. How do you like my shirt?”

“It’s loud.”

“What about my hair?”

“It’s pink.”

“See?”

“No, I don’t. I’m stating the obvious. I also think you did this for my benefit. You figured I’d take one look at your wacky getup and run.”

“You must like me. You’re still here,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes playfully.

“There isn’t enough room to make a clean getaway and”—I raised my glass in a toast—“there’s no sense wasting a good martini.”

“Touché.” Benny chuckled and took a sip of his cocktail.

“Why did you color your hair again? I thought you said you were going normal for a while.”

“I didn’t say ‘normal.’ That’s an ugly word. I said ‘au naturel.’ I tried it. It was boring. You like?”

“No. I like your hair the regular way. Without the colors. Why go to all the extra trouble? You look nice enough when you’re normal.”

“Wow. You did it again. You’re one of those dangerous types who shouldn’t be allowed to give compliments.”

“What?” I snorted.

“‘Normal.’ ‘Without color.’ ‘Nice enough,’” he huffed, managing to sneer at the same time. “Who wants to be any of those things?”

“Hey, I’m not insulting you. I’m only telling the truth.”

“According to whom?” he asked sarcastically.

“Most people.” I shrugged, reaching for my glass.

I swirled my martini lazily as I observed him. I admired his proud carriage and elegant mannerisms. I tried to picture him dressed more like me, without the dyed hair and cosmetics. He wasn’t overly made up, but I detected glitter around his eyes and a hint of gloss. I kind of liked that he wasn’t out to impress me in the slightest. He didn’t care about my looks, my money, or my job. The realization set me at ease in a way and stripped away my last reserve. Or maybe it was the second martini. Either way, in spite of what he said, this wasn’t a real date. It wouldn’t hurt to find out what made him quite so… fabulous.

Though at the moment the steely look in his eyes wasn’t encouraging. He looked pissed and seemingly at a loss for how to deal with my kind of stupid.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. Let’s start over. What d’ya say?”

Benny shot me an imperious sideways glance as he picked up his drink. “Fine. Try again.”

I gave him a mock dirty look and cleared my throat. “So… tell me about yourself.”

“My name is Ben—”

“I know your name. Tell me something I don’t know, like… how old are you?” I asked for the second time.

“Twenty-four. You?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Now what do we talk about for the next forty-seven minutes?”

“I don’t know. Just… talk.”

“Hmm. I have an idea. I’ll tell you something you’d never guess about me, then you do the same,
capisce
?”

“I think that’s more or less what I suggested, but sure…
capisce
.”

“Here goes… I’m an incredible bowler.”

“Bowler? Like ten pins and a bowling ball? That kind?”

Benny rolled his eyes. “Yes, that kind. I used to play in a league twice a week in Hoboken with my cousin Shirley. The commute got to be a pain, so I quit the team a year ago, but if I do say so myself… I’m pretty darn good.”

He was right. I didn’t expect that. His smug expression made me laugh.