Promise Me (5 page)

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"The whole Alex thing. You're not blind, right?" I must look hopelessly lost since she sighs at my confusion and says, "Sabrina, you're super hot."

I've been told I'm good looking, beautiful even, and not to toot my own horn, I do know that I'm not hard on the eyes, but hot? Correction... super hot? I don't think so.

"Seriously," pausing for emphasis, "have you looked in the mirror today? All you need is a pair of glasses and you'd be every fifteen year old boy's wet dream. You look like that chick in the "
Hot for Teacher
" video, except for the hair color."

I look down at myself, a bit uncomfortable now thanks to Julia's vivid description of fifteen year old boys masturbating. I'm wearing a black pencil skirt that reaches just above my knee with a capped sleeve, white pin-tuck shirt that is tucked and kept in place with a black patent leather belt. My toes are slightly peeking out of my favorite matching black patent leather pumps. I've never been a big jewelry person, so I've decided for the bare minimum today, diamond studs, a gift from my parents after graduating from high school. My auburn hair is in a low pony tail at the nape of my neck with side swept bangs. "Are you kidding me? And by the way, thanks so much for the mental image, I've lost my appetite now."

"Nope, and that right there is yet another reason I'm sure Alex is dying to get into your pants. He knows that you have no idea of how hot you are. It's a turn on for a guy like him. A conquest, if you will," she says between sips. "Look at yourself for crying out loud, with those curves, that hair, and your green eyes. I've said it before and I'll say it again, your mom must have fucked a gypsy to get you."

This rant is annoyingly familiar. Julia swears that I'm of gypsy blood. I've tried countless times to explain how I take after my mother's side of the family which is mostly of Greek origin, but she likes to tease me about my "gypsy" blood, convinced that I was either, a. left on my parents doorstep by a group of gypsies, or b. my mother bedded an actual gypsy to conceive me. Instead of encouraging her any further on this issue, which would undoubtedly lead to her singing a few bars of "
Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves
," I just roll my eyes and try to change the subject.

"Enough with the Alex talk, there are more pressing matters at hand. Case in point, Lisa. What should I say if she actually calls me?"

"Yeah, that kind of sucks that she got the jump on you," she says as she wipes her mouth with her napkin and then proceeds to throw it on top of her plate. She signals to the waiter with the universal sign for, "bring me the check, please" before continuing.

"You have two options. One, you can talk to her and find out once and for all why she did what she did and then tell her off. Or two, you don't answer her and just show up at the reunion, where obviously she's going to want to talk to you, and then you can tell her off in person."

If I decide to answer her call she's going to want to rehash the past and explain everything. If I don't answer her call, then I'm going to be forced to deal with her at the reunion with a lot of witnesses. I'm not big on confrontation, so I'm not exactly fond of either option. The last time I had a confrontation was with the dry cleaner and that ended up with me paying for the bill even though they shrunk my favorite pair of black slacks. Julia thinks I'm a bit of a pushover, but I think it's just easier to move on and forget about it.

"How about I just cross that bridge, when and if, she actually calls me?"

"Whatever, it's your reunion, not mine," she says and hands the waiter her credit card. After signing the receipt she walks me to my car which is parked on the street before walking back to her office which is just a few doors down from the restaurant.

Julia runs a small event planning company that was previously managed by her father. Since his retirement a couple of years ago, he handed over the reins to his only daughter, only to see the company flourish under her leadership. She's really good at what she does and it shows. Her clientele list is growing and her events have been heralded in the local paper. She's also been spotlighted on one of the local TV stations as an up and coming "Miamian to watch". I've actually been able to get Alex to use her services to promote exhibits at the gallery a few times, including the latest one we are working on.

Returning to the gallery, the rest of my day is pretty uneventful. I meet with the new artist for the next exhibit and finish up some other miscellaneous tasks. After lunch I had turned off my cell phone just in case Lisa decided to call me. Pulling the phone out of my purse, I turn it back on and notice the time, almost six-thirty, more importantly, there are no messages. Turning off my monitor, I throw the phone back into my purse and grab my keys. I walk out my office door and right into Alex, knocking my purse to the floor and spilling all its contents every which way.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."

"Not your fault. I was just checking to see if you were still here actually," he says as he bends down to retrieve my belongings.

"You don't have to do that," I say then bend down to start picking up items and chuck them back into my purse as quickly as possible. I look up at him when he hands me the last item, of all things, a tampon. I'm beyond mortified. If the ground could possibly open up at this moment and swallow me, I'd welcome it. I yank it out of his hand and shove it in my purse as if it were a stick of dynamite. Standing up, I try to smooth out the wrinkles in my skirt with my hands while I tell him good night and walk around him.

"Sabrina, wait. I was just coming by to see if you'd like to have a drink with me tonight?"

This is where Julia would come in handy. Her overabundance of confidence would help in this kind of situation. I, on the other hand, am a bumbling idiot. "A drink?" God, if she was here she'd probably smack me on the back of the head. As if it had a mind of its own, my hand dives into my purse and grabs my keys to keep them occupied.

"Yes, a drink. Turns out I'm going to be out on a business matter all day tomorrow, so I was hoping to discuss some things with you now," he says and his eyes pick up on the keys I'm nervously twirling around my finger. When he looks back up at me he smiles then points in the direction of the gallery's front door. "Shall we?"

We walk out the front doors of the gallery, and while he's locking up, his phone begins to vibrate. Excusing himself for a moment to answer the call, I take the opportunity to text Julia.

Going for a drink with Alex. See u later.

If there was a world record for return texts, Julia broke it in what felt like a millisecond.

Hells yeah!

I shake my head, giggling at her response and put my cell phone back into my purse just as Alex reaches me. "Is everything okay?" He asks.

"Oh, yeah, I just wanted to let Julia know that I'd be later than usual getting home." Satisfied with my response he leads us towards the bar a couple of doors down from the gallery.

Rio Station is one of my favorite after work spots. Formerly known as Zeke's, it's most popular for its beer menu. From the most exotic to the most common brands, it's guaranteed to be there. Aside from the few tourists that frequent the place it still has that "regulars" kind of feel to it. For being located in one of the trendiest areas in South Beach, the inside is more simple than most. With its plain old long oak bar and weathered bar stools, to the few flat screen televisions, it's definitely cozier than the usual fare around here. A few of us from the gallery end up going there every couple of weeks to people watch while seated in the outdoor patio because you never know who or what you might see. As we make our way through the crowd seated outside, Alex puts his hand lightly on the small of my back to lead me inside. It's not like he's never done this before but for some reason, tonight… it feels different. If I'm being honest with myself, I don't know if I like it or not. Before I can really start psychoanalyzing the hell out of it, he pulls his hand away and motions towards the bar. Grabbing two seats at the far end, I notice that the jukebox is playing one of my favorite bands.

"Do you like Pink Floyd?" I ask him while he's trying to get the bartender's attention. "I do," he answers without looking at me. When the bartender finally reaches our end of the bar, he orders me a glass of Pinot Grigio and a foreign beer that I've never heard of for himself.

"How did you know that's what I wanted to drink?"

He turns slightly in his chair, locking eyes with me. "I pay attention."

Holy shit! With just that one little statement, I'm starting to question if this was a good idea to begin with. I am so out of my league here it's not even funny. The juke box is ironically playing "
Comfortably Numb
", perfectly capturing how I feel at this moment since I can't come up with anything to say back to him.

"So tell me about this new artist who's signed on for the exhibit?" He asks when our drinks arrive. I take a sip of my wine and proceed to tell him about the meeting I had with the artist earlier in the day. He makes comments every so often, but for the most part he lets me talk, and seems genuinely interested in what I have to say. Just as I'm finishing up my glass of wine, he's already motioning for the bartender again. I hear my cell phone vibrate in my purse and his one eyebrow rises in amusement.

"Julia checking up on you again?" I laugh at his comment, while digging my cell phone out of my purse, knowing he's probably right. Instead, I freeze when I see a phone number I'm not familiar with but has a 610 area code, my hometown.

"Sabrina, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," he says. My mind scrambles through a variety of ways to tackle this. I can answer the call and just get it over with. The thought of talking to Lisa here, right now, doesn't particularly appeal to me. Like, at all. I can excuse myself but that idea doesn't win me over either. Somehow I know I'm just not ready to deal with her. Especially here with Alex just a few inches away from me. Whatever happens during this call will undoubtedly affect me. I mean, ten years is a long time not to talk to the very person who betrayed you without a second thought. Deciding to ignore the call for now and strategize my next move, it stops ringing. A few seconds later it vibrates again alerting me to a new voice mail.

"Sabrina?"

"Yes," I say with an obvious shakiness in my voice and turn to face him, "I'm fine, just... I should really be going home." I stand up and go to grab my purse. "Thank you for the drink."

He takes my hand, effectively stopping me in my tracks and says, "You don't look alright to me and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you leave me like this. Please just sit and tell me what that was about." He motions to the now empty bar stool next to him and lets go of my hand. Nervously, I take my seat again and instinctively grab my glass of wine for some liquid courage. Finishing its contents, I put the glass back down on the bar. It didn't help. I'm still in a tailspin over the call and whatever it is she may have left for me to hear. Glancing to my left I see Alex in rapt attention, waiting for me to continue.

"Do you need more," he says pointing to the empty glass in front of me.

"Yes, no, I mean no. No, I don't. I'm really okay, Alex. I'll be fine," slightly flustered now since he's already alerting the bartender for another round.

Before I can say another word, the bartender puts another glass of wine in front of me. Alex takes a sip of his beer, all the while keeping his eyes on me. It's really disconcerting at this point; he is my boss, why would he want to know so much about me? Unless of course, Julia is right and there is more to his flirting than I previously had given credit to. Either way, I can't tell him about this. He'll think I'm certifiable. I need to put an end to this right now before the alcohol gives me the mental green light.

"I'd really rather not get into it right now," I say to him, "I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I'll be fine."

"Sabrina," he pauses, putting his bottle on the bar and turning completely around in his seat to face me again, "you've worked for me for the past two years, right?" I nod, trying to avert his eyes, but he doesn't let me. He takes my hand again and squeezes it softly. "I know I'm your boss, but I hope that I'm not being too forward by saying that I'm really interested in knowing more about you."

My stomach is in knots. Scratch that. I feel like a twisted up pretzel in a contortionist's dream. My pulse is racing and my mouth has dropped open. With his free hand, he taps lightly once on my chin, forcing me to close my mouth as his lips curl up in a smile.

"Alex, I'm flattered, but..."

I let go of his hand and try to regain my composure. I push my seat away from the bar and abruptly stand up to leave. "Good night and thank you for the drink."

I'm suffocating; I need to get out of here as quickly as possible. Rushing through the people in the bar, I'm also hoping he doesn't follow me. The panic flowing through my veins is at an all time high as a couple of people step aside and I see the front door like a beacon ahead of me. The air outside hits my lungs and I'm finally able to breathe. Taking in quick breaths of the salty air around me, I look right, then my left before setting on foot down the block towards my car. If I'm being honest with myself, I'm not sure whether it was Lisa's phone call or Alex's disclosure that has me reeling. Once I'm sitting in my car, I pull my cell phone out of my purse and stare at it as if it's going to explode in my hands. I can't bring myself to listen to the message just yet. Throwing it carelessly on my passenger seat, I start my car and head home.