“I bet I could get the engine to purr so goddamn loudly,” I counter.
She raises a dark eyebrow and runs her finger along the edge of her cocktail glass. “I have no doubt.” She brings the glass to her lips and finishes off the dregs of her mojito. Then, she’s all serious. “So where should we meet? We should start on neutral ground to hammer out the details. Not at one of our shops.”
“Makes sense. So, you’re thinking Yankee Stadium?”
“Ha. More like Bloomingdale’s.”
“In the dressing room?” I toss back.
“Hey, how many babies do you think were made in dressing rooms?”
“In Bloomingdale’s? In New York City? Throughout the history of time?”
“All of the above.”
“Countless, tiger, countless.” And somehow we’re flirting again. “And Bloomingdale’s is a no-go.”
She taps her finger against her chin. “Maybe the M&M store. All the candy will help us be nice to each other.”
I laugh. “Or the New York Public Library then, since we won’t be able to yell.”
It’s her turn to laugh.
Then, an idea strikes me, and I tell her my plan.
Her eyes sparkle. “I like that. I’ve never been on a big boat before.”
“Then we’ll pop your cherry tomorrow.”
“Like a virgin no more.”
Yeah, we’re still flirting. I almost have no idea why we keep doing this, except for the obvious — it feels really fucking good.
14
Henley’s To-Do List
* * *
—Meet with lawyer.
* * *
—Ask John if we can really pull this off.
* * *
—Research drivetrain on Lamborghini Miura. Love that car hard!
* * *
—Figure out why I hate Max so much.
* * *
—Then figure out why I also don’t hate him.
* * *
—Blow-dry hair in that new way, with the wavy curls . . . because . . . I know why. :)
* * *
—No!!
* * *
—Just no!
* * *
—He probably won’t even notice my hair.
* * *
—Stop flirting with him.
* * *
—Really. I mean it.
* * *
—Don’t tell me it’s tempting.
* * *
—Woman-up and stop.
* * *
—Tomorrow. Stop tomorrow.
* * *
—No more innuendos. No more double meanings. No more metaphors for sexy times.
* * *
—Discuss other things with him.
* * *
—Ideas: hedgehogs, should guys be allowed to wear tank tops, merits of crunchy vs. soft-shell tacos, where do all the mismatched socks go, and how does David Copperfield pull off that crazy guessing trick.
* * *
—GUYS SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO WEAR TANK TOPS. PERIOD. EVER.
15
When Henley and I board the Staten Island Ferry the next day, I decide this will be a good time to practice not checking her out, not staring, not wondering how she’d look if I peeled those sinfully tight jeans off her lush frame.
I think instead about the boat. How big it is. How many people it can hold. How hot the engine gets. Not how lovely she looks as she walks across the deck to the railing, her hair a little different today, with lush waves near the ends.
We grab a spot by the big yellow metal railing, parking our elbows on it. We have a round-trip to Staten Island and back to figure out where to start on the car. We chat for a few minutes about basic features of the Lambo as more passengers board. Soon, the boat pulls away, and the breeze lifts her hair. It’s long and wavy, and I want to run my fingers through those curls. Right now, though, her hair smacks her mouth, so she grabs a hair-tie from her wrist, and pulls it back while we talk about options for wheels and hubcaps.
As the ferry chugs across the water, cutting a path in its wake by the Statue of Liberty, we stop talking and watch the water for a few minutes. It feels natural and easy. She stares into the distance, as if she’s contemplating deep thoughts. It’s a new side of her. I’ve seen her fiery side, I’ve seen her flirty side, I’ve even seen her vulnerable side in snippets, and now I’m seeing something calmer. It’s fascinating because it’s so not her. Like watching a cat walk on its hind legs.
“I like big boats so far,” she announces.
“Good to hear.”
She raises her chin in Lady Liberty’s direction. Her hands wrap tightly around the railing. “Do you ever think about how David Copperfield made that disappear?”
I jerk back, surprised by her random question. “I can honestly say I’ve never thought about that.”
“I have,” she says in an almost wistful tone. “In this one special he made the statue completely disappear. Poof. I get that it’s magic and illusion, but I want to know how he did it. Did you ever see his show live?”