“Here- we have dinner set out. I’ll be back in an hour to take you through the gate procedures and then I’ll show you the new crowd control measures we’ve instituted.” Jamal didn’t enter the room and was gone before I could turn and thank him or say goodbye.
I took three steps into the impressive box and stopped, my eyes moving over the spacious apartment with unbridled wonder. It was very large. There was a full kitchen with a bar, several high-top circular tables and stools as wells as five rows of stadium leather seats facing a large picture window overlooking the stage.
A small buffet of fruit, green salad, hot dogs, hamburgers, condiments, barbeque potato chips, and canned soda was placed on the bar; this was not fancy food by any stretch of the imagination but two of my favorites happened to be represented: hot dogs and barbeque potato chips.
Quinn crossed to the steps leading down to the picture window and scanned the floor of the arena beyond.
I glanced at my watch and fiddled with the strap. I was having what my sister Jem called a champagne problem: a champagne problem is when something good happens but it interferes with something else, usually planned, which is either very important or also good. I wasn’t really sure what to do.
Quinn must’ve noticed my disquiet because he asked, “Are you hungry?”
I nodded, eyed the food, my stomach rumbled but I didn’t move.
“Is the food ok? I can order something else.”
“It’s just-” I twisted my mouth to the side. “It’s just that I actually have dinner plans for tonight.”
“With who?”
“With Steven from work and my friend Jon.”
“Jon.” Quinn repeated the name and shifted on his feet; his eyes moving between mine, “Isn’t that the name of your ex?”
I nodded, “Yes, it’s the same person. The three of us were supposed to go out to lunch but instead we moved it to dinner because I thought I’d miss lunch due to the training today and so-” I sighed, assuming the aloofness in his expression meant I was boring him, “Sorry, I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this. Anyway, I just need to call them and cancel for tonight.”
Quinn watched me for a moment; as usual his features seemed to be carefully expressionless. Then he said, “Are you and Jon back together?”
“Oh, no. We’re just friends now. But Steven wanted to see what an amiable break-up looked like so we were all going to get together for sustenance.”
“You still see this guy? Jon?”
“Mm-hm.”
“All the time?”
I unexpectedly felt like I was being interrogated. “No, not all the time. Just two or three times a week.”
Quinn’s eyebrows shot up, “Are you sure you’re not still dating this guy?”
“Yes. I’m sure. I think I would know if I were having sex with someone.” I bit my lip as soon as the words were out of my mouth; feeling very abruptly mortified, a remarkable blush spread its warm tentacles up my neck and behind my ears. I fiddled with the zipper of the portfolio.
We stood silently for several moments and I had to continue biting my lip to stem the tide of random sex-factoids which threatened to spill forth. I was annoyed by his questioning and even more annoyed with myself for feeling the need to answer.
I didn’t like that he knew every pithy detail about my lack of a love life but I knew absolutely nothing about him, whether he was seeing someone or had a girlfriend or a fiancé… or a wife.
Without really meaning to I glanced at his left hand; his third finger was bare. When I spoke I was surprised by the sound of my voice, “You’re not married.”
“Was that a question?”
I lifted my chin and met his gaze, hoping if I appeared confident then he wouldn’t notice my unending mantle of awkwardness, “No… Yes.”
“No. I’m not married.”
His response further aggravated me. I already knew he wasn’t married. When he didn’t continue I pressed him, “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What about you?” Either my empty stomach or annoyance augmented my confidence.
“What about me?”
“Are you having sex with anyone?”
His mouth fell open in obvious shock and he actually stuttered, “Wh- what- why do you want to know?”
“Well, you now know who I’m not having sex with. I think it’s only fair.”
He narrowed his eyes in a very hawk-like manner before answering, “I’m not dating anyone.”
I wrinkled my nose at him, “Well, that’s not an answer. I didn’t ask you if you were dating anyone, I asked you if you were having sex with anyone.”