I stared at the blinking cursor on the screen where I’d opened a return email and volleyed.
Red wire, blue wire, red wire, blue wire…
Goddamn, I couldn’t help myself.
Fuck it. I’ll cut both of them.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Subject: Re: I saw your video…
Greetings Lola,
I’m beyond interested to hear what “Sex” has to say about my perspective. I’m sure you’re fairly busy sticking your nose in all sorts of business, but I’m a busy guy myself—so it’ll have to be tonight. Bitters, Bock & Rye, 8 p.m.
Reed Luca
I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face as I pushed send, picturing her head damn near exploding as the challenge and insult in my words made impact. I obviously didn’t actually think she was a nosy, no-good busybody—at least, not in the malicious sense. But I had a feeling accusing her of being one would really get her goat, and fuck, I loved to incite reactions.
Other people go sailing or hiking or maybe take a kayak out in the Bay—I mess with people. Swear to God, it gives me all the adrenaline rush I need.
Conscious of the hour—and the stink of hours of manual labor seeping from my pores—I jumped up from the chair and headed for the shower, shucking my clothes as I went.
Years of people watching aided my attempts to construct a prototype of my new foe in my head as I turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. What kinds of expressions did she frequent, and how would she react to the sight of me? Would she seem stuffy and aloof, or would she confront me head on with open terms and little regard for consequence?
The variances in human nature fascinated me, and the more time I spent in this ever-changing world, the fewer outside of the box reactions I received. I wasn’t sure if it was the “we know what’s best for you” movement or a desperate need to succeed, but people very rarely surprised me by deviating from society’s carefully crafted rules—women, especially.
Women often worried about the impression they would leave or being too aggressive in the eyes of a man. They led with kind words and veiled insults rather than coming out and saying exactly what they wanted to say, and they sheltered the things they needed out of fear of being too needy.
I wouldn’t really describe it as bad—as I tend to believe everything in the world has a scale of balance and normalcy, no matter the circumstance—but I would describe it as unifying the herd. Fewer people saw options other than college or a nine-to-five, and fewer people strove for what they really wanted out of life. They worked hard for money, but unfortunately, hadn’t made even half the same progress toward fulfillment.
Steam rose from the flowing water as I stepped inside.
“Ow, fuck!” I shouted as it scalded me. “You might want to pay attention, Reed,” I scolded myself.
I hadn’t been this distracted by a woman in a while—as it really took something more than a hello and a bat of eyelashes to get my attention—and I hadn’t even met her.
We’d exchanged one email, but responding to her column so pointedly felt extremely personal. And I was getting the impression she felt the same way. Someone else might have let it go. But not her. She’d reached out nearly immediately.
Lathered and rinsed, I stepped out and rubbed a towel haphazardly over my body until only dampness remained, and I secured it around my waist. I moved back to the desk under the living room window at what I have to admit was a jog and woke up the screen on my computer to see if she’d responded.
Frankly, I hadn’t left her much time, sending the email at six for a meeting at eight, but if she were as connected to technology as my sister, she’d have read the email as soon as it arrived.
Sure enough, a new, freshly unopened email sat patiently waiting at the top of my email box. Well, actually, I wasn’t sure if an email with the subject “Hey, Dickface!” could be patient, but I’d given it the benefit of the doubt.
To: Reed Luca
From: Lola Sexton
Subject: Hey, Dickface!
Hello Reed,
If you want it to be tonight, I’m ready to rumble. Bitters, Bock & Rye, 8 p.m. I’ll be the one in the unicorn T-shirt, but I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize you by the huge dick on your face.
Sincerely,
Lola Sexton
P.S. I’m hungry, and it isn’t for perspective. Bring your wallet.
I clicked reply with a huge fucking smile on my face and started to type.
To: Lola Sexton
From: Reed Luca
Subject: Re: Hey, Dickface!
Greetings Lola,
There are so many underlying gems for me to enjoy in that email, but I’ll save the real enjoyment for our tête-à-tête in person. Bitters, Bock & Rye, 8 p.m.—it’s a date.