"I was just wondering how I did in the interview today," I told him.
"Oh, ruminating over things," he said with a grin. "I should have done this … or said that … "
I sat down in the chair while he and Bethany took the couch. Bethany was beautiful, there was no doubt, but I found her somewhat lacking in the brains department. I found that to be blaringly obvious now as she looked at Grant and said, "You should have done what, sweetie?"
"Oh no," Grant said. "I was talking to Erin."
"Well, excuse me," she said. "If you'd like me to leave while you tell her what you should have done or said … " I could tell that Grant was amused. The really amusing thing was that in about a week he would no longer be amused, but instead he would be annoyed. The shelf life on the long flouncy hair and the plastic boobs was about that long as far as he was concerned. He was a player, but I guess a single, gorgeous man in Manhattan at the age of twenty-five is supposed to be. It took my mind back to Seth. I wondered if he was a player.
Grant rolled his eyes at her and turned his attention back to me. "I'm sure you aced it," he said. "You are by far one of the smartest people I know." Bethany looked wounded and Grant just gave her a look that said, "Really?"
I had to stifle a smile as I said, "Thank you, Grant. It wasn't terrible … I don't know … I walked out of there thinking that I'd done a fantastic job. I just have the tendency to second guess myself in situations like this."
"Yes, you do," he said with a smile. "Historically, if you'll remember, it has been with no reason. You always excel. So, Bethany and I are going to grab some lunch. I don't have to be back to work until two. Come with us."
"I don't think so … "
"Why? Because you have so many more picture frames to adjust on the walls this afternoon?"
I laughed, he was right. I didn't have a single other thing to do today except for obsessing and that was going to help no one. "Okay. Let me change. I'll be right out."
As I was headed into the bedroom to change I heard Bethany say, "She would be a really pretty girl if she'd lose the glasses and the bun."
"With or without them," Grant said. "She's amazing."
The lunch with Grant and his girlfriend was nice. Bethany was not the brightest bulb on the tree, but she was sweet and funny … even when she wasn't aware that she was making a joke. Grant and I were cut from the same kind of cloth. We were both driven to succeed and we often forgot to be anything but serious. Bethany was fun and silly and she seemed to have the ability to make light of just about any situation. I'm sure that beyond her obvious, "assets" that was what attracted Grant to her. It was a nice afternoon, but it was only one. Grant was busy the rest of the week and everyone else I knew worked hard Monday through Friday so the rest of the week was excruciating.
By Friday night I had every closet, cupboard and drawer in the house neatly organized and without so much as a speck of dust in the corner. The laundry was done pretty much as soon as it got dirty. I watched more television than I had in an entire year and I was contemplating calling off my next week of vacation if I didn't hear back about the job soon. As I sat there watching Dateline and wondering why people get married if they're just going to have to worry about killing their spouse and covering it up, Grant burst through the front door.
"I need a drink."
I turned to look at him. He had on a black shirt that was unbuttoned slightly at the top and a pair of light wash jeans. His hair was as messy as ever and he had a sexy five o'clock shadow thing going on. I hadn't seen him when he got home from work; I'd gone to the grocery store for the third time that week. That was the other thing about being home all day, I was eating way too much. Since it was Friday night, I had just assumed he and Bethany were out.
"Bad date?" I asked as he rushed by on his way to the kitchen. I could hear him opening and closing cabinets.
"The worst." He slammed a few more cabinets and then finally asked, "Where is the vodka?"
"In the freezer," I told him.
I heard him open the freezer door and then say, "Hmm, why is it in the freezer?"
"It keeps it fresh."
"Okay then. You want one?"
"No, I didn't have a bad date," I called back. I heard the tinkle of ice cubes in a glass before he came back into the living room with a glass of clear liquid in his hand.
He stopped and leaned against the doorway that led from the living room to the kitchen and said, "No, you didn't. You obviously didn't have any date at all. What are you doing home in your pajamas at ten p.m. on a Friday night? You know you're only twenty-four years old, right?"
"I'm tired of bad dates," I told him. "And besides, this week I just don't have the energy." The truth about my love life was that I had trust issues when it came to men. My father died on me, James Hunter stole from me and my first serious boyfriend in college cheated on me. What was a girl to think?
Grant came over and sat down next to me on the couch. When he saw what was on the television he laughed and said, "Dateline? Are you sure you're only twenty-four?"
"Shut-up," I told him. "I just like to be well informed."
"Going stir crazy?"
"Oh my God I'm almost suicidal," I told him.
He laughed again and said, "You know there is this brilliant new device called a cellular phone. You don't have to sit home every day and night waiting for a call … you go out and you take the phone with you. If they call you it rings right there in your pocket or purse."
"You're hilarious," I told him. "I'm not staying at home because I'm afraid I'll miss their call."
He sat back and drained his drink, "Then why are you? You're gorgeous, you're young, and you're smart. You live in Manhattan … "
"Aren't you the guy who just busted in here complaining about the worst date ever?"
"Yes, but I at least went on a date. As a matter of fact it was with Bethany so technically I had a week of dates since nary a day went by that I didn't see her." I could tell by the way he said it that he was sure it would be their last date.
"So why was it so bad?" I asked him.
"We were at dinner at La Boulogne … "
"You took her to La Boulogne? I didn't know it was so serious."
"Oh be quiet! I told you last week that I was trying to change my ways. I thought since she'd been good to me I at least owed her a nice dinner. Now where was I?" Grant had history also of being kind of a cheap date. He got away with it because he had such a pretty face.
"You were at La Boulogne with Bethany … "
"Right, so we're there and first thing we see is my boss … "
"Your supervisor, Mick?"
"No, my boss. The boss! The CEO of the frickin' company."
"Wow, did he recognize you?"
"Yes he did. I see him every Monday morning in our staff meeting and I sat with him and his wife at the Christmas party. He knows me well. Anyways, he said hello and we introduced our dates and talked a bit … "
"Wait! Your dates? Didn't you just say he was married?"
"Mm hmm, it gets better," he said. "So we get to our table and I have to order her dinner … "
"Why did you have to order it for her?"
"Because she doesn't read French."
"The menu is in French?"
"No … I mean yeah, the French dishes are of course in French but … well, you know what I mean."
"Afraid so," I said. I could see that he was getting that she wasn't the sharpest tool. "That wasn't even the really bad part though."
"What was the bad part?"
"I'm getting to that," he said. "We get our food and I'm making conversation and I mention that my boss has a wife. Bethany says, Oh that's so nice that she lets him have time out with his friend." I laughed. I should have tried to explain to her that the "friend" didn't look like someone who kept up on business and finance. I seriously doubted that the girl knew he was married. By that time I had been explaining things to her all night, and I was worn out. Maybe I didn't do a very good job of stressing the part about discretion. Anyways, while we were waiting for dessert, she gets up and goes to the bathroom …of course passing right by my boss and his "date."