Wrong Place, Right Time(90)
Saw your message on the site here. Would you like to meet for a drink? The message is automatically signed with my username: nola4evr.
I pause only a few moments before clicking the Send button. I have nothing to lose, right? Maybe just a little bit of my pride, but I don’t have a whole hell of a lot of that left over. Apparently I don’t need much of it to survive.
I sit there for a little while wondering what I should do next, and then catch a whiff of my stink-breath. “Whoa.” My next step becomes very clear. Time to get ready for work. A little thrill runs through me as I realize that I actually have a job to go to. Not bad for a girl who was laid off on Monday.
Just as I’m about to log off the website, I hear a beep, and a little window pops up. Inside the little window is a heart that looks like it’s beating. My pulse jumps when I realize that someone has responded to my message. I read the response as my anxiety builds.
Sounds great! Where?
I respond without thinking.
Not sure exactly where you live, but how about Harry’s Harborside Tavern?
I’m not sure what to do next. What is the protocol for a first date generated on a website? Do I thank him? Do I ask him what he’s going to wear? I feel like a complete dweeb.
Saturday? 7 PM? he asks.
That’s fine, I say back, assuming my sister will babysit for me when she hears I have a real, live date.
Perfect. See you then. I’ll be the guy in the blue shirt.
Should I say something about what I’ll be wearing? I have no idea what that’ll be yet. Will that make me seem flaky? Oh well. I might as well stick with honesty as my best policy at this point. In the event I do hit the lottery and pick a great guy right off the bat, I don’t want him to fall for somebody I’m not. I’m not one of those cool girls who always knows what to say at exactly the right time. I’m better off keeping it short and sweet.
Ok. See you then.
Satisfied that I have now fulfilled the terms of my deal with Dev, I head upstairs to my bathroom to undo the mess that last night’s attempted sleeping had on my hair and face. With enough makeup, I might be able to hide the ravages suffered by this worried mom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I shouldn’t be nervous. I know these people I’m about to have a meeting with, at least a little bit. I worked overnight with Lucky. Hell, I’m going out to dinner with Dev tonight after cruising a dating site with him. But I’m sitting here in the parking lot, palms sweating, with my cute little briefcase next to me and my laptop all packed up and ready to go.
What if my report is too amateurish? What if I haven’t given them enough detail? What if I’ve given them too much detail? There’s no way for me to know if I’ve put this thing together correctly, because I’ve never done anything like it in my entire life. Sure, I’ve attended plenty of meetings with some pretty high-ranking executives present, but I was always having conversations with people who speak the same language as I do.
I worry about being too technical with these non-geek coworkers, but also about not being technical enough. I don’t want them to think I’ve oversimplified my report just so they can understand it. My goal is to strike the right balance between completely geeking out and dumbing it down.
A vehicle pulls up next to me and the main door to the warehouse begins to open, telling me whoever is in the car has a remote. The driver’s-side window of the dark SUV opens and Toni is there. She nods at me first and then at the door. I’m not sure what she means, though. Is this a cool-girl greeting? Does she want me to get out of my car? Is she daring me to drive in first? I don’t want to look completely stupid and guess the wrong thing.
She rolls her eyes at my lack of action and gestures for me to roll down my window.
Once my window is down, her words come in loud and clear. “You should follow me in. Park inside.”
“How come?” Being in there behind a locked door I don’t know the combination to will make it much harder for me to leave when I’m ready. They’re probably going to want to discuss my report after I’ve gone, and it will be a hassle for someone to come and enter the code to let me out.
“Because,” she says, annoyed, “we like to stay incognito here. Parking outside tells people who’s here.”
“Oh. Okay.” I have nothing left to say to her about that, but the specter of that risk has risen again, niggling at my conscience. Am I doing the right thing by being here? By thinking about working with them on a more permanent basis?
I don’t have time to figure it out right now. Toni has pulled in and is expecting me to follow her. As I drive forward and find myself drawn into the darkness of the warehouse, I realize that we’re not the first ones here; there are several cars parked inside, including May’s and Dev’s. As I park and shut off my engine, I hear barking. Sahara and Felix are bounding down the stairs to greet us.