Stilettos & Scoundrels (9 page)

“Grande, non-fat, ext
ra shot, no whip latte,” I
said, walking up to the
counter
and order
ing
with practiced efficiency
.
“
O
h
,
with just a small shot of caramel
,
please.” The girl behin
d the counter just looked at me
, puzzled.

Brian whispered, “I don’t think they have all that fancy stuff
,
Pres.”

“Oh,” I said somewhat deflated. I
ordered from habit, not even looking at the menu board posted behi
nd the counter. I
had a bad coffee habi
t, addicted to the caffeine. I
rationalized drinking coffee by getting lattes; although more fattening,
I told herself that the milk would help me stave off osteoporosis. I
knew it was farfetched, but there had to be a grain of truth to it.
I was drinking milk I
otherwise wouldn’t
be drinking,
wasn’t
I
? Money spent now on lattes was
money I
would
n’t have to
spend later for medical care, although the prices at Starbucks were about as affordable as health care. Without a steady income right now, a twenty dollar a day coff
ee habit was something maybe I
ought to give up.

“How about a large
coffee with two creams and two Splendas?” I ordered on my second attempt. I
could do with this coffee
,
and i
t would be much cheaper than my
last order.

“No
S
plenda. Just equal and sweet ‘n low,”
t
he girl behind the counter said in a bored voice.

“Equal is fine.”
I
was starting to wonder if this coffee was even worth the trip. Or if stopping at the gas station would have been a better choice.

“I’ll just have a large black coffee,” Brian said.

I
looked at him and sighed.
I
knew judging him by his coffee choice
would
seem harsh
,
but the reality was
that
you could tell a lot about people by what they ordered. If a man ordered a black coffee and wasn’t sixty-five
, then by my
standards
,
that usually meant he was boring, boring, boring. On the other hand, if a woman ordered black coffee
, she was probably on a diet. I
knew that was a bit of a double standard,
but it was still true.

I
felt a little guilty about judging him that way
and resolved to give him another chance
.
I wanted to be
more open minded and tolerant
. I
sat across from him at a booth
that
look
ed
like it had once belonged to a Dunkin Donuts. It was a faded pink and orange. As
I
looked around,
I
realized that everything in
the cafe
was used.
What did they do, go to a bunch of going-out-of-business sales to furnish this place?
In a way
, it was somewhat cool. I
liked it.

Brian started talking to me
abou
t his mechanics business as we
sat sipping coffee, which was a surprisingly good, rich brew
.
My mind wandered
. I
t was hard to focus because I
had no idea what he was talking about and was distracted by
being in town again
.
I
looked around the Coffee Café at the other customers,
wondering if I
would see a familiar face or something interesting
.—something m
ore interesting than the car industry.

I
noticed Helen Dani
els, the wife of the Senator I
was in Alkon to interview, talking to
a much younger man I
didn’t recogniz
e.
Helen was even more attractive in person than she was in her pictures.
I
hadn’t seen her in person for years.
It wasn’t
fair
.
Helen was beautiful and rich
;
it seemed like you should have one or the other,
but not both. I
was jealous
.
I
was poor and only attractive on the days with low humidity
, a problem I
was sure Helen Daniels didn’t have
,
and if she did,
Helen
could probably afford to buy better humidity levels.
Then I
spotted
Tracy Wellison. I had science with Tracy my
senior year. She still had the same frizzy blond hair and green eyes, courtesy of colored contacts.
Didn’t that go out in the nineties?
I
wondered if she was still known as
W
illing Wellison, as she was aptly nicknamed in high school for her willingness to go with any guy as long as
he was on a sports team. I
smiled at the thought.

Brian glanced at me and must have thought I
was smiling at his conversation as if it w
as
really interesting, because he smiled back and continued talking. Something about a new type of fuel injector
that
only his shop ha
d
the computers to work on. Who knew that people needed computers n
owadays to work on cars? I
just heard blah, blah, blah...
Out of the corner of my
eye
, I
saw Helen Daniels arguing with the man
in her booth
. Now this was interesting. Maybe
I
could pi
ck up some juicy gossip for my
article. Who cared if it should be more of a factual human-interest story
?
P
eople wanted to hear all the juicy details
and
Trevor was aw
are of that when he offered me
the job. Therefore, he shouldn’t be surprised if some juicy gossip made its way in
to my article
. The man looked familiar
to me, but I couldn’t quite place him. I
interrupted Brian’s monologue to ask, “Hey, who’s that with Helen Daniels?”

He glanced over his shoulder to
answer my question
. “Him? That’s Tobey Stone. He works for the Senator’s
c
ampaign. I think he’s the Senator’s assistant or something like that. He’s the younger brother of Chris Stone. You remember him
,
don’t you?”

I
nodded. No wo
nder he looked familiar. I
went to school with Chris and vaguely remembered a younger brother who tagged along occasionally.
Tobey had been a few grades behind us, so I hadn’t
give
n
him
much thought
. More recently
though, I
had spoken to Tobey on the phone. Brian was right; he was the Senator’s assistant. Tobey was the one w
ho set up the appointment for my
interview with Senator Daniels.

“Why do you think he’s arguing with Helen Daniels?”

“How should I know
,
Pres?” Brian said
with an irritated shrug
, obviously not interested at all
and
continuing with his explanation of fuel injector technology
. How cou
ld he not be interested? I
loved people
watching
—t
rying to figure out what they did for a living or what their relationship was, if they were with someone, or at the very least
,
mak
ing
catty comments about the way they were dressed.
People watching could provide endless amusement.

“It doesn’t make you wonder why the Senator’s assistant and the Senator’s wife are sitting in a coffee shop arguing
?
Can you hear an
ything they are saying?” I
interrupted him again, even poking him to try to get his attention, but he continued talking about his stupid garage. “Listen to me
, Brian.” I
grabbed his arm impatiently.

“Presley
,
who cares
?
” he said, drawing out the words, annoyed with
me
. “It’s none of our business.”

“Besides the obvious fact that it’s interesting, I need to make it my business, Brian. I am writing an article about Senator Daniels. Therefore
,
it’s my responsibility to find out all I can about anything that might giv
e me insight about him” I
said indig
nantly. Even if I
w
asn’t writing an article, I
would feel justified. Really, if they wanted to keep the argument private,
they shouldn’t
have it in a public place.

“Figures,” he muttered.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean
?
”
Jackass.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Your almighty career is the most important thing to you. You can’t spend even a few minutes listening to someone else talk without thinking about yourself.”

I
just stared at him.
Seriously?
W
as he saying this?
He had
just talked about carburetors or fuel injectors or what the
hell
ever for the past twenty minutes, not even asking
me
if
I was interested or what I
ha
d been up to, and he was mad I
didn’t care to listen any longer? Wh
y did
most men
f
e
e
l it s
hould be all about them? I
had
listened to him long enough, o
r at least pretended to, and my
pretending
had been damn good. I
pretended to listen all the time
,
and no one ever knew the difference
, n
ot that they mentioned anyway. Brian hadn’t noticed until
I
had started asking him
unrelated
questions.

Back in each other’s company for less than two hour
s and already arguing. If I weren’t so annoyed, I
would find it funny. Human behavior could be very interesting.

“Brian, let’s not fight. Can’t we try to be friends? We’re not in high school anymore
,” I
felt compelled to point out. “Besides
,
what do you care? Can’t we just enjoy our coffee and conversation?”

“You know, I thought maybe you would be ready to settle down. That we could reconnect. Maybe get back what we once had. You and me, we were a good couple, Presley,” he said, reaching across th
e table for her hand. I
leaned back and just looked at him
, my
mouth gaping op
en, too shocked even to take my hand back. I
wanted to laugh, but thought
better of it when I saw his face. Even I
wasn’t that mean
.
T
his was twilight-zone stuff.
It
co
uldn’t be possible! What had my
mother been telling h
im? Was he still in love with me
after all this time
?
T
hat co
uldn’t possibly be right. Had my
mother offered him money to get back together with
me
? A scary thought
,
but a much more plausible explanation than him still having feelings
for me. Was there a dowry I
didn’t know about? How did that go? Marry my daughter and
get a cow and two chickens? I wouldn’t put it past my mother, although I wouldn’t expect my
dad to ever go along, if he knew about it, and either
option sounded horrible. I
looked at Brian’s face
;
he se
emed truly upset, and, while I
felt b
ad, it didn’t change things. I
hadn’t thought about him for years
,
and this was a complete shock, to say the least.
But I
was flattered
.
W
hat girl wouldn’t be
?
I
enjoyed the boost of self-esteem
. I
truly needed it, especially after this break up with Rick
. I
just hated
for i
t to be at the expens
e
of someone else’s feelings.