Knitting in the City 01 Neanderthal Seeks Human (17 page)

I was sure my shirt and my face were the same color red. I hazarded a glance at him again through my lashes to find him watching me with no trace of his earlier amusement. I couldn’t read his expression which only served to further unsettle me. I turned completely away from Quinn and started walking toward the door; the single knot in my stomach had turned into a million man march of knots and I couldn’t quite bring myself to look at him anymore.

“I need to find a phone. I’ll be back.” I left my notepad on a high-top table and continued toward the exit.

I heard him take a step behind me, “Where is your phone?”

I waved him off, walking faster, “I left it at the office.”

I was almost out the door when I felt his hand close around mine and turn me around, “Janie, you should carry it with you.”

I pulled my hand from his and gained a half step back, “Well, you said you were the only person who would call me on it and since you and I are here, together, there is no reason for me to carry it.”

He frowned at me, “And when were you planning to pick up the phone before the weekend?”

“I wasn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest,

“Oh, are we spending the weekend together too?” He took a full step toward me. I was forced to lift my chin to maintain eye contact.

At his words my stomach felt like it was full of honey-drunk bees; I swallowed with effort and stated what I felt to be obvious, “As far as I know we’re not working this weekend. Why would you need to call me during non-business hours?”

He opened his mouth as though he were going to say something but then clamped it shut, his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth. His eyes were half-lidded and piercing. After a long moment he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to me, “Here, you can call your
friend
on this.”

I glanced at him, then the phone, then back at him again. Reluctantly I took the phone from his hand, “Thank you.” I muttered before I turned my back on him and dialed Jon’s number. For some reason it felt wrong to call Jon using Quinn’s phone, strangely deceitful. I pushed the discomfort aside, reminding myself that Jon and I were broken up and Quinn and I were co-workers. Co-workers could lend each other their phones. It was not unseemly. It was normal.

Jon’s phone rang four times then he answered with a somewhat hesitant, “
Hello?
”

“Hi, Jon, it’s me- Janie.” I took a few steps away from Quinn, keeping my voice low- although I didn’t precisely know why.

“
Hey- I didn’t recognize the number. Sorry I took so long to pick up. Are we all set for tonight?
”

“Um, that’s why I’m calling.” I glanced over my shoulder; in my peripheral vision I could see Quinn standing by the bar, facing me, a few feet away. “Listen, I have to work tonight so I can’t make it. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?”

“
Oh, ok. Well, that’s too bad
…” I could almost see Jon’s frown, I heard him sigh, “
What time for tomorrow?”

“Do you already have plans? Don’t cancel your plans, we can always-”

“
Janie, I want to see you. Of course I’ll cancel my plans. You come first
.”

I felt my throat tighten,
half from frustration half from guilt, and I walked a few more steps away from Quinn; I was careful to keep my voice low but still above a whisper, “Jon, you can’t say things like that.”

I was acutely aware of Quinn’s presence and, as though sensing my discomfort, I heard him say quietly “I’ll be back.” He walked by me and out of the private box.

“Who was that? Are you with someone?”
Jon’s tone changed slightly, his voice rising, “
Janie, is this really about work?”

It was my turn to sigh, “Jon, I am at a site visit with one of my coworkers-”

“A male co-worker?
”

“Yes- in fact- if you want to get technical about it, I’m here with literally dozens of male co-workers.” I rolled my eyes.

“
And you are all working late? Where are you
?”

“I can’t tell you that, you know I signed a non-disclosure agreement. I can’t tell you about any of my clients.” I spun around and stalked to the other side of the room.

“
This is ridiculous. No one ever works late on a Friday night
.
If you would just let me take care of you-
”

“Jon-” I hoped he heard the warning in my voice.

“
You know what, fine. Fine. You have to
work
late, I get it
.” He sounded frustrated yet resigned, “
I still want to see you tomorrow. Listen, I’m sorry- I’m sorry. Can we just start over? I want to meet your friend Steven. Can’t we just meet for dinner tomorrow and have a good time?
”

I stared unseeingly at a spot on the wall, my guilt winning over my frustration, “Yes-” I turned as I heard movement from behind me. Quinn reentered the room, gave me a brief once over, then turned to the buffet of food. “Yes- that sounds good, we’ll try to make tomorrow work. I’ll call Steven next and see if he is available. Listen, I- I need to go.”

“
Ok, Let me know if you need anything, money or anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Bye Jon.”

“
I love you, Janie. Don’t forget that
.”

I closed my eyes, my mouth curving into a frown. I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” and hung up.

I punched Steven’s number into the cell and only had to wait one ring for him to pick up, “
Mr. Sullivan?”

“No, no- it’s Janie. Listen, we’re still at the site and I have to work late so that means dinner is off for tonight.” The words came out in a rush; Quinn crossed in front of me to a table, two plates in his hand, the smell of hot dogs making my mouth water.

“
Oh…
” I heard Steven audibly shuffle papers on the other end of the phone, “
Wait a minute, where are you
?”

“I’m-”

“
You know what, scratch that. I don’t want to know. No problem about tonight. We’ll reschedule for after the Vegas trip
.”

“Can you get together tomorrow for dinner instead?” Without really meaning to I walked closer to where Quinn sat eating his food. I watched him take a large bite of his hamburger. His jaw flexed, the muscles in his cheeks and neck were strangely mesmerizing. I may have been staring.

“
Sorry, no can do babycakes. I’ve got a hot date
.”

Movement from the suite door pulled my attention from Quinn; I watched with perplexed interest as two girls entered, both wearing skin tight t-shirts, which showed off their mid-drifts, and too short shorts. They each carried a tray laden with what looked like various glasses of alcoholic beverages.

“Um-” I was distracted by the presence of the girls and had to refocus on my conversation with Steven, “Um- that’s ok. We’ll just reschedule then.”

“
Ok, sweetums. I’ll see you on Monday. And don’t let Mr. Bossy make you work too late
.
Buh-bye.
”

Before I could respond Steven’s line clicked off. I let the hand holding the phone drop to my side and watched as one of the girls- who I shall call Girl#1- carried three large glasses, filled with what I assumed was beer, over to Quinn as the other girl- who I shall call Girl#2- unloaded the other glasses from the trays onto the bar. Girl#1 smiled at Quinn. It was what I recognized as a take-my-panties-off smile. My sister June used it quite frequently on members of the football team when we were in high school. It made me glower.

Much to my surprise and relief, Quinn didn’t seem to notice her smile. Instead he offered a curt, “Thanks.” and immediately lifted one of the beers to his mouth, taking a long drink. Girl#1 loitered at his table, watching him. I loitered at one side of the room, watching them. Girl#2 loitered by the bar, watching us all.

After a short moment, Quinn looked from Girl#1 to Girl#2 then briefly to me. He shifted on his seat then dismissed them, “I’ll let Jamal know if we need anything else.”

I didn’t miss the disappointed frown cloud over Girl#1’s face as she left. I also had some difficulty explaining to myself the small smile tugging at my lips when the door closed. I stood in place, Quinn’s phone still in my hand, and continued to watch him eat. He took big bites. Every time he took a bite it was like 25% of the hamburger went missing. I think he actually finished it in four bites.

I was abruptly pulled from my musings by the sounds of his voice, “So, you finished your calls?”

I blinked at him then nodded, “Yes. Yes, calls all finished.” My thumb moved over the smooth screen of his phone. I moved to intercept his table and placed his cell on the surface, “Here is your phone. Thank you again for letting me use it.”

“Anytime.” his eyes moving over me in that way he sometimes employed: a plain, open assessment. It always made me uncomfortable and warm and flustered. He lifted his chin toward the bar, “I don’t know what you
drink so I ordered a few things.”

I moved my attention to where he indicated and scanned the glasses sitting on the end of the bar; “Should we-” I cleared my throat and motioned with my hand toward the three glasses of beer in front of Quinn, “should we be drinking while we’re working?”

Quinn took a bite of his hotdog and shrugged, “We’re not working now.”

“But we’re not done, we still have the review of new crowd control measures and-”

Quinn interrupted me with a wave of his hand, “I spoke to Jamal. That part of the tour is off, we’re done for today.” As though to emphasize this fact, Quinn took a long swallow from his glass, finishing another third of the contents before he set it down.

“Oh.” I blinked. I was befuddled and when I am befuddled I tend to speak my thoughts as they occur to me rather than engage in an internal dialogue like a normal person, “So that means I didn’t need to cancel my dinner plans?”

Quinn’s jaw ticked, his mouth was curved into a frown, “I guess not.” he placed three chips in his mouth and made a loud crunching sound as he chewed. His eyes were trained on me as his jaw worked and I felt a now familiar anxiety under the piercing weight of his gaze.

“Well then-” I cleared my throat, “I should call Jon back and see if we can still get together.” I said the words but I didn’t particularly want to follow through on the action. I stalled by glancing at my watch.

“Or,” Quinn leisurely reached over and plucked his cell phone from the table, slipping it into his pocket, “you could stay here and enjoy the concert with me.”

I lifted my wide eyes to his, “You’re staying for the concert?”

He nodded.

I opened my mouth to ask if we were allowed to stay but then thought better of it. I contemplated the current state of things. I contemplated Quinn; he looked relaxed yet somehow on edge. It also struck me again at that moment how startlingly, painfully handsome he was. A fresh stab of
awareness sliced through me and, abruptly, I desperately wanted something to drink. Pulling my attention away from him I eyeballed a martini glass on the bar filled with a bright yellow liquid and lemon twist garnish; the rim was coated with either salt or sugar, or salger (sugar + salt).

I crossed to the bar and lifted it toward him, “What’s this?”

“That’s a lemon drop.”

I picked it up and sniffed it. It smelled good. “What’s in it?”

“Lemon juice, sugar, and vodka.”

“Vodka?”

“My sister, Shelly, says it tastes like lemonade.” Quinn took a large swallow of his beer, finishing it, and reached for the second glass next to his plate.

I thought about mixing vodka and Quinn; it would make
Quodka
, which sounded to me like some sort of Bulgarian card game involving gangsters and prostitutes. I put the lemon drop back on the counter and motioned to his glasses of beer, “Are there any more beers?”

“These aren’t beers, they’re boilermakers- beer and whiskey.”

My eyebrows lifted of their own accord; “Oh.” was all I could think to say.

Considering my options, I took a sip of the lemon drop. It didn’t exactly taste like lemonade but it was delicious. I moved to the buffet and picked up a plate with my free hand. However, before I could start heaping on piles of potato chips Quinn’s voice stopped me.

“I fixed you a plate already. It’s over here on the table.”

I turned to face him; “Oh.” was again all I could think to say.

I put the empty plate back in its place, picked up a second martini glass full of the bright yellow liquid, and crossed to where Quinn was sitting; I slid on to the stool opposite him. The plate he’d fixed contained two hot dogs with generous amounts of both ketchup and mustard, a cornucopia of berries, and a perfect portion of barbeque potato chips.

I smiled at the plate, my stomach rumbled again, and took another sip of the lemon drop before setting both glasses down, “That is exactly how I like my hotdogs.”