The Meridian Gamble (4 page)

Luckily, I’ve worn one of my sexier
suits to work today, a beige one that hugs my figure nicely. Before I leave my
office, I put on the magenta silk blouse I bought at Saks on my lunchtime
shopping spree. It will dress up the outfit a bit. And as I pass by the
mailroom again on my way to the bathroom to check my make-up, one of the mail
boys follows me out into the hall. It’s Edison, a pint-sized womanizer from
Ecuador with jet-black hair, and a tight little body that came from playing
professional soccer before he arrived in New York.

I can feel his eyes on my ass as I
walk down the hall.

“Woo-hoo, Sexy. Going somewhere fun
tonight? Can I come along?”

I turn back, and he’s biting his
tongue in a silly way, looking into the mailroom, no doubt giggling with a
co-worker who’s actually doing something productive.

“Sorry, Edison. I like men, not
little boys.”

I can hear him squeal in dismay,
but I duck into the bathroom before I have to hear too much of his noise. And I
look in the mirror, to survey the situation.

I don’t have time to do much with
my hair. But it’s black and curly and hangs to my shoulders, and I fluff it out
a bit to give it some volume. I’m not one to wear much make-up, but I’m not
what you would call a ravishing beauty either, so I need a bit of help. I put
on mascara, to try to make my eyes pop, and add some red to my lips, hoping the
look will pass for sexy. I unbutton my blouse an extra button. Luckily, I have
big boobs and a round Latina ass, features that appeal to men sometimes. More
than sometimes, actually, which would be great if I wasn’t so picky.

I take the subway to Greenwich
Village, and finally find “Downtown Pub.” Of course, it’s one of those trendy
new places that everyone is raving about, which is the only kind where Staci
likes to go, so she can be “seen.” It has what looks like polished wood boards
all over the front of the space, with its name cut into a plank over the door,
and neon lights that illuminate the letters from beneath. I hope its going to
be funky or fun, or God forbid different, but when I get inside I can see it’s
just another typical bar with a few pool tables, and yuppies and hipsters
crammed from wall to wall. Or maybe it’s a bit more upscale than that. There
are some booths with actual taps built into them, which is kind of unique, but
I’m still not impressed.

They had better at least have some
disgustingly unhealthy appetizers, I think to myself. Preferably ones that
Staci’s flunkies will buy.

I spot her at a tall table near the
back of the bar, and my stomach does a flip-flop. She’s already sitting with
two young guys in business suits, who look like typical advertising sharks. And
now I have to approach them. I hate the feeling of meeting new people almost
more than anything in the world. There’s a part of my personality that is
essentially shy, but I tell myself I need to buck up and press on. I’m not
getting any younger, and I won’t get anywhere in the world if I’m timid. I
certainly won’t meet Mr. Right.

I plaster on my most convincing
fake smile and push my way through the crowd. I slide up to their table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Staci’s face lights up when she
sees me. I wonder if she’s tired of making forced conversation on her own, or
just wants to seem bubbly and popular.

“Oh, Jack … Darcy. This is my
friend, Meridian.”

“Meridian Gutierrez,” I say,
offering my hand. “But most everyone just calls me ‘Meri.’”

“Meridian? That’s an unusual name. Is
it Hispanic?”

“No, I’m not sure where my mother
got it from,“ I say, as I shake their hands. “I think she just wanted to make
sure I’d always have something I could use to make conversation.”

And the guys laugh, which is always
a good start. I slide up onto one of the stools, wishing my skirt wasn’t so
tight. And they stare at me like I’m a fresh piece of meat that’s just been
thrown down on a platter.

I don’t know what I was expecting
or hoping to find, but just looking at these two guys makes me depressed. They
look like the same jerk hotshot executives from the office, the kind who are
only interested in getting ahead and getting laid. The kind of guys that I
hate.

One has thinning hair, and skin
that’s just a bit pasty. His round head and long neck remind me of a light
bulb, or maybe a duck, but he wears a smug smile of self-importance that makes
me think he’s blind to his own limitations. The other has thick locks that are
lacquered into place with too much gel, and suitably bland features that could
pass as handsome. And he has big Chiclet teeth that gleam brightly when he
smiles. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t think he was cute.

I only wish I had listened more
closely when she introduced them. I’m hoping the hot one is Jack, because the
other guy just isn’t my type.

“So, Meri,” the hunky one says. “What
do you do at Creative Quorum?”

“I’m in Human Resources.”

“Why is it all the hotties work in
Human Resources?”

“Do they? Is that the reputation HR
has? I thought all the hot girls work in the Creative Division.”

“That too. But maybe HR is so sexy
because you’re always flirting with the girls to get them to show you what’s in
your file,” the hot guy says. “What do you say? You show me yours and I’ll show
you mine?”

I laugh a very forced chuckle.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not going to
show you anything, slick.”

“Not until we get a drink in you,
anyway,” the balding one says.

And he proceeds to call over a
waitress.

I need to play this carefully. Both
of the guys seem to be paying attention to me, and Staci looks slightly
annoyed. I don’t want to piss her off, certainly not over two jerks.

“You’re Darcy, right?” I say to
baldy.

“Yes,” he says, hopefully.

“Oh my gosh, it’s been freaking me
out. I couldn’t figure it out, but now I know. You totally remind me of my cousin.”

I say it in a ditzy tone, with just
enough edge to let him know I’m not interested. Darcy’s face drops, and Jack
laughs whole-heartedly. Staci only smiles, as a good date would. But somehow, I
think she understands what I’m doing.

And Darcy glares at me, clearly
annoyed.

“Tell me something? Does your
cousin wear 1,600 dollar business suits?” Darcy says.

“Well, I don’t think so. He's in
college and works in a hardware store,” I say. “But maybe he should, because it
looks really nice.”

Darcy turns away from me and faces
Staci once more, and Jack only keeps laughing. And neither one of them seems
interested in calling the waitress over anymore. Only I think I’m going to need
that drink to get through this night.

“I’m just going to go to the bar,
I’ll be right back.”

I hop off the stool, and begin
navigating my way through the crowd. And I stop dead in my tracks for a moment,
and sigh in frustration; I could swear someone just pinched my ass. I look
back, and at least it wasn’t Jack or Darcy, following me. They’re still at the
table talking to Staci again, oblivious to my existence. So I continue pushing
my way to the brass railing that circles the bar, and signal to a bartender,
who seems open.

“Can I get a Corona?”

“Yeah, sure. Just a second.”

And he turns away to a man who’s
waving two twenties, and begins mixing his drinks. And I just shake my head.

The service in this place sucks.

My eyes wander to the other end of
the bar, and that’s when I see him. He’s hunched over in a corner, seemingly
trying to avoid attention, which is going to be difficult for this guy; he’s
totally hot. He has dark eyes and dark hair that is cut short on the sides, but
is a bit longer and wavy on the top. And he has full lips that any woman would
long to chew on. The guy wears a black leather jacket with a white T-shirt
underneath, a nicely masculine look that gives him just a hint of danger.

And I don’t know if it’s the crowd
or my excitement, but I feel a kind of electricity in the air, one that tickles
at the corners of my mind.

It’s funny how attraction works. There’s
not that much different about this guy than the two drones back at the table
other than business attire, but something chemical makes him infinitely more
appealing to me. He looks up at me and smiles, forming two of the cutest
dimples I’ve ever seen, and it almost makes me melt.

I turn back, trying not to seem too
obvious. And I try to get the bartender’s attention again, but he’s already
helping other people who are waving money at him. And once more, I sigh in
frustration.

I notice another bartender at the
other end of the bar, near the cute guy I’m afraid to look at. And I think,
screw it, why not? I walk to that side.

I spot an opening where I can sidle
up next to him. I can see his broad back, that he has an athletic shape from
behind, and I long to run my fingers through the wavy locks on his head. And I
somehow get up the nerve to stand next to him.

I don’t look at him right away, and
he doesn’t look at me either, though I can tell he knows I’m here. He’s playing
it cool. And it amuses me, somehow, this dance of attraction in which I usually
have two left feet. I take a 20 dollar bill from my purse and hold it out,
trying to get the attention of the other bartender. He’s young and has a crew
cut with big, beefy arms, and seems just as busy.

“Excuse me,” I say, hopefully. “Excuse
me?”

But he’s in the midst of pouring
drinks.

“Geez, who do I have to sleep with
to get a drink around here?” I say to the cute guy.

He takes the 20 from my hand, and
whistles, in a loud, shrill note. It surprises me, and all the noise around us
seems to stop for a moment. Finally, the bartender looks our way.

“Hey, do you think you can get the
lady a Corona?”

And it’s the strangest thing. The
bartender stops what he’s doing. He literally sets down a container of orange
juice he was pouring into glasses for some Tequila Sunrises, and instead, pulls
a beer bottle from a fridge. It angers the man he was serving, a hipster who
looks like he’s about to say something in protest, until he catches the gaze of
the guy I’m with, which quiets him.

The bartender pops off the cap from
my Corona and hands it to me, moving almost like a robot. He snatches the bill
from my hand.

“Um, thanks,” I say.

And I finally get up the nerve to
look at my new friend, who’s smiling back at me, pleased with himself. But on
him, the cocky look is appealing.

The heat coming off this guy is
palpable, I can almost feel it just standing next to him. He’s even cuter than
I had thought, from up close. I long to lean over and kiss those thick lips. And
his eyes, they’re green, so dark they’re almost black, with little flecks of
brown in them. It’s an intense shade I don’t think I’ve ever quite seen before.
And staring at his dimples up close makes me grow weak at the knees.

“So I guess it turns out it’s me
you have to sleep with,” he says.

“I … um … thanks,” I say.

And something about it all is too
much, the crowd and his incredible cuteness, and I turn away like an idiot and
scurry off.

Oh God, I can’t believe that I’m
doing this. I hate myself as I cut through the writhing mass of people. But I
do feel slightly better as I get closer to the table, as my heart stops
pounding through my chest. Maybe my attraction was too much. He was almost too
good-looking, I tell myself. Guys like that always turn out to be jerks.

I return to Staci and her two
suits, and they’re deep in shoptalk. And this time, I don’t even bother trying
to get up on the stool, I just stand there.

“So I hear Drexler Wexler is about
to land a car company. Is that true?”

“Well, we’re hardly going to tell
the competition. But let’s just say we’re looking at some very big bonuses this
year.”

“Well, I won’t be the competition
for very much longer if one of you takes that open position at Creative
Quorum.”

“Hey, I thought Meri was the one in
Human Resources,” Jack says.

And they all laugh as if it’s the
funniest thing in the world. But I don’t even bother trying to fake a giggle
this time.

I’m such a wimp. I finally meet a
guy who I’m interested in, one who seems to flirt back, and I’m too shy to talk
to him. Maybe it’s official now; I’ll always be alone. But even though I ran
away, I can’t stop myself from still being interested. My eyes are irresistibly
drawn back to his end of the bar. I manage to catch his eye through the throng
of people, and he smiles again. The dark-haired guy forms an L-shape with his
fingers, and holds it to his forehead. He points to the two Drexler Wexler
executives at my table, Jack and Darcy.

“Losers,” he mouths.

And I laugh, almost too loudly. I
nod my head in agreement.

Staci and the guys look over in
annoyance. I’m sure they think I have a screw loose, but I don’t care anymore. I
feel giddy at having caught his attention again. I can feel the electricity in
the room, and it makes me emboldened. I decide to do something out of
character. There’s no way my hunk is coming over here with two men sitting at
the table, and he’s far too hot to pass up. I decide to be aggressive for once
in my life.

“Listen, guys, I’m sorry, but I’ve
got to go,” I announce to the table.

“Oh, no,” Staci says, in mock
disappointment.

“I forgot. I’m taking care of my
neighbor’s dog, and the poor thing is probably starving. I need to go feed it.”

“But … he should be okay for a
little while longer, right?” she says, with only a bit of enthusiasm.

“Sorry …”

And I start to leave.         

“Well, wait,” Jack says, turning
back to me with a renewed half-interest. “Are you at least going to give me
your number?”