A Perfect SEAL

I get to work on the financials while everyone is going about their own jobs to get ready for dinner service. The calming influence of numbers is soothing — no feelings to hurt, no machinations or bullshit to sort through. Math is clean, and never tries to deceive or double-talk you. Numbers are exactly what they appear to be, and lately they’re my favorite part of this job.

> Even when there aren’t as many of them as there used to be.

I’m interrupted from my reverie by a Gloria’s signature throat clearing for attention. She never just knocks or announces herself — like I should be constantly awaiting a chance to see her and pay attention.

“What, Gloria?”

“You have a visitor. He was at the door, but I let him in since I figured you’d want to see him.”

She doesn’t cringe away from my glare like I want her to, so I wave her away. It’s not like I don’t know who it is. “Fine. I’ll be up in a second.” She leaves like a cat who’s been told there’s a mouse out front. Is that a stab of jealousy? Christ on a stick, what the hell’s wrong with me right now?

Just to make a point to myself, I make the last few notes in the ledger and then occupy myself on Facebook for five minutes. Let him wait; it’ll do him good.I can’t just leave him to Gloria’s wiles forever, though. Even he doesn’t deserve that. So I smooth my dress, check my hair, touch up my lipstick, and then make my way casually to the bar.

Jake is there, waiting for me, conversing with Gloria with a tense look on his face. He looks like a statue, almost, except for the thick, wavy hair. I have to stop staring at him — I really should be dealing with Gloria. She’s likely giving him the third degree, digging for whatever she can find... juicy tidbits, nuggets of gossip gold, or dirt on someone. Probably me.

“Jake Ferry,” I say, catching his attention — and Gloria’s — when I emerge from the back of house. “We don’t open for another two hours, you know.”

“Is that so?” Jake asks, smiling that devilish grin at me. Gloria may as well not exist at that moment, and I have to curb the strong desire to laugh at the sour face she makes. “I didn’t realize.”

“The hours are on the door,” I tell him as I lean on the bar from the inside. “They didn’t teach reading in whatever gold-plated private school you went to?”

“My school was plated in platinum,” he says rakishly, “and no. They just teach math and colors. Green, primarily.”

It’s so self-indulgent that I can’t help but laugh even as I roll my eyes at him. “Right. What are you doing here?” I divert my eyes from his; I don’t know what mine will say to him if he catches a glimpse of the real me.

“I wanted to see if I could take you out for lunch.” I glance at him in surprise and he winks at me, and I begin to wonder if food is what he means, or… “I know this great little Vietnamese place on the other end of town. Unbelievable food. Devastating price tag. What do you say?”

“It’s almost three o’clock,” I point out. “Lunch is over.”

Jake shrugs. “Did you eat already?”

“I… planned to,” I tell him.

“But…?” He leans toward me a bit, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Jake I…” I can’t finish it. I want to send him away. I’m busy. I’m hungry, too, though. And I’ve heard about the place he’s talking about. It’s getting rave reviews all over the place, but I can barely carve out enough time to order delivery, much less visit the other restaurants in town right now. They have this hot sauce I’m really curious about, too… “What the hell,” I say, finally. “I guess I can spare an hour.”

“Make it an hour and a half,” he says.

“An hour and fifteen minutes.”

He mulls this over, and then smiles. “All right. Deal. We better get going. Clock is ticking.”

Gloria is staring at me from well behind him, listening in. Now, she steps forward. “I can run — ”

“Chester,” I call to my bartender, “you’re in charge until I get back.”

Gloria looks like she might start whistling like a tea kettle any second, but instead of letting loose right here and now she turns on a heel and stalks to the other side of the lounge, where she’s supposed to be cleaning.

Jake glances over his shoulder at her, following my gaze, and then sighs. “She’s ah… real friendly, isn’t she?”

“It’s your cologne,” I tell him.

Jake frowns. “I’m not wearing cologne.”

“Then you’re a cheapskate,” I laugh. “But no. The only cologne Gloria smells is money.”

He laughs again, and we leave to go on our first…