“I’m willing to admit you have a point. Now get out of here so I can figure out how to tell her that.”
He leaves with a mocking bow and I then turn to look at my phone with trepidation. She’s still at work so maybe I shouldn’t call her now. When I entered my number on her phone, I made sure to text myself so I’d have hers. It’s been so tempting seeing that message sitting in my texting app. It would be so easy to reply to it, to initiate a conversation about something related to the campaign just for the excuse of claiming some of her time.
But each time I stop myself, worried that I’m doing the exact thing I told myself I wouldn’t do, pressure her for more than she wants to give.
However this time Jason is right. I have legitimate business news that she deserves to hear. Finally I curse my own indecision and hit her name to call her.
“Hello?”
“Casey. It’s Andre.”
“I know.” She sounds like she’s whispering. “I was just surprised to hear your voice. Is everything okay? Do you need me to get Mya?”
“No, I called for you. Good news, the board approved the recycling program.”
After a pause, Casey erupts into a muffled squeal. “Holy crap, seriously? That’s great. I mean, I figured Paul would come through for us but you can never be sure about these things.”
Why is he Paul? Disgruntled, I remember how long she insisted on calling me Mr. Lavin even though it was completely unnecessary but she meets Nussbaum once and suddenly he’s Paul?
“It’s all thanks to you. You’re the one who convinced Mr. Nussbaum to vote yes on the proposal. Where he goes the others usually follow.”
“It was the right thing. I’m just thrilled they actually agreed.”
“So we should celebrate. Dinner tonight?”
“Um… you don’t have to do that. It was no big deal.”
“Our company will have a smaller carbon footprint and some of D.C.’s residents will have warm clothing this winter thanks to you. It’s a very big deal.”
I can hear the smile in her voice when she responds. “Thanks. It feels good to be a part of something that matters. I guess we could do dinner.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up from work. Unless you’d rather go home first. I could pick you up at your apartment.”
“No! Don’t do that.” Casey coughs. “At work is fine. See you then.”
After we hang up, I sit back with a satisfied smile. This is probably the only time such a lackluster acceptance has ever made me feel so good. With Casey, I’ve had to work for every inch and even though this is just a friendly dinner, it feels more important than any other date I’ve ever had.
Right before five o’clock, I pull up in front of the Madison building and put the car in park to wait.
I love the energy of Washington, D.C. There are always people rushing by in dark suits or joggers with their dogs. It’s a city that never sleeps but with a totally different vibe than New York or Los Angeles. In New York the energy is manic, so much going on that I feel drugged every second I’m there. Los Angeles feels like moving through a dream with it’s loud colors and obsession with physical beauty.
The nation’s capital is just as vibrant but with a controlled pace and an orderly energy. Here the celebrities are senators and congressmen instead of actors and musicians. It reminds me more of Milan although it can’t touch Italian architecture. I’m definitely biased.
Fifteen minutes after five, Casey pushes open the building’s glass doors and steps out onto Connecticut Avenue.
I watch as she looks both ways and then starts walking in the opposite direction. I lower the window slightly and whistle at her. She turns and glares at the car before turning her attention back to her phone.
Lowering the window all the way, I lean out. “Cassandra, don’t be difficult.”
She whirls around at the sound of her name. “Andre! I thought you were going to call me before you got here.”
As soon as she gets in and shuts the door I pull back into traffic.
“I figured you were getting off soon anyway, so I decided to just wait. Why didn’t you come over at first?”
She laughs. “Because you whistled at me, you jerk. I thought you were some random guy hitting on me. It happens occasionally. Men in this city will hit on anything that moves. Well, I suppose men are like that in every city.”
I can only imagine. When I whistled at her I was being playful, never considering that it might come across as disrespectful. Not that I’m unaware those things happen but she speaks about it as just a fact of life. And for her it is, a sobering thought. Maybe I should pick her up from work everyday.