She was also really hot and believable as my future wife. Dress Emma up nice, and she would be perfect for making Gina green with envy and let her know I had really moved on. There was even a possibility, slim as it was, that Mom might actually approve. Just this very thought warmed the cockles of my heart and made me grin like a mystical feline from Cheshire.
The CD reached its end, and I was brought back to reality. Popping the CD, I returned it to the case and slid it back onto the specially built shelf.
Taking one last deep cleansing breath, I got out of the hot rod and headed toward the Howell and Howell building, thinking it unlikely that even the manager of the cafe would have the power to eject me if things happened to go pear-shaped. I wasn’t counting on that, though. Not that I was arrogant in my certainty that Emma would give me another chance — just convinced in my optimism that she might.
There are those who say that a wise man knows when he is beaten. I have never been very wise.
Java was busy when I got into the cafe. Finding a table by one of the windows, still in view of the counter, I sat down and waited until Emma noticed me. A tactic quite similar to the one I employed to get dates in high school, sitting in the library and waiting for girls to talk to me. I didn’t have a single date until I was sixteen. I consoled myself with the fact that most girls were likely dissuaded by the fact that I was more than a foot taller than them, and I was the wealthiest kid at school — both of those things could be really intimidating.
Emma made me wait. I didn’t blame her, also realizing that she was still on shift and likely wouldn’t have time until noon or even later, depending on when her lunch break was. I really should have thought things out a bit better.
“What do you want?” Emma asked finally, sitting down across from me. I eyed her outfit, the checkered shirt unbuttoned enough to give me a big eyeful of her full cleavage.
“You, to hear me out, that is.” I put my hand across the table and leaned towards her. “Okay, I’m listening,” she said, noticing my gaze and crossing her arms over her beautiful chest. The move was disappointing.
“Well, first, I want to apologize.”
“Really?” Her big brown eyes lit up. It made her look delightfully innocent.
“Yeah, I was far too blunt and feel like I might have offended you.”
Emma’s lips twisted like she was trying not to smile. “Perceptive.”
“Yeah.” I nodded, wishing I had something to do with my hands. I should have gotten a cup of coffee.
“You called me a hooker.” One dark, curved eyebrow rose on her forehead. It was a challenge.
I nodded again, feeling uncharacteristically nervous under her scrutiny. “Indirectly, yes, though that’s not what I meant, and my issue or objection was not with you personally so much as the idea of employing a fake fiancée at all. It just felt like a bit of dirty pool if I’m honest.”
“Then why would you agree to it?” she asked.
“Desperate measures for a desperate situation.”
The girl grinned, it was a mix of sheepish and teasing. “You that hard up for a date?”
Laughter spilled out of me. Emma had a bit of fire in her — not always, but on occasion, she was quite bold. I could respect that.
Something relaxed between us. I sat back in my chair and put my foot on my knee.
“That’s what my mother seems to think,” I explained. “To the point of inviting my evil ex to the event we would have been going to.”
“Oh.” Emma’s face lit up. Her anger seemed to be forgotten. Now she looked at me with interest and caring in her deep eyes, almost like an old friend.
“I know it’s dirty and wrong and dishonest,” I continued, suddenly finding the girl across from me very easy to talk to, “but I really don’t want to have to get involved with my ex again and my mother is intractable.”
“That’s quite a cunning plan, sir,” she quipped, affecting an English accent.
“Thank you, Baldrick,” I followed, amused that she seemed to also watch the TV show Blackadder. “Though I doth confess, the machination was not an invention of my own.”
Emma gasped playfully, dramatically putting a hand to her chest. “Forsooth! What dastardly so and so conceited such as scheme?”
“Jim.” I could hardly answer, I was laughing so much.
“Jim Howell? The head lawyer?” Emma asked, sounding shocked.
She leaned across the table like we were sharing secrets. Her brown, silky hair swung forward into her face, and I had to stop myself from tucking it back behind her ear. That would have been too forward.