9Brent* * *“I have to see Jane,” I think to myself. My office seems dim without her around. It’s lifeless. Grays are grayer and my lunch is bland, no matter how much hot sauce I pour on it. I need a hit of the curvy girl’s energy.
I text her for a date tomorrow and wait. And wait. My foot taps impatiently. I know she’s a phone addict like many girls of her generation, so why is it taking so long? Then, my cell pings. I read her message. She’s in. My body relaxes and I can breathe again.
This is not good. I’m so in love with Jane, and yet we haven’t figured things out. My daughter still doesn’t know. Her parents have no idea, and would probably freak out if they found out she was dating a man nearing fifty. Even my ex-wife suspects. Yet being with Jane is exactly what I want. She’s someone I can’t stop thinking about. Someone I can obsess over in a healthy way. Someone I could have more children with, and who would be an excellent mother to our kids.
I want to talk to her about it all, but what will she say? Is the curvy girl ready to settle down? Or is she still young and wants to play the field? Only Jane would know the answers to these questions.In the morning, we meet at a coffeeshop near the Cube. The curvy girl walks in wearing boots, jeans, and a flannel, and I swear to God, I’m getting hard already. What the hell? I look her over and she smiles.
“What?”
“I know we need to behave ourselves here, but you are a sexy lumberjack.”
She giggles and I know I am successful in my goal of keeping her happy. “Come on, I need a peppermint mocha,” she says.
“Not a pumpkin spice latte?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m not a basic bitch, so no.”
We get to the counter and she orders. Then the barista asks, “And for you, sir?”
“Pumpkin spice latte.”
Jane looks up at me and blushes.
“Oh my god, really Brent? I didn’t even know that guys got that drink.”
I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“Didn’t you know you’re dating a basic bitch?”
She giggles again. “Nope.”
“Well, now you know,” I wink. We get our drinks and load into my luxury SUV for our date. I’m taking her on a trip, and she’s going to love it.
“Buckle up because it’s a bit of a drive to Bear Woods.”
She sighs, leaning back in the seat with satisfaction.
“I know. I’m so happy because I haven’t been out to Bear Woods since Girl Scouts with Harlow.”
“Oh, right, that week-long trip, right?”
She nods.
“It’s beautiful out there. I hope when I have kids, they get to have the same experience.”
I smile, desperate to keep my mouth shut on the matter, but it’s a challenge. Things just seem to be getting more and more urgent, and it’s increasingly hard to keep using protection when I want to fill her up with my babies. I try to take my mind off of it.
“Put on whatever music you like, sweetheart.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“What if you hate my music?”
Dammit, she sees it coming. I smile.
“I’ll love it. Come on, honey, put some tunes on.”
She grins and fiddles with the satellite radio. Jane settles on Mercury, my favorite 90’s grunge channel and bops her head to Nirvana. I find myself nodding along with her. At the drum break in Smells Like Teen Spirit, she plays air drums and gets into it.
She’s hysterical, emotive, and so sexy too as she pretends to clash the cymbals really hard. I am in her thrall. I can’t help myself, and I have to ask, “How do you know this music? Isn’t this before your time?”
She throws me an innocent look.
“The 90’s were a golden age when it comes to music, Brent.”
“Yes, I know that, but how do you know that?”
She laughs. “I told you, I listen to a little bit of everything. I try to give it all a shot. You never know what you might like until you give it a try, so I like sampling new things when I can. Or, in this case, old things.”
I throw her a wry look.
“Is there any subtext to your statement?”
“Maybe,” she grins and gets back to air guitaring.
We ride along and jam to my generation’s angst for a while until we pull up to the park. It’s beautiful day. The sun is shining, the bright blue sky is cloudless, and the grass is still green, despite the impending fall. September in Denver is perfect for Bear Woods, and not for offices. Then again, I feel no guilt for taking the day off. Kombuchaid is making money hand over fist, and they won’t miss me at all.
We start hiking, and the sun beats on our backs. Pretty soon, we stop for a rest break at a craggy outlook overlooking the valley below.