“Oh, by the way. If he asks you, I’m a lesbian.”
There’s a stunned silence. “Whatever. I’m not asking, you’ve obviously gone insane.”
After ending the cal
l I wondered what the hell I was playing at. I needed a distraction. Money always distracted me. Working out my finances and what I needed for the future. So that’s what I did, I opened my laptop and my spreadsheets. If I worked solid for the next three months, taking any extra shifts at Abandon and fitting in movies where I could then I reckoned in about three months time I’d be able to apply for college, and maybe, just maybe, I might be ready to date.
So basically, my evil mind suggested. If you could ruin any chance of Aidan getting a love interest, you could possibly put yourself in his line of vision right at the very last moment, help him win his bet and maybe if by that time I really, really liked him, maybe win his heart. In the meantime as his friend I could get to know him inside and out without any dating crap getting in the way. God, you’re brilliant, I said to myself.
Chapter 5
Aidan
I arranged to meet Chrissy at the bar of a classy restaurant at nine pm a couple of days later. She was waiting for me when I arrived and hopped off her stool to greet me. Mostly when I met a date, they would stand while I shook their hand or at most let me air-kiss their cheeks. Chrissy flung her arms around me and enfolded me a tight embrace. “It’s good to meet you,” she told me, finally letting go.
“And you. Shall we go in and see if we can be seated?” I asked her.
“Oh, what’s the rush?” She patted the seat next to her. “Come sit down and choose a drink. I’m buying this time.”
Another surprise. Usually ninety-nine percent of the time I was expected to pay for everything. Then I remembered, Chrissy didn’t know I was a billionaire. For once it was nice to have a secret to hide behind. Lori and I had decided that I should say I was a bartender at Abandon and that’s how I’d met her.
I watched as the bartender cleared away five wine glasses from where Chrissy was sitting. “Same again, please.” She asked, “and get the man here a beer.”
“Could I have a scotch, actually?” I asked her.
She crooked her mouth to the side. “I suppose so, though I’d have preferred to have been dating a beer drinker.”
What the actual fuck?
We chatted normally after that for a while so I put the strange beer/scotch situation down to a quirk or a reaction to a previous ex. I’d have considered ending the date and returning home if she’d have carried on being weird.
It was time to go through to the main restaurant and so Chrissy followed me to the dining area and took the seat opposite mine.
She perused the menu for a while. Every time I or the waitress asked if she was ready to order, she asked for another few minutes and uhmed and ahhed. I was more than ready to eat by this stage and could feel myself getting wound up by having to wait. I reminded myself this was Lori’s friend and come what may, I needed to stick this date out.
Eventually Chrissy decided and chose her starter and main. I ordered mine and then looked at the drinks menu. “Would you like to order any wine at all?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes, I’d love a bottle of red. Could you pass me the menu over please?” Oh God, not another delay? I was about to suggest one when the look she gave me showed me that she fully intended to choose the bottle herself. She chose the most expensive bottle on the list. The waitress took our food and drink orders and moved away.
“So do you date a lot? I asked her.
“About once a week,” she told me. “Sometimes my dates aren’t who they appear to be. They’re totally fake people. What they say on the dating app is a crock of shit. Like they’ll say they’re a fitness instructor but they can’t get up a flight of stairs without almost dying. I’ve had some terrible dates.”
“So you work for a fashion magazine?” I think it best to bring her away from the subject of fake occupations.
“Yes, I source most of the clothes for each issue. Have to make sure everything is perfect.”
“Right,” I said, thinking that I didn’t give a fuck about her having to pick one sweater over another, though it lent some insight into why she was so fucking choosy and difficult. In fact, I was quite bored. I kept comparing sitting here with Chrissy and the stilted conversation we were having, alongside the easy camaraderie between myself and Lori at lunch just a few days ago.
The wine arrived, and I was asked if I wanted to taste it.
“Actually, could I taste it please?” Chrissy asked.
“Yes, Madam, of course.” A small amount was placed in a glass in front of her. She picked it up and swilled it around her mouth.
“It will do,” she said and dismissed the waitress. Then she poured herself a full glass and put the bottle down right at her side of the table.
“Do I not get a glass?” I joked.