“I’m leaving. You can put the ‘out of office’ on and go back to your regular work.” I have no idea which department she works in so I keep it short. She begins to say something but I cut her off. “I won’t be needing any additional assistance going forward. Thanks for your help today.” Before she can respond, I turn and head toward the elevator. I have an angel to meet.
I ask my driver to stop at one of those corner flower shops as we head toward my penthouse, which has beautiful views of Central Park. He pulls over and I step out, wanting to pick the flowers out for myself. I have no idea what type my future wife likes. I plan to buy a few but I’m just not sure which to get. I stare at them for a long time, feeling almost lost and overwhelmed. Mark usually does all of these things for me. I decide to text my sister.
Me: What flowers do you get for a first date?
I fire off the text and regret it immediately. I should pick them out myself. For some reason it’s important that I get everything for my angel. I don’t want anyone else involved in buying her gifts. I want it all to be by my hand. I’ve opened Pandora’s box by texting Kim. Now she’s going to blow up my phone with a million questions.
Me: Never mind
I try and save myself but my phone is ringing two seconds after I hit send on the second text. I take a deep breath in before I answer, knowing she’s going to try my patience.
“You’re going on a date?” she asks before I can say anything.
“Well-”
“And you’re picking out the flowers yourself,” she adds, cutting me off. I can hear the shock in her voice.
“I’ve gotten women flowers before so why would you assume I wouldn't pick them out if I was going to get them?” I point to a bunch of lilies and small baby roses. “Can you mix those together?” I ask the man attending the stand. He nods, doing as I asked. Maybe I’ve never gotten them for a date but sure I’ve gotten them for random people over the years for occasions. Okay. Mark got them. This, though, I want to pick out myself.
“Which did you get? Show me,” she demands. “Travis, get down from there!” Kim yells at one of my nephews. “Damn it. I’ll call you back.” She hangs up the phone on me. I make a mental note to send Travis a gift for saving my ass from the interrogation that was about to take place.
I hand the man money before taking the flowers from him. My driver holds the door open for me. “Anything else one gets for a first date?” I ask Smith. He’s been happily married for years.
“You said you’re meeting her for coffee?”
“That’s all I could get her to agree to,” I admit. It cost me over a million dollars. Smith laughs.
“Change out of the suit. Jeans, my man.” I nod, getting into the back of the car heading to my place. I take his suggestion, finding a shirt and jeans and going for more of a laid-back look. My sister often jokes that I look like the typical asshole when I am dressed in one of my suits. She also said that’s why women often throw themselves at me. I never understood this. Maybe because the suits scream money? I don’t know. Either way, it is why I don’t date anymore. I’ve tried and failed. It’s not something I am used to. Kim and I don’t see eye to eye on this. She doesn't think I’ve ever really made a good enough effort. Maybe she is right. Not that I’ll tell her that.
I stop and take a look in the mirror to make sure I look okay. Again, that nervous feeling wears on me. I'm not used to it. The reality of it is that I can't make this girl like me and to be honest I don’t think I’ve ever tried in my life to make someone like me or worried about it. If you don’t like me then fuck off. If you do, great. This isn’t the same. It’s an unsteady feeling. I don’t have control here. I’m not holding all the cards in my hand.
I pull out my phone to email Mark about buying Remex Collections. There is a chance that I can’t have my little angel but I could keep her close. I would still be a part of her life if I owned the company she worked for. It might be pathetic but I don’t care. I want her so badly that I am willing to do anything to have her which is crazy, considering I’ve never seen her face. I know nothing about her really, and still this need drives me. I step on to the elevator, alerting my driver that I’m coming down. It is my turn to make the collection. My little angel’s hand in marriage would be a good start to that.