Scratch the Surface

In the car, my phone chirped, and I had a text message from my buddy Mike that said he and Talia couldn’t make it to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, but he would like to invite me and Jeremiah to have dinner on Friday night.

“I have to meet your best friend,” Jeremiah insisted, starting the car. “Tell him yes.”

I was very excited about that.

On the way home, I got several more texts, and Jeremiah asked me what was with all the pinging.

“It’s nothing, just the usual drinks at a lounge near our office before the holiday.”

“Are you supposed to be at something tonight?”

“No, it’s nothing,” I assured him.

“If I weren’t here, would you go?”

I groaned. “In years past, I’ve gone before I eat with my folks. I use that as an excuse to leave early.”

“So it’s a work thing, and you’re supposed to show up for it, however briefly.”

“You could say that, yes.”

“But not this year?”

“No, and please believe me when I say it doesn’t matter. Plus, it’s almost forty minutes one way to drive into the city from here.”

“Yeah, but––”

“And it’s nearly ten o’clock, so anybody who’s still there is only there to get drunk.”

“But I’m guessing your firm pays for this, like it pays for an annual Christmas party.”

“We don’t call it a Christmas party, it’s a Holiday Soiree, or sometimes a Winter Celebration, even though Bev Thurman in legal said that Winter Celebration sounded like druids or something.”

“I see.”

“That sounded a skosh judgmental.”

“Not at all.”

My phone pinged some more.

“We should go, do a loop, say hello to whoever is left, and then leave.”

“You don’t understand,” I argued, my voice hoarse and thick. “I want to go home.” The grin that curled his lips made me catch my breath.

“I am really enjoying you wanting me,” he teased me.

“I always want you. This is not news,” I groused at him. “And I want to go home,” I insisted, enunciating each word for him.

“And I want you not to blow off mandatory social engagements on account of me and then have the people you work with thinking you’re a dick.”

“Trust me, they all already think that.”

“I don’t believe you.” He reached over to take hold of my hand. “I’ve noticed that you have a pretty skewed view of what people think of you.”

“I do not.”

He grunted. “Tell me where I’m going.”

I did as he asked, because apparently whatever he wanted, I would do.

The lounge, Flower Eater, was on Valencia Street, and even though my directions weren’t great, Jeremiah had no problem navigating in the city on a Wednesday night. The lounge was around the corner from where we parked, and when we got close, I saw some people from work heading the same way we were. I was more than a little surprised everyone seemed happy to see me, and of course they all wanted to meet Jeremiah.

The doorman told us the back room was reserved for us, so we made our way through the crowd, past the bar, until we reached a velvet rope where two women were standing, one with a tablet. When I gave her my name, my picture from our website came up, and she nodded to the other woman, who unclipped the rope so Jeremiah and I could walk in. Three steps led down to a small dance floor, and beyond that was another bar, dozens of booths, tables with leather chairs, and banks of couches.

Since Jeremiah was still designated driver, he asked for a Coke when the bartender came over to take our order, and I got an Old Fashioned, which I got a smirk over. I saw my boss across the room, so I led Jeremiah over to him and made the introductions. He seemed interested in getting to know my boyfriend.

“I told you,” Jeremiah gloated, leaning in close, his warm breath on my ear, which made me shiver. “Everybody wants to know you, so of course they’re gonna want to know me.”

“Which surprises me, because most of the time they look at me like I’m from another planet.”

“Yeah, but that’s only because they don’t get how your mind works. It doesn’t mean they’re not interested in you.”

I had never thought of it that way.

We spent a couple of hours talking to people I had never said more than hello and goodbye to before. It was nice, and I was surprised by how many conversations began with a compliment for me.

“Your work on the Odell merger was amazing.” That one came from Katelyn in development.

“I don’t know how you do it, but there’s this thing you do while you’re presenting something where you strategize and influence at the same time, and it’s fuckin’ brilliant,” Ben Riggs, one of our acquisition managers, told me.

“He embodies everything good in our company, doing his best for the client while still benefitting our company’s growth,” Mr. Stein revealed to Jeremiah. “We’re terribly fortunate to have him.”