“No. I was kidding. Let me get it. Whatever you want.”
Pearl eyes me, then slowly eyes the menu. “Really?”
“My treat. I’m not officially working for you yet.”
I’m not sure Pearl is naturally given to blushing, but at that, her face goes scarlet again. She’s pretty when she’s flustered. Like, really pretty. I have to remind myself that she thinks I’m gay. I feel like I haven’t done enough good things in my life, and life has been pretty good to me. I can do Pearl this solid favor—go to the wedding with her, meet her parents, and get the heck out, all while not ever hitting on her. I can do that.
Pearl spins around and turns to the barista, who is eyeing us both with open curiosity. I feel like as soon as we pick a table, she’s going to be lurking around with her phone out, recording the whole conversation to playback and laugh about with all her friends later. Or maybe she’ll be nice and just eavesdrop like the good old days before technology dominated everyone’s life. That’s how out of place I feel with Pearl.
“Can I get a matcha latte, the blended one? The cold one, I mean. Blended. Yes, uh, with whipped cream?”
“Certainly.” The barista smiles back at us. “I know exactly the one.” She presses a button on the register.
“And a muffin? The orange cranberry?” Pearl asks.
“Sure.” Another button press later, and the barista is smiling at me expectantly.
I’m not exactly anything but a black coffee type of guy. Yeah. Whatever. Being rich doesn’t make you fussy. At least not when you weren’t rich from when you were little. I debate about ordering a black coffee, but it’s hot out, so I rattle off something about iced coffee with whip something since it’s the first thing I read off the menu.
I pull out a few bills then deposit all the change into the tip jar at the front of the counter. The girl gets to work, and a few minutes later, we have our drinks and the muffin. I try a tentative sip through the orange straw and immediately decide I like iced coffee whatever with whatever whip. It’s better than regular black coffee, even if it is a little sweet.
Pearl takes her drink and muffin before spinning around and leading the way to a table near the back. I guess she doesn’t want to be listened in on either. Somehow that little shop is deeper than it looks, and as we pass by rows and rows of books, I get to spend a good deal of time admiring Pearl’s tight ass in jeans that aren’t so much tight as they are stretchy. Anyway, it’s nice, and I like it. A lot. More than I should. Damn it. Does checking out her ass already count as hitting on her?
“So.” Pearl barely waits for me to sit down before she starts talking. She studies her drink intently, which she’s gripping with both hands. I imagine it’s cold. She’s probably going to frostbite herself, but that’s obviously the least of her worries. “I really didn’t think you’d come. Thank you for showing up to hear even more about this crazy plan.”
“No problem.” I savor another sip of my drink. Right now, I’m considering ordering another to take home. Is that normal? Do people do that? It’s probably a lot of sugar.
“I…really. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” Pearl sighs. “I can’t really explain everything to you, other than my parents making such a big deal about me being avowedly single that I think it could almost ruin my sister’s wedding. I don’t want the attention to be on me. I want it to be on her. It’s her day, and I’m her maid of honor. I want to be there for her, not constantly shielding a million questions from my mom and dad. I don’t want to be hounded and badgered all weekend. Their worry is really out of control. I haven’t dated for a few years, not anyone, but umm, that’s another story I don’t want to get into. Let me just say it didn’t end well, and I was so tired of it. Being single has been really nice. I don’t want to change that, but I do want my parents to just give me a break, at least for one weekend. If you come with me, then they’ll be so blissfully happy, they’ll probably forget about all their worry and questions and just let me be. They’ll focus on Susan, as they should.”
I just quietly listen to her. She has such a pretty voice, even with the underlying distress that accompanied it.
“I do plan on breaking their hearts in a few months by telling them we broke up, but that will be my problem. It will take a while for the worry to start up again, so I’ll have a short reprieve after that. Anyway, it should be a pretty easy gig. I’ll make sure they leave you alone. We would have to act like we are dating, but in general, I’m not publicly affectionate, so it shouldn’t be a problem. We might have to share the guest room because my parents aren’t old fashioned, and they only have one, but I trust it also wouldn’t be a problem given that um…that you’re…well…you know. Uh, I know we just met, and this all sounds pretty weird, and now I’m asking you to share a bed with me, kind of, and meet my family, all of them, since they’ll all be at the wedding, and I know it’s a lot of pressure for just two grand, which I plan on paying in five hundred dollars per day installments starting on the first day, so if you want to bail, just tell me now.”