Fade In

by Mabie, M.

  “Yeah, actually they both are.” My pest of a best friend is doing the international sign for “get there” by wafting her hand in front of her black Donna Karan number she is rocking today. By the way, I should borrow that.

  Focus, Tatum!

  “So, actually I was calling for personal reasons, not professional. Um...”

  He cuts in, “Are you all right?”

  “No. No. I'm fine, really. I was calling to see if you wanted to go with me to Winnie and Cooper's party on Saturday?” God, not my smoothest moment, but I got it out, so that counts for something. Even though I sound like a pimply sixteen-year-old virgin asking the football star to the Sadie Hawkins. Sound? Hell, I feel like that girl too.

  “Tatum?”

  “Ben?”

  Winnie's eyes are about to bug out. The way her ass is barely touching the chair now is almost comical, and she's giving me the 'oh shit' face, teeth bared and all.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” He voice changes into the authoritative, seductive one I crave. I'm just worried that this time it's to tell me no.

  “What? Do you have plans or something? That's fine. I just… I didn't want to be rude and not invite you. You've been working so hard on it and all. Oh, shit, never mind. I'll just talk to you later.” I'm about to hang up. My blood feels like it's all being pumped to my face.

  “Tatum, wait. I want to go with you. You said personally though, right? Not professionally?”

  Winnie's sweet ass finally makes contact with the wingback and I see relief wash over her face.

  “Right.” What the hell? What does he want me to say?

  “Call me Benny and ask me again.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. Ask me again, like you’re not asking me to put your dog to sleep and call me Bennnnnyyy.” He says it slowly, and his voice puts me into that Ben-trance I'm becoming all too familiar with. He's going to make me jump through hoops, eh? I probably deserve it for waiting this long to ask him out.

  This is getting a little intimate with Winnie sitting here though. But she's all settled in now and eating this up like an inmate’s last supper. There's only one way to keep this from getting embarrassing for real.

  Ham it up. I can play his game. I invented this game.

  “Oh, Benny.” I put a little needy pant to my voice. “Benny? Please. Please, go with me on Saturday. Please, Benny?”

  “Fuck, Tatum.” He clears his throat. “I'm trying to walk down the street here.”

  Winnie taps out. With both hands on her head, she walks towards the door to leave, but first she does a very classy and mature table hump, mouthing the words “Fuck. Him. Already.”

  “Tatum, are you still there?” his voice sure and deep asks across the line.

  “Yes. I'm here. Seriously, though. If you're busy, I will be fine going by myself. You shouldn't feel obligated.”

  “I don't. What time do I pick you up?”

  “Pick me up? Uh…” Shit, this is a date. This is a real freaking date.

  No sensible shoes.

  No pretending.

  He's serious.

  “Yes. You've asked me to take you on a date. Right? You did just ask me out, or am I mistaken?”

  He's so intense when it comes to stuff like this. I never know what to think or say. “I did, but—”

  “But nothing. Do you want me to go with you?” How many different ways and times is he going to make me say it?

  “Yes,” I huff. “I want you to pick me up at six. I should be there a little early. I hope you don't mind.”

  “Nope. I don't mind at all.” Then he's quiet for a few seconds. “Why are you asking me out now?”

  He's so maddening. “I'm not sure what you're asking me.” Is this an ego trip? As crazy as he makes me, when he behaves like this, it's such a turn on. He's never easy.

  “Tell me why, Tatum? What made you call me and ask me right now?”

  “I just thought of it and I wanted to know if you'd like to go.”

  “And?” Fucking fishing bastard.

  “And I want to go with you.”

  “As your...?”

  “As my date, all right!? I want you to go with me. To a party. As my date. With me. On a date. Ben. Please?”

  “Great. Call me Benny again.” I can hear his smile, and my own cracks my tempered face.

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  I'm regretting this already. “Nope. You don't deserve it. You have to earn it from here on out. Now that I know how much you like it, I don't want to waste it. You have to work for it.”

  “Fair enough. Listen, I was going to call you. I need a few days off.”

  My gut reaction is to say no. To ask why. To know where he's going and what he'll be doing. But it isn't my business, so I say the only thing I can. “Of course, when?”

  “I'll need to be out of town tomorrow and I'll be back either late Friday or early Saturday morning. Everything is set for the party and I'll still be over in the morning. I just have some things I need to do. Will that be all right?”

  Again, I have to fight my curiosity and just agree. What choice do I have?

  “Sure. I'm sure I can manage a few days. I hope everything is okay.”

  His evasive excuse has my mind thinking all sorts of crazy scenarios in my head. We've yet to discuss at length how he knew about the position or exactly what he did before working for me. Only that it was in Washington and for the military, but not in it. Maybe I can dig for more information on our date?

  Hell, he could be some undercover spy for all I'd know. He'd actually be a brilliant spy now that I think of it, and then it flies right out of my mouth.

  “Ben, are you a secret agent or something?”

  He laughs. And then he laughs some more. If it weren’t one of the best sounds, then I'd chide him for laughing too long at my not-joke. It morphed about twenty seconds ago from one of the laugh-with-me kinds into the at-me variety. But it still sounds perfect to my ears.

  “Answer the question,” I insist.

  “Nope. I guess you'll have to earn that bit of information. Ms. Elliott, that's classified.” Then the smartass laughs even harder.

  “I have to go, Double-O Dickhead. I'll see you later.”

  It's only about an hour later that I see a delivery man walk past Cynthia, and in equal measure, I hope that the package is for someone else and for me at the same time. As he rounds the pit, I know—it's for me.

  He knocks about the same time I get it to the door.

  “Ms. Elliott? A package from Agent Benjamin.”

  I can't help myself. Laughing, I sign and thank the delivery man.

  When I open the package, first I see the note.

  Tatum,

  Since I'll be gone tomorrow and you'll likely be bored with no one to torment, here are two tickets to the Monty Python show on Broadway. Take Winnie. I owe her one.

  Enjoy,

  Agent Benjamin

  Ben arrives first thing in the morning. I sent him a text last night after I got home to thank him for the tickets. Of course, he made me re-text “Thank you, Benny.” But he deserved it. I really want to see that show and he got us fantastic seats.

  When he comes in, I'm surprised that he isn't wearing his usual casual Ben attire. Not today. Today, he's in a suit. He looks so good that I want to put my schmear on him and lick him up for breakfast.

  “Good morning, Tatum.” He smiles and come into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, and stands across from me at the bar.

  “Good morning, Ben. You look very nice this morning” I say in my most innocent voice.

  “So do you. Are you ladies ready for tonight's show? You wrap for the season next week, right?” He's right. We have one more show—the Big Show—and then it's adios for a few months. I'm so looking forward to it. This year I'm helping a few screenwriters with edits, which won't be much, and that's it. I would be nice to take a vacation, but who knows. I guess I'l
l have to see what comes down the line.

  “Yep. One more and then we're out until probably late July or early August. I am totally ready for a break, too. What are your plans for the summer? Any big trips? Secret rendezvous? Any covert operations?”

  “Not that I can think of or speak of,” he replies on a wink. My stomach does a little whoosh.

  Check yourself, Tatum.

  “So you'll be back in time for Saturday night then? It won't be rushing you?”

  “I already told you. I'll pick you up at six. Quit trying to back out. You clearly want to go out with me. So drop it.” He takes a long drink of his water to camouflage his glib grin.

  “You're so arrogant in the morning, Ben. I'm not trying to back out. I want you to go.” There. See? I can be a grown up. “I'm really looking forward to it. I think we've planned a great party.”

  “Are you parents going to be there?”

  I'm surprised that their attendance is only now coming up. “No, they couldn't attend. Prior engagement. But you'll meet them at the wedding I'm sure.” Even as I'm speaking that sentence, I'm regretting it. The wedding isn't for another month and a half, and here I am, making assumptions that he'll be going.

  “I'd like to meet them. From what you've told me, they sound really cool.”

  “Oh, they're cool all right. I hope you like patchouli, and you should probably brush up on your celestial easy-listening music.” Hell, they'll probably share a joint if they like him enough.

  “I'll have to remember that. What are you going to do after the show tonight?” This is the question I've been asked every Thursday morning since Pete sticked me.

  “I think that Cooper, Winnie, and I are just going to go get some dinner and then I'll most likely come back here. Don't worry about it. Ben, that was a freak accident and totally my fault.”

  “It wasn't your fault. Accidents don't have fault. I was just asking.” He seems a little sensitive about it, but I don't care. I'm a grown-ass woman. He can't babysit me all the time.

  “Seriously, I've lived in New York my whole life. I can make it a few days without you baby-proofing ahead of me.”

  “That wasn't what I meant and you know that,” he says sternly.

  “Okay, fine. I'll wear a helmet. I've been wanting to get one anyway. I've been thinking about a Kevlar vest, too. That would have come in handy at the bar. Seriously, I'm not a child.” As I hear myself say the words, I actually feel like a child throwing a tantrum. However, I commit to my arguments and give him a death stare for good measure. Benny can deal with it.

  “I know.” Ben's arms shoot in surrender. “Look, I just want to make sure that you're safe. That's all. I'm not trying to get into your business. I care about you.”

  Such simple words. I care about you.

  I care about you.

  He cares about me.

  “Thank you. That's sweet.” Before I get all goo-goo eyed, I decide it's time for me to head downstairs. “Are you riding with me to the studio today?” I ask as I grab my bag and briefcase.

  “No, I can't. I brought the Jeep and I need to head out. I just wanted to stop in and make sure there weren't any last-minute things you needed me to do first.”

  I'm not sure why I'm this disappointed, but I am. He is only leaving for two days and we've only been on one kind-of date. However, we've spend the better part of the month together and I'll genuinely miss him.

  “I'll walk you down though.”

  He smiles sweetly in consolation and offers me his hand. Taking my free hand, he takes my briefcase from the other and we head down. Together.

  “I'll have my phone on me all the time. So feel free to call if you need anything or...” He trails off, and this is when I notice the back and forth of his thumb over my knuckle.

  We step into the elevator and the air is thicker, pregnant with what he was about to say.

  “Or what?”

  “Or you could just call me if you want to. I'd like that.” How can the most basic of sentences say so much?

  They mean so much.

  “Okay. Maybe I'll call you tonight when I get home.”

  His grin is as wide as Bow Bridge in Central Park when I offer. “Maybe I'd really like that.”

  “Maybe it's settled then. I'll call you later and you'll have a nice trip.”

  “And you'll have a great show.”

  “Peaches.” I smile too. Stepping off the elevator I feel lighter than when we stepped on it.

  The car is waiting, and Ben leads me right to the back passenger’s door, saying good morning to Ray. Ray is quiet and polite to a fault. That man is more punctual than a Rolex and makes the NYC traffic his bitch.

  I love having a driver.

  “Okay, I'll see you on Saturday. Six o'clock sharp,” Ben tells me, leaning in so that I can smell is cinnamon breath.

  Nose to nose, we just look at each other.

  “I'll talk to you tonight?” he says like a question, and I nod my compliance. “Okay then.”

  At the same time we kiss each other on opposite cheeks and hold the touch a beat longer than one would classify as platonic.

  “I'll miss you, Benny,” I say into his ear.

  The man hummed. Literally hummed.

  That warm feeling stays with me all day long and through one of our best shows to date. I'll also add that three people told me I looked really good today, and the kicker is that I feel really good.

  The show ends flawlessly. Winnie and Cooper decide to call it an early night and go on home, which is fine with me. I'm tired, and the weekend is going to be a busy one. So instead of going out with the rest of the cast and crew, I head home too.

  Neil called for my car to pick me up outside in a few minutes, so I go down with Neil a few minutes early to wait in the warm night air.

  When we hit the ground floor, I see Kurt before he sees me, which, let's be honest, doesn't happen for me that often. He's pacing in the lobby.

  Neil, having ridden down with me, notices him too. “Do you want me to stick around, Tate?” Concern is obvious on his perfect-pored face. I need a facial.

  “No, I'll be fine. I'll just tell him I'm going home. Don't worry. It's just Kurt, Neil. He's not a bad guy.”

  “I know. It's just weird that he's here. Do you guys still talk?”

  “No, not really.” As we approach Kurt's earshot, I whisper reassurance. “It's fine. Really.”

  “All right, girl. Goodnight. Good show. Are you coming in tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I'll probably come in early. Get a good jump on the Big Show for next week.”

  “Okay, I'll be here at eight.” Neil winks and waves a civil hello to Kurt in passing.

  I wait until Neil is out of the doors before saying anything, stopping in front of my ex-boyfriend. “Hey, Kurt. Whatcha need?” I politely smile. I don't have any bad feelings towards him, but Neil's right. It is a bit strange that he's here.

  I never really texted him back after the bar fiasco, and he has called a few times since then. I just never know what to say, so I don't answer

  “Can we talk?” He looks all right, and I've never been afraid of him. What could it hurt?

  “Sure, but I've just got a second. I'm meeting someone.” I figure that's vague enough to get me out of any long, drawn-out heart-to-heart that, at the moment, I don't have the heart for.

  “Who are you meeting? Winnie and Cooper? They can meet us. Are you going to Matty's?” Whoa, that's a lot of questions.

  “No, actually. I'm meeting someone at home.” I read his instant reaction to my last statement and know that it was a big mistake. Why don't I know when to shut the fuck up?

  “Is it that guy you were with the other night?” He starts to slightly bounce like he's getting hyped up. He isn't acting at all like the Kurt I know. I gather that he didn't like my answer and all, but that guy isn't really any of his business.

  “Listen, I'm not upset about Matty's if that's what you're worried about. Everyone drinks a little too
much every once and a while. Pete isn't even pissed about it. So let's just drop it.” I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I desperately want to grab it and see if it's Ben.

  I put my hand in my pocket and reach for my phone. I see that it's Ray, and I'm instantly relieved. I don't think that Kurt will do anything messed up, but I also didn't ever picture him swinging at a guy with a pool stick. So what do I know?

  Ray: Everything, okay? I'm waiting in the car in front of the doors.

  I say, “Excuse me,” to Kurt and quickly text Ray back.

  Me: I'm fine. Be right out.

  “Is that him? Who is he anyway? Do you really already have a boyfriend?”

  “No. That's enough! I don't already have a boyfriend and I don't really see where it's any of your business, Kurt. Actually, I don't really appreciate you just showing up at my job after a show like this either. What do you want? And make it quick. I have to go.”

  Kurt moves to grab my phone. I feel him grab for it before I see him do it. Looking down to our hands that are now joined, I yank my arm back.

  “I think we're done here. I'm going home.”

  “Don't be a bitch, Tatum,” he venomously spits. “A bitch?” This is the Kurt that I was sort of expecting when we were dating. Funny that he was just waiting to show up after we went to Splitsville. What a piece of shit. I can't believe that I felt bad for the prick.

  “Listen. We broke up. End of fucking story. I suggest you leave and don't come back here. You hear me? I don't want to see you again. Ever!”

  I start to walk away, but he grabs my arm. It isn't even seconds before I see Ray walking through the double doors, and he looks murderous. His huge chest is puffed up bigger than I've ever seen and his dark brown eyes look black. When he gets closer, I can see a vein throbbing up the side of his forehead and across his bald scalp. We meet eyes and I silently ask for help.

  “Hey, buddy. Why don't you let her go and back the fuck up?” Ray's growl echoes from across the lobby as he gains speed, heading towards Kurt and me.

  “And who the fuck is this guy, Tatum? Are you so Goddamned blind you can't tell who you’re fucking anymore?” I'm frozen. It's the cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me. “Did she suck your dick yet, pal? She's at her best when she's on her knees.”