by Rose Francis
Then she realized she liked the feeling—anger made her feel more in control.
“I’m very much my own woman thank you very much. Anyway, I appreciate the chit-chat. I’m sure we’ll learn a lot more about each other in the coming months—our childhood dreams and whatnot.”
“I’m sure we will,” she heard him say as she walked off.
As she headed toward the elevator, Janet wondered if her father, despite all that he’d built, still felt some level of discomfort in such situations, and if that was why he tended to stay away from most of the minor social functions. Perhaps they were alike in that way at least.
No one is busy all the time, she thought as she performed her own disappearing act.
* * *
Janet hated taxis. As convenient as they could be, she hated putting her ass on places where hundreds of thousands—perhaps millions—of butts had sat before. She hated the way they were structured like cop cars with their boxy frames and their harsh front/back divisions, and she hated their stupid colors.
Still, she didn’t know what she’d do without them at times.
As she stood on the sidewalk, about to put her best flagging arm forward, a voice said:
“Need a lift?” A husky voice that had become somewhat familiar.
Janet briefly turned to look in its direction.
“I’ve got this, thank you,” she said, trying more desperately to get a taxi’s attention.
“Come on—we’re partners now right? How would it look if I just let you rely on a stranger to get you home safely?”
“You’re a stranger.”
“True, but less so than that Eritrean guy about to pull up, no?”
Janet had no comeback.
“Fine,” she said. “I appreciate it...partner.”
They walked over to his car.
As they came upon it, lights flashing from the remote unlock, Janet couldn’t help assessing his choice of vehicle, combing through the implications—making more of her new partner with his choice: a solid, practical silver sedan. Newer model.
Nothing flashy or expensive, or even mid-priced. Just...solid—a brand well-known for its reliability, yet the better looking of the models.
He opened her door for her and she slid in, mumbling a “thanks.”
As they pulled up to her condo, she found herself asking:
“Wanna come in for a drink?” as a sort of joke—certainly not as something she thought he would actually take her up on.
“Yeah I would, thanks,” he replied, and Janet panicked.
“What am I saying?” she said. “I can’t have you drinking, then driving. I was just trying to...”
“I know,” he said. His eyes twinkled as if he had been pulling her leg all along. “I appreciate it.”
Janet felt bad for taking back her offer, but she didn’t know this guy! All she knew was that someone had found him, and thought they’d be a good fit as coworkers.
“Well, someday perhaps, after a long day of brainstorming some aspect of our project, and my best friend has left me without a ride again.”
She smiled at him.
Finally, he seemed to have lost his perpetual grin.
“I look forward to working with you, Janet,” he said as she got out.
“Likewise,” she replied, enjoying the feel of power for once.
END OF EXCERPT
Playing With Fire is currently available. Check it out on ARe here.