by Tara Sivec
“Okay, I get that. But I don’t get the Iowa thing. Why would their car be towed to Iowa?” he asks.
“Let me give you an example. Pretend you’re from Iowa, and I’m going to tell you a joke that will explain it all.” I clear my throat and give him the biggest smile. “So, hey, do you want to hear an Iowa joke?” I ask him.
“Oh hey, I’m from Iowa!” he plays along.
“Okay, I’ll tell it reeeally slooowly then.”
I can barely get the words out without giggling, and I’m pretty sure Brent is just laughing along with me because I’m a dork, and not because he gets the joke.
“So, basically,” I tell him through my laughter, “there’s kind of this rivalry thing between Minnesota and Iowa. Minnesotans tell Iowa jokes, and Iowans tell Minnesota jokes. And that’s why the sign is funny. No one from Minnesota wants their car towed to Iowa, so they will make darn sure they pay before parking in that yard.”
“Have I told you recently how adorable you are?” Brent asks as we get to the double wood entrance doors to Lola’s.
“Not in the last two minutes. You’re slacking, mister.”
Look at me, being all confident and joking. Thank you, Heidi’s Discount Erotica!
I let go of Brent’s elbow as he removes his hand from the top of mine to pull open the door, resting the palm of his free hand on the small of my back to allow me to go in first. My skin feels like it’s on fire where his hand is touching me, but not bad fire. Really, really good, tingly fire. The kind of fire that makes me want to ask him to touch my butt.
Oh my God, I feel so scandalous!
Walking up to the hostess stand, Brent requests a table for two, and I quickly ask the woman if we could have a table outside on the deck. She grabs our menus and guides us through the restaurant toward the sliding glass doors that lead outside. Not even the distraction of having to stop every five feet when someone I know calls my name can make me stop thinking about Brent’s hand still pressed against my back and how close he stands to me as I make quick introductions, spending a few seconds chitchatting before moving on.
“This really is a small town,” Brent jokes as he pulls out my chair for me when we’re finally outside, after I’ve spoken to every person in the room I know.
“It’s worse, because I was a teacher. Those were pretty much all parents of my former students,” I explain as he sits down across from me, and we both look out at the view of Lake Waconia, the setting sun in the distance creating an orange glow on top of the water, and the sounds of the gentle waves lapping against the deck instantly put me at ease. “Honestly, a lot of people give small towns a bad rap, but I couldn’t imagine living somewhere else. I love that I can go anywhere and run into someone I know. It makes you feel not so alone in this great big world.”
“Well said. And exactly why I wanted to move to Waconia after living in Minneapolis for a little while when I came here from L.A.,” he tells me.
I knew he was from L.A., but I didn’t know about the Minneapolis things. I open my mouth to ask him more about why he moved here, when our waitress comes over to take our drink orders, and Brent changes the subject as soon as she leaves. We chat about the current construction site he’s working on, and I tell him more about Waconia and other surrounding areas and the different fun things to do around here while we place our food orders and eat our dinner.
All my life coming to Lola’s Lakehouse, I would always look around at the couples who were here on a date and be insanely jealous of them. They were having a romantic evening, leaning across the table toward each other, staring into each other’s eyes with dreamy smiles on their faces, and I was stuck at a table with my parents while they talked in detail about my dad’s bunion.
“I just need to tell you—I can’t believe I’m at Lola’s Lakehouse, on a real date, and not like that time I came here on a date with someone my mom set me up with, as usual, and he left before we even ordered our entrees, and I made up a fake date when the waitress came back and found his seat empty, and I told her my life was in danger,” I tell Brent as I take a bite of my beer-battered walleye, no longer caring about trying to impress him by being someone I’m not. I’m kind of a dork. And dorky things seem to always happen when I’m involved. Might as well own it.
Brent pauses his fork halfway to his mouth, slowly dropping his hand back down to the table.
“Yep, gonna need you to elaborate on that.” He chuckles.
“My mom set me up on a date with the son of some woman she went to summer camp with once when they were eight,” I start explaining as I pop a french fry in my mouth. “They ran into each other last year at Nickel Dickel Days, realized they both had single kids, and decided to ruin both our lives. Anyway, Daniel was a real dud. He was strangely obsessed with birds and did nothing but show me bird pictures on his phone from the minute he sat down. He gasped when I told him I was thinking about ordering the chicken. Daniel excused himself to go to the bathroom after we got our drinks… and never came back. When the waitress came over for the fifth time to ask me if I needed anything, while blatantly glancing at the now empty place across from me, I embellished about my date a little bit. I told her his name was Nicholas Nightingale, and he owned his own private security business and was called away on an emergency for a high profile client. Told her my life had been threatened if Nicholas didn’t help out this client, and Nicholas loved me so much that he would risk his own life to save me. Our waitress was a true romantic at heart. I got two desserts out of that little lie to save face, and this place has a chocolate lava cake that is to die for. Plus, Nicholas Nightingale didn’t turn into a huge disappointment, like every other date I’ve been on.”
Man, way to be a Debbie Downer, Heidi.
“The only way this date is going to turn into a disappointment is if they’re out of that chocolate lava cake you just mentioned. I might flip a few tables.” He shrugs easily, digging back into his dinner.
I love you and I want to have all your babies.
The rest of dinner is easy-going and perfect. There’s never a lull in conversation, and both of us laugh so much that I’m sure my cheeks and stomach are going to ache tomorrow. After we both get the chocolate lava cake, Brent agrees that it is to die for, pays the check, and holds my hand as we’re walking back out through the restaurant. I don’t know what we should do next, but I know for sure I’m not ready for the night to end. I’m so ridiculously giddy I can’t even stand it.
“Brent, is that you?”
My head jerks up as we get to the front door and find Laura Newberg standing there. Laura Newberg wearing a teeny, tiny black dress she isn’t constantly fidgeting with, standing tall in black stilettos without a wobble in sight.
She struts confidently over to us, doing a double-take when she sees me, her mouth dropping open when she looks down and notices Brent and me holding hands.
I immediately yank my hand out of his, trying my hardest not to compare myself to the blonde bombshell standing in front of me, especially after what Brent said to me back at my house and what a great dinner we just had.
“Heidi! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Laura exclaims happily, quickly throwing her arms around me and giving me a big hug while I stand there stiffly with my arms down at my sides, in complete shock.
“I didn’t know you two were dating! You are just so adorable together. I can’t stand it! Brent, you treat this girl like a princess, you hear me? She is an absolute sweetheart!”
Oh, I am the worst human being in the world for thinking so badly of Laura when I saw her that night in Brent’s yard.
I thought for sure I was about to have my first chick fight, and now that I know my eyes aren’t about to be clawed out, and with a quick look at Brent to see that he’s staring right at me and not even glancing in Laura’s direction, my confidence quickly comes back.
Before I break down in tears like a big baby, I fling my arms around the woman and give her another hug, turning my head a little to whispe
r in her ear.
“Thank you for the blowjob thing. It’s all because of you that I freed the cock.”
I pull back with a huge smile on my face, while Laura stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Okay, well, you two have a good evening.”
As soon as she walks away, Brent grabs my hand again and laces his fingers through mine as we walk out the front door.
“I’m sorry, but was that weird? We only went on one date. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
“Nope, not weird at all,” I tell him, and I actually mean it.
He’s with me tonight, not Laura, or someone like Laura. He’s with me. Dorky, adorable, original Heidi. And he still wants to hold my hand. And he isn’t running away. And he’s smiling at me with that sexy dimpled smile, and he’s asking me what we should do next, and I’m back to being so giddy I can’t stand it.
“I have an idea what we could do next, but we’re gonna need to drive there.”
“This is so fucking cool,” Brent says, staring across the street in awe.
I decided to end our evening at another one of my favorite spots, Paisley Park. It used to be the artist Prince’s private estate, and sadly, it’s where he died. It’s since been turned into a museum and is open to the public. Technically, we’re not on the actual grounds of Paisley Park, because it’s 9:00 p.m. and the museum is closed. We parked, and Brent pulled a blanket out of the backseat of his truck, spreading it out on an empty, grassy area across the street from the museum. We’re sitting side-by-side with our shoulders touching and our legs stretched out in front of us, staring at the massive white structure across the way, which is lit up with purple lights, almost making it look like the sky above it is glowing purple.
“So, why did you move here from L.A.? And why didn’t you stay in Minneapolis?” I ask after we spend a few quiet minutes staring at the lights.
“Going right for the deep stuff, huh?” he asks with a soft laugh.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”
He bumps his shoulder against mine and gives me a reassuring smile.
“I’m just kidding. It’s weird. I feel like I’ve known you forever, and we’ve talked a bunch of times since I moved in, but not about anything important. I’m just going to warn you; this will sound way more dramatic than it actually is.”
“Oh jeez. Are you on the run from the law or something?”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “Seriously, stop being adorable. I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you don’t stop.”
I lean back and wait for him to continue, trying to be as un-adorable as possible.
“So, yeah.” He sighs. “I moved here for a woman. Someone I had been dating for about a year back in L.A. We both worked for the same bank, and she was asked to transfer to Minneapolis to be a branch manager. So, I requested a transfer and went with her.”
“Wait! You were a banker? Like, you wore a suit and tie to work every day and crunched numbers at a desk?” Before tonight, I’d only ever seen him in ratty jeans and T-shirts, always comfortable with working outside and being dirty and sweaty, so I just assumed it’s what he’d always done.
“Yep. I was a nine-to-five corporate man. It wasn’t until we moved out here into a high-rise apartment in downtown Minneapolis that I realized how miserable I was,” he tells me. “I lived in a suburb of L.A. Close enough to the hustle and bustle of the big city, but far enough away that it was quiet and peaceful when I needed it to be. Living right in the middle of the city, with all the noise and chaos, just didn’t make me happy. I quickly realized working in a bank didn’t make me happy anymore either. I took a road trip one day to clear my head and stumbled across Waconia. I loved everything about it. When I tried to convince Megan to move out here, she wasn’t having it. She couldn’t survive without a twenty-four-hour concierge or a Starbucks within throwing distance. That was when I realized Megan didn’t make me happy.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m not. We weren’t right for each other. She wanted to be with someone who enjoyed constant pampering just like she did, and that’s just not me. When I told her I quit my job and one of my friends from back home who owns his own construction company got me a job out here, I thought her head would explode. We ended things, I bought the bungalow next to yours, and now I get to work outside during the warm months, and snowplow in the winter months, and I’ve never been happier. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance. Life is short. Why should you spend it being miserable? Plus, if I was still a banker in Minneapolis, I wouldn’t be here with you right now, looking out at a purple sky.”
He’s staring across the street at Paisley Park, and I’m staring at his profile, wondering if I could safely perform one of the maneuvers in a book I read. Something about straddling the guy’s lap and kissing the heck out of him. Brent’s head slowly turns to face me, and our noses are just a few inches apart. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest as I try to remember all the mechanics of the scene I read, like where to put my hands, and do I have to stand first and then just sort of squat over him before plopping down on his lap? And is it customary to warn someone before you do something like that or do you just jump right on him? Everything I read is swirling together in my head until scenes start getting mixed up, and fingers are going in ears, and tongues are licking eyebrows, and I start to panic that I’m going to completely screw this up.
“You look way too serious right now. Quick, tell me the craziest thing you’ve ever done, so I don’t feel like an idiot for spewing all of that just now,” Brent pleads.
I think of my podcast, but there’s no way in heck I’m telling him about that right now—or ever.
“So, when I was student teaching, one of our arts and crafts projects was to make something the students loved out of a paper plate, and then we’d hang them around the classroom as decorations,” I speak quickly. “One of my students wrote ‘I love pussies’ in big letters on his plate. I asked him whatever he meant by writing such a thing, and he told me he loved pussy cats. Well, I couldn’t very well display his work. So while it was drying, I snuck it into the bottom of the garbage can and told him it must have flown out the window. The poor kid was distraught, but to this day, I stand by my decision to destroy a child’s artwork and lie about it. Not that there’s anything wrong with the word he used, but there’s more than one meaning for it, and one of those meanings is completely inappropriate for his age level.”
I blow out a huge breath of air when I’m finished, my nerves not quite as shot as they were a few minutes ago. Glancing over at Brent, I see him sitting there with a huge smile on his face, shaking his head at me.
“Never, ever change, Heidi Larson,” he tells me.
Chapter 21
Heidi’s Discount Erotica, Episode 7
“Welcome to Heidi’s Discount Erotica, do-do-do! I’m a little bit in shock right now, and not just because I had the most amazing date in the history of dates last night, but because it looks like I now have a few thousand new listeners! I’m going to assume my friend Penelope Sharp might have mentioned it to her readers—so hi, Penelope Sharp fans! I don’t know whether to thank her or spank her. Oh! That was dirty and I didn’t even mean for it to be. I’m going to try to not be nervous that there are so many of you out there listening to me ramble.
“Just to give you a quick update on the whole ‘finding the new me’ thing, it seems to be going well. I’m starting to realize I don’t need to completely change who I am as a person, on the outside or on the inside. Some people like me just the way I am. I just want to be… more. I want to be a three-dimensional person. I don’t want people to look at me and only think, ‘Oh, she’s so cute.’ I want them to look at me and see lots of things. Things about myself I never even felt before now. I want them to see someone who’s strong, confident, sexy, bold, and fearless. And I want to feel those things within myself as well. I’m getting there. Slowly but surely! And
just between you and me, I think my neighbor is going to do a bang-up job helping me get there.
“Oh! I said bang! I didn’t mean it like that! Wait, maybe I did. I’m just out of control!
“Speaking of my neighbor, like I said, our date was amazing. He was amazing. What wasn’t all that amazing was that it ended with a kiss. On the cheek. There was all this crazy tension as we stood there on my front porch at the end of the night, just staring into each other’s eyes, and I thought for sure he would do it. Sadly, no. My friend told me I should have just grabbed his shirt, yanked him to me, and laid one on him. Which of course made me immediately call her crazy. But she’s right. I could have taken charge of the situation and taken what I wanted, but I didn’t. Because I was scared. Because cute, one-dimensional Heidi is still in there somewhere screaming, ‘Oh, my God nooo! What if he laughs at you? What if you suck at kissing and he makes fun of you? What if what happens the night you drunk-texted him happens and you punch him again?’
“No more being scared allowed! I’m putting my foot down. Which brings us to my next exercise. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you—Heidi’s Dirty Dictionary! I will go through the alphabet coming up with as many dirty words as I can, so I can get them all out there in the world and practice just breaking the rules. So, don’t hold it against me. I know you probably know most of these words already, and might even use them daily. Good for you! Oh, if there are kids around, which I really hope going by the name of my podcast there aren’t, but still, if there are kids in your general vicinity, it would be super if you just… send them outside or something. Whew! Here we go.
“A is for… ass. Or asshole.
“B is for… I was gonna say butt. That won’t do. Ummmm, B is for boobs. Breasts. Balls. Oooh, boner! That’s a good one.
“C is for cock. And, you know, the word that rhymes with… punt. Oh! And climax! Yeah, that’s a good one. That’s a reeeally good one… I almost did that last night after all the sweet things my neighbor said to me, and the way he looked at me, and how good he smelled.”