The Art of Seduction

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by Kayla C. Oliver


  “Earth to Rob,” Troy said, sitting down next to me. “You still in there?”

  “Uh, yeah, sorry,” I said, straightening up in my chair. “What did you ask me?”

  “Are you bringing a date to wedding?”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah, those things you bring with you in hopes that one day you, too, will no longer live a lonely bachelorhood,” Troy said, laughing. “There has to be some girl out there that will enjoy a bearded kiss.”

  “Hey, my beard is my greatest asset,” I said, scrunching my brows. “It gives me a mysterious look.”

  “If by mysterious you mean hobo,” he chuckled.

  “I will not be bringing a date,” I said, ignoring his comment. “I don’t mind going stag. Way less stressful.”

  “Or you could stop being so picky and just grab one of the million beautiful women in this city,” he said. “Seriously, pal, I think it’s time that you started to put yourself out there. You’re in your thirties now. No girl is going to want some bearded old guy, no matter how much money you have or how many mountains you climb.”

  “I appreciate the advice,” I said, shaking my head. “But I don’t think I’m old quite yet.”

  “I could set you up with someone,” Melinda said, popping into the picture. “There are a ton of single, hot girls at my office. I mean, we already have one person fraternizing with the enemy; why not make it two?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said, trying not to laugh. “I do appreciate the thought, though. I don’t think you know anyone that would really be interested in me anyway. I’m a rare breed, and I don’t want to scare any of your marketers away.”

  “I have to back Rob up on this one, honey, I’m sorry,” Troy said, smiling. “You’ve never really been the greatest at matchmaking. Besides, you work so much that I’m pretty sure you don’t even know half of your coworkers’ names.”

  “You may be right, but I could give it a try,” she said indignantly.

  “Aw, you’re perfect, sweetie,” Troy teased. “But stick with business. I think that everyone will be better off that way.”

  “You’re a butthead,” she grumbled, kissing him on the cheek.

  “All right, guys,” Troy said, laughing and swatting Melinda on the butt. “I have some celebratory cigars we should all smoke. Let’s go out front and leave the ladies to their wedding talk.”

  “I’m right there,” I said, more than happy to not hear about another wedding bouquet or be coerced into a setup with some woman I already knew I wouldn’t get along with.

  I grabbed my coat and put it on, ignoring Troy’s eye roll as his eyes slowly moved down to my worn-down boots. He chuckled and laughed, smacking me on the shoulder. I followed everyone out to the front and took a cigar, lighting it and thinking about how much I didn’t enjoy them. I was only half-listening to the guys talking about the bachelor party that was already in the works. They were way too excited about strippers and whiskey, especially since none of them ever went to strip clubs. I couldn’t really understand the meaning behind it. I had offered a weekend away in the woods, fishing, doing man stuff, but Troy had just laughed it off.

  I looked up as I dusted the ash off my shoe and stopped, noticing a familiar face across the street. It was Tiffany, from the bar, sitting in the deli across the street with another girl. I had never seen her outside the bar, and I couldn’t help but think about how pretty she looked. Her eyes were sparkling as she laughed with her friend, and her hair was down around her shoulders, large curls billowing down. I wondered if she would ever consider going out with a guy like me.

  The loud roar of laughter from the guys brought me back to my cigar. It was a pointless thought. Her friend looked just like the girls inside, and I knew that if I took her out, it would most likely end up like every other date I had ever been on. I would sit there nodding my head, bored out of my mind, and she would leave, irritated that I didn’t seem at all interested in hearing about her day spa trip or time at the salon. It was a useless thought that someone from the city would be anything like me.

  I sighed and pulled the cigar to my lips, puffing away. I was trying to keep my mind on the guys and what they were talking about. One of Troy’s biggest gripes was me not being present, and since we were talking about his big day, I figured I should probably at least attempt to focus. Still, thoughts of Tiffany seeped in and out, and I glanced up several times, hoping to catch her gaze. There was something about that girl that had caught my attention, and it was just another thing that I knew was going to make me want to get out of the city even more. The last thing I needed was daydreams that would never come true.

  Chapter Five

  Tiffany

  As my feet hit the pavement over and over, I counted my steps, something I always did when I went for runs. The monotonous counting kept me focused, letting my mind run through all the thoughts that had been clogging up through the week. I was really glad that I had Central Park to run in; without it, I must might go nuts living in the city with no trees or grass around.

  I looked up as I ran, passing several older couples out for an early morning stroll, and let my feet start to slow as I approached the water in the center of the park. I cut over across the grass and started walking, letting my breath catch up with me as I crossed over to an empty bench and dusted the birdseed off before sitting down and rolling my shoulders. It was my normal Sunday routine, jogging through the park, and my mind was all over the place. It usually would make me feel better, but so far, not today.

  I crossed my legs and relaxed back on to the metal bench, looking out over the water. The sun was just starting to peak over the edge of the park. I zipped up my coat, feeling the cool chill of that spring morning. It wouldn’t be long until I was dying of heat exhaustion and dizzy from the smell of the hot asphalt streets. If I were in upstate, I would still need a fleece and an undercoat to go running.

  I really loved the cold weather and could remember counting down the days until winter when I was a kid. The cool air on my face, the smell of snow looming in the clouds above, really did something for my mentality. Upstate Vermont had warm summers, but they at least had the breeze off of the lakes to keep the temperatures manageable.

  In my perfect world I would live off the map in a mountain cottage with a huge attached greenhouse to grow my own food. I wouldn’t rely on anyone but myself, and I’d only shop if it were absolutely necessary. I was a vegetarian, so a meat source wouldn’t be necessary. I would live my life just how I wanted, taking others on outdoor excursions and creating some beautiful art in my spare time. I might even start making pottery and burning it in a wood kiln in my spare time.

  I closed my eyes and pictured my life if I had my way, the smell of lavender wafting into my small mountain cottage. I could see the pot of vegetable stew piping hot on the stove and my hiking gear sitting in the front, beckoning for me to use it. I would wake up every day and run through the woods, watching all the sights and sounds of nature around me. As I let those thoughts simmer in my mind, my eyes shot open at the sound of police sirens coming from outside of the park. I sighed and opened my eyes back up, remembering where I was.

  I got up from the bench and stretched my legs, starting to move forward until I reached a jog again. I ran down the path and around the park, watching as the birds nested in the trees. There were dog walkers, joggers, and cyclists, all making their morning move, trying to get their taste of nature before the tourists descended on the park.

  I headed back out toward the subway, almost depressed as I reached the entrance to the park where the grass turned to cement walkways and I had to force myself back into city life.

  I slowed to a walk, merging into the foot traffic headed for my subway station. I stopped at a coffee cart and bought a cup, smelling the stale hot brew inside. It had become a taste that I was accustomed to, though I didn’t ever really enjoy. I headed down to the station just as my train pulled up, squeezed inside, and sat down
in the crowd. The lights flickered above my head and the voice came over the speaker, telling people to stand back as the train began to move.

  Almost instantly, I lost the feeling I’d had in the park, now unable to tear my mind away from the smell of body odor and cologne that wafted through the train. The dismal walls of the tunnels passed outside of the windows of the train and I felt like a wild animal, caged away from the real world. Graffiti peppered everything, including the passing trains, displaying names and words that didn’t make sense to anyone but the artist. The lights continued to flicker overhead, and I listened to the train scrape along the tracks, the hum of someone’s iPod blaring to the side of me.

  I shifted back, and then forward again, as the train came to a stop at my station. I reached up and grabbed the pole, pulling my self to my feet. I was back to Brooklyn, and back to my reality. I walked like a zombie in tune with everyone else around me, out of the subway and into the streets, where my senses were assaulted by honking cars and loud music. I turned and walked away from the foot traffic toward my apartment.

  When I got inside, I tossed the old coffee in the trash, stopping to realize that I had never actually finished one cup of coffee from my Sunday runs. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed three steps into the living room, where I plopped down on the couch and flipped on the news. There were stories of crime, world events, and everything else in between, but I couldn’t get my mind to focus. So instead I opened my laptop and went to my Facebook page, where my mother had tagged me in photos of their latest adventure. I smiled, happy to know that someone was out there enjoying life.

  I closed the laptop and sat there, staring out my window at the building not far away. I was in a slump, a major one, probably the worst I’d had seen since moving to New York. What I needed were some lighter thoughts, a simpler view of the world that I definitely wouldn’t get from staring at Instagram, Facebook, or the news. I picked up my phone and scrolled down, stopping at my mother’s number. She always knew what to say to make me feel better. I pressed call and held the phone to my ear.

  “Hi, honey,” she said loudly. “Hold on. Let me put you on speaker so your father can say hello too.”

  “Hey, sweetie,” my dad yelled into the speaker.

  “Hey, guys,” I chuckled. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re out on the porch, watching the frost melt off the grasses,” my mother said, the sound of her rocking chair squeaking in the background. “It’s still cold, but not too bad. So, when are you going to give up that city life and come actually start living? You know you can always come here until you have your feet on the ground.”

  “Thanks,” I snorted. “But like I told you before, I have a good job that allows me to really save up money, more than if I lived rent-free off you guys, working at the diner.”

  “And tell me again, why do you need all this money?” My dad never got it.

  “For the business I want to start when I get out of here,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, the guide business,” he said. “I still don’t know why you need so much money for that.”

  “I need a house, equipment … You know what? Never mind. Tell me about your next trip,” I said, changing the subject.

  “We’re headed to New Mexico,” my mom said happily. “There’s a festival out there that we want to attend. You should come with us; it would be a lot of fun.”

  “I wish I could,” I sighed.

  “You can,” my father said. “But you have other priorities, and that’s okay.”

  “We just want you to be happy,” my mom added sincerely.

  I wanted to be happy too, and that was what I was trying to do. I talked to them for a little bit longer, not feeling much better at all. When I got done, I walked back into the kitchen and made myself a smoothie for breakfast. I had the same breakfast almost every morning, trying to take in as much good stuff as I could to counteract the pollution I breathed in from the city every day. When I was done making it, I headed back to the chair, staring outside once more.

  I knew that something had to change, or I wasn’t going to survive living in the city much longer. It was an option to go live at my parents’ place, but I had been on my own for so long that my own personal ego wouldn’t allow me to even start thinking about that as a real option. Instead, I had to try to figure out what to do to make the best of where I was.

  The time ticked by as I watched the morning turn slowly into the afternoon. Finally, I stood up, deciding I didn’t have much choice. I needed to get out of the city. I would just find a cover for my Friday shift and head out of town to Watkins Glen Gorge. It was only about five hours outside of the city, but far enough away for me to completely separate myself from the noise.

  I needed some fresh air, some hiking trails, and some rest and relaxation. I was afraid it was the only thing that could really pull me from that funk. There was a small bed and breakfast that I always stayed at and I was sure that this time of year it would still be slow, especially since it hadn’t really warmed up out there yet. There might even still be some snow on the ground at the gorge, which would help me feel a million miles away.

  I knew exactly what I would do when I got there. I would check in, have a nice dinner, go for a short hike, and then go to bed. I would spend the next day and a half just listening to the birds, putting my hiking boots to use, and maybe even do a little kayaking, if they had any rentals. I smiled, thinking about my plan, already feeling the stress melting off of my shoulders. It was only a week away, which normally would feel like an eternity, but with plans on the horizon, I knew I could survive until I was in my car, watching the city disappear into the rear-view mirror.

  Chapter Six

  Rob

  I swung the rake up over my head and buried it in the hard ground, grunting as I pulled it back, tilling up the dirt in my backyard, trying to start the soil to get ready for the planting that would happen after the last frost. I didn’t have a huge space to work with, but I would make do and create the best garden that I could. I had bought a ton of books and researched every plant and vegetable that would grow well there, finally narrowing it down to seven. If I could get half of those to bloom or sprout in the first year, I would count it as a success. Hopefully, in time, I would have the whole yard overflowing with plants and vegetation.

  This would be the first year I had my garden, having put it off until the renovations were done. If the weather were more constant, it would have been the first thing I would have done when moving in, but I wasn’t sure how much time I would need to devote to the thing. I ended up deciding that having a livable house was higher on my priorities, so I did that before the garden. Weather in New York tended to be a bit unpredictable, with snow late into the spring sometimes. I loved upstate New York, but even there the shift in temperature could be temperamental. I figured why not give it a shot anyways, eventually I would know what to do and what not to do.

  I wanted the simple life so bad, but I knew I would never fully find it in New York City, no matter how far into the suburbs I got. So, instead of moping and being depressed, I decided to make as homegrown of a life as I could inside the confines of city life, even if there were cars constantly whizzing by and sounds of sirens blaring in the background. One thing I’d learned from my parents and their death was to make the most of the time I had and do everything I wanted to do, within reason, of course. And a garden was exactly what I wanted to do with my new place.

  I swiped another row of dirt and set the hoe down, leaning it against the fence. I looked up away from the city and could see the sun just starting to come up over the hedges. The chill was already starting to settle, which meant it was going to be a warmer day than I had first thought. I walked over to the porch, swiped my forearm across my face, and grabbed my coffee. Taking a sip, I enjoyed the moment. It felt really good to be making my space as livable as possible. Maybe I could just build a bubble around myself and live my life here that way.

  I pulled up the ch
air on the porch and dusted it off before taking a seat and propping my legs up on the railing. I looked out over the yard at all the work I had done since I bought the place. The entire yard had been overgrown, and the fence had been in pieces. It looked like a brand-new place now, and I was proud of my work. Still, I had a ton of things left to do, especially if I wanted the garden area ready for planting very soon. I was really happy that I had this place right outside my backdoor. It was going to be my spot, my place of Zen after a long hard day at work.

  I smiled and finished my coffee before putting my gloves back on and heading out to finish up with my work for the day. I could keep going all day, preparing, but this was my first day working on it and I didn’t want to wear myself out. I wanted to be excited to go out there and work with my hands, growing food myself, even if I didn’t get a chance to eat it. None of it would ever go to waste, though. I would make sure that everything I grew got eaten or used in some way or another. I was sure the people I worked with at work would love to have some home-grown veggies from the boss and if they didn’t, the soup kitchen definitely would take them to feed the hungry.

  When I was done breaking up the ground, I headed inside and jumped into the shower. I had to get cleaned up, because, not matter how much I hated it, it was grocery day. I decided that I was going to take the car and head away from the city to get it done. It was going to be a beautiful day for a drive and I didn’t want to miss it. I had been cooped up inside all winter and though there was no guarantee that winter was over, at least this one day felt like spring. Fall was my favorite season, with the crisp leaves, the upcoming holidays, and the beautiful colors, but spring was definitely a close second. It was like the whole world was waking up again. Just thinking about it made me want to be in the woods, hiking toward a climb, watching the flowers pop up through any bit of remaining snow on the ground.

 

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