Gawain: Like?
Guinevere: Hmmm … intimate supplies, 3 boxes….
Gawain: Three boxes of what?
Guinevere:
Gawain: Oh…
Gawain: OH!
Gawain: OHHHHHHHH!
Gawain: ARE YOU PLANNING TO TRY AND KILL ME?
Guinevere: Lmao!! No, silly, I didn’t know …what size, so I got one of each.
Gawain: Whew!! I’m not 25 anymore. I can do an honest night’s work, but three boxes in a weekend…. That’s asking a lot!!!
Guinevere: Calm down…
Gawain: No, Guin, slow down…. I wouldn’t be able to pee straight for days!
Guinevere: I’m laughing, but now I’m wondering why you aren’t thinking this, too. Oh heavens I am so embarrassed.
Gawain: No, I have thought about it. More and more recently, but I can take care of those things…. Take those BOXES back to the store.
Guinevere: Well, I also saw my doctor and got my papers.
Gawain: Papers?
Guinevere: Clean bill of health…. HIV free….
Gawain: So to make sure I am perfectly clear here … what you are asking …
Guinevere: Yes …
Gawain: You are ready for some of this sexy?
Guinevere: Lol
Gawain: Okay, jokes aside, is that really what you want?
Guinevere: Well, I would like the rest of the stuff that goes with it, but to start, I would love a romantic evening with you.
Gawain: As you request, Milady.
Guinevere: Just like that?
Gawain: Ah hell, I was thinking it, too, and didn’t want to push you too fast, and I didn’t know how to ask, and then I found I had to go to New York… And you said never on a first date… which I am REALLY okay with…
Guinevere: What next?
Gawain: Let’s put some safety nets in place. East coast is your thing, you pick the place, I’ll be there Thursday night.
Guinevere: What city?
Gawain: I fly a lot and I hate it each time I have to board a plane. If you can come to me that would be great, if not, pick anywhere between Philly and NYC and I will meet you.
Guinevere: Lodging?
Gawain: I am usually booked at the New Yorker in Midtown, let me know if you need my card number or anything.
Guinevere: Nope I got it….
Gawain: Slow down a minute Guin….
Guinevere: What’s wrong?
Gawain: Work has not been going very well and I have been home longer than I ever have before, and there are some issues as to why I have to come to New York.
Guinevere: Meaning what exactly?
Gawain: That’s the thing, I don’t know.
Guinevere: It’s been three months and I have to ask, what do you do for living?
Gawain: I work in hedge funds and futures.
Guinevere: Well your futures may be impacting ours….
Gawain: If you ask me….
Guinevere: Ask you what?
Gawain: ….to give it all up….
Guinevere: Would you?
Gawain: If I asked you, would you?
Guinevere: Good question.
Gawain: Futures are like romance, Milady. They require reciprocity. I’m not coming to you for a night of passion. I can get sex anytime, anywhere. What I want is a life. Good night.
Guinevere: Good night?
Gawain: Think on it for a few days and I will touch base before I leave on Tuesday. Until then….
And he signed off, not another word just signed off. Guinevere wanted to send him a scorching email about his behavior, but then began to question her own. She had just told him she wanted to spend a weekend smelling him and using up a box of condoms! He was a gentleman not only once, but twice, oh hell three times, for when she mentioned the three sizes, he didn’t even comment on which size he needed. I sure hope it isn’t the small ones .
This also meant that he didn’t plan to talk to her tomorrow or Monday. Son of a biscuit eater! She had three days to suffer through asking a man to rub his goatee down her spine! Oh crap!
Did he think that meant doggy style or…
Please, someone kill me now… She threw her head back on the couch feeling irritated at allowing her body parts to think for her.
Wait, he would be here in three days. Oh shoot! She needed to be shaved and pampered herself, manicure, pedicure, hair… Oh gracious!
25
Change in Plans
Sunday and Monday were mental anguish for Gawain. He kept replaying the transcript in his mind and was proud that he behaved like a gentleman. Small, medium and large boxes of condoms, and he managed to hold his tongue not commenting on it at all.
Have I ever used a whole box in one weekend?
How many are actually in a box?
How many little blues would be needed to get a man through a whole box?
Obsessing over the condom issue finally ended when he realized she wanted him and was ready to spend a weekend with him. A weekend with enough activity to use a whole box would probably hurt and cause a man a lot of pain. Gawain had ended the conversation abruptly for fear that he would say something totally inappropriate like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her, or how he wanted to describe all the things he wanted to do.
The “smell of him” she said she wanted to experience. The whole kiss thing down her spine and the feel of his goatee…that was hot! Wearing his shirt the next morning while she served him breakfast was almost a breaking moment, and he wanted to pack his bags and head to Princeton, showing up on her doorstep with a box of prophylactics.
He gave Ti a couple of drops of water as he debated whether the little fella should make the journey to the Big Apple to say hi to his momma.
He got a kick out the gift when he checked the PO Box two weeks earlier. He had been bored on Friday night when he made the baseball bat out of celery and thought it funny to take the cactus to the park. He sat Ti on the nightstand and clicked off the lamp.
The last two nights had been fitful and tomorrow he had a flight out. He would touch base with Guinevere in the morning to see where dinner would be, and he only hoped she would be coming to him.
The fitful night caused him to oversleep and he was now running late. He packed Ti in a hard case that was reserved for prized baseballs and grabbed his Blackberry, laptop, keys, suitcase, and they were on the way.
His phone chirped with an email, “Room service, your hotel.” He dropped the suitcase, the keys, the phone, and almost Ti.
“God, I love New York!” he said as he loaded the Audi, synced his phone, and put the car into gear. Pulling away from the parking space, he headed to SFO to take a nonstop to the Big Apple. This was going to be a week and weekend he would not soon forget.
The week was a disaster. Distribution channels were bogged down, trade restrictions had been imposed because of the increase in the terrorist threat levels, and nothing, absolutely nothing was being shipped, and Dixon and Morgan were losing a fortune. It was up to Gawain to get to Asia, find new sources, new futures, and new investments. He was expected in Hong Kong on Thursday, Shanghai on Tuesday, Vietnam the following week, a quick stop in the Philippines, and possibly Kuala Lumpur.
Why in the hell did I have to fly across country to be told this in person? A phone call could have accomplished the same thing. He didn’t need Bob Dixon to look him in the eye and stress the importance of what was needed. I know my job. He knew, he understood, he had done this a million times. This also did not require his boss, William Underwood, to leave Chicago to come hold his hand as Jim Morgan shook his turkey-gobbled neck while he explained the market downturn. This, he was certain, was going to be his last trip, and he would end it on a high note.
How am I going to explain this to Guinevere?
There was nothing he could say that could explain a six-to-eight-week absence that would not make him look like a total loser and game player. Every worst-case scenario popped into his head and the tho
ught of losing her really bothered him.
He took off his shirt and sealed it in one of the zippered plastic bags he used to transport his wet workout clothes. He took the bag and closed up Ti. He took it to the front desk and asked the clerk to make sure it got in the mail immediately. Gawain boarded the plane, headed back to SFO, repacked, and was ready to board a plane on Wednesday morning, but first he sent a quick note to Guinevere:
“Change of plans, have to head to Asia for 6-8 weeks. Check your PO Box, take care of Ti, will contact you when I hit Hong Kong”.
- Sir Gawain
With heavy head and heart, he boarded the aircraft, knowing it would be days before he could contact her. He hoped she would forgive him and would still want him when he returned.
She got his message. She unpacked her suitcase and sat on the side of the bed.
Gawain was a liar.
He was some fat guy who was playing with her emotions. He even sent back the plant.
It had to be real. This couldn’t be a game. The connection felt so right. So right in fact she had been willing to break her cardinal rule of being with a man on the first date. Yet, she had been willing to give herself to him. Not thoughts about how he looked or even if he had a full set of teeth. He had romanced her with his words. And now he was gone.
Asia. Asia?
Of all the damn places in the world. Guinevere was devastated.
She had the day off and decided to at least go get the stupid cactus Ti. There was no need for their “love child” to suffer. She got the package from the mailbox, picked up some chunky monkey ice cream and a bad movie from Redbox, and headed home.
She reluctantly opened the package and gave Ti a few drops of water. Inside she also found his shirt, slightly scented with his cologne. The shirt still had his tie, slightly askew, and his cufflinks were still attached to the wrist.
The smell of him made her heady…. She clutched the shirt, plopping on the couch, wrapping her arms around it. A card fell out of the package. Strong male handwriting had scribbled her name on the front. She opened it and read, in his penmanship:
“Forgive me, but duty called. I can’t apologize because it is my job. I will contact you as much as I can, and I will be in constant contact one way or another. I will keep you posted. When I return, I want to see you. I only hope and pray you will feel the same way.”
-Falling for you-
–Gawain
26
Deciphering the Clues
Smooth grooves were playing on the radio as she ran her fingers over the three initials on the Ralph Lauren shirt. If it was actually his shirt, he was not fat. He was tall, too, at least six-foot-two.
His initials sent her mind into a tizzy. DJD was a man of mystery, a man of secrets and a man who had stepped out on a limb. Precautions could have been taken, she could have chosen her own hotel, and she could have met him in Napa and booked a room nearest the police station, but she should have shown him she was interested. Her fear was becoming her prison guard and instead of using this time to venture out, she began to feel as if she was becoming more reclusive.
Gawain had been gone for two weeks.
Did I take too long to answer his request of where I wanted to meet him?
Maybe I should have agreed to have dinner at his hotel. That was an indication of interest, right?
Maybe I’ve been married to my work for too long and I really don’t know how to relate to a man.
Guinevere had difficulty interacting and an even lower tolerance for trifling individuals who sought to use and abuse another. Her sister, Cecily, was always her buffer from the world.
Her parents, married for 38 years, were educators, and her mother a science teacher, which for the time was unusual. Her father was aware that her mother was far brighter than he, but he allowed her to channel her knowledge of science and chemistry to her daughters, knowing full well that all the things Rosalyn Murphy had wanted to accomplish would be realized through her daughters. Guinevere held both a PhD and an MD from John Hopkins University, while her sister was an MD specializing in metabolic disorders. Cecily was a lifesaver on the clinical trials of Fat Buster 35, and when the product went to market, she became the face of Affinity Laboratory, Guinevere’s flagship company.
Guinevere was able to remain in the lab and focus on the work while Cecily was the face of the organization. It was okay with her, and even though she and her sister were complete opposites, the company worked because they understood one another. Cecily did encourage her to date, but after watching her sister’s man of the hour and flavor of the week, she often thought her next drug would be a hormonal elixir that allowed women to only attract men with whom they were compatible.
Sighing, she hung the shirt in her closet and headed toward bed. Maybe it was for the best. She would be fine. Clinical trials were around the corner on GGU285, and so much work needed to be done. She would throw herself into her work and would forget all about Sir Gawain the Game Player.
A week later, she was ready to throw herself into a wall. She was so lonely, she actually slept with that stupid shirt, cried all over it on Tuesday, slow danced with it in a dark room on Wednesday, and by Friday, she had scissors in her hands to kill it. Guinevere was disappointed with herself and frustrated beyond measure. How did I become one of those women? She failed to understand how this man could have infiltrated and impacted her life so quickly. A few sexy and big words and she was out being rubbers for a hot and steamy night with a loser. That’s what he was. Gawain was a loser! Die loser!
The computer pinged and she dropped the scissors, running to her laptop. She had a message!
“Check your mail box tomorrow.”
There was hope. She didn’t know what to expect, or if this was still some form of a game, but three more weeks to go was a bit much. She thought that maybe she could find out where he was and hop a plane and throw herself at his feet. The dramatic vision that floated across her mind made her laugh out loud. I am reacting like a crazed woman!
All would be well.
Everyone in the lab noted the difference in her mood when she showed up with some pep in her step and was actually smiling and friendly. The change did not escape her sister’s notice either, and she remarked, “Well, whatever he said or did, tell him I said thank you. Your ass was acting like you had O.D’d on the dick. Or having withdrawals from it…” She chunked the words over her shoulder in passing still mumbling…acting like a crazy person.
Guinevere started to follow her and make a funny retort, but she knew that it would lead to one of their not so friendly bouts of Cecily trying to tell her how to live her life. Her sister was only two years older, but she acted as if she knew it all. Cecily was unmarried, had no children, and had no intention of ever settling down. Her parents were worried that they would never be grandparents and had given up on broaching the subject with either daughter. I want kids. And I plan to have plenty when I get married. I wouldn’t even mind getting started right away.
Guinevere could not wait until lunch to go to her mailbox, nearly breaking a speed record to get to the post office. Slowly turning the key, she peered inside the dark well and found the box to be empty.
What the hell was that about?
Maybe he thought something would be here by now but it wasn’t. Maybe she was too early, and she was bummed out a bit, and decided to take the afternoon off instead of exposing her staff to her funky mood. As she was closing the door, the backdoor of the mailbox opened and in slid a single postcard, postmarked from Hong Kong. She looked at the card and for a moment was confused. It was made out to her and was from Gawain, but the message threw her for a loop.
種語言永遠不夠
She didn’t know what it said, but figured since it was from Hong Kong, it was in Cantonese.
Well isn’t he clever?
Do I know anyone who speaks Cantonese?
She thought about her favorite Chinese restaurant and headed to see Mr. Lee. She showed him the
card, and he informed her that he spoke Mandarin.
Her next stop was her dry cleaner, but he was from Vietnam. At this rate she was not going to miss Gawain because she was going to fly to Hong Kong and kill him. Wait. Was he actually in Hong Kong or had he gone through some elaborate ruse to string her along?
Negative.
I am thinking negative again.
Positive.
Find the positive in this scenario.
He was engaging her from halfway around the world. He was finding a way to connect them so that they could remain in contact. His clever ploy took her three days to locate someone who spoke Cantonese to translate the message.
The phrase simply said “one language is never enough.” She felt almost disappointed that the card had not said more. She expected something more in detail, and as she logged in to Yahoo, she had another message from him.
“Heading to Taiwan tomorrow, check your box.”
Did this mean the next message would be in Taiwanese?
Is that a language?
What do the people in Taiwan speak?
Guinevere felt embarrassed that she didn’t even know. She did know that in the past three days she had spoken and conversed with people she worked with and did business with for years and shamefully realized she knew nothing about them. Her day-to-day interactions with others had become so routine, so cut and dry, that people were shocked when she actually engaged them in conversation.
Well, today she would start over. Mr. Hung at the local market had gladly translated the words for her and she took the next card to him as well. This one was in Chinese.
你要唔要同我跳舞
She felt lightheaded. She could not remember the last time she felt this type of euphoria. Mr. Hung told her the card asked, “Would you like to dance with me?”
Courting Guinevere (The Davonshire Series Book 1) Page 15