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by Jackie Pilossoph

  “Would you like to get together this week?” he asked me, “maybe Wednesday night?”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “Should I pick you up or would you feel more comfortable meeting somewhere?”

  “Let’s meet,” I answered. Judging by all of my recent experiences, providing my own transportation was a must.

  “Okay. I’ll call you Wednesday and we’ll figure out where and what time.”

  I told him that was perfect, and then we exchanged cell numbers.

  “Great!” he said happily in his high, borderline Irish brogue.

  “Hey, Denny?” I said right before we hung up, “I hope you don’t think I’m psycho or desperate or anything.”

  “Please…” was all he said.

  “Thanks. What’s 0-5-0-7 by the way?” Silently I prayed, “Please don’t say my height…please don’t say my height…”

  “My birthday.”

  “Great!” I said as I exhaled, “See you soon.”

  “Good-night,” answered the lover of salsa and The Hangover in his sexy, Irish voice. Now I couldn’t wait to see him in person (again).

  When I hung up the phone, I literally screamed. I let out a high-pitched shriek of joy.

  “What’s going on in here?” I heard my sister ask.

  She had obviously just walked in, and I was thrilled to share my news, so I went running to my entryway shouting, “Oh my God! You’ll never believe it! I have a date with…” I stopped in my tracks when I saw she was not alone. Standing there with her: Tim McMillon.

  “Oh…hi,” I said, giggling.

  “Emma, this is Tim,” said Laura.

  We shook hands. “So great to meet you!” I gushed, trying to get a read on my sister. She looked happy and I surmised the date was going well.

  “Should we have a drink?” Laura asked both Tim and I, “I want to hear the reason for the scream I just heard.”

  “Sure,” Tim and I answered at the same time.

  I glanced at my sister’s date for a split second. He had an attractive face and seemed kind. I was thrilled.

  We made our way into the kitchen and while Tim opened a bottle of Pinot, I got some black bean salsa out of the fridge and some chips from the pantry.

  The three of us sat at the kitchen table eating and drinking, and when Tim commented on the salsa, Laura told him all about my business. He was very complimentary, and told me he had a lot of respect for both my sister and I professionally. I liked this guy more and more as the minutes ticked by. As I watched Laura beam, I thought to myself, ‘finally…’

  I told them all about my night, how it had begun at Sandy’s Ski shop and how I had ended up at dinner with Matt, the pothead, and how he was the one who identified Den0507, the hottie I now had a date with Wednesday night.

  I could tell Laura was happy for me. We exchanged smiles at one point and things seemed perfect. The way Tim and Laura were acting with each other was so natural, not forced, like most first dates. Tim told us about his job, about his divorce, and about his kids. By the end of the hour, I was doing cartwheels in my head over this guy. Finally, Laura had struck gold. I couldn’t find anything even remotely wrong with Tim McMillon.

  “Show Tim Den0507’s profile,” Laura requested.

  I was headed toward my computer when Tim made a suggestion. “Here, just use my iphone.” He picked up his phone and logged on to match dot com.

  I quickly searched the tiny screen, and within ten seconds, Den’s picture and profile popped up. I showed it to Tim.

  “Nice,” he said, nodding at the phone and then reaching over to the bottle of Pinot to give himself another pour.

  “Let me show you…” said my sister, taking the phone out of my hand, “Den’s interests…” She scrolled down with her finger, looking for the information to show Tim. “It says here somewhere that his favorite food is salsa and ch…” Laura suddenly stopped talking and scrolling, and froze.

  “Chips,” I finished for her, “salsa and chips.”

  She remained frozen, and her facial expression had just gone from happy and relaxed, to shock and dismay.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Are you okay?” asked Tim.

  Laura looked at Tim, her eyes glossy. “You just got a text. It’s from Lexie. Let me read it to you.”

  Tim went to grab his phone out of her hand, but Laura pulled away and read the message. “Honey, we’re out of milk. Want me to go shopping tomorrow before you get back?”

  I’m pretty sure I gasped. As for Tim, he took his fingers and ran them through his hair, a total sign he knew he was in deep shit.

  “Are you living with someone?” Laura asked.

  “Hmm…” Tim began, obviously wondering how he was going to weasel his way out of the mess.

  “Sure seems that way,” my sister continued.

  “Listen, I’m going to go upstairs and leave you guys alone to talk.” I disappeared as quickly as I could, and then, although I hate to admit this, I stood at the top of the stairs and eavesdropped. The only way I can rationalize listening to their conversation is that I knew, not only wouldn’t Laura mind, she’d actually want me to hear what went down after I left.

  “Lexie’s my girlfriend,” said Tim, “She doesn’t officially live with me, although she really wants to.”

  “Are you kidding me?” said Laura with a fake, bitter laugh.

  “Look, I really like you,” I heard him urge, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  “You’re missing the point, Tim. I don’t really like you! You’re pathetic. You’re visiting a woman in another city while your girlfriend is hanging out in your house. Please, get out of my face. I can’t look at you.”

  As I stood and listened, I was so proud of my sister. Her voice was relatively calm when she booted Tim, the snake. She didn’t seem by any means, hysterical or upset. She was firm and matter-of-fact when she spoke.

  The next thing I heard was my front door open. “I don’t want to hear from you again,” Laura said, “I’m sure you can understand that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Tim, “I mean it.”

  Laura’s voice softened when she answered. “It’s all right. Comparatively speaking, you’re the best of the three men I’ve been involved with since I got separated, which is pathetically sad and isn’t saying much.”

  “But it’s something,” Tim said in a hopeful voice.

  “If you knew the other guys, you wouldn’t be too thrilled,” she responded. Then I heard the door slam shut, and I heard Laura let out a huge laugh.

  “Did you hear?” she shouted to me.

  I started laughing and came down the stairs, and the two of us howled for a long time. What had just happened really was quite hilarious.

  “My cheeks hurt from laughing,” Laura said after awhile.

  “Mine, too. That whole scene was something out of a movie, wasn’t it?”

  Laura wasn’t too sad or upset that night, but right before she went to bed she did ask me if I would ask Denny if he had any single friends. Her request was both depressing and uplifting to me. I was so sad that my poor sister had again been burned, however, she seemed to be learning that the flaws in these men were entirely their shortcomings, and in no way, shape or form had anything to do with her. Laura was gaining a new self-confidence that was truly evident in her demeanor now. And I loved it. It was as if she’d finally realized that being smart and successful didn’t mean she had a deficiency in the looks department. She knew now that she had both inner and outer beauty. It was wonderful to see how she’d grown in this regard.

  I kissed her good-night, sent her to bed, and then checked my company website while I waited for Izzie to get home. The second my e-mails came up, I noticed one from Winchester Foods. My heart skipped a beat, as I instantly thought about one of the company’s tens of thousands of employees, Preston Christiansen from the Information Systems department.

  I opened the message. It wasn’t from Preston, and there wa
s no connection to him. The e-mail was from Philip Warren. I had no idea who he was.

  “Ms. Bloom,” it read, “I am contacting you because Winchester is interested in acquiring Solo Chicka’s Salsa.”

  I gasped and continued reading.

  “Please call me to discuss this opportunity at your convenience. I’m at 847-555-9888. Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you. Sincerely, Phil Warren, Executive Vice-president, Winchester snacks division.”

  I sat there almost unable to move. Winchester Foods wanted to buy me out?! This was overwhelmingly astonishing. I ran up to Laura’s room and told her about the e-mail. She screamed. “Do you understand what’s happening here? You’re going to make a ton of money!”

  “Really?”

  “Emma, Winchester Foods is going to buy your business!” She jumped out of bed and began jumping up and down and hugging me.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, “You’re right!”

  Right then, I ran to the stereo, got out a Bruce Springsteen CD, put it in the player, and put on Born to Run. I started singing and Laura joined in and played air guitar.

  Not that the lyrics of the song pertained to my situation in any way, shape, or form, but there was something majorly appealing about blaring out my favorite Springsteen song during a moment when I couldn’t have felt better. I could honestly never remember experiencing such self-worth in all my life. Winchester wanted my company! Winchester actually found value and importance in what I had to offer, and they came to me!

  We sang loudly, “Together, Wendy we can live with the sadness…I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul…Oh, someday girl I don’t know when…we’re gonna get to that place we really want to go and we’ll walk in the sun, but till then tramps like us…baby we were born to run…”

  And as I blasted out the lyrics, I thought about how great life was all of a sudden. I had so many good things happening, and so much love around me. I wasn’t sure if I’d love Den0507 with “all the madness in my soul,” but I was certain I was going to have a fabulous date with him on Wednesday night. And I truly loved, and had the love of my parents and Laura, and Izzie, an incredibly amazing little girl who loved me unconditionally, whether I sold my company to Winchester or not.

  As far as all the madness in my soul, I was beginning to realize that it was reserved for someone. It was reserved for the person who’d wiped my bloody knees, the one who was beyond easy to talk to, whose body was next to mine on a towel at the beach, and whose hairy chest I wanted to reach out and touch that day.

  Luke was in my soul now. I had to admit it. Being in his house, crying in his arms, eating pizza with him at his big wood kitchen table, it felt like we belonged with each other. There was something very right about the two of us. Then again, Luke was in a marriage. So, was this wishful thinking? Or was my gut declaring that Luke and I were somehow going to be together?

  I wasn’t sure, but I did know one thing for certain. It took until now, when I had this amazing news to share, to realize that it wasn’t as exciting if I couldn’t tell my friend Luke about it. Hearing the news that Winchester wanted to buy Solo Chicka’s Salsa was like being given the sweetest, richest, most delicious cake on earth, with a piece missing. The piece was Luke Sullivan.

  .

  Chapter 30

  At 8:15 on Wednesday night, I walked into Green Grass, an elegant, yet trendy hot spot a couple of suburbs north of Willow Ridge. I was wearing my two best friends, my Rock & Republic jeans and my Christian Dior smoky eye shadow, a free gift with purchase that gave me eyes as sexy as Angelina Jolie.

  Sitting at the bar with his back to the door was my date, Den0507, sipping a beer. Nervousness enveloped me. After all, I had seen Denny’s picture, and I had even seen him in person briefly, but he had no idea what I looked like. What if there was no attraction on his part? Would I sense that immediately? I wondered. I took a deep breath and then I tapped my date on the shoulder. He turned around.

  “Hi, Denny,” I said with a shy smile.

  Not to be conceited, but Denny was pleased by what he saw. I was sure of it, judging by the smile on his face. He almost seemed relieved, pleasantly surprised.

  He stood up and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, finally,” he said in his adorable, high, Irish voice that I was now beginning to get to know. He was wearing a light sweater that was kind of tight and it was showing off his muscular biceps. I wondered for a split second why on earth no girl had grabbed this guy!

  “Want to sit down and have a drink before dinner?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I smiled.

  Three sips into my first glass of wine, Denny declared, “Okay, so I need to know how you found me. If you’re not on the site, how did you get my name and number?”

  I proceeded to explain very honestly about how I was looking for guys for my sister on the computer, and how I came across his picture. Then I told him about how I saw him walking out of Walgreens one day.

  “Oh my God, I think I remember that,” he said, almost shouting, his high-pitched raspy voice making the volume go up even more, “I knew I knew you from somewhere!”

  “So you remember?” I asked.

  “I do. You gave me this weird look.”

  “I did not.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  Denny and I were now chuckling and arguing like we’d known each other for years. “So, how did you figure out my name and phone number?” he asked.

  I smiled.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  I looked at him, hoping my gray eye shadow would detract from the redness now taking over my cheeks. “Actually, I printed out your picture and carried it around with me, and I asked everyone I came in contact with if they knew you.” Then I pulled out the picture from my little hand bag and handed it to my date.

  Denny took it and then burst out laughing.

  “So like how many people saw this picture?” he asked.

  “Forty or fifty?”

  “Wow,” he smiled. Then, he looked right into my eyes. “I’m so flattered by what you did. I think it’s amazingly cool and so gutsy. Very impressive.”

  A grin instantly burst onto my face. “Thanks.”

  “So, who recognized me? Who told you my name?”

  “It was Matt Millstein.”

  “Oh yeah…great guy. He’s a client of mine. He buys a lot of real estate.”

  “And a lot of pot.”

  Denny laughed. “He does like to smoke.”

  “I met Matt at Sandy’s Ski Shop and went out to dinner with him,” I said, “He’s a really nice person. I’m just not into smoking.”

  “I understand.”

  We ended up getting a table a little while later and then proceeded to have a three hour dinner at the posh French Asian fusion restaurant. I did all the ordering, as Denny confessed he had “no clue what half this stuff was” and that he had only chosen this place to impress me.

  Denny was so open and honest. I loved the way he found humor in the fact that he had a hard childhood and came from a hard-working blue-collar family. “They’re all really good people,” he joked about his siblings, “but each of them is a pain in the ass in his or her own special way.”

  As I sat there force-feeding Denny a piece of my seared Ahi Tuna with baby bok choy (after he confessed he had never eaten raw fish before), I had to admit I was having a great time, even though we came from such different worlds. Denny was so rough around the edges, but not in a bad way. He was thick-skinned and tough, and it didn’t surprise me when he told me he had been a professional boxer in his younger days. It seemed like Denny had led sort of a tough life, his family of ten always struggling for money and doing what they could to get by and survive, hence the boxing career.

  Yet, there was a refined part of Denny too. He had put himself through college and had settled into a successful mortgage business. He didn’t seem bitter about having to work so hard for everything. That was refreshing to me. Denny seemed optimistic and upbeat.<
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  It was the way he spoke of his children and ex-wife, however, that started my real interest in Dennis James Fitzpatrick, the Second. When Denny spoke about his two kids, who were eight and four, his whole face lit up and his eyes became bright and very alive. It was lovely to see a man who loved his children like he did.

  As far as his ex, he said to me at one point, “Stephanie’s not a bad person, she’s just a person with a lot of problems.” What a completely refreshing description of someone’s ex-wife! There was no bitterness in Denny, not even a trace, unless he was superb at hiding it, which I thought was highly unlikely. Denny was pure, simple in a way, his aura full of goodness and kindness. Being around Denny was soothing and I felt like I could just exhale and say, “Ahh…”

  As we finished our meal with white chocolate cheesecake and coffee, Denny began telling me about how he would bribe his little girl with candy to get her to sing to him. “Wait! I actually recorded it!” he exclaimed, taking out his cell phone and showing me a thirty second video of his four year-old singing Oh, Suzanna. Denny’s voice could be heard in the background, helping his daughter with some of the words.

  “You seem like a really great dad,” I said, my heart almost hurting from how sweet he was.

  “I try,” he said.

  It was a no-brainer that Denny ended up on my couch after the date. We must have kissed for four hours straight. Mr. Sullivan crept his way into my mind as he did every time I was in the presence of another man, but tonight I found myself dismissing him pretty quickly. I kept my distance from Luke tonight, and let myself enjoy a guy who I was actually spending time with, versus my running partner who compared our relationship to a Tootsie Pop. Why part of me felt like I was cheating on him, I’ll never know. I had a suspicion, though, that if Luke knew I was presently lip locked with Denny, he’d be really jealous.