by Messe, Ellie
“If you’re in a sweater I might be forced to burn everything you own.”
Amy pushes the door wider, allowing Logan to step in. He looks every bit the millionaire in his dress slacks, white shirt, and blazer thing; he looks ridiculously hot. I’m his friend; I’m allowed to think that.
“Your mission in life to surprise me is on the fast track, Miss Anderson. I wholeheartedly believed you, oh, woman of no lies.” He gives me a pointed look.
“I didn’t lie. I wanted to wear a skirt and Amy tried to get me in a dress. I never specified who won the argument. I also used the term, ‘what if.’” I smile.
“You look lovely; I’m glad the dress won. Am I to thank you for the total package?” He turns to Amy who actually blushes.
“She picked the shoes.”
He glances at my feet before thanking her for her ‘hard work.’ I roll my eyes in an exaggerated fashion, disappointed when it goes unseen.
“After you.” He waves to the door.
Amy reaches forward with my coat, but Logan takes it from her, holding it out for me to slip my arms into.
“How chivalrous.”
“God, could you guys be any cuter?” Amy swoons.
“Oh, slow your libido, it’s not a date.”
“Sure, sure.” She waves me away, “Have her home by midnight and not a minute later.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise to be on my best behavior.”
"I wish you wouldn't."
My incredulous “Ha!” echoes down the stairwell as I step outside.
Logan and I descend in comfortable silence.
“Stop it,” I tell him, when he holds the main door open for me, “You’ll give a girl expectations doing things like that.” He rolls his eyes as I pass, “They’re going to roll right out of your head if you keep doing that.”
He chuckles, stepping up to my side to open the car door, “You’re a bad influence on me.”
“Pssht! I’m great if anything I’m improving you.”
Stepping into the car, I scoot over to the far window, giving Logan room to slide in beside me.
“I could have walked around.”
“Now you don’t have to. Hi, Caleb. How was your day?”
“Miss Devina,” He nods in the mirror, “It was exceptional, how was yours?”
I giggle at his reply, “It was fine. What about you Logan? How was your day?”
“Busy.” He smiles, “Meet your chapter quota?”
“No, but I can make them up tomorrow. Where are we going?”
“A restaurant.”
“Shocking.”
Logan smirks, giving me a sideways glance.
“Hey, Caleb, where are we going?”
His response is to tap his nose.
“Traitor.” I groan, sitting back in the seat.
I have to fight the urge to slouch; no way am I messing up tonight. I even googled fancy restaurant etiquette to ensure I pass Logan’s test. If I never hear the term, 'shoulders back,' again, it’ll be too soon.
“You’re fidgeting,” Logan notes.
“Am not, how?”
He nods to my tapping finger on the armrest.
“I’m tapping to the beat of the music, listen.”
My finger continues to beat to the soft hum of music pouring from the front seat.
“I stand corrected.”
Silencing my finger, I wait out the drive in silence.
We pull up outside what looks like a posh hotel. “Here?”
Logan nods as Caleb exits his place to open my door.
I wait patiently, standing to my full height as Logan exits the car, buttoning his jacket; he looks like he’s in a cologne commercial.
“Is this where you offer me your arm?” I tease, falling into step with him, he smirks, his hand falling to my lower back to guide me inside. I tense at the contact; Logan and I don’t touch.
He escorts me to an elevator where an attendant waits.
I try to hide my giddiness when the old man enters behind us and selects a floor marked, R. It takes every ounce of self-control not to speak to him. I’m beyond curious about this man dressed in black dress pants and a red jacket similar in style to Logan’s. I also want to ask if they’re hiring because this seems like job goals.
All too quickly the doors open, the sounds of clinking china finds my ears right as the vast floor is uncovered by the opening doors. Dim bulbs light the restaurant, drawing the New York skyline into focus outside the floor to the ceiling windows.
Logan murmurs something to the balding butler-host guy behind the podium while I remind myself to stand up straight which is proving to be difficult when a woman dripping in flashy jewelry walks past me; I feel underdressed and out of place.
Logan’s hand gently pushes against my lower back, ushering me to follow the balding man. I'm all too aware of his fingers our entire journey to a table against the window.
Calling all of my googled knowledge forward, I wait for Logan to pull out my chair. He takes it one step further when his fingers clasp the collar of my jacket, slowly peeling it away. The butler guy takes it from him, freeing his hands to pull out my seat, “Thank you.”
He smirks, moving to his seat.
My confidence starts to waver when I note we have three empty glasses instead of two, every diagram I looked at, specifically had two; water and a wine glass.
Logan lays his napkin across his lap, and I follow suit, “Logan.” I say gently, trying to keep my volume low like the other patrons. His eyes lift to mine, “Why are there three glasses? I thought there was only supposed to be two.”
He smiles a genuine smile, “Two of them are wine glasses. Depending on what wine is served, they’ll remove one of them.”
“Oh.” I gently rest my hands in my lap, “Did I get docked points because of that?”
His smile widens, “No.”
The waiter comes over, handing Logan a leather book.
He proceeds to say something I can’t pronounce and sends the man away.
“This view is incredible,” I note, attempting to strike up polite conversation.
“I agree.”
“Have you been here before?”
The corner of his mouth raises slightly, “Once or twice.”
The waiter returns pouring a soft yellow liquid into his glass. After Logan takes a sip, he nods to the waiter who fills both of our drinks, leaving the uncorked bottle in a flashy chrome container next to the table. Producing two pieces of rectangular cardstock, he hands them to Logan and I. This is probably the smallest, yet most complicated menu I’ve ever seen.
“Is this English?” I ask in all honesty.
Logan chuckles. The title of each plate isn't in English, but the short description below it claims to be. I catch keywords like duck and venison, but everything else is out of a Dr. Seuss classic.
“Would it be rude to ask you to order for me?”
He smiles again, “If you want, I could also tell you what each dish is as well.”
“I trust you.”
I’m thankful when he reaches for my menu; I didn’t read anything about where to put it. The waiter returns allowing Logan to order in what sounds like French.
“Do you speak French?” I ask when the waiter retreats.
“I do. My mother insisted on a second language when my sister and I were young.”
“That’s neat, my dad’s French.”
“Is that right? Did he teach you?”
“No, I’ve never met him, I’m the product of a summer romance.” I smile, “She married someone when I was young, and he took over the role though.”
“Do you get along with your parents?”
I nod, making sure to look into my glass when I sip my wine. “They live in Boston. Amy and I go back once a year to see our families.”
“Any siblings?”
“Nope. I’m an only child, though with Amy and I being friends since we were in kindergarten, my parents look at her as a second child. Yo
u mentioned a sister earlier, is she older or younger?”
“Older. She’s an event coordinator here in New York.”
“Well, that sounds like a fun job.”
“She enjoys it.”
I’m surprised when the waiter returns, placing our entrees in their designated spot. Logan cut’s into the thick chunk of meat in the center of his plate, “Wonderful, thank you.”
“That was fast,” I comment, following Logan’s movements.
“Perks of being rich.” He smiles.
Rolling my eyes, I dig in.
At the end of the night, I can't wipe the smile off my face as we head back to my apartment. Not only did I pass his test with flying colors, I actually had a wonderful time. After our meal, we were served this crazy desert hidden under a chocolate shell, the waiter poured this hot red goo over it, and it broke away to reveal a cheesecake. It was odd but delicious; if I weren’t fighting to pass his test, I would have licked the plate clean.
“Did you enjoy your evening?” Logan asks on the ride home.
“I did.” The absence of light makes his eyes appear almost black, every so often we pass by a light that gives me just a glimpse of color. “Thank you for choosing to test me.”
“It was my pleasure.” He smiles.
All too soon the car pulls up outside Amy’s apartment. Logan exits first, holding the car door open as I slide out, careful not to let my dress ride up.
“Until tomorrow?” I ask when he doesn’t move from the sidewalk.
His head angles toward the entrance, and I follow, “A gentleman sees her to her door.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I chuckle. “Here’s fine. Tomorrow?”
He nods once, allowing me to enter the building, “Have a good night, Devina.”
“Night.” I smile shyly, turning for the stairs.
As I make my way up to Amy’s, I laugh at myself. This was hands down, the best not date, date I’ve ever had.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Unfortunately, Logan was called away for an impromptu business trip to China. So I’ve spent the last two weeks cooped up inside working on manuscripts. Business is booming for me at the moment, so I’m not complaining. If you had told me two months ago that I would have a steady income I would have laughed, yet here I am, raking in the money. Well, maybe not raking but a win’s a win.
Needing a change of scenery, I wandered down to a coffee shop to work on the last chapter of the current manuscript I’m editing.
Grabbing my buzzing phone off the counter, I smile at the notification bar. Unlocking my phone, I open my messages.
LOGAN: [Attachment]
A second text vibrates in my hand while the image downloads.
LOGAN: Look, Bev Goldberg's in a coffee shop.
The photo blinks to life, showing me sitting cross-legged in the booth, with the oversized cup tipped against my lips.
My head swivels to the window, searching for a certain stalker.
“Hey, Duck.” I yelp, spinning in his direction causing him to laugh. "Miss me?"
“Hey!” I smile, watching him sit in the seat across from me. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to your apartment, but you weren’t home. Amy sent me here.”
“I needed to get out of the house,” I admit, closing my laptop to see him better. “How was your trip?”
“Long.” He chuckles, “Overall, successful though.”
“Well, that’s good. Do you want me to flag down the waiter?”
He shakes his head, “No, that’s alright. What are your plans for the day?”
“I don’t have any.”
He offers a curt nod, “Good. Class is back in session. Once you’re finished, we’ll run your items home.”
I smile, slamming the contents of my coffee down, “Done.”
Throwing a few bills on the table, I collect my jacket as Logan takes the laptop from me.
“What’s the plan?”
“You’ve been promoted to the letter A; appearance. Want to guess where we’re starting?”
“My sweaters,” I grumble, standing up.
“Yes, ma’am.” He inhales like he’s about to speak again but stops short.
Looking up at him, I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t, he just stares.
“What?” I ask, wiping my mouth on my sleeve, “Do I have something on my face?”
“No, you look fine." Whatever caused his momentary stall obviously passes when a mask clouds his features, "Let’s go, Duck.”
I hate that nickname. He holds the door for me as we step outside.
“I don’t have to like throw my stuff away or anything, do I?”
He pulls back slightly, “Of course not. But with any luck, you’ll do that on your own admission.”
“Doubtful.”
He chuckles, stopping at the curb.
“I’m this way.” I point out when he doesn’t walk with me.
With a simple nod of his head, I see Caleb a few cars back.
“You know we could walk right?”
“Not where we’re going.”
“I thought we were taking my stuff back?”
“I’ll have Caleb take it to your apartment.”
“Are you driving me home when we’re done?” He gives me an exasperated nod, “Then we can leave it in the car. Amy has to work today, so nobody's gonna be home anyway.”
Once the car gets close enough, Logan ushers me into the street, where we both jump in quickly to avoid being run over by impatient drivers.
“Hi, Caleb.”
He nods in the mirror, too occupied with his attempts not to run anyone over.
“So is this going to be like an episode of What Not to Wear?” I ask Logan.
“Pretty much.”
“Cool. I haven’t been shopping in forever.”
“Since the eighties at least.”
“I wasn’t even born in the eighties.”
“I know, Duck.”
Jeez. I've been in his presence for all of fifteen minutes, and he's already annoyed with me.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” He starts to smile and I know he’s about to insult me, “Nevermind, I already know; ugly duckling. How do you manage to keep friends when you’re always insulting them?”
“I don’t insult my friends; I insult you.”
I scoff, “You’re such an asshole.”
“You mispronounced honest.”
“I haven’t seen you in two weeks the least you could do is be nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you; you just don’t see it.”
“When?” I demand.
“Well, I think this boot camp to win Joel back is pretty generous.”
“Cole and I’m not some charity case. You offered, remember?”
“You’re my pro bono case.” He nudges my shoulder with his, wearing a teasing smile.
Rolling my eyes, I nudge him back.
“So where are we going?” I’ve got some spending money burning a hole in my pocket making me excited for this impromptu shopping trip.
“A few places. The first is right up here.”
Inside I deflate a little; this is Upper Manhattan aka the expensive, designer brand area.
“I was hoping for an Old Navy or Macy’s.”
He laughs hard and loud enough to grind on my nerves. “Not a chance. You think I’d take you to sweater heaven?”
“They sell other things.” I pout, looking out the window.
We stop in front of one of those boutiques with a revolving door looking every bit like 1960's New York.
“Come on, Duck, let’s try and make you pretty.”
I think I might hate him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
By ‘a few places’ he meant seven. I’ve been carted around for the last three hours, dressed and undressed by prissy old ladies just to have Logan veto everything I’d been stuffed into. Not that I’m complaining, at one point I was wearing a jacket covered in pe
acock feathers, but something's got to give eventually.
This new attendant has her hands full; running around like a chicken with head cut off, trying to shop for three different customers. I’m not bothered by her delay; I get to sit in a comfortable chaise lounge, sipping champagne like a rich person rather than be told I don't look good in anything I try on.
“If you wanted results, you should have just taken me to Perkins and had Amy dress me.”
“You’d con your way into getting your way, and we both know it.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Isn’t this what girls like? Being waited on and dressed head to toe?”
“Amy? Absolutely. Me? Not so much. I’d rather rummage through the clearance rack and be done with it.”
“You don’t say.”
“Shut up. Oh look she’s back. Should we just go ahead and send her away because you’re going to say no to everything I put on anyway?”
I’m given a scolding look as she approaches, red-faced and out of breath, “I’m so sorry. Right, this way.”
Handing my glass to Logan, I follow her until we’re behind the privacy curtain. Moving against the wall, I give her room to straighten the trolley full of colorful clothing. “Mr. Devitt said you were looking for casual, business casual, dinner party and event.”
“I don’t know about all that other stuff, but casual works for me.”
“I was instructed pullover sweaters were completely off the table, but I did find a few cardigans I think you’ll like.”
Pulling a string of hangers from the pole, she instructs me to change. Patiently handing me each item as I go; it’s a good thing I’m not a shy girl.
Slipping my feet into a pair of ballet flats, I’m once again carted out to Logan.
Knowing the drill, I pause before turning around.
“Jeans and shoes can stay. That top makes you look flat chested.”
“I am flat chested.”
Ignoring me, he points down the hall, “Change.”
Like the little doll I am, I obey, but not before giving him an exaggerated eye roll.
Halfway through the trolley and we still haven’t made any progress.
“Oh, these aren’t the right shoes.” She says, staring at the pair of maroon pumps. “I’ll be right back, go ahead and get in the dress while I’m gone.”