But I’m on my first day of a freelance job here, my sister is nowhere to be seen, and I’m sitting in a panic room with a guy I just met, who talks about being some sort of commando karate chop person who takes bad dudes out and relieves them of their weapons and locks them up in this prison. I don’t know how that’s supposed to calm my nerves. It’s kind of doing the opposite, if you want me to be honest.”
“I always want you to be honest,” he says, losing his smile.
The weight of a double meaning is there, but I don’t really know where it’s coming from or what it’s all about, so I don’t play along. I’m tired of looking like a dingbat in front of this guy.
My gaze roams the room again. I’m afraid to continue with the conversation, knowing that my natural curiosity has already gotten away from me once. The way my heart is racing, I’m bound to start asking questions even more personal than the ones I already have; it’s kind of a defense mechanism I have: stun them with disbelief and distract them from my flustered demeanor with a barrage of socially unacceptable interrogations. Not very elegant, but it usually works. Not so much with Dev, though . . .
He surprises me by speaking as if he hadn’t hesitated before. “My son’s name is Jacob. His mother hasn’t been around since the day he was born. She pretty much took off.” He looks down at his hands. “Yeah, so that’s pretty much it. My life in a nutshell. Not much more to say.” He picks at his fingernails, frowning.
My mind is racing with questions now. Who cares about society’s rules? I want to know what makes this guy tick! I smile to put him at ease. “If you thought that sharing that little bit of information was going to stop me from asking more questions, you obviously don’t know me or any woman very well.”
He gives me a slight nod. “I would say you are correct in that assessment. I’m terrible at reading women. I always get it wrong.”
“Did you have any sisters growing up? Or girl cousins?”
“The only girl that I had around me when I was growing up was Toni, and she didn’t come into the picture until I was well into my teens. Around sixteen or so.”
“Who’s Toni? Is that your ex-wife? Girlfriend? Is that Jacob’s mom?”
“No. Toni works here with me, and we grew up in the same neighborhood together. She’s lived in New Orleans all her life. Toni and her brother Thibault were kind of like another family to me. Along with Ozzie and Lucky, too.”
I lean in a little. “I think I heard May say a few things about her. She’s, like, really badass and gorgeous and somebody you don’t want to mess around with, right?”
Dev laughs and nods, his body relaxing a little deeper into his seat. “Yeah, that’s her. There’s nobody tougher.”
My vision fades into a haze as I stare off into the distance. I’m picturing myself as a little Rambo chick, kicking ass and taking names, earning the respect I hear in Dev’s voice.
“What are you thinking right now?” Dev asks.
I answer without hesitation. “I’m thinking how awesome it would be to be described that way by a guy like you.” My ears go a little pink when I realize I’ve revealed a bit too much of my hand.
“A guy like me? What do you mean by that?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I don’t know . . . a guy like you. A guy who . . .”—I gesture in his general direction—“. . . likes to train and get all sweaty all over the place.” The perspiration has stopped pouring down his body, but his clothing is still wet and sticking to him.
He looks down at himself. “Oh. I gotcha.”
My eyes follow his lead and land on his crotch. I quickly look away, but not before he catches me ogling him. I start waving my hand in front of my face. They seriously need a fan in here. Is this early-onset menopause?
Silence ensues. Both of us are trying not to look directly at each other, but it’s like our eyes are refusing to obey. It’s silly; I’m totally blushing. It reminds me of high school.
“You know, you could become like Toni if you wanted to.”
I frown at that. “What?”
“I said, you could look like Toni if you wanted to.