― Simon Van Booy
Tis the Season to be Jolly?
I'm not usually one to feel paranoid but Greer caused my antennae to go up. Was the 'accidental' meeting at the pub the other night a set up?
And for that matter, why did she suddenly show up at my place today? She must have gone to some pains to find out where I lived.
What's her angle anyway?
I'm not exactly the handsomest man alive.
She’s gone silent, apparently trying to decide what to say and now, as if she’s read read my mind, she addresses the elephant in the room.
"You're probably suspicious of my motives," she begins, "but fact is, I was intrigued by you. I like honest, straight-forward people...and you're modest. I find that especially attractive in a man."
I smile benignly, not believing a word she’s saying.
"So, you're telling me you used your investigative skills to seek me out today?"
Her eyes brightened. "That's exactly right. When something tweaks me, I can't let it go. But you're probably not like that and can't identify in the least, but that's what I'm like."
"Oh, I wouldn't say I can't identify with what you're saying, but I call those urges obsessions—I doubt anyone would be obsessed with me. I'm not exactly an international man of mystery."
She comes over and touches my arm compassionately.
"Just because you're not James Bond, Cole, doesn't mean you're not interesting. I told you I was intrigued, but if you choose not to believe it, that's up to you.”
Her sudden display of frankness disarms me.
"Yeah, maybe I'm just sensitive now because I've been burned—sort of like a cat that touches a hot stove and then steers clear of any stove ever after."
"So, who was the girl who torched you and made you wary of other women?"
I shake my head,"Not a girl, my best fiend and partner, who robbed me blind so I lost my company."
Her face falls and she seems genuinely touched.
"Oh, Cole, I'm so sorry. That must be devastating, especially now just before Christmas."
"It's devastating anytime really, but I'm just trying to get past it and maybe start over again."
"That takes real guts,” she whispers.
"Maybe, but I figure I made millions once, I should be able to do it again."
All of a sudden something dawns on her. ”Wait a minute—did you own Stevens Property Holdings?"
“Yeah, that's me, embarrassing as it is to admit."
“I read about what happened. That kind of betrayal takes a long time to get over. Now I get why you're wary."
"Yep, you're good at teasing things out. You got me to talk so now you know the story of my pathetic life."
She wavers a moment, then seems to come to a decision. "I've got an idea—let me take you out to dinner."
'Um, I'm not really comfortable with that."
"Why not? Are you old-fashioned, or sexist?"
"Definitely, not sexist," I smile.
"Good, then let's get out of here and don't worry—it’s not Sassafraz. I was thinking more like Harvey's.
"Love Harvey's," I grin.
She loops her arm around mine and marches me to the closet door.
"Put on your coat and let's go," she giggles, "you can pay me back when you make your next million."
"Don't worry, I will," I assure her.
"Didn't doubt it for a moment," she smiles, staring into my eyes.
Those eyes of hers—I could get lost in them and never find my way out...
Or even want to, for that matter.