Deciding not to press my luck, I turn and slowly make my way to the slider, careful not to make any noise as I open it before slipping outside and closing it. I return to my car and wait.
Fifteen minutes later, a beat-up old pickup truck pulls out of the parking lot with a man behind the wheel. I snap a picture of the license plate and text it to Mr. Smith, telling him I want to know everything there is to know about the man who owns the truck.
I have an idea, but I want to know for sure what the fuck is going on.
I purposely arrive ten minutes late to the café that night. Not so late that Hattie will have given up on my arriving, but late enough that she’ll worry whether I’m going to show up at all. I want her to feel the disappointment of thinking I won’t be there, then the relief when I walk through the door.
It’s an old trick I learned from my younger days when I used to fuck rich married women for the financial benefits.
When I step through the café doors, Hattie is quick to spot me, raising a hand in greeting. Even from the distance between us, I can see the way her shoulders move away from her ears, how her forehead relaxes now that I’ve arrived.
I quicken my pace across the café to reach her. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I got caught up with something for work and I was going to text you to let you know I’d be late, but I realized that we haven’t exchanged numbers.”
“That’s okay, I understand.”
She doesn’t immediately offer me her number, which irks me, but I don’t let it get to me. Maybe I have more work to do here than I thought.
“Just give me a minute and let me grab a drink. You all set?” I glance at the steaming cup of hot chocolate sitting on the table beside her.
“Yes, sorry, I was going to get you something, but then I realized I don’t know how you take your coffee.” Her blush says she’s embarrassed, as if she feels bad she didn’t memorize my order as I did hers. But she’s not a con artist. I am.
“That’s okay, Hattie. I won’t hold it against you.” I wink and head over to the counter.
I return to the lounge area a few minutes later. Instead of taking my usual seat across from her, this time I sit in the chair to her left.
“My apologies again for being late.” I set my coffee on the table beside her hot chocolate.
Hattie waves away my concern. “It’s really not a big deal.” She gives a nervous chuckle. “Though I was starting to wonder whether you were coming.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She shrugs and glances at her lap.
“Anything exciting happening in your life?” I ask.
That question draws her gaze back to mine, and she gives me what I interpret as a “you know better than that” look.
I raise my hands. “It’s possible.”
“Just not probable.” She rolls her eyes playfully.
“We can’t all lead a life full of mystery and intrigue like me. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
She laughs. “You are a little mysterious.”
“Is that so?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Can I ask you something I’ve been wondering about?” She licks her lips, as if she wants to ask this question but is scared at the same time.
I pick up the mug and bring it to my lips. “You can ask me anything.”The real question is whether I’ll tell you the truth.
She presses her lips together before she voices what’s on her mind. “How old are you?”
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to ask a man his age?” I wink even though the subtle mention of Carla makes me want to hurl this coffee cup across the café.
“Sorry, it’s rude of me to ask.”
I chuckle. “Not at all. I’m thirty-seven.”
